t you took our words as you did. In all truth, I do
feel myself again in mail, and so must Malcolm."

I did, and said so. There are thoughts knit up in the steel
ringwork which are good for a man.

"The swords are in yon chamber," Gerda said quickly, not being very
willing, mayhap, to speak more in this wise. "I will ask Malcolm,
for he is a Norseman, to come and choose them."

That was the last thing I wished, but would not say so. Without a
word I went forward with her to the penthouse, and took down the
three loose timbers again. The dim chamber seemed very still, and
across its dimness the shafts of sunlight--which came through the
chinks in the rough timbering of walls and roofs--shifted and
glanced as if alive, as the ship swayed. One golden ray lit on the
still face of the old king, and it was almost as if he smiled as we
stood in the doorway. Gerda saw it, and spoke softly, stepping to
the side of the bier.

"It shall please you to arm these warriors who will seek Valhalla
with you, my grandfather. You were wont to arm the friends who
would be ready to fall at your side."

A wave lifted the ship and swung her, and the shaft of light swayed
across the chamber, sparkling on the arms which hung from the
timbers. It lit up the hilt of a gold-runed sword for a moment, and
then was gone.

"That is for you, Malcolm the Jarl," Gerda said. "Take it. Then
choose for the others."

Then I unhelmed and stooped and went into the chamber, and took
down the sword which the sunbeam had shown me. It hung from its own
baldric with an axe and a round shield. Gerda bade me take the
shield also, and I did so. Now I could see well enough to choose
for the others, for the dimness was but the change from the
sunshine outside on deck. I took a lighter weapon for Dalfin, and a
heavy, short sword for Bertric, and with them shields. No long
choice was needed, for not one of the weapons but was of the best.
So I turned, and came forth from the chamber, and gave the weapons
to Gerda, while I closed it once more. I think she bade the king
farewell at that time.

"You have my father's sword also," she said to me softly. "I think
that if you have but a little time to wear these things which he
loved, you will not dishonour them."

She gave me no time to say more, and I do not know what I could
have answered, save that I hoped that I might be worthy. Little
chance of much fighting were we likely to have--and yet there was
just a hop