The battle must be
faced, and faced boldly. One word of reluctance would be the surest betrayal
of her secret. And betrayal meant Rothgar! She shivered as she fancied she
still felt his greasy touch upon her hair. To become his property that he
might even kiss! With a gasp of relief, she turned her thoughts back to the
battle.
After all, it was not unthinkable. Her riding would never betray her; and in
the confusion, who would notice whether or not she used her sword? She did
grow a little cold as the possibility of being killed occurred to her; but
even that darkness gave birth to a light. Being dressed in man's garments, it
was likely that the Valkyrias would mistake her for a boy; if she bore herself
bravely, it was possible that they might carry her up to Valhalla. Should she
once reach her father's arms, he would not let Odin himself drive her forth.
The hot tears gathered under her lids. If only she could get to her father! He
would be glad to see her, and he would be proud of her; Rothgar himself had
said it. Even Fridtjof would not be ashamed that she had borne his name. She
must be very careful about that, she realized suddenly. He had never known
what the word "fear" meant; even in Valhalla he would turn from her, should
she disgrace him. It would become an unheard-of wickedness to borrow a name
from the helpless dead if you could not wear it worthily.
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