Larisa laughs merrily and straightens, brushing against Arnold's arm as she does so.

Oh, of course I know what an ambush is! I can't read, but I'm not dumb. And no, I am not, not, not a Dane. No. I am a daughter of the Svea, and my father's father fought with Erik at Uppsala on that dreadful day that Erik was taken with a spear.

She remains looking at Arnold for a moment, appearing almost regal if it were not for her faded hemp dress, then giggles as she notices other patrons.

But this daughter of the Svea is needed in the kitchen. A pleasure to meet you Arnold. Perhaps you will be here often?

Without waiting for an answer she scurries into the kitchen.