One of Eric’s men leaned over to Arnkel and spoke to him.  Then he shook his head and scowled at him, and stood up and raised his hand.

“Here,” he said, when a silence fell, “I am a stranger, and it seems to me that there is matter for a fight, unless somewhat is set straight.  What is this tale brought up against your lord?  I have heard how Thorwald was set to sea in his ship.”

Then old Gorm answered in a voice which shook with wrath:  “And with him, bound in the funeral chamber, with burning peat piled round it, Arnkel set the Lady Gerda to burn at sea, even as you see her.  But for chance she had never stood in Arnkel’s way more.  She is Thorwald’s heiress.”

In the silence which followed Gerda spoke again.  Men were doubting yet, and Arnkel’s men had no mind to begin a fight which would be fell enough.

“You have said that I am a captive, Arnkel,” she said calmly.

“Listen, friends, and say if so I am.”

She half turned to me, and took my hand before them all, smiling.

“This is my promised husband,” she said proudly, “Jarl Malcolm, who saved me.  If I am captive, it is willingly.

“Now, Arnkel, I will let bygones be bygones.  It shall be as it was before the day when the ship was set adrift.  Only you shall go your way to the king, to be judged by him.”

“Fair speech, Arnkel,” said Eric’s courtier.  “Better listen to it.  You have to deal with yon Scots jarl—­and I ken the Scotsmen.”

He sat down, watching the throng.  He would take no hand in the matter, wherein he was wise.  But those words of his came to Arnkel as a taunt, and his look at me was terrible.

“Ho, men,” he shouted, “will you own an outland lord?”

“Aye, we will,” said Gorm the Steward sturdily.  “Sooner than listen to a coward and would-be murderer of women.”

That ended the matter.  The courtmen yelled, and one or two who tried to get to Arnkel’s side were seized and hurled to the ground by the men who cheered for Gerda, and I knew that the day was won.  But I watched Arnkel, for there was somewhat of madness in his look.  His hand stole down to the long dirk in his belt, and then clutched it.

Like a flash the keen blade fled across the hall, straight at Gerda as she stood fearless before him, and I was only just in time.  I stood on her right, and my left arm caught it.  The blade went through the muscles of the forearm, and stayed there, but that was of no account.  Gerda’s light mail would hardly have stopped it.

She gave a little cry, and I set my arm behind me, smiling.  But the men saw and roared, and there was not one on the side of the man who would do so evil a deed.  They made a rush for the dais, overturning the tables, and hustling aside Eric’s men, who were in their way, else there would have been an end of Arnkel.

Maybe in the long run it had been as well for him, but in the scuffle he opened the door behind him and rushed out.  I heard a shout from outside, and then a trampling, and thereafter a silence.