"This villain likes not your news, 'tis clear.

You have done your task, the headsman shall soon do his." Sigurd said nothing, but, with head bent and hands clasped, walked slowly from the cell and on towards the gate.
Here no man stopped him, but some more devout than the rest rendered obeisance, and crossed themselves as he passed.
Once out of the castle Sigurd breathed freely, and with thankful heart quickened his pace through the fast emptying streets in the direction of Niflheim.
A double care now pressed on him.

The first on account of his brother's danger, the other lest he himself, in his efforts to save the king, should be detained, and so unable to keep faith with the brave man he had left in his place in the dungeon.
He therefore pressed on with all speed, unheeded by passers-by, to whom the sight of a monk hurrying on some mission of mercy was no strange thing.
In due time, in the dim twilight, the castle of Niflheim rose before him, and he felt that his journey was nearly done.
Late as it was, there was revelling going on in the palace.

Knights and ladies crowded the halls, whilst without, in the outer rooms, persons of all degrees congregated to witness the festivities and share in the hospitalities of the royal bridegroom.

For though Ulf was hated by all, some, either through fear or greediness, failed not to keep up a show of loyalty and even mirth in the royal presence.
Sigurd entered the palace unchallenged, and mingled with the outer throng of onlookers.