him for his weakness. He turned to her fiercely. “I am no man’s hired hind, and I am no woman’s bond-servant and thrall! Thou liest! I am the scald and the trusted friend of King Olaf; and I would be the lord of the little Irish maid who dwells with the Lady Aastrid!”
“Her lord indeed! Then why dost thou not take her? The Norsemen are masters of their women, not their thralls. The girl is but a slave, bought from the Danes with the gold of Olaf Tryggevesson. And forsooth, my Lady Aastrid, who scorns me so greatly, must keep this maid in her household as she were a princess. And thou, the best singer of Norway, must be dumb and mooning around, because the girl will not come to thee. Bah! it doth surely weary me to see such craven, milk-hearted Norsemen. If thou dost want the girl, why dost thou not take her with a strong hand, and she will know thee for her master?”
Anger and shame were strong upon the scald. So he cried out impetuously: “As soon would I drive my own knife into my own heart as I would take the maiden against her will.”
“Oh! these Norsemen over-nice! Hath Olaf and his Irish priests taught thee thus? Ye are but wenches in the clothing of men! My Lord Haakon was no such puny viking.” Then Thora smiled graciously. “But wilt thou not come to my home in Rimul? The hall is full of light, and the feasters will
