of aspens, then reappeared nearer, and he could make out a white beard
on the gray figure and a veil of golden hair above the scarlet kirtle.
What hair for a boy, even the noblest born! It was the custom of all
free men to wear their locks uncut; but this golden mantle! Yet could it
be a girl? Did a girl ever wear a helmet like a silver bowl, and a
kirtle that stopped at the knee? If it was a girl, she must be one of
those shield-maidens of whom the minstrels sang. Alwin watched the pair
curiously as they galloped down the last slope and turned into the lane
beside the river. They must pass the booth, and then...

His brain whirled, and he stood up in his intense interest. Something
had startled the white steed that bore the scarlet kirtle; he swerved
aside and rose on his haunches with a suddenness that nearly unseated
his rider; then he took the bronze bit between his teeth and leaped
forward. Whitebeard and his bay mare were left behind. The yellow hair
streamed out like a banner; nearer, and Alwin could see that it was
indeed a girl. She wound her hands in the reins and kept her seat like a
centaur. But suddenly something gave way. Over she went, sidewise; and
by the wrist, tangled in the reins, the horse dragged her over the stony
road.

Forgetting his manacled limbs, Alwin started forward; but it was all
over in an instant. One of the trader's servants flew at the animal's
head and stopped him, almost at the door of the booth. In another moment
a crowd gathered around the fallen girl and shut her from his view.
Alwin gazed at the shifting backs with a dreadful vision of golden hair
torn and splashed with blood. She must be dead, for she had not once
screamed. His head was still ringing with the shrieks of his mother's
waiting-women, as the Danes bore them out of the burning castle.