“Have you seen this before?” asked Sigurd wistfully, and looking into Havelok’s face as he gave it into his hand.

One could feel that men waited his answer, and it came slowly.

“Ay, friend, I am sure that I have, but I cannot yet say when or where.  I am sure that it is not the first time that I have had it in my hand.”

And as he said this, Havelok’s face flushed a little, and his brow wrinkled as if he tried to bring back the things of that which he had thought his dream for so long.

It would seem that in the years there had grown up a tale that this was a magic horn, which none but the very son of Gunnar could wind, and to the chiefs who saw Havelok now for the first time this was a test to prove him.  But all knew that the words he spoke of it were proof enough, for a pretender would have said plainly that it had been Gunnar’s, and that he knew it.  I think that Sigurd was wise in what he did next, for he set another horn in my brother’s hand, and asked him the same question; and at this Havelok looked for a moment and shook his head.

“I have not seen that one before, nor one like it.  I am sure that I have seen this, or its fellow.”

At that the faces that watched brightened, for there was no doubt in the way that Havelok spoke; and then the old chief who had asked for the horn said, “That—­’The horn of the king is sounding’—­was the gathering word of the night that has brought us here, and long have we waited for it.  Let Havelok wind his father’s horn, that we may hear it once again.”

Then Havelok set it to his lips, and at once the call that he had remembered came back to him, and clear and sweet and full of longing its strange notes rang under the arched roof, unfaltering until the last; and then over him came the full remembrance of all that it had been to him, and he turned away from the many eyes and sank on the high seat, and set his head in his arms on the table, that men might not see that he needs must weep; and Goldberga stepped a little before him, and set her hand on his, for I think that she knew the loneliness that came on him.

Yet he was not alone in his sorrow, for down in the hall were men to whom the lost call brought back the memory of a bright young king riding to his home, and calling the son whom he loved with the call that he had made for him alone; and they saw the fair child running from the hall, and the mother following more slowly with smiles of welcome; and they saw the grim courtmen, who looked on and were glad; and they minded how they had lifted the boy to the war saddle; and their eyes grew hot with tears also, and they had no need to be ashamed.

And as men stood motionless, with the last notes of the wild horn yet ringing in their ears, there drifted a shadow across the days, and, lo! beside Havelok, with his hand on his shoulder, stood the form of Gunnar the king for a long moment, bright as any one of us who lived, in the morning sunlight, and his face was full of joy and of hope and promise for the time to come.  And then he passed, but as he faded from us his hand was on the hand of Goldberga that clasped her husband’s, as though he would wed them afresh there on the high place of his friend’s hall.