Now all our crew were listening to us, and I looked down the long gangways by chance, and when I did so no man would meet my eye.  They feared lest they should be made to go to this haunted place, as it seemed—­all but one man, who sat on the mast step swinging his feet.  This was Kolgrim the Tall, the captain of the fore deck, a young man and of few words, but a terrible swordsman, and knowing much of sea craft.  And when this man saw that I looked at him, he nodded a little and smiled, for he had been a friend of mine since I had first come to Einar.

“Two men to row the boat will be enough, jarl,” I said.  “Kolgrim yonder will come with us.”

“Well,” the jarl answered, “maybe four of us are enough.  We shall not fright Sigurd with more, and maybe would find it hard to get them to come.”

So he called Kolgrim, and he said that he would go with us, and went to get the boat alongside without more words.

Then the jarl and I and Thord armed ourselves—­for a warrior should be met by warriors.  The men were very silent, whispering among themselves, until the jarl was ready and spoke to them.

“Have no fear for us,” he said.  “Doubtless my brother needs somewhat, and calls me.  I am going to find out what it is and return.”

So we pushed off, Thord and Kolgrim rowing.  It was strange to look back, as we went, on the ships, for not a soul stirred on board them, as it seemed, so intently were we watched; and the water was like a sheet of steel under them, so that they were doubled.

Presently they were hidden as we rounded a turn in the firth, and we were alone among the hills, and the lonesomeness was very great.  There was no dwelling anywhere along the shores, nor in the deep glens that came down to them, each with its noisy burn falling along it.  Once I saw deer feeding far up at the head of a valley that opened out, but they and the eagles were the only living things we could see beside the loons that swam and dived silently as we neared them.

The silence and the heat weighed on us, and we went for a mile or more without a word.  Then we turned into the last reach of the water, and saw Sigurd’s mound beside its edge at the very head of the firth, where the hills came round in a circle that was broken only by the narrow waters and the valley that went beyond them among the mountains.  It was a fitting resting place for one who would sleep in loneliness; but I thought that I had rather lie where I could look out on the sea I loved, and see the long ships pass and the white waves break beneath me.

Now all seemed very peaceful here in the hot haze that brooded over the still mountains, and there seemed to be nought to fear.  We drew swiftly up to the mound, with the plash of oars only to break the silence, and there was nought amiss that we could see.  They had made it on a little flat tongue of land that jutted from the mountain’s foot into the deep water, so that on two sides the mound was close to its edge.  So we pulled on softly round the tongue of land, being maybe about fifty paces from the mound across the water.  And when we saw the other side of Sigurd’s resting place, the oars stayed suddenly, and the jarl, who held the tiller, swung the boat away from the shore, and I think I knew then what fear was.