But of all his treasures won in war or trading, nothing gave him greater honour than his white bearskin; for the fame of his winning travelled far, and was sung in winter nights by harpers round the roaring fire which peopled the far corners with ghosts and leaping shadows, which might well be the wraiths of bears and wolves still haunting the land where once they lived, and roared, and howled,--or so thought the younger people. If the truth be told, so thought not a few of the older ones too, for those were days when men believed in magic, and in the power of dwarfs, elves and gnomes who were supposed to work in caves deep in the mountain sides, making magic arms, and other witchcraft things.

About this time, the great outside world began to move on a little faster. More was happening, day by day, worth remembering, and thus called History. Wars were afoot in half a dozen countries, and at last like a light flame war came flickering around the fjords, touching now here, now there. Even Sigurd's distant vik was beset, and Thorold the Strong, now as mighty a man as Thorolf his father, struck such strokes among the invaders that many supposed he was the leader, and told tales of the giant that made the pirates rather shy of coming back again.

Yet always in each tale, there was some word of another leader, and always word of a lost ship, sometimes of more than one; so when they talked it over it began to dawn on many that the stories told so fully were told by men who escaped from Thorold; but the tale was so scanty about the slighter leader in the glittering mail because men whom _he_ met never came back to boast of it. When once he shot over the side of a long-ship at the head of his men, that was ever but the beginning of the end. Not many minutes later, war would cease on that particular craft, no one being left to defend it. This did not make the wise- heads anxious to try it for themselves. But for a while, hot-headed young men who wanted to win great fame in a voyage, without waiting for it to come in many voyages, as most must do, thought that a viking trip to Sigurd's Vik was the speediest way of getting it.

Now and then some young madcap would do more than think about it, and with cheers would sail away for Sigurd's Vik; but it is not recorded that many men thus won the fame they went for. So at last every one very sensibly decided that the Vik was an excellent place for fighting, but a still better place to leave alone, and then war died out, and slowly trade began again.

With the trade came news, as usual. Across the seas at no great distance lay Denmark. Further off yet was Britain, where the tin came from, and some gold. Now word came that in Denmark a mighty king had arisen, who had conquered all England, in Britain, and was now ruling both lands. Great was the wonder throughout all the Northland, for fierce were the fighters who dwelt in Britain, and such a deed had never been done before. This was better than fighting off pirates in the mouth of a vik, thought Ulf. Moreover, the pirates had ceased to come.

So Ulf welcomed the traders heartily, and gave them good bargains; and in return, while he listened, they told him all they knew about the king, which was not much, to be sure. That he was not a very young man was certain, for he had a son as old as Ulf. But they told one strange thing about him at which all wondered. When the King was a young man of Ulf's age, he was as fierce a warrior as ever held a shield, and toward the conquered was as relentless as a wolf. They told wild tales of his cruelty then.

This was common enough in the world, and Ulf said nothing. But they went on to tell that which to Ulf was indeed a very curious thing.

When England lay at this fighter's feet, beaten, every one expected as a matter of course that all the captured leaders would be killed, and all the gold, and furs, and lands would be seized by the King for his own use. But nothing of the kind happened! Instead, he began a rule so good-hearted, so fair and just to all, whether British or Dane, and toward past enemies as well as toward friends, that his enemies were more than half inclined to be friends. The country was growing rich in cattle, and was better to live in than ever before,--indeed quite like Sigurd's Vik in that respect, a state of things natural enough where a Sigurd ruled, but not at all where a Knut did,--for Knut or Canute, as it is sometimes written, was this new king's name.

Lastly, strangest of all, this wild warrior, yet mild-ruling king, had proclaimed throughout the land that he no longer believed in Thor, nor Odin, nor the other cruel G.o.ds of the North, but declared that they did not even exist! He worshipped, they said, one G.o.d only, a merciful One, who did not love bloodshed and murder, for which reason there should be none of it throughout the kingdom. And there was very little of it indeed. Men knew so well what the King himself had done in that line, in the past, that they were in no hurry to disobey him now, lest perhaps they might find that he had forgotten nothing of his oldtime handy use of battle-axe. So there was peace from one end of the country to the other.

Now, Edith Fairhair sat in the highseat when this was told, and she became very curious about it. Ulf sat silently by, with his chin in his hand, with the firelight flashing from his mail, and listened.

When the tale was told, and they were alone, they looked into each other's eyes, and both laughed softly, each reading the same thought.

"Would'st care to go, Edith?"

"Far hast thou sailed, Ulf, and much hast thou seen. Yet Vik-mouth is as far as I have travelled. I would like to see that fair land."

"There may be storms," he said, teasingly.

"I like storms."

"There may be pirates on the way." And his face grew sober.

"I am Sigurd's daughter, and the wife of Ulf," was the proud reply.

After that of course there was not much left to say; but all the same, Ulf looked more carefully into the strength of his longship that week than even he or Sigurd ever had before a voyage. Not an arrow went on board which he did not test with his own fingers, and send to the smithy if not perfect,--and who was a better judge of ironwork than he? While the men he chose for the crew were the st.u.r.diest, toughest, craftiest set of rascals that ever sailed from a vik. Every one of them was fit to command a longship if the captain was laid low. And every man of them, because of it, knew how to obey on the instant, or if need be, to win a battle without orders. And in a safe hiding-place was a large bundle. It contained a present for the King.

Merrily flashed the sunlight on the oarblades. Edith Fairhair was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with questions, too excited to sit still. It was her first voyage, and Ulf the Silent talked more than he ever did before in his life, explaining things that he knew about and forgetting to answer when he didn't know. Once, on the voyage, they had a touch of war, and Ulf looked at Edith and felt a sudden thrill which he had never felt before when a fight was coming. If he lost now, he lost what a kingdom could not replace.

