wed the Dane with rapid footsteps to the village. The wounded
jarl was lying upon a heap of straw.

"Is it really you, Edmund?" he exclaimed as the young Saxon entered.
"Glad am I indeed that my messenger did not arrive too late. I heard of
you when we first landed--how the Danes, when they sailed up the Seine,
had seen a Saxon galley of strange shape which had rowed rapidly up the
river; how the galley herself had never again been seen; but how a
young Saxon with his band had performed wonders in the defence of
Paris, and had burned well-nigh half the Danish fleet.

"They said that the leader was named Edmund, for they had heard the
name shouted in battle; and especially when he, with one other alone,
escaped from the burning tower and swam the river. So I was sure that
it was you. Then, a week back, my men told me of a strange ship which
had passed down the river to Paris, and I doubted not that it was your
Dragon, which had been hidden somewhere during the siege. I thought
then of sending to tell you that I was lying here wounded; but Freda,
who had always been talking of you, suddenly turned coy and said that
you might have forgotten us, and if you wanted us you would come to us
in Norway."

"But where is Freda?" Edmund, who had been listening impatiently,
exclaimed. "One of your men told me that she had been carried off. Is
it true?"

"Alas! it is true," Siegbert replied; "and that is why I sent for you.
I have never been good friends with Bijorn since the wounding of his
son, but after a time the matter blew over. Sweyn, who though but with
one arm, and that the left, has grown into a valiant warrior, is now,
Bijorn being dead, one of our boldest vikings. A year since he became a
declared suitor for Freda's hand. In this, indeed, he is not alone,
seeing that she has grown up one of our fairest maidens, and many are
the valorous deeds that have been done to win a smile from her; but she
has refused all suitors, Sweyn with the others. He took his refusal in
bad part, and even ventured to vow she should be his whether she willed
it or not. Of course I took the matter up and forbade all further
intimacy, and we had not met again till the other day before Paris. We
had high words there, but I thought no more of it. A few days
afterwards I was struck by a crossbow bolt in the leg. It smashed my
knee, and I shall never be able to use my leg again. I well-nigh died
of fever and vexation, but Freda nursed me through it