{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5120/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5120","id":"gutenberg_5120","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5120","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Norway -- Juvenile fiction","Vikings -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVANDRAD THE VIKING\n\nor\n\nThe Feud and the Spell\n\nby\n\nJ. STORER CLOUSTON\n\n\n\nWITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY HUBERT PATON\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nI. THE WEST SEA SAILING\n\nII. THE BAIRN-SLAYERS\n\nIII. THE HOLY ISLE\n\nIV. THE ISLAND SPELL\n\nV. ANDREAS THE HERMIT\n\nVI. THE HALL OF LIOT\n\nVII. THE VERDICT OF THE SWORD\n\nVIII. IN THE CELL BY THE ROOST\n\nIX. THE MESSAGE OF THE RUNES\n\nX. KING BUE'S FEAST\n\nXI. THE HOUSE IN THE FOREST\n\nXII. THE MAGICIAN\n\nXIII. ARROW AND SHIELD\n\nXIV. THE MIDNIGHT GUEST\n\nXV. THE LAST OF THE LAWMAN\n\nXVI. KING ESTEIN\n\nXVII. THE END OF THE STORY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE WEST SEA SAILING.\n\n\nLong after King Estein had joined his fathers on the little holm\nbeyond Hernersfiord, and Helgi, Earl of Askland, had become but a\nwarlike memory, the skalds of Sogn still sang this tale of Vandrad\nthe Viking. It contained much wonderful magic, and some\nastonishingly hard strokes, as they told it; but reading between\ntheir lines, the magic bears a strong resemblance to many spells\ncast even at this day, and as for the sword strokes, there was\nneed for them to be hard in Norway then. For that was the age of\nthe making of many kingdoms, and the North was beginning to do its\nshare.\n\nOne May morning, more than a thousand years ago, so the story\nruns, an old man came slowly along a woodland track that uncoiled\nitself from the mountain passes and snow-crowned inlands of\nNorway. Presently the trees grew thinner, and grass and wild\nflowers spread on either hand, and at last, just where the path\ndipped down to the water-side at Hernersfiord, the traveller\nstopped. For a while he remained there in the morning sunshine,\nwatching the scene below, and now and then speaking out his\nthoughts absently in the rapt manner of a visionary.\n\nThough his clothes were old and weather-stained, and bare of any\nornament, his face and bearing were such as strike the mind at\nonce and stay in the memory. He was tall and powerfully framed,\nand bore his years and the white volume of his beard in an\naltogether stately fashion; but his eyes were most indelible, pale\nblue and singularly cold in repose, very bright and keen and\nsearching when his face was animated.\n\nThey saw much to stir them that morning. On the slope above\nHernersfiord stood the royal hall of Hakonstad, the seat of the\nkings of Sogn; and all about the house, and right down to the\nwater's edge, there was a great bustle and movement of men. From\nthe upland valley at the fiord head, warriors trooped down to the\nships that lay by the long stone pier. The morning sun glanced on\ntheir helmets and coats of mail, and in the still air the clash of\npreparation rang far up the pine-clad hillside. He could see some\nbringing weapons and provisions down to the shore, and others\nbusily lading the ships. Women mingled in the crowd, and every\nhere and there a gay cloak and gilded helm marked a leader of\nrank.\n\n\"Ay, the season has come for Vikings to put to sea again,\" he\nsaid. \"Brave and gay are the warriors of Sogn, and lightly they\nleave. When a man is young, all roads are pleasant, and all lead\nhome again. Many have I seen set sail these last sixty years, and\ntheir sailing led them--where?\"\n\nAnd then again, as the stir increased, and he could see the men\nbeginning to troop on board the long ships,--\n\n\"This voyage shall be as the falling of snowflakes into the sea;\nbut what man can escape his fate?\"\n\nMeanwhile a party of men had just left the woods, and were coming\ndown the path to the fiord, ten or twelve in all, headed by an\nexceedingly broad, black-bearded man, clad in a leather coat\nclosely covered all over with steel scales, and bearing on his\nshoulder a ponderous halberd.\n\nThe path was very narrow at that point, and he of the black beard\ncalled out gruffly,--\n\n\"Make way, old man! Give room to pass.\"\n\nRoused abruptly from his reverie, the dreamer turned quietly, but\nmade no movement to the side. The party by this time were so close\nthat they had perforce to halt, with some clash of armour, and\nagain their captain cried,--\n\n\"Are you deaf? Make way!\"\n\nYet there was something daunting in the other's pale eye, and\nthough the Viking moved the halberd uneasily on his shoulder, his\nown glance shifted. With the slightest intonation of contempt, the\ntraveller asked,--\n\n\"Who bids me make way?\"\n\nThe black-bearded man looked at him with an air of some\nastonishment, and then answered shortly,--\n\n\"They call me Ketill; but what is that to you?\"\n\nWithout heeding the other's gruffness, the old man asked,--\n\n\"Does King Hakon sail from Hernersfiord to-day?\"\n\n\"King Hakon has not sailed for many a day. His son leads this\nforce.\"\n\n\"Ay, I had forgotten, we are both old men now. Then Estein sails\nto-day?\"\n\n\"Ay, and I sail with him. My ship awaits me, so make way, old\nman,\" replied Ketill.\n\n\"Whither do ye sail?\"\n\n\"To the west seas. I have no time for talking more. Do you hear?\"\n\n\"Go on then,\" replied the old man, stepping to one side;\n\"something tells me that Estein will have need of all his men\nbefore this voyage is over.\"\n\nWithout stopping for further words, the black-bearded captain and\nhis men pushed past and continued their way to the fiord, while\nthe old man slowly followed them.\n\nAs he went down the hillside he talked again aloud to himself:--\n\n\"Ay, this then is the meaning of my warning dreams--danger in the\nsouth lands, danger on the seas. Little heed will Estein Hakonson\npay to the words of an old man, yet I am fain to see the youth\nagain, and what the gods reveal to me I must speak.\"\n\nDown below, near the foot of the path that led from the pier up to\nthe hall of Hakonstad, a cluster of chiefs stood talking. In the\nmidst of them, Hakon, King of Sogn, one of the independent\nkinglings who reigned in the then chaotic Norway, watched the\ndeparture of his son.\n\nHe was a venerable figure, conspicuous by his long, wintry locks\nand embroidered cloak of blue, straight as a spear-shaft, but\ngrown too old for warfare. His hand rested on the shoulder of Earl\nSigvald of Askland, a bluff old warrior, long the king's most\nfaithful counsellor and companion in arms. Before them stood his\nson Estein, a tall, auburn-haired, bright-eyed young man, gaily\ndressed, after the fashion of the times, in red kirtle and cloak,\nand armed as yet only with a gilded helmet, surmounted with a pair\nof hawk's wings, and a sword girt to his side. His face, though\nregular and handsome, would have been rather too grave and\nreserved but for the keenness of his eyes, and a very pleasant\nsmile which at times lit up his features when he spoke.\n\nAfter they had talked for a while, he glanced round him, and saw\nthat the bustle was subsiding, and most of the men had gone\naboard.\n\n\"All is ready now,\" he said.\n\n\"Ay,\" replied Thorkel Sigurdson, one of his ship captains, \"they\nwait but for us.\"\n\n\"Farewell then, Estein!\" cried the earl. \"Thor speed you, and send\nyou worthy foemen!\"\n\n\"My son, I can ill spare you,\" said the king. \"But it becomes a\nking's son to see the world, and prove his valour in distant\nlands. Warfare in the Baltic seas is but a pastime for common\nVikings. England and Valland, [Footnote: France] the countries of\nthe black man and the flat lands of the rivers, lie before you.\nThere Estein Hakonson must feed the wolves.\"\n\n\"And yet, Estein,\" he added in a lower tone, as he embraced him,\n\"I would that Yule were here again and you with it. I am growing\nold, and my dreams last night were sorrow-laden.\"\n\n\"Farewell, son of Hakon!\" shouted a loud-mouthed chieftain. \"I\nwould that I too were sailing to the southern lands. Spare not,\nEstein; fire and sword in England, sword and fire in Valland!\"\n\nThe group had broken up, and Estein was about to go on board when\nhe heard himself hailed by name. He looked round, and saw the same\nold man who had accosted Ketill coming down the pier after him.\n\n\"Hail, Estein Hakonson!\" he cried; \"I have come far to see thee.\"\n\n\"Hail, old man!\" replied Estein courteously; \"what errand brings\nyou here?\"\n\n\"You know me not?\" said the old man, looking at him keenly.\n\n\"Nay, I cannot call your face to mind.\"\n\n\"My name is Atli, and if my features are strange to thee, much\nstranger must my name be.\"\n\nHe took Estein's hand, looked closely into his eyes for a minute,\nand then said solemnly,--\n\n\"Estein Hakonson, this voyage will have an ending other than ye\ndeem. Troubles I see before ye--fishes feeding on warriors, and\nwinds that blow as they list, and not as ye.\"\n\n\"That is likely enough,\" replied Estein. \"We are not sailing on a\ntrading voyage, and in the west seas the winds often blow high.\nBut what luck shall I have?\"\n\n\"Strange luck, Estein, I see before thee. Thou shalt be warned and\nheed not. More shall be left undone than shall be done. There\nshall come a change in thee that I cannot fathom. Many that set\nout shall not return, but thine own fate is dim to me.\"\n\nA young man of barely twenty, very gaily dressed and martial-looking,\nhad come up to them while they were talking. He had a\nreckless, merry look on his handsome face, and bore himself as\nthough he was aware of his personal attractions.\n\n\"And what is my fate, old man?\" he asked, more as if he were in\njest than in earnest. \"Shall I feed the fishes, or make this\nstrange change with Estein into a troll, [Footnote: A kind of\ngoblin] or werewolf, or whatsoever form he is to take?\"\n\n\"Thy fate is naught to me, Helgi Sigvaldson,\" replied the seer;\n\"yet I think thou wilt never be far from Estein.\"\n\n\"That was easily answered,\" said Helgi with a laugh. \"And I can\nread my fate yet further. When I part from my foster-brother\nEstein, then shall a man go to Valhalla. What say you to that?\"\n\nAtli's face darkened.\n\n\"Darest thou mock me?\" he cried.\n\n\"Not so,\" interposed Estein. \"' Bare is back without brother\nbehind it,' and Helgi means that death only can part us. Farewell,\nAtli! If your prophecy comes true, and I return alive, you may\nchoose what gift you please from among my spoils.\"\n\n\"Little spoil there will be, Estein!\" answered the old man, as the\nfoster-brothers turned from him down the pier.\n\nThe last man sprang on board, the oars dipped in the still water,\nand as the little fleet moved slowly down the fiord the crowd on\nshore gradually dispersed.\n\nOut at sea, beyond the high headlands that guarded Hernersfiord, a\nfresh breeze was blowing briskly from the north-east, and past the\nrocky islets of the coast white caps gleamed in the sunshine. As\nthe ships drew clear of the fiord, and the boom of the outer sea\nbreaking on the skerries rose louder and nearer, sails were spread\nand oars shipped. Slowly at first, and then more quickly as they\ncaught the deep-sea wind, the vessels cut the open water. Past the\nislands they heeled to the breeze, and over a wake of foam the men\nwatched the mountains of Norway sink slowly into the wilderness of\nwaters.\n\nOn the decked poop of an open boat, sailing over an ocean unknown\nto him, towards countries of whose whereabouts he was only vaguely\ninformed, Estein Hakonson stood lost in stirring fancies. He was\nthe only surviving son of the King of Sogn. Three brothers had\nfallen in battle, one had perished at sea, and another, the\neldest, had died beneath a burning roof-tree. His education had\nbeen conducted according to the only standard known in\nScandinavia. At fourteen he had slain his first man in fair fight;\nat seventeen he was a Viking captain on the Baltic; and now, at\ntwo-and-twenty--old far beyond his years and hardened in varied\nexperience--he was setting forth on the Viking path that led to\nthe wonderful countries of the south.\n\nThe tide of Norse energy was not yet at the full, the fury and the\nterror were waxing fast, and the fever of unrest was ever\nspreading through the North. Men were always coming back with\ntales of monasteries filled with untold wealth, and rich provinces\nto be won by the sword. Skalds sang of the deeds done in the\nsouth, and shiploads of spoil confirmed their lays. Little wonder\nthen that Estein should feel his heart beat high as he stood by\nthe great tiller.\n\nThat night, long after the sun was set, he still sat on deck\nwatching the stars. By-and-by his foster-brother Helgi came up to\nhim, wrapped in a long sea cloak, and humming softly to himself.\n\n\"The night is fair, Estein. If Thor is kind, and this wind speeds\nus, we shall soon reach England.\"\n\n\"Ay, if the gods are with us,\" answered Estein. \"I am trying to\nread the stars. Methinks they are unfavourable.\"\n\nHelgi laughed. \"What know you of the stars?\" he said, \"and what\ndoes Estein Hakonson want with white magic? Will it make his life\none day longer? Will it make mine, if I too read the stars?\"\n\n\"Not one day, Helgi, not one instant of time. We are in the hands\nof the gods. This serves but to while away a long night.\"\n\n\"Norsemen should not read the stars,\" said Helgi. \"These things\nare for Finns and Lapps, and the poor peoples who fear us.\"\n\n\"I wished to know what Odin thought of Helgi Sigvaldson,\" said\nEstein with a smile.\n\nHelgi laughed lightly as he answered,--\n\n\"I know what Odin thinks of you, Estein--a foolish man and fey.\"\n\nEstein stepped forward a pace, and leaning over the side gazed for\na while into the darkness. Helgi too was silent, but his blue eyes\ndanced and his heart beat high as his thoughts flew ahead of the\nship to the clash of arms and the shout of victory.\n\n\"There remains but me,\" said Estein at length. \"Hakon has no other\nson.\"\n\n\"And you have five brothers to avenge; the sword should not rust\nlong in your scabbard, Estein.\"\n\n\"Twice I have made the Danes pay a dear atonement for Eric. I\ncannot punish Thor because he suffered Harald to drown, but if\never in my life it be my fate to meet Thord the Tall, Snaekol\nGunnarson, or Thorfin of Skapstead, there shall be but one man\nleft to tell of our meeting.\"\n\n\"The burners of Olaf have long gone out of Norway, have they not?\"\n\n\"I was but a child when my brother was burned like a fox in his\nhole at Laxafiord. The burners knew my father too well to bide at\nhome and welcome him; and since then no man has told aught of\nthem, save that Thord the Tall at one time raided much in England,\nand boasted widely of the burning. He perchance forgot that Hakon\nhad other sons.\n\n\"But now, Helgi, we must sleep while we may; nights may come when\nwe shall want it.\"\n\nFor six days and six nights they sailed with a favouring wind over\nan empty ocean. On the seventh day land was sighted on the\nstarboard bow.\n\n\"Can that be England?\" asked old Ulf, Estein's forecastle man, a\nhairy, hugely muscular Viking from the far northern fiords.\n\n\"The coast of Scotland more likely,\" said Helgi. \"Shall we try our\nluck, Estein?\"\n\n\"I should like to spill a little Scottish blood, and mayhap carry\noff a maid or two,\" said Thorolf Hauskoldson, a young giant from\nthe upland dales.\n\n\"It may be but a waste of time,\" Estein replied. \"We had best make\nfor England while this wind holds.\"\n\n\"I like not the look of the sky,\" said Ulf, gazing round him with\na frowning brow.\n\nThe wind had been dropping off for some time, and along the\neastern horizon the settled sky was giving place to heavy clouds.\nFor a short time Estein hesitated, but as the outlook grew more\nthreatening and the wind beat in flaws and gusts, now from one\nquarter, now from another, the Vikings changed their course and\nran under oars and sails for the shelter of the land. Little\nshelter it promised as they drew nearer: a dark, inhospitable line\nof precipices stretched north and south as far as the eye could\nreach, and even from a long distance they could see white flashes\nbreaking at the cliff foot. Again they changed their course; and\nthen, with a dull hum of approaching rain, a south-easterly storm\nbroke over them, and there was nothing for it but to turn and run\nbefore the gale.\n\n\"I read the stars too well,\" said Estein grimly between his teeth,\nclinging to the straining tiller, and watching the rollers rising\nhigher. \"And the first part of Atli's prophecy has come true.\"\n\n\"Winds, war, and women make a Viking's luck,\" replied Helgi; \"this\nis but the first part of the rede.\"\n\nAt night the gale increased, the fleet was scattered over the\nNorth Sea, and next morning from Estein's ship only two other\nblack hulls could be seen running before the tempest. Another wild\nday passed, and it was not till the evening that the weather\nmoderated. Little by little the great seas began to calm, and the\ndrifts of stinging rain ceased. In their wake the stars struggled\nthrough the cloud wrack, and towards morning the wind sank\naltogether.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE BAIRN-SLAYERS.\n\n\nAt earliest dawn eyes were strained to catch a glimpse of\nsomething that might tell them where they were. None of the men on\nEstein's ship had been in those seas more than two or three times\nat most, and the vaguest conjectures were rife when, as the light\nwas slowly gaining, Ulf raised a cry of land ahead.\n\n\"Land to the right!\" cried Helgi, a moment later.\n\n\"Land to the left!\" exclaimed Estein; \"and we are close on it,\nmethinks.\"\n\nWhen the morning fully broke they found themselves lying off a\nwide-mouthed sound, that bent and narrowed among low, lonely-looking\nislands. Only on the more distant land to the right were\nheather hills of any height to be seen, and those, so far as they\ncould judge, were uninhabited. A heavy swell was running in from\nthe open sea, and a canopy of grey clouds hung over all.\n\n\"I like not this country,\" said Ulf. \"What think you is it?\"\n\n\"The Hjaltland islands, I should think, from what men tell of\nthem,\" Estein suggested.\n\n\"The Orkneys more likely,\" said Thorolf, who had sailed in those\nseas before.\n\nFar astern one other vessel was making towards them.\n\n\"Which ship is that, Ulf?\" asked Estein. \"One of our fleet, think\nyou?\"\n\n\"Ay, it is Thorkel Sigurdson's,\" replied the shaggy forecastle\nman, after a long, frowning look.\n\n\"By the hammer of Thor, she seems in haste,\" said Helgi. \"They\nmust have broached the ale over-night.\"\n\n\"Perchance Thorkel feels cold,\" suggested Thorolf with a laugh.\n\n\"They have taken the shields from the sides,\" Estein exclaimed as\nthe ship drew nearer. \"Can there be an enemy, think you?\"\n\nAgain Ulf's hairy face gathered into a heavy frown. \"No man can say\nI fear a foeman,\" he said, \"but I should like ill to fight after\ntwo sleepless nights.\"\n\n\"Bah! Thorkel is drunk as usual, and thinks we are chapmen,\"\n[Footnote: Merchants.] said Helgi. \"They are doubtless making\nready to board us.\"\n\nThe ship drew so near that they could plainly see the men on\nboard, and conspicuous among them the tall form of Thorkel\nappeared in the bow.\n\n\"He waves to us; there is something behind this,\" said Estein.\n\n\"Drunk,\" muttered Helgi. \"I wager my gold-handled sword he is\ndrunk. They have ale enough on board to float the ship.\"\n\n\"A sail!\" Estein exclaimed, pointing to a promontory to seaward\nround which the low black hull and coloured sail of a warship were\njust appearing.\n\n\"Ay, and another!\" said Ulf.\n\n\"Three-four-seven-eight!\" Helgi cried.\n\n\"There come nine, and ten!\" added Estein. \"How many more?\"\n\nThey watched the strange fleet in silence as one by one they\nturned and bore down upon them, ten ships in all, their oars\nrhythmically churning the sea, the strange monsters on the prows\ncreeping gradually nearer.\n\n\"Orkney Vikings,\" muttered Ulf. \"If I know one long ship from\nanother, they are Orkney Vikings.\"\n\nMeantime Thorkel's ship had drawn close alongside, and its captain\nhailed Estein.\n\n\"There is little time for talking now, son of Hakon!\" he shouted.\n\"What think you we should do?--run into the islands, or go to Odin\nwhere we are? These men, methinks, will show us little mercy.\"\n\n\"I seek mercy from no man,\" answered Estein. \"We will bide where\nwe are. We could not escape them if we would, and I would not if I\ncould. Have you seen aught of the other ships?\"\n\n\"We parted from Ketill yesterday, and I fear me he has gone to\nfeed the fishes. I have seen nothing of Asgrim and the rest. I\nthink with you, Estein, that the bottom here will make as soft a\nresting-place for us as elsewhere. Fill the beakers and serve the\nmen! It is ill that a man should die thirsty.\"\n\nThe stout sea-rover turned with a gleam of grim humour in his eyes\nto the enjoyment of what he fully expected would be his last drink\non earth, and on both ships men buckled on their armour and\nbestirred themselves for fight.\n\nVikings in those days preyed on one another as freely as on men of\nalien blood. They came out to fight, and better sport could\ngenerally be had from a crew of seasoned warriors like themselves\nthan from the softer peoples of the south. Particularly were the\nOrkney and Shetland islands the stations for the freest of free\nlances, men so hostile to all semblance of law and order that the\nson of a Norwegian king would seem in their eyes a most desirable\nquarry. Many a load of hard-won spoil changed hands on its way\nhome; and the shores of Norway itself were so harried by these\nisland Vikings that some time later King Harald Harfagri descended\nand made a clean sweep of them in the interests of what he\nprobably considered society.\n\nThe two vessels floated close together, the oars were shipped, and\nthere, in the grey prosaic early morning light, they heaved gently\non the North Sea swell, and awaited the approach of the ten. A few\nsea-birds circled and screamed above them; a faint pillar of smoke\nrose from some homestead on a distant shore; elsewhere there was\nno sign of life save in the ships to seaward.\n\nThorkel, leaning over the side of his vessel, told a tale of\nbuffetings by night and day such as Estein and his crew had\nundergone. That morning he said they had descried Estein's ship\njust as the day broke, and almost immediately afterwards ten long\nships were spied lying at anchor in an island bay. For a time they\nhoped to slip by them unseen. The fates, however, were against\nthem. They were observed, and the strange Vikings awoke and gave\nchase like a swarm of bees incautiously aroused.\n\nApparently the strangers considered themselves hardly yet prepared\nfor battle; for they slackened speed as they advanced, and those\non Estein's ships could see that a hasty bustle of preparation was\ngoing on.\n\n\"What think you--friends or foes?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"To the Orkney Vikings all men are foes,\" replied Estein.\n\n\"Ay,\" said Thorkel with a laugh, \"particularly when they are but\ntwo to ten.\"\n\nBy this time the strangers were within hailing distance, and in\nthe leading ship a man in a red cloak came from the poop and stood\nbefore the others in the bow. In a loud tone he bade his men cease\nrowing, and then, clapping his hand to his mouth, asked in a voice\nthat had a ring of scornful command what name the captain bore.\n\n\"Estein, the son of Hakon, King of Sogn; and who are you who ask\nmy name?\" came the reply across the water.\n\n\"Liot, the son of Skuli,\" answered the man in the red cloak. \"With\nme sails Osmund Hooknose, the son of Hallward. We have here ten\nwarships, as you see. Yield to us, Estein Hakonson, or we will\ntake by force what you will not give us.\"\n\nThe man threw his left hand on his hip, drew himself up, and said\nsomething to his crew, accompanying the words by gestures with a\nspear. They answered with a loud shout, and then struck up a wild\nand monotonous chorus, the words of which were a refrain\ndescriptive of the usual fate of those who ventured to stand in\nLiot Skulison's way. At the same time their oars churned the\nwater, and their vessel was brought into line with the others.\n\n\"It is easily seen that our friend Liot is a valiant man,\" said\nHelgi with a short laugh. \"He and his ill-looking crew make a\nmighty noise. Has any man heard of Liot Skulison or Osmund\nHooknose before?