"Do not grieve, dear heart," he said. "She rests in the joy and peace of God's presence, where we shall meet again with her when we, too, go hence. Tell me now of Dame Bertrada. By what lucky chance could you be spared from her bedside?"
"Another cares for her, Olvir, with greater skill than I can give--Fastrada--"
"Fastrada!"
"Be just, dearest. The maiden has surely changed. Before Hildegarde--passed on--she was softened, and now she gives all her time to good deeds. Even Dame Bertrada has no word against her. If only I might so rid myself of vanity and selfishness!"
"That were impossible, sweetheart,--you have nothing of either."
"Olvir! But tell me of my warriors. Oh, this terrible battle! I weep at the thought of the slain."
"Never weep for a viking who falls in battle, little vala. He goes hence rejoicing."
"That is no Christian joy."
"Christian, but far from Christ-like. I have now seen your father's Christian warriors in battle. They rejoiced in the bloody play even as did my grim heathen and--myself."
"Dear hero, I know that you fought only that you might aid in the coming of Christ's kingdom."