surely choose a husband of thy own race and station. Who is this stranger? Whom hast thou brought here?”
The Princess Gyda looked bravely in the king’s face. “I know not, my brother, his name nor his home. He is of the North, I believe; but of all here I was free to choose, and him have I chosen.”
A terrible cry now arose in the multitude, like the angry roar of the heavens before a storm.
“He is a spy of the Danes! Shame upon the Princess of Erne who has chosen the enemy of her country! Thou art no longer our king’s daughter, thou art none of Malachy’s blood that thou canst wed in the black race of Turgesius.”
The Norseman turned to the crowd. “I am no Dane! I come from the great North kingdom of Norway.” There seemed a greater height and strength to the man as he proclaimed his country.
