I have said little or nothing of my folk, and I needed not to do so.  They were gone, and from henceforth I was alone.  What had been was no more for me.  Even the little Norse village in Caithness, which had been my home, was destroyed, so far as I was concerned, for the Scots would have stepped into our place, if it was worth having after the fire and sword had been there.  I could never regain it.  Only, there were some things which I owed to my father, and no man could take them from me while I lived.  Skill in arms I had from his teaching, and such seamanship as a man of two-and-twenty may have learned in short cruises; woodcraft, too, and the many other things which the son of a jarl should know.  And with these, health and strength, and a little Scots coolness, maybe; for I could see that if aught was to be won, I had only myself to look to for the winning.

So I, in the weird twilight that had fallen now with midnight, thought and tried to foresee what should be in the days to come, and could plan nothing.  Only I knew that now, for the time at least, I and these two friends who slept had the lady yonder to care for before ourselves.

I tired of the short walk to and fro presently, and I think that at last I forgot my fears of the dead king in my thoughts, for I went nearer the penthouse, and sat myself on the starboard boat on the deck.  There had risen a light curling mist from the still sea now, as the air cooled, and it wrapped the ship round with its white folds, and hid the height of the drooping sails and the dragon head forward; and presently it seemed to me that out of the mist came the wraiths of those of whom I thought, and drew near me, and I had neither fear nor joy of their coming.

My father came and sat himself beside me, and he was as I had seen him last, dressed in his mail, but with a peace on his face instead of the war light.  My brothers came, and they stood before us, not smiling, but grave and content.  The courtmen whom I had loved came, and they ranged themselves across the deck, and I watched them, and felt no wonder that they should be here.  Surely my longings had called them, and they came.  So I and they all bided still for a little while; and then the courtmen raised their weapons toward me as in salute, and drifted from the deck into the white mists over the water, and were gone.  Then those two mighty brethren of mine smiled on me, with a still smile, and so they, too, were gone, and only my father was left; and he, too, rose up, and stood before me where the brothers had been, and it seemed to me that he spoke to me.

“Now are you the last of our line, the line which goes back to Odin, my son; and on you it lies that no dishonour shall fall on that line, which has never yet been stained.  And we trust you.  So be strong, for there are deeds to be done yet in the days that lie before you.”

Then he set his hand on my shoulder, and passed to join those others, and how I do not know.  I was alone.