"Search him first, and let us see who he is," he said. "We may have
caught the wrong man, after all."

So they came to me and searched my pouch and thrust their grimy
hands into the front of my byrnie, and there they found the king's
letter, which they seized with a shout of delight. Then they took
my arms, wondering at the sword with its wondrous hilt. Only my
ring mail byrnie they could not take from me, as they feared to
untie my arms.

"Not much would I give for your life if this warrior got loose,"
said one of them to that one who had the letter. "See how he glares
at you."

And true enough that was, moreover. I should surely have gone
berserk, like the men Thorgils told me of as we rode yesterday, had
I been able to get free for a moment.

They took my belongings to the leaders, and they asked for some one
who could read the letter, and there was none, even as I had
expected, so that I was glad.

"It does not matter much," the leader said; "doubtless it has a
deal of talk in it which would mean nought to us. We will have it
read the next time one of us goes to the church," and with that he
grinned, and the others laughed as at a good jest. "Let me look at
the sword he wore."

He looked and his eyes grew wide, and then he whistled a little to
himself. The others asked him what was amiss.