Alwin considered it his duty to frown at this; but it must be confessed
that something very similar was in his own thoughts as he followed his
lord into Thorkel Farserk's feasting-hall that night. Whatever his
religion, the guardsman's rank and his gallant appearance and fine
manners compelled admiration and respect. It could not but seem a pity
to his admirers that soon, with one word, he would he forced to undo it
all.

"It is harder than the martyrdom of the saints," Alwin murmured
bitterly. Then his eye fell upon the silver crucifix, shining pure and
bright on Leif's breast, and he realized the unworthiness of his
thoughts, and resigned himself with a sigh.

But he found that even yet Leif's purposes were beyond him. Never, by so
much as a word, did the guardsman refer to the subject of the new
religion,--though again and again his skilful tongue won for him the
attention of all at the table. He spoke of battles and of feasts, and of
the grandeur of the Northmen. With the old men he discussed Norwegian
politics; with the young ones he talked of the famous champions of King
Olaf's guard. To the women who wished to know concerning the King's
house, and the Queen, he answered with the utmost patience. He described
everything, from weddings to burials, with the skill of a minstrel and
the weight of an authority, and always with the tact of a courtier.

Gradually whispers of praise circled around the board, whispers that
fell like sweetest music on the jealous ears of Leif's followers.
Thorhild leaned back from her food and watched him with open pride,--and
though Eric kept his face still turned away, he set his ear forward so
that he should hear everything.