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" answered Ulf. \"They call them the bairn-slayers, because\nthey show no mercy even to children.\"\n\n\"They will meet with other than bairns to-day,\" said Helgi.\n\nEstein and Thorkel had been employed in binding the two vessels\ntogether with grapnels. Then Estein turned to his men and said,--\n\n\"We are of one mind, are we not? We fight while we may, and then\nlet Odin do with us what he wills.\"\n\nWithout waiting for the shout of approval that followed his words,\nhe sprang to the bow, and raising his voice, cried,--\n\n\"We are ready for you, Liot and Osmund. When you get on board you\ncan take what you find here.\"\n\nFrom another ship a man shouted,--\n\n\"Then you will fight, little Estein? Remember that we are called\nthe bairn-slayers.\"\n\nInstantly Thorkel took up the challenge. Three beakers of ale had\nmade him in his happiest and most warlike mood, and his eyes\ngleamed almost merrily as he answered,--\n\n\"I know you, Osmund the ugly, by that nose whereon men say you\nhang the bairns you catch. Little need have you to do aught save\nlook at them. Here is a gift for you,\" and with that he hurled a\nspear with so true an aim that, if Osmund had not stooped like a\nflash, his share in the fight would have come to an end there and\nthen. As it was, the missile struck another man between the\nshoulders and laid him on the deck.\n\n\"Forward! forward!\" cried Liot. \"Forward, Vikings! forward, the\nmen of Liot and Osmund!\"\n\nThe oars struck the water, the wild chorus swelled into a terrible\nand tuneless roar, and the ten ships bore down on the two. With a\ncrash the bows met, and metal rang on metal with the noise of a\nhundred smithies; the unequal contest had begun.\n\nOverpowering as such odds could hardly fail to prove in the long\nrun, they told more slowly in a sea-fight. Till the men who manned\nthe bulwarks were thinned, the sides were practically equal, and\nat first many of the Orkney Vikings were perforce mere spectators.\n\nGradually, as the men in front were thinned, they poured in from\nthe other ships, fresh men always being pitted against tired, and\nkeen swords meeting hacked.\n\nLiot laid his own ship alongside Estein's, Osmund attacked\nThorkel's, and the other vessels forced their bows forward\nwherever they saw an opening. The Norwegians manned their bulwarks\nshield to shield, and fought with the courage of despair. Twice\nLiot, backed by his boldest men, tried by a headlong rush to force\nhimself on board, and twice he was beaten back. A third time he\ncharged, and selecting a place where the defenders seemed\nthinnest, struck down a couple of men with two swinging blows of\nhis axe, and sprang on to the deck. Three or four men had already\nfollowed him, a cry of victory rose from the Orkney Vikings, and\nfor a moment the fate of the battle seemed decided, when a huge\nstone hurtled through the air, and falling on Liot's shield forced\nit down on his helmet and him to his knees. It was the work of\nUlf, captain of the forecastle; and roaring like a bull, the old\nViking followed his stone. Estein sprang from the poop and clove\none man to the shoulders. Another fell to Ulf's sword. The\nhalf-stunned Liot was seized by one of his followers, and bundled\nback on board his ship; and for the time the day was saved.\n\n\"After them! after them, Ulf!\" shouted Estein, and twenty bold\nNorwegians followed their leader in the wake of Liot's retreating\nboarding party. Their foes gave way right and left, the gangways\nround the sides were cleared, and, despite the threats of Liot,\nhis men began to spring from forecastle and quarter-deck into the\nships behind.\n\n\"Forward, king's men! forward, men of Estein!\" roared Ulf.\n\n\"Wait for me, Liot!\" cried Estein, charging the poop with his red\nshield before him. \"A bairn is after thee!\"\n\nHelgi, who had kept at his shoulder throughout, seized his arm.\n\n\"They are giving way on Thorkel's ship. Osmund is on board. If we\nreturn not, the ship is cleared.\"\n\nWith a gesture of despair Estein turned.\n\n\"Back, men, back! Thorkel needs all his friends, I fear,\" he\ncried; and to Helgi he said, \"The day is lost. We can but sell our\nlives dearly now.\"\n\nThey came back too late. Already Thorkel's men were pouring on\nboard Estein's ship, with Osmund of the Hooknose at their heels.\nThorkel himself lay stark across the bulwarks, his face to his\nfoes, and a great spear-head standing out of his back.\n\nIt was now but a question of time. With a single ship, surrounded\non all sides, and weary with storm and battle, there could be only\none fate for Estein's diminished band. Nevertheless, they stood\ntheir ground as stoutly and cheerfully as if the fray were just\nbeginning. Finding that all efforts to board were useless, the\nOrkney Vikings confined themselves for some time to keeping up an\nincessant fire of darts and stones. One by one the defenders\ndropped at their posts, and at last, when widening gaps appeared\nin the line of shields, Liot and Osmund boarded together, each\nfrom his own side.\n\n\"Back to the poop, Helgi!\" Estein cried. \"To the poop, men! we\ncannot hold the gangways. One tired man cannot fight with five\nfresh.\"\n\nLast of all his men, he stepped from the gangway that ran round\nthe low and open waist of the ship, up to the decked poop, his red\nshield stuck with darts like a pincushion with pins.\n\nIn the forecastle, old Ulf still held his own, backed by some\nhalf-dozen stout survivors out of all those who had gone into\nbattle with him in the morning.\n\n\"My hour is come at last, Thorolf,\" he said to the upland giant,\nwho seemed to be disengaging something from his coat of ring-mail.\n\"I shall have tales of a merry fight to tell to Odin tonight. But\nbefore I fall I shall slay me one of those two Vikings. Wilt thou\nfollow me, Thorolf, to the gangways, and then to Valhalla?\"\n\nWith a violent wrench the giant drew a spearhead from his side,\nand his blood spurted over Ulf, as he swayed on his feet.\n\n\"I go before,\" he said, and fell on the deck with a clatter of\nsteel.\n\n\"There died a brave man! Now, comrades, after him to Odin!\"\n\nAnd with that the forecastle captain sprang down on the gangway,\nand knocking men off into the waist in his impetuous rush, swung\nhis battle-axe round his head and aimed a terrific blow at Osmund\nHooknose. Quick as lightning Osmund raised his shield and thrust\nat his foe with his sword. The point of the blade passed in at his\nbreast and out between his shoulders, and at the same instant the\nbattle-axe fell. The edge of the shield was cut through like\npaper, and the blade coming fair on the nape of the Hooknose's\nneck, the bodies of the two champions rolled together off the\ngangway.\n\nRound the poop the last struggle raged. Spent and wounded as they\nwere, Estein's little band showed a bold front to their foes, and\naround the red shield of their leader their lives were dearly\nsold.\n\nThen for a few minutes came a lull in the fight, and men could\nbreathe for a space.\n\n\"The next onset will be the last,\" said Estein grimly.\n\n\"Their ships are sheering off!\" exclaimed one.\n\n\"'Tis we who are leaving them,\" said another.\n\n\"Look ahead!\" cried Helgi; \"we shall cheat them yet.\"\n\nThe men looked round them with astonished faces, for a strange\nthing had happened. They had drifted into one of the dreaded\nOrkney tideways, and all the time the fight was raging they were\nbeing borne at increasing speed past islands, holms, and skerries.\nThe scene had completely changed; they were in a narrower sound,\nswinging like sea-fowl, helpless on the tide. Heather hills were\nclose at hand, and right ahead was a great frothing and bubbling,\nout of which rose the black heads of sunken rocks.\n\nThe other vessels had been twisted off by the whirling eddies, and\nwere now rapidly scattering, each striving to clear the reef. Only\nthe four vessels bound together--Estein's, Thorkel's, Liot's,\nOsmund's--swept in an unresisting cluster towards the rocks.\n\nLiot too saw the danger, and raised his voice in a great shout:--\n\n\"Let not man of mine touch an oar till Estein Hakonson lie dead on\nyonder deck. We have yet time to slay them. Forward, Liot's men!\"\n\nThere was a wild and furious rush of men towards the poop. Down\nwent man after man of the battle-worn defenders. Liot and Estein\nmet sword to sword and face to face. The red shield was ripped\nfrom top to bottom by a sweep of the bairn-slayer's blade, and at\nthe same moment Estein's descending sword was met by a Viking's\nbattle-axe, and snapped at the hilt.\n\n\"Now, Estein, I have thee!\" shouted his foe; but ere the words\nwere well out of his mouth, Estein had hurled himself at his\nwaist, dagger in hand, and brought him headlong to the deck. As\nthey fell, the ships struck with a mighty crash that threw friend\nand foe alike on the bloody planks. Two vessels stuck fast; the\nother two broke loose, and plunging over the first line of reefs,\nsettled down by the bows.\n\nThere was a rush to the bulwarks, a splashing of bodies in the\nwater, and then the doomed and deserted ships, the attacker and\nthe attacked, sank in the turmoil of the tide. Estein himself had\nbeen pitched clear of his foe into the waist, where he had fallen\nhead first and half-stunned.\n\nHe felt a friendly hand dragging him to the side, and heard\nHelgi's voice saying,--\n\n\"Art thou able to swim for it?\"\n\nThen he had a confused recollection of being swept along by an\nirresistible current, clinging the while to what he afterwards\nfound to be a friendly plank, and after that came oblivion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE HOLY ISLE.\n\n\nWith the first glimmer of consciousness, Estein became aware of an\naching head and a bruised body. Next he felt that he was very wet\nand cold; and then he discovered that he was not alone. His head\nrested on something soft, and two hands chafed his temples.\n\n\"Helgi,\" he said.\n\nA voice that was not Helgi's replied, \"Thanks be to the saints! he\nis alive.\"\n\nEstein started up, and his gaze met a pair of dark blue eyes. They\nand the hands belonged to a fair young girl, a maid of some\nseventeen summers, on whose knees his aching head had just been\nresting.\n\nThey were sitting on a shelving rock that jutted into the tideway,\nand at his feet his kindly plank bumped gently in an eddy of the\ncurrent.\n\nHe looked at her so silently and intently that the blue eyes\ndrooped and a faint blush rose to the maiden's cheeks.\n\n\"Are you wounded?\" she asked. She spoke in the Norse tongue, but\nwith a pretty, foreign accent, and she looked so fair and so kind\nthat thoughts of sirens and mermaids passed through the Viking's\nmind.\n\n\"Wounded? Well, methinks I ought to be,\" he answered; \"and yet I\nfeel rather bruised than pierced. If I can stand--\" and as he\nspoke he rose to his feet, and slipping on the seaweed, slid\nquietly into the water.\n\nThe girl screamed; and then, as he scrambled out none the worse\nand only a little the wetter, an irresistible inclination to laugh\novercame her. Forgetful of his head, he laughed with her.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" she said; \"I could not help laughing, though, to be\nsure, you seem in no laughing plight. I thought at first that you\nwere drowned.\"\n\n\"'Tis your doing, I think, that I am not. Did you find me in the\nwater?\"\n\n\"Half in and half out; and it took much pulling to get you wholly\nout.\"\n\nEstein impulsively drew a massive gold ring off his finger, and in\nthe gift-giving spirit of the times handed it to his preserver.\n\n\"I know not your name, fair maiden,\" he said, \"but this I know,\nthat you have saved my life. Will you accept this Viking's gift\nfrom me? It is all that the sea has left me.\"\n\n\"Nay, keep such gifts for those who deserve them. It would have\nbeen an unchristian act to let you drown.\"\n\n\"You use a word that is strange to me; but I would that you might\ntake this ring.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" she cried decidedly; \"it will be time enough to talk of\ngifts when I have earned them. Not,\" she added, a little proudly,\n\"that it is my wish to earn gifts. But you are wet and wounded;\ncome where I can give you shelter, poor though it be.\"\n\n\"Any shelter will seem good to me. Yet, ere I go, I would fain\nlearn something of my comrades' fate.\"\n\nHe scanned the sound narrowly, and in all its long stretch there\nwas not a sign of friend or foe. About a mile back the fatal reef,\nbared by the ebbing tide, showed its line of black heads high out\nof the water, but of ships there was no vestige to be seen. It was\nlong past mid-day by the sun, and he knew that he must have been\nunconscious for some hours. In that time, such of the Vikings as\nhad escaped the rocks had evidently sailed away, leaving only the\ndead in the sound.\n\n\"They are gone,\" he said, turning away, \"friends and foes--gone,\nor drowned, as I should have been, fair maid, but for you.\"\n\nThey scrambled together up the rocks, and then struck a winding\nsheep-path that led them over the shoulder of a heath-clad hill.\n\nAt first they walked in silence, the girl in front, going at a\ngreat speed up the narrow track; and Estein watched the wind blow\nher fair hair about her neck in a waving tangle, and he saw that\nshe was tall and slender. By-and-by, when they had crossed the\nhill and reached a less broken tract of ground, he came up to her\nside.\n\n\"How did you come to be down where you found me?\" he asked.\n\n\"I was on the hill,\" she answered, \"when I saw ships in the sound\nrowing hard to escape the current, and then I saw that some had\nbeen wrecked. Wreckage was floating by, and I espied, for my eyes\nare good, a man clinging to a plank; and presently he drifted upon\na rock, and I thought that perhaps I might save a life. So I went\ndown to the shore--and you yourself know the rest.\"\n\n\"I know, indeed, that I have to thank you for my life, such as it\nis. And I know further that every girl would not have been so\nkind.\"\n\nShe smiled, and her smile was one of those that illuminate a face.\n\n\"Thank rather the tide, which so kindly brought you ashore, for I\nhad done little if you had been in the middle of the sound. But\nyou have not yet told me how you came to be wrecked.\"\n\nEstein told her of the storm at sea and the fight with the\nVikings; how they had fallen man by man, and how he too would have\nbeen numbered amongst the dead but for the tideway and the rocks.\n\nAs she listened, her eyes betrayed her interest in the tale, and\nwhen he had finished, she said,--\n\n\"I have heard of Liot and Osmund. They are the most pitiless of\nall the robbers in these seas. Give thanks that you escaped them.\"\n\nHe asked her name, and she told him it was Osla, daughter of a\nNorse leader who had fought in the Irish seas, and had finally\nsettled in Ireland. There his daughter was born and passed her\nearly girlhood; and it was a trace of the Irish accent that Estein\nhad noticed in her speech. In one fatal battle her two brothers\nfell, her father was forced to fly from the land, and Osla had\nleft her Irish home with him and come to reside in Orkney.\n\n\"He is a holy Christian man,\" she said. \"Once he was a famous\nViking, and his name was well known in the west seas. Now, he\nwould even have his name forgotten, and he is only known as\nAndreas, which was the name of one of the blessed apostles; and\nhere we two live in a little lonely island, keeping aloof from all\nmen, and striving to live as did the early fathers.\"\n\n\"That must be a quiet life for you,\" said Estein.\n\n\"I sometimes think so myself,\" she answered with a smile. \"And\nwhat do men call you?\"\n\nFor an instant Estein hesitated. The thought passed through his\nmind, \"She must not know me as son to the King of Sogn till I have\ndone some deed more worthy of a prince of Yngve's line than lose a\nbattle with two Orkney Vikings.\" Then he said, \"I am called\nVandrad; [Footnote: The Unlucky.] from my youth up I have been a\nsea-rover, and I fear I may prove ill suited to your father's\ncompany.\"\n\n\"My father has met sea-rovers before,\" she said, with a smile in\nher eye.\n\nBy this time they had nearly crossed the island, and Estein saw\nbefore them another long sound. On the far side of this lay a\nlarge and hilly island that stretched to his left hand as far as\nhis eye could reach, and on the right broke down at the end of the\nstrait into a precipitous headland, beyond which sparkled the open\nsea. In the middle of the sound a small green islet basked like a\nsea monster in the evening sunshine.\n\nAs they stood on the top of the descent that ran steeply to the\nsea, he cast his eyes around for any signs of life on sea or on\nshore. Below him, and much to the left, a cluster of small houses\nround a larger drinking-hall marked the residence of a chieftain\nof position; on the island across the water lay a few scattered\nfarms; and on the little islet his eye could just discern a faint\nwreath of smoke. The seas were deserted, and the atmosphere seemed\ncharged with an air of calm loneliness.\n\n\"That is my home,\" said Osla, pointing to the little green island.\n\"The early fathers called it the Holy Isle. Our house is an\nanchorite's cell, and our lands, as you see, are of the smallest.\nAre you content to come to such a place?\"\n\nEstein smiled. \"If you dwell there, I am content,\" he said.\n\nOsla tossed her head with what quite failed to be an air of\nimpatience.\n\n\"Such things are easy to say now,\" she said. \"If you say them\nagain after you have lived on a hermit's fare for one whole day, I\nmay begin to believe you.\"\n\nThey descended the hill, and in a little creek on the shore came\nupon a skiff.\n\n\"This is our long ship,\" said Osla. \"If you wish to show your\ngratitude, you may assist me to launch her.\"\n\n\"Now,\" she said, when Estein had run the boat into the water, \"you\ncan rest while I row you across.\"\n\n\"It has never been my custom to let a girl row me,\" he replied,\ntaking the oars.\n\n\"But your wounds?\"\n\n\"If I have any I have forgotten them.\"\n\n\"Well, I will let you row, for the tide is at the turn, and you\nwill not need to watch the currents. There is a great roost here\nwhen the tide is running.\"\n\nEstein laughed. \"I see that I am with a skilful helmsman,\" he\nsaid.\n\n\"And I, that I am with an over-confident crew,\" she answered.\n\nOnly a distant corncrake broke the silence of the lonely channel,\nits note sounding more faintly as they left the land behind. The\nsun set slowly between the headlands to seaward, and by the time\nthey reached the shore of the islet the stillness was absolute,\nand the northern air was growing chill. Osla led the Viking up a\nslope of short sea-turf, and presently crossing the crest of the\nland, they came upon a settlement so strange and primitive that it\ncould scarcely, he thought, have been designed by mortal men.\n\nFacing the land-locked end of the sound, and looking upon a little\nbay, a cluster of monastic cells marked the northern limits of the\nChristian church. From this outpost it had for the time receded,\nand all save two of the rude stone dwellings looked deserted and\nforlorn. A thin thread of smoke rose straight heavenward in the\nstill air, and before the entrance of the cell whence it issued\nstood an old and venerable man. Despite a slight stoop, he was\nstill much beyond the common height of men. His brows were shaggy,\nand his grey beard reached well down over his breast; a long and\nvoluminous cloak, much discoloured by the weather, was bound round\nhis waist by a rope, and in his hand he carried a great staff.\n\nAs Estein approached, his brows bent in an expression of\ndispleased surprise, but he waited in silence till his daughter\nspoke.\n\n\"I have brought a shipwrecked seafarer, father,\" she said. \"He is\nwounded, I fear, and certainly he is both wet and hungry. I have\ntold him we would give him shelter and food, and such tending as\nhis wounds may require.\"\n\n\"Whence came he?\" asked the old man.\n\n\"From the sound beyond the island; at least, he was in the sound\nwhen I first saw him.\"\n\n\"And I have to thank your daughter that I am not there now,\"\nEstein added.\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"I am known as Vandrad, the son of a noble landowner in Norway.\"\n\nThe old man looked for a moment as though he would have questioned\nhim further on his family. Instead, he asked,--\n\n\"And why came you to these islands?\"\n\n\"For that, the wind and not I is answerable. Orkney was the last\nplace I had thought of visiting.\"\n\n\"You were wrecked?\"\n\n\"Wrecked, and wellnigh drowned.\"\n\nIn a more courteous tone the old man said, \"While you are here you\nare welcome to such cheer as we can give you. This cell is all my\ndwelling, but since you have come to this island, enter and rest\nyou in peace.\"\n\nStooping low in the doorway, Estein entered the abode of Andreas\nthe hermit. Lit only by a small window and the gleam of a\ndriftwood fire, the rude apartment was dusky and dim; yet there\nseemed nothing there that should make the sea-king pause at the\nthreshold. Was it but a smoke wreath that he saw, and did the wind\nrise with a sudden gust out of the stillness of the evening? It\nseemed to him a face that appeared and then vanished, and a far-off\nvoice that whispered a warning in his ear.\n\n\"Be not dismayed at our poverty; there is no worse foeman within,\"\nsaid Osla, with a touch of raillery, as he stood for a moment\nirresolute.\n\nEstein made no answer, but stepped quickly into the room. Had he\nindeed heard a voice from beyond the grave, or was it but the\nfancy of a wounded head? The impression lingered so vividly that\nhe stood in a reverie, and the words of his hosts fell unheeded on\nhis ears. He knew the face, he had heard the voice of old, but in\nthe kaleidoscope of memory he could see no name to fit them, no\nincident wherewith they might be linked.\n\nHe was aroused by the voice of Osla.\n\n\"Let us give him food and drink quickly, father. He is faint, and\nhears us not.\"\n\nThe tumultuous stir of battle was forgotten as they brought him\nsupper and gently bound his wounds. A kettle sang a drowsy song\nand seemed to lay a languid spell upon him, and, as in a dream, he\nheard the hermit offer up an evening prayer. The petitions,\neloquent and brief in his northern tongue, rose above the\nthrobbing of the roost outside, and died away into a prayerful\nsilence; and then, in the pleasant nicker of the firelight, they\nparted till the morrow.\n\nEstein and the hermit stepped out into the cool night.\n\n\"They who visit the Holy Isle must rest content with hard\npillows,\" said Andreas. \"Here in this cell you will find a blanket\nand a couch of stone. May Christ be with you through the night;\"\nand as he spoke he turned into his own bare apartment.\n\nEstein looked upward at the stars shining as calmly on him here as\non the sea-king who lately paced his long ship's deck; he listened\nfor a moment to the roost rising higher and moaning more uneasily;\nand then above both he saw a pair of dark blue eyes, and heard a\nvoice with just a touch of raillery in it. As he bent his head and\nentered his cell, he smiled to himself at the pleasantness of the\nvision.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE ISLAND SPELL.\n\n\nThe Holy Isle was bathed in morning sunshine, shadows of light\nclouds chased each other over the hills across the sound, and out\nbeyond the headlands the blue sea glimmered restfully.\n\nOn a bank of turf sloping to the rocks Estein sat with Osla,\ndrinking in the freshness of the air. She had milked their\nsolitary cow, baked cakes enough for the day's fare, and now, her\nsimple housekeeping over, she was free to entertain her guest.\n\n\"My father, I fear, is in a black mood,\" she said. \"His moods come\nand go, I know not why or when. To-day and perhaps to-morrow, and\nit may be for four days or more, he will sit in his cell or on the\ngrass before the door, speaking never a word, and hardly answering\nwhen I talk to him. Pay no heed to him; he means no\ninhospitality.\"\n\n\"I fear he likes me not,\" said Estein. \"He came here to escape\nmen, you say, and now he has to entertain a stranger and a\nViking.\"\n\n\"It is not that,\" she said. \"The black moods come when we are\nalone; they come sometimes with the rising storm, sometimes when\nthe sun shines brightest. I cannot tell when the gloom will fall,\nnor when he will be himself again. When his mind is well, he will\ntalk to me for hours, and instruct me in many things.