“And is it thus you perform your errand?” cried Sigurd. “Where are thy companions?”
“Drowned, my liege, in the fiord, as I had been but for your gracious help.”
“And when is the king coming to assault this tower?” demanded an English noble who sat near.
“Never,” said the man, shortly.
“And why?” asked Sigurd.
“Oh, my liege,” said the man, dropping once more on his knees, “please Heaven, in a week’s time there will be no king in all this land but Sigurd.”
The hero started from his seat and seized the man roughly.
“What is it you say?” he cried. “Speak out, and that plainly, or it will be worse for you!”
“On this day week,” said the trembling serf, “Ulf is to visit his castle of Niflheim. He goes there alone, as you, my liege, came hither, to receive his bride. But he will never return the way he came, for Bur and Harald, your friends, my prince, have vowed to slay him there, and at one blow rid the land of a tyrant and give it a just and good king.”
When Sigurd heard this he turned white and red with wrath and fear. Fiercely he summoned his guards, and bade them seize the spy and cast him into the dungeon.