"He hath gone forth into the mart, and my sons are from home; and
Harold comes hither, ere night, from his earldom."

A faint smile, as of triumph, broke over the lips of the Vala, and
then as suddenly yielded to an expression of great sadness.

"Githa," she said, slowly, "doubtless thou rememberest in thy young
days to have seen or heard of the terrible hell-maid Belsta?"

"Ay, ay," answered Githa shuddering; "I saw her once in gloomy
weather, driving before her herds of dark grey cattle. Ay, ay; and my
father beheld her ere his death, riding the air on a wolf, with a
snake for a bridle. Why askest thou?"

"Is it not strange," said Hilda, evading the question, that Belsta,
and Heidr, and Hulla of old, the wolf-riders, the men-devourers, could
win to the uttermost secrets of galdra, though applied only to
purposes the direst and fellest to man, and that I, though ever in the
future,--I, though tasking the Nornas not to afflict a foe, but to
shape the careers of those I love,--I find, indeed, my predictions
fulfilled; but how often, alas! only in horror and doom!"

"How so, kinswoman, how so?" said Githa, awed yet charmed in the awe,
and drawing her chair nearer to the mournful sorceress. "Didst thou
not fortell our return in triumph from the unjust outlawry, and, lo,
it hath come to pass? and hast thou not" (here Githa's proud face
flushed) "foretold also that my stately Harold shall wear the diadem
of a king?"