not over when the
priest has said his say. No, nor yet begun, maybe."

Nobody could have been more easy to quarrel with than Heriolf upon the
subject of his son, except Thorbeorn upon that of his daughter; yet
there was no quarrel. It may be that Thorbeorn was too happy to
stretch his thin legs towards a driftwood fire again, or again, that he
recognised the sweet kernel of his host under the cruddled husk.
However it was, he let the talk of wise women and the Book of Fate
float over his head as the spume of the sea passes over the tangle far
below. The spume creams and surges, then disparts; but the sea-tangle
sways to the deep currents of the tide undisturbed. All well and
good--but there was a Wise Woman.

VIII

Thorberg was the Wise Woman's name. She was the last alive of a family
of nine, all women and all wise in the art of reading the days to come.
It was supposed that she had come from Iceland, but nobody remembered
to have brought her, nor knew of her origin. In these days she lived
by herself in a hut of the Settlement at the Ness, and crouched over a
peat fire all the winter, singing songs to herself which nobody could
understand. In the summer she was often seen about among the pastures
below the hills, but always by herself. When she was asked she might
go out and show herself at men's houses where there was a feast going
on; if she was treated according to her fancy she might foretell the
fortune of the householder or of some guest of his, or the upshot of
the coming harvest, whether of the sea or of the land. But everything
must be exactly as she pleased. There was no telling what she would do
or say.

Heriolf was the greatest man at the Ness, and kept the best table. He
seldom lacked of guests during the dark months. He was a most
hospitable man--loving, as he said, everything on two legs. He had
never accepted the new religion, and stood well with Thorberg, but had
such respect for her that he would never ask her to come to a feast
unless the entertainment were what he thought worthy of her. This
year, with Thorbeorn and Gudrid in the house, he felt that she ought to
be asked up, so sent a man out to invite her, naming the day when the
feast would be ready. Thorberg returned word that she would come, but
made no promises of what she would say.

Immediately, Heriolf set about his preparations and, immediately, there
was trouble with Thorbeorn. He did not like it at all. He t