\"\n\n\"Has he instructed you in this religion he professes? Know you\nwhat gods he worships?\"\n\nOsla opened her eyes in perplexed surprise; she hardly felt\nherself equal to the task of converting this pagan, and yet it\nwere a pity not to try. So she told him, with a woman's\nenthusiastic inaccuracy, of this new creed of love, then being so\nstrikingly illustrated in troubled, warlike Christian Europe.\n\n\"And what of the gods I and my ancestors have worshipped for so\nlong? What place have they in the Valhalla of the white Christ?\"\n\n\"There are no other gods.\"\n\n\"No Odin, no Thor, no Freya of the fair seasons, no Valhalla for\nthe souls of the brave? Nay, Osla, leave me my gods, and I will\nleave you yours. Mine is the religion of my kinsmen, of my father,\nof my ancestors. And,\" he continued, \"would you say that Christian\nmen are better than worshippers of Odin? Are they braver, are\ntheir swords keener, are they more faithful to their friends?\"\n\n\"We want not keen swords. Warfare is your only thought. You live\nbut to pillage and to fight. Have you known what it is to lose\nhome and brothers all in one battle? Have you fled from a smoking\nroof-tree? Have you had mercy refused you? Have you had wife or\nchild borne away to slavery? That is your creed--tell me, is it\nnot?\"\n\n\"I have thought of these things, Osla,\" said Estein gravely. \"I\nhave thought of them at night when the stars shone and the wind\nsighed in the trees. When I look upon my home and see the reapers\nin the fields, and hear the maidens singing at their work, I would\nsometimes be willing to turn hermit like your father, and sit in\nthe sun for ever.\n\n\"But,\" he went on, and his voice rose to a clear, stirring note,\n\"I could not rest long so. The sea calls us Northmen, and we\ncannot bide at home. Unrest seizes us like a giant and hurls us\nforth. We must be men; we must seek adventure on sea or on shore;\nthere are foemen to be met, and we long to meet them; and if we\nbear us bravely, never striking sail though the wind blow high,\nand never flinching from the greatest odds, we know that the gods\nwill smile, and, if they will, we die happy. We are not all\nbairn-slayers. I have been taught to spare where there was nothing\nworthy of my steel, and no maid or mother has yet suffered wrong\nat my hands. Yet must I sail the seas, Osla, and fight where I\nfind a foe; for I feel that the gods bid me, and a man cannot\nstruggle with his fate.\"\n\nWhile he spoke Osla's gaze was fixed on the turning tide, but her\neyes, had he seen them, were lit by the fire of his words. She\nsprang to her feet as he finished, and said,--\n\n\"I, too, have the Norse blood in me; the sea calls me as it calls\nyou; and if I were a man, I fear I should make a bad hermit.\nYet\"--and she held up a warning finger to stay the impetuous words on\nEstein's tongue--\"yet I know I should be wrong. What is this\nfeeling but the hunger of wolves, and what are your gods but names\nfor it? Wolves, too, go out to slay; and if they had speech,\ndoubtless they would say that Thor called them.\"\n\n\"Is a Viking not different from a wolf, then, in your eyes?\"\n\n\"By too little,\" she answered, \"if they hold the same creed.\"\n\n\"A wolf, then, I am,\" he replied; \"and I can but try to keep my\nlips drawn over my fangs and bit on my hind legs, and practise\nmanliness as best I may.\"\n\n\"A very hungry manliness,\" she retorted. But despite herself she\nsmiled, and then lightly turned the talk to other things.\n\nFrom day to day the quiet island life went on with few incidents\nand pleasant monotony. With only one family was there any\nintercourse, and that almost entirely on Osla's part. On the shore\nof the great island to the west, which men called Hrossey, dwelt a\nlarge farmer, named Margad, and from his household such supplies\nas they needed were obtained. He was an honest, peaceable man, as\nthe times went, with a kindly wife, Gudrun by name, and they both\ntook a friendly interest in the hermit's daughter. Estein would\nfain have lived in her society all day, listening to her talk and\nwatching the wind play with her hair, and every day he noticed,\nwith a sense of growing disappointment, that he saw her more\nseldom. Sometimes they would have long talks, and then, abruptly\nas it seemed to him, she would have to leave him, and he would\nspend his time in fishing from a boat, or would cross with her to\nHrossey, and while she went to see Dame Gudrun he pursued the\nroe-deer and moor-fowl.\n\nWith bow and arrow, and by dint of long and arduous stalks, he\nbrought home scanty but well-earned spoil, and then, either by\nhimself, or more often with Osla in the stern, he would cross the\nsound as the day faded, to a welcome supper and an evening spent\nin the firelit cell, or to a peaceful night beside the swirl of\nthe tideway under a sky so pale and clear that only the brightest\nstars were ever seen.\n\nHe knew that he was in love, hopelessly in love. Why else should\nhe stay in the Holy Isle after his wounds were healed, and when\nnothing bade him remain? Far away and faint sounded the echoes of\nwar and the shouts of revelry. Like memories of another life,\nthoughts of his father, of Helgi, of friends and kinsmen, came to\nhim, pricked him for a moment, and faded into a pair of dark-blue\neyes and a tall and slender figure. He still talked to Osla of\nvoyages and battles, and caught her sometimes taking more interest\nthan she would own in some old tale of derring-do, or a story of\nhis own adventures. Yet the actual memories of these things grew\nfainter, and he talked like an old man telling of his youth.\n\n\"I am under a spell,\" he would say to himself, and stride more\nquickly over the heather, and then catch himself smiling at the\nthought of some word or look of Osla's.\n\nThe hermit's black mood passed away, and was followed by an\nattitude of grave distance towards his guest. He spoke little, but\nalways courteously, and seemed to treat him at first merely as an\naddition to the live stock of the island.\n\nOne night Estein, after the manner of the skalds, sang a poem of\nhis own as they sat round the fire. He called it the \"King's War\nSong.\"\n\n\"On high the raven banner\nInvites the hungry kites,\nRed glares the sun at noon-tide,\nWild gleam the Northern lights;\nThe war-horn brays its summons,\nAnd from each rock-bound fiord\nCome the sea-kings of Norway,\nTo follow Norway's lord.\n\n\"The cloven arrow speeding,\nFraught with war's alarms,\nCalls the ravens to their feast,\nThe Udallers to arms.\nSee that your helms be burnished,\nSee that your blades be ground,\nWhen he of Yngve's kindred\nSends the war token round!\"\n\n\"Skoal, [Footnote: The Norse drinking salutation.] Vandrad!\nskoal!\" cried the hermit.\n\nHis hearers looked at him in amazement. His eyes flashed, his lips\ntwitched, the whole man was transformed for the moment into the\nViking of the western seas.\n\n\"Once I was a skald myself,\" he said. \"You have quickened what I\nthought was dead.\" And he rose and walked out into the night.\n\nFor a minute they were too surprised to speak. Then Osla said\nsoftly,--\n\n\"Your magic is too strong, Vandrad.\" She threw him one glance that\nlived long in his memory, and quickly followed her father.\n\nFor more than an hour afterwards he could dimly see them pacing\nthe shore in silence, her arm within the hermit's.\n\nNext day the old man was more silent and reserved than before, but\nevery now and then Estein saw that his eyes followed him, and the\nfew words he spoke were couched in a kindlier manner.\n\n\"Sing to him again,\" whispered Osla in the evening, and night\nafter night the young skald sang and the hermit and his daughter\nlistened. Sometimes when he was finished the old Viking would talk\non various themes. Brief glimpses of his earlier days, snatches of\nreligious converse, his travels, and the strange peoples he had\nseen, he would touch upon before the evening prayer.\n\nAnd so the time passed away, till Estein had spent six weeks in\nthe Holy Isle. All the while he had made no open love to Osla. She\nseemed merely friendly, and he was distracted between a wild\ndesire to break down the barriers between them and a strange and\nnumbing feeling of warning that held him back, he knew not why. So\nstrong was it at times that he fancied two spells cast upon him,\none by the island maiden, the other by some unknown spirit.\n\nOne morning he found her wandering by the cliffs that formed the\nseaward barrier of the isle.\n\n\"Let us sit here, Osla,\" he said. \"I have a new song to sing you.\"\n\n\"I must bake my cakes,\" she answered. \"Can you not sing it to us\nto-night?\"\n\n\"It concerns only you. Sit here but for a moment; it is not long,\nand you can escape from me when I have done.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" she said, with a smile and an air of resignation. \"I\nwill listen, but do not keep me long.\"\n\n\"If it will tire you, I can wait.\"\n\n\"You can try me.\"\n\n\"I must leave the Holy Isle soon, Osla; I have been too long away\nfrom my kinsfolk and my country. It is hard to part, but it must\ncome some day, and these verses are my parting song.\"\n\nShe was silent, and seemed intently plucking sea pinks.\n\n\"I cannot tell you why,\" he went on, \"but to-day I feel that my\nhour has come to rove again. I would that I might live here for\never, but I know it is not fated so.\"\n\nThen he sang his farewell song:--\n\n\"Canst thou spare a sigh, fair Osla? It is fated I must go. Wilt\nthou think of Vandrad ever When the sea winds hoarsely blow, Or\nwill the memory of my love With absence fainter grow?\n\n\"Canst thou spare a tear, sweet Osla, When I sail from this fair\nland? Wilt thou dream of Vandrad sometimes When the waves boom on\nthe strand? Can visions of a pleasant hour The march of time\nwithstand?\n\n\"Osla, when I bear me bravely, 'Midst the lightning of the sword,\nAnd the armies meet like torrents When the mountain snows have\nthawed The thought of thine approving smile Shall be my sole\nreward.\n\n\"Fare thee well, sweet blue-eyed Osla! The sea-king must not stay,\nE'en for tresses rich as summer And for smile as bright as May;\nBut one hope I cannot part from--We may meet again some day!\"\n\n\"Then are you going?\" she said, more softly than he had ever heard\nher speak before.\n\n\"Do you wish me to stay?\"\n\n\"Not if you wish to rove the seas again, and fight and plunder, as\na brave man should,\" she cried with a flash of raillery. \"If it is\nyour fate to go, why should I stand in the way? Am I anything to\nyou?\"\n\nShe gave him no time to answer, but rose and ran lightly away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nANDREAS THE HERMIT.\n\n\nThe same day Estein rowed across alone to Hrossey, and started\nover the hills with his bow and arrows. He walked for some miles\nthrough moorland ground, and paused at length on the top of a\nrange of hills, whence he had a wide view over the inland country.\nThere he sat down and mused for long. Below him he saw a valley\nopening out into a sweep of low-lying land, watered by many lochs,\nand bounded by heather hills. All round, in glimpses between the\nhighest hill-tops, and in wide, unbroken stretches over the lower\nranges, the open sea girdled the island. Gradually the stillness\nof the place and the freshness of the air told upon him, and at\nlength he fell asleep. He began to dream, at first of confused\nevents and hurrying faces, and then more distinctly and vividly.\nHe had landed, he thought, on the Holy Isle. It was dark, but he\nseemed to see plainly a figure, wrapped in a long cloak, walking\nbefore him towards the cells. It was neither Andreas nor his\ndaughter, and with some wonder he quickened his steps and overtook\nit just as it was about to enter the hermit's cell. Then all at\nonce it seemed to flash upon him that this was no mortal visitor,\nand with a sudden thrill of fear he stopped. At that instant the\nfigure turned a shrouded face on him, and said sternly, and so\nclearly that the words were ringing in his ears when he woke,--\n\n\"What doest THOU here, Estein Hakonson?\"\n\nHe came to himself with a start, the sweat standing on his\nforehead. It was the second time he had heard the voice. Once\nbefore it had warned him when he first entered the hermit's cell,\nbut now as then he could find neither name nor circumstance to fit\nit.\n\nAll at once the prophecy of Atli came into his mind--\"You will be\nwarned, but you will heed not,\" and in spite of himself a feeling\nof gloom settled over his mind.\n\nA herd of deer browsed unheeded on a distant slope, the hours\npassed, and the sun sank low in the west, while he sat there\nalone.\n\nAt last he rose and retraced his steps back to the shore. The tide\nwas running strongly, he had a long and stiff pull to win his way\nacross, and the summer dusk that never reaches darkness in the\nnorth was gathering when he landed.\n\nHe looked round as though he expected to see a cloaked figure\nstart up out of the gloaming, but the island was deserted and\nstill. Before the cell he paused for an instant. \"You will not\nheed the warning,\" he repeated. \"Yet what is fated must be,\" and\nthen he entered.\n\nThe hermit was alone. Farmer Margad had come for Osla, for his\nwife was unwell, and the credulous people thought the daughter of\nthe wizard, as they deemed Father Andreas, might have some healing\ninfluence. Estein sat down and took his supper; and all the time\nhe was eating, Andreas paced the floor saying nothing aloud, but\nmuttering continually under his breath. Legends of shape-changing\nand black magic came into the young Viking's mind. As he watched\nthe old man pass to and fro in the firelight, and the huge,\ndistorted shadow sweep across and across the cell, he fancied once\nor twice that he could see the beginnings of some horrid\ntransformation.\n\nAll of a sudden the hermit stopped and looked at him earnestly.\n\n\"Sing to me a song of battle!\" he cried; and Estein saw that a\nchange had indeed taken place. A fit of gloom had given way to a\nperiod of strange excitement, and the spirit of the sea-rover was\nreturned.\n\nEstein composed his mind, and sang the song of the Battle of\nDunheath, beginning:--\n\n  \"Many the chiefs who drank the mead\n    As the sun rose over the plain,\n   But small the band who bound their wounds\n    When the heath was dark again.\"\n\nAs the last words died away the hermit began to talk excitedly and\nvolubly, and in a strain new to his guest.\n\n\"I once sang such songs,\" he said. \"I sailed the seas in my long\nship, and men feared my name--feared me, Andreas, the man of God.\nI was a heathen then, as thou art; I worshipped the gods of the\nNorth, and the hammer of Thor was my symbol on the ocean. I spared\nnone who stood in my way. These hands have dripped with the blood\nof my foes, and many a widow have I left desolate.\"\n\nHe paused, and a tongue of flame shot suddenly from the fire and\ncast a bright light in the cell.\n\n\"Fire!\" cried the old man--\"fire like that have I brought on my\nfoes! I have burned them like rats; I have left their homesteads\nsmouldering! Listen, Vandrad, and I shall tell thee of a deed that\nmade my name known throughout all the Northland. Now,\" he added,\n\"I am a Christian man, and my soul is safe with Christ.\n\n\"Once I received an injury I swore I should avenge. Hakon, King of\nSogn, a proud man and a stern, banished my brother Kolskegg for\nmanslaughter. The deed was but an act of justice on one who had\nbeguiled our kinswoman; but the dead man had many friends, and the\nking hearkened neither to Kolskegg's offers of atonement nor to my\npetitions--to mine, who had never asked aught of mortal man\nbefore! My brother was a dear friend of the king, foster-father\neven to his eldest son Olaf, and he weakly bowed his head and left\nthe land. When I heard that he had gone, I pressed my sword-hilt\nso tightly in my rage that the blood dripped from my nails, and I\ncursed him aloud for idly suffering such insult to our house to\npass without revenge. Our race is as old and proud as the kings of\nSogn themselves, and I vowed that Hakon should rue that day. I was\na heathen then, Vandrad.\"\n\nHe said these last words with a gleam in his eyes and a tightening\nof his lips, as if he gloated over the memory of his bygone faith.\nWith the same grim reminiscent pleasure, he went on: \"I and two\nothers sent the cloven arrow through the dales, and gathered armed\nmen enough to fill three ships. Ay, the sailing of Thord the Tall,\nSnaekol Gunnarson, and Thorfin of Skapstead is not forgotten yet\nin Norway. We went to Laxafiord, for there dwelt Olaf, son of\nHakon. You have heard the tale?\" he cried suddenly, \"you know of\nthe burning?\"\n\n\"Go on,\" said Estein, in a hard, dry voice; \"I am listening,\" and\nall the while his right hand sought his side.\n\n\"It was a deed,\" said the hermit, \"that made all Norway ring. We\nlanded in the night time, and saw the lights of the hall between\nthe pine trees. They were feasting, and they heard not our\napproach. We made a ring round the house and heaped faggots\nagainst the walls, and still they heard us not. It was a dark\nnight, Vandrad, very dark, till we lit a fire that was seen by men\nin the outer islands. Then they heard us, they smelt the smoke,\nand they ran to the doors. The first man who came out I clove to\nthe waist, for none in Norway had greater skill at arms than I.\nThen we drove them in and closed the door. Sometimes at night I\nhear them shriek even now. There was never such a burning in\nNorway; we spared not one soul, not one.\n\n\"They asked us to let the women out, but we had come there to slay\nand not to spare. They shrieked, Vandrad; they cried till the roof\nfell in, and then they died. My soul is safe with God, and they\nare in outer darkness. There they will shriek for ever.\"\n\nHe paused for a moment, and then went on in the same strain of\nhigh excitement,--\n\n\"Now you know me. I am Thord the Tall, the burner of Olaf\nHakonson.\"\n\n\"And where are Snaekol Gunnarson and Thorfin of Skapstead?\" Estein\nspoke with difficulty, and his right hand had closed on something\nin his belt.\n\n\"Both are dead. They died heathens, and their souls are as\nhopelessly lost as the soul of Olaf Hakonson. I am the last of the\nburners.\"\n\nThe voice of Thord the Tall died away. Estein bent forward, his\nhand left his side, and something in it gleamed in the firelight.\n\nSuddenly the hermit started.\n\n\"Osla! I hear Osla!\" he said.\n\nEstein thrust his dagger into its sheath, and bending in the\ndoorway stepped out into the night. Below the cell he saw a boat\nleaving the land, and right before him, in the clear, cool\ntwilight, the form of Osla.\n\n\"Have you tired of my father's company?\" she asked, with a smile.\n\n\"I would be alone,\" he answered, and walked quickly past her.\n\nNow he knew the twice-heard voice, and remembered the fleeting\nface.\n\n\"You came to warn me, Olaf, and I knew you not!\" he cried. \"I know\nyou now--too late!\"\n\nHe paced the turf with hurried steps. The sacred duty of revenge\ncalled him with a vehemence we cannot now realize. He had sworn to\nlet slip no chance of taking vengeance on the burners of his\nbrother. Often he had sought news of them, and often renewed his\nresolution; and now that he had found his foe, was he to idly\nsuffer him to escape?\n\nYet he had been this man's guest; he had eaten of his bread, and\nslept in his dwelling. And his hands were tied by a stronger\nchain. \"Osla, Osla,\" he cried, \"for your sake I am faithless to my\nvows, and forgetful of my duty to my kindred!\"\n\nThen the memory of Thord the Tall, telling of the burning, rose\nfresh and strong, and again his hand sought his side, and his\nbreath came fast, till the vision of Osla swept aside all other\nthoughts.\n\nThe time went by until the hour was hard on midnight. Gradually\nhis mind grew more composed.\n\n\"I am in the hands of destiny,\" he said to himself. \"Let fate do\nwith me what it will.\"\n\nAll the northern sky was still red with the afterglow of sunset,\ncreeping slowly eastwards against the dawn; land and sea lay clear\nand yet dim, for the light was ghostly as a phosphorescent\nchamber; the tide was slack, and lapped softly on the rocks; and\neverything in the world seemed tranquil.\n\n\"The end has come,\" he said.\n\nAll at once, on the sheen of the sound, he spied a curious black\nmark, far out and vague. Gradually it seemed to steal nearer, till\nEstein, looking at it keenly, forgot his thoughts in a rising\ncuriosity. Then it took shape, and faintly across the water came\nthe splash of oars and the voices of men. As they drew nearer, he\ncrouched below a bank and watched their approach with growing\nwonder and something too of awe.\n\n\"The gods have sent for me,\" he thought.\n\nThey were being carried by the current towards the place where he\nstood, and presently they made a landing on the rocks. There\nfollowed a consultation in low tones, and then one man left the\nboat and came up the bank. He stood out clearly in the transparent\ndusk--a tall, mail-clad figure, walking with a confident carriage.\n\nEstein waited till he was opposite him, and then sprang up, dagger\nin hand.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" he demanded.\n\nThe man's hand went straight to his sword, but at the sound of\nEstein's voice it fell again.\n\n\"Estein, my foster-brother!\" he cried.\n\n\"Helgi!\"\n\nHelgi opened his arms and embraced him tenderly, speaking with an\nemotion he made no effort to control. \"Estein, my brother, I\nthought thou wert in truth in Valhalla. I have wept for thee,\nEstein; I have mourned thee as dead. Tell me that this is thy very\nself, and not some island ghost come to mock me.\"\n\nThe friendly voice and grasp, coming in this his hour of trouble,\ntouched Estein to the heart.\n\n\"It is I, indeed, Helgi,\" he said; \"and never have I felt more\nglad to see a face and clasp a hand. How came you here? I thought\nI had parted from my friends for ever. I have been so long alone\nthat they had begun to seem like dream-men.\"\n\nHelgi told him briefly how he had swum ashore to another island,\nand there been picked up by Ketill, the black-bearded captain of\none of Estein's scattered ships; how, giving up all hope, they had\nsailed for the south, and after meeting head winds and little\nluck, returned to the Orkneys, where, from a man who had been with\nMargad, news of the stranger on the Holy Isle had reached their\nears.\n\n\"They say, Estein, that your hermit has a fair daughter. Methinks\nshe would like to see your foster-brother; would she not?\"\n\n\"Nay, Helgi, ask me no more questions, but take me quickly away. I\nam spell-bound here, and I dare not trust myself to stay one\nmoment longer.\"\n\n\"I know these spells, Estein; they have been cast on men by other\nmaids before now. Better take your sorceress with you. It is\nunlucky to break such spells so rudely.\"\n\n\"Laugh not, Helgi,\" said Estein, taking his arm and hurrying him\ndown to the shore. \"This spell has meant more to me than you can\nguess.\"\n\n\"By the hammer of Thor!\" exclaimed Helgi, stopping suddenly,\n\"there surely is the witch herself.\"\n\nEstein looked round, and standing against the sky he saw the\nslender form he knew so well.\n\n\"Wait for me, Helgi,\" he said, \"the spell is on me still,\" and\nstarting away suddenly he ran up the bank again.\n\n\"Osla!\" he cried, and stopped abruptly.\n\n\"What means this, Vandrad?\" she asked.\n\nHer eyes were wide open with troubled surprise, and looking into\nher upturned face he thought she never was so fair before.\n\n\"They have come for me, Osla, and I must go. Farewell! remember me\nnot.\"\n\n\"Do you leave us in this way--without saying farewell, or telling\nus you were going?\"\n\n\"I knew not myself when they would come. I told you I must leave\nyou and seek the sea again. It has come true sooner than I\nexpected.\"\n\nHe took her hands.\n\n\"Farewell!\" he said again.\n\nShe turned her face away.\n\n\"I feared you would tire of us,\" she said, her voice sinking very\nlow.\n\n\"Never, Osla, never! but fate has been too strong for me. They\nwait for me now, and I must leave you.\"\n\n\"Farewell, Vandrad!\" she said, looking up, and he saw that her\neyes were filled with tears.\n\n\"Osla!\" he cried, drawing her towards him. She yielded an instant,\nand then suddenly broke free and started away.\n\n\"Farewell!\" she said again, and her voice sounded like a sob.\n\nHe did not trust himself to answer, but turned and hurried to the\nboat.