"Tell us who you are first," said Dalfin; "that is only fair."

"I am Heidrek the Seafarer, and this is Asbiorn, my son. Mayhap you
have heard of us before."

I had done so. One of the men in our group had fled to us from
Banff a year ago, after just such a raid as this. I heard him groan
as the name was spoken.

Heidrek heard also, and laughed shortly.

"It seems that I am known," he said. "Well, make your choice. The
other choice is death, of course. I can leave no one to say that I
am collecting goods from this shore."

"Kill me, then," said Dalfin, while I made no answer.

Two of our men cried that they would join him, and their bonds were
cut by Heidrek's followers. One of them set himself by my side and
spoke to me at once.

"There are worse things than going on the Viking path, Malcolm, son
of my jarl," he said earnestly. "Blame me not."

I turned my head from him. Maybe I was wrong, but it seemed like
treachery. Yet, after all, save myself there was not one left of
our line, and he was deserting no one. Both these two were single
men.

Young Asbiorn heard the man name me, and he came a pace nearer.