"Life is too full for me to keep mind of such small events," answered Klerkon. "But since the lad is yours, what price do you now put upon him?"
"Nay, he is no chattel of mine," said the merchant. "He is the thrall of goodman Reas, over in Rathsdale--a morning's walk from here. If you would deal with him a guide will soon be got to take you over the hill."
"Young flesh will keep," returned the warrior. "I will buy the lad next time we come to Esthonia."
Sigurd said: "It may be that ere that time he will already be sold, Jarl Klerkon; for it chances that I also have taken a fancy to him."
"In that case," said the viking, "we may make him the stake to be fought for in our coming horse fight. And if my horse overcomes yours, then the lad shall be my prize, and I will make a viking of him."
"And how if the victory be mine and not yours?" asked Sigurd.
"You shall have value equal to the boy, be assured of that, hersir."
"Agreed," said Sigurd. "And now, what news have you from west over sea?"
"Ill news and good. There has fallen a great famine in Norway. In Thrandheim the folk are dying for lack of corn and fish, and in Halogaland the snow has lain over the valleys nigh until midsummer, so that all the livestock have been bound in stall and fed upon birch buds. Men lay the famine to the account of Gunnhild's sons, who are over greedy of money and deal hardly with the husbandmen. There is little peace in the land, for the kings are for ever quarrelling over their jointures; but it seems that Harald Greyfell is having the upper hand over his brothers. Little joy is there in ruling over a realm these days. I had rather be as I am, an honest sea rover."
"Doubtless the viking life is, after all, the most joyful that a man can live," said Sigurd. "How fare our friends at Jomsburg?"