My father grasped the offered hand frankly, and, smiling a little,
said:

"Rather should you thank Wulfric, my son, here; for it was his line
that reached you."

"No fault that of yours," answered the Dane; and he turned to me
with the same hearty greeting.

"Now, friend Wulfric, I owe you my life, and therefore from this
time forward my life is for yours, if need be. Nor shall my men be
behind in that matter--that is if I ever see them again," he added,
looking quaintly at me, if gravely.

"Surely you shall do so," I said, "if it is in our power."

"I thank you--and it is well. I know coasts where a stranger would
be a slave from the moment his foot touched shore. Now tell me
whose ship this is that has given me shelter, and what your
father's name is, that I may thank you rightly."

"Elfric, the Thane of Reedham, is my father," I said, "Sheriff of
the East Anglian shore of the North Folk, under Eadmund, our king.
And this is his ship, and this himself to whom you have spoken."

"Then, Thane and Thane's son, I, whose life you have saved, am
Lodbrok, Jarl {ii} of a strip of Jutland coast. And now I have a
fear on me that I shall do dishonour to the name of Dane, for I
faint for want of food and can stand no more."