HIORDIS. The work was not wasted; for strong is the breast that must be pierced this day.
GUNNAR. I understand thee well; thou wouldst have Sigurd slain.
HIORDIS. Hm, mayhap.
GUNNAR. Thou shalt never have thy will. I shall keep peace with
Sigurd, howe'er thou goad me.
HIORDIS (smiling). Dost think so?
SIGURD. I know it!
HIORDIS (hands him the bow-string). Tell me, Gunnar—canst loose this knot?
GUNNAR (tries it). Nay it is too cunningly and firmly woven.
HIORDIS (rising). The Norns[1] weave yet more cunningly; their web is still harder to unravel.
[1] The "Nornir" were the Fates of northern mythology.