"How should it be other than Ingvar Lodbroksson? for we have held that Lodbrok, his father, is dead this many a long day."
"Let me go to the jarl," I said, rising up. "I would speak with him," for I would, if possible, tell him the truth, before Beorn could frame lies that might work ill to both of us, or perhaps to me most of all. Yet I thought that I saw the shadow of judgment falling on the murderer.
"Bide quiet," said the man; "he will be here soon."
And then he said, looking from me to the dog, "Now I hold you as a true man, therefore I will tell you this--anger not the jarl when he speaks to you."
"Thanks, friend!" I answered heartily, "I think I shall not do that. Is he like his father?"
The man laughed shortly, only saying:
"Is darkness like daylight?"
"Then he is not like Jarl Halfden."
Now the honest man was going to ask in great wonder how I knew of him, when there came the quick trot of horses to the door, and a stern voice, which had in its tones somewhat familiar to me, called him:
"Raud, come forth!"