Kark rode on in silence. Haakon was too troubled to speak. At the edge of the river, Kark paused. “Must we ford this deadly stream?” asked the thrall. “See, my Jarl, the floes of ice still rest upon it though it is spring.” Kark shivered, and drew back his horse.
Earl Haakon looked back over the country they had just travelled, and then turned to the river. “This way lies safety. Come, Kark! Plunge in with thy beast. Beyond the river it is but a step to Rimul, to Thora’s house. There we shall find shelter and full comfort.”
“My Jarl, thou hast a liking for the name of Thora. She that is dead, the wife of thy youth, was Thora; and I marvel how her brood, Sweyn and Heming, and the proud lady Bergljot, like that thou hast given the woman Thora their mother’s place. Oh, the women! the women! Jarl Haakon. It is not a wonder that Jarl Sigvalde, and his wild crew of Jomsvikings, let not a woman within their stronghold. Thou hadst conquered the Jomsvikings, and thou couldst have been the peaceful, prosperous, overlord of Norway, but that a woman’s beauty, and she the wife of a strong yoeman, bewitched thee. Then when my lord Erlend, thy faithful son, sent the woman away to appease the peasants, and with the wish that thou wouldst not find her so fair when Thora’s nails and teeth had been fastened in her face, then thou must needs send for the wife of another peasant, and a stronger man besides. Orme Lyrja is king of his
