We had not looked into the hut, and so went back slowly, Gerda with us.  And on the way we asked how we might try to plan for her.

“Oh, if you will but do so,” she said eagerly.  “In any case, let me go back to Norway as soon as I may.  Yet I do not know where to look for a friend who can help me to my own there.”

“We had thought of Harald Harfager, the king,” I said.  “He was Thorwald’s friend, as you told us.  He will act as your guardian.”

She looked at us in some surprise.

“Have you heard naught from Norway of late?” she asked.

Bertric had heard none, and we in Caithness were out of the way of news.

“Harald has been dead these six months and more,” she said sadly.  “Now his son, Eric Bloodaxe, reigns unquietly.  Men hate him, and with reason.  That terrible name of his may tell you why.  Arnkel, who tried to burn me, is hand in glove with him.”

Then Bertric said: 

“Have you heard naught of Hakon, that son of Harald, whom our king, Athelstane, has brought up in England?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head.  “We have heard naught.  We would that we had, for all men speak well of him, and it was hoped that he would be back rather than that this terrible half-brother of his should take the throne.”

“I know him,” Bertric said.  “It were well for Norway if he did return.  Good warrior and good Christian he is, and that means good friend, moreover.”

“We must make for Dublin,” I said.  “We must go to the Norse king, Sigtryg, who is there, and ask him for help.  It will be hard if we cannot find a ship to serve us—­even if not men who will sail to set a queen in her place once more.”

“If that fails,” put in Bertric, “we will go to England and speak with Hakon himself.  Maybe he will take you back to Norway when he sails.  For he will sail.”

Gerda laughed, and shook her head again.

“You make too much of me.  Hakon would not heed so small a matter.  No, take me to Norway, and I will find my cousins who are in the south, and there I may be welcome.  At least, I shall be no burden to them, and they are folk who live on their own land.  It will be the quiet life of the homestead and the saeter which I love.”

She sighed, and there was a far-off look in her eyes as if she saw again the Norse mountains and streams and the flower-edged glaciers, and heard the song of the maidens on the pastures round the saeters, and the homing call for the cattle, and longed for them.

“What of yourselves?” she said presently, and a little timidly as I thought.

“We shall not be content till we have seen you in safety, and in Norway if that may be,” I answered.  “That is all we have to think of now.”

“We are two men at a loose end if we have not you to follow as your courtmen,” added Bertric.  “We would pray you not to turn us off.”

“It is good to hear you speak so,” she said, with a smile that was of sheer relief.  “But it is a barren service, though I would not part with you if it must be put in that way.  I think that I could not have found better friends, and I fear nothing while you are near.”