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Rh frightened woman. “How dost thou dare stop working? I will turn thee out of doors to work with the men in the ditches. Spin faster, I say!” Thora stamped her foot. “Magda! bring me here the lash for this idle wench.”

“O Lady, have pity!” The woman held out her hands, and as she did so, one could see the cruel welts left by the lash on their tender surface. Snatching the whip from the maid’s hands, Thora brought down the cutting lash, time and again, on the woman’s face and shoulders. She screamed with pain, and when her mistress threw away the whip, she buried her swollen, lacerated face in her bleeding hands.

Thora laughed contemptuously. “So thou art the thing Earl Haakon found so fair he stole thee from thy husband, and roused all his people so I know not if there be any safety for my own self in his kingdom. Some Finnish witch did sure put a spell upon him when he could find thee so fair. I warrant, if thou art many days with me, no man shall find thee fair enough to steal thee again.”

Thora swept out of the room, and poor Aasa crept out to bathe her face, and go back to the weary spinning that she was never allowed to stop.

“Shelter! Shelter and food!” the pilgrim craved piteously. The voice revealed what the changed appearance had concealed.

“Jarl Haakon! My lord, what means this unseemly disguise?”