me on my throne, and in the days of my strength to see the race of Harold Fairhaired ready to stand in my place when I, too, shall close my eyes. I will take the counsel ye have given. In one month will I wed the Lady Gudrun, the daughter of Jarl Ironbeard. She is the maiden of my choice. Moreover, it is her right that I should wed her and pay her the blood atonement, since my vassals did slay her father.”
In the deep silence that met his words, Thorgills grasped the king’s tunic with a pleading gesture; but Olaf waved him away.
“What, my thanes, no word to greet such tidings from your king?”
“Thou must know, my King,” said Earl Sigvalde, more tactful than the rest of the unreconciled group, “thy thanes can only wish thee well in wedlock or in war.”
“And thou, my kinswoman—thou of my own blood?” pleaded Olaf, turning to the Lady Aastrid. “What blessing, what well-wishing hast thou for me on my betrothal to the maiden dearest to me in all Norway? Never yet did Olaf set forth on a venture without thy prayers; and surely wedlock were as perilous a voyage as ever I have made in my vikings, and hast thou no word to speed me?”
Lady Aastrid looked sadly up to the strong, earnest face, and her words came slowly as if it were a sore task to utter them.
“Thou art my kinsman, and there is ever the
