“So it is said, but that will do them little service so long as we are behind these walls.”
“I wish I had my fingers in their chief’s hair!” muttered Freydissa between her teeth.
“I echo the wish you expressed not long ago,” said Leif laughing. “Would that thou wert a man, Freydissa, for assuredly a spirit like thine is invaluable on the field of battle.”
“Thankful am I that there are other fields besides battle-fields where women may be useful,” observed Bertha, who was seated on a box beside Astrid, with her arm round her waist.
Freydissa merely cast on her handmaid a look of scorn, for she was aware that neither the time nor place was suited to the exercise of her peculiar talents.
“I just looked in to assure you that all goes well,” said Leif, addressing the women generally, “and that you have nothing to fear.”
“We fear nothing!” said Freydissa, answering for the rest.
The somewhat flippant remark, “Speak for yourself,” might have been appropriately made by some of her sisterhood, but they were all too anxious about the impending danger to heed what she said.
When Leif rejoined Hengler on the walls, the shades of night had fallen on the forest. He advised his lieutenant to lie down, but Hengler begged and obtained permission to share his vigil.
There was no moon that night, and it became extremely dark—just such a night as was suited to the purpose of the natives. Leif stood motionless, like a statue, leaning on his spear. His man sat on the rampart; both gazed and listened with painful intensity.