He had forgotten Sigurd's presence. In their preoccupation, neither of
them had noticed the young Viking watching them curiously. Now Alwin
started like a colt when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. "It
appears to me," came in Sigurd's voice, "that a man should be merry when
he has just found a friend."

Alwin looked up at him with eyes full of savage despair.

"Merry! Would you be merry, had you found Helga the drudge of an English
camp?" He shook off the other's hand with a fierce motion.

But Sigurd answering instantly, "No, I would look even blacker than you,
if that were possible," the thrall was half appeased.

The young Viking dropped down beside him, and for a while they sat in
silence, staring away where the moonlit river showed between the trees.
At last Sigurd said dreamily: "It came to my mind, while you two were
talking, how unevenly the Fates deal things. It appears, from what the
maiden said, that you are the son of an English jarl who has often
fought the Northmen. Now I am the son of a Norwegian jarl who has not a
few times met the English in battle. It would have been no more unlikely
than what has happened had I been the captive and you the victor."

"That is true," said Alwin slowly. He did not say more, but in some odd
way the idea comforted and softened him. Neither of the young men turned
his eyes from the river toward the other, yet in some way something
friendly crept into their silence.

After a while Sigurd said, still without looking around, "It seems to me
that the right-minded thing for me in this matter is to do what I should