Asbiorn saw to that matter straightway.
Men say now that when the northern fires light the sky, across the fjord drifts the wraith of Arnkel, and that ever the wild hunt comes up from the sea and hounds him hence.

I have heard the bay of those terrible hounds more than once indeed, but I have seen naught, and round our hall is no unrest.
In the sunshine of next day Gerda would hear what had become of Arnkel, supposing that he was kept safely somewhere.

I think that the hurt to me, small as it was, angered her against him more than the wrongs he had done to herself.
"He is dead," I told her.

"He died at the hand of Asbiorn and the men of the place, in all justice.

He may be forgotten." She did not ask more, for the way in which he ended she would not wish to hear.