If it is possible for me to take him
alive and bind him, your own hand shall be the one to strike Sebert Oswaldsson
his death-blow."
The girl's nervousness betrayed her into a burst of hysterical laughter, but
her wits were quick enough to turn it to good account. She said with
Fridtjof's own petulance, "Your boon is like the one Canute has in store for
me. I am likely to wait so long for both that I shall have no teeth left to
chew them with. I like it much better to take your kindness in the shape of
food, if that is a loaf yonder."
The abruptness with which silence fell over the group was startling. Snorri
bent forward and plucked her sternly back as she made a move toward the bread.
A dozen voices questioned her.
"What do you mean by that?"... "Why will it take long?"... "Are they not short
in food?"
Knowing that she could not achieve unconcern, she kept to her petulance,
jerking her cloak away from the hand that detained it. "Should I be apt to
blame him for starving me if he did it because no better cheer was to be had?
Nor do I think you have proved much more liberal. Let me by to the bread."
Instead, the ring narrowed around her; and the chief himself put peremptory
questions in his heavy voice. "Has he food? What do you mean? Clear your wits
and answer distinctly. Can you not understand that we think this food-question
of great importance? The thrall told us they are wont to keep their provisions
in the house we burned.
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