The vikings, who had anticipated no preliminaries to the massacre they
awaited, did not hesitate to accept these overtures. Twelve of the
most famous chiefs still surviving, and Olave himself, entered the
boat; and, standing between his brothers, Leofwine and Gurth, Harold
thus accosted them:

"Your King invaded a people that had given him no offence; he has paid
the forfeit--we war not with the dead! Give to his remains the
honours due to the brave. Without ransom or condition, we yield to
you what can no longer harm us. And for thee, young Prince,"
continued the King, with a tone of pity in his voice, as he
contemplated the stately boyhood, and proud, but deep grief in the
face of Olave; "for thee, wilt thou not live to learn that the wars of
Odin are treason to the Faith of the Cross? We have conquered--we
dare not butcher. Take such ships as ye need for those that survive.
Three-and-twenty I offer for your transport. Return to your native
shores, and guard them as we have guarded ours. Are ye contented?"
Amongst those chiefs was a stern priest--the Bishop of the Orcades--he
advanced and bent his knee to the King.

"O Lord of England," said he, "yesterday thou didst conquer the form--
to-day, the soul. And never more may generous Norsemen invade the
coast of him who honours the dead and spares the living."

"Amen!" cried the chiefs, and they all knelt to Harold. The young
Prince stood a moment irresolute, for his dead father was on the bier
before him, and revenge was yet a virtue in the heart of a sea-king.
But lifting his eyes to Harold's, the mild and gentle majesty of the
Saxon's brow was irresistible in its benign command; and stretching
his right hand to the King, he raised on high the other, and said