sed, for there was strange work afoot in Hightown. The
King made a great festival in the Gods' House, the dark hall near the
Howe of the Dead, where no one ventured except in high noon. Cattle were
slain in honour of Thor, the God who watched over forays, and likewise
a great boar for Frey. The blood was caught up in the sacred bowls, from
which the people were sprinkled, and smeared on the altar of blackened
fir. Then came the oath-taking, when Ironbeard and his Bearsarks swore
brotherhood in battle upon the ship's bulwarks, and the shield's rim,
and the horse's shoulder, and the brand's edge. There followed the
mixing of blood in the same footprint, a rite to which Biorn was
admitted, and a lesser oath for all the people on the great gold ring
which lay on the altar. But most solemn of all was the vow the King made
to his folk, warriors and franklins alike, when he swore by the dew, the
eagle's path, and the valour of Thor.

Then it was Biorn's turn. He was presented to the High Gods as the
prince and heir.

Old Arnwulf hammered on his left arm a torque of rough gold, which he
must wear always, in life and in death.

"I bring ye the boy, Biorn Thorwaldson When the Gods call for Thorwald
it will be his part to lead the launchings and the seafarings and be
first when blows are going. Do ye accept him, people of Hightown?"

There was a swelling cry of assent and a beating of hafts on shields.
Biorn's heart was lifted with pride, but out of a corner of his eye he
saw his father's face. It was very grave, and his gaze was on vacancy.

Though it was a time of bustle, there was no joy in it, as there had
been at other hostings. The folk were too hungry, the need was too
desperate, and there was something else, a shadow of fate, which lay
over Hightown. In the dark of night men had seen the bale-fires burning
on the Howe of the Dead. A grey seal had been heard speaking with
tongues off Siggness, and speaking ill words, said the fishermen who saw
the beast. A white reindeer had appeared on Sunfell, and the hunter who
followed it had not been seen again. By day, too, there was a brooding
of hawks on the tide's edge, which was strange at that season. Worst
portent of all, the floods of August were followed by high north-east
winds that swept the clouds before them, so that all day the sky was a
scurrying sea of vapour, and at night the moon showed wild grey shapes
moving ever to the west. The dullest could not mistake their