"Fear is an ill word to use to me," I said sternly. "Know, Iduna, that
if it is put to me thus I fear nothing in life or death. You shall have
the necklace if it can be found in yonder earth, chance what may to the
searcher. Nay, no more words. Steinar will lead you home; I must talk of
this matter with Freydisa."



It was midnight, I know not on what day, since all these things come
back to me in vivid scenes, as flashes of lightning show a landscape,
but are separated from each other by dense darkness. Freydisa and I
stood by the Wanderer's grave, and at our feet lay digging tools, two
lamps, and tinder to light them. We were setting about our grim task at
dead of night, for fear lest the priests should stay us. Also, I did not
wish the people to know that I had done this thing.

"Here is work for a month," I said doubtfully, looking up at the great
mass of the mound.

"Nay," replied Freydisa, "since I can show you the door of the grave,
and perchance the passage still stands. Yet, will you really enter
there?"

"Why not, Freydisa? Must I bear to be taunted by the woman I am to wed?
Surely it would be better to die and have done. Let the ghost slay me if
he will. It comes upon me that if so I shall be spared trouble."

"No bridegroom's talk," said Freydisa, "however true it may be. Yet,
young Olaf, do you take heart, since I think that this ghost has no
desire for your blood. I am wise in my own fashion, Olaf, and much of