“Welcome, my dear Thane!” cried Olaf, heartily, and the Greek priest smiled a greeting. “Father Sergius and I have just been talking of our stubborn heathens, and we can see no other way to make them bend to the Cross but by torturing them.”
Earl Sigvalde was silent, and Thorgills quickly laying aside his harp, faced the Greek. “And what sayest thou, Father Sergius?” The bard’s voice was very earnest. “Out of all these volumes canst thou find no way to bring our people to the Cross save only by torture?”
Father Sergius paused before replying, and Olaf broke out:
“It is all they deserve. They should be lashed and scourged, even as the Christ was—aye, they should be crucified, too—if their heathen hearts are too hard to give Him the place of Odin and Thor.”
“But, Father Sergius,” interposed Earl Sigvalde, “thou thyself hast read to us that Christ prayed for pardon for them that crucified Him.” The earl’s voice was very smooth.
Father Sergius looked up. “I have told King Olaf,” he said, “that our Patriarch, Michael of Constantinople, hath written us that the heathen must not be publicly punished. But the more obstinate among them must learn that they will have to suffer if they openly confess Odin and Thor.”
“How like a Greek!” sneered Sigvalde, in an undertone, that however reached the priest and brought
