work in King Olaf’s land, thou and the little maid and ourselves.”
Maidoch looked up inquiringly. What would there be for her in that strange, stern land, save to hunger for the fair, green home of her heart? No one answered the question in her look, and the girl fell to wondering why one so wise as Father Tuathal should speak of any work that she might accomplish.
King Olaf at the prow of the ship was talking to Thore Klakka. His glance fell upon the group around Fiachtna and Maidoch. “Is not yon aged man the father of the maid?” Thore nodded in assent.
“A right heartsome picture it is to see them. The maid so young, so gentle, and the old man so sturdy in his protecting love.”
“It were easy to mark, my King, that they are neither Saxons nor Angles. Think thou how short a space a Saxon father would hold the girl when there would have been full gold for her from the Danes. The Norseman’s gold has bought many a son and many a wife and daughter from a Saxon father. But the Irish sell not their women and their children for gold, or even for blood, while there is yet a drop to be spilled. I remember me of a feast I held with the Saxons in Northumbria. We drank our ale and our bragget out of the skulls of them that had been slain in battle. It seemed to me a right merry thing to drink at a feast from the skull of an enemy. And when next we fight in Norway—”
