Then she put her hand to her back and straightened herself with a sort of groan, as old dames will, and slowly turned round and saw us.
Whereat she screamed, and hurled the hammer at Kolgrim, who was laughing at her, cursing us valiantly for Danes and thieves, and nearly hitting him.
"Peace, good mother," I said; "we are not Danes. Here is earnest thereof," and I threw her a sceatta from my pouch.
She clutched it from the ice pool where it fell, and stared at us, muttering yet. Then Harek spoke to her.
"Mother, I have much skill in spells, but I know not what is wrought with hammer and nail and footprint. I would fain learn."
"Little know you of spells if you know not that," she said, having lost all fear of us, as it seemed.
"I am only a northerner," Harek said. "Maybe 'tis a spell
