not give my maiden the full blood atonement for the death of her father, I will lay upon thee every curse the Finland witches know, that thy bones may rot, that thy children be never born, and that the dearest wish of thy heart be denied thee every hour.”
“Hush, woman!” cried the king. “I care not for thy curses.” He touched his crucifix. “My life is in the keeping of Christ, and thy curses cannot harm me.”
Ingrid laughed shrilly, and continued her muttered maledictions. “The blood atonement! The blood atonement!” she repeated.
Olaf looked down kindly at the witch. “Thou dost mean,” he said slowly, as if deciding a question within himself, “that I should marry the maiden Gudrun, and make myself her faithful lord, because my vassals have slain her father?”
“It is the blood atonement, King Olaf. My maiden hath no father.”
“Dost thou think the maiden would marry me of her own will?”
The whole expression of Ingrid’s face changed. Here at last was her dearest hope about to be realized. She feigned great sadness, and spoke softly to the king. “My maiden hath spoken to me of this matter, and it is not what I might will, but what her own fancy might desire.”
“What said she?” asked the king, eagerly.
“Thou dost well know, King Olaf, she hath been
