did hear him speak a word of warning to the king touching thee.”
“Yon priest will not speak many more such words,” muttered the steward, laying his hand on the embroidered hammer on the breast of his tunic.
“What art thou saying?” asked Sigvalde.
“It was naught, my Thane. I did but make a prayer to my old gods to be preserved from the hate of these Christians.”
“Well, we will now to the matters that have brought us together. I am weary of the king and his constant striving to convert Norway. My lady goeth with the king in his work, but I ofttimes wish our old heathen days were back again. I will gather my Jomsvikings together once more, and with us will come all the heathens who like not the harsh means of the Greek priests to bring them to the new faith. How merrily have these Greeks torn Olaf’s kingdom asunder, and are even now shaking the throne under him in the name of Christ the White. Bishop Sigurd and his Irish priests are gentler, but half Norway hath already been turned against the king. Now, Thore, must thou and I bring aid to our country, and we will have help in our Jomsvikings, and in Jarl Ironbeard and his strong horde of heathens. I want more power for myself, as thou dost want it for thyself, Thore. Olaf hath not favored me so greatly that I need be slow to bring about his downfall. True, he is the kinsman of my lady; but now that
