"Answer, you Norway rat!"
I ground my teeth with rage, and said nothing.
"Fetch the English churl, and ask him if he knows who these are," said the Dane. "Then shall we see if this is a question of drowning or ransom."
Two of tho men went back into the woods, and presently returned, dragging with them my thrall Brand, whose teeth chattered with terror, more of the place than of the Danes as it seemed, for he kept his eyes on the mere.
When he saw me I shook my head ever so little in token that he should not own us. If Olaf thought best we could do that for ourselves.
Then they cuffed the poor thrall, and asked him if he knew us; and for answer he did but point out over the mere, whose waters looked black as ink beyond the fire lit circle of trees and shore.
"Let us go hence, lord Danes," he said trembling, "then will I say what I can. The Lady is wroth with men who come here at night."
"We care for no ladies," said the leading Dane. "What are you feared of?"
"The White Lady who dwells in the mere. To look on her in her wrath is death," Brand said--and one might well see that his terror was real.
The Danes looked on one another, and there were white faces among them. Then, as luck would have it, one said: