“ ’Tis wearisome,” said the King, “if this old mummery must be acted anew each year. Imagine my part spoke: so, ’tis done. And now, no more on’t.”
Styrbiorn said, “If, King, you will do me right now. Render up to me my father’s heritage: that share of the lordship of the Swedes which belonged to the King my father. Then I will sit in yonder seat. But not otherwise. Not as your guest, King.”
“Kinsman,” said the King, “thou art, of all folk I ever did know, man or woman, the most thrawart and stubborn of will. I say unto thee, as last year I said and the year before last: when thou shalt be sixteen winters old I will give thee thine inheritance.”
“Waxed is the bairn, but not the breeks,” said Styrbiorn, and his face was red as blood.
“When thou shalt be sixteen winters old,” said the King. “Till then, be quiet. For stubborn-set as thou art, I am as stubborn; and I, not thou, will rule in this matter, as is but just and right.”
“Seldom recovers Kings their dominions,” said Styrbiorn fiercely, “but with hewing of swords.” But when he had spoken those words he looked up at the King his uncle and met his gaze; and there was that in the King’s countenance that stayed his violent mood, as a draught of cool water in the mouth stays the burning of an over-hot mouthful of meat. There was fallen a sudden silence in the hall, for all that men were well feasted and much game and jesting was toward. And Styrbiorn, that had been red with anger, flushed yet darker even to his brow and neck; and he stood shamefaced before the King. He said in a low voice, “Some devil drew the tongue out of my mouth to speak an ill word. And now I will sit at your board, as well it befitteth I should do. But if it please you, King, I will come and talk more hereof tomorrow.”
“Let us give thanks,” said the King, “for a little respite.”
The cup had by then gone many a time about the tables, and men’s bellies were well bulked with ale and their wise discretion and judgement something befogged withal. And as in such a season a man will oft say that which tumbleth quickliest to his tongue, so Aki of the King’s bodyguard (bethinking him not at all that he should as well tickle a wolf under the chin as fret Styrbiorn now) plucked him by the kirtle as he came walking by the lower bench, and asked when he should have amends for the scurvy words Styrbiorn that day had given him.
“Hold thy tongue, King’s thrall,” said Styrbiorn; and, with the word, cast off the cloak from his shoulders and smothered it over Aki’s head. Now Aki had in his hand a great silver-rimmed drinking-horn all full of ale, and it spilt all down the neck of him. He leapt up and cast away the cloak and drave the horn at Styrbiorn’s nose so that the blood gushed out of his nose and he staggered back and well nigh into the fire. Aki ran out, but Styrbiorn overtook him in the doorway and caught him by the collar and jerked him backwards. Young as he was, Styrbiorn had yet the strength of an ordinary man full-grown. He was mad wroth, and he drove the man down under him with fist and knee. Aki had by now pulled out a sax-knife and aimed to smite him withal. Styrbiorn rived it out of his hand and drove it into Aki’s neck and down into the man’s body, clean up to the heft of the knife. Aki needed no other blow but was dead at once.
Now was turmoil in the King’s hall, and much carping and high talk this way and that; for Aki was a man of good kin among the bonders, and many were there who would have done vengeance for him on Styrbiorn without more ado, but that the place and the King’s majesty put them in awe. In the end was all quiet again, and the dead corpse carried out, and men fell again to drinking, yet something less blithely than afore.
The next morning was Styrbiorn up betimes and betook him once more toward his father’s howe. For, albeit he was well agreed with the King his uncle after last night’s doings to sit quiet yet another year and thereafter be received into kingdom, yet him-seemed there should be no place where he should be more at ease when he had naught to do than there on the howe.
There was a spring in his step as he walked. He went not straight to the howe but took a sweep out into the open country, looking this way and that as searching for something. He was come within about a hundred paces from the howe when he espied that whereof he stood in need: a dark and shaggy body, four-legged, sturdy, high-shouldered, tailless, with a marvellous long and hairy coat that trailed well nigh to the big cloven hooves of the beast, and with great curly horns like a ram’s, and hairy face and nose, grazing some way off from him in the rough pastures that went down to Fyriswater. Styrbiorn halted on his way and gave a low call. The thing stopped grazing, lifted head and looked and saw him. It stood still at gaze: he called again. It lifted its nose and gave an answering bellow; then, like a coyly playful girl that will be wooed but must provoke, turned about and walked away from him, casting a look behind every four or
