“The swords are in yon chamber,” Gerda said quickly, not being very willing, mayhap, to speak more in this wise.  “I will ask Malcolm, for he is a Norseman, to come and choose them.”

That was the last thing I wished, but would not say so.  Without a word I went forward with her to the penthouse, and took down the three loose timbers again.  The dim chamber seemed very still, and across its dimness the shafts of sunlight—­which came through the chinks in the rough timbering of walls and roofs—­shifted and glanced as if alive, as the ship swayed.  One golden ray lit on the still face of the old king, and it was almost as if he smiled as we stood in the doorway.  Gerda saw it, and spoke softly, stepping to the side of the bier.

“It shall please you to arm these warriors who will seek Valhalla with you, my grandfather.  You were wont to arm the friends who would be ready to fall at your side.”

A wave lifted the ship and swung her, and the shaft of light swayed across the chamber, sparkling on the arms which hung from the timbers.  It lit up the hilt of a gold-runed sword for a moment, and then was gone.

“That is for you, Malcolm the Jarl,” Gerda said.  “Take it.  Then choose for the others.”

Then I unhelmed and stooped and went into the chamber, and took down the sword which the sunbeam had shown me.  It hung from its own baldric with an axe and a round shield.  Gerda bade me take the shield also, and I did so.  Now I could see well enough to choose for the others, for the dimness was but the change from the sunshine outside on deck.  I took a lighter weapon for Dalfin, and a heavy, short sword for Bertric, and with them shields.  No long choice was needed, for not one of the weapons but was of the best.  So I turned, and came forth from the chamber, and gave the weapons to Gerda, while I closed it once more.  I think she bade the king farewell at that time.

“You have my father’s sword also,” she said to me softly.  “I think that if you have but a little time to wear these things which he loved, you will not dishonour them.”

She gave me no time to say more, and I do not know what I could have answered, save that I hoped that I might be worthy.  Little chance of much fighting were we likely to have—­and yet there was just a hope that we might fall in a ring of foes on the deck of the pirate.

Gerda buckled on those weapons for us.  And then Dalfin must end his song, and it was good to see and hear him, if only he and myself understood the words.  But Heidrek crept up to us all the time, if we forgot him for the moment under the spell of the wild song.

The clear voice ceased, for the song was ended.  A dimness crept across the decks, and the sail shivered and filled again.  Bertric looked up at the sky and out to windward, and his face changed.

“What is it?” asked Gerda anxiously.

“Running into a fog bank,” he said.  “Look ahead.”