“Give them to you,” Dalfin answered carelessly, “if you will take them out of this land.”

“I was going to ask for the ship,” Hakon said.

“She is yours already.  You drove her ashore, and the honour falls to us.  We should only make a big fire of her and dance round it.  Where is the other?”

“Your men took her round the bend below.  There will be no more trouble with Heidrek.  We have his son, Asbiorn, here with us.”

“Give him to me,” said Dalfin at once; “give him to me, King Hakon.  I owe him much for a good turn he did me and Malcolm here, and I cannot see him a captive.”

“Malcolm and Bertric have claimed him already,” said Hakon, with a smile.  “He is yonder, and has taken service with me, and I think I must keep him.”

“That is all one could want for a man,” answered Dalfin.  “Now, I have to ask if you will go ashore and meet my father.  He would also see my two comrades, and, if it may be so, Queen Gerda.”

But Thoralf would not hear of the king going ashore, nor would Earl Osric.  Gerda, too, shrank from facing the wild crowd of warriors and the sights of the field which she needs must see more or less of.  Nor did Dalfin press the matter, for he knew that any little spark might be enough to rouse the wild Irish against the Norsemen.  It was but a chance that Hakon had played the part of an ally.  So in the end Bertric and I went ashore with Dalfin and the two hermits, as an embassy, so to speak, to represent Hakon.

We had a good welcome at all events, I suppose because men had heard the tale of our voyage and wreck, and maybe of how Hakon saved the hermits at last.  Phelim had spoken thereof when he and I went ashore just now, and word passes swiftly without losing in the telling.  They took us up through the village to the camp, and there a tent was pitched, large and open in front, as the court of the king.

The enclosure swarmed with men, wilder than any I had ever seen, and picketed rows of most beautiful horses were along one side.

It was a strange court.  The nobles were dressed in black or dull saffron-coloured tunics, with great, shaggy cloaks of the natural hue of the wool they were made of, and but for the rich gold ornaments they wore on their arms and necks, there was little to choose between their attire and that of their followers.  Not one wore mail, but their swords were good, and their spears heavy and well cared for.  As for helms, they had no need of them.  Their hair was amazingly thick and long, and was massed into great shocks on their heads, and might turn a sword stroke.  Even Dalfin had twisted his up into somewhat like what it might have been before he left Ireland, lest he should be out of the fashion, and it spoilt his looks, though it would be many a long day before he had it properly matted together again.  It was strange to see men tossing these shocks aside as they turned.

One other thing I noted at once, and that was how every man, high or low, carried a long-handled axe, bright and keen.  It was the only weapon of some, and if they knew how to handle it, maybe they needed no other.