“How is that?”
“Griffin would have flown on me as he did on you, certainly; and it is in my mind that you foresaw it, which I did not. I could not have stayed him.”
“Well I did,” answered my brother; “else had either I or you a hole in us like the one that is well covered now. But I feared what came to pass.”
Ragnar held out his hand, and Havelok took it, and so they parted without more words; but I knew that these two were friends from that time forward, whatever happened.
There were some sports of some sort on hand, when we came to see what all the noise was; and Berthun, seeing us, called Havelok to him.
“I have been looking for you,” he said, with that curious tone of his that always seemed to be asking pardon for his boldness in speaking to my brother; “for here are games at which they need some one to show the way.”
“This is a sport that I have not seen before,” answered Havelok, looking over the heads of the crowd. “I should make a poor hand at it.”
They had been tossing a great fir pole, which was now laid on one side, with its top split from its falls, and they, thanes and freemen in turn, were putting a great stone, so heavy that a matter of a few inches beyond the longest cast yet made would be something to be proud of. Good sport enough it was to see the brawny housecarls heave it from the ground and swing it. But no one could lift it above his knee, so that one may suppose that it flew no great distance at a cast.
“Nay, but the thanes are trying,” Berthun said. “It is open to all to do what they can. One of your porters is best man so far.”
“Well, I will not try to outdo him.”