He glanced back at the ships, and answered her, after a moment’s thought.

“Two hours—­or maybe three, if the men who row tire—­that is if the wind holds.  If it freshens, we may beat them yet.”

“I hear that you doubt that last,” she said.  “Now, is it still in your minds to die rather than fall into the hands of yon men?”

“Lady,” said I, “we three would have no care for ourselves.  We have to think of you.”

“I will die, sooner,” she answered, with set lips.

“Then,” said Bertric simply, “it shall be as I have said.  We will ram the pirate ship and sink with her.”

Then Gerda rose up and looked at the three of us, and her face grew bright.

“Now I have one thing to ask you,” she said, “and that is to let me arm you once more.  It is not fitting that you three should fall and pass to Asgard all unlike warriors—­in that thrall-like gear.

“Come with me, Malcolm, and bring what I shall find for you.”

I followed her until she stayed at the entrance to the penthouse, and I half feared that she would bid me open and enter it.  In truth, we had almost forgotten what lay there, but now I could not but remember, and the old dread came back to me.  But she did not do so.  She pointed to one of the great chests which had been stowed between the boats, and bade me open it.  I had to tug at it to bring it forward, for it was heavy, and then threw the lid back.

It was full of mail, and with the close-knit ring shirts were helms, and some few short, heavy swords.

“War spoils of the old days before Harald Fairhair,” she said.  “When my grandfather had many foes, and knew how to guard himself.  All these would have been rent and spoiled before they were laid in the ship mound—­but at the last there was not time—­thus.”

Now she called to Dalfin, and he came eagerly, with a cry of delight on seeing the war gear.

“Lift them, and choose what you will for yourselves and Bertric,” she said.  “It will be strange if, among all, you do not find what will suit you.”

Now there was no difficulty in finding suits of the best for the other two.  There were seven in all in the chest, and we set two aside.  Dalfin was tall and slight, and very active, and Bertric was square and sturdy, and maybe half a head shorter than either of us.  But after the way of my forebears, both Norse and Scottish, I was somewhat bigger than most men whom I have met, though not so much in height as in breadth of shoulder.  Maybe, however, I was taller than Dalfin, for I think he was not over six feet.

So it happened that as Dalfin, in all light-heartedness, as if no enemy was nearer than Ireland, took up suit after suit of the bright ring mail and stretched them across my shoulders, trying to fit me, not one of these would do by any means.  Gerda stood by us, watching quietly.

“It does not matter,” I said at last.  “Let me have a weapon, and I shall not be the first of us who has fallen unmailed.”