A Sea Queens Sailing | Page 3

Charles W. Whistler

"Nay," said Dalfin; "death is a lesser evil than that."
"A man may make shift to escape from slavery," answered the other,
and both were silent.
Then for a moment I had half a hope that help was at hand for us, if too
late. Round the westward point crept two longships under their broad,
brown sails, making for our haven. But a second glance told me that
they were the ships belonging to this crew. Doubtless, they had landed
the force somewhere along the coast beyond our ken, and now were
coming to see how the raid had fared. The matter was plain enough to
me now.
Half a dozen men came toward us at this time, leaving the rest to sort
the piles of plunder they had brought from the village. I was glad, in a
sort of dull way, that none of it came from the hall, for at least no one
of them might boast that he wore my father's weapons and war gear.
The foremost of these men were a gray-haired old chief and a young
man of about my own age, who was plainly his son; and I thought it
certain that these two were the leaders of the foe. They were well
armed at all points, and richly clad enough, and I could but think them
of gentle birth. The men who followed them were hard-featured
warriors, whose dress and weapons were strange to me.
We sat still and stared back at them, as they stood before us, wondering
little and caring less, so far as I was concerned, for what they thought
or would say. The old chief ran his eye down our wretched line,
stroking his long beard as if noting our points, while the young man
seemed to have a sort of pity for us written on his face.
"Well," said the old chief at last, "you have made a good fight, if
foolish. You shall have your chance. Which of you will join me?"
"Tell us who you are first," said Dalfin; "that is only fair."
"I am Heidrek the Seafarer, and this is Asbiorn, my son. Mayhap you
have heard of us before."
I had done so. One of the men in our group had fled to us from Banff a
year ago, after just such a raid as this. I heard him groan as the name
was spoken.
Heidrek heard also, and laughed shortly.
"It seems that I am known," he said. "Well, make your choice. The
other choice is death, of course. I can leave no one to say that I am

collecting goods from this shore."
"Kill me, then," said Dalfin, while I made no answer.
Two of our men cried that they would join him, and their bonds were
cut by Heidrek's followers. One of them set himself by my side and
spoke to me at once.
"There are worse things than going on the Viking path, Malcolm, son
of my jarl," he said earnestly. "Blame me not."
I turned my head from him. Maybe I was wrong, but it seemed like
treachery. Yet, after all, save myself there was not one left of our line,
and he was deserting no one. Both these two were single men.
Young Asbiorn heard the man name me, and he came a pace nearer.
"So you are the son of the chief here," he said quietly. "What is your
name and rank? Will anyone ransom you?"
"I am the youngest son--I am worth nothing to any man," I said.
"He is Malcolm, the jarl's best-loved son," said that man of ours who
had asked my pardon. "Maybe his mother's folk will ransom him. His
grandfather is Melbrigda, the Scots jarl over yonder."
He pointed across the hills where the smoke hung among the heather,
and at that old Heidrek laughed, while the men at his heels chuckled
evilly. For some reason of their own, which, maybe, was not far to seek,
they were certain that Melbrigda could find ransom for no one at this
time, if he would. Asbiorn turned to our guest, seeing, no doubt, that he
was not of the house carles. The great gold torque on his neck seemed
to shine all the more brightly by reason of the blackened mail and cloak
that half hid it.
"My name?" said Dalfin, with a flash of pride in his gray eyes. "It is
Dalfin, prince of Maghera, in Ireland, of the line of the Ulster kings.
Kill me, and boast that once you slew a prince. No need to say that I
was bound when you did it."
He spoke the Danish of Waterford and Dublin well enough.
Asbiorn flushed, with some sort of manly shame, as I believe, and even
old Heidrek frowned uneasily. To
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