There were seven in all in the chest, and we set two
aside. Dalfin was tall and slight, and very active, and Bertric was
square and sturdy, and maybe half a head shorter than either of us.
But after the way of my forebears, both Norse and Scottish, I was
somewhat bigger than most men whom I have met, though not so much
in height as in breadth of shoulder. Maybe, however, I was taller
than Dalfin, for I think he was not over six feet.
So it happened that as Dalfin, in all light-heartedness, as if no
enemy was nearer than Ireland, took up suit after suit of the
bright ring mail and stretched them across my shoulders, trying to
fit me, not one of these would do by any means. Gerda stood by us,
watching quietly.
"It does not matter," I said at last. "Let me have a weapon, and I
shall not be the first of us who has fallen unmailed."
"No," said Gerda, "it is my fancy that my champions shall be well
armed. Open the small chest yonder."
I did so, and in that lay a most beautiful byrnie and helm, if
anything better than those we had been choosing from. It was the
only suit here, and Gerda looked wistfully at it.
"Take that one, Malcolm," she said. "It will fit you. It was one of
my father's--and I had a fancy that Thorwald would take it to him
in Asgard, for he lies on the Swedish shore, and it might not be
laid in the mound with him.
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