for the King loves
stout men, and will treat thee well; he is a good master."

"It grieves me that one whose blood flows in my veins should call any
man master!" said Erling.

"Now a plague on thee, for a stupid hot-blood," cried the jarl; "if thou
art so displeased with the word, I can tell thee that it need never be
used, for, if ye will take service with the King, he will give thee the
charge and the revenues of a goodly district, where thou shalt be master
and a jarl too."

"I am a king!" said Erling, drawing himself proudly up. "Thinkest thou
I would exchange an old title for a new one, which the giver has no
right to create?"

Glumm uttered another powerfully emphatic grunt at this point.

"Besides," continued Erling, "I have no desire to become a
scatt-gatherer."

The jarl flushed a little at this thrust, but mastering his indignation
said, with a smile--

"Nay, then, if ye prefer a warrior's work there is plenty of that at the
disposal of the King."

"I have no particular love for war," said Erling. Jarl Rongvold looked
at his kinsman in undisguised amazement.

"Truly thou art well fitted for it, if not fond of it," he said curtly;
"but as thou art bent on following thine own nose, thou art like to have
more than enough of that which thou lovest not.--Come, I will bring thee
to the King."

The jarl led the two young men into his dwelling, where nearly a hundred
men-at-arms were carousing. The hall was a long, narrow, and high
apartment, with a table running down each side, and one at either end.
In the centre of each table was a raised seat, on which sat the chief
guests, but, at the moment they entered, the highest of these seats was
vacant, for the King had left the table. The fireplace of the hall was
in the centre, and the smoke from it curled up among the rafters, which
it blackened before escaping through a hole in the roof.

As all the revellers were armed, and many of them were moving about the
hall, no notice was taken of the entrance of the strangers, except that
one or two near whom they passed remarked that Jarl Rongvold owned some
stout men-at-arms.

The King had retired to one of the sleeping-chambers off the great halt
in which he sat at a small window, gazing dreamily upon the magnificent
view of dale, fell, fiord, and sea, that lay stretched out before the
house. The slanting rays of the sun shone through the window, and
through the heavy masses of the King's golden hair, w