The whetstone
sang shrill on the sword edge as it kissed the steel behind me, and
the sound was good to hear as I went into darkness with my weapon
ready.

I half feared that my first step would be my last, but it was made
in safety. Very black seemed the low stone-walled passage before
me, and I had to stoop as I went on, feeling with my left hand
along the wall. The way was so narrow that little light could pass
my body, and therefore it seemed to grow darker as I went deeper
into the mound's heart.

Five steps I took, and then my outstretched hand was on the post
that ended the passage, and beyond that I felt nothing. I had come
to the inner doorway, and before me was the place where Sigurd lay.
Yet no fiery eyes glared on me, and nothing stirred. The air was
heavy with a scent as of peat, and the sound of the whetstone
seemed loud as I stood peering into the darkness.

I moved forward, and somewhat rattled under my foot, and I started.
Then my fear left me altogether, for I had trodden on dry bones,
and shuddered at the first touch of them in that place. I had faced
fear, and had overcome it; maybe it was desperation that made me
cool then, for it was certain now that I must be slain or else
victor over I knew not what.

So I took one pace forward into the chamber, and stood aside from
the doorway; and the grey light from the passage came in and filled
all the place, so that it fell first on him whom I had come to
seek--Jarl Sigurd of Orkney.

And when I saw, a great awe fell upon me, and a sadness, but no
terror; and in my heart I would that hereafter I might rest as
slept the hero where the hands that had loved him had placed him.

Into the silent place came once more with me the clank of mail and
weapons that he had loved, and from without the song of the keen
sword edge whispered to him; but these could not wake him.
Peacefully he seemed to sleep as I stood by his side, and I thought
that I should take back no word of his to the jarl, his brother,
whom both he and I loved.

They had brought the great carven chair on which he was wont to sit
on his ship's quarterdeck, and thereon had set the jarl, as though
he yet lived, and did but sleep as he sat from weariness after
fight, with helm and mail upon him. Shield and axe rested on either
side of him, ready to hand, against the chair; and behind him,
along the wall, were his spears, ashen shafted and rune graven.

His blue, fur-trimmed cloak was round hi