And all this happened years ago and is forgotten. If some one will hold
my cup I will drink "skaal" to the king that he has listened.

And this is the tale of the sweeping of the hall, that the old minstrel
used to tell at the board of King Gorm, waving his handless arms in the
glow of the firelight.

AN INCIDENT

The great fog lay dun over the sea, and the shadows moved over the
motionless ship, passing swiftly; yet there was no wind.

We lay wrapped in the wood-ashes coloured air, through which the mast
shone glimmering in many lines when you looked at it, idly swinging
under no wind. Easily the water slipped by, dimly streaked, through the
cloudy vapour. The men from the stern could not be seen by those in the
bow.

We yawned and stretched ourselves, the peculiar smell of the fog rising
into our nostrils. The warm air lay like the weight of a cloud on our
foreheads, and we grumbled wearily, wanting a sight of the sun.

While we waited thus sighing, out of the dun vapour on the right came a
cry indistinguishable. After we had been on our feet for some moments,
there came the swift wash of oar-blades, and their rabble on the
gunwale, going very fast.

Then the sound of a far-away crash, and, after a little, clinking as of
knife on glass, and a dead murmur of voices in the fog.

We straightened ourselves, and after a moment of hesitation, my lord
gave the word to get out the oars, which we did very gladly though with
little noise, pulling carefully, our mast-top lost in the shifting roof.
Very soon we could hear the sound of the fighting coming quite plainly
over the dusky sea; and in a little time thereafter, we saw, while the
vapour swirled back for a moment, three brown hulks near together. We
lay on the edge of the foam-touched space of water, catching
occasionally glimpses of the moving shapes: only a large piece of wood
floated past us.

Have you ever listened to a fight at sea? The men were leaning over the
bulwarks, their hands on their axe-handles, their feet grasping firmly
the deck. My lord raised himself in a moment; we ran swiftly along the
water under the quick, ragged stroke, the ships rose before us, we
swept past the side of the largest one, dropping the oars.

The man next to me leans back suddenly just as my bow twangs; arrows
strike into the bulwarks.

Fierce faces and bent bows send their sound of shouting and twanging at
us over the close side of the enemies' ship. We thrust