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There is Tyrker under that ash tree. And there, do you remember that black mane? Yonder, bending over that shield? That is Egil Olafsson. Now it comes to my mind again! To-night we go to a feast at the King's house; that is why he is so busy. And yonder! Yonder is Rolf wrestling. He is the strongest man in Greenland; did you know that? Even Valbrand cannot stand against him.
And for you, my Thorhild, and the haughty-headed Helga! And gray old Tyrker too! Listen now, Graybeard, and learn, even with one foot in the grave. Saw you never such a game as this foster-son of yours has played with unchanging face!"
Tyrker stroked his beard, with an-other sidelong glance at his foster-son, as he said, cautiously: "So? Aber, how have you managed it from him to escape?" "Little was there to manage. As I told you, he loaded me with precious things; after which he left me to sit at home with his weak-minded wife, while he went on a trading voyage, as was his wont.
All day long Alwin was hurried back and forth with messages, and tools, and coils of rope. The last trip he made, Sigurd Haraldsson walked with him across the bridge and along the city-bank of the river. The young Viking had spent the day riding around the country with Tyrker, getting prices on a ship-load of corn. Corn, it seemed, was worth its weight in gold in Greenland.
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? Go!" They were fast runners in those days, by all accounts.
Twelve brawny Vikings with twelve short swords at their sides and twelve long knives in their belts, they stood forth, headed by Valbrand of the Flint-Face and by Tyrker! The little German had left off the longest of his fur tunics; a very long knife indeed garnished his waist, and he used a spear for a staff. Yet none of these preparations made him appear very formidable.
When he saw the chief's scarlet mantle mingling with the scarlet of the sumach leaves, the jarl's son gave a great leap forward. It was no longer than the drawing of a breath, however, before he recovered himself. His clear voice rose like a bugle call, "Diable! foster-father! I have just made a very different discovery from the one I promised you, Tyrker has been left behind."
It is not easy for me to answer your questions, for this morning is the first time I have seen the maiden; but she is awaiting you at the cross-roads with the old man she calls Tyrker, and " "Tyrker!" cried Sigurd Haraldsson. "Leif's foster-father had that name. It is not possible that it is my little foster-sister from Greenland!"
Tyrker poked his head out to say "So?" then snuggled back into his wraps again, to chuckle contentedly. He was so wound up in furs that he looked like a sharp little needle in a fuzzy haystack. Leif's smile gave way to a frown. "Another man came to me also, on a different errand, Ragner Thorkelsson, it may be that you saw him? He wished to make a bargain concerning Helga."
Tyrker, take the girl below and see to it that she is cared for." While the culprits stared at him, scarcely daring to credit their ears, he still further signified that the incident was closed, by turning his back upon them and inviting Robert Sans-Peur to take the German's place at the chess-board. In a daze of bewilderment, Sigurd let Rolf lead him away.
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