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Page 2
Well, no doubt, I should find out more presently. Meanwhile, as I
have said, I cared for naught, lying still without a word. Then the
men from out of the hall were brought and set with us; for, blinded
as they were with the smoke, it had been easy to take them. That
one who was set down next me was black from head to foot and
scorched with the burning, but he tried to laugh as his eyes met
mine. It was Dalfin of Maghera, the Irish guest who was with us. He
had taken a passage in a Norse ship from Belfast, meaning to see
lands across the sea, and had bided here when he found that we
could show him hunting such as he had never heard of. The mighty
aurochs still fed on our hills, and we told tales in hall when
guests wondered at the great heads that were on the walls, of how
this one and that had been won. The ship had put in here to wait
for wind, and of course we were glad to see her crew and hear what
news they had of the greater world.
"Friend," I said, "it is hard that you should be brought to this
pass."
"It has been the best fight I ever knew," he answered. "The only
pity is that it has gone the wrong way. But yonder is a grand
funeral pile for the brave men who have fallen. Surely the smoke
will bring down the whole countryside on these ruffians?"
I shook my head. What happened to us was the affair of no Scot.
Rather they would be setting their own places in order in case
their turn came next.
"Well," said Dalfin, "whom are we fighting, then?"
One of our men answered him. He was a Norseman, named Sidroc.
"Red hand, wandering Vikings. Wastrels from every land, and no
man's men. Most of them are Danes, but I have heard the tongues of
Frisian and Finn and Northumbrian amongst them. We are in evil
case, for slavery is the least we have to fear."
"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.
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