Now, how I spent the daylight hours of that imprisonment any Christian man may know, seeing that I looked for naught but death.  And at last, when darkness fell, I heard low voices talking outside for a little while, and I supposed that a watch was set, for the cell door opened to the courtyard from the back of the great house.

Now I thought I would try to sleep, for the darkness was very great, and just as I lay down in a corner the barring of the door was moved, and the door opened gently.

“Do you sleep, Wulfric?” said Halfden’s voice, speaking very low.

“What is it, brother?” I asked in as low a voice, for I had not been a viking for naught.

I saw his form darken the gray square of the doorway, and he came in and swung to the door after him; then his hand sought my shoulder, and I heard a clank of arms on the floor.

“See here, Wulfric,” he said, “you are in evil case; for all Rorik’s men and the men from outside are calling for your death; they say that Rorik had no luck against you because the Asir are angry, and that so it will be with all the host until you have paid penalty.”

“What say you and our crew?”

“Why, we had good luck with you on board, and hold that Rorik had done somewhat which set Thor against him, for he got shipwrecked, and now is killed.  So we know that your ways do not matter to Thor or Odin or any one of the Asir, who love a good fighter.  But we know not why you are so obstinate; still that is your business, not ours.”

“What says Ingvar?” I asked.

“Naught; but he is godar.”

“Aye,” said I.  “So I must die, that is all.  What said Ragnar Lodbrok about that?”

And I spoke to him the brave words that his forefather sang as he died, and which he loved: 

“Whether in weapon play
Under the war cloud,
Full in the face of Death
Fearless he fronts him,
Death is the bane of
The man who is bravest,
He loveth life best who
Furthest from danger lives. 
Sooth is the saying that
Strongest the Norns are. 
Lo! at my life’s end
I laugh—­and I die.”

“Nay, my brother,” said Halfden earnestly; “think of me, and of Osritha, and seem to bow at least.”

That word spoken by my friend was the hardest I ever had to bear, for now I was drawn by the love that had been so newly given me.  And I put my hands before my face and thought, while he went on: 

“If I were asked to give up these gods of ours, who, as it seems to me, pay mighty little heed to us—­and I knew that good exchange was offered me—­well then—­I should—­”

I ended that word for him.

“You would do even as your father, and say that unless for better reason than gain—­aye, however longed for—­you would not.”

“Aye—­maybe I would, after all,” he answered, and was silent.

Then he said, “Guthrum and I spoke just now, and he said that your faith must be worth more than he knew, to set you so fixedly on it.”