"He would slay any one who reminded him of it."
"Yes; the curse of Harold Bluetooth, they say, was not a comfortable thing to get."
"The father was a Christian in that case, and the son returned to the gods of his ancestors; in your case it is the opposite: the first might be permitted, the last never."
"You would not talk in that way if he were your own son."
"Should I not? listen; I had a son, a noble, gallant boy of fifteen--all fire and spirit--do you know how he died?"
"It was before we knew each other."
"Then I will tell you. We had been ravaging the Frankish coasts, and the lad got a wound in his shoulder; we carried him home, for he had fought like a wolf, and the leeches tried to cure him, but it was all in vain; they said he would never be fit to go to battle again. Poor Sigard! he could not bear that, and he said one day when I was trying to cheer him, 'No, father, I shall never be able to strike a good downright blow again, and I cannot live until I die a cow's death in my bed; I will die as my fathers have died before me when they could no longer fight.' I saw what he meant, but I did not like the thought, and I tried to change the subject, but he returned to it again and again, until at last he persuaded me to let him have his way. So we took one of our ships, stuffed it full with things that would burn easily, made a funereal pile on the deck, and laid him thereon in state, with a mantle fit for a king thrown over him. Then we bade him goodbye and a happy journey to Valhalla; he was as cheerful as if he were going to his bridal; we tried to appear as if we were too, but it tore my heart all the same. Then we applied the torch and cut the cable; the wind blew fair, the bark stood out to sea. She had not got half-a-mile from shore when the flames burst out from every crevice of the hold; we saw them surround the pile where he lay passive; he did not move so far as we could see, and after that all was hidden from our sight in flame and smoke."
The old warrior was silent, and, in spite of his stoicism, Anlaf thought a tear stood in his eye.
"So don't tell me I could not give up an only son," added Sidroc.
Anlaf made no reply, but only sighed--a sign of weakness he strove to repress the moment he betrayed it.