Maybe I was wrong, but it seemed like treachery.

Yet, after all, save myself there was not one left of our line, and he was deserting no one.

Both these two were single men.
Young Asbiorn heard the man name me, and he came a pace nearer.
"So you are the son of the chief here," he said quietly.

"What is your name and rank?
Will anyone ransom you ?" "I am the youngest son--I am worth nothing to any man," I said.
"He is Malcolm, the jarl's best-loved son," said that man of ours who had asked my pardon.

"Maybe his mother's folk will ransom him.
His grandfather is Melbrigda, the Scots jarl over yonder." He pointed across the hills where the smoke hung among the heather, and at that old Heidrek laughed, while the men at his heels chuckled evilly.