put a few finishing
touches to the sword, regarding it the while with a grim smile, as if he
speculated on the probability of his having formed a weapon wherewith
his own skull was destined to be cloven asunder. While he was thus
engaged his mother Herfrida entered.

The soft-eyed dame could scarcely be called a matronly personage.
Having married when about sixteen, she was now just thirty-eight years
of age; and though the bloom of maidenhood was gone, the beauty of a
well-favoured and healthy woman still remained. She wore a cloak of
rich blue wool, and under it a scarlet kirtle with a silver girdle.

"How now, my son," she said; "why these warlike preparations?"

"Because there is rumour of war; I'm sure that is neither strange nor
new to you, mother."

"Truly no; and well do I know that where war is, there my husband and my
son will be found."

Herfrida said this with a feeling of pride, for, like most of the women
of that time and country, she esteemed most highly the men who were
boldest and could use their weapons best.

"'Twere well if we were less noted in that way, and more given to
peace," said Erling half-jestingly. "For my own part, I have no liking
for war, but you women will be for ever egging us on!"

Herfrida laughed. She was well aware of what she was pleased to term
her son's weakness, namely, an idea that he loved peace, while he was
constantly proving to the world that he was just cut out for war. Had
he ever shown a spark of cowardice she would have regarded those
speeches of his with much anxiety, but as it was she only laughed at
them.

"Erling, my boy," she said suddenly, as her eye fell on the axe at his
side,--"what terrible weapon is this? Surely thou must have purchased
Thor's hammer. Can ye wield such a thing?"

"I hope so, mother," said Erling curtly; "if not, I shall soon be in
Valhalla's halls."

"What are these rumours of war that are abroad just now?" asked
Herfrida.

Erling replied by giving his mother an account of King Harald's recent
deeds, and told her of the calling of the Thing, and of the appearance
of the Danish vikings off the coast.

"May good spirits attend thee, my son!" she said, kissing the youth's
forehead fervently, as a natural gush of tenderness and womanly anxiety
filled her breast for a moment. But the feeling passed away as quickly
as it came; for women who are born and nurtured in warlike times become
accustomed and comparatively indiffere