I also drank of the ale and drew a cloak about me, for the air was keen. Then I said,
“Let us go to the other ships and see what has chanced there.”
They got out the oars and rowed to Ragnar’s vessel, where we saw men stirring.
“How went it with you?” I asked of one who stood upon the prow.
“Not so ill, Olaf,” he answered. “We won, and but now, with the new light, have finished the game. They are all quiet yonder,” he added, nodding at the vessel of Athalbrand, to which they were still grappled.
“Where is Ragnar?” I asked.
“Come on board and see,” answered the man.
A plank was thrust out and I ran across it, fear gripping at my heart. Resting against the mast sat Ragnar, dying.
“Good morrow to you, Olaf,” he gasped. “I am glad you live, that there may be one left to sit at Aar.”
“What do you mean, my brother?”