"Plague on the kite!" he said; "surely she is bewitched! And if her
master is, as they say, a wizard, that is likely--"

"Enough, Master Falconer," I said, growing angry. "Lodbrok is our
guest, and this, moreover, is the court for the time. Why, the bird
is drowsy, and has been with me already. There is no wonder in the
matter, surely?"

But Beorn scowled, and one might see that his pride of falconry was
hurt. Maybe he would have answered again, but I spoke to Lodbrok,
asking him what the falcon was, as she was like none of ours, for
this was a thing I knew Beorn would be glad to know, while his
pride would not let him ask.

And Lodbrok answered that she was an Iceland gerfalcon from the far
northern ocean, and went on to tell us of her powers of flight, and
at what game she was best, and how she would take her quarry, and
the like. And Beorn sat down and feigned to pay no heed to us.

Presently the Dane said that he had known gerfalcons to fly from
Iceland to Norway in a day, and at that Beorn laughed as in scorn.

"Who shouted from Norway to Iceland to say that a lost hawk had
come over?" he said.

The Dane laughed a little also, as at a jest; though one could tell
that Beorn rather meant insult.

"Why," he answered, "the bird got loose from her master's ship as