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