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.
"You make too much of me. Hakon would not heed so small a matter. No, take me to Norway, and I will find my cousins who are in the south, and there I may be welcome. At least, I shall be no burden to them, and they are folk who live on their own land. It will be the quiet life of the homestead and the saeter which I love."