"O Hilda! wise woman of the hundred winters, if this is indeed to be thy last----"
"I shall go out with the spring flood," she said, interrupting him, "but thou wilt be upon the sea when they lay me in the cleft between the rocks."
"I will go forth as thou sayest," he responded. "Am I not of the sons of the gods? I will sail as my father sailed and as Oswald has sung. I will crush, like him, the galleys of the Romans. I will look upon the cities of the east and of the south. I am of Odin's line. I will go out in the good ship _The Sword_, and will sail until I see the hero god and the city of the gods and the land of the living sun."
Loud now rang the shouts of approval from the bearded vikings as they sprang to their feet and began to crowd around their young leader.
"Go, O Ulric, son of Odin! Sail on into the sunset and the farther sea!" came trumpetlike from the white lips of Hilda.
Low sounds arose, too, from the strings of the harp, but the door swung suddenly open and upon the threshold stood a man garbed in wolfskins.
"Hael, Ulric the Jarl!" he shouted, and there were many exclamations here and there around the room.
"Hael, Wulf the Skater!" heartily responded Ulric. "What bringest thou?"
"Good tidings!" replied Wulf, joyously, stepping forward. "I came down the mountain slide and across the fiord. No other foot will cross it this season. During days the ice hath weakened and now the wind is changing southerly. There is already a rift in the sky. O son of Brander the Brave, be thou ready for the spring outing!"
"Odin!" shouted Ulric. "Keels for the open sea! Hael to the cruise of _The Sword_! Hael to the bright south! And I, Ulric the Jarl, I of the sons of the gods, I will go out and I will not return until I have looked into the face of one of the gods. And he will know me, and he will take me by the hand, and he will bid me walk with him into the city of the living sun!"
Glad were the hearts of all the vikings as they heard, and with one accord they shouted loudly:
"Hael to Ulric the Jarl! Hael to the cruise of _The Sword_! We are his men and with him we will go!"
Long had been the winter and slow had been the coming of the change for which men waited. Welcome was Wulf the Skater, but Oswald's fingers were slowly busy among the strings of his harp, and they found strange sounds which came out one by one.