Johnston McCulley

“ Magnus saw, and growled low down in his throat. Brynhild was not the one to pass by a jarl and accept a jarl's lieutenant. Her eyes burned with ambition more than love. In her heart she despised the black jarl for his small stature, yet she gladly would wed with him.
The feast went on. Warriors were teasing the shield maidens now, and scuffling with them. Shrieks of merriment rang out in the great hall. Dogs fought at the sides of the tables, and thralls scrambled with them for bits of food.
Svend the Bloody lurched to his feet, a huge wine goblet in his hand. ”

“ Svend sat down again, half a smile upon his lips. "Olaf may be a great man, but he cannot change every heart," he muttered. "We march to Trondhjem before the sun twice more has sunk beneath the western sea! And before we return perhaps we shall know more of the might of Thor!"
Men and women were leaving the tables now and wandering about the great hall. One by one the shield maidens stopped before the dais and bowed before Svend the Bloody. Brynhild was the last.
She moved deliberately before him, and once more her eyes sought the face of Edvard Haakonsson. ”

“ Whatever happened after this, Svend the Bloody could not hold him to account. A man of rank had the right to protect his honor.
"Yes, jarl, I doubt your courage, also!" Magnus said.
Rolf, the shipmaster, gave an exclamation of surprise. Svend swore roundly. Edvard Haakonsson got slowly to his feet. A wine goblet was in his hand. A moment he hesitated, and then he flung the dregs of the wine into Magnus's face.
The uproar came instantly. Men sprang back against the walls. Shield maidens hurried aside, their eyes glowing. Thralls scattered out of the way. ”