“Thy life not safe? Who dares threaten thee?”
“Not one, openly, my King; but I see their hate in every eye. The warriors, aye, the women even, scarcely let me breathe the air with them; because I am the daughter of Ironbeard and my mother is the Finnish sorceress. Thy earls and thy warriors—they are strong men, my King, and I am but a poor, weak maid—and I fear their wrath.”
“Poor little Gudrun!” Olaf said, stooping down to lift her up, and with a tenderness in his tone one would hardly believe possible in the sturdy sea-king. “And thou wouldst leave Norway?”
“Aye, my King, and hide myself in some Finnish village, far from the danger and the hate of my own land.”
“And if I make this land the safest place on earth for thee? I will give thee a king’s protection; aye, my Gudrun,” bending over the sobbing girl, “I will be thy faithful husband, as well as thy king, and,” drawing her to his breast, “if so I make my heart thy shelter, who in all Norway will dare to threaten the wife of Olaf Tryggevesson and the queen of his kingdom?”
Gudrun started away from him, crying vehemently, with real anguish in her voice: “No! no! my King! I am not worthy to be thy wife. It is even as they say; the false blood is in me, and I could not be thy true wife. Only let me hide myself from the hate of Norway; and thou, my King, take to thy heart some
