“Yonder lies my grandfather,” the lady said presently.  “He was a king in the old days before Harald made himself the one ruler in the land who should so call himself.  But he cared not at all for the name, so that he held his own place among his own people, and therefore let it be, for he was a friend of Harald’s and helped him to the one throne.  Whereby we have lived in peace till just now, when the old chief grew feeble.  Then came my far cousin, Arnkel, and would take first place, for my father, the old man’s son, was dead.  That my grandfather would not suffer.  He would have me rule, for I should not be the first woman who had done so in his little realm.  One of my ancestresses fought as a shield maiden—­as I thought myself until today—­in the great Bravalla fight long ago.  It is her mail which I have on now.  Arnkel pretended to agree to this, being crafty.  It pleased the chief, and deceived me—­till yesterday.  Then at last I knew that he did but wait for the death of my grandfather, Thorwald, and then would get rid of me and my claims.  So Thorwald died, and we would set him in his ship and build a mound over her in all honour.  But to do that must sail her from up the long fjord, where we have our place, to a low shore which lies open to the sea near its mouth, for with us is no place where we may find such a spot as we needed.  A little village of ours is there on the coast, at which we might beach and draw up the ship; and so we made all ready, even as you see it now, save for closing the chamber, and sailed thither after the storm had passed, in the bright night.  There we beached the ship, with the rollers under her, while the people made ready the place for the mound.

“Then suddenly, from over the near hills came Heidrek and his men, and fell on us as the folk worked.  I sat on the deck here alone at that time, clad thus for the last rites, and saw the warriors swarm out of a little valley on my folk, and rose up to go to them with my arms.  Then came Arnkel on board in haste, and bade me shelter in the chamber.  The ship was to be set afloat lest the fight should go against us.  But I would not go.”

There she stopped, and a look of remembered terror crossed her face.

“He had two men with him; and all the rest—­our courtmen and the freemen who loved me, as I think—­were running to the fight.  So they made no more ado, but carried me thither, bound me that I might not cry out, and then set up the timbers hastily and fastened them.  So I must lie helpless and hear what went on.  They went ashore, and soon the ship groaned and creaked over the rollers, but stopped before she was afloat.  Men came then and cast things on board, which were the fagots and the peat for firing; but I could not cry out, for my head was too closely muffled.  I think you would say that I was gagged.  The noise of the fight went on, and seemed to come nearer.  Then the ship took the water.  I heard men leap on board her, and the sail was hoisted.