CHAPTER XIII.
ALFRED OF MERCIA.
They dashed down the hill, and in a few minutes were through the trees and on the river bank. They found Biorn drawing up his men.
"Why, what's the matter, Biorn?"
"I am not sure, Jarl, but look up the ice yonder."
He pointed up the frozen bed of the little river, and Sigurd saw a large party of armed men, pulling a sledge, running toward them. Sigurd examined them for a minute.
"I don't think they mean to attack us, Biorn, or they would not have that sledge. They look like Saxons, so best be ready."
By this time more men had arrived from the ships, and as the Saxons approached, Sigurd saw that there were some fifty men in the party. Finding the Northmen waiting, they stopped running, and one, better dressed than the rest, in a bearskin mantle and helmet, hastened on.
As he came near, Astrid said, "Why, Sigurd, he isn't any older than you are! And you were afraid of him!"
Sigurd made no reply save a smile, for, indeed, the Saxon was only a youth, but a noble-looking one. Nearly as tall as Sigurd, he was not so broad, but his face was frank, and attracted the young Jarl at once.
"Are you Danes or Norsemen?" called the stranger.