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 “ thou dost say, Jarl Sigvalde, that thy noble lady is not at home, I will enter and confer with thee.” Thore Klakka smiled grimly at Earl Sigvalde, as they stood before the latter’s residence in Nidaros. “Of a truth,” continued Thore, “the Lady Aastrid likes me not. And as for the little Irish maid that Olaf ransomed from the Danes, she shrinks away whenever I come near, as I were an evil spirit.”

“On these matters we may not waste many words,” answered Earl Sigvalde, as they entered the house. Passing through the wide hall in the front of the dwelling, they came to a small apartment, which served the thane as a consulting-room, in which he conferred with his stewards and retainers. Earl Sigvalde went to a cupboard in the corner of the room, and brought out horns of ale which he kept always filled for his friends. These he placed on the table with the brown bread and dried fish, and bade Thore draw up his chair.

“It is as thou sayest, Thore; my lady likes thee not. Nor doth the little maiden Maidoch. So I gather from their speech concerning thee. Then, too, Father Meilge hath not full faith in thee, for I