"Fain would I try to please my host," he said, looking a little wistfully at my father; "but a man swept far from home against his will is no singer."
Then Eadmund pitied him, as did we all, and rose up.
"Feasting is over, thanes," he said. "Let us sit awhile in the other chamber and hear Lodbrok's story."
For he would ever leave the hall as at this time, so that the housecarles and lesser guests might have greater freedom of talk when we were gone.
So we rose up, and as we did so I saw Beorn, the falconer, look sourly at Lodbrok; and it misliked me that he should harbour any ill will even yet against the Dane who had done him no wrong.
Round the fire we sat; some ten of us in all, for Bishop Humbert and his folk went to their lodgings in the town, and there Lodbrok told the king of his voyage.
And when he named his sons, Eadmund looked grave, and said:
"I have heard of those two chiefs, Ingvar and Hubba. Did they not make a raid into Northumbria two years ago? Maybe they are yet there with the host."
"Aye," answered Lodbrok, seeming to wonder at the grave face of our king; "they went to Northumbria with the host that is yet there. They fought well and bravely at the place men call Streoneshalch {[v]}, gaining much booty. And it was by Ingvar's plan that the place was taken, and that was well done. But they left the host with their men after that, saying that there were over many leaders already."
Now we all knew the cruel story of the burning of that place; but Northumbria was a far-off kingdom, and with it we had naught to do. So, except perhaps the king, the rest of us were as little moved as if he had spoken of the taking of some Frankish town; for if my father thought more of it, being in the king's counsels, he passed it over.