At that the viking stared at me, and one of his men said:
"When did Danes take to trading on this coast?"
"You are Saxon by all seeming," said the leader, "yet you speak like a Dane. Whence are you, and how learned you our tongue so glibly?"
"We are from Reedham in East Anglia, which is at peace with the Danish host," I said; "and I learnt the Danish speech from one who is my friend, Lodbrok the Dane, whom men call Jarl Lodbrok."
Now at that word the Danes all turned to me, and hardly one but let fall some word of wonder; and the young leader took two great steps towards me, with his face flushing and his eyes lit up with a new look.
Then he stopped, and his face changed, growing white and angry, and his teeth closed tightly as he looked at me. Then he said:
"Now if you are making a tale to save your skins, worse shall it be for you. What know you of Lodbrok?"
I held out my hand, on which the jarl's ring shone white against the sea-browned skin.
"Here is a token he gave me before I sailed, that some friend of his might know it and speak to me," I said.
The viking dropped his axe on the deck and seized my hand, gazing at the ring and the runes graven thereon.