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Rh oar, until he had gone backwards and forwards upon every oar on the ship, and over every circular wooden shield at the side of each oar.

“Now row again,” he ordered, and the rowers began to cut the waves in rhythmic motion. As the oars flashed in and out of the water, Olaf sprang upon the first one, and walked upon it, going down into the water as the oar sank, and rising with it as it rose. Running out to the very end of the oar as it rose and fell, he ran back to the locker and sprang upon the next rising oar. Not like anything human seemed the mighty viking, in his glittering armor and golden helmet, but like one of the genii of the world of waters, or like some beautiful gigantic sea-bird poised upon the flashing, dripping oars. The Danes crowded to the side of their vessel to watch Olaf in wide-mouthed wonder.

“It is surely Odin!” shouted Ulf, “none other could so walk the water. Or art thou Njord himself? Hast thou just come from the Noatun, and hast thou sent the storms that plagued us so many days on the shores of the Angles?”

Olaf smiled and turned to the priests. “They believe me to be their old war god, Odin, or the sea god, Njord, who, they say, dwells in the land of Noatun. Every Norse king, when he is victorious, is believed to be Odin himself come again to earth, as he is said to come once in a hundred years.”

Here Olaf drew out his sword, with the cross at the