Being still weak from my great illness, I was seated in the sun in the shelter of the house, wrapped up in a cloak of deerskins--for the northern wind blew bitter.

By me stood my father, who was in a happy mood now he knew that I should live and be strong again.
"Steinar should be back by now," I said to him.

"I trust that he has come by no ill." "Oh no," answered my father carelessly.

"For seven days the wind has been high, and doubtless Athalbrand fears to let him sail from Lesso." "Or perhaps Steinar finds Athalbrand's hall a pleasant place to bide in," suggested Ragnar, who had joined us, a spear in his hand, for he had come in from hunting.

"There are good drink and bright eyes there." I was about to answer sharply, since Ragnar stung me with his bitter talk of Steinar, of whom I knew him to be somewhat jealous, because he thought I loved my foster-brother more than I did him, my brother.