“There! it may be that I spake too quickly.” Adiva was somewhat mollified by his evident contrition. “After all, there’s no great harm done, and thou hast truly a good heart. I should have known better than to trouble thee. Thou hast brought us many a fine buck, and marry, that is man’s work more than this.” “Natheless, I will be more careful another time,” said Wilfred, reseating himself, and all went as before. Shortly after this, Egwina was much troubled about a strange dream that she had. In some confusion and much distress of mind, for, like every one of the time, she was superstitious, she unfolded it to Adiva. “Good mother, I fear I know not what, so queer a dream had I.” “Tell it, child. Once I could unravel the meaning of night fancies, but it hath been long since I tried my skill. The young care more for such things. Denewulf looks with awe upon a Morthwytha, but he laughs to scorn a reader of dreams. But dear heart! Here do I let my tongue run on and thou hast not yet spoken thy dream. Say on, child.” “I dreamed,” said Egwina, “that I was in a lofty hall. Around me were silken hangings, and the tables and chairs were carved with fine workmanship. Many were my thegns, and they served me from vessels of silver and gold. As I feasted many came and bowed down before me. All at once a great light, that shone glorious as the sun, burst from my body. The eyes of all men were uplifted toward it, and they were dazzled by its radiance.” Adiva raised her hands. “May the blessed mother preserve us, child! What a wonderful dream.” “Canst thou tell what it doth portend, Adiva?” questioned the maiden eagerly. “Child, child, I dare not tell thee that which I think; but if thou wilt say naught before the stranger or Denewulf, thou and I will go to Gunnehilde. She is a Dane, Denewulf’s foster-mother, and a wicca.” “I like not the fact that she be Dane,” and Egwina shrank back a little, for the Northmen held a painful place in her memory. “Tut, child! She is more Saxon than Dane, though I tell not that to Denewulf. She came with her husband years ago when Egbert, the present king’s grandfather, was on the throne. No Christian is she, but a good woman, though she hath been a vala in her own country. Denewulf hath she reared from a lad. Her husband brought him home a Saxon boy of tender years, whose father fell fighting the Welsh and whose mother died soon after. She will tell thee all that thou wishest to know of things to come. I countenance not Denewulf when he speaks of her foretellings, for it is not wisdom to humor a man in aught that savors of heathenism. She reads the runes for me often, though he wots not of it.” “If it be not wrong then, Adiva, and thou thinkest best I will go with thee.” “Then to-morrow will we go,” said the dame, and so it was planned. CHAPTER IX—WOULD YOU STRIKE YOUR KING? Early the next day Adiva and Egwina started for the cottage of the foster-mother of Denewulf, Gunnehilde, the Danish woman.