coronation ceremonies. When he realized its significance he resolved to adapt himself to the new conditions, and await his chance of revenge.
Earl Sigvalde, and the Lady Aastrid, had prepared a great banquet in their hall at Nidaros, in honor of King Olaf. While the feast was at its height, Thorgills left the hall and sought the Lady Aastrid in her bower. The stately, handsome wife of the Earl of the Jomsvikings rose up with full welcome to greet the scald. “After my own king,” she said cordially, “there is none more welcome than thou, most faithful of scalds.”
“That word of greeting is most grateful, my lady, because I would ask a boon at thy hands. There sit in the banquet hall an Irish jarl and his daughter, a little motherless maid. They were captured on the Irish coast by Ulf, the pirate Dane, and King Olaf ransomed them. I would crave shelter for them, and a home beside thee for the little maid. She is gently born, well schooled, and of a most modest behavior. She has full skill on the lute, and can read runes more swiftly than any scald,—I mean the runes of her own land. Then she knows full Latin, and many psalms that the nuns in Ireland taught her, and her needle is a weapon of magic, so many wonderful things can it make. She can weave and spin, and make most gossamer laces.”
The Lady Aastrid smiled into Thorgills’ eager face. “Hath the little Irish maid woven a web about thee?”
