nicor?'

'My brother saw one, in the Northern sea, three fathoms long, with the
body of a bison-bull, and the head of a cat, and the beard of a man, and
tusks an ell long, lying down on its breast, watching for the fishermen;
and he struck it with an arrow, so that it fled to the bottom of the
sea, and never came up again.'

'What is a nicor, Agilmund?' asked one of the girls.

'A sea-devil who eats sailors. There used to be plenty of them where our
fathers came from, and ogres too, who came out of the fens into the
hall at night, when the warriors were sleeping, to suck their blood, and
steal along, and steal along, and jump upon you--so!'

Pelagia, during the saga, had remained looking into the fountain, and
playing with the water-drops, in assumed indifference. Perhaps it was to
hide burning blushes, and something very like two hot tears, which fell
unobserved into the ripple. Now she looked up suddenly--

'And of course you have killed some of these dreadful creatures,
Amalric?'

'I never had such good luck, darling. Our forefathers were in such a
hurry with them, that by the time we were born, there was hardly one
left.'

'Ay, they were men,' growled Wulf.

'As for me,' went on the Amal, 'the biggest thing I ever killed was a
snake in the Donau fens. How long was he, prince? You had time to see,
for you sat eating your dinner and looking on, while he was trying to
crack my bones.'

'Four fathom,' answered Wulf.

'With a wild bull lying by him, which he had just killed. I spoilt his
dinner, eh, Wulf?'

'Yes,' said the old grumbler, mollified, 'that was a right good fight.'

'Why don't you make a saga about it, then, instead of about right and
wrong, and such things?'

'Because I am turned philosopher. I shall go and hear that Alruna-maiden
this afternoon.'

'Well said. Let us go too, young men: it will pass the time, at all
events.'

'Oh, no! no! no! do not! you shall not!' almost shrieked Pelagia.

'Why not, then, pretty one?'

'She is a witch--she--I will never love you again if you dare to go.
Your only reason is that Agilmund's report of her beauty.'

'So? You are afraid of my liking her golden locks better than your black
ones?'

'I? Afraid?' And she leapt up, panting with pretty rage. 'Come, we will
go too--at once--and brave this nun, who fancies herself too wise to
speak to a woman, and too pure to love a man! Lookout my jewels! Saddle
my white mule! We will go royally. We will not