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Rh Gudrun made no reply, and as the king turned away, puzzled at her silence, Lady Aastrid muttered to herself, “A churlish, unmannerly wench!” Then aloud, “Sit here, my King, and Thorgills will give the maidens their notes that they may sing to thee.”

Olaf assented heartily. “Aye! aye!” he said. “Give me a stirring song, of war and fights by sea. I will wager the Lady Gudrun knows a song of heroes.” He turned to her.

“I know one of a sea-fight,” she said, “when my forefathers saw Odin himself come down and guide their ship out of the enemy’s reach.”

“Softly! softly! Gudrun!” said Olaf, with quiet rebuke. “We sing no more of Odin. We ask him no more to guide our vikings. We have put the cross where the raven spread on the sails, and the Virgin’s face for the dragon’s head at the prow.”

Gudrun stood silent, and Olaf continued: “Think again, lady; call to mind some saga that a Christian maid might sing to a Christian hero, to strengthen his arm and his heart for battle.”

“I know not the sagas of Christians,” she said contemptuously. “My fathers were heroes with Odin and Thor, and my father says the White Christ has stolen the valor of the Norsemen.”

“It is a lie, as deep as ever that traitor father of thine has told.” Olaf’s voice was terrible in its wrath. “How darest thou stand here with Christian wives and maidens, and tell of thy heathen gods, and