us.

'A well-grown lad and a brave one, Wulf the son of Ovida,' said the
giant to the old hero of the bearskin cloak; 'and understands
wearing skins, in this furnace-mouth of a climate, rather better
than you do.'

'I keep to the dress of my forefathers, Amalric the Amal. What did
to sack Rome in, may do to find Asgard in.'

The giant, who was decked out with helmet, cuirass, and senatorial
boots, in a sort of mongrel mixture of the Roman military and civil
dress, his neck wreathed with a dozen gold chains, and every finger
sparkling with jewels, turned away with an impatient sneer.

'Asgard--Asgard! If you are in such a hurry to get to Asgard up
this ditch in the sand, you had better ask the fellow how far it is
thither.'

Wulf took him quietly at his word, and addressed a question to the
young monk, which he could only answer by a shake of the head.

'Ask him in Greek, man.'

'Greek is a slave's tongue. Make a slave talk to him in it, not
me.'

'Here--some of you girls! Pelagia! you understand this fellow's
talk. Ask him how far it is to Asgard.'