Johnston McCulley

“ Far away on the headland, a tall and slender thrall stood to his feet as the mist rose out of the sea, shaded his eyes with his hands, and looked long at the ship in the offing. Then he buckled his leather belt tighter, made certain that his sandals were secure, turned, inhaled a deep breath—and ran. ”

“ Eric the Dumb uttered a little cry of pain that could not have been heard more than a dozen feet away. He bent over the quivering body of the thrall and made a swift examination. Then he turned his head toward the doorway, and a flash of hate came from his eyes. The dying thrall had been his best friend, and Eric the Dumb would not forget! ”

“ Svend the Bloody had sent his thrall to the headland to watch for the day and carry true news. Now, in the great hall of the house, Svend sat with his back against the thick wall, eating his morning meat. Cringing thralls served him. Magnus, his chief lieutenant, sat at his elbow and imitated him. There was no talk, no sound save of men eating with no regard for table manners. ”