“Good-looking girls, both of them,” remarked the King to Jarl Rongvold, as they were being led forward.—“Who are ye?” he added, addressing them.
Ada looked round on the circle of men with a frightened glance, and cast down her eyes, but did not reply, while Hilda raised her eyes timidly to the King’s face, but lacked courage to speak.
“Come,” said the King sternly, “let us have no false modesty. Ye are before Norway’s King, therefore speak, and to the point. Who art thou?”
He addressed himself to Hilda, who replied—
“I am Hilda, daughter of Ulf of Romsdal.”
“And thou?” he added, turning to her companion.
“My name is Ada. My father is Hakon of Drontheim.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the King, with a bitter smile. “Is it so? Thy father has met his desert, then, for he now lies at the bottom of the fiord.”
Ada turned deadly pale, but made no reply.
“Know ye where Haldor the Fierce is, and his insolent son Erling?” asked the King.