, many miles from his home, and all his
kin were slain. Rain blew from the south-west and beat in his face, the
brambles tore his legs, but he was dead to all things. Would that the
Shield Maids had chosen him to go with that brave company to the bright
hall of Odin! But he was only a boy and they did not choose striplings.

Suddenly in a clearing a pin-point of light pricked the darkness.

The desire for human companionship came over him, even though it were
that of enemy or outcast. He staggered to the door and beat on it
feebly. A voice spoke from within, but he did not hear what it said.

Again he beat and again the voice came. And now his knocking grew
feebler, for he was at the end of his strength.

Then the bar was suddenly withdrawn and he was looking inside a poor
hut, smoky from the wood-fire in the midst of it. An old woman sat by
it with a bowl in her hand, and an oldish man with a cudgel stood before
him. He did not understand their speech, but he gathered he was being
asked his errand.

"I am Biorn," he said, "and my father was Ironbeard, the King."

They shook their heads, but since they saw only a weary, tattered boy
they lost their fears. They invited him indoors, and their voices were
kindly. Nodding with exhaustion, he was given a stool to sit on and
a bowl of coarse porridge was put into his hands. They plied him with
questions, but he could make nothing of their tongue.

Then the thrall rose, yawned, and dropped the bar over the door. The
sound was to the boy like the clanging of iron gates on his old happy
world. For a moment he was on the brink of tears. But he set his teeth
and stiffened his drooping neck.

"I am Biorn," he said aloud, "and my father was a king."

They nodded to each other and smiled. They though his words were a grace
before meat.

CHAPTER 2. THE ENGLISHMAN

Part 1

The little hut among the oak trees was dim in the October twilight on
the evening of St. Callixtus' Day. It had been used by swineherds, for
the earthen floor was puddled by the feet of generations of hogs, and in
the corner lay piles of rotting acorns. Outside the mist had filled the
forest, and the ways were muffled with fallen leaves, so that the four
men who approached the place came as stealthily as shades.

They reconnoitred a moment at the entrance, for it was a country of war.

"Quarters for the night," said one, and put his shoulder to the door of
oak-toppings hinged on strips of cowhide.