The state of readiness for instant action in which the men were kept did not escape the observant eyes of the visitors. Besides an outlying mounted patrol, which they had managed to pass unobserved, and the sentries who conducted them, they found a strong guard round the range of farm buildings where the King and his men lay. These men were all well armed, and those of them who were not on immediate duty lay at their stations sound asleep, each man with his helmet on his head, his sword under it, his right hand grasping the hilt, and his shield serving the purpose of a blanket to cover him.
Although the young men observed all this they did not suffer their looks to betray idle curiosity, but rode on with stern countenances, looking, apparently, straight before them, until they reined up at the front door of the house.
In a few minutes a stout handsome man with white hair came out and saluted Erling in a friendly way. This was Jarl Rongvold, who was distantly related to him.
“I would I could say with truth that I am glad to see thee, cousin,” he said, “but I fear me that thine errand to the King is not likely to end in pleasant intercourse, if all be true that is reported of the folk in Horlingdal.”
“Thanks, kinsman, for the wish, if not for the welcome,” replied the youth, somewhat stiffly, as he dismounted; “but it matters little to me whether our intercourse be pleasant or painful, so long as it is profitable. The men of Horlingdal send a message to Harald Haarfager; can my companion and I have speech with him?”
“I can manage that for thee, yet would I counsel delay, for the King is not in a sweet mood to-night, and it may go ill with thee.”
“I care not whether the King’s mood be sweet or sour,” replied Erling sternly. “Whatever he may become in the future, Harald is not yet the all-powerful king he would wish to be. The men of Horlingdal have held a Thing, and Glumm and I have been deputed to see the King, convey to him their sentiments, and ask his intentions.”
A grim smile played on the jarl’s fine features for a moment, as he observed the blood mantling to the youth’s forehead.
“No good will come to thee or thine, kinsman, by meeting the King with a proud look. Be advised, Erling,” he continued in a more confidential tone; “it is easier to swim with the stream than against it—and wiser too, when it is impossible to turn it. Thou hast heard, no doubt, of Harald’s doings in the north.”
“I have heard,” said Erling bitterly.