\n\nThey pushed off in silence, the oars dipped in the quiet sound,\nand Estein left the Holy Isle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE HALL OF LIOT.\n\n\nAll through the small hours of the morning Estein sat on the poop\nin silence. Helgi, wrapped in his cloak, threw himself on the deck\nbeside him and fell asleep with a lightened heart, while the long\nship, slipping down the sound with the tide, turned westwards into\nthe swell of the Atlantic.\n\nGloom had settled over Estein's mind. The pleasantest memories\nwere distorted by the ghost of that old blood feud; his murdered\nbrother called aloud for vengeance; in the wash of the waves and\nthe creaking of the timbers he heard the hermit recite again the\nstory of the burning, and through it all a voice cried, \"Farewell!\nfarewell!\"\n\nThe sun at that season rises early. With it the breeze freshened,\nand one by one the sleeping figures in the waist woke, and began\nto stir about the ship. Still their leader sat silent.\n\nHelgi at length sat up with a start, and rubbed his eyes. He\nlooked at Estein, and smiled.\n\n\"Very much in love methinks,\" he said to himself.\n\nAt last Estein saw he was observed, and passing his hand across\nhis brow as if to sweep away his thoughts, asked wearily,--\n\n\"Where do we go now, Helgi?\"\n\n\"Your spell needs a violent remedy, and I have that on my mind\nthat may cure it. What say you to letting Liot Skulison know that\nhe did not slay us all? There are here two others besides\nourselves who escaped the fate of Thorkel and our comrades, and\nthey think they owe Liot something. Does revenge seem sweet?\"\n\n\"Then Liot is alive?\"\n\n\"Ay, Thor has spared him for us. The Orkney-man who led us to you\nhas an ancient feud against the bairn-slayers, and he tells me\nLiot and his men are feasting at his dwelling. Shall we fall upon\nthem to-night?\"\n\n\"You are a good physician, Helgi. Battle and storm are the best\ncures for such as I.\"\n\n\"I cannot give you a storm, I fear,\" laughed Helgi, \"but you can\nhave fighting enough to-night. Liot keeps two hundred men and more\nabout him, and we have here some seventy all told.\"\n\n\"We have faced greater odds together, Helgi. Life does not seem so\nfair to me now that I should shrink from odds of three to one. Let\nus seek Liot wherever he is, and when we have found him, tell him\nto arm as many men as he can muster. Then let our destiny weave\nits web for us.\"\n\nHelgi laughed again.\n\n\"That would be a good revenge--to let Liot slay the men of Estein,\na shipload at a time. If Odin wishes us to die, I shall try to\nmeet my fate stoutly, but I shall not help him in the slaying.\nNay, Estein, I can devise a better plan than yours.\"\n\nEstein smiled for the first time since he had come on board.\n\n\"So long as it gives me a good fight with stout foes, and with you\nat my side, I care not what plan you propose.\"\n\n\"There speaks yourself again!\" cried Helgi; \"and I think that ere\nlong you will meddle with my schemes. I will call Ketill and the\nOrkneyman, and we four will hold council here.\"\n\nKetill, the broad-beamed captain of the ship--the same whose path\nhad been stopped by Atli--a man of few words and stout deeds, and\nGrim, the Orkneyman, came up to the poop. There they deliberated\nfor long. Helgi was all for fire.\n\n\"Let us hear how the men of Liot will sing when they are warm.\"\n\nKetill gave a short laugh.\n\n\"I, too, am for burning,\" he said.\n\n\"We must catch them when they are drinking,\" said Grim. \"When\nLiot's feasts are over many men go to sleep in outhouses round the\nhall, and we have not force enough here to surround them all at\nonce.\"\n\n\"I will have no more burnings,\" said Estein.\n\n\"When had we our last?\" asked Helgi. \"You speak as though we had\ndone naught but burn foes all our lives. We have never had a\nburning before, Estein, and it is better to begin as the burners\nthan the burned.\"\n\n\"I have lately heard tell of another. It is no work for brave\nmen.\"\n\nHelgi shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"Let us drown them then,\" he said.\n\nKetill gave another short, gruff laugh.\n\n\"Nay, Ketill, I am not jesting; in truth I am in little humour for\nthat. If seventy brave men cannot clear a hall of two hundred\ndrinkers, what virtue lies in stout hearts and sharp swords? We\nwill enter the hall, you from one end and I from the other, and I\nthink the men of Liot Skulison will not have to complain of too\npeaceful an evening.\"\n\n\"We must catch them, then, while they are feasting. Afterwards it\nwill be too late, with only seventy men,\" the wary Grim replied.\n\n\"We can choose our hour,\" said Estein; \"and whatever plan we fall\non, it seems we must be in time.\"\n\nHelgi laughed lightly.\n\n\"I thought you would leave us little say, Estein, when once you\nwere aroused,\" he said. \"'Tis all the same to me. Fire, sword, or\nwater--choose what you will, you will always find me by your side;\nand if you must go to Valhalla, why, I will blithely bear you\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Fire were better,\" said Ketill, shaking his head.\n\nThe day was still young when the council of war came to an end,\nand as they had more than sufficient time to reach the hall of\nLiot before night, the bows were turned to the open sea, that they\nmight better escape observation. Once they had got some miles from\nland they turned southwards, and striking the sail, to make as\nlittle mark as they could, moved slowly under oars alone. All day\nthe long ship rolled in a great ground-swell, the western cliffs\nof Orkney now hidden by a wall of water, and now glinting in the\nsunshine as they rose from trough to crest, and right ahead the\ndistant Scottish coast drawing gradually nearer. As the afternoon\nwore on they turned landwards again, and towards evening found\nthemselves coasting a mountainous island lying to the south of\nHrossey.\n\n\"What do men call this?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"They call it Haey, the high island, and it is on a bay to the\nsouth of it that Liot Skulison dwells,\" answered Grim, their pilot\nfor the time.\n\nThey drew closer and closer to the land, until a towering line of\ncliffs rose for more than a thousand feet right above their heads.\nIt was a stern and sombre coast, unbroken by any bays or inland\nglimpses, and gloomy and terrible in the fading light. The great\noily swell broke into spouts of foam at the cliff-foot, and all\nalong the face of the precipice they could see innumerable sea-fowl\nclinging to the rock.\n\nGradually, as they sailed along this hostile land, a light sea-fog\nbegan to gather. The leaders of the hazardous expedition watched\nit closing in upon them with growing apprehension.\n\n\"What say you, Grim?\" said Helgi; \"can you take us to Liot in this\nmist?\"\n\nGrim looked round him doubtfully.\n\n\"Methinks I can take you there,\" he said, \"but I fear we shall be\ntoo late, we can move but slowly; and with only seventy men, I\ndoubt we shall do little when the men of Liot have left the\nfeast.\"\n\nEstein had been standing in silence near the tiller. At these\nwords he turned and cried fiercely,--\n\n\"Who talks of doing little? Liot or I shall fall to-night, though\nthe blackness of death were round us. Think you I have come to sit\nhere idly in a fog? Tell your men to row like valiant Vikings,\nKetill, and not like timorous women.\"\n\nThe respect due to rank in Norway was little more than the proud\nNorseman chose to pay, and it was with small deference to his\nprince that Ketill answered,--\n\n\"You are fey, I think, Estein. I shall not lose my ship that you\nmay the sooner feed the fishes.\"\n\n\"Are you, too, afraid? By the hammer of Thor! I think you are in\nleague with Liot. I shall make these cravens row.\"\n\n\"That you will not,\" replied Ketill.\n\nIn an instant both swords were half-drawn. The men within earshot\nwere too much surprised at this sudden change from Estein's usual\nmanner to his followers to do more than look in astonishment at\nthe dispute, and in another instant the blades would have clashed,\nwhen Helgi rushed between them.\n\n\"What is this?\" he cried. \"Are you possessed of evil spirits, that\nyou would quarrel on the eve of battle? Remember, Ketill, that\nEstein is your prince; and Estein, my brother, what ails you? You\nare under a spell indeed. Would that I had slain the witch ere you\nparted. You can gain nothing by wrecking the ship, and this fog is\ntoo dense to row a race off such a coast as this.\"\n\nPerhaps it was the allusion to the \"witch\" that brought Estein to\nhis senses, for his eyes suddenly softened.\n\n\"I was wrong, Ketill,\" he said. \"The wrath of the gods is upon me,\nand I am not myself.\"\n\nHe turned away abruptly, and gazed moodily into the fog; while\nKetill, with the look of one who is dealing with a madman, left\nthe poop.\n\n\"It is ill sailing with a bewitched leader,\" he muttered.\n\nThe idea that Estein was under a spell took rapid hold of the\nsuperstitious crew. They told each other that this was no earthly\nmist that had fallen on them, and listening to the break of the\nsea on the cliffs, they talked low of wizards and sea-monsters,\nand heard strange voices in the sound of the surge. Then they\nbecame afraid to row at more than a snail's pace, and sometimes\nalmost stopped altogether. In vain Helgi went amongst them, and\nurged that Grim knew these waters so well that there was little\ndanger, in vain he pointed to the hope of booty and revenge ahead;\neven as he spoke there was a momentary break in the mist, and they\nsaw the towering cliff so close above them that his words were\nwasted.\n\n\"There is witchcraft here,\" they said; and Ketill was as obstinate\nas the rest. The ship crept under the cliffs with hardly any way\non at all, and Helgi, in despair, saw the golden hour slipping by.\n\n\"Oh, for two more good ships,\" he thought: \"then we could wait\ntill daylight, and fall upon them when we pleased.\"\n\nEstein had again fallen a prey to his thoughts. In his gloomy\nfatalism he thought that the wrath of the gods pursued him for the\nneglect of his duty to his murdered brother, and he submitted to\nthe failure of this adventure as the beginning of his punishment.\nThe fighting fire died out, the longing for action was choked, and\nin their place what was as nearly a spell as can fall on mortal\nmen had fallen on him. His devoted friend fumed impatiently beside\nhim as the fog grew denser and the hours went slowly by, and\nbitterly he cursed the enchantress of the Holy Isle.\n\n\"He talks of the gods,\" he said to himself. \"This is no work of\ntheirs; it is the magic of that island witch, may the trolls take\nher!\"\n\n\"The fog lifts!\" cried Grim from his post at the tiller.\n\nThe men heard the cry, and ceasing their awestruck talk, looked\neagerly at the fast-widening rifts in the white shroud. Ghost-like\nwreaths detached themselves, flitted by the ship, and then\ndissipated in thin air. The summer night sky with its pale stars\nappeared in lakes above, and below, the fog rose from the water\nlike steam. Presently the great cliffs came out clear and terrible\nin the midnight dusk, and the men cried that the spell was broken.\n\nOver Estein came the greatest change. As the fog lifted, the light\nreturned to his eye, and he turned eagerly to Grim.\n\n\"Where are we now? Have we yet time to catch Liot at his feast?\"\n\nThe pilot shook his head.\n\n\"It will take us full two hours to reach the bay where Liot\ndwells, and the feast, I fear, will have ended even now, for the\nhour is late.\"\n\nHelgi's face fell, and he muttered a deep imprecation as he turned\nto Estein.\n\n\"What think you?\" he asked; \"shall we run for some distant bay,\nand return to-morrow night?\"\n\n\"I have come to meet Liot to-night,\" Estein replied, and turning\naway he paced the deck in deep thought.\n\nHelgi's cheerfulness returned in an instant. He hummed an air, and\nleaning against the bulwark awaited the march of events with his\nusual careless philosophy.\n\n\"The men were right,\" he thought; \"it was a magic mist. The spell\nhas lifted with the fog. It wants but a brisk fight now to cure\nhim.\"\n\nA grim smile stole over Estein's face, and presently he stopped\nbeside Grim, and said,--\n\n\"Know you where Liot sleeps in this hall of his?\"\n\n\"Ay; I was forced to follow him for two years, and I know well his\nsleeping chamber.\"\n\n\"Can you lead us to it in the dark?\"\n\nGrim looked at him doubtfully before answering.\n\n\"I think so,\" he said at length.\n\n\"But are you sure?\"\n\nThe pilot looked round him.\n\n\"The night is light,\" said he, \"and there will still be some fire\nin the hall. But it will be a dangerous venture.\"\n\nEstein turned impatiently.\n\n\"Methinks you have little feud with Liot,\" he said, and went over\nto where Helgi stood.\n\n\"Well?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"I have a plan.\"\n\n\"Have you resolved on a burning? This cursed fog has made me cold,\nand a fire would like me well.\"\n\n\"You have heard my rede on burnings, Helgi. My scheme is to carry\noff Liot in his sleep. They will keep no watch. The very dogs will\nbe drunk, and I think it will not be so difficult as it seems.\nWill you come with me into Liot's hall?\"\n\nHelgi's blue eyes opened wide, and he laughed as he said,--\n\n\"There has never been your match for enterprise in the north,\nEstein. Your plans seem all so chosen that your foes may have the\ngreatest chance to slay you. Are we to leave you in Liot's place?\"\n\n\"I asked if you would follow me.\"\n\n\"You know the answer to that already. But why trouble with Liot's\ncarcass? Surely it were easier to slay him where he lies.\"\n\n\"I like not a midnight murder, and Liot and I have not yet decided\nwho is the better man. That is a trial which I would fain make,\nand then we can see what the gods would do with me.\"\n\n\"To fight an enemy and capture him afterwards is common enough,\nbut to capture him first and then fight him seems the act of a\nmadman,\" answered Helgi.\n\n\"Then I am a madman,\" replied Estein, and with that he turned away\nand walked forward to consult Ketill.\n\nHe was impelled by his creed of morbid fatalism to seek this test,\nwhereby his fate might be sharply decided. He longed, too, for\naction, and the idea, once held, fascinated him. But to all others\non board he seemed merely the victim of some insidious magic. That\nhe was under a spell Helgi had no manner of doubt.\n\n\"A fair fight,\" he thought, \"is always manlier than a secret\nslaying, but not Odin himself would fly away with the foe who had\nslain two shiploads of his followers, and afterwards challenge him\nto single combat. It is as if he should catch a thief who had\nstolen half his goods, and then throw dice with him for the rest.\nBut all spells act most banefully at night, they say; doubtless in\nthe morning Estein will rest content with giving him a fitting\nburial--if he catches him.\"\n\nAnd at the thought he laughed aloud.\n\n\"May I die in bed like a woman,\" he said to himself, \"if this be\nnot the strangest way of fishing for a Viking!\"\n\nKetill was at first for stoutly refusing the adventure; but Helgi,\nwhose convictions sat lightly on him compared with his attachment\nto Estein, persuaded him to consent.\n\n\"Are you afraid?\" he asked, and that question left no room for the\nproud Viking to hesitate.\n\nIt was about two hours after midnight when the long ship, stealing\nunder the shadow of the cliffs, turned into a small bay. It lay\nopen to the south, guarded on either side by a precipitous\nheadland, and withdrawn from the tideway and the swell of the\nwestern ocean. In the weird grey light of that June night the men\ncould see a valley opening out of great inland hills on to a more\nlevel strip of moorland at the head of the bay. On a spit of sandy\nbeach lay three warships, and on the slope of the hill to the left\nstood a small township of low buildings, clustering round the\nhigher drinking-hall of Liot Skulison.\n\nIn dead silence they hugged the shore as closely as their pilot\ndared.\n\n\"We are as close inshore as we can win,\" he said at length in a\nlow voice.\n\nThe boat was stealthily launched, and into it as many men as it\nwould hold were crowded.\n\n\"Keep the rowers on their benches, we may have little time to get\naway,\" said Ketill in a gruff whisper to his forecastle man, whom\nhe left in command of the ship.\n\n\"We have little wish to be caught.\"\n\n\"Push off, men, and remember he who speaks above a whisper I shall\nthink is tired of life.\"\n\nThe oars dipped and the boat crept slowly landwards.\n\n\"You know the landing, Grim?\"\n\nGrim, who sat at the tiller, merely nodded; and presently the bows\ngrated on a strip of gravel beach.\n\n\"The trolls take you!\" muttered Ketill. \"Could you not have told\nus to slacken speed? The dead could hear a landing like this.\"\n\n\"'Tis all right yet, Ketill,\" whispered Estein. \"We are too far\nfrom the hall.\"\n\n\"By the hammer of Thor!\" growled the black-bearded captain, whose\ntemper was ever of the shortest, \"these men splash like cattle.\"\n\nOne by one they stepped ashore, and then the party was divided.\nOne man was left in charge of the boat; Ketill with three others\nwent round to where the long ships lay; while Estein, Helgi, and\nGrim, with six picked men, cautiously approached the hall.\n\nThey crossed a strip of rising heather and struck a sharp slope of\nturf. Close above them loomed a dark mass of building, and the\nsilence was unbroken save by the stealthy fall of their footsteps.\nGrim led the way, then came Estein, then Helgi, and the others\nfollowed in single file.\n\nWarily they came up to the end of the hall, and under the door\nthere was a brief pause. Estein gave his final instructions in a\nwhisper, and then quickly pushing open the door, he stepped in.\nHelgi, Grim, and one man followed, while the other five waited\noutside with their weapons in their hands.\n\nThese old Norse drinking-halls were long and high rooms, with\ngreat fires down the middle, and beside them long lines of benches\nfor the guests. All down the sides the sleeping chambers opened,\nand over these hung the arms of the warriors.\n\nThe hall of Liot was very dark and still. A ghostly flicker of\nlight struggled through the narrow windows, and on the fires the\nembers slowly died. Beside the benches slumbered the forms of some\nof the heaviest drinkers, and once or twice they nearly stumbled\nover these. Grim came up beside Estein and led him about half-way\ndown the hall. There he stopped and pointed to a door. There were\nno words; the others closed up and loosened their daggers in their\nsheaths. Estein stepped back softly to the fire and lifted up a\nlog, one end of which still glowed brightly, and then he pushed\nopen the door. The chamber was dark as a wolf's mouth as he groped\nfor the bed. So cautiously he stepped that the heavy breathing of\nthe sleeper only broke the silence, and very carefully he went\nforward and thrust the log so close to the unconscious slumberer\nthat he could clearly read his features. Then he placed it against\nthe wall, and gave one whispered order. In an instant a mantle was\ntwisted round Liot's mouth, his hands and feet were bound, and ere\nhe was thoroughly awake, he was mounted on the shoulders of his\nfoes, forming one of a singular procession that hurried through\nthe hall of Liot Skulison.\n\nGrim, who walked first, had almost reached the door, when from the\nblackest of the shadows a man stepped suddenly across his path.\nFor an instant the pilot's heart stood still. Then he saw that he\nhad only to deal with a half-awakened drinker, and as his mouth\nwas framing a question, Grim's dagger flashed, and with a cry the\nman fell heavily on the floor. Instantly there arose such a chorus\nof barking as might have wakened the dead.\n\n\"The dogs are sobering,\" said Helgi.\n\n\"Hasten!\" cried Estein. \"The men will be on us.\"\n\nThey hurried through the door, and bearing their captive on their\nshoulders, the whole party broke into a run.\n\n\"The dogs are after us!\" cried one.\n\n\"Turn and kill them,\" said Estein.\n\nThree men stopped, and with a few sweeping sword slashes scattered\nthe yelping crowd; but even as they were driving them off, they\ncould see that men were coming out of the hall and outhouses.\n\n\"Where is Ketill?\" cried Estein, as they reached the boat.\n\nThe man in charge had seen nothing of him.\n\n\"May werewolves seize him!\" exclaimed Helgi. \"He has had time\nenough to tear the long ships plank from plank.\"\n\n\"We have no time to wait for him; it is his fault if he be left,\"\nsaid Grim.\n\n\"That knowledge would doubtless comfort him,\" replied Estein; \"but\nnevertheless I shall wait.\"\n\n\"Here they come!\" cried Helgi.\n\n\"And here come those who will reach us before them,\" said another\nman.\n\nHe was right. A swarm of men were already running down the slope,\nand it was clear that they must reach the boat first.\n\nEstein sprang on board.\n\n\"Push off!\" he cried; \"we will row along the shore to meet them.\"\n\n\"Well thought of,\" said Helgi; \"'tis lucky we have one cool head\nwith us.\"\n\nThe pursuers at first either failed to see Ketill's party, or\nmistook them for their own men, for they continued their headlong\nrush straight to the water, firing arrows and darts as they ran.\nThen they saw the manoeuvre, and turned with loud cries along the\nshore. The boat had got a start by this time; the rowers bent\ntheir backs and made her spring like a live thing, and the still\nwater rose in oily waves from the bow. But fast as they pulled,\nthe men on shore ran faster.\n\n\"By all the gods, we are too late!\" cried Helgi.\n\n\"They take to the water!\" said Estein. \"Pull, men, pull! Oh, 'tis\na night worth living for!\"\n\nThe four swimmers stoutly struck out for dear life, to a splashing\naccompaniment of darts and stones.\n\n\"By the hammer of Thor! they will be struck as we take them on\nboard,\" exclaimed Helgi. \"Friend Ketill makes a generous mark.\"\n\n\"Round them!\" said Estein. \"Get between them and the shore.\"\n\nGrim pressed the tiller hard down, and circling round the swimmers\nthey were presently hauling them in on the sheltered side. Then\nthe crowd on shore set off for their ships. Ketill, dripping with\nwater, and bleeding from an arrow wound on the shoulder, watched\nthem with a grim smile.\n\n\"They will find their ships ready for sea,\" he said.\n\nAs he spoke a tongue of flame shot up from one of the long ships,\nand Estein turned to him in surprise.\n\n\"Then you set them on fire?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" replied Ketill; \"we slew some guards--who thereby learned\nnot to sleep at their posts--and made such holes in the ships as\nwill take them two days to patch. Then I bethought me it were well\nto have a burning, if it were only of a long ship; so we kindled\nthree great fires, one for each vessel, and if the men of Liot\nfeel cold to-night, it will not be my fault. But have you got\nLiot?\"\n\n\"Here he is,\" said Estein, pointing to the pinioned captive.\n\nKetill laughed loud and long.\n\n\"Estein,\" he cried, \"I ask your pardon. You may be under a spell,\nbut you have given us a merry night's work. We have earned a long\ndrink.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE VERDICT OF THE SWORD.\n\n\nA shout of congratulation rose from the ship as the boat drew near\nand the anxious watchers counted the fourteen men returned again\nwith their prisoner. Drink was served round in huge beakers, and\nthe superstitious fears vanished like the fog as they rowed in\ntriumph out of the bay.\n\nThey could see behind them the flames and smoke rising ever higher\nfrom the burning vessels, and as the ale mounted to their heads\nthey shouted derisive defiance across the water.\n\n\"Where shall we go now?\" asked Grim.\n\n\"Do you know of any uninhabited holm where we could land by\ndaybreak?\" said Estein.\n\n\"There are many such about the Orkneys; one I know well, which\nmethinks we should reach soon after sunrise. There I shall take\nyou.\"\n\nKetill came up at that moment with a great horn of ale, and cried,\nwith a joviality only shown when drink flowed freely,--\n\n\"Drink, Estein, drink!--drink to the soul of Liot Skulison, which\nshall shortly speed to Valhalla. Shall we slay him now, or keep\nthat sport till we have better light to see him die?\"\n\n\"I have other work on hand than drinking. Liot and I have an\naccount to settle at daybreak.\"\n\nKetill stared at him in astonishment.\n\n\"You mean then in very truth to fight?\" he cried. \"Well, do as you\nwish; but it is a strange spell.