With us came Phelim and my Caithness men, and Gorm the Steward, and a dozen of the others of the place.

It was a still, frosty night, and overhead wavered and flickered across the stars the red and golden shafts and waves of the northern lights, very brightly, so that all the sky seemed to burn with them, and it was well nigh as light as day with their weird brightness.

Under them the still fjord glowed in answer, silent and peaceful, as the fires burned up and faded.
We went to the stockade gate, and down the little street to the wharf.

Only a few men were about, but they were not armed, and the houses were dark now.

There was no sign of unrest in all the place, as there well might have been had things gone awry for us.
"Have a care, Asbiorn," said Bertric.