t king? Better, it seemed to me, that this had not
happened, and that he had been yet the happy, careless, well-loved son
of Grim, with no thought of aught higher than the good of the folk he knew.

When I got back to the gate, we were marched down the town, that we
might be ready to receive the princess; and as I went through the
market, I saw one of the porters whom I knew, and I beckoned to him, so
that he came alongside me in the ranks, and I asked him if he would go
to Grimsby for me for a silver penny. He would do it gladly; and so I
sent him with word to Arngeir that I needed one of them here to take a
gift that I had for them. I would meet whoever came at the widow's
house, and I set a time when I would look for them. I thought it was
well that the king's gold should not be wasted, even for a day's use, if
I could help it. And I wearied to see one of the brothers, and hear all
that was going on.

CHAPTER XI. THE COMING OF THE PRINCESS.

There is no need for me to tell aught of the entry of the Lady Goldberga
into the town, for anyone may know how the people cheered her, and how
the party were met by the Norfolk thanes and many others, and so rode on
up the hill to the palace. What the princess was like I hardly noticed
at that time, for she was closely hooded, and her maidens were round
her. And I had something else to think of; for foremost, and richly
dressed, with a gold chain round his neck, rode a man whose strange way
of carrying his head caught my eye at once, so that I looked more than a
second time at him.

And at last I knew him. It was that man of ours whose neck had been
twisted by the way in which he had been hauled on board at the time of
the wreck, and had afterwards gone to Ethelwald's court. One would say
that this Mord had prospered exceedingly, for he was plainly a man of
some consequence in the princess's household. He did not know me, though
it happened that he looked right at me for a moment; but I did not
expect him to do so after twelve years, seeing that I was but a boy when
we parted. I thought that I would seek him presently.

Then I saw Griffin, the Welsh thane, and I did not like the looks of him
at all. He was a black-haired man, clean shaven, so that the cruel
thinness of his lips was not hidden, and his black eyes were restless,
and never stayed anywhere, unless he looked at Ragnar for a moment, and
then that was a look of deadly hatred. He wore his armour well, and had