\"\n\nHe left the poop with his horn, and Estein seated himself on a\nstool, and leaning back against the bulwarks, tried to rest.\n\nHis face was set, his mind made up, and he only waited impatiently\nfor the hour of his trial. Sleep came to him in uneasy snatches,\nduring which he seemed to pass years of wild adventure, haunted\nall the time by strangely distorted Oslas. He woke at last to the\nchill of a grey morning and the roll of a Viking ship. With a\nlittle shiver he started to his feet, and began to pace the deck.\n\nPresently Helgi joined him, and laid his hand on his arm.\n\n\"Estein,\" he said, \"tempt not your fate too far. Never before have\nI seen witchcraft such as this. Why should you fear the wrath of\nthe gods? I tell you, my brother, you are under a spell; let us\nseek some magician who will cure you, and not rashly look for\ndeath when you are wearied with sleepless nights and black magic.\nIf the wrath of the gods is really on you, it will fall were you\nto flee from men and seek refuge in the loneliest cave on all\nthese coasts. I will slay Liot Skulison for you; in fair fight if\nyou will, though I think not he deserves such a chance. Was it a\nfair fight when he fell on our two ships with his ten?\"\n\n\"I would slay him, Helgi, like a dog, were it not that something\nwithin me bids me ask in this wise the wishes of Odin.\"\n\n\"'Tis the voice of yon witch.\"\n\n\"She is no witch, Helgi, only the fairest girl in all the North.\nListen, and I will tell you the story of this spell; but remember\nit is to you alone I tell it, and never must another know of my\nshame.\"\n\n\"Have you ever known me betray your trust?\"\n\n\"Never, Helgi, my brother, or you would not hear this tale. To me\nit seems the story of six years of my life, though it was scarcely\nas many weeks; but I shall make it as brief as I may.\"\n\n\"The hour is yet early.\"\n\n\"After the battle, Helgi, I should have been drowned but for that\nmaid you saw. She saved my life, and that at least I owe her. She\nbrought me to the abode of her father, the hermit of the Holy\nIsle; and there I learned to love her. For six weeks I was no\nViking. I forgot my kinsfolk and my country, forgot all but Osla.\"\n\n\"Call you not that a spell?\"\n\n\"Did you not say yourself that you had known many spells like\nthat, cast on men by maids? It was the magic of love that\nentangled me.\"\n\n\"Men said the hermit was a wizard.\"\n\n\"No wizard, Helgi, or he had never let me come there. He was a\nmoody and fitful old man. I pleased him with my songs, talked to\nhim of the strange religion he professes--for he is what men call\na Christian--and grew in time to think of him as a friend.\n(Verily, I think there must have been magic!) All this while I\nspoke no word of love to Osla, though I think she was not\nindifferent to me.\"\n\n\"It was easy to see that.\"\n\n\"Twice on that island a voice I could not name warned me from\nbeyond the grave, but I heeded it not. (Can the man have been a\nwizard?) One night--it was the night you landed, Helgi--I sat\nalone with the hermit. Something had moved him to talk. I remember\nnow! it was a song I sung myself. He told me a tale of a burning.\n\n\"Helgi, he had hardly begun ere I knew the end, and could name my\nwarning voice. The tale was the burning of Laxafiord, and the\nvoice was my brother Olaf's.\"\n\n\"And the hermit?\"\n\n\"Is Thord the Tall, the last of the burners.\"\n\n\"Is! Then you slew him not?\"\n\n\"My dagger was drawn, I was bending towards him, when I heard\nwithout the steps of Osla. I fled--ask me not what I thought or\nwhat I did. Thord the Tall and I both live, and I would know\nwhether the gods would have it so. Wherefore I meet Liot this\nmorning.\"\n\n\"Then you have spared Olaf's burner for the sake of the burner's\ndaughter?\"\n\n\"I had eaten his bread and shared his dwelling for six weeks, and\nbut for that daughter I had never lived to meet him.\"\n\n\"He slew your brother, Estein.\"\n\n\"There is no need to remind me of that.\"\n\n\"Methinks there is; he still lives.\"\n\n\"And I still love his daughter.\"\n\nEstein turned away as he spoke, and gazed with folded arms over\nthe grey waters.\n\nHelgi looked at him in silence; then he went up to his side.\n\n\"Forgive me, Estein,\" he said, \"and let Odin judge you. I love you\ntoo well to be aught but a friend whatever you may do.\"\n\n\"Helgi! but for you I think I should fall upon my sword.\"\n\nHis friend tried to force a laugh, but it came hard.\n\n\"Nay, rather seek a sword for Liot Skulison, for I see we are\nnearing the holm.\"\n\n\"I had forgotten Liot,\" said Estein. \"We will loose his bonds, and\nlet him choose his weapons.\"\n\nHe found Liot sitting in the waist bound hand and foot. His eye\nwas as firm as if he had been in his own hall, and he looked up\nindifferently as Estein approached.\n\n\"Do you remember me, Liot?\" asked his captor.\n\n\"Ay, Estein. You, methinks, are one of the bairns I thought I had\nslain. Well was it for you that the Orkney tides run strong. But\nthe luck has changed, I see; and you were a bold man, Estein\nHakonson, to change it as you did. Why did you not burn us out?\"\n\n\"Because I wanted you alone.\"\n\n\"Ay, torture is a pleasant game for the torturers. How do you\nintend that I shall die?\"\n\n\"By my sword, if the gods will it. In an hour, Liot, we fight to\nthe death. Our battle-ground is yonder holm, the weapons you may\nchoose yourself; and meanwhile I shall loose your bonds, and if\nyou wish to eat or drink you may.\"\n\nA look of blank astonishment came over the Viking captain's face.\n\n\"This is a merry jest, Estein,\" he said.\n\n\"It is no jest.--Loose his bonds, men.\"\n\nLiot gave a shout of joy.\n\n\"Estein,\" he cried, \"you are a brave man, but I think you are\nfey.\"\n\n\"That will soon be seen.\"\n\nThe Viking's cool indifference gave place to the most exuberant\nexcitement. Like everybody else he thought that Estein was either\nmad or the victim of some enchantment; but so long as he was going\nto strike a good blow for life, he cared not how the chance had\ncome. He called for ale and meat, and with the eye of an old\nsoldier carefully picked his weapons; while the men around him\nmuttered to each other that Estein was surely fey.\n\nAll this time they had been sailing eastwards before a light\nbreeze. The sun had long been up, but the whole sky was obscured\nby light clouds, and there was an early morning feel in the air.\nNearly the whole length of the wide and lonely firth that divides\nOrkney from the Scottish coast lay behind them, and close ahead\nthey saw the little island that Grim had chosen for the meeting-place.\nWhen they had reached the holm they anchored the ship close\ninshore, and two boat-loads of men were first sent to prepare the\nfield of battle. Then when all was ready the two combatants,\nattended by Helgi and Ketill, were rowed ashore.\n\nLiot was gay and cheerful as a man going to a feast; while Estein\nsat silent in the stern, his thoughts busy with a landing at\nanother island.\n\n\"You need ale, Estein,\" said his opponent; \"a man going to fight\nshould be gay.\"\n\n\"It is more fitting,\" replied Helgi, \"for the man who comes back\nto be cheerful.\"\n\n\"Well said,\" said Ketill.\n\nLiot only laughed, and springing ashore before the boat had\ntouched the rocks, cried,--\n\n\"I had little thought to have such a pleasant morning. We will\nfinish what we began before, Estein.\"\n\n\"Ay, we will finish,\" said Estein.\n\nThey found a wide ring marked off with stones, and in this the two\nchampions took their stand. Each was armed with a helmet and a\ncoat of ring-mail, and bore in his right hand a sword, and in his\nleft a long, heart-shaped shield. Round their waists another sword\nwas girded, though there was likely to be little time to draw\nthis. In height and build they were very equally matched, but men\nnoticed that Estein moved more lightly on his feet.\n\nIn a loud voice Ketill proclaimed that whoever should withdraw\noutside the ring of stones should ever after bear the name of\ndastard.\n\nThen all went outside the circle, and with a shout Liot sprang at\nhis foe. Estein caught the sword on his shield, and in return\ndelivered such a storm of blows that Liot got no chance for a blow\nin return. He began to give ground, Estein pressing him hotly, his\nblade flashing so fast that men could not follow it. It was easily\nseen that in quickness and dexterity with his weapon Liot was\ninferior to his foe; but with wary eye and cool head he kept well\ncovered with his shield, shifting his ground all the time. Twice\nhe was nearly driven over the line, but each time saved himself by\na rapid side movement.\n\n\"I fear that Estein will tire,\" muttered Helgi.\n\n\"Ay; he has started too hard,\" replied Ketill.\n\nIt seemed as if they were right. Estein's blows became less\nfrequent, and Liot in turn attacked hotly. He made as little\nimpression, however, as Estein, and then by mutual consent both\nmen stopped for a minute's breathing-space.\n\n\"You seem tired, Estein,\" said Liot.\n\n\"Guard yourself,\" was the reply, and the fight began again. As\nbefore, Estein attacked hotly, Liot steadily giving ground.\n\n\"Too hard, too hard! after two sleepless nights he cannot fight\nlong like this,\" exclaimed Helgi.\n\nSo thought Liot, and he bided his time with patience. He was\nopposed, however, by one of the best and most determined swordsmen\nin Norway, and Estein as well as any one knew the risk he ran. He\nrained in his blows like a hailstorm; but fast though they came,\nhe was sparing his strength, and there was less vigour in his\nattack than there seemed. He bent all his energies on driving Liot\nback on the ring, shifting his ground as fast as his foe, heading\noff his attempts to move round, and all the while watching keenly\nfor an opening.\n\n\"He wins, Ketill! he wins!\" cried Helgi.\n\n\"Ay,\" said the black-bearded captain; \"there is little skill we\ncan teach Estein.\"\n\nAs they neared the stones, Estein's onset became more furious than\never; sword and shield had to shift up and down, right and left,\nto guard his storm of blows, and all the while Liot was being\ndriven back the faster towards one place where larger stones than\nusual had been used to make the ring. In vain he sprang suddenly\nto one side; Estein was before him, and his blade nearly found its\nway home. Two paces more Liot gave way, and then his heel struck a\nboulder. For an instant he lost his balance, and that moment was\nhis last on earth. As the shield shifted, Estein's sword came full\non his neck, and it was only the bairn-slayer's body that fell\nwithout the ring.\n\n\"Bring the spades!\" cried Ketill--\"a fitting enough epitaph for\nLiot Skulison.\"\n\nHis conqueror was already in Helgi's arms.\n\n\"I thought I should have had to avenge you, Estein. My heart is\nlight again.\"\n\n\"Odin has answered me, Helgi.\"\n\n\"And the spell is broken?\"\n\n\"No; that spell, I fear, will break only with my death-wound.\"\n\nHelgi laughed out of pure light-heartedness.\n\n\"There are fair maids in the south lands,\" he said.\n\n\"I go to Norway,\" replied Estein. \"I would fain see the pine woods\nagain.\"\n\nThat evening they saw the Orkneys faint and far away astern, and\nEstein, as he watched them fade into the dusk, would have given\nall Norway to hear again the roost run clamorous off the Holy\nIsle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nIN THE CELL BY THE ROOST.\n\n\nOn the rocky shore of the Holy Isle, Osla sat alone. The spell of\nsummer weather had passed from the islands, and in its wake the\nwind blew keenly from the north, and the grey cloud-drift hurried\nlow overhead. All colour had died out of land and sea; the hills\nlooked naked and the waters cold.\n\nAnd Vandrad, the sea-rover, had gone with the sunshine--had gone,\nnever so Osla said to herself, to return again.\n\nShe rose and tried to give her thoughts a lighter turn, but the\nnote of the north wind smote drearily upon her ears, and she left\nthe sea-shore with a sigh. For seven uneventful years she had\nfound in the sea a friend of whom she never tired, and on the\nlittle island duties enough to make the days pass swiftly by. Why\nshould the time now hang heavy on her hands?\n\nShe walked slowly to the wind-swept cells. Her father sat within,\nthe blackness of night upon his soul, the Viking fire now burned\ncompletely out.\n\nShe tried to rouse him, but he answered only in absent\nmonosyllables. Again she sought the solace of the sea, but never,\nit seemed to her, had it looked so cold and so unfriendly.\n\n\"Why did he ever come at all?\" she said.\n\nAnd so the days went by; summer changed to autumn, and autumn gave\nplace to winter. For week after week one gale followed another.\nFor days on end the spin-drift flew in clouds across the island,\nsalt and unceasing.\n\nThe sea was never silent, the gulls flew inland and the cormorants\nsat storm-bound in their caves; brief glimpses of cold and sunny\nweather passed as abruptly as they came, and in the smoke of a\ndriftwood fire Osla plied her needle and followed the wanderings\nof her thoughts.\n\nDuring all these months the hermit spoke little. So engrossed was\nOsla in herself that she hardly noticed how seldom the cloud\nseemed to lift from his mind. Never as before did he talk with her\nat length, or instruct her from the curious scraps of knowledge\nhis once acute mind had picked up from sources Christian and\npagan, from the wise men of the North and the monasteries of\nsouthern lands. He never once alluded to their guest, never even\napparently observed his departure, and in her heart his daughter\nthanked him for his silence.\n\nThe lingering winter passed at length, and one morning, in the\nfirst freshness of spring, Osla stood without the cell. Presently\nher father joined her, and she noticed, though her thoughts were\nbusy elsewhere, that he wore a strange expression. He looked at\nher doubtfully, and then said,--\n\n\"Where is Vandrad? I would hear him sing.\"\n\nThen Osla started, and her heart smote her.\n\n\"Vandrad, father?\" she said gently. \"He has been gone these eight\nmonths. Did you not know?\"\n\nThe hermit seemed hardly to comprehend her words.\n\n\"Gone!\" he repeated. \"Why did you not tell me?\"\n\n\"Surely you knew,\" she said.\n\n\"Why went he away? I would hear him sing. He used to sing to me of\nwar. He sang last night. Last night,\" he repeated doubtfully;\n\"methinks it was last night. Bring him to me.\"\n\nShe turned his questions as best she could, and strove to make him\nthink of other things. With her arm through his they paced the\nturf along the shore, and all the while her heart sank lower and\nlower. She was in the presence of something so mysterious that\neven wise men in those days shrank from it in fear. It was the\nfinger of God alone, they said, that laid a blight on human minds,\nand there before her was His handiwork.\n\nYet, had she but known it, this blight had been the slow work of\nyears. Her father's mind, always dark and superstitious, and\ntinged with morbid melancholy, had gradually in these long\nsolitary years given way more and more before sombre underminings,\ntill now, with old age at the gates, it had at last succumbed.\nSome few bright moments there were at rare intervals, but in all\nthe months that followed it was but the shattered hull of Thord\nthe Tall, once the terror of the western seas, that lingered on\nthe Holy Isle.\n\nThe care of him had at least the effect of turning Osla's thoughts\naway from herself. Than sunshine and another's troubles there are\nno better tonics.\n\nYet it was a dreary summer for the hermit's daughter, and it grew\nall the drearier and more lonesome when the long, fresh days began\nto shorten, and the sea was more seldom still and the wind more\noften high. All the time, the old man grew slowly worse. He sat\ncontinually in his cell; and though Osla would not acknowledge her\nfears even to herself, she knew that death could not be far away.\nYet he lingered through the winter storms, and the end came upon a\nFebruary evening. All the afternoon the hermit had lain with shut\neyes, never speaking a word or giving a sign. It fell wet and\ngusty at night, and Osla, bending over the couch, could hear\nnothing but the wind and the roost she knew so well.\n\nAt length he raised his head and asked,--\n\n\"Are we alone, Osla?\"\n\n\"There is no one here but me, father.\"\n\n\"Listen then,\" he said. \"I have that on my mind that you must hear\nbefore I die. My end is close at hand. I seem to have been long\nasleep, and now I know that this wakefulness you see is but the\nclearness of a man before he dies.\"\n\nHe took her hand as he spoke, and she tried to stifle a sob.\n\n\"Not so,\" she said, while the tears rose so fast that she could\nonly dimly see his face; \"you are better, far better, to-night.\"\n\n\"I am death-doomed, Osla. Thord the Tall shall die in his bed\nto-night, an old and worthless wreck. Once I had little thought of\nsuch a death; and even now, though I die a Christian man, and my\nhope is in Christ Jesus, and St. Andaman the holy, I would like\nwell to hear the clash of swords around me. But the doom of a man\nis fated from his birth.\"\n\nHis daughter was silent, and the old Viking, seeming to gather\nstrength as he talked, went on in a strong, clear voice.\n\n\"I have heavy sins at my door. I have burned, I have slain in\nbattle, I have pillaged towns and devastated corn-lands. May the\nLord have mercy on my soul!\n\n\"He shall have mercy, Osla! I am saved, and the heathen I slew are\nlost for ever. For the souls of the Christians who fell by this\nhand I have done penance and given great gifts, and to-night these\nthings shall be remembered. To-night we part, Osla.\"\n\nShe held his great hand in both of hers, and pressed it against\nher lips, and in a broken voice she said,--\n\n\"No, not to-night, not to-night.\"\n\n\"Ay, to-night,\" he said. \"But before we part you must hear of one\ndeed that haunts me even now, though they were but heathens whom I\nslew.\"\n\n\"The burning at Laxafiord?\" she whispered.\n\n\"Who has not heard of that burning?\" he cried. \"The flames leapt\nhigher than the pine trees, the women shrieked--I hear them now!\"\nHe paused, and she pressed his hand the tighter.\n\n\"Father!\" she said softly, \"father!\" But he paid no heed to her,\nfor his mind had begun to wander, and he talked wildly to himself.\n\n\"Death-doomed I am. Have mercy upon my soul! ......Ay, the wind\nblows, a stormy day for fishing, and the flames are leaping--I see\nthem leap! St. Ringan save me!......A Christian man, I tell\nthee...... spare not, spare not! Smite them to the last man!\"\n\nThen he fell silent, and she laid her free hand upon his brow,\nwhile outside the wind eddied and sang mournfully round the cell.\nAt last his mind cleared again, and he spoke coherently though\nvery feebly.\n\n\"I am dying, Osla; fare thee well! The box--you know the box?\"\n\n\"The steel-bound box?\" she answered.\n\n\"Ay, steel-bound, 'tis steel-bound indeed. I took it--\"\n\nHe had begun to wander again, but with a last effort he collected\nhis thoughts and went on,--\n\n\"Open it. There is a writing. Read, it will tell--promise--I can\nspeak no more.\"\n\n\"I promise,\" she replied, hardly knowing what she said, her heart\nwas so full.\n\nThere was another brief silence, and then loudly and clearly he\ncried,--\n\n\"Bring up my banner! Forward, Thord's men! Forward!......They\nfly!......They fly!\"\n\nThe voice died away, and Osla was left alone.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE MESSAGE OF THE RUNES.\n\n\nThe story must now come back to Norway. Though Estein had returned\nwith neither spoil nor captives, the tale of Liot's capture and\nthe combat on the holm added much to his renown, and no fewer than\nsix skalds composed lengthy poems on the adventure. There seemed\nno reason why the hero of these lays should shrink from talking of\nhis expedition, and avoid, so far as he could, the company of men.\nGradually strange rumours began to spread. Helgi, who alone knew\nthe truth, held his peace for Estein's sake, even when the ale\nflowed most freely. The others who had sailed with them laid no\nsuch restraint on their tongues, and stories of a spell and an\nOrkney witch, vague and contradictory, but none the less eagerly\nlistened to and often repeated, went the round of the country. The\nking at last began to take alarm, and one day he called Earl\nSigvald to him and talked with him alone.\n\n\"What rede can you give, jarl?\" he said; \"a strange witchcraft I\nfear has been at work. When a young man smiles but seldom, broods\noften by himself, and shuns the flagon and the feast, there is\nsomething more to be looked for than a loss of men and ships, or\nthe changefulness of youth.\"\n\n\"Get him a wife,\" replied the earl. \"He has been single too long.\nThere is no cure for spells like a pair of bright eyes.\"\n\nBut when the king spoke to his son, he found him resolutely\nopposed to marriage. Hakon loved him so dearly that he forbore to\npress the matter, and again he consulted Earl Sigvald.\n\n\"If he will not marry, let him fight,\" answered the earl. \"For a\nprince of the race of Yngve, the clash of arms cures melancholy\nbetter than a maid.\"\n\nSo with the coming of spring Estein cruised in the Baltic, and\ncarried the terror of his arms far into Finland and Russia. Yet he\nreturned as moody as before.\n\nAt feasts his spirits sometimes rose to an extraordinary pitch.\nFor the time he would be carried away as he had never been before.\nHe would sing, jest, and quarrel; but his jests were often bitter,\nand his quarrels gave rise to more talk than his gloom, for before\nhe had been of an even and generous temper. And when the fit\npassed away he was quieter than ever.\n\nOne day he was out hunting on the fells with Helgi. They were\noftener together than ever, and his foster-brother had far more\ninfluence with him than any other man.\n\nThey stood on a desolate hillside a little above the highest pine\nwoods, examining the tracks of a bear, when Helgi suddenly turned\nto him and said,--\n\n\"Do you not think, Estein, you have moped and mourned long\nenough?\"\n\n\"They whom the gods have cursed,\" replied Estein, \"have little\ncause for laughter. What is there left for me on this earth?\"\n\n\"To prove yourself a man; to accept the destiny you cannot alter;\nand in time, Estein, to be a king. Are these things nothing?\"\n\nHelgi seldom spoke so gravely, and Estein for a time stood silent.\nThen he exclaimed,--\n\n\"You are right, Helgi; I have acted as a beaten child. Henceforth\nI shall try to look on my fate, I cannot say merrily, but at least\nwith a steady eye.\"\n\nAs another winter passed, he gradually seemed to come to himself.\nHe was sadder and more reserved than of yore, but the king saw\nwith joy that the gloom was lifting. One day in the season when\nspring and winter overlap, and the snow melts by day and hardens\nagain over-night, Earl Sigvald returned to Hakonstad from his seat\nby a northern fiord. King Hakon greeted him cheerfully.\n\n\"The spell is lifting, jarl,\" he said; \"Estein is becoming himself\nagain.\"\n\n\"That is well, sire,\" replied the earl; \"and my old heart lightens\nat the news. But I have other tidings that need your attention. I\nhave brought with me Arne the Slim, your scatt-gatherer in\nJemtland. The people there have slain some of his followers,\nforced him to fly for his life, and refused to pay scatt to a\nNorse king. There is work ahead for some of our young blades.\"\n\n\"They shall see that my arm is longer than they deem,\" replied the\nking grimly.\n\nArne told his tale in the great hall before all the assembled\nchiefs, and the king's face darkened with anger as he listened.\nEvery now and then, as he spoke of some particular act of\ntreachery, or of his hardships and hurried flight, an angry murmur\nrose from his audience, and a weapon here and there clashed\nsternly. Estein alone seemed unmoved. He stood listlessly at the\nback, apparently hardly hearing what was going on, his thoughts\nreturning despite himself to their melancholy groove. All at once\nhe heard himself addressed, and turning round saw a stranger at\nhis side. The man was holding out something towards him, and when\nhe had caught Estein's eye, he said respectfully,--\n\n\"I was charged to give this token to you, sire.\" Estein looked at\nhim in surprise, and taking the token from his hand, glanced at it\ncuriously.\n\nIt was a stave of oak, about two feet long, and shaped with some\ncare. Along one side an inscription was carved in Runes, and as he\nread the first words his expression changed and he spelt it keenly\nthrough. The whole writing ran: \"An old man, a maiden, and a\nspell. Come hither to Jemtland.