# The North Star/Chapter 30

XXX “ON THE HAMMER OF THOR”
“As thou dost say, Jarl Sigvalde, that thy noble lady is not at home, I will enter and confer with thee.” Thore Klakka smiled grimly at Earl Sigvalde, as they stood before the latter’s residence in Nidaros. “Of a truth,” continued Thore, “the Lady Aastrid likes me not. And as for the little Irish maid that Olaf ransomed from the Danes, she shrinks away whenever I come near, as I were an evil spirit.”
“On these matters we may not waste many words,” answered Earl Sigvalde, as they entered the house. Passing through the wide hall in the front of the dwelling, they came to a small apartment, which served the thane as a consulting-room, in which he conferred with his stewards and retainers. Earl Sigvalde went to a cupboard in the corner of the room, and brought out horns of ale which he kept always filled for his friends. These he placed on the table with the brown bread and dried fish, and bade Thore draw up his chair.
“It is as thou sayest, Thore; my lady likes thee not. Nor doth the little maiden Maidoch. So I gather from their speech concerning thee. Then, too, Father Meilge hath not full faith in thee, for I ​did hear him speak a word of warning to the king touching thee.”
“Yon priest will not speak many more such words,” muttered the steward, laying his hand on the embroidered hammer on the breast of his tunic.
“What art thou saying?” asked Sigvalde.
“It was naught, my Thane. I did but make a prayer to my old gods to be preserved from the hate of these Christians.”
“Well, we will now to the matters that have brought us together. I am weary of the king and his constant striving to convert Norway. My lady goeth with the king in his work, but I ofttimes wish our old heathen days were back again. I will gather my Jomsvikings together once more, and with us will come all the heathens who like not the harsh means of the Greek priests to bring them to the new faith. How merrily have these Greeks torn Olaf’s kingdom asunder, and are even now shaking the throne under him in the name of Christ the White. Bishop Sigurd and his Irish priests are gentler, but half Norway hath already been turned against the king. Now, Thore, must thou and I bring aid to our country, and we will have help in our Jomsvikings, and in Jarl Ironbeard and his strong horde of heathens. I want more power for myself, as thou dost want it for thyself, Thore. Olaf hath not favored me so greatly that I need be slow to bring about his downfall. True, he is the kinsman of my lady; but now that ​Olaf hath come into his kingdom she is quite content to say her prayers and visit the poor. Oh, yes! there is another matter that doth hold her now. A true Christian wife for the king. I am seeking my lost power. I have had letters and messages from Sweyn of Denmark concerning the discontent in Norway; and he hath given me his word, that if I help him to prevail against Olaf, there will be for me full gold and great authority. Thou, too, Thore, will be then far higher than Olaf would ever place thee.”
“Of a surety, Thane Sigvalde, will I join with thee; for if Olaf ever had a mind to lift me in his kingdom, the suspicions of the women, the warning of the priest, and the hate of that twanger of harp-strings, Thorgills, who always looks his doubt of me, would surely stay the king.”
“I must tell thee, too, Thore, that yesterday I spoke with Jarl Ironbeard, he that seemed so strong in power, and so near the throne, when Olaf came. Jarl Ironbeard doth hate Olaf, and he will join us out of revenge. Ironbeard is still strong among the heathens, whose leader he is, and they know him for a stout fighter.”
Then Thore laughed heartily, as if some merry fancy pleased him. “Thou surely hast a great wit, my Thane, for now I do remember that there is gossip among the women of Olaf seeking Ironbeard’s daughter in marriage. That would be the surest pit to dig for his feet. With Ironbeard’s hate and the ​strength of his wife Ingrid’s magic, for she is a Finnish sorceress, if Olaf wedded their maid it were surely his ruin. But I must away, my Thane. My hand on thine, and we will swear our fealty on the hammer of great Thor.”
Thore and Sigvalde clasped hands, and the earl, though in name a Christian, laid his palm reverently on the sign of the war-god embroidered on the steward’s tunic.