"Yes, that is a Christian's kind of courage."
"Well, perhaps some day they will learn to fight, and then --"
"Their songs tell them of an Alfred who defeated our best warriors."
"That was long ago; if you go back far enough these English were sea kings before they were spoiled by becoming Christians."
"Hush; I think I hear steps."
"Who comes?" cried one of the guards, challenging a newcomer.
"I, Anlaf, your chief."
And the father of Alfgar appeared on the scene.
Of average height, Anlaf possessed vast muscular powers; his sinews stood out like tight cords, and his frame, although robust, was yet such that there seemed no useless flesh about him. His hair was a deep grizzled red, as also his beard, and his eyes were of the same tinge, his nose somewhat aquiline, and his whole features, weatherworn as they were, were those of one born to command, while they lacked the sheer brutality of expression so conspicuous in some of his subordinates.
Ho addressed a few words to the guards, and they led him to Alfgar.