>From their manes the steeds shake
Dew into the deep dales,
Hail upon the high woods."

"It bodes well," said Biorn. "They ride to choose those whom we slay. There
will be high doings ere Yule."

"Not so well," said Leif. "They come from the Norland, and it is our folk
they go to choose. I fear me Hightown will soon be full of widow women."

At last came the day of sailing. The six galleys of war were brought down
from their sheds, and on the rollers for the launching he-goats were bound
so that the keels slid blood-stained into the sea. This was the
'roller-reddening,' a custom bequeathed from their forefathers, though the
old men of the place muttered darkly that the ritual had been departed
from, and that in the great days it was the blood not of goats, but of
captive foemen that had reddened the galleys and the tide.

The thralls sat at the thwarts, for there was no breeze that day in the
narrow firth. Then came the chief warriors in short fur jackets, splendid
in glittering helms and byrnies, and each with his thrall bearing his
battle-axe. Followed the fighting commonalty with axe and spear. Last came
Ironbeard, stern as ever, and Biorn with his heart torn between eagerness
and regret. Only the children, the women, and the old men were left in
Hightown, and they stood on the shingle watching till the last galley had
passed out of sight beyond Siggness, and was swallowed up in the brume that
cloaked the west. There were no tears in that grim leave-taking. Hightown
had faced the like before with a heavy heart, but with dry eyes and a proud
head. Leif, though a cripple, went with the Wickings, for he had great
skill of the sea.