“He was our jarl—­ours,” he answered.

“Who is the other jarl you speak of?” I asked him, with a hope that
Halfden had come home, for now I knew that we had indeed followed
Lodbrok’s track exactly.

“How should it be other than Ingvar Lodbroksson? for we have held that Lodbrok, his father, is dead this many a long day.”

“Let me go to the jarl,” I said, rising up.  “I would speak with him,” for I would, if possible, tell him the truth, before Beorn could frame lies that might work ill to both of us, or perhaps to me most of all.  Yet I thought that I saw the shadow of judgment falling on the murderer.

“Bide quiet,” said the man; “he will be here soon.”

And then he said, looking from me to the dog, “Now I hold you as a true man, therefore I will tell you this—­anger not the jarl when he speaks to you.”

“Thanks, friend!” I answered heartily, “I think I shall not do that.  Is he like his father?”

The man laughed shortly, only saying: 

“Is darkness like daylight?”

“Then he is not like Jarl Halfden.”

Now the honest man was going to ask in great wonder how I knew of him, when there came the quick trot of horses to the door, and a stern voice, which had in its tones somewhat familiar to me, called him: 

“Raud, come forth!”

My host started up, and saying, “It is Jarl Ingvar,” went to the door, while I too rose and followed him, for I would not seem to avoid meeting the son of Lodbrok, my friend.

“Where is this stranger?” said the jarl’s voice; “bring him forth.”

Raud turned to beckon me, but I was close to him, and came out of the hut unbidden.

There sat a great man, clad in light chain mail and helmed, with his double-headed axe slung to his saddle bow, but seeming to have come from hunting, for he carried a short, broad-pointed boar spear, and on the wrist of his bridle hand sat a hooded hawk like Lodbrok’s.  His face had in it a look both of his father and of Halfden, but it was hard and stern; and whereas they had brown hair, his was jet black as a raven’s wing.  Maybe he was ten years older than Halfden.

There were five or six other men, seemingly of rank, and on horseback also, behind him, but they wore no armour, and were in hunting gear only, and again there were footmen, leading hounds like the great one that stood by Raud and me.  And two men there were who led between them Beorn, holding him lest he should fall, either from weakness or terror, close to the jarl.

So I stood before Ingvar the Jarl, and wondered how things would go, and what Beorn had said, though I had no fear of him.  And as the jarl gazed at me I raised my hand, saying in the viking’s greeting: 

“Skoal to Jarl Ingvar!”

At that he half raised hand in answer, but checked himself, saying shortly: 

“Who are you, and how come you by my father’s boat?”