There were two men only in this room when I returned ready for the
feast. Both stood before the fire, and both were brightly dressed,
and hardly, but for the drowsy hawk which sat unhooded on his hand,
should I have known Lodbrok in the rich dress my father had had
prepared for him. The other was Beorn, the king's falconer, who
went everywhere with his master. These two were speaking together
as they stood before the fire, and I thought that what Beorn said
was not pleasing to the Dane, for he turned away a little, and
answered shortly.

When they saw me both turned, Lodbrok with a smile of welcome, and
Beorn with a loud, rough voice crying to me:

"Ho, Wulfric, here is a strange thing! This gold ring have I
offered to your stranger here for his falcon--which has three wing
feathers missing, moreover--and he will not sell, though I trow
that a man cast ashore must needs want gold more than a bird which
he may not fly save I gain him leave from the king."

"The bird is Wulfric's," said Lodbrok quietly.

"Nay, Jarl," I answered, "I would not take so loving a hawk from
her master, and over all our manors you may surely fly her."

"See you there!" cried Beorn, with a sort of delight, not heeding
my last words, "Wulfric will not have her! Now will you sell?"

Then Lodbrok looked at me with a short glance that I could not but
understand, and said that it would surely grieve him if I would not