Dalfin bowed again, well pleased. Then he took on himself to make us known in turn, as gravely as if in his father's court.
"This is my host, Malcolm, son of the Norse Jarl of Caithness, who has unfortunately succeeded his brave father after a gallant fight, in which I was honoured in taking part. This is Bertric the Thane, of Lyme, in England, a shipmaster of long standing. He joined us when we two escaped from Heidrek, who calls himself the Seafarer, and held us captive after burning out my host and his folk."
"Heidrek the Seafarer!" she said, with a sharp sigh, looking up in wonder at us. "When was it that he did this harm to you?"
"It was three days ago," I answered. "He fell on us at dawn, and by noon we were at sea with him as captives. That same night we escaped, thanks to the young chief, Asbiorn."
"Then he came straightway from your home and fell on mine," she said gravely. "Surely the wrath of the Asir will fall on Heidrek ere long, if, indeed, the Asir care aught what a warrior does of wrong."
"Has he burnt you out also, lady?" asked Dalfin.
"That I doubt," she answered shortly. "But it was with his help that I myself was set afloat to be burned."
Then her strength seemed to give way at last as the fullness of her trouble came to her, and she turned from us and sank down sideways on the bed where she sat, and wept silently. It was hard for us to stand and see this; but we were helpless, not at all knowing what we could do. I suppose that we could have done nothing, in truth; but it seemed as if we ought to have been of some help in word, at least.
At last she ceased, and sat up again, trying to smile.
"Yesterday, I had thought myself far from such foolishness as this," she said. "Today, I know that this mail and helm of mine and the sword that lies yonder in the chamber where you found me are not fitting for me. They are an idle boast and empty. I am only a weak woman--and alone."