"Asa Thor! Asa Thor! will you leave me? Is there no place in Freya's hall--in Gladsheim--for a maiden, if to Asgard she may not come?"
I had no answer. For the moment I thought that she saw some vision of the Asir beyond my ken, and then knew that it was indeed to myself that she spoke. For I stood at the door of the house of the dead, with Thor's weapon--the hammer--in my hand, and she wandered in her mind with the weakness that comes after a swoon.
"Hush, lady, hush," said Bertric in a wonderfully gentle voice. "It is not Thor whom you see, but only a friend."
But seeing that I made no answer, nor moved, for I was at a loss altogether, she turned to Dalfin, who still knelt beside me, watching her in blank amaze. The Norse gods were all but unknown to him, save perhaps as he had heard their names now and then from the Irish Danes.
"You must be Freyr, you other of the greeters of the slain. Speak for me, I pray you, to the hammer bearer, that I may go whither my grandfather is gone, if so be that I am dead."
"Nay, lady," said Dalfin, with all courtesy, "I do not know him you mean. I am only Dalfin, Prince of Maghera, of the northern O'Neills."
Now, at that magnificent "only" I saw Bertric trying to stifle somewhat like a grin beyond the shoulder of his charge.
"Lady," he said, "we are but mortal men. We are here to help you, for the ship has not taken fire, and you are safe."
She gave a little gasp and sank back on the roll of canvas we had set for a pillow, and her eyes closed. I put back the last timber hastily, and came aft, getting out of sight behind the bedstead, being in no wise willing to be hailed as Thor again. As for Dalfin, he poured out another cup of the wine and gave it to Bertric, who had signed to him for it.
"She will be herself directly," he said sagely. "Who was it that she took me for?"