Now you shall bear it to him, and he
will greet you."
"I am not worthy to wear it," I stammered. "It is too sacred to
you."
"No," she answered. "I ask you to do so, and I think you will not
refuse."
Now I saw in the face of Dalfin that he thought it right that I
should take the mail, and so I did. We went with the three suits
and the helms back to Bertric, and so put them on, Gerda helping
us, and I taking the tiller when it was Bertric's turn. Even in
this little while one could see that Heidrek's leading ship had
gained on us.
It was more than good to be in the mail of a free man and warrior
once more. Dalfin shook himself, as a man will to settle his byrnie
into place, and his eyes shone, and he leapt on the deck, crying:
"Now am I once more a prince of Maghera, and can look a foe--aye,
and death, in the face joyfully. My thanks, dear lady, for this
honour!"
Then he broke into a wild song in his own tongue, and paced the
deck as if eager for the coming of Heidrek, and the promised crash
of the meeting ships. And as suddenly he stopped, and looked at his
hands.
"Faith," he said, "I thought the song went amiss. It is the song of
the swinging swords--and never a sword have I--nor either of us."
Gerda laughed at him.
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