“Have a care, girl,” hissed the woman. “If thou wilt not give it me, then will I obtain it by guile. Think not that Gyda hath no art.”
“I will seek Hakon the jarl. He will take me under his hand,” and Egwina rose to her feet.
“Do so,” sneered the other. “His frith will he give thee, if thou wilt but lead him to the king’s hiding place. Choose ye.”
The maiden hesitated. It was even as the witch woman said. Helplessly she looked for Ethelred. He had disappeared from the hall. In despair she sank back upon her seat, and leaned her head upon her harp.
“Look at me, thou Saxon maid,” commanded the wicca.
Almost without knowing what she did, Egwina looked at the woman.
“Heed, maiden, my words. Listen to the song of the witch woman, Gyda. Heed the words which she sings to thee, and sleep, maiden, sleep.”
She made some passes over the maiden’s head singing a low crooning song as she did so. Vainly Egwina made the sign of the cross. In vain did she strive to hold the sapphire ring which Ethelfleda had given her before her vision. The crooning song repeated its rhythmical measures in her ears. The eyes of the seid woman blazed. Living sparks seemed to leap from them to the eyes of the girl. They burned into her brain. She felt her senses reeling, going.
Faintly the voice of one of the Northmen sounded in her ear:
“Gyda, the seid woman, hath caused the maiden to fall into the magic sleep.”