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 resolve to dwell in Nidaros filled Thorgills with happiness, for in that city was the home of the Lady Aastrid, the wife of Earl Sigvalde, and at her side sat the little maiden, Maidoch. Scarce a word could Thorgills ever draw from Maidoch. She sat spinning or weaving her gossamer laces, and hardly ever glanced at him. Thorgills came often to sing for the Lady Aastrid and her maidens, as they spun. Sometimes if the saga were full of feeling, the girl’s deep blue eyes would be lifted; but when Thorgills’ met hers, her glance fell to the work in her hands. In such brief space the scald noted how wistful, how full of longing was her glance.

One day, Thorgills found the Lady Aastrid alone. “Will I sing thee a saga?” he asked, and she answered graciously, “As thou wilt, but if I may choose I would bid thee talk to me of the king. How fares he with our stubborn heathens? What evil hath the wicked Jarl Ironbeard, and his wicked sorceress of a wife, devised?”

“And if I might choose, my lady,” the scald said, encouraged by Aastrid’s kindly tone, “I would speak