The smoke thinned quickly from the chamber; for it had only soaked into it from the peat against its roughly made walls, over which the fagots had been piled too heavily and closely for their purpose.  Then we saw that all the deck round the bier was full of caskets and bales, and that on the far wall hung weapons—­swords and axes, spears, and bows and arrows, and with them mail shirts and helms and shields, such as the chief himself might wear.  And by the side of the chief, packed carefully in a rushen basket, were the bowls, one metal, and the rest of black earthenware, which held the food for the grave, according to our custom.  There was a tall jar of wine also, covered with its little silver drinking cup.

Now we stood for a little while silent, and then Dalfin spoke.

“What is that yonder?” he asked under his breath, and pointing to the far end of the chamber.  “As it were a heap of mail and linen.”

I could not see what he meant, for I stood on one side, but Bertric stepped a pace toward him, and looked more closely past the bier, which almost hid whatever the pile might be.  It seemed the only thing set carelessly, for all else was in perfect order.  Then he started somewhat, and spoke hurriedly.

“As I live,” he cried, but so low that the cry was all but stifled, “it is a girl!  Is she also dead or in a swoon?”

He stooped, after a moment’s doubt, and went straight into the place.  It was so low at the sides of the bier which he must pass, that he was almost double until he reached the foot, and stood up under the ridge.  Then he bent, and lifting his burden brought it out into the open air, carrying it toward the after deck away from the penthouse.

Then we saw that it was indeed a girl, tall and pale, with long tresses of yellow-golden hair plaited and bound with some strange gold-woven blue band, dressed in white, with a beautiful light coat of mail over the kirtle.

“She is alive,” said Bertric, setting her down very gently.  “Either the smoke in that close chamber—­or fear—­has overcome her.  One of you get water from the cask forward.”

I went hastily; but I had to search for somewhat in which to bring it, and was a few minutes before I found where the ship’s buckets hung under the gunwale right forward.  But meanwhile, Dalfin, with no fears in him, had gone gently to the penthouse and brought thence the pitcher of wine and the silver bowl, so that when I came back those two were trying to get some of the wine between the pale lips, though without much success.  Now we bathed her face with the cool water, and presently the colour began to come back slowly, though she did not stir.

“We are rough nurses at best,” said Bertric; “but we can do better than this.  Let us get the bedstead that is forward, and set a fold or two of the awning on it for her to rest on.  Better than the hard deck when she comes to herself, and maybe not so terrifying.”