grave mound in Vendland, It was the most wondrous sword, save only
Olaf's 'Hneitir' yonder, that I have ever seen. Silver and gold was
its hilt, and the blade was wrought in patterns on the steel, and
there were runes in gold close to the hilt. He would call it 'Foe's
Bane', and that in truth was what the sword was."

I knew only too well that that sword became my father's in his
turn, and now it was lost to me.

"My father fell with sword 'Foe's Bane' in his hand," I said sadly.
"Yet I know that the name was not belied ere he did so."

"Then the Danes have it," said Rani, "and it will come back to
you."

I remembered that Ethelred himself had spoken of the sword, and how
I had made his face fall when he heard that it was lost. Nor had I
been long at court before I heard words from one thane or another
that seemed to say that Edric Streone had made light of our defeat,
for some reasons of his own.

"I must win it back," I said.

"If there is aught in old sayings," answered Ottar, "the sword will
draw its holder to face you, unless he won it in fair fight hand to
hand."

Thereat Olaf laughed, and no more was said. But in years to come
there were told strange tales of the longing, as it were, of his
own sword 'Hneitir' to be back at its master's side.