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Updated: May 25, 2025
He is a cowardly fellow, and it is likely that he would have left them there till the English were gone. I kissed Fridtjof's mouth...and...and I laid...my father's cloak...over...over his...face." It was useless trying to go on; a deep sob shut off her voice and threatened to rend her when she tried to hold it back. Sister Wynfreda strove with gentle arms to draw her down upon her breast.
"The English dogs had left them there... My father's face was...wounded...and the moon made his hair all silver round it, so that the blood looked to be black blots... And Fridtjof's sword was in his hand... Always he had wished to go into battle, though he was no more than fourteen winters old... There was a smile on his lips... I made Almstein dig two graves.
But now it came to me that if I could dress so that they would not notice me, there were many good chances that I might slip past them and get out through the postern. I waited till they were all still, and then I crept into the women's room, and found the bondmaids huddled in their beds. They got afraid at the sight of me, for they thought I was Fridtjof's ghost; and they dared not move.
Beside this vision rose another, the vision of this beloved face dead in the moonlight, with Fridtjof's near it, his brave smile frozen on his young lips. From that moment, softness and shrinking died out in her bearing as out of her heart, and her blood was turned to fire within her, the liquid fire of the North.
"I and my kinsman, Ulf Jarl, shall be foremost. To the right of my standard Edric Jarl shall stand, and the men with whom he joined us. He shall have another standard. To the left of my bodyguard shall stand the men of Eric of Norway. Friends and kinsmen shall stand together. There each will defend the other best." Then Rothgar's harsh voice sounded, shouting her name, Fridtjof's name.
As she swallowed the last mouthful, a recollection came to her of the thrall-women grumbling over Fridtjof's wine-stained tunics; and she carefully drew her sleeve across her mouth as she set down the cup. Leaning back in his seat, the King took frowning measure of his guest, from the toe of her spurred riding-boot to the top of the green cap which she had forgotten to remove.
The first pass, her hands had parried seemingly by their own instinct; now she flung back her tumbling curls and proceeded to give those hands the aid of her eyes. They were marvellously quick eyes; for Fridtjof's thrusts, consulting no rule but his own will, had required lightning to follow them and something like mind-reading to anticipate them.
"Think of your present need and of what it behooves us to do. Tell me how you escaped from the chamber, and why you wear these clothes." "They were Fridtjof's." She spoke his name very softly. "I found them hanging on the chamber wall. In the night the men began to entertain themselves with singing, and it could be heard that they were getting drunk.
The girl's nervousness betrayed her into a burst of hysterical laughter, but her wits were quick enough to turn it to good account. She said with Fridtjof's own petulance, "Your boon is like the one Canute has in store for me. I am likely to wait so long for both that I shall have no teeth left to chew them with.
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