Well used was I to all this, but never seemed it more homelike to me than when I came in fresh from the the cold, gray sea.

And now there stood on the high place to welcome us those whose presence made the place yet more beautiful to me—­my mother, and Eadgyth my sister, and beside them were Bishop Humbert, our own bishop, and many thanes of the court, and some of the bishop’s clergy.  Such a gathering my father, and, indeed, all of us, loved, for all were well known to us.

Now I went to greet these dear ones and friends, and there was pleasant jest and laughter at us for coming thus sea clad and spray stained into the midst of that gay company.  So that for a little time I forgot Lodbrok, who had not followed me beyond the hearth.

Then Eadgyth said to me: 

“Who is that noble-looking man who stands so sadly and alone by the fire?”

I turned, blaming myself for this forgetfulness, and there was the Dane gazing into the flames, and seeming heedless of all that was going on.  Nor do I think that I had ever seen one look so sad as looked that homeless man, as he forgot the busy talk and movement around him in some thoughts of his own.

So I went to him, touching his arm gently, and he started a little.  Then his grave smile came, and he said: 

“Truly, Wulfric, I had forgotten all things but my own home, and when I woke from my dream at your touch, half thought I that you were Halfden—­that youngest son of mine of whom I told you.”

Then so wistfully looked he at me that I could not forbear saying to him: 

“You must hold me as in Halfden’s place, for this will be your house, if you will, until there comes a ship that will take you home.  Gladly will some of the Frisians we know take you at least to the right side of the broad seas.”

“Aye, gladly would some have Lodbrok the Jarl with them,” he answered, smiling strangely.

What he meant, beyond that he might pilot them well, I knew not, nor, indeed, thought that any hidden meaning lay in his words.  So that his saying passed from my mind, until one day when I should have cause to understand it well enough.

I would have taken him now to present him to my mother, but she was gone, and there came to us one of the steward’s men, who stared at the Dane as if he were some marvel, having doubtless heard his story from one of the seamen, but covered his wonder by bowing low and bidding him to an inner room where the thane had prepared change of garment for him.  For my father, having the same full belief and trust in the stranger’s word, would no more than I treat him in any wise but as an honoured guest.

Then said Lodbrok: 

“Good shall surely ever be to the house that will thus treat a wanderer.  Hardly would a castaway meet with so great kindness in my own land.  Nor do I think that we Danes have made our name so well loved among English folk that we should look for the like among them.”