\"\n\nHe turned sharply to the man and asked,--\n\n\"How came you by this? Who sent it to me?\"\n\n\"That last I cannot answer,\" replied the man. \"This only I know,\nthat the night before the Jemtland people attacked us, a man came\nto the door of the house where I lodged, and giving me this said,\n'Fly, war is afoot,' and with that he left as suddenly as he came.\nI aroused my master Arne, and one or two more, and thanks to the\nwarning, we escaped the fate of our comrades. That is all I can\ntell you.\"\n\nThe message made a sharp impression on Estein's mind. \"An old man,\na maiden, and a spell,\" he repeated to himself. He racked his\nbrains, but he could think of no one in that remote country who\nwould be likely to send such a message. It seemed to him to have\nan almost supernatural import, and again he said to himself, \"An\nold man, a maiden, and a spell.\" Then suddenly he took a\nresolution, and turning from the messenger stepped into the crowd\nwho surrounded the king.\n\nArne had just finished his tale. There was a moment's angry\nsilence, and then the king glanced round the host of weather-beaten\nVikings and high-born chiefs and cried,--\n\n\"Who will punish these cowardly rebels of mine?\"\n\nA dozen voices instantly claimed the service. Loudest of them all\nwas that of Ketill, now married to a wealthy widow and a person of\nconsiderable importance, and the black-bearded Viking stepped\nforward as he spoke.\n\n\"Give me this service, king,\" he said. \"I have lived at mine ease\ntoo long of late. Laziness begets fat.\"\n\nThere was a laugh at Ketill's words, for his person had never been\nnoted for its spareness.\n\nThe Viking frowned and exclaimed,--\n\n\"Let those laugh who have tested my steel.\"\n\n\"Well I know your bravery, Ketill,\" began the king, \"and there is\nno man--\"\n\nAt that instant the ring of men round him suddenly opened and\nEstein stood before his father. His face was more animated than\nany had seen it for many a long day, and in a firm voice he said,--\n\n\"I will lead this expedition.\"\n\nSteel rang on steel as every armed warrior there clashed his\napproval. By all the gods whose names he could remember Earl\nSigvald swore that the true Estein was come back, and King Hakon\nexclaimed joyfully,--\n\n\"There speaks my son at last. Prepare yourself then, Estein. Ill\ntidings have been changed to good.\"\n\n\"And you, Ketill,\" said Estein, turning to his former companion,\n\"will you come with me?\"\n\n\"That will I,\" answered Ketill. \"I want no braver leader. But the\ngods curse me if we roast not a few score men this time, Estein.\"\n\nFor two days there was a turmoil of preparation round Hakonstad,\nand on the third Estein's two warships sailed down the fiord. He\nhad with him Helgi, Ketill, and a picked force; and as he stood on\ndeck and watched the towering precipices slip by, and the white\nclouds drift over their rough rim of pines, his heart beat high.\nThe message of the Runes was ringing in his mind, and the spirit\nof roving and adventure boiling up again.\n\nThey sailed far up the coast, and then, leaving their ship in a\nnorthern fiord, struck inland across the mountains. The country\nthey were going to lay among the lakes of North Sweden. Its people\nwere more barbarous than the Norwegians, and had long been in a\nstate of half-subjection to the Norse kings. There was not likely\nto be hard fighting; for small as Estein's force was, the natives\nwere badly armed and little esteemed as warriors. The country,\nhowever, was difficult, so the men marched warily, their arms\nready for instant use, and a sharp watch kept all the time. The\nsun came out hot by day, but at nights it felt very cold and\nfrosty. With all the haste they could make they pushed on by the\nleast frequented routes and the most desolate places. During the\nfirst day after they had crossed the mountains, they only saw one\nfarmhouse, in a forest clearing, and that, when they came up to\nit, was still and deserted. On the following day they passed a\nsmall hamlet on the banks of a river, and a little later another\nfarm. In neither was there a sign of an inhabitant to be seen, and\nthey seemed for all the world like dwellings of the dead.\n\n\"This is passing strange,\" said Helgi. \"Unless, perhaps, the\nJemtlanders spend the winter in holes and caves, like the bears\nthey resemble in all but courage.\"\n\n\"The alarm has spread, I fear,\" answered Estein. \"We must make the\nmore haste.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said Ketill; \"on, on!\"\n\nTowards evening the head of the column emerged into a small\nclearing, and the foster-brothers, who were marching in the\nmiddle, heard a cry from the van. Then Ketill's gruff voice called\nout,--\n\n\"After him! Nay, slay him not! Have you got him? Ay, bring the\nknave to Estein.\"\n\nThe little army came to a halt, and a poor-looking man, clad in a\nskin coat, and trembling violently as they dragged him along, was\nbrought before Estein.\n\n\"Spare my life, noble captain!\" he pleaded, casting himself on his\nknees. \"I am but a poor man, I beseech you.\"\n\n\"Silence, rascal!\" thundered Ketill, \"or we will have your\ncoward's tongue out by the root.\"\n\n\"Tell me, if you value your life, what means this solitude?\"\nEstein demanded sternly. \"Nay, shake not like an old man with\npalsy, but speak the truth--if by chance a Jemtlander knows what\ntruth is. Where are the people?\"\n\n\"Noble earl, they have heard of your coming, and fled. No man will\nawait you; you will see none in the country.\"\n\n\"Do none mean to fight?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"Great prince,\" replied the fellow, \"the Jemtlanders were never a\nwarlike race. Even the king, I hear, is prepared to fly.\"\n\nA contemptuous murmur rose from the Norsemen.\n\n\"Let us begin by hanging this man,\" said Ketill, \"and then fire,\nfire through the country!\"\n\n\"I shall see first whether he has spoken the truth,\" answered\nEstein. \"Bind him, and bring him on.\"\n\nThe man was bound and guarded, and the march was continued. Early\nthe next morning two men were found together in a cottage, and\nthey told the same tale.\n\n\"Little glory is there in marching against such a people,\" said\nEstein. \"Bind them, and hasten on.\"\n\nAbout an hour later the little army emerged from a hillside\nforest, and saw below them a small merchant town. The rude wooden\nhouses straggled along the edge of a great frozen lake, whose\nsnow-powdered surface stretched for miles and miles in an unbroken\nsheet of dazzling whiteness. Between the shores and the outskirts\nof the woodlands lay a wide sweep of cultivated country.\nEverywhere a thin coating of snow covered the ground, and the air\nwas sharp enough to make the breath of the men rise like a cloud\nof steam as they marched in battle order down the slope.\n\n\"There are men in the town!\" cried Helgi suddenly. \"I see the\nglint of the sun on weapons. Thanks be to the gods, we shall have\na fight!\"\n\n\"Ay, they are coming out,\" said Estein. \"Halt! we shall take\nadvantage of the slope, and await them here.\"\n\nThe men halted, and grasped their weapons, and in expectant\nsilence their leaders watched a small troop defile out of the\ntown.\n\n\"Call you that an army?\" growled Ketill. \"There are barely a score\nof them.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said Helgi, with a sigh, \"there will be no fighting to-day.\"\n\nAbout twenty men, dressed in skins and fur coats and wooden\nhelmets, and slenderly armed, had left the town, and now came\nslowly up the hill. Their leader alone wore a burnished steel\nhelmet, and carried a long halberd over his shoulder. Immediately\nbehind him walked two boys, and at the sight of them Helgi asked,--\n\n\"What mean they by bringing boys against us?\"\n\n\"Hostages,\" suggested Estein laconically.\n\nWhen this motley company had come within a hundred yards of them,\nthey stopped, and their leader advanced alone.\n\nAs he drew near to the Norsemen, Estein stepped out a pace or two\nto meet him, but they stood so close that Helgi and Ketill could\nhear all that passed. They saw that the stranger was a tall,\nelderly man with a clever face and a dignified bearing.\n\n\"Hail, Estein Hakonson!\" he said.\n\n\"You know my name, it seems,\" replied Estein, \"and therein have\nthe advantage of me.\"\n\n\"My name is Thorar,\" said the chief, speaking gravely and very\ncourteously, \"lawman of this region of Jemtland\"--he made a\nsweeping gesture with his hand as he said this--\"and a friend\nhitherto to the Northmen.\"\n\n\"I know you by repute as a chief of high birth, and one who has\nlong been faithful to my father. Yet, methinks, it was something\nless than faithful to drive his scatt-gatherer from the country\nand slay his followers.\"\n\n\"Blame not me for that, Estein,\" answered Thorar. \"It was done\nwith neither my knowledge nor consent, and none grieved at such an\noutrage more than I. Now, as you see, you have the land at your\nmercy; and as an ancient friend of your family and a faithful\nservant of my master King Bue, I am come to intercede between King\nHakon and him. Give us peace, Estein; and as you have a grey-haired\nfather, spare my master the sorrow and the shame you would\nbring upon him. What can he do against you? The old spirit of my\ncountrymen has died out,\" he added sadly, \"and no man dare meet\nyour force in the field.\"\n\n\"Is King Bue in the town?\" Estein asked.\n\n\"Nay, he could not travel so far; but in his name I bid you\nwelcome to his feast, if you will accept peace instead of war. If\nyou will not, then I can only mourn the devastation of my country.\nIt will be a bloodless victory, Estein.\"\n\n\"And what compensation does the king intend to make?\"\n\n\"What you will; he is powerless.\"\n\n\"Shall we then march to King Bue?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Thorar, \"in these evil days he cannot entertain you\nall. Many of his people have fled to the woods already, and--to\ntell the truth--he, too, would feel ill at ease if he saw so brave\na force come nigh him; for he is old, and his spirit is broken.\nBut a following of twenty men or so he will gladly entertain. The\nothers I shall have feasted here in the town at my own cost, and\nwith them I shall leave my two young sons\"--he indicated, as he\nspoke, the two lads. \"They are my only children, and them I shall\nwillingly give you as hostages till your return, that I may save\nmy country from fire and sword. Though,\" he added, with a grave\nsmile, \"if men speak truth, Estein Hakonson can make good his\ncoming or going against most.\"\n\n\"Be it as you will,\" replied Estein; \"but if--\" He paused, and\nlooked sternly at Thorar.\n\n\"If a king's word and mine are not sufficient, and my only sons\nsatisfy you not, I can but add my oath--though most men would deem\nit needless.\"\n\nThorar spoke with dignity and a touch of haughtiness, and Estein\nreplied simply and courteously,--\n\n\"I shall come.\"\n\nHe turned to Helgi and said,--\n\n\"No fighting will there be, Helgi; but I have known you welcome\neven a feast. What say you?\"\n\n\"This snow work and marching call for feasting,\" replied Helgi,\nwith a laugh.\n\n\"Then Ketill shall stay here with the rest of our troop, and you\nand I, with twenty more, will to the king. Forward, men!\"\n\n\"Spare not the ale,\" added Ketill.\n\n\"A courteous and gallant man is Thorar, for a Jemtlander,\" said\nHelgi to Ketill, as they marched down to the town.\n\n\"Dogs and women are his people,\" replied Ketill. \"They are fit\nneither to be friends nor enemies.\"\n\nEstein liberated the prisoners they had taken on the march, and\nleaving Ketill in charge of the main force and the hostages, he\nand Helgi set forth about noon for the seat of King Bue.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nKING BUE'S FEAST.\n\n\nTheir way at first took them over a flat, white waste by the\nshores of the lake. Estein fell back and let Helgi walk in front\nwith Thorar; behind those two marched the small band of wild,\nskin-coated followers of the lawman; and after them came the\nmail-clad twenty, the shields which hung from their backs clanking\nnow and again as they struck their harness. Last of all walked their\nleader.\n\nNow that the tension of forced marches and weary journeyings\nthrough forest paths was off his mind, his thoughts ran\ncontinually on the Runes. \"Come hither to Jemtland,\" he said to\nhimself. He had come, and what was to follow? Something he felt\nmust happen, and though he was curious, he cared singularly little\nwhat it might be. The sun hung high overhead, under foot the snow\ncrunched pleasantly, and the air was clear and bracing--a day to\ninspire an adventurer and a skald. His thoughts began to take a\nrhyming turn, and he caught himself repeating his own verses:--\n\n  \"Fare thee well, sweet blue-eyed Osla!\n   The sea-king must not stay,\n   E'en for tresses rich as summer\n    And for smile as bright as May;\n   But one hope I cannot part from--\n    We may meet again some day!\"\n\n\"And we shall, Osla!\" he exclaimed half aloud.\n\nHe was aroused by hearing the voices of Helgi and Thorar come back\nto him clear and cheerfully. A thought struck him. Could Thorar\nhave sent the message? A moment's reflection assured him that it\nwas out of the question, but, to convince himself, he went forward\nand joined the lawman.\n\n\"Is it far to King Bue's hall?\" he asked.\n\n\"The marshes are firm and frozen, and the snow lies nowhere very\ndeep. We should reach it by nightfall.\"\n\nHelgi laughed, and said,--\n\n\"A flight of wild ducks passed overhead just now, and called to\nmind their kinsmen cooked; their kinsmen cooked called to mind the\nwherewithal to wash them down; and, in brief, I, for one, shall be\nglad to meet King Bue.\"\n\n\"We have a saying that the king loves a guest who loves his\ncheer,\" replied Thorar with a smile.\n\n\"Know you one of an old man,\" Estein asked, \"and--but I forget\nit--something of a maiden too? I saw it somewhere written in Runes.\"\n\nIn obedience to an indefinable instinct, he had said nothing of\nthe token to Helgi, and his foster-brother looked at him in\nsurprise. The mention of the Runes brought no look of recognition\nto Thorar's face. With his grave smile he answered,--\n\n\"There are many sayings concerning maids, and some concerning old\nmen; also, if I mistake not, one or two about young men and\nmaids.\"\n\n\"Spare Estein those last,\" cried Helgi lightly. \"He thinks himself\nold, and never gives maids a thought at all.\"\n\nEvidently Thorar knew nothing of the message, and Estein became\nsilent again.\n\nThey were gradually approaching a dark forest, which stretched\nfrom the edge of the lake inland, and latish in the afternoon they\nentered it by a narrow, rutty road. Darkness closed in fast as\nthey wound their way through the wood. The air grew colder and\ncolder, till their hands and faces tingled with the frost. Silence\nfell upon them, and for some time nothing could be heard but the\noccasional clash of steel and the continual creaking of snow and\nbreaking of dead branches under foot. Then a hum of voices came to\nthem fitfully, and at last the path opened into a wide glade.\n\n\"We are almost there,\" said Thorar. \"Smile not, Estein, at our\nrude hospitality; or, if you do, let our welcome make amends.\"\n\nA young moon had just risen above the trees, and by its pale light\nthey saw a small village at the end of the glade. Many lights\nflashed, and a babel of voices chattered and shouted as they\napproached.\n\n\"All King Bue's men have not fled, it seems,\" Helgi said in a low\nvoice.\n\nEstein made no reply, but the two foster-brothers fell back, and\nplacing themselves at the head of their twenty followers, entered\nthe little village. They found that it consisted of a few mean\nhouses clustered outside a high wooden stockade. Thorar led them\nup to a gateway in this fence, and crying, \"Welcome, Estein!\"\nstood aside to let the Norsemen file in.\n\nThe scene as they entered was strange and stirring. Immediately\nbefore them lay a wide courtyard, in the centre of which stood\nKing Bue's hall, high and long, and studded with bright windows.\nMen were ranged in a line from the gateway to the hall, bearing\ngreat torches. The smoky flames flashed on snow-covered ground and\nwild faces, and the branches of black pines outside, making the\nnight above seem dark as a great vault. All round them rose a\nclamour of voices, and a throng of skin-coated figures crowded the\ngate to catch a glimpse of the strangers.\n\nEstein walked first, and just as he came into the court a man,\npushed apparently by the surging crowd, stumbled against him.\n\n\"Make way, there!\" cried Thorar sternly, from behind; \"give room\nfor the king's guests to pass!\"\n\nThe man hastily stepped back, but not before he had found time to\nwhisper,--\n\n\"Beware, Estein! Drink not too deep!\"\n\nAs he walked along the line of torch-bearers to the door of the\nking's hall, the peril of their situation, supposing treachery\nwere really intended, came suddenly home to Estein's mind. It was\ntoo late to turn back, even had his pride allowed him to think of\ntaking such a course. He could only resolve to warn his men, and,\nso far as he could, keep them together and near him. Even as he\nwas still turning the matter over in his mind, he found himself at\nthe hall door, where an officer of the court, dressed with\nbarbaric splendour, ushered him into the drinking-room. A\ndiscordant chorus of outlandish voices, raised by a hundred guests\nor more, bade him welcome. He walked up to his seat by the king,\nand on the spur of the moment could hit on no plan of\ncommunicating with his men. Helgi followed him to the dais, and\nwith him he just found time to exchange a word.\n\n\"Drink little, and watch!\" he whispered.\n\n\"Have you then seen him too?\" Helgi replied, in the same anxious\ntone. Estein looked at him in surprise, and Helgi, coming close\nbeside him, added rapidly,--\n\n\"The last torch-bearer but one was the man we captured in the\nforest and freed this morning, and methinks I see another of our\nprisoners even now. King Bue's hird-men [Footnote: Bodyguard.]\nboth, sent--\" he had to turn away abruptly, and Estein finished\nthe sentence under his breath,--\n\n\"Sent to trap us.\"\n\nHe took his seat, and glancing round the hall saw his twenty\nfollowers scattered here and there among the crowd of guests.\n\n\"Fool!\" he thought, \"I have walked into the trap like a child in\narms. The whole country has been prepared against our coming, the\npeople told to leave their houses, and the king's own hird-men set\nas decoys in our path. Can this be the meaning of the Runes?\"\n\nYet there was no actual proof of treachery, and he could only\nwatch and listen. And certainly there was noise enough to be\nheard. Never among the most hardened drinkers of their own country\nhad the foster-brothers seen such an orgie. The king, a\nfoolish-looking old man, evidently completely under Thorar's influence,\nbecame very soon in a maudlin condition; man after man around them\ngrew rapidly more and more drunk; and all the time they themselves\nwere plied with ale so assiduously that their suspicions grew\nstronger. So far as his followers were concerned, Estein was\nhelpless. He glanced round the hall now and then, and could see\nthem quickly succumbing to the Jemtland hospitality. Personally he\nfound it hard to refuse to pledge the frequent toasts shouted at\nhim, but at last, when the men near him had got in such a state\nthat their observation was dulled, he placed his drinking-horn on\nhis lap and thrust his dagger through the bottom. Then, by keeping\nit always off the table, he was able to let the liquor run through\nas fast as it was filled, and always drain an empty cup. Helgi had\nadopted a different device. His head lay on his arms, and in reply\nto all calls to drink he merely uttered incoherent shouts, while\nevery now and then Estein could see that he would shake with\nlaughter.\n\nSuspicious though he was, it came as a shock to Estein to hear his\nworst fears suddenly confirmed. Tongues had been freely loosed,\nand listening carefully to what was said, he heard the mutterings\nof the chief next him take a coherent form.\n\n\"Ay, little they know,\" he was saying to himself. \"Let them drink,\nlet them drink. Dogs of Norsemen, they came hither to harry our\ncountry, and here they shall stay. Ay, they shall never drink\nagain, and King Hakon shall look for his son in vain.\"\n\nThen the man lost his balance, and rolled off his seat under the\nboard. He had been placed between Estein and Helgi, and now Estein\nwas able to lean over to his foster-brother, and, under pretence\nof trying to make him drink, whispered in his ear,--\n\n\"Go out by the far door, and await me outside the court on the\nfarthest side from the entrance.\"\n\nHelgi lay still for a minute, and then rising to his feet,\nmuttered something about \"strong ale and fresh air,\" and staggered\ndown the hall with a well-feigned semblance of drunkenness.\n\nThorar was sitting opposite, touched with drink a little, but\nstill alert and sober enough. He glanced sharply at Estein; but\nthe Viking, looking him full in the face, laughed noisily and\ncried,--\n\n\"Helgi's head seems hardly so strong as his hand, Thorar!\"\n\nFor once the lawman was overreached, and with a laugh he drained\nhis horn and answered,--\n\n\"I had thought better of you Norsemen.\"\n\nThe hardest part of the business now remained. To go out in the\nsame way he knew would excite suspicion; if he delayed too long,\nsearch would be made for Helgi; and there sat Thorar facing him.\nHe knew that if he could once get rid of him, he had little to\nfear from any of the others; and as he thought hard for a plan,\nthe king, who had for some time been fast asleep, suddenly solved\nthe difficulty. He woke with a start, saw that the drink was\ncoming to an end, and cried with drunken ardour,--\n\n\"More ale, more ale, Thorar! Estein drinks not!\"\n\nThorar glanced round and saw that no one but himself was capable\nof going on the errand. Twice he called aloud on servants by their\nnames, but there came no answer. Then with a frown he rose and\nwalked down the hall.\n\nThe high table at which they sat was lit by two great torches set\non stands. While Thorar was still going down the room, Estein,\nwith a deliberately clumsy movement, upset and extinguished the\none nearest him. Casting a look over his shoulder, he saw the\nlawman leave the hall at the far end; and then he rose to his\nfeet, and making an affectation of relighting the extinguished\ntorch from the other, put the second out, and in the sudden\nhalf-darkness that ensued, slipped under the board, and ran on his\nhands and feet for the door at that end of the hall. No one about\nseemed to notice his departure, but just as he carefully opened\nthe door he thought he saw with the corner of his eye a man slip\nout at the far end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nTHE HOUSE IN THE FOREST.\n\n\nComing from the warmth and light of the hall, the night outside\nstruck sharp and bitterly cold. A thin cloud hid the moon, but\nthere was quite light enough to see that the snow-covered court\nwas deserted. Only in the shadows of the paling and the end of the\nhouse was it possible for a man to be concealed, and before he\nstepped away from the door Estein ran his eye carefully along\nboth. He could see nothing, and had just stepped forward a pace,\nwhen noiselessly as a phantom a dark form appeared round the\ncorner of the hall, and without pausing an instant came straight\nup to him. He saw only that the man was small, and wrapped in a\ncloak of fur; his sword flashed, and he was almost in the act of\nstriking when the figure held up a hand and stopped.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" said Estein in a low voice, coming forward a step\nas he spoke, and holding his sword ready to smite on the instant.\n\n\"Estein Hakonson,\" replied the other in the same tone, \"waste not\nyour blows on friends. Remember the Runes, and follow me. There is\nlittle time for words now.\"\n\nHe turned as he spoke, and looking over his shoulder to see that\nEstein followed him, started for the stockade. For an instant\nEstein hesitated.\n\n\"Are you mad?\" exclaimed the man; \"or do you wish to die here like\na dog?\"\n\n\"Lead on,\" replied Estein, and still holding his naked sword he\nfollowed him across the court.