came near me, I trying to coax her with jewels as women love bright things—she only came near enough to aim her dagger—it shone brighter than my jewels—at my foolish heart that could forget she was of traitor blood and trusted her. The knife found not my life, and hungry as it was for blood, she fed it at her own heart. So now look upon thy work, thou treacherous witch! Olaf Tryggevesson was not thy daughter's fool!”
“Speak not so of her, King Olaf.” The dark sorceress roused from her stupor of grief. “Even as thou sayest, it was my deed. On my head be the penalty. Let them not scorn her in death. She was a true maiden, true in all things save that I taught her it were a noble thing to hate thee—aye, a valiant thing to slay thee.”
Olaf shuddered. “See now, King Olaf! My head is gray and useless. Put it before the ax and say it was I and not my maiden who would have slain thee.”
Olaf smiled bitterly. “Thy head before the ax! And thinkest so gray and poor a thing can stop my path? Nay! nay! keep thy wicked old pate safe from Olaf. It hath enough upon it already. I shall not find it in my way. Go now, and weep if such gracious things as tears may come to thee; and wash away as well as thou canst the blood from thy hearthstone, and the blood thou wouldst have shed upon the king’s hearth.”
An hour later the servants of the palace lifted the
