out, and Halfden came striding along it, looking bright and
handsome--and halfway over, he stopped where none could throng him,
and lifting his hand for silence cried for all to hear.

"Hearken all to good news! Lodbrok our Jarl lives!"

Then, alas! instead of the great cheer that should have broken from
the lips of all that throng, was at first a silence, and then a
groan--low and pitiful as of a mourning people who wail for the
dead and the sorrowful living--and at that sound Halfden paled, and
stayed no more, hurrying ashore and to where his brothers stood.

"What is this?" he said, and his voice was low, and yet clear in
the silence that had fallen, for all his men behind him had stopped
as if turned to stone where they stood.

Then from my side sprang Osritha before any could answer, meeting
him first of all, and she threw her arms round his neck, saying:

"Dead is Lodbrok our father, and nigh to death for his sake has
been Wulfric, your friend. Yet he at least is well, and here to
speak with you and tell you all."

Then for the great and terrible sorrow that came at the end of the
joyous homeward sailing, down on the hard sand Halfden the Jarl
threw himself, and there lay weeping as these wild Danes can weep,
for their sorrow is as terrible as their rage, and they will put no
bounds to the way of grief of which there is no need for shame. Nor
have they the hope that bids us sorrow not as they.