I saw by their faces that all the other earls, nobles, and warriors were happy as Buliwyf himself. I asked Herger why this was so.

“Buliwyf is our chief, and we are happy for him, and for the power that he will soon have.” I inquired what was this power of which he spoke. “The power of Runding,” Herger answered me. “What power is that?” I inquired, to which he made this reply: “The power of the ancients, the power of the giants.”

The Northmen believe that in ages past the world was populated by a race of giant men, who have since vanished. The Northmen do not count themselves the descendants of these giants, but they have received some of the powers of these ancient giants, in such ways as I do not understand well. These heathens also believe in many gods, who are also themselves giants, and who also have power. But the giants of which Herger spoke were giant men, and not gods, or so it seemed to me.

That night we breached upon a rocky shore, made of stones the size of a man’s fist, and there Buliwyf encamped with his men, and long into the night they drank and sang around the fire. Herger joined in the celebration and had no patience to explain to me the meanings of the songs, and so I do not know what they sang, but they were happy. On the morrow they would come to the home of Buliwyf, the land called Yatlam.

We left before the first fight of dawn, and it was so cold my bones ached, and my body was sore from the rocky beach, and we set out upon the raging sea and the blasting wind. For all the morning we sailed, and during this period the excitement of the men increased further until they became like children or women. It was a wonder to me to see these huge strong warriors giggle and laugh like the Caliph’s harem, and yet they saw nothing unmanly in this.

There was a point of land, a high rocky outcrop of gray stone above the gray sea, and beyond this point, Herger told me, would be the town of Yatlam. I strained to see this fabled home of Buliwyf as the Northmen’s vessel came around the cliff. The warriors laughed and cheered more loudly, and I gathered there were many rude jokes and plans for sport with women when they landed.

And then there was the smell of smoke on the sea, and we saw smoke, and all the men fell silent. As we came around the point, I saw with my own eyes that the town there was in smoldering flames and billowing black smoke. There was no sign of life.

Buliwyf and his warriors landed and walked the town of Yatlam. There were dead bodies of men and women and children, some consumed by flames, some hacked by swords-a multitude of corpses. Buliwyf and the warriors did not speak and yet even here there was no grief, no crying and sadness. Never have I seen a race that accepts death as the Northmen do. I myself was sick many times at the sights, and they were never so.

At last I said to Herger, “Who has done this?” Herger pointed in to the land, to the forests and the hills set back from the gray ocean. There were mists over the forests. He pointed and did not speak. I said to him, “Is it the mists?” He said to me, “Do not ask more. You will know sooner than you wish.”

Now this happened: Buliwyf entered one smoking ruined house and returned to our company bearing a sword. This sword was very large and heavy, and so heated by the fire that he carried it with a cloth wrapped around the handle. Verily I say it was the largest sword I have ever seen. It was as long as my own body and the blade was flat and broad as the palms of two men’s hands set side by side. It was so large and heavy that even Buliwyf grunted at the carrying of it. I asked Herger what was the sword, and he said, “That is Runding,” and then Buliwyf ordered all his party to the boat, and we set out to sea again. None of the warriors looked back at the burning town of Yatlam; I alone did this, and I saw the smoking ruin, and the mists in the hills beyond.