of kings whose names he had
never heard, and of the darkness gathering about the Norland, and famine
and awe stalking upon the earth.

Then came a whisper from Leif asking the fortune of the young prince of
Hightown.

"Death," said the weird-wife, "death--but not yet. The shears of the
Norns are still blunt for him, and Skuld has him in keeping."

There was silence for a space, for the fit was passing from Katla.
But the voice came again in broken syllables. "His thread runs
westward--beyond the Far Isles... not he but the seed of his loins
shall win great kingdoms ... beyond the sea-walls.... The All-Father
dreams.... Nay, he wakes... he wakes..."

There was a horrible choking sound, and the next Biorn knew was that
Leif had fetched water and was dashing it on Katla's face.

It was nearly a week before Biorn recovered his spirits after this
adventure, and it was noticeable that neither Leif nor he spoke a word
to each other on the matter. But the boy thought much, and from that
night he had a new purpose. It seemed that he was fated to travel far,
and his fancy forsook the homely life of his own wicks and fells and
reached to that outworld of which he had heard in the winter's talk by
the hall fire.

There were plenty of folk in Hightown to satisfy his curiosity. There
were the Bearsarks, who would spin tales of the rich Frankish lands and
the green isles of the Gael. From the Skridfinns he heard of the bitter
country in the north where the Jotuns dwelt, and the sun was not and the
frost split the rocks to dust, while far underground before great fires
the dwarves were hammering gold. But these were only old wives' tales,
and he liked better the talk of the sea-going franklins, who would
sail in the summer time on trading ventures and pushed farther than any
galleys of war. The old sailor, Othere Cranesfoot, was but now back from
a voyage which had taken him to Snowland, or, as we say, Iceland. He
could tell of the Curdled Sea, like milk set apart for cheese-making,
which flowed as fast as a river, and brought down ghoulish beasts and
great dragons in its tide. He told, too, of the Sea-walls which were the
end of the world, waves higher than any mountain, which ringed the whole
ocean. He had seen them, blue and terrible one dawn, before he had swung
his helm round and fled southwards. And in Snowland and the ports of the
Isles this Othere had heard talk from others of a fine land beyond the
sunset, where corn gr