\n\nThe man went swiftly up to the paling, and taking an axe from\nunder his cloak drove it hard into the wood as high above his head\nas he could reach. Then with the agility of a cat he drew himself\nup by it, seized the top of the fence, and sat there astride.\n\n\"Quick! quick!\" he whispered. \"Sheathe that sword, and stand not\nlike a fool looking at me.\"\n\nEstein, though a much heavier man, was active and lithe, and his\nguide, as he watched him mount, muttered,--\n\n\"That is better; we have a chance yet.\"\n\nThey dropped on the other side, and whispering to Estein to\nfollow, the man turned to the wood and was about to plunge in,\nwhen his companion seized his arm, and said,--\n\n\"I trysted here with my foster brother. Till he comes I must\nwait.\"\n\nThe Jemtlander turned on him savagely and answered,--\n\n\"Think you I have to succour you of my own pleasure? Never had I\nless joy in doing anything. If your brother be not here now he\nwill never come at all. I was not told to risk my life for him.\nCome on!\"\n\n\"Go, then,\" said Estein; \"here will I bide.\"\n\nThe man stamped his foot wrathfully, and turned sharply away as\nthough he would leave him. Then he turned back and answered,--\n\n\"The gods curse you and him! See you this path opening ahead of\nus? Follow that with all the speed you can make, and I, fool that\nI am for my pains, shall turn back and bring him after you if he\nis to be found. Stare not at me, but hasten! I shall overtake you\nere long.\"\n\nWith that he started off under the shadow of the stockade, and\nEstein, after a moment's deliberation, turned into the path. Never\nbefore had he felt himself so completely the football of fortune.\nDestiny seemed to kick him here and there in no gentle manner, and\nto no purpose that he could fathom. As he stumbled through the\nblackness of the tortuous forest path, he tried to connect one\nthing with another, and find some meaning in the token that had\nbrought him here. Evidently the sender was so far from being in\nleague with his foes that he made a kind of contrary current,\neddying him one way just when fate seemed to have driven him\nanother. To add to his perplexities, the disappearance of Helgi\nhad now come to trouble his mind; he had heard no outcry or alarm,\nhis foster-brother had time enough to have easily reached the\nrendezvous before him, and he felt as he walked like a man in a\nmaze.\n\nSuddenly there came a crash of branches at his side, a man stepped\nout of the trees, and before he had time to draw a weapon, the\nsharp, impatient voice of his guide exclaimed,--\n\n\"Is this all the way you have made? Your foster-brother has\nescaped, or has by this time been captured, I care not which. I\nsaw him not.\"\n\n\"But supposing I were more careful of his safety?\" Estein\ndemanded, with a note of anger in his voice.\n\n\"Push on!\" replied the other. \"The alarm is raised, and neither\nyou nor Helgi can be found, so perchance he has not yet suffered\nfor his folly. I came not out to hear you talk.\"\n\nHe started off as he spoke, and Estein, perceiving the\nhopelessness of further search, followed him with a heart little\nlightened.\n\n\"If they have not found him yet,\" he thought, \"he has perhaps\nescaped. But why did he not wait for me? If he had been alive, he\nsurely would have met me.\"\n\nFor some time he followed his mysterious guide in melancholy\nsilence. There was only room for them to walk in single file, and\nit took him some trouble to keep up. Sometimes it seemed to him\nthat they would leave the path and go straight through the\ntrackless depths of the wood, with a quickness and assurance that\nastonished him. Then again they would apparently fall upon a path\nfor a time, and perhaps break into a trot while the ground was\nclear.\n\nAt last they came into a long, open glade, where a stream brawled\nbetween snow-clad banks, and the vague form of some frightened\nanimal flitted silently towards the shade. The moon had come out\nof the clouds, and by its light Estein tried to scan the features\nof his companion. So far as a fur cap would let his face be seen,\nhe seemed dark, unkempt, and singularly wild of aspect, but there\nwas nothing in his look to catch the Viking's memory. He said not\na word, but, with a swinging stride, hastened down the glade,\nEstein close at his shoulder.\n\n\"Where do we go?\" Estein asked once.\n\n\"You shall see what you shall see. Waste not your breath,\" replied\nthe other impatiently.\n\nAgain they turned into the wood, and went for some considerable\ndistance down a choked and rugged path which all at once ended in\na clearing. In the middle stood a small house of wood. The frosted\nroof sparkled in the moonlight, and a thin stream of smoke rose\nfrom a wide chimney at one end, but there was never a ray of light\nfrom door or window to be seen. The man went straight up to the\ndoor and knocked.\n\n\"This then is the end of our walk,\" said Estein.\n\n\"It would seem so indeed,\" replied the other, striking the door\nagain impatiently.\n\nThis time there came sounds of a bolt being shot back. Then the\ndoor swung open, and Estein saw on the threshold an old man\nholding in his hand a lighted torch. For an instant there passed\nthrough his mind, like a prospect shown by a flash of lightning, a\nsharp memory of the hermit Andreas. Instinctively he drew back,\nbut the first words spoken dispelled the thought.\n\n\"I have waited for thee, Estein.\"\n\n\"Atli!\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Ay,\" said the old man. \"I see thou knewest not where thy way\nwould lead thee. But enter, Estein, if indeed after a king's feast\nthou wilt deign to receive my welcome.\"\n\nHe added the last words with a touch of irony that hardly tended\nto propitiate his guest.\n\n\"I have to thank you, methinks,\" replied Estein, as he entered,\n\"for bringing me to that same banquet.\"\n\nHe found himself in a room that seemed to occupy most of the small\nhouse. One half of it was covered with a wooden ceiling which\nserved as the floor of a loft, while for the rest of the way there\nwas nothing beneath the sloping rafters of the roof. A ladder\nreached from the floor to the loft, and at one end, that nearest\nthe outer door, a fire of logs burned brightly.\n\nAll round the walls hung the skins of many bears and wolves, with\nhere and there a spear or a bow.\n\nAtli left the other man to close the door, and followed Estein up\nto the fire.\n\nHe replied, either not noticing or disregarding the dryness of\nEstein's retort,--\n\n\"I knew well, Estein, thou wouldst come. Something told me thou\nwouldst not linger on my summons.\"\n\n\"Did you then send for me to lead me into this snare?\" said\nEstein, his brows knitting darkly.\n\n\"Does one eagle betray another to the kites and crows?\" replied\nthe old man loftily.\n\nEstein burst out hotly,--\n\n\"Speak plainly, old man! Keep mysteries for Rune-carved staves and\nkindred tricks. What mean this message and this plot and this\nrescue? I have left my truest friend and twenty stout followers\nbesides in yonder hall. I myself have had to flee for my life from\na yelping pack of Jemtland dogs; and for aught I know, Ketill and\nthe rest of my force may be drugged with drink and burned in their\nbeds even while I talk with you. Give me some plain answer?\"\n\nAtli looked at him for a minute, and then replied gravely,--\n\n\"I have heard, indeed, that some strange change had befallen\nEstein Hakonson. There was a time when he who had just saved thy\nlife would have had fairer thanks than this.\"\n\nWith a strong effort Estein controlled his temper and answered\nmore quietly,--\n\n\"You are right. It was another Estein whom you saw before. Bear\nwith me, and go on.\"\n\nHe sat down on a bench as he spoke and gazed into the fire.\n\n\"The gods indeed have dealt heavily with thee,\" said Atli, \"and it\nis at their bidding that I called thee here.\"\n\n\"Spoke they with King Bue also?\" said Estein, with a slight curl\nof his lip, looking all the time at the fire.\n\n\"Nay; hear me out, Estein. I knew that King Hakon would send, ere\nlong, an avenging force to Jemtland.\"\n\n\"He was never the man to forgive an injury,\" he added, apparently\nto himself.\n\n\"So, as thou knowest, I sent that token to thee. Then unquiet\nrumours reached mine ears; for though I live apart from men here\nin this forest, little passes in the country--ay, and in Norway\ntoo--that comes not to Atli's knowledge. I learned of the plot to\ntreacherously entrap thy force, and though I have long lived out\nof Norway my Norse blood boiled within me.\"\n\n\"Could you not have warned us sooner?\" said Estein.\n\n\"Thorar kept his plans secret so long that it was too late to do\naught save what I have done. I sent Jomar to the feast, as thou\nknowest.\"\n\nEstein's guide had been sitting before the fire, consuming a\nsupper of cold meat, and paying little heed to the talk, but at\nthe last words he rose, and throwing the bones on to the flames,\nsaid,--\n\n\"It was by no will of mine; I bear no love to the Norsemen.\"\n\n\"Peace!\" exclaimed Atli sternly. \"Art thou too ungrateful for what\nI have done for thee, and fearless of what I can do?\"\n\n\"Babble on with this Norseman. I am tired,\" replied Jomar, and\nleaving the fire, he rolled himself in a bear-skin, lay down on\nthe floor, and in a trice was fast asleep.\n\n\"Say now to me, Estein,\" continued the old man, \"that thou holdest\nme guiltless of all blame.\"\n\n\"Of all, save the snatching of me away from the fate of Helgi,\"\nreplied Estein sadly. \"Yet I remember that you yourself said that\nour ends should not be far apart, so I think you have but delayed\nmy death a little while.\"\n\n\"Nay, rather,\" cried Atli enthusiastically, \"believe that Helgi\nlives since thy life is safe! I tell thee, Estein, many fair years\nlie before thee. By my mouth, even by old Atli, the gods send a\nmessage to thee!\"\n\nHis exalted tone, the animation of his face, and the flash of his\npale eyes, impressed Estein strongly.\n\n\"By you?\" he inquired with some wonder; \"what then have you to do\nwith me?\"\n\nWith the same ringing voice the old man went on,--\n\n\"Even as over the windows of this poor house there hang those\nskins, so over my life hangs a curtain which may not yet be fully\nlifted--perchance the fates may decree that it shall ever hide me.\nA little, however, I may venture to raise it. Listen, Estein!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE MAGICIAN.\n\n\nAs he said the last words Atli stooped, and lifting two large logs\ncast them on the fire. For a minute he watched them crackle and\nspit sparks, bending his brows as he deliberated how he should\nbegin.\n\nThen he turned to Estein and said,--\n\n\"When I saw thee by the shore at Hernersfiord, now some two years\ngone, didst thou think then that Atli was a stranger?\"\n\n\"I thought so indeed,\" replied Estein, \"though some words you let\nfall pointed otherwise.\"\n\n\"Yet, Estein,\" the old man said, \"when thou wert no higher than\nthat bench whereon thou sittest, I dandled thee in mine arms, and\nthose fingers that now clasp a sword hilt, and, if men say true,\nclasp it right firmly, played once with my beard. Less snow had\nfallen on it then, Estein. Thou canst not remember me?\"\n\nEstein looked at him closely before replying.\n\n\"Nay, Atli, my memory carries me not so far back.\"\n\n\"So it was,\" Atli continued; \"but chiefly was I the friend of\nthine ill-fated brother Olaf.\"\n\n\"Of Olaf?\" exclaimed Estein, with a slight start.\n\n\"Ay, of Olaf. Often have I fought by his side on sea and shore,\nand dearly, more dearly than I ever loved man or woman since, I\nloved the youth. Thou even as a child wert strangely like him in\nfeatures, and as I look upon thee now, there comes back memories\nof blither days. Wonder not then that I long was fain to see\nthee.\"\n\n\"Then why came you not to my father's house?\" said Estein. \"A\nfriend of his son's would ever be welcome.\"\n\n\"Thy father and I fell out,\" replied Atli, \"the wherefore I must\nstill keep behind the shrouding-curtain, but for my present\npurpose it matters little. I could not visit Hakonstad; I could\nnot even stay in the land of my birth. Olaf fell.\"\n\nHis voice trembled a little, and he paused. Estein said nothing,\nbut waited for him to go on. Then in a brisker tone he continued,--\n\n\"For some years I sailed the west seas; but I was growing old and\nmy strength was wearing away with the wet work and the fighting,\nso I hied me home again.\"\n\n\"And my father?\" asked Estein. \"Knew not of my coming,\" Atli\nreplied. \"Of friends and kinsmen I had few left in the land, but I\nhad long had other thoughts for myself than the tilling of fields\nand the emptying of horns at Yule. Often at night had I sat out.\n[Footnote: To \"sit out\" was a method of reading the future\npractised by sorcerers, in which the magician spent the night\nunder the open sky, and summoned the dead to converse with him.] I\nhad read the stars, and talked with divers magicians and men\nskilled in the wisdom of things unseen. I wandered for long among\nthe Finns, I dwelt with the Lapps, and learned the lore of those\nfolks. Then I came to Jemtland, where cunning men were said to\nlive.\"\n\n\"Cunning!\" exclaimed Estein furiously; \"treacherous hounds call them.\"\n\n\"Cunning, indeed, they are,\" said the old man, \"but not wise.\nThis Jomar here is held a spaeman by the people.\"\n\nHe glanced contemptuously at the sleeping figure on the floor.\n\n\"Since I came,\" he went on, \"I have taught him more than he could\nhave learned in a lifetime here and now, as thou hast seen, he\nfears and obeys me as a master. With him I took up my abode,\nliving in a spot known only to few. Yet my thoughts turned\ncontinually to Norway, and chiefly flew to thee, Estein. I dreamt\nof thee often, and at last a voice\"--his own sank almost to a\nwhisper as he spoke--\"a voice bade me seek thee. How I fared thou\nknowest.\"\n\n\"I would that I had given more heed to your warning,\" said Estein\ngloomily.\n\n\"It all came true then?\" cried Atli. \"Nay, there is no need to\nanswer. Truth I tell, and truth must happen.\"\n\n\"Have you, then, further rede to give me?\"\n\n\"Ay, I have heard of this spell and the sore change that has\nbefallen thee, and in my dreams and outsittings I have seen many\nthings--an old man habited in a strange garb, and a maid by his\nside. Ha! flew the shaft true?\"\n\nSo carried away was Estein by the seer's earnestness, and so\nsuddenly did his last words strike home, that the thought never\noccurred to him that this might only be the gossip of his\nfollowers come in time to Atli's ears. It seemed to him an\ninspired insight into his past, and he started suddenly, and then\nsaid slowly,--\n\n\"The shaft indeed flew true.\"\n\n\"For thy brother's sake I owe thee something,\" the old man went\non; \"I might give weighty reason, but I may not. For thine own I\nwish to heal thee, and if I cannot cure this spell there is no man\nwho can.\n\n\"Wilt thou trust me with the story?\" he added, a little dubiously.\n\n\"Ask not that of me,\" replied Estein. \"Tell me what to do, and I\npromise I shall follow the rede.\"\n\nAs if afraid that to ask further questions might weaken the force\nof his words, Atli fell at once into his mystic manner again.\n\n\"For long I wrestled with the visions. The faces of the wizard and\nthe witch\" (Estein's look darkened for an instant), \"I could not\nsee, but at last, in the still night-time, there spoke a voice to\nme, and I knew it came from the gods. For three nights it spoke.\nOn the fourth I sat out, and called to me from far beyond the\nmountains and the lakes, even from beyond the grave, thy brother\nOlaf. He too spoke to me, and every time the purport of the\nmessage was the same.\"\n\n\"What said the voice?\"\n\n\"A ship must cross the seas again.\"\n\nThe old man repeated the last words low and slowly, and then, for\na little, silence fell upon the pair. Vague and meagre though the\nmessage was, it accorded exactly with Estein's long-suppressed\ndesires. So entirely did Atli believe in himself and the virtue of\nhis counsel, that the young Viking was thoroughly infected with\nhis faith; and then, too, it was that early and suggestive hour\nwhen a man is quickly stirred.\n\nEstein was the first to speak.\n\n\"I accept the counsel, Atli,\" he cried, springing to his feet.\n\"With the melting of the snow I shall take to the sea again, and\nsteer for the setting of the sun.\"\n\nThe old seer laid his hand affectionately upon his shoulder.\n\n\"There spoke the brother of Olaf,\" he said. \"And now to sleep. In\nthe morning I shall send Jomar to warn Ketill, so trouble not\nthyself further.\"\n\n\"If I but knew Helgi's fate,\" Estein began.\n\n\"Doubt not my words,\" said Atli. \"His fate is too closely linked\nwith thine.\"\n\nHe showed the Viking to a pallet bed in the loft, where, worn out\nwith fatigue and anxiety, he quickly fell asleep.\n\nIt was nearly noon when he awoke, and the sun was streaming\nthrough the attic window. He found Atli in the room below.\n\n\"I have turned sluggard, it seems,\" he said.\n\n\"Young heads need sleep,\" replied the old man. \"There was no need\nto rise before, or I should have roused thee. Jomar has been gone\nsince daybreak, and till he returns thou canst do naught.\"\n\n\"Naught?\" said Estein. \"Have I not got my foster-brother to seek\nfor? Give me but a meal to carry me till nightfall and I will\naway.\"\n\nAt first the old man endeavoured to dissuade him, but finding he\nwas obdurate, he finally gave him a cap and coat of wolf-skin to\nbe worn over his mail lest he should be seen by any natives, a\ngood bow and arrows, and copious but perplexing directions\nregarding the forest paths. As he sallied forth, and followed the\ntrack by which he had come the night before, his plans were vague\nenough. To make for King Bue's hall, and, taking advantage of the\nwoods that covered all the country, spy out what might be seen,\nwas the hazardous scheme he proposed. Perhaps, he thought, Helgi\nmight be wandering the country too, and if fate was kind they\nmight meet. In any case he could not rest in his state of\nuncertainty, and he pushed boldly on. He smiled as he glanced at\nhis garb: the long wolf-skin coat reached almost to his knees,\nover his legs he had drawn thick-knitted hose to keep out the\ncold, his helmet was hidden by the furry cap, and the only part of\nhis original equipment to be seen were the sword girt round his\nwaist and the long shield that hung upon his back. He had been in\ntwo minds about taking this last, but ere the day was done he had\nreason to congratulate himself that it was with him.\n\nBefore long he struck the open glade they had gone down by\nmoonlight, and following it to the end, he found, after a little\nsearch, the opening of another path. This at last divided into two\ndivergent tracks, and he had to confess himself completely\npuzzled.\n\n\"I seem to be the plaything of fate,\" he exclaimed, after he had\ntried in vain to recall Atli's directions; \"let fate decide, life\nis but made up of the castings of a die,\" and with that he threw\nhis dagger into the air, crying, \"Point right, haft left!\" It\nlanded on its point and sunk almost out of sight in the snow.\n\"Right let it be then,\" he said, and turned down the right-hand\npath.\n\nIt had been so dark and their flight so hurried that nothing\nremained in his memory of the night before, to show him whither\nthe way was leading. He only knew that he had wandered for some\ntime, when a prospect of white, open country began to show in\npeeps through the trees ahead. Presently he came to the edge of\nthe forest, and saw that the cast of his dagger had led him wide\nof his mark. A long stretch of treeless country opened out before\nhim, getting wider and wider in the distance. Near at hand a\nnarrow lake began, and stretched for a mile or two down the\nsnow-fields, and, like the greater lake they had passed, it was frozen\nand shining white. Less than a hundred yards from him, between the\nforest and the water, there lay a small village. A number of men\nstood about among the houses, and from their movements and the\npresence of two or three sledges he judged that a party must\neither have lately arrived, or be on the point of departing. As\nnothing further seemed to happen, he made up his mind that they\nmust be arrivals; and then, seeing little to be gained by waiting\nfurther, he was about to retrace his steps when his attention was\narrested by the appearance of two women. They came out of a house,\nand one, the taller of the two, went up to a group of men standing\nnear, while the other, who looked like a peasant's wife, hung\nbehind. The look of the first figure caught Estein's eye at once,\nand he felt his heart suddenly beat quickly. He could only see her\nback as she talked with the men, but every gesture she made,\nslight though they were, brought sharply and clearly before his\nmind memories of the Holy Isle.\n\n\"By the hammer of Thor and the horse of Odin, this country is\nsurely bewitched,\" he muttered. His fancy, he told himself, was\nplaying him a pleasant trick: he had seen Osla so continually in\nhis mind's eye, that this girl, for girl she seemed, shaped\nherself after his thoughts. That it could be she he loved, there\nin the flesh, was almost laughably impossible; yet as she talked,\napparently with an air of some authority, to the men beside her,\nthe resemblance became at moments stronger, and then again he\nwould say to himself, \"Nay, that is not like her.\" As the men\ngesticulated and answered her their voices came to him\nindistinctly, while hers, strain his hearing as he might, he could\nnot catch. There seemed to be a dispute about something which the\nwhole party were engrossed in, when suddenly one man gave a cry\nand pointed at Estein. Then he saw that in his curiosity he had\nstepped outside the shelter of the wood and stood in a space\nbetween the trees.\n\nAt the man's cry they all looked round, and he saw the girl's\nface.\n\n\"It is she or her spirit,\" he exclaimed.\n\nInstinctively he stepped behind a tree, and at this sign of flight\nthere was a shout from the men. One shot an arrow, which passed\nharmlessly to the side, and then they all came at him. He had only\ntime to see that more villagers were coming out of the houses, and\nthat the girl had turned away to join the other woman, when his\nwits came back to him, and turning into the path he set off as\nfast as he could put his feet to the ground.\n\nFor a time the chase was hot: he could hear the men scattering so\nas to cover the wood behind him, and once or twice the leaders\nseemed near. Estein was fleet of foot, however, and the wood so\ndense that it was hard to follow a man for far, and at last the\nsound of his pursuers died away, and he felt that, for the time at\nleast, he was safe. But he had long left the path, and there was\nnothing to guide him save glimpses of the sinking sun, the ice\nthat showed the north side of twigs and stems, and in more open\nspaces the lie of the branches to the prevalent wind. And as he\nwandered on, his mind hardly grasped the bearing and significance\nof forest clues. Twenty times, at least, he dismissed the\nresemblance he had seen as the work of fancy. The girl had been\ntoo far off to read her features, her figure was not really like,\nand, most weighty argument, it was out of all reason that she\nshould be in this land of forests, so distant from her island\nhome. Still each time he dismissed it the resemblance came back\nfresh and strong, to be sent away again. He had lost all idea of\nwhere he was, and the sun had already set, when more by good luck\nthan by good guidance, the trees grew thinner in front, and he\nfound himself once more in the glade of the stream.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nARROW AND SHIELD.\n\n\nIt seemed strangely still and fresh in the open glade. The blood-red\nglamour of a frosty sunset was fading from the sky as the\ndaylight died away; all round the wood was populous with shadows;\nand over its ragged edge the moon hung pale and faint.\n\nEstein walked down a little way, and then stopped and listened. He\ncould hear the stream rumbling over the stones, but not another\nsound. Then the far-off howl of a wolf struck dismally on his ear.\nTwice it sounded and passed away, leaving the silence more\nintense, while all the time the air grew colder. All at once a\ndead branch snapped sharply. Estein looked round keenly, but in\nthe dusk of the pine stems his eye could pick out nothing. For a\nminute everything was still, and then a twig cracked again. This\ntime he could see plainly a man come from behind a tree and stand\nin the outskirts of the wood. For a minute they stood looking at\neach other. The man, so far as he could discern in the waning\nlight, wore the native skin coat and cap, and seemed to hold in\nhis hands a bow ready to shoot.