e greatest excuse for you in this affair. I bid you welcome, and I
offer you a share in everything I own. If it is your choice, you shall
go back to Brattahlid with me; and my home shall be your home for
whatever time you wish."

Sigurd thanked him with warmth and dignity. Then a twinkle of mischief
shone at the comers of his handsome mouth; after the fashion of the
French court, he bent over the brawny outstretched hand and kissed it.

A murmur of mingled amazement and amusement went up from the group. Leif
himself gave a short laugh as he jerked his hand away.

"This is the first time that ever my fist was mistaken for a maiden's
lips. It is to be hoped that this is not the most useful accomplishment
you have brought from France. Now go and try your fine manners on
Helga,--if you do not fear for your ears. I wish to speak with this
thrall."

But Helga had not now spirit enough to avenge the salute. She drooped
over the fire, staring absently into the embers; the heat toasting her
delicate face rose-red, the light touching her hair into a wonderful
golden web. She looked up at Sigurd with a faint frown; then dropped her
chin back into her hands and forgot him.

Alwin came and placed himself before the chief's seat, where the young
Viking had stood. He was not so picturesque a figure, with his shorn
head and his white slaves'-dress; but he stood straight and supple in
his young strength, his head haughtily erect, his eyes bright and
fearless as a young falcon's.

Leif put his questions. "What are you called?"

"I am called Alwin, Edmund Jarl's son."

"Jarl-born? Then it is likely that you can handle a sword?"

"Not a few of your own men can bear witness to that."

Rolf spoke up with his quiet smile. "The boy speaks the truth. One would
think that he had drunk nothing but dragon's blood since his birth."

"So?" said Leif dryly. "It may be that I should be thankful my men are
not torn to pieces. But these accomplishments count for naught; none
here but have them. You must accomplish something that I think of more
importance, or I shall sell you and buy a man-thrall who has been
trained to work. It seems that you can read runes: can you also write
them?"

In a flash of memory, Alwin saw again Brother Ambrose's cell, and his
rebellious self toiling at the desk; and he marvelled that in this
far-off place and time that toil was to be of use to him.

"To some small degree I can," he answered. "I learned in my b