"Thorgils the axeman, men call me, by reason, of some skill with
that weapon which your folk seem to hold in no repute, which is a
pity. Shipmaster am I by trade, and I am here to seek for cargo,
that I may make one more voyage this winter with the more profit,
having to cross to Dyfed, beyond the narrow sea, though it is late
in the year."

"I thought you might be a Dane from Tenby."

"The Welsh folk know the difference between us by this time,"
Thorgils said, with a little laugh. "They call them 'black heathen'
and us 'white heathen,' though I don't know that they love us
better than they do them. By grace of Gerent the king, to be
politic, or by grace of axe play, to speak the truth, we have a
little port of our own here on this side the water, at the end of
the Quantocks, where we seek to bide peaceably with all men as
traders."

"Ay! I have heard of your town," said Ina. "Now, can tell us how
Morgan and his brother came to be in company with outlaws?"

"He fell out with Gerent over us, to begin with. I went with our
chiefs to Exeter when we first came seeking a home, to promise
tribute if we were left in peace in the place we had chosen. Gerent
was willing enough, but Morgan, who claims some sort of right over
the Devon end of the kingdom, was against our biding at all, and
there were words. However, Gerent and we had our way, and so we
thought to hear no more of the matter. But the next thing was that
Morgan gathered a force and tried to turn us out on his own
account, and had the worst of the affair. That angered Gerent, for