“For what purpose camest thou hither if the men of Horlingdal hold such opinions?”
“We came to tell you, King Harald, what the men of Horlingdal think, and to ask what you intend to do.”
There was something so cool in this speech that a sort of grin curled the King’s moustache, and mingled with the wrath that was gathering on his countenance.
“I’ll tell thee what I will do,” he said, drawing his breath sharply, and hissing the words; “I will march into the dale, and burn and s—” He stopped abruptly, and then in a soft tone added, “But what will they do if I refuse to listen to them?”
“I know not what the men of Horlingdal will do,” replied Erling; “but I will counsel them to defend their rights.”
At this the King leaped up, and drew his sword half out of its scabbard, but again checked himself suddenly; for, as the Saga tells us, “it was his invariable rule, whenever anything raised his anger, to collect himself and let his passion run off, and then take the matter into consideration coolly.”
“Go,” he said, sitting down again at the window, “I will speak with thee on this subject to-morrow.”
Erling, who during the little burst of passion had kept his blue eyes unflinchingly fixed on those of the King, bowed and retired, followed by Glumm, whose admiration of his friend’s diplomatic powers would have been unbounded, had he only wound up with a challenge to the King, then and there, to single combat!