er the
Ve; and that seemed to be of good omen, for the men shouted
joyfully once, and were again silent.

From behind the sanctuary two armed men led the horse for the
sacrifice that should be feasted on thereafter; and it was a
splendid colt, black and faultless, so that to me it seemed a
grievous thing that its life should thus be spilt for naught. Yet I
was the only one there who deemed it wasted.

Then Ingvar chanted words to which I would not listen, lest my
heart should seem to echo them, so taking part in the heathen
prayer. Over the horse he signed Thor's hammer, and slew it with
Thor's weapon, and the two men flayed and divided it skilfully,
laying certain portions before the jarl, the godar.

He sprinkled the blood upon doorway and statue, and then again
chanting, laid those portions upon the altar fire, and the black
smoke rose up from them, while all the host watched for what omens
might follow.

The smoke rose, wavered, and went up, and then some breath of wind
took it and drifted it gently into the open temple, winding it
round the head of Thor's image and filling all the little building.
And at that the men shouted again.

Then Ingvar turned slowly towards the shrine, and drawing his
sword, lifted up the broad shining blade as if in salute, crying as
he turned the point north and east and south and west:

"Skoal, ye mighty Ones!"

And at once, as one man all the host, save myself only, lifted
their weapons in salute, crying in a voice that rolled back from
the trees like an answering war shout:

"Skoal to the mighty Ones!"

But as for me, I stirred not, save that as by nature, and because I
fixed my thoughts on the One Sacrifice of our own faith, I signed
myself with the sign of the cross, only knowing this, that Thor and
Odin I would not worship.

Suddenly, even as the echo of the shout died away, and while the
weapons were yet upraised, the thick cloud of smoke rolled back and
down, wrapping round Ingvar the godar as he stood between shrine
and altar, and across the reek glared the sightless eyes of the
idol again, cold and heedless.

Now of all omens that was the worst, for it must needs betoken that
the sacrifice was not pleasing; and at that a low groan as of fear
went round the host. Then back started Ingvar, and I saw his face
through the smoke, looking white as ashes. For a long time, as it
seemed to me, there was silence, until the smoke rose up straight
again and was lost in the