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 “ thou dost think, Father Reachta, it were not well for a man to wed his enemy’s daughter? I know not. Gudrun’s dark beauty hath ensnared me, and her sturdy spirit hath aroused all the zeal of conquest within me. Thou hast spoken of the Lady Freda, Jarl Gormo’s fair daughter. She is a gentle, true maid, but to win her were like gathering the white lilies in the still waters, to a man who loves the screaming of the sea-gulls on the high tides. While thou art giving me such words of counsel, I think only of how I can conquer the proud, dark Gudrun.”

Father Reachta’s venerable face was full of thought, as he listened to Olaf’s impetuous words. They were seated in the council chamber of the Nidaros palace. Father Sergius and the other Greek priests had returned to Constantinople. Bishop Sigurd, with Father Breasal, was laboring in the northern shires, Father Reachta had become the king’s closest adviser, and Father Tuathal had taken up the missionary labors so dear to the heart of his martyred comrade.

Seeing that Olaf awaited his reply, Father Reachta said very deliberately: “But see thou, my King.