except
that it was certainly some plan for the good of the land. I and my
comrades hunted and hawked day by day until the evening came, and
then would sup plainly with the king, and then sit at Neot's door
in the warm evening, and talk together till the stars came out.

Many things we spoke of, and Neot told me what I would. I cannot
write down those talks, though I mind every word of them. But there
was never any talk of the runes I had offered.

Neot spoke mostly, but Alfred put in words now and then that ever
seemed to make things plainer; and I mind how Ethelnoth the
ealdorman sat silent, listening to questions and answers that maybe
he had never needed to put or hear concerning his own faith.

At first I was only asking because the king wished it, then because
I grew curious, and because I thought it well to know what a
Saxon's faith was if I was to bide among Alfred's folk. Kolgrim
listened, saying nought. But presently Harek the scald would ask
more than I, and his questions were very deep, and I thought that
as days went on he grew thoughtful and silent.

Then one evening the song woke within the scald's breast, and he
said to Neot:

"Many and wise words have you spoken, Father Neot. Hear now the
song of Odin--the Havamal--and tell me if you have aught to equal
it."

"Sing, my son," the good man answered. "Wisdom is from above, and
is taught in many ways."

Then Harek sang, and his voice went over the hillsides, echoing
wonderfully; while we who heard him were very still, unwilling to
lose one word or note of the song. Many verses and sayings of the
"Havamal" I knew, but I had not heard it all before. Now it seemed
to me that no more wisdom than is therein could be found {ix}.

So when Harek ended Neot smiled on him, and said:

"That is a wondrous song, and I could have listened longer. There
is little therein that one may not be wiser in remembering."

"There is nought wiser; it is Odin's wisdom," said Harek.

Now the old hermit, Guerir, Neot's friend, sat on the stone bench
beside the king, and he said:

"Hear the words of the bards, the wondrous 'triads' of old time."

And he chanted them in a strange melody, unlike aught I had ever
heard. And they, the old savings, were wise as the "Havamal"
itself. But he stopped ere long, saying:

"The English words will not frame the meaning rightly. I do no
justice to the wisdom that is hidden."

Then Neot turned to the king, and said:

"Sing to Ha