Ulf's face darkened.
"Had I known thy name before, the choice would not have been left to thee. It is peace for this time; but Thorfin the Viking will do well to sail south instead of north, for when we meet next Thorfin's ship quickly will need another captain,"—which was a very long and unamiable speech for Ulf the Silent to make. And he allowed his ship to drift until the sail of the other had dropped below the horizon, still speeding southward like a scared white rabbit, that is happy in a close shave from the snap of a wolf. Then Ulf swung his yard to the wind again, saying only,
"Truly, Edith, one sea-thief owes thee thanks to-night," and went his way.
Knut the Great sat on his throne-seat in his raftered hall. Here and there little groups of his chief men chatted and exchanged news, but Knut heard them not. The dark carving of his seat showed richly through the furs that draped it, and white gleams of walrus ivory lighted the darkness, but Knut saw them not. An official was giving an account of what had occurred of late in the village under his command, but for once Knut listened with only half an ear as he sat there with his chin in his hand, for from the shore below there came the soft wash of the ever restless sea which the King so dearly loved. The swash brought swiftly to mind the days of his youth when his life was all before him, and his kingdom was the length of his deck. Those were happy days, indeed, when the right ruling of a great land was not among his duties! For power has its own troubles, and the King would not be remembered so long had his reign not been a good as well as a great one.
The hum of voices came up from the shore, and all the well-known sounds of the harbour-life, the splash of a rope falling in the water, the thud of an oar flung down, the grating of a keel drawn up on the shingly beach. And suddenly he was conscious that it had ceased, all save the more distinctly sounding water. Surprised, he glanced quickly through the open door, and saw that all the shore-folk had stopped their work to gaze at a longship flying swiftly onward; a stranger, evidently, for a man was on the mast watching out for hidden rocks and pointing out the channel to the steersman. The long row of shields hung outboard on each side told that it was something more than a peaceful trader, and Knut watched with interest, motioning for silence.
With a rush the craft shot half her length on shore and her crew poured out in a well-trained throng, which without delay swung into column and headed for the hall. Knut the Great eyed them with admiration. Never had he seen a sturdier set of men; and something in the lithe young leader at their head, all glittering with shining mail, reminded him of his own lost youth, of which but the moment before he had been dreaming. A young woman walked by the captain's side, fair-haired, fair-faced, with a gleam of gold in her collar and bracelets of gold on her round arm. Then at a sign, the men halted, and the pair came on alone.
With his curiosity aroused, and in the free manner of the times, the King left his seat and came to the entrance to meet them. The light was better out of doors.
Neither bow nor salute did the young man make until he was at the very portal; then he saw before him a slight, gray man, rather plain of dress, who looked rather than asked his business.
"Is this the hall of Knut the Great?"
"Yea."