“Such help as you may, rather.  For now we all serve the princess,” Havelok said.

And with that Berthun was well content for the time.

“Well, then,” said I, “see to Havelok’s arms, while we get the horses ready, for I want Withelm here.”

So Havelok and his new man went into the house with his arms, and then I saw Goldberga beckoning to us.  It was the first time that I had spoken to her, and I think that I was frightened, if that is what they call the feeling that makes one wish to be elsewhere.  But there was nothing to fear in the sweet face that she turned to us.

“Brothers,” she said, “Havelok tells me that it was one of you who brought David the priest to me.  I do not rightly know yet which is Withelm.”

With that she smiled and blushed a little, and I stood, helm in hand, stupidly enough.  But my brother was more ready.

“I am Withelm, my princess—­” he began.

“Nay; but ‘sister’ it shall be between me and my husband’s brothers.  Now, brother Withelm, there is one thing that is next my heart, and in it I know you will help me.”

There she wavered for a moment, and then went on bravely.

“Christian am I, and I do not think that we are rightly wedded until the priest has done his part.  And to that Havelok agrees most willingly, saying that I must ask you thereof, for he does not know where the old man is now.”

“Wedded in the little chapel that is in the thick of Cabourn woods shall you be, for David has gone there already.  We can ride and find him before many hours are over, sweet lady of ours.”

She thanked him in few words, and with much content.

Then came forth from the house Havelok, in the arms that suited him so well—­golden, shining mail shirt of hard bronze scales, and steel, horned helm, plain and strong, and girt with sword and seax, and with axe and shield slung over shoulder, as noble a warrior surely as was in all England, ay, or in the Northlands that gave him birth either; and what wonder that the eyes of the princess glowed with a new pride as she looked at her mighty husband?

But Mord almost shouted when he saw him come thus, and to me he said,

“It is Gunnar—­Gunnar, I tell you—­come back from Asgard to help my princess.”

“Wait till we get to Grimsby, and Arngeir will make all clear,” I said.  “Get into your arms, and we will start.  All is ready now.”

We did not wait for Mord, but mounted and rode out, and the princess looked round at us as she rode first beside Havelok, and said, “Never have I ridden so well attended, as I think.”

And from beside me, with broad face from under his helm, Berthun answered for us all, “Never with men so ready to die for you, at least, my mistress.”

And that was true.

Half a mile out of the town we rode at a quick trot, and then thundered Mord after us, and his hurry surely meant something.  I reined up and waited for him.