“Was she her daughter?” came a man’s voice. “I knew not that Gyda had a daughter, sibbe though we be.”
“Do not the neighbors say so?” asked the first voice. “How should she be here if not her daughter? But now ’tis burthensome for the minx to be sick.”
“Well, see how she doeth. We cannot treat her ill, though but for her, all of Gyda’s treasure would befortune us. Much hath she hidden somewhere, and when the girl becometh better, mayhap she will tell us where it be.”
“Not she,” grumbled the other. Still grumbling the woman approached the bed where Egwina lay.
“How art thou this morning?” she asked.
“Have I been ill?” The clear eyes of Egwina looked at the woman in amazement. “Who art thou and why am I here?”
“Who am I? Why Githa, the wife of Sweyn, own cousin to thy mother. Who else should I be?” asked the woman, who was of surly countenance.
“But I wot not thy meaning. I have no mother; nor have I had sith a child. Nor have I ever heard of any of that name sibbe to us.”
“Odin hear her!” ejaculated the woman. “Dost thou hear that, Sweyn?”
“What?” asked the man.