a flush to his face, as he bent again over his books. Thorgills, looking anxiously at Olaf, asked: “My King, why dost thou not send to Rome, to the German pope, Bruno, who is called Gregory. He was a prince before he was a pope, and out of the royal blood, that must ever speak in a man, he will advise thee how best to conquer the hardness of our heathens. Thou and I, my King, have learned that there was neither fire nor sword when Christ entered Erin. They confessed Him, not amid tortures, but conquered by the love and gentleness of Patrick; and thou knowest there are no stronger Christians, not even in Greece, whence our forefathers received the faith, than these true Irish Christians, who love their friends so fast, and fight their enemies so hard. Let us learn how Patrick wrought the new faith into the heathen heart.”
Sergius was gathering up his books, preparatory to leaving, when Olaf cried out: “Nay! Sergius, stay! This matter of the heathen lies very heavy upon my soul. Thou hast spoken of the land of Erin, Thorgills. I would give ten years of my life, to see my Norway as full of true Christians.”
Sergius had risen to leave. “May it please thee, my lord King, to excuse me from further council on this matter. I must meditate and write again to Michael, at Constantinople, for advice.”
“Well! well, Sergius! Think wisely on this matter until we further discuss it.”
