But Egwina was silent, a resolve growing in her heart that, though death might be her portion, or, worse yet, the severest torture, she would not lead these men to Alfred’s hiding place.
The seid woman came down from the platform and glided through the Danes, who, now that they had pledged themselves to Odin, began to hold high revelry, to the side of the maiden.
“Within thy breast there rests a jewel,” she said, in a low tone, to the girl. “It is wondrously wrought, and Gyda wants it. Give it to her and she will help thee to escape from Hakon.”
“I cannot. It is the—” began the girl, and paused.
“Yea; the king’s. I know, maiden, the word that thou wouldst speak. Well do the runes read for Alfred the king. Let me but have his jewel and thou shalt go free.”
But Egwina shook her head.
“Wondrous will be thy fate, maiden. Dost wish to know it? Gyda will tell thee, and will help thee on that mission on which thou art bent.”
“Why dost thou wish for the jewel of Alfred the king? Saxon thou art not. Why dost thou wish it?”
“It bringeth good fortune to him who carries it. Wisdom and all the magic of galdra will be mine if but I possess the jewel of Alfred. Long, long ago, the runes told me that but one thing I lacked, and then all things would unfold to my view. That was something belonging to a Saxon king of the line of Cerdic who should be driven from his throne by my people. Give it me, maiden. All thy fate will I unfold, and more. I will compel Guthrum to extend his frith (peace) over thee so that thou mayest find those whom thou seekest in safety.”
“No;” said Egwina boldly. “Let me know of my fate only as it comes to me. I will not aid thee in thy wicked art. Naught of King Alfred’s should be used in so base a cause; and not this jewel while I hold it.”