His great form was as square and strong as ever, and his grizzled brown beard was as bushy and well cared for as when I used to see him and speak with him before the flight into Normandy.
And he still had the same pleasant voice and ways, even to the little chuckle--as to himself--when he spoke, and the way he had of gazing on the rafters rather than at the man to whom he was talking.
"So, Redwald, my friend," he laughed, "you have turned viking as it seems! How have you fared in East Anglia with Olaf the Thick ?" "Well enough, lord earl," I said, "but there is work to be done there yet." "Aha! those thingmen are no babes," he said.

"Where is your earl now ?" "At Thetford, as they say." "Well, what is this tale that you bring about Cnut ?" I told him, and he laughed in his way.
"Cnut is but a boy.

No such great following would gather to him," he said.

"It is not possible." "Eirik and Ulf and Thorkel the jarls may gather them for Cnut," I answered.

"And he is Swein's son." "Those men are Cnut as yet, as one may say," answered Edric chuckling.