Said the king: “Thou hast gotten thy name of Thief from many a matter, then; but where wert thou last night, and what is thy home?”
The cowl-bearer said: “In Grief-ham I grew up; but heart drave me hither, and home have I nowhere.”
The king said: “Maybe indeed that thou hast been nourished in Grief-ham a certain while; yet also maybe that thou wert born in a place of peace. But in the wild-wood must thou have lain last night, for no goodman dwelleth anigh named Wolf; but whereas thou sayest thou hast no home, so is it, that thou belike deemest thy home nought, because of thy heart that drave thee hither.”
Then spake Ingibiorg: “Go, Thief, get thee to some other harbour, or in to the guest-hall.”
“Nay,” said the king, “I am old enow to know how to marshal guests; so do off thy cowl, new-comer, and sit down on my other hand.”
“Yea, old, and over old,” said the queen, “when thou settest staff-carles by thy side.”
“Nay, lord, it beseemeth not,” said Thief; “better it were as the queen sayeth. I have been more used to boiling salt than sitting beside lords.”
“Do thou my will,” said the king, “for I will rule this time.”
So Thief cast his cowl from him, and was clad thereunder in a dark blue kirtle; on his arm, moreover, was the goodly gold ring, and a thick silver belt was round about him, with a great purse on it, and therein silver pennies glittering; a sword was girt to his side, and he had a great fur hood on his head, for his eyes were bleared, and his face all wrinkled.
“Ah! now we fare better, say I,” quoth the king; “but do thou, queen, give him a goodly mantle, well shapen for him.”