mother. Think thou, Brynjulf! Jarl Haakon will pay thee well, and I can promise thee that Thora of Rimul will gladly aid thee to get Aasa back from the overlord.”
Brynjulf saw Aasa dragged from her home, and he remained bound and helpless until one of his little sons came in.
“O father!” cried the boy, “they have carried our mother to the ship. I-ran all the way to the Fiord. There I saw Jarl Haakon. Why did he take my mother? Is there no man strong enough to slay the wicked jarl?”
“Aye, my son,” answered Brynjulf, as the boy unbound him, “there is one, the North Star, our true king, Olaf Tryggevesson. When he comes Jarl Haakon’s day is over in Norway.”
“Then come, brother,” cried the boy. “We will take our bows and arrows and tell King Olaf we will serve him all our days if he will help us to bring back our mother.”
Brynjulf watched the boys as they went forth, and giving his little sobbing daughter to the women who had crept back to the house, Brynjulf went forth to tell his neighbors the story of the great wrong done to his home.
This was the last crime of Earl Haakon’s long and wicked career. Next day, and the day after, and for many days, the news of the overlord’s grievous injury to Brynjulf was borne along all Gauldale. In his
