“He lived in the island,” she went on, “for many years, all alone save for me.”

Estein could not keep himself from asking,—­

“Alone all the time?”

“All—­save once indeed, when a Viking came by chance, but he left shortly,” and then she continued hastily:  “My father thought often of the burning.  Many deeds he had done which he repented of there in the solitude of the Holy Isle.  Yet was he not worse than others, only he became a Christian, and so they seemed ill deeds to him.”

“Even this burning?” said Estein, a little dryly.

“Think not so harshly of him!” she cried.  “He was—­he was my father!”

“I ask your pardon, Mistress Osla.  Go on.”

“At length he fell sick, and in the last of the winter storms he died.”

So far Estein had been listening most curiously, wondering much what the upshot of it all would be, and keeping a severe restraint on his tongue.  But at Osla’s last words he had nearly betrayed himself.  He was on the verge of crying out in his natural voice, and when he did speak, it was like a man who is choking over something.

“Then Thord the Tall is dead?”

“He died penitent, King Estein,” said Osla.  “And he left me a writing—­for he had taught me the art of reading on the island—­ and with it much silver, or at least it seemed much to me.  The writing bade me seek King Hakon.”

“Knew he not then of my father’s death?”

“He was then alive,” she answered; “for the writing further told me what I knew not before, that I had an uncle still alive, or rather whom my father thought was still alive, and first of all I had to seek him.  Else should I have come to Sogn in time to see King Hakon.”

“What is this uncle’s name?”

“He is called Atli, now,” she replied, “but—­”

“Atli, a brother of Thord the Tall!”

“Know you him?”

“I have seen him,” he answered evasively.  “Once he came here.  But how did you find him?  He dwells in distant parts, so men say.”

“The writing gave me the direction of one who knew where he could be found, and so I travelled to a far country—­Jemtland it is, many days from Sogn.  Thus it was that when I came here King Hakon had died.”

“And now you seek me?”

“You are his son, and my errand deals with you, for the feuds which were his are now yours,” she answered.

For a moment she paused, and seemed to Estein to look doubtfully at him, as if half afraid to go on.  Then she drew a bag from under her cloak, held it out to him, and said simply, but not as one who craved a boon or sought a favour,—­

“This silver is the price of atonement for the death of Olaf—­will you take it?”

He took the bag, weighed it in his hand, and answered slowly,—­

“This is a small atonement for a brother’s death.”

She gave a little start back, her pride stung to the quick, and he heard her breath come fast.