Next to this sword in renown was an arm-ring of pure gold, the work of halting Vaunlund, the Vulcan of the North. Graved on it were the names of the holy gods and their castles, with the signs of the changing seasons, while crowning the circlet, as the sun crowns the heavens, was a splendid ruby. This ring had long been an heirloom of the house and had once been stolen by the robber Sote, who roved the seas pillaging and destroying. News came at last to Thorsten that Sote had caused himself to be buried with all his treasures in a walled-up mound on the shores of Britain; yet there his spirit found no rest, but haunted the place as a spectre. Forthwith Thorsten resolved to seek this ghostly visitant, and with Bele, who offered to accompany him, took ship and sailed away to the shore of Britain, where they soon found Sote’s place of burial. Like a sunken palace was the grave-mound, over which lay piled up vast heaps of earth and ruined stonework. Thorsten and Bele peered through a chink of the doorway into the vaulted depths. There stood the black viking ship, and high up on the mast squatted a grisly shape wrapped in a blue flaming mantle, its staring eyeballs rolling, while it vainly endeavored to scour the blood stains from a rusty sword. All about lay heaps of gold, and on the arm of the phantom gleamed Thorsten’s precious heirloom, the stolen arm-ring. Bele whispered to Thorsten, “Let us go down together and fight with this fiery spectre!” But half angrily Thorsten answered, “Nay, one against one was the custom of our fathers; alone will I strive with it.” Long they contended as to which should first encounter that ghastly foe, but the lot fell to Thorsten. One blow of his spear burst in the door, and he descended into the vault, while, shield before him and sword in hand, King Bele listened without. Wild chantings he heard at first, like some magic spell, then loud clashing sounds, as of swords crossed in conflict. Then came a horrible scream, followed by instant silence, and out staggered Thorsten, pale and distraught; but on his arm he bore the ring. Never in after days would he relate what had passed in those awful depths, and when questioned would turn away shuddering. But he was often wont to say, “Truly, ’twas dearly bought, this arm-ring. But once in my life have I trembled, and that was when I took it!”