“What seekest thou, lord?” asked the Baresark.
“Rest,” said Eric, “and I find none.”
“Thou seekest rest helm on head and sword in hand? This is a strange thing, truly!”
“Stranger things have been, Skallagrim. Wouldst thou hear a tale?” and he told him all.
“What said I?” asked Skallagrim. “We had fared better in London town. Flying from the dove thou hast found the falcon.”
“I have found the falcon, comrade, and she has pecked out my eyes. Now I would speak with Atli, and then I go hence.”
“Hence go the twain of us, lord. The Earl will be here presently and rough words will fly in this rough weather. Is Whitefire sharp, Brighteyes?”
“Whitefire was sharp enough to shear my hair, Skallagrim; but if Atli would strike let him lay on. Whitefire will not be aloft for him.”
“That we shall see,” said Skallagrim. “At least, if thou art harmed because of this loose quean, my axe will be aloft.”
“Keep thou thine axe in its place,” said Eric, and as he spoke Atli came, and with him many men.