striving to think of state matters, of the conversion of the heathen, of the building of more ships since Sweyn of Denmark had been threatening the shores of Norway. Strive as he might to think of his kingdom, the thought of Gudrun was the ruling one.
As he sat thus, he heard a woman’s voice pleading with the guard beyond the curtain. Olaf started as he recognized the tone, and he was about to draw aside the curtain himself, when the guard entered. In his hand the man held a broad bracelet of burnished gold with a red ribbon wound around it. He handed it to the king.
“A maiden with a dark veil and heavy cloak bade me give thee this, my King, and by this token, she pleads for a word with thee!”
Olaf took the bracelet tenderly. He had himself clasped it upon Gudrun’s upper arm.
“Bid her enter,” he told the guard.
A moment later a graceful figure enveloped in a long cloak hastily entered the room. Throwing aside the veil, the girl knelt before the king.
“What is it, my Gudrun?” Olaf asked, extending his hand to her and placing her in a chair beside him. His whole strong heart was aroused at the sight of this proud woman at his feet, and at the evidence of her distress. Gudrun struggled a moment with her sobs, and falling again upon her knees, she faltered out: “My King! my King! give me but leave to quit thy kingdom. My life is not safe in Norway.”
