Men were all agog now with tidings likely and unlikely of Styrbiorn’s farings: one saying that he was already come aland beside Mirkwood and had burnt up the whole wood with fire: another that he was gotten into Norway and had slain Earl Hakon there in a pitched battle, and would shortly fare over the Keel into Sweden; another that he was turned away east for Garthrealm with all his ships, and all danger past: another that they were shut up in Jomsburg by the Wends: another that he was dead: another that he and the King were friends again, and that he was even now secretly in the King’s house in Upsala. With all which busy and contrary talk was the whole Thing in an hubbub. Nor was it clear how much men were like to hold by the King and follow him when it should come to fighting, and how much their minds inclined to Styrbiorn. But when the King spake to them of that which he was minded to do for the bettering of the laws and righting of the wrongs of men, according to the wholesome redes of Thorgnyr, then were they that had been eager before to do him service yet the more eager when they heard him say those words, and went all together praising the King and shouting that he should lead them into battle; and they that were of the other party held their peace or changed their minds.
And now the King let proclaim an all-folk hosting.
The fifth night after, King Eric and his men being served and set to the supper, came a man of his with sure tidings from the south that Styrbiorn, with so great an host of warships as had not been seen together till that day by living man, was sailed out of the Limfirth and thence along Skaney-side for Sweden. The King had not yet fully eaten, that there came into the hall a man of his bodyguard to let the King know that hither was come Earl Wolf, Styrbiorn’s foster-father and mother’s brother, ridden up to the King’s garth dirtied up to the horse’s belly, “And would fain have speech with you, Lord, but durst not trust himself unto you but and if you will handsel him peace and safety.”
“There is little need of that,” said the King. “When hath he known me to be sly, quaint and false, were it my very foe in mine hand to do of him as I will? But this is my friend and kinsman. Tell him he shall have peace.”
When Earl Wolf was come into the hall and stood before King Eric, the King said, “Thou rodest not hither to the Thing. A poor man that is true is better than an Earl if he be false.”
“That I am come to you now, King,” answered the Earl, “let that speak for my truth. And never was greater need of good will ’twixt kinsman and kinsman. And ’tis that hath brought me, ’gainst all wise fears and mine own good.”
“Thou look’st afeared,” said the King. “Yet I have known thee for a brave man.”
“I fear not for myself,” answered he, “but for you, King; and for others.”
“Hath Styrbiorn sent thee to me?” asked the King.
“No,” he said. “I’ll walk in no nets, thinking I am hid. He hath not sent me. Yet I think he’ll welcome me with both hands if you will send me to him.”
“Hast had speech of him?”
The Earl said, “Yes.”
“Is he landed?”
“King,” answered the Earl, “he is landed Southway by Mirkwood. Late yester-evening.”
“Alone?” asked the King.
“With an host not to be dealt with in battle,” said the Earl. “There is little time left: you see me ridden hot haste to you: I have killed two horses under me—”
“Why?” said the King. “To lend me aid against him?”
Looking in the King’s countenance that seemed hard and ice-cold, and hearing the accent of his speech, inhospitable and passionless as the voice of the sea grinding on a shingle beach, the Earl winced, as a man might wince under a wintry blast. “I came to you, King,” he said, “to make peace while there is yet time.”
“He hath come aland,” said the King. “Time is gone by, then. I said that if ever he should come again into the Swede-realm, that should be his death.”
“Say not so, King,” said Earl Wolf, and his face was ashen-hued. “Is all your old memories worn so out of mind? Because you are like and like, do not for that sake break one another. You would not hear him, but did send him into this woeful banishment unheard. That which befell on that ill night—”
“Hold,” said the King, breaking in upon him. “Dost thou not know that the man who speaketh of that night in my hearing shall lose nothing but his life? And my peace which I sware unto thee shieldeth thee not as for that.”
The Earl bowed his head. “For your old love sake and kinship, Lord, will you not bend, and it were but one finger’s breadth? For so meseemeth, even so little a thing might set all aright: even if you should but take back the whole kingdom into your own hand, and let him then be heir unto you. Even should you still hold by your great rigour against him, to ban him from the land all your lifedays, yet I think I should persuade his mind, fierce and masterful though he be, to swallow it. Though you should live (and that is
