As we went Olaf was very cheerful, and railed pleasantly at Ottar for his fears, while I said little, not knowing if I wanted to find Gunnhild or not.

But Ottar would not pretend to be braver than he felt, having no shame in fear of things other than earthly, a matter wherein I think that he was right.

“Why,” said the king, “if Dame Gunnhild tries to fray us, do you but turn that cloak of yours inside out, and you will frighten her”—­for it chanced that the scald’s red cloak had a white woollen lining, whereof he was somewhat proud, being a lover of bright dress.

“It is ill to mock a spirit,” the scald said; “wherefore do I believe the less that a Wise Woman will bide in the place that it haunts.”

So they talked until we came to the woodland; and when we came among the trees a silence fell on us.

“It is of no use,” I said, “let us go back.  You are right, and she cannot bide here.”

“Why, now that I have got over my fear so far,” Olaf said, “I will go on, even to the water’s edge.  Then will we go back.”

I could not gainsay him, as may be known, and so we went on.  It was easy at first to thread our way through the trees, but presently they were thicker, and it was dark.  There was no wind moving in the boughs overhead, and there is no denying that the silence of that deserted place weighed heavily on us all.

And when we drew close to the water’s edge, and saw the still water, starlit, stretching before us, a water hen sprang from the reeds almost at our feet with her shrill warning cry, and flapped out into the middle of the dark mere, leaving a long trail of broken water behind her that gleamed for a moment with dancing star sparks from the sky, as if it might have been the path of the White Lady herself.  And from all round the lake came the answering cries of her mates, sounding weird and strange through the silent gloom.  I heard Ottar draw a deep breath, and we all three started, and stood still, as if turned to stone.

“We have taken fright easily,” said Olaf, as if angry with himself for being thus startled.  “My heart beats like a hammer, and I will bide here till I can do better than that.”

Yet he spoke in a whisper; and I saw no reason to try to answer him if I could.  Then he walked on, keeping to the right, where the ground is high, at the hill foot, but still skirting the water’s edge.  Then I saw something beside the reeds, and went aside to see what it was; and, as I thought, it was a canoe that some fisher had left.  There was a paddle still in it, and a bow net set on hoops, such as we were wont to use for eels and tench.

“Here is how Gunnhild might find food,” I thought, but it was not likely.

Ottar stood and looked into it with me, but the king had walked on.

Now it grew darker as we followed him, and Ottar tripped and fell, and I lost him, though I could hear him close behind me as he broke a branch now and then in passing.