Then, beside the place, Ludar drove his sword deep into the earth, till the hilt stood up like an iron cross to mark the spot.

We stood in silence while the pure snow fell and laid its white shroud upon the grave.

Then, when all was done, he took my arm, and we walked sadly away.
As we passed down a street not far off, the glow of a tavern fire and the sound of voices within brought us to a halt.

For we were cold and famished and weary, and the good cheer of the place tempted us.

Within was mine host, a merry Irishman, who loved every man that drank his ale.
Round his great fire sat half-a-dozen guests, two wayfarers like ourselves, a soldier, a merchant, a sailor, and one who seemed by his look a private gentleman.
They gave us little enough heed as we entered.