merchant and buy from him my foster brother Thorgils."

Sigurd leapt from his horse and at once unfastened the chain from
Olaf's neck, and even helped him to draw off his kirtle and woollen
sark. And when Olaf stood before him naked, Sigurd drew back amazed
at the pure fairness of his skin, the firmness of his well knitted
muscles, and the perfect beauty of his form.

In the stream near which they had halted there was a deep, clear
pool of water, with a high cascade tumbling into it in creamy foam.
Olaf ran lightly over the mossy boulders and plunged into the pool,
as though he knew it well. Sigurd watched him rolling and splashing
there in childish delight. Sometimes the boy seemed lost in the
brown depths of the water, but soon his white body would be seen
gliding smoothly along under the surface, and then emerging amid
the spray of the waterfall, where the shafts of sunlight made
a rainbow arc. And at last Olaf came out and ran swiftly backward
and forward on the grassy level until he was dry. Then returning
to his new master he took up his woollen sark. But his kirtle was
gone.

Sigurd said: "I have thrown it away, for it is not well that a
king's son should wear a garment that is sullied by the marks of
slavery."

He took off from his own shoulders a riding cloak of scarlet cloth
and added, "Take this cloak and wear it. And when we reach the town
I will buy you more fitting clothes, with sandals for your feet,
and a cap to shield your head from the sun."