The trader's patience was a little chafed. Peaceful merchants were also
men of war between times in those days.

Suddenly he unsheathed the sword that hung at his side, and laid its
point against the thrall's breast.

"I ask you again of what kin you come. If you do not answer now, it is
unlikely that you will be alive to answer a third question."

Perhaps young Alwin's bronzed cheeks lost a little of their color, but
his lip curled scornfully. So they stood, minute after minute, the sharp
point pricking through the cloth until the boy felt it against his skin.

Gradually the trader's face relaxed into a grim smile. "You are a young
wolf," he said at last, sheathing his weapon; "yet go and sit with the
others. It may be that wolves thrive better than lambs in the North."



CHAPTER II

THE MAID IN THE SILVER HELMET


In a maiden's words
No one should place faith,
Nor in what a woman says;
For on a turning wheel
Have their hearts been formed,