“Right art thou, O Hakon,” cried Sigurd. “Keen as the eagle’s are the eyes of Odin’s son that see afar off. The maiden is fair enow for Norse, but is a Saxon. A skald maiden is she, and I misdoubt not knoweth well many songs.”
“I would hear thy harp,” said the jarl, and Egwina stood forth and sang a quaint little Norse song that her grandsire had taught her.
“Good, good,” cried the jarl delighted. “Sweet is thy harp, fair maid, but not so sweet as the voice that accompanies it. Come nearer.”
Egwina advanced hesitatingly toward the high seat.
“Wondrously wrought is thy harp. Where would skald maiden get so beautiful a one? It might be gift from royal hand.”
“It is the gift of a king,” came from the seid woman.
Hakon looked at the maiden.
“It is true, O jarl,” she said in answer to the look. “’Tis the custom of the Saxon thus to reward those who make glee for them.”
“’Tis custom in all lands,” said Hakon with a smile, taking from his neck a chain of gold. “Take this, maiden; as thou playest on the harp of a king, it is fitting that thou shouldst receive royal gifts. ’Tis a chain of gold that hath never known alloy. Behold, from its centre hangs an amulet that ever faithful guards the wishes of the wearer.”
“My thanks I give thee, Hakon,” murmured the girl as the jarl threw the chain over her shoulders.