"If it is Odin," he said, "he flies before the might of yonder sign. This place is his no longer."
The others did not heed him, but I would that what he said was the very truth. I had ever heard that one who died as did Arnkel was the quarry of Odin's hunters for evermore, and the sounds scared me.
The clamour of that wild hunt died away, and we breathed more freely. Soon the wild lights burned up across the north again, and then Bertric spoke.
"Sink yonder thing in the fjord, Asbiorn. Gerda should not see it thus."
Therewith we went back to the guest hall, and there was naught to disturb the quiet of the night. Asbiorn saw to that matter straightway.
Men say now that when the northern fires light the sky, across the fjord drifts the wraith of Arnkel, and that ever the wild hunt comes up from the sea and hounds him hence. I have heard the bay of those terrible hounds more than once indeed, but I have seen naught, and round our hall is no unrest.
In the sunshine of next day Gerda would hear what had become of Arnkel, supposing that he was kept safely somewhere. I think that the hurt to me, small as it was, angered her against him more than the wrongs he had done to herself.
"He is dead," I told her. "He died at the hand of Asbiorn and the men of the place, in all justice. He may be forgotten."
She did not ask more, for the way in which he ended she would not wish to hear. Only she sighed, and said:
"Let us forget him then. I would have forgiven him. He tried to take even my life from me indeed, but instead he has given me all I could long for. He sent me to meet you, Malcolm, on the sea."