"That is a fair offer," said Hodulf, quite unmoved, to all seeming, but
looking at me in a way that told me how his anger was held back by main
force, as it were; "but how am I to know that this one who sends so bold
a message is the real Havelok? I am not a fool that I should give up my
throne to the first who asks it. Doubtless you bring some token that you
come from the very son of Gunnar."

"It is right that you should ask one, and also that you should have one
that there can be no mistaking," I said. "This is it. By the token of
the sack and the anchor I bid you know that Havelok sends me to you."

At that the face of Hodulf became ashy grey beneath the tan of wind and
sea, and I saw that his hand clutched the hilt of his sword so that the
knuckles of his fingers grew white. He had never thought to hear of that
deed again, and he knew that he had to deal with the one whom he had
thought dead. Some of the young chiefs in the hall laughed at that
token, but he flashed a glance at them which stayed the laugh on their lips.

"I know not what you mean," he said, altogether staggered.

"It is right," I said, "that if the token is not plain I should make it
so. It is but fair also to the chiefs who are here."

Then he stayed me. True it is that old sin makes new shame.

"I will take it as enough," he said hastily. "I mind some old saying of
the kind. Ay, that is it--a hidden king and a voyage across the sea.
It is enough."

"Not enough," said a chief in the hall close to the high seat. "Let this