United States or Isle of Man ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
How much better is it that I am to be shut in a smothering women's-house and wound around with cloth till I trip when I walk, and made to waste the daylight, baking to fill your swinish stomachs, and sewing tapestries that your dull eyes may have something to look at while you swallow your ale? Clods! I had rather the Franks took me.
We will have to swim over to Biorn's dwarf-country." "I propose that we go to the landing place," exclaimed Sigurd. "It may be that the ship which Valbrand sighted this morning is nearly here." "I say nothing against that," Rolf assented. They wheeled promptly toward a gate. But at that moment, Alwin caught sight of a blue-gowned figure watering linen in front of the women's-house.
And it proved very shortly that she was right. In the great work-room of the women's-house, among deserted looms and spindles and embroidery frames, Helga sat in dreamy idleness. The whirlwind of excitement that had swept her companions away at the news of approaching guests, had passed over her without so much as ruffling a hair.
Pulling his cap lower as the keen wind cut his face, he hurried across the courtyard toward the women's-house, trying to frame some excuse that should bring Helga to the door where he could speak to her. Half-way across, he bumped into Rolf. "Hail, comrade!
I have just learned why it is that Thorhild no longer speaks to Eric, and why he is in a mood to smash things." "Why?" asked Alwin, impatiently; but he no longer struggled, for he knew it was useless in Rolf's grip. "Because last night Thorhild told Eric that she had become a Christian. Her bowerwoman told Helga, and when I met Helga " "Met her? Where? Is she in the women's-house?"
Word Of The Day