“Father,” answered the brave voice of Erik, “the day will yet be ours.”
“But see, my son, our ships fall back! Our men are dying and flying!” He pointed to the long line of swimmers, who had jumped over the sides of his vessels.
“Nay! nay!” the young earl replied, “let the cravens go.”
The beautiful boy Erling, fair-haired, fair-browed, and blue-eyed, came up beside his father. Earl Haakon gazed down at the boy. “Thou art too young for the fight—but not too young— Come, Erling! Come with me! The gods are angry! They have turned their faces from us and are calling for a sacrifice. They are asking for a rich sacrifice, before they will give us victory. Come, Erling! Come with me!”
“What wouldst thou do, my father?” Earl Erik asked, seeing the wild light in the old man’s eyes.
“Nothing, my son, but strive to appease the gods, the great, strong gods, who love strong men and are scornful of the weak.”
A movement of Vagn’s ship caused Erik to look closer after the battle, and as he turned away, Earl Haakon, taking Erling’s hand, sprang with the boy into a small boat and rowed swiftly for the shore. As they passed beyond the rain of spears and arrows, the little lad turned and laid his head upon his father’s breast. “I am weary and I would sleep.”
Earl Haakon pushed the golden curls away. “And
