"Father," he said quickly, "I am not the avenger. It is a long tale--but the lady, who is a queen in Norway, shipwrecked with us here by a strange fate, has to do with the winning back of the torque."
"A queen!" said the hermit quickly. "Then the rule of which I spoke must needs be broken; nay, not broken, but set aside. Now, where are your men?"
"Never a man have we. There is Malcolm here, and Bertric, a Saxon thane, who is my friend also and a good Christian, and the poor young queen, and no more."
The hermit threw up his hands.
"All drowned!" he cried. "Alack, alack! May their souls rest in peace!"
"We sailed without them, father. There were none, and so they are all safe at home."
"Good luck to them--for if they had been here they were drowned, every man of them," said the hermit with much content, looking at me with some wonder when I laughed.
"They would not be the first by many a score whom we have buried here," he said in reproof. "Aye, heathen Lochlann and Christian Scot, and homely Erse yonder. It is good to see even a few who have escaped from this shore."
He bowed his head for a moment, and his lips moved. Then he turned to Dalfin as a councillor might turn to his prince, and asked what he would have the brothers do for him.
"Come and ask the lady," answered Dalfin, and so we went to the fire, where Gerda and Bertric rose up to meet us.