On came the enemy's craft with the swift confidence of many a capture.

But while yet beyond bowshot it was suddenly checked and hung in the wind, even backing water a little. That stern, silent figure standing in the opposing prow seemed familiar to the wary captain. That glittering mail, the dragon-crest on the helmet, that too had he seen --somewhere. Ha! Now he remembered. Once before he had thanked his stars that his had not been the ship which the man in mail had boarded. There was no other ship to take the brunt this time, and his cheek turned a little pale.

The vessels drifted a little nearer, and the stranger hailed,

"Art thou not Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik?"

"Yea!"

A flutter swept through the stranger-craft, and a pause. Its men flashed at each other startled looks.

"Is it war?" the captain asked again, hoping his men would not note the little tremble in his voice.

"War have I seen," was the curt reply, and there was a tw.a.n.g as a bow was strung. Then Edith said a swift word to which Ulf listened, frowning, yet called to the undecided captain.

"Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik, has seen too much war to be afraid to offer peace to any man. Choose thou!"

The stranger laughed a laugh of relief, but said,

"Peace it shall be, since that is a new thing to both of us. I am Thorfin the Viking."

Ulf's face darkened.

"Had I known thy name before, the choice would not have been left to thee. It is peace for this time; but Thorfin the Viking will do well to sail south instead of north, for when we meet next Thorfin's ship quickly will need another captain,"--which was a very long and unamiable speech for Ulf the Silent to make. And he allowed his ship to drift until the sail of the other had dropped below the horizon, still speeding southward like a scared white rabbit, that is happy in a close shave from the snap of a wolf. Then Ulf swung his yard to the wind again, saying only,

"Truly, Edith, one sea-thief owes thee thanks to-night," and went his way.

Knut the Great sat on his throne-seat in his raftered hall. Here and there little groups of his chief men chatted and exchanged news, but Knut heard them not. The dark carving of his seat showed richly through the furs that draped it, and white gleams of walrus ivory lighted the darkness, but Knut saw them not. An official was giving an account of what had occurred of late in the village under his command, but for once Knut listened with only half an ear as he sat there with his chin in his hand, for from the sh.o.r.e below there came the soft wash of the ever restless sea which the King so dearly loved. The swash brought swiftly to mind the days of his youth when his life was all before him, and his kingdom was the length of his deck. Those were happy days, indeed, when the right ruling of a great land was not among his duties! For power has its own troubles, and the King would not be remembered so long had his reign not been a good as well as a great one.

The hum of voices came up from the sh.o.r.e, and all the well-known sounds of the harbour-life, the splash of a rope falling in the water, the thud of an oar flung down, the grating of a keel drawn up on the shingly beach. And suddenly he was conscious that it had ceased, all save the more distinctly sounding water. Surprised, he glanced quickly through the open door, and saw that all the sh.o.r.e-folk had stopped their work to gaze at a longship flying swiftly onward; a stranger, evidently, for a man was on the mast watching out for hidden rocks and pointing out the channel to the steersman. The long row of shields hung outboard on each side told that it was something more than a peaceful trader, and Knut watched with interest, motioning for silence.

With a rush the craft shot half her length on sh.o.r.e and her crew poured out in a well-trained throng, which without delay swung into column and headed for the hall. Knut the Great eyed them with admiration. Never had he seen a st.u.r.dier set of men; and something in the lithe young leader at their head, all glittering with shining mail, reminded him of his own lost youth, of which but the moment before he had been dreaming. A young woman walked by the captain's side, fair-haired, fair-faced, with a gleam of gold in her collar and bracelets of gold on her round arm. Then at a sign, the men halted, and the pair came on alone.

With his curiosity aroused, and in the free manner of the times, the King left his seat and came to the entrance to meet them. The light was better out of doors.

Neither bow nor salute did the young man make until he was at the very portal; then he saw before him a slight, gray man, rather plain of dress, who looked rather than asked his business.

"Is this the hall of Knut the Great?"

"Yea."

"I have come to have speech with him."

"And thou?" The keen eyes supplied the rest of the question.

"Ulf the Silent, of Sigurd's Vik," was the brief reply.

The questioner started slightly as though the name was not unknown to him, and glanced quickly at the men beyond, but they had not stirred.

Then after a moment, he said,

"Come!" and wheeling, led the way back to the audience hall. Ulf saw his guide stride forward to an empty throne-seat into which he sank, and with his chin in his hand said, quietly,

"I am Knut the King."

For a breathing-s.p.a.ce Ulf halted, startled. This the King! Then he recovered his wits again.

"Sigurd's Vik is well governed; but men say England and Denmark are better ruled. This have I come to see, and with me Sigurd's daughter, now my wife." The King smiled, not ill-pleased at what he heard.

"Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik, is not unknown to me by hearsay, and right glad am I to meet him, and to talk of the ways of ruling men. Yet if what I hear be true, he need not cross vik-mouth to find just ruling."

And he had seats brought for them, and food and drink, as was the custom, sending, too, for his sister to receive Edith Fairhair as her guest. But Ulf, for once, appeared ill at ease to her who knew his ways so well.

Then the King began to talk of government in words so wise, so thoughtful, that he forgot his own thoughts and listened heartily, planning to make good use of what he learned, in after days. The other men in the hall had gathered to meet the stranger, and they, too, said their word now and then, for those were the days when every man who had a good word to say in council was in no way backward about saying it. But some were not so courteous to the stranger as they might have been, and said one, when Ulf modestly raised a doubt in a case which he did not fully understand,