"And who will hinder him?" asked Olaf, looking the while into the
other's brightened eyes.

"He shall be hindered by me," returned Thorgils. "With me alone
must the vengeance rest, for it is not well that you, who stand
so high in honour with the king and his court, should sully your
white hands with blood. It was my father whom Klerkon slew that
day upon the ship, and it is my part to avenge him."

Then Olaf shook his head.

"Not so shall it be," said he. "Thoralf was my own good foster
father, and I am not afraid to face the man who sent him so cruelly
to his death. I and not you shall bring the murderer to his bane."

"Rash that you always are!" cried Thorgils. "Will you never learn
to be cautious? Keep your peace. If I should fail, then will it
be your turn to avenge my death as our vow of foster brotherhood
demands. Now bring me a good weapon, for I have none but an oak
cudgel."

"You shall not want for a good weapon," said Olaf, and he drew a
small sword from under his blue cloak and handed it to Thorgils.
"Here is my new handsax. Take it, and use it to good purpose. But
in the matter of Klerkon, it may be that I shall be before you.
Odin be with you!"



CHAPTER IV: THE SLAYING OF KLERKON.