not see in thy earthly life. Now will I bless thee again; and when thy vow is fulfilled, thou canst come to me.”
The tall pilgrim knelt to receive the blessing, then rose, and with bowed head but with a brighter countenance left the audience chamber.
Many months had Thorgills travelled to find King Olaf. At last he reached the city of Rome. Here his inquiries revived the memory of the stately pilgrim who had held long converse with Pope Sylvester, and had been embraced by him as a Christian king. Then the pilgrim had left for the Holy Land. None could tell his name, but he was tall and blond, and bore himself with great majesty. He was bound by a vow to visit the Holy Sepulchre, and had promised the Pope to return and join the Christian princes when they should march to rescue the Holy Tomb of Christ from the Moslems. Armed with this much help in finding his master, Thorgills journeyed on. He crossed the Mediterranean, and at his questions the sailors remembered a passenger they had carried some weeks before, a strong, silent Norseman, who had walked like a king, and would give no name save that of a humble pilgrim to the Holy Land.
Thorgills landed at Smyrna and journeyed down through the land of the Turk to Palestine. Weary and disheartened, he reached Jerusalem and knelt
