Half a dozen men came toward us at this time, leaving the rest to sort the piles of plunder they had brought from the village. I was glad, in a sort of dull way, that none of it came from the hall, for at least no one of them might boast that he wore my father's weapons and war gear. The foremost of these men were a gray-haired old chief and a young man of about my own age, who was plainly his son; and I thought it certain that these two were the leaders of the foe. They were well armed at all points, and richly clad enough, and I could but think them of gentle birth. The men who followed them were hard-featured warriors, whose dress and weapons were strange to me.
We sat still and stared back at them, as they stood before us, wondering little and caring less, so far as I was concerned, for what they thought or would say. The old chief ran his eye down our wretched line, stroking his long beard as if noting our points, while the young man seemed to have a sort of pity for us written on his face.
"Well," said the old chief at last, "you have made a good fight, if foolish. You shall have your chance. Which of you will join me?"
"Tell us who you are first," said Dalfin; "that is only fair."
"I am Heidrek the Seafarer, and this is Asbiorn, my son. Mayhap you have heard of us before."
I had done so. One of the men in our group had fled to us from Banff a year ago, after just such a raid as this. I heard him groan as the name was spoken.
Heidrek heard also, and laughed shortly.
"It seems that I am known," he said. "Well, make your choice. The other choice is death, of course. I can leave no one to say that I am collecting goods from this shore."
"Kill me, then," said Dalfin, while I made no answer.
Two of our men cried that they would join him, and their bonds were cut by Heidrek's followers. One of them set himself by my side and spoke to me at once.