“Yea, mistress.”
“And yet thou wast guilty, Koll. And I have given thee many good gifts, is it not so?”
“Yes, it is so.”
“Listen then: serve me this once and I will give thee one last gift—thy freedom, and with it two hundred in silver.”
Koll’s eyes glistened. “What must I do, mistress?”
“To-day at the wedding-feast it will be thy part to pour the cups while Asmund calls the toasts. Last of all, when men are merry, thou wilt mix that cup in which Asmund shall pledge Unna his wife and Unna must pledge Asmund. Now, when thou hast poured, thou shalt pass the cup to me, as I stand at the foot of the high seat, waiting to give the bride greeting on behalf of the serving-women of the household. Thou shalt hand the cup to me as though in error, and that is but a little thing to ask of thee.”
“A little thing indeed,” said Koll, staring at her, and pulling with his hand at his red hair, “yet I like it not. What if I say no, mistress?”
“Say no or speak of this and I will promise thee one thing only, thou knave, and it is, before winter comes, that the crows shall pick thy bones! Now, brave me, if thou darest,” and straightway Groa began to mutter some witch-words.
“Nay,” said Koll, holding up his hand as though to ward away a blow. “Curse me not: I will do as thou wilt. But when shall I touch the two hundred in silver?”
“I will give thee half before the feast begins, and half when it is ended, and with it freedom to go where thou wilt. And now leave me, and on thy life see that thou fail me not.”