That, too, was the thought of the seamen to whom I spoke when the ships were yet distant, and so we went back to the hall heavy and disappointed.  We would not speak to these men, knowing that from Thorkel’s folk we should but hear boasting of Swein’s victories.

But presently the steward came into the hall, where we sat silently listening to the shouts of the men as they berthed the ships, and he said that the leader of the vikings would see and speak with Eadmund himself.

“Is he Thorkel, or Thorkel’s man?” answered the atheling, “for if he be, I will not see him.”

“No, lord,” said the steward, “he is one who has no dealings with the Danes.  He will not tell me his name, but I think that he is a great man of some kind.”

“Not a great man, but thick,” said a kindly voice of one who stood without.  “If hatred of Danes will pass me into Eadmund’s presence, I may surely enter.”

And then there came into the doorway a man who was worth more than a second look.  Never had I seen one to whom the name of king seemed to belong so well by right as to this man, whatever his rank might be.  He stood and looked round for a moment, as if the dim light from the high windows was not enough to show him where we were at first, and I could not take my eyes from him.

He was not tall, but very square of shoulder and deep of chest, with mighty arms that were bare, save for their heavy gold bracelets, below the sleeves of his ring mail, and his hair and beard were golden red and very long.  He wore a silvered helm, whereon was inlaid a golden cross above a narrow gold circlet that was round its rim, and his hand rested on the hilt of such a priceless sword as is told of in the old tales of the heroes.  But I forgot all these things as I looked into his pleasant weatherbeaten face, and saw the kindly look in the gray eyes that I knew would flash most terribly in fight.  He was twenty-five years old, as I thought; but therein I was wrong, for he was just my own age, though looking so much older.

“I am Olaf Haraldsson—­Olaf Digri, the Thick, as men call me,” he said.  “Some call me king, though I rule but over a few ships, as a sea king.  Which of you thanes is Eadmund the Atheling?”

Then Eadmund rose up from his place, and went towards the king.  His seat had been in shadow, else there had been no need to ask which was he.

“I have heard of you, King Olaf,” he said, “for your deeds are sung in our land already.  And you are most welcome.  Have you news from England?”

So those two grasped each other’s hands, and I think there were no two other such men living at that time.  It was good to see them together.

“Aye,” said the king, “I have been in England, and therefore I have come to find you.  Swein is dead, and your chance has come.  Let me help you to win your land again.”

That was plain speaking, and for the moment Eadmund held his breath, and could not speak for sheer surprise and gladness.  But I could not forbear leaping up and shouting, tossing my helm in the air as I did so, so wondrous was all this to me, and so full of hope.