And she sang him to sleep with crooning songs which had the sweetness of the west wind in them.

But her maids were a rougher stock, and they stuck to the Wicking lullaby which ran something like this: Hush thee, my bold one, a boat will I buy thee, A boat and stout oars and a bright sword beside, A helm of red gold and a thrall to be nigh thee, When fair blows the wind at the next wicking-tide.
There was a second verse, but it was rude stuff, and the Queen had forbidden the maids to sing it.
As he grew older he was allowed to sit with the men in the hall, when bows were being stretched and bowstrings knotted and spear-hafts fitted.
He would sit mum in a corner, listening with both ears to the talk of the old franklins, with their endless grumbles about lost cattle and ill neighbours.

Better he liked the bragging of the young warriors, the Bearsarks, who were the spear-head in all the forays.

At the great feasts of Yule-tide he was soon sent packing, for there were wild scenes when the ale flowed freely, though his father, King Ironbeard, ruled his hall with a strong hand.

From the speech of his elders Biorn made his picture of the world beyond the firths.