Talbot Mundy

“ A hundred sons and grandsons, men of valor, should comb the earth in rivalry of manhood to deserve the privilege of wearing Tros' sword when, "ripe in years and splendor," he should go at last "to where the gods and all his ancestors make merry amid feasting in Valhalla!" ”

“ Caswallon answered.
And he looked a third time straight into Tros' eyes, while he wiped his mustache with a freckled, blue-veined hand.
"Take a fresh horse. Ride and find Glendwyr. Bid him meet me at the hill-side where the druids wait. Say—there—when the souls of the dead have traveled their appointed path and all the fires die, I will fight him, he and I alone. It will be dawn before the fires die. Say I will fight him for my house and Lunden when dawn rises over the druids' hill." ”

“ He had no facts to hamper him, except the all-important one that Tros had conquered him in single fight and, recognizing a descendant from the gods, had pledged with him faith forever on an oaken poop, "a sea-swept poop, a poop of a proud ship, mistress of the gales, a strong ship, a longship, a ship that Tros, a mighty man in battle, saw and seized—he, single-handed, slaying fifty men!" ”

“ Those eyes of hers missed nothing, except that Tros laughed when her chariot went plunging through the gate, and that it was Orwic, Caswallon's nephew and his right-hand-man, who slammed the gate shut behind her.
"A mare's nest!" said Orwic, rather melancholy. "There will be no eggs in it! I know Glendwyr; bold when it pays to lie low, coward at smiting time! If he had come to fight the Northmen, yes, he might have won a following against Caswallon afterward. ”

“ Stand by for dirty weather, if you smell the wind! If she should scold me, I will take it out on your hide, little man, you little one-eyed, split-lipped, red-haired, freckled, dissolute, ugly, faithful friend o' mine! ”

“ Tros' amber eyes glanced at the sky.
"Northeast wind backing to the north!" he answered; but what he meant by that he did not say, any more than he knew what Orwic's air of information in reserve might mean.
He returned to where Helma waited whispering to Sigurdsen. The Northman looked at Tros with new appraisal in his eyes, and actually smiled at last.
"Can he fight?" Tros asked. "Is he fit for an adventure?"
Sigurdsen nodded and talked back to Helma in a singsong growl that sounded like the sea on jasper beaches, but Tros did not wait for all that outburst to be interpreted ”

“ Unmarried women served the food, receiving it from serfs at the kitchen door.
Tros sat next to Fflur, with Helma on his, right; beyond her, Sigurdsen, his wife and all the Northmen faced curiously aimiable Britons, who seemed to think it a good joke to be eating and drinking on equal terms with men whom they had beaten in battle recently. Conops stood behind Tros, selecting the best dishes as they came and snatching them to set before his master. ”

“ He nodded.
"Careless kings are weak friends," he said darkly. "Caswallon cares nothing about you. Fflur will not endure you. You may go. I will send you to Glendwyr's place. Tell Glendwyr I would have come with you, but I attend my father's obsequies. Say, if he takes Lunden before dawn, I will befriend him with six-and-thirty Northmen."
"Noble Tros," she answered, "I will tell Glendwyr how many men guard Lunden, if you inform me." ”