Gainsborough, but that the English people begged Ethelred to return
to them, promising that a good force should be ready to meet him on
his landing. Already the London folk had planned a rising there and
in the great towns against the Thingmen, as the Danish paid
garrisons were called, and it was likely that this had by this time
come about.

So at once Eadmund went with these thanes to Rouen, and Olaf would
have me bide with him till word came from the king as to the next
doings.

That was a pleasant time to me, for I grew to love Olaf, and he was
never willing that I should be far from him. Then, too, I heard
many tales of my grandfather Thoralf from Rani, the old viking who
had fought beside him, and had been with Tryggvesson when he was
christened in England. And of all Olaf's men I liked best Ottar the
Black, the scald, who was but five years older than myself, but who
had yet seen much fighting with the king both by land and sea. We
sang much together, for I was willing to learn from him, and he to
teach me.

Now of this singing there is one thing that I will set down, for
the matter comes into my story again.

One day Ottar sang the saga of the sword of Hiorvard; how the
maiden warrior won it from the grave mound of her father, Angantyr,
in spite of terror of the dead hero, and of the unearthly fires.
That was a good saga, and when it was ended old Rani said:

"Thoralf had a sword that was won by his father from a chief's