A murmur of delight ran through the crowd.  That this splendid personage should have come to do homage to their hero, was the final dramatic touch which their imaginations craved.  It was with difficulty that they repressed a cheer.

But the guardsman looked puzzled to the point of incredulity.

“Heard the tidings as far as Normandy?” he repeated.  “A matter of so little importance to anyone?  How is that likely?” Straightening in his saddle, he looked at the Norman for a moment with eyes that were more keen than courteous.

“He would be liable to disaster who should try to put a trick upon Leif Ericsson,” the thrall-born whispered.

Robert Sans-Peur was in no wise disconcerted.  Meeting the keen eyes, he answered in plain if halting Norse:  “The renowned chief has forgotten that early this season a trading-ship went from here to Trondhjem.  Not a few of her shipmates went further than Nidaros.  One of them, who was called Gudbrand-wi’-the-Scar, travelled even so far as Rouen, where it was my good fortune to encounter him.”

“It is true that I had forgotten that,” the chief said, slowly.  He lowered his gaze to his horse’s ears and sat for a while lost in thought.  Then once more he extended his hand to the Southerner.

“It appears to me that you are a man of energy and resource,” he said, with a return of his former cordiality.  “Since wind and wave have not hindered you from your desire, it would be unheard-of churlishness for me to refuse you.  Get now into my saddle and allow your friend to conduct you to the hall.  It is necessary that I oversee the storing of these wares, but after the night-meal we will speak further of the matter.”  To forestall any further attempts at hand-kissing, he sprang from his horse and strode over to the trader.

With an air of grave ceremony that was swallowed open-mouthed by the onlookers, Sigurd held his friend’s stirrup; then, quickly remounting his own steed, the pair rode off.

This time the mob would not be restrained, but burst into a roar of delight.

“Here at last is a great happening that we have seen with our own eyes!” they told each other, as they settled down at a safe distance to watch Leif and the merchant turning over the bales of goods which the sailors were engaged in bringing to shore.  “This will be something to relate in time to come,—­a great event concerning which we understand everything.”

“‘Concerning which we understand everything!’” Sigurd, overhearing them, repeated laughingly to his friend as they galloped up the lane.

Robert the Fearless laughed too, with a vibration of uneasiness in the peal.

“Few there are who are capable of making that boast,” he answered.  “Even you, comrade, are unequal to it.  Here now is something that is worth a hearing.”  Leaning from his saddle, he poured into Sigurd’s ear a stream of low-toned words that caused the Silver-Tongued to stop short and stare at him incredulously, and then look back at the anchored ship and pound his knee in a fury of exasperation.