rding us; and when I woke he was yet there, motionless,
with far-off eyes that noted the little movement that I made, and
glanced at me to see that all was well.

In the grey of the morning the first of the chiefs to whom the arrow had
sped began to come in; but the jarl would not have Havelok waked, for he
was greatly troubled at the little wounds that had befallen this
long-waited guest. So the chiefs gathered very silently in the great
hall, and sat waiting while the light broadened and shone, gleam by
gleam, on their bright arms and anxious faces. It was not possible for
those who had not yet seen Havelok to be all so sure that it was indeed
he. They longed to see him, and to know him for the very son of Gunnar
for themselves.

Presently there were maybe twenty chiefs in the hall--men who had
fought beside Kirkeban, and men who had been boys with Havelok, and some
who had known his grandfather--and the jarl thought that it was time
that they had the surety that they needed, for time went on, and there
was certainty that Hodulf must hear of all this morning. One could not
expect that no man would earn reward by warning him.

So Sigurd went softly to the place where Havelok lay in the little guest
chamber that opened out of the inner room that was the jarl's own, and
he slid the boards that closed it apart gently and looked in to wake
him. But instead of doing that, he came back to the hall and beckoned
the chiefs, and they rose and followed him silently. And when they went
Raven went also, without a word, that he might be near his charge while
these many strangers spoke with him.

Now Sigurd stood at the spot where the little shifting of the sliding
board made it possible to see within the chamber, and one by one the
chiefs came and peered through the chink for a moment, and stood aside
for the next. And it was wondrous to see how each man went and looked
with doubt or wonder or just carelessly, and then turned away with a
great light of joy on his face and a new life in the whole turn and sway
of the body.

It was dark in the chamber, save for the dim spaces under the eaves that
let in the sweet air from the sea to the sleepers. But from somewhere
aloft, where the timbering of the upper walls toward the east had
shrunk, so that there was a little hole that faced the newly-risen sun,
came the long shaft of a sunbeam that pierced the darkness like a
glorious spear, and lit on the mighty shoulder of Havelok that l