held high carnival, and an occasional rabbit went scudding from hillock
to covert. From the south a road ran up and crossed theirs, on its way
to the fiord.

As they reached this cross-road, a horseman passed down it at a gallop.
He only glanced toward them; and all Alwin had time to see was that he
was young and richly dressed. But Helga started up with a cry.

"Sigurd! Tyrker, it was Sigurd!"

Slowly drawing rein, the old man blinked at her in bewilderment.
"Sigurd? Where? What Sigurd?"

"Our Sigurd--Leif's foster-son! Oh, ride after him! Shout!" She
stretched her white throat in calling, but the wind was against her.

"That is now impossible that Jarl Harald's son it should be," Tyrker
said soothingly. "On a Viking voyage he is absent. Besides, out of
breath it puts me fast to ride. Some one else have you mistaken. Three
years it has been since you have seen--"

"Then I will go myself!" She snatched the reins from Alwin, but Tyrker
caught her arm.

"Certain it is that you would be injured. If you insist, the thrall
shall go. He looks as though he would run well."

"But what message?" Alwin began.

Helga tried to stamp in her stirrups. "Will you stand there and talk?