humbugging us all along, but you were so open-mouthed to
all he said, that I was bound to let my elders choose for me. Let's
go back; send over for any of the tribes; send to Spain for those
Vandals--they have had enough of Adolf by now, curse him!--I'll warrant
them; get together an army, and take Constantinople. I'll be Augustus,
and Pelagia, Augusta; you and Smid here, the two Caesars; and we'll make
the monk the chief of the eunuchs, eh?--anything you like for a quiet
life; but up this accursed kennel of hot water I go no farther. Ask your
girls, my heroes, and I'll ask mine. Women are all prophetesses, every
one of them.'

'When they are not harlots,' growled Wulf to himself.

'I will go to the world's end with you, my king!' sighed Pelagia; 'but
Alexandria is certainly pleasanter than this.'

Old Wulf sprang up fiercely enough.

'Hear me, Amalric the Amal, son of Odin, and heroes all! When my fathers
swore to be Odin's men, and gave up the kingdom to the holy Annals, the
sons of the Aesir, what was the bond between your fathers and mine? Was
it not that we should move and move, southward and southward ever, till
we came back to Asgard, the city where Odin dwells for ever, and gave
into his hands the kingdom of all the earth? And did we not keep our
oath? Have we not held to the Amals? Did we not leave Adolf, because we
would not follow a Balth, while there was an Amal to lead us? Have we
not been true men to you, son of the Aesir?'

'No man ever saw Wulf, the son of Ovida, fail friend or foe.'

'Then why does his friend fail him? Why does his friend fail himself? If
the bison-bull lie down and wallow, what will the herd do for a leader?
If the king-wolf lose the scent, how will the pack hold it? If the
Yngling forgets the song of Asgard, who will sing it to the heroes?'

'Sing it yourself, if you choose. Pelagia sings quite well enough for
me.'

In an instant the cunning beauty caught at the hint, and poured forth a
soft, low, sleepy song:--

'Loose the sail, rest the oar, float away down, Fleeting and gliding by
tower and town; Life is so short at best! snatch, while thou canst, thy
rest, Sleeping by me!'

'Can you answer that, Wulf?' shouted a dozen voices.

'Hear the song of Asgard, warriors of the Goths! Did not Alaric the king
love it well? Did I not sing it before him in the palace of the Caesars,
till he swore, for all the Christian that he was, to go southward in
search of the holy city? And w