XX
“HIDE ME, HIDE ME, THORA!”
It was a weary, terrified man, who came to the door of Thora’s handsome house in Rimul. Close behind came another, ill-favored, sullen, and complaining. In her hall, hung with rich tapestries, Thora was seated when her thrall maiden told her of the two pilgrims at the door. The girl did not recognize either of the men in their beggarly dress.
Thora rose, and walked out towards the door. Her rich robe of embroidered velvet trailed after her, and a long, dark cloak of silk fell from her shoulders. Masses of golden curls, piled high upon her shapely head, were interlaced with jewels. Beautiful, haughty, scornful, she swept past the obsequious throng of thralls, men and women, with whom Earl Haakon had surrounded her.
In one corner of the room a woman sat spinning. Her dress was of the coarsest, and a heavy, dark veil hung over her head. As she heard the sound of Thora’s velvet robe she drew further into her corner, and her sad blue eyes were full of terror. As she passed the crouching figure, Thora paused. A look of loathing and contempt came over her face. “Thou miserable, idle thrall!” she almost screamed to the
