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. Her conscience smote
her now, for her shirking, and she struggled to her feet.

None too soon; above the outside din a horn clarioned, loud and clear. Through
the hush that followed could be heard the voice of Canute, assigning their
positions to the different bands.

"I and my kinsman, Ulf Jarl, shall be foremost. To the right of my standard
Edric Jarl shall stand, and the men with whom he joined us. He shall have
another standard. To the left of my bodyguard shall stand the men of Eric of
Norway. Friends and kinsmen shall stand together. There each will defend the
other best."

Then Rothgar's harsh voice sounded, shouting her name,--Fridtjof's name.
Giving her scarf a hasty twist about her arm, she knotted it with her teeth;
and seizing the sword in her little brown hand clotted with her own blood, she
ran out into the tumult.




Chapter VII