"Are you Christian men?" he asked, as he drew near, fixing his eyes on Sigurd.
"That we are," cried the latter, joyfully. "Where are we? Who are you who rescued us so opportunely?"
"You are on the coast of Ireland, and my city of Dublin is only three miles distant. These Irish would never have dared come so near had they not thought me absent from home on a cruise. I am Olaf, son of King Tryggve of Norway."
At this the Jomsvikings gazed in wonder on the handsome chief; then with a blast on his war-horn old Biorn led the shout:
"Skoal to King Olaf! Skoal!"
CHAPTER IX.
HOW ASTRID FARED FORTH.
"Thanks, friends!" smiled Olaf, and Sigurd thought that never in all his life had he seen so handsome and kingly a man. "Who are you, young sir? And who are these men? Truly, I have seldom beheld so fine a set of warriors, wounded though they are!"
"I am Sigurd Buisson of Bornholm, King, and with me is Astrid of Vendland, niece of Gunhild of Denmark. This is Ulf Ringsson, captain of our ship, and as for my men, they are the last of the Jomsvikings."
"What!" Olaf's eyes opened in amazement, and he threw down his weapons. "Tell me your tale, quickly! I heard of Svein's accession feast, but nothing of what followed. Has Sigvald, then, won Norway?"