Bertric had heard none, and we in Caithness were out of the way of
news.
"Harald has been dead these six months and more," she said sadly.
"Now his son, Eric Bloodaxe, reigns unquietly. Men hate him, and
with reason. That terrible name of his may tell you why. Arnkel,
who tried to burn me, is hand in glove with him."
Then Bertric said:
"Have you heard naught of Hakon, that son of Harald, whom our king,
Athelstane, has brought up in England?"
"No," she answered, shaking her head. "We have heard naught. We
would that we had, for all men speak well of him, and it was hoped
that he would be back rather than that this terrible half-brother
of his should take the throne."
"I know him," Bertric said. "It were well for Norway if he did
return. Good warrior and good Christian he is, and that means good
friend, moreover."
"We must make for Dublin," I said. "We must go to the Norse king,
Sigtryg, who is there, and ask him for help. It will be hard if we
cannot find a ship to serve us--even if not men who will sail to
set a queen in her place once more."
"If that fails," put in Bertric, "we will go to England and speak
with Hakon himself. Maybe he will take you back to Norway when he
sails. For he will sail."
Gerda laughed, and shook her head again.
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