the sunny air, catching it as it fell.

It seemed that the lad was of good station, for his clothing was
of finely woven cloth, and there was a gold neckband to his kirtle,
and his long black hair was well combed and curled. Thrice he threw
up his glittering knife high above his head and deftly caught it
again. But soon, thinking perhaps to excel those who had gone before
him, he took a second knife from his belt, and juggled with them
both with such skill that the shipmen watching him from under the
awning swore by the hammer of Thor that the feat could never be
surpassed.

"Well done, well done!" they shouted. And the boys on the bank
cried out, "Well done, Rekoni!"

At this the youth put fuller strength into his arms and flung the
knives yet higher into the air. But his ambition for the praise of
the warriors was greater than his caution, for, in reaching forward
to catch one of the weapons, he lost his balance and fell headlong
into the deep green water beneath. And as he swam to shore the
vikings laughed aloud, and some who had thought of giving him a
reward put back their gold into their wallets and turned away.

Now, very close to where Sigurd Erikson was there stood two boys,
whose close cropped hair and dress of coarse white vadmal showed
them to be slaves. One of them was a tall, gaunt youth, with pale
thin cheeks and large sad eyes. He was fair of skin, and by this
Sigurd knew that he was not an Esthonian. His companion seemed
about twelve winters old, sturdy and broad backed, with very fair
hair. His neck and bare strong arms were burnt by the sun to a ruddy