the advancing peasants came nearer and nearer. Earl Haakon grew paler, if possible, and Kark glanced anxiously around.
“Thora! Thora! My beautiful one! My only one! My queen!” whispered the earl in a trembling voice.
“Come, then,” said the woman, “I will see what I can do.”
“There is a ditch underneath the pig-sty, my lady,” suggested Kark, whose brain was more than usually active, preparing some scheme for safety.
“Underneath the pig-sty?” repeated Thora in disgust. “Are ye truly but swine that walk upright? Would ye herd with the swine?”
Kark made answer in meek haste, “Nay! nay! my beautiful lady, I would not name the swine in thy hearing, save that thy gracious pity must know that a living hog is of more service to thee than a dead man could be. If the pig-sty be not inviting, my jarl and I will surely be as handsome in the mud of thy swine as in our own blood when the knives of the peasants shall find us.”
For reply, Thora led them around the house to the field in the rear. The men and maids at work without thought their mistress was but hiring two new hinds, or that Earl Haakon had sent her two more thralls to do her bidding.
At the head of the covered ditch which ran under the pig-sty, stood a large stone. Telling Kark to lift one of the boards which concealed the ditch, Thora
