ising to pay him
better ransom than he would get price if he sold us to the Moors--as
once befell a knight of my acquaintance sailing from Flushing.

"'Not by my father Guthrum's head," said he. "The Gods sent ye into my
ship for a luck-offering."

'At this I quaked, for I knew it was still the Danes' custom to
sacrifice captives to their Gods for fair weather.

"'A plague on thy four long bones!" said Hugh. "What profit canst thou
make of poor old pilgrims that can neither work nor fight?"

"'Gods forbid I should fight against thee, poor Pilgrim with the
Singing Sword," said he. "Come with us and be poor no more. Thy teeth
are far apart, which is a sure sign thou wilt travel and grow rich."

"'What if we will not come?" said Hugh. "'Swim to England or France,"
said Witta. "We are midway between the two. Unless ye choose to drown
yourselves no hair of your head will be harmed here aboard. We think
ye bring us luck, and I myself know the runes on that Sword are good."
He turned and bade them hoist sail.

'Hereafter all made way for us as we walked about the ship, and the
ship was full of wonders.'

'What was she like?' said Dan.

'Long, low, and narrow, bearing one mast with a red sail, and rowed by
fifteen oars a side,' the knight answered. 'At her bows was a deck
under which men might lie, and at her stern another shut off by a
painted door from the rowers' benches. Here Hugh and I slept, with
Witta and the Yellow Man, upon tapestries as soft as wool. I
remember'--he laughed to himself--'when first we entered there a loud
voice cried, "Out swords! Out swords! Kill, kill!" Seeing us start
Witta laughed, and showed us it was but a great-beaked grey bird with a
red tail. He sat her on his shoulder, and she called for bread and
wine hoarsely, and prayed him to kiss her. Yet she was no more than a
silly bird. But--ye knew this?' He looked at their smiling faces.

'We weren't laughing at you,' said Una. 'That must have been a parrot.
It's just what Pollies do.'

'So we learned later. But here is another marvel. The Yellow Man,
whose name was Kitai, had with him a brown box. In the box was a blue
bowl with red marks upon the rim, and within the bowl, hanging from a
fine thread, was a piece of iron no thicker than that grass stem, and
as long, maybe, as my spur, but straight. In this iron, said Witta,
abode an Evil Spirit which Kitai, the Yellow Man, had brought by Art
Magic out of his own coun