“’Ware, ’ware of the forest, Jarl Hakon, The dragon steals forth from his lair, He tears thee and thy people asunder, And leaves ye as food for the bear. “Then take from the vala a warning; Seek not the Saxon’s great king; The forces of Wessex are gathering, The dragon of Wessex will spring.” She ceased, and no more came from her lips. In vain did the jarl throw gifts upon the platform. Whatever the power of the volva, it had left her, and she lay motionless on the stone. Finding that it was useless to inquire further, the jarl turned to the hall and called loudly for four cups of mead. “The cup of vows do I drink,” he said. “To Odin, who giveth the victory; to Frey and Nïord, for a good year and peace, and to Bragi. I vow by these drinks that I have drunk to the Æsir that I will do some great deed that shall be worthy the song of the skald. And that deed shall be the hunting of Alfred. If it so be that Odin hath sent the choosers of the slain to bear me to Valhalla, then welcome will be the warrior’s death. Who pledges with me the Valkyrie?” “I!” “I!” shouted the Northmen, leaping to their feet, each lifting a horn of mead to his lips. “To Hela, who will mourn in Niflheim, that she is robbed of her prey!” Again they drank. “To-morrow will we set forth to seek the Dragon in his lair, the king in his hole. The Raven hath driven the Dragon from his throne. Shall he not tear him in pieces? Who goes with me to hunt King Alfred?” Again the hoarse shouts of the retainers filled the hall. “Whether she will or no, the maiden shall lead us,” cried the jarl. “Sweet will her songs come to us as, wearied by the march, we tarry for rest.” But Egwina was silent, a resolve growing in her heart that, though death might be her portion, or, worse yet, the severest torture, she would not lead these men to Alfred’s hiding place. The seid woman came down from the platform and glided through the Danes, who, now that they had pledged themselves to Odin, began to hold high revelry, to the side of the maiden. “Within thy breast there rests a jewel,” she said, in a low tone, to the girl. “It is wondrously wrought, and Gyda wants it. Give it to her and she will help thee to escape from Hakon.” “I cannot. It is the—” began the girl, and paused. “Yea; the king’s. I know, maiden, the word that thou wouldst speak. Well do the runes read for Alfred the king. Let me but have his jewel and thou shalt go free.” But Egwina shook her head. “Wondrous will be thy fate, maiden. Dost wish to know it? Gyda will tell thee, and will help thee on that mission on which thou art bent.” “Why dost thou wish for the jewel of Alfred the king? Saxon thou art not. Why dost thou wish it?”