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"She has speared her last boar!" "After this she will embroider boar-hunts on tapestry!" "Embroider? Is it likely that she knows which end of the needle to put the thread through?" "It will be like yoking a wild steer!" "Taming a shield-maiden!" "There will be dagger-holes in Thorhild's back!" They crowded around her, bandying the jest back and forth, and roaring with laughter.
"Not until now have I heard that Leif had a sister. Why is she never spoken of? Where does she live?" Helga shrugged impatiently. "She lives at Gardar with a witless man named Thorvard, whom she married for his wealth. She is a despisable creature. And the reason no one speaks of her is that if he did he would feel Thorhild's hands in his hair. There is great hatred between them.
He brought with him three of the men of Biorn's old crew, and also the same stanch little trading-vessel in which Herjulfsson had made his journey. The ship-sheds upon the shore became at once the scene of endless overhauling and repairing. Thorhild's women laid aside their embroidering for the task of sail-making.
In the great hall there was no illumination save the flickering firelight. Black shadows blotted out the corners and stretched across the ceiling. The long benches were emptied of all save Leif's followers and Thorhild's band of women. The men sat like a row of automatons, drinking steadily, in deep silence, with furtive glances toward their leader.
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