Now, I did not think that this pleased the men of the court.  There was a sort of uneasy murmur for a time, and then there was a silence, which grew somewhat awkward at last.  I thought it was time for us to go, for there was nothing else to say, but the bishop came forward.  He had been speaking with Phelim for some time, and now told Myrkiartan how that Hakon was a good Christian man and had saved the hermit brotherhood even now.  That story made the black looks pass at once, and after that it was easy to take our leave and make our way out of the tent; and glad enough I was to be in the open once more.  The whispering of the nobles had not been pleasant at times.

Dalfin came out with us, and he was grave.  There had been words and looks now and then among the group of men with his two brothers which he did not like.

“You had better tell Hakon from me that he had best sail hence as soon as possible.  Maybe as soon as tide will serve.  I will see that you get the men now and at once.  Never wait for the provender unless it comes soon.”

“Come down to the ship with us,” I said.  “Tell Hakon this yourself if you will.”

He shrugged his shoulders at that and glanced round him.

“If it were not for you two I doubt if Hakon would not have been fallen on by this time,” he said.  “There are boats enough, hidden in the village from Heidrek, which can be brought out at any moment.”

He was speaking in the Dansk, but suddenly took to the Erse with some words or other of common farewell, as a tall Irish chief passed with a scowl at us.

“Jealousies through and through this court,” he said quickly, when the man was out of hearing.  “Already some pretend to be wroth with me for having any dealing with Lochlannoch at all.  I am the youngest son, and my father favours me, more’s the pity.”

“Better quit it all, and come and help Hakon to the throne,” I said.

“If it were not for my father,” he answered.

So then and there he bade us farewell, with messages to Gerda and Hakon, and called some of his own men to see us to the ship.  We left him standing in the gate, looking after us somewhat sadly, as we thought.

“Now,” said Bertric, “it seems to me that one may guess why Dalfin went to sea to find adventure.  This court is not a happy home, take it all round.”

Halfway down to the ship we heard some one running after us, and looked round.  It was Father Phelim.

“Take me with you, my sons,” he said, breathless.  “I feared that you would go without me.”

“We had not thought you would care to sail with us again,” I said.

He made no answer beyond a smile, and we went on.  Men stood and stared at us at every turning, axe in hand.  In the lane they wrangled over the spoils they gathered there from the fallen Danes, and fought fiercely with the long helves of their weapons without hurting one another at all by reason of their shock heads.  One who was felled thus would rise and laugh, and the quarrel was at an end.  They were a light-hearted folk to all seeming.