valley, and all Norway has risen up against the overlord, who will not let the wives dwell in peace and in honor within their homes.”
“But Kark! thou didst tell me thyself of the beauty of these women.”
“But, my Jarl, thou dost forget. The times have altered. The brave old heathen days when we won our wives with a thrust of the sword have passed. It is one God, these Christians say, one wife unto death.”
“It is all very lonesome,” Earl Haakon lamented. “Our old Asa faith gave us a world full of fights and of fair women, and a heaven full of mead and beautiful maidens.”
“It were a pity, Jarl Haakon, for thy present safety, that thou hadst not remained a Christian, for too many women will be thy fall, even as they were the fall of the brood of Gunhild. Harold of Denmark had her drowned in a swamp for the sorceress she was, and they are all of them witches. They can conquer and steal the strength of every Norseman; and I would that all the fens and fiords of Norway were full of witches’ bones.”
“Thou dost hate the women, Kark, as honestly as Jarl Sigvalde’s crew.” Earl Haakon spoke with grim laughter.
“Jarl Sigvalde! Oh, yes! He that swore by the Beard of Brage that before the snows of three winters were melted thou wouldst be gone out of Norraway.
