The Thrall of Leif the Lucky by Ottilie A. (Ottilia Adelina) Liljencrantz
page 99 of 317 (31%)
page 99 of 317 (31%)
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They faced about eagerly. Editha's smooth brown head was indeed to be
seen threading its way between the noisy groups. They agreed that it was time they heard from the shield-maiden. For her to take advantage of her womanhood, and turn the forecastle into a woman's-house, and forbid their approach, was something unheard-of and outrageous. "It would be treating her as she deserves if we should refuse to go now when she sends for us," Egil growled, though without any apparent intention of carrying out the threat. To the extreme amusement of his fellows, Sigurd began to settle his ornaments and rearrange his long locks. "It may be that she accepts my invitation to play chess. Leif spoke with her for a long time this afternoon; it is likely that he roused her from her black mood." "It is likely that he roused her," Alwin said slowly. There was something so peculiar in his voice that they all turned and looked at him. He had suddenly grown very red and uncomfortable. "It seems that anyone can be foreknowing at certain times," he said, trying to smile. "Now my mind tells me that the summons will be for me." "For you!" Egil's brows became two black thunder-clouds from under which his eyes flashed lightnings at the thrall. Alwin yielded to helpless laughter. "There is little need for you to get angry. Rather would I be drowned than go." |
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