Now, I cannot tell all that was in her mind, but so she would have it; and as it was true enough that if we were wrecked we were more likely to save somewhat if it was on us, we let her have her way.  So in the end she chose out the heavy golden bracelets which Bertric and I should wear, and then asked Dalfin, laughing, what was the token of the rank of a prince in his land.  It was the torque which Heidrek’s men had taken from him, and I told her so.

Whereon she took from the casket a wonderful, twisted torque, the like of which I had never seen, for it was not of Norse work, and gave it to him.  He took it and looked at it curiously, and his face lighted up.  It had some strange writings on it, and he read them.  Then he turned to Gerda, and it was plain that somewhat had pleased him mightily.

“Queen,” he said, “this is a greater gift to me than you ken.  It is strange that this torque should come to me here, for there is a song of it which I have known since I was able to learn aught.  It is the song of its losing.”

“Thorwald, my grandfather, won it on the high seas from Danish Vikings,” she answered eagerly.  “What is the story?”

“It is the royal torque of our house,” he said.  “It was lost when my kinsman, Dubhtach of the Spearshafts, fell at Howth.  In the song are the names of Danish princes who fell ere it was won from us, and they are not a few.  Now your folk have avenged the loss, and the luck of the O’Neills has come back.  And, faith, it was time it did, for mighty little luck have we had since it went from us.”

Then he bent his knee in princely fashion, and kissed the hand of the giver, and so set the torque on his neck.  It bent easily, and fastened with hooked ends.  Plain enough it was that he felt that he had recovered a treasure.

“See,” said Bertric, “here is wind coming.”

There were thunder clouds working up from the north and east, and a haze was gathering overhead.  Soon, in the stillness, the thunder rumbled across the sea, and the heavy drops of the first rain fell, bringing with them cold draughts of wind, which filled the sail for a moment, uselessly, and were gone.

Then across the northern sea grew and spread a line of white which swept down on us swiftly, and with a roar the squall, which came before the wall of rain, was on us.  Something lifted forward and fled downwind like a broken-winged red and white bird.  Gerda’s awning had gone; and Dalfin shouted.  But we could not heed that.  We were wrestling with the helm, for the wind was heavy and unsteady, and the thunder rolled round us and above us, while the lightning shot in jagged streaks from cloud to sea incessantly.  The rain came in torrents, whitening the sea; but Gerda stood with her arm round the high sternpost, with her yellow hair flying and the water streaming from her, seeming to enjoy the turmoil.