\n\nEstein quietly drew an arrow from his quiver and laid it on his\nbow. Just as he cast his eye down to fit the notch to the string,\nthere was a twang from the wood; an arrow whizzed, and stuck hard\nin his fur cap, stopping only at the steel of his helmet.\n\n\"This archer will deem my fur is of singular proof,\" he said to\nhimself, with the flicker of a smile, as he let a shaft fly in\nreturn. He could see his foe move to one side, and heard his arrow\nstrike a branch. Instantly the man fired again, and this time\nstruck him on the breast, and the arrow, checked by the ring-mail\nbeneath, hung from his wolf-skin coat.\n\nHe smiled to himself again, and thought, \"Never, surely, has that\nbowman shot at so stout a garment. Yet he shoots hard and\nstraight. I wish not to meet with a stronger archer, and could do\nwell with a worse one now.\" And with that he took his shield from\nhis back.\n\nHis situation was indeed far from safe, and he had to come to some\ninstant decision. Standing in the open against the snow, he\noffered a fair mark, while his opponent among the trees was hard\nto see and harder to hit. To try to rush so good an archer, though\nrisky, would certainly have been his scheme, had he not strongly\nsuspected that this one man was set as a decoy to tempt him into\nan ambush. His blood was up, and he vowed that run he would not at\nany cost; and, in fact, flight was far from easy, for behind him\nlay the stream, and in crossing he must expose himself.\n\nIt took him but a moment to turn the alternatives over in his\nmind, and then he suddenly hit upon a plan. His shield was one of\nthe long, heart-shaped kind, coming to a point at the lower end,\nand covering him down to the knee as he stood upright. He raised\nit high, and driving the point hard into the ground, dropped on\none knee behind it. As he stooped a third arrow sang close above\nhis head and sped into the gloaming. Leaning to one side he fired\nagain, and an instant later a fourth shaft rang on his shield.\nThen came a brief pause in the hostilities, and, looking round the\nedge of his fort, Estein could see his foe standing motionless\nclose under a tree. He soon tired of waiting, however, and\npresently an arrow, aimed evidently at what he could see of\nEstein's legs, passed within six inches of one knee and buried\nitself in the snow beside him.\n\n\"He shoots too well,\" muttered Estein. \"If this goes on I must try\na desperate ruse. I shall have one other shot.\"\n\nHe rose almost to his full height, fired his arrow, and quickly\nstooped again. His enemy was evidently on the watch for such an\nopening, for the two bowstrings twanged together, and while\nEstein's shaft struck something with a soft thud, the other hit\nthe Viking hard on the headpiece.\n\nThrowing up his arms, he reeled and fell flat upon his back. Yet,\nas he lay for all the world like a man struck dead, a smile stole\nover his face, and he quietly and gently drew his sword.\n\n\"Can my shaft have gone home?\" he wondered. Apparently not, for\nhis foeman left the shelter of the wood, and he could see him walk\nslowly across the open. He was clad in a loose and almost\ngrotesquely ill-fitting garment, seemingly of sheep-skin, and held\nan arrow on his bow ready to shoot on a sign of movement. When he\nhad come within ten or fifteen yards, he suddenly dropped his bow,\ndrew his sword, and stepped quickly forward. At the same instant\nEstein jumped to his feet, and with a shout sprang at him. The\nblades were on the point of crossing, when his enemy stopped\nshort, dropped his point, and then burst into an uncontrollable\nfit of laughter.\n\n\"Estein, by the beard of Thor!\" he gasped.\n\n\"Helgi!\" cried his quondam foe.\n\nThey looked each other in the face for an instant, and then\nsimultaneously broke out into another fit of mirth.\n\n\"By my faith, Estein, that was a plan worthy of yourself!\" cried\nHelgi. \"But 'tis lucky I fired not at you on the ground, as I had\nsome thoughts of doing, knowing the trickery of these\nJemtlanders.\"\n\n\"Two things I feared,\" replied Estein. \"One that you might do\nthat; the other, that a troop of as villainous-looking knaves as\nyou now are yourself might hive out of the wood behind you. But\nhow did you escape last night, and how came you here?\"\n\n\"Those are the questions I would ask of you,\" said Helgi; \"but one\nstory at a time, and shortly this is mine--a tale, Estein, that\nfor credit to its teller, yoked with truthfulness, I will freely\nback against yours or ever I hear it.\"\n\n\"I doubt it not,\" replied his friend, with a smile; \"you have the\nlook of one who is high in favour with himself.\"\n\n\"As I ought!\" cried Helgi. \"But hear me, and gibe not before the\nend. I left that hall, accursed of the gods, and over full, I\nfear, of drunken men, in the manner you witnessed. My counterfeit\nof drunkenness was so exceedingly lifelike, that even when I got\noutside I felt my head buzz round in the fresh air and my legs\nsway more than is their wont. 'Friend Helgi,' I said to myself,\n'you have drunk not one horn too few if you value your life at its\nproper worth.' Upon that I applied a handful of snow to my face,\nand thereupon, on counting my fingers, was able to get within one\nof the customary number--erring, if I remember rightly, upon the\ngenerous side, as befitted my disposition. But to get on to the\nmoving part of my adventures--Where do you take me now?\"\n\n\"'Tis all right,\" replied Estein, \"I take you to supper and a\nfire. They come in my story.\"\n\n\"Lead on then,\" said Helgi. \"To continue my tale: I walked with\nmuch assurance up to the gateway, singing, I remember, the song of\nOdin and the Jotun to prove the clearness of my head. There I\nfound a sentinel who, it seemed, had lately been sharing in the\nhospitality of King Bue. Certain it is that he was more than half\ndrunk, and so fast asleep that he woke not even at my singing, and\nI had to prod him with the hilt of my sword to arouse the\nsluggard.\"\n\n\"Then you woke him!\" exclaimed Estein, between amusement and\nsurprise.\n\n\"How else could I pass? The man leaned so heavily upon the gate,\nthat wake him I must, for I liked not to slay a sleeping man, even\nthough he stood upon his feet. He looked upon me like a startled\ncow, and said, 'You are a cursed Norseman.' 'It would seem so,\nindeed,' I replied, and thereupon ran him through with my blade\nand opened the gate. Then a plan both humorous and ingenious came\nupon my mind, for my wits were strangely sharp. I laid the man out\nunder the shadow of the fence, where he could not well be seen\nsave by such as had more clearness of vision than becomes the\nguests of so hospitable a monarch as King Bue, and having stripped\nhim of his coat and put it round mine own shoulders, I took his\nplace and awaited your coming.\"\n\n\"Singing all the while?\" said Estein.\n\n\"Softly and to myself,\" replied Helgi; \"for what is becoming\nenough in a guest is not always so well suited to a sentinel.\nThere I stood, stamping my feet and beating my arms upon my breast\nto keep the cold away, till I began to think that something was\namiss.\"\n\n\"Then while I was scaling the wall at one end of the court, you\nwere guarding the gate at the other!\" exclaimed Estein.\n\n\"So it would appear now, though I pledge you my word I had no\nthought of such a thing as I watched that gate last night. In\ntruth, what I had done began to seem to me so plainly the best\nthing to do, that I thought you would surely follow my movements\nin your mind--so far as drink allowed you, and come straightway to\nthe gate in full confidence of finding me on duty. I see now that\nyour plan had its merits, though I still maintain that mine was\nthe better.\"\n\n\"Saving only in so far as it left me at the trysting-place alone,\"\nsaid Estein.\n\n\"And me to shiver at the gate,\" answered Helgi, with a laugh.\n\"Well, after a time, which seemed long enough, though doubtless a\nshorter space than I thought, the hall door opened, and men rushed\nout with much needless uproar. Then, I must confess, I e'en left\nmy post with all the haste I could, and concealed me in the\noutbuildings of a small house close without the gate. The door was\nopen, but it was so pitch black inside that I knew they could not\nsee me, though them I saw plainly enough as they stopped at the\ngate.\"\n\n\"Who were they?\" asked Estein.\n\n\"The black traitor Thorar, and with him some ten or twelve others,\ndoubtless all the sober men at the feast. It took them but a short\nspace to find the dead sentinel; and thereupon Thorar, who seemed\nalmost beside himself with anger, sent the others off in haste to\nintercept our road to Ketill, while he himself ran to collect a\nforce from the village. Then I bethought me it was well to have\ncompany on the road, so I even joined myself to my pursuers.\nLuckily they went not by the open glade, but kept a path well\nshaded and very dark, and for the best part of an hour we must\nhave run together through the wood.\n\n\"At last we reached a solitary woodman's house, and there for a\nbrief space we paused to inquire of the good man whether he had\nseen us pass that way. It was a wise inquiry, and the answer was\nsuch as an entirely sober man might have reasonably expected. The\nwoodman was in the village at the feast, and his wife, good woman,\nhad been in bed for the last two hours, and strangely enough had\nnot seen us. So our brisk lads started off at the run again. But\nthere we parted company, for I was tired of chasing myself, and\nthe woman had a pleasant voice, and, so far as I could see, a\ncomely countenance.\"\n\nEstein laughed aloud. \"My story will seem a tame narrative after\nthis,\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Did not I say so,\" said Helgi. \"Well, I fell behind, and\npresently was knocking up the good woman again, for I said to\nmyself, 'These dogs will not surely come to this house a second\ntime, and a night in the cold woods is not to my liking.' So to\nmake a long story short, I wrought so upon the tender heart of the\nwoodman's wife that, Norseman as I was, she gave me shelter and\nbed, and promised to send me off in the morning before her husband\nreturned.\"\n\n\"As most wives would,\" interposed Estein.\n\nHelgi laughed. \"Fate had decided otherwise,\" he continued. \"Even\nas I was eating my morning meal, the goodwife waiting on me most\ncourteously, the door opened and the husband entered. I saw from\nthe man's ugly look that all his wife's wiles were lost upon him;\nbut the dog was a cowardly dog, and feared the game he thirsted to\nfix his treacherous teeth in. He had nothing for it but to equip\nme with this great sheep-skin coat and cap, and a stout bow and\nsheaf of arrows; and then, after a most kindly parting with his\ngoodwife, I made him set me on my way to Ketill. He liked not the\njob over much, yet he dared not refuse, and so we started. I\nshrewdly suspected, from my memory of the way I had come\novernight, that he was leading me back to King Bue's hall, and\nmeant on our parting to put a horde of his rascally fellows in my\nway. I cared little, however, for I had mine own ending for our\nwalk. When we had gone a little way I stopped and said to him,--\n\n\"'My friend, I am loth to lose your company, but here is the\nparting of our ways. Mine I need not trouble you with, but yours\nfor a space will lead you little further in any direction.' And\nwith that I bound him firmly to a tree, and left him to think upon\nhis misdeeds. Since then, Estein, I have wandered through these\nforests like a man in a fog, cursing roundly the land and all its\ninhabitants.\"\n\n\"Yet it would seem that it is they who have most reason to\ncomplain of your dealings with them,\" said Estein, smiling.\n\n\"I would I were well quit of the land,\" replied his friend. \"My\nheart felt glad when I saw in the glade a man habited after the\nfashion of the natives. 'There will be one less Jemtlander to-night,'\nI said, as I laid an arrow on my bow. 'By all the gods,\nEstein, I shall laugh whenever I think of it!\n\n\"But tell me your adventures.\"\n\nEstein told him shortly what had befallen him, excepting only his\nseeing the girl in the village. He had made up his mind that the\nresemblance must have been the work of fancy, yet as soon as they\nhad reached the house of Atli, he took the old man aside, and\nasked him,--\n\n\"Shall I then sail when the snows have melted?\"\n\n\"Assuredly,\" replied the seer; \"wouldst thou delay what the gods\nand the dead enjoin?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE MIDNIGHT GUEST.\n\n\nJomar had returned early in the day, and they found him already\nwrapped up in his bear-skin fast asleep before the fire.\n\n\"Gave he my warning to Ketill?\" Estein asked Atli.\n\n\"Assuredly,\" replied the old man; \"I have never known him fail me,\nlittle though he may have liked the errand.\"\n\n\"And what said Ketill? Had they been attacked? What news brought\nJomar back?\"\n\n\"Let us wake the knave, and ask him,\" said Helgi; and suiting the\naction to the word, he drove one foot sufficiently hard into the\nsleeper's side to rouse him with a start.\n\n\"What said friend Ketill?\" Helgi went on, careless of the man's\nugly look; \"sent he back any message?\"\n\nJomar answered with a dark scowl, regarding him steadily for a\nminute as if to make sure who he was, and then he snapped back\nshortly,--\n\n\"He said he had lost a dog that answered to the name of Helgi, and\nwould be well pleased if the beast had died of the mange in the\nwood,\" and without another word he rolled over and closed his eyes\nagain.\n\n\"'Dog!'\" cried Helgi. \"Hound, I will beat one dog as it deserves!\"\n\nIn another instant the Jemtlander would have suffered for his\ntemerity, had not Atli seized the angry Norseman's arm,\nexclaiming,--\n\n\"Peace, Helgi Sigvaldson! Wouldst thou strike my servant in mine\nown house? The man loves not Norsemen, yet has he saved thy\nfoster-brother's life, and likely, too, those of Ketill and all\nhis company.\"\n\n\"Tell us, Atli,\" interposed Estein, \"what he said on his return.\"\n\n\"Little he told even me,\" replied Atli, \"save that he had seen\nKetill for the briefest possible space, and then returned\nstraightway home.\"\n\n\"Did he hear aught of the twenty good men who followed us to King\nBue's hall?\"\n\nIt was Jomar himself who replied, though without turning over or\nlooking at the speaker.\n\n\"Would you have me save them, too, from their fate? I heard naught\nof them, and wish only to hear of their deaths. Too many enemies\nhave I helped already.\"\n\nHelgi was about to reply hotly, but Atli checked him with a\ngesture, whispering,--\n\n\"Will not his deeds atone for his words?\"\n\nLow as he spoke, Jomar caught the words, and muttered loud enough\nto be heard,--\n\n\"Would that my words might become my deeds.\"\n\nNothing about the mysterious old man had impressed Estein more\nthan his extraordinary influence over this strange disciple or\nservant, for he seemed to be partly both; and that one who so\nloathed and hated the Norsemen could be made to serve his enemies\nat a word, seemed to point to a power beyond the ken of ordinary\nman. Helgi, too, was evidently struck, for he looked askance from\none to the other, and then fell silent.\n\nBy sunrise next morning, the foster-brothers arranged to start for\nKetill under Jomar's guidance, and little time was lost in getting\nto bed. They went up to the loft by the ladder, heard Atli open a\ndoor and evidently enter some inner room, then being very drowsy\nafter the cold air, shortly fell asleep.\n\nYet the night was not to pass without incident. Helgi knew not how\nlong he had been asleep, when he woke with a shiver, to find that\nhis blankets had slipped off him. He gathered them over him again,\nand then lay for a few minutes listening to the rising wind. As it\nbeat up in mournful gusts and soughed through the pines, he said\nto himself, \"The frost has left at last, and thankful am I for\nthat.\" He was just dropping off to sleep again, when his attention\nwas startled into wakefulness by a knock at the outer door. It was\nrepeated twice, and then he heard Jomar rise with much growling,\nand go softly across the floor. There followed a parley apparently\nthrough a closed door, which ended in a bolt shooting back, and\nthe door opening with a whistle of wind. So far he had been in\nthat half-waking state when things produce a confused and almost\nmonstrous impression, but suddenly his wits were startled into\nquickness. Among several voices that seemed to talk with Jomar,\nhis ear all at once caught a woman's. Even the approach of an\nenemy could not have made him more alert. He listened keenly and,\nwith a sensible feeling of disappointment, heard the door close,\nthe noise cease, and Jomar's steps quietly cross the floor again.\nThis time, however, they went right to the other end of the room,\nand an inner door opened. He thought he caught Atli's tones\nanswering his sullen servant, and presently he heard two men come\nout and go to the outer door. Again, with a blast of cold draught,\nit opened, and the talk began a second time. His curiosity was\nkeenly excited; he could pick out a woman's voice most\nunmistakably, and at last he heard the conference come to an end.\nThe door closed, the party seemed to go away, and then whispering\nbegan in the room below him.\n\n\"The woman has come in!\" he said to himself, with a start of\nexcitement. \"Helgi, this matter needs your attention.\"\n\nHis bed, the outermost of the two, consisted merely of a coarse\nmattress laid so far back in the loft that the edge of the\nflooring hid all view of the room below. Very softly he proceeded\nto throw off the blankets and crawl quietly towards the edge, till\nhe had gone far enough to get a clear sight of the fire. There he\nlay, and smiled to himself at the prospect below.\n\nThe fire had been raked up to burn brightly, and Jomar, as before,\nlay fast asleep beside it; but between Helgi and the blaze stood\nthe old seer and the hooded and cloaked form of a woman. Her face\nwas hidden, but her back, the watcher thought, promised well. She\nwas tall, and seemed young, and her movements, as she held out her\nhands to the flames, or half turned to address the old man, had\ngrace and the marks of good birth. They talked so low that Helgi\ncould catch nothing they said, and even the quality of the girl's\nvoice only reached him in snatches.\n\n\"A pleasant voice, methinks,\" he said to himself. \"Atli, this\nbooty must be shared.\"\n\nShe seemed to be telling a narrative to Atli, who, with folded\narms and deep attention that sometimes passed into suppressed\nemotion, looked intently at her, and frequently broke in with some\nwhispered question.\n\nThe Viking had not been watching very long when the girl's voice\nrose a little as she said something earnestly, and Atli, with a\nslight movement and a warning frown, glanced up at the loft and\npointed with one finger straight at where Helgi lay. Instantly he\ndropped his head, and as quickly as he dared crawled back to bed\nagain. There was silence for a moment, but apparently they\nsuspected nothing, for the whispered talk went on again.\n\n\"By valour or guile I shall see that maiden's face,\" he said to\nhimself, as he lay revolving possible schemes in his mind.\n\nAt last the whispering stopped, and Atli's step crossed the room\nand passed into the inner apartment. The door closed behind him,\nand then saying to himself, \"Now or never, my friend,\" Helgi\nquietly slipped into his sheep-skin coat, and stepping softly so\nas not to disturb Estein or the seer, came boldly down the ladder.\n\nThe girl's look, as he turned at the foot and faced her, stuck in\nhis mind for long after. Consternation and her sense of the\nludicrous were having such an obvious struggle in every feature,\nthat after looking straight into her face for a moment, he fairly\nburst into a silent convulsion of laughter that shook him till he\nhad to steady himself by a rung of the ladder. So infectious was\nit, that after the briefest conflict, consternation fled the\nfield, a little smile appeared, and then a merrier, and in a\nmoment she was laughing with him. And certainly for a man commonly\nmost careful of his appearance, he cut a comical enough figure,\nwith his shoeless feet and tangled hair, and the great ill-fitting\nsheep-skin coat huddled round him to hide the poverty beneath.\n\n\"I fear my habit pleases not your eye,\" he said at last, striving\nto control his countenance.\n\n\"It is--\" she began, and then her gravity for an instant forsook\nher again. \"It is highly befitting,\" she said, more soberly and a\nlittle shyly.\n\n\"In truth, a garb to win a maiden's heart; but I recked not of my\nclothing, I was in such haste to see the maid,\" said Helgi boldly.\n\nShe looked at him with some surprise, and just a sufficient touch\nof dignity to check the dash of his advances. He saw the change,\nand quickly added,--\n\n\"To be quite honest with you, I knew not indeed that you were\nhere, and feeling cold I came down to warm me. I should ask your\npardon.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" she said; \"how could you know that I was here? I have\nonly just arrived.\"\n\n\"And I,\" replied Helgi, \"leave early in the morning, though now I\nwould fain stay longer. So you will soon forget the man in the\nsheepskin coat who so alarmed you.\"\n\n\"But not the coat,\" she said demurely, her blue eyes lighting up\nagain. Helgi's vanity was a little stung, but he answered gaily,--\n\n\"I then will remember your face, and you--\"\n\nAt that instant a door opened, and turning suddenly he saw Atli\ncome from behind a great bearskin that concealed the entrance to\nhis inner chamber. The old man's face grew dark with displeased\nsurprise, yet he hesitated for an instant, as if uncertain what to\ndo. Then he came up to the girl and said,--\n\n\"Thy chamber is ready for thee.\" To Helgi he added, \"I would speak\nwith thee, Helgi.\"\n\nThe girl at once left the fire, and followed him back to the other\nroom. As she turned away, Helgi said,--\n\n\"Farewell, lady.\"\n\n\"Farewell,\" she answered frankly, with a smile, and went out with\nAtli.\n\n\"A bold raid and a lucky one,\" said the Viking complacently to\nhimself. \"A fairer face and brighter eyes I never saw before. Who\ncan she be? Like enough some lady come to hear the spaeman's\nmystic jargon, and swallow potions or mutter spells at his\nbidding. I am in two minds about turning wizard myself, if such\nvisitors be common. Methinks I could give her as wise a rede as\nAtli. But it is strange how she came here; she is not of this\ncountry, I'll be sworn.\"\n\nHis reflections were cut short by the entrance of Atli.\n\n\"Helgi,\" said the old man, still speaking very low, \"thou hast\nseen that which ought to have remained hidden from thee.\"\n\n\"But which was well worthy of the seeing,\" said Helgi.\n\n\"Speak not so lightly,\" replied the old man sternly, and with that\nair of mystery he could make so impressive. \"Thou knowest not what\nthings are behind the veil, or how much may hang upon a word. I\ncharge thee strictly that thou sayest no word of this to Estein;\nthere are matters that should not come to the ears of kings.\"\n\n\"I shall say nothing to any one,\" Helgi answered more soberly.\n\n\"That is well said,\" replied Atli. \"Sleep now, for the dawn draws\nnigh, and the way is long.\"\n\nHelgi had just got back to the loft and was throwing off his coat\nagain, when Estein suddenly rose on his elbow and looked at him,\nand for a minute he felt like a criminal caught in the act.\n\n\"Have I been dreaming, Helgi?\" said his foster-brother,\n\"or--or--where have you been?\"\n\n\"To warm myself at the fire,\" replied Helgi readily.\n\n\"Spoke you with any one?\"\n\n\"Ay; Atli heard me and came to see whether perchance a thief had\ncome in to carry away his two Norsemen.\"\n\n\"Then I only dreamt,\" said Estein, passing his hand across his\neyes. \"I thought I heard the voice of a girl; but when I woke more\nfully, it was gone, indeed. It sounded like--but it was my dream;\"\nand lying down again, he closed his eyes.\n\n\"Should I tell him?\" thought Helgi; \"nay, I promised Atli, and\nafter all this is mine own adventure.\"\n\nBy the time the day had fairly broken, they were away under\nJomar's guidance.\n\n\"Remember, Estein, my rede,\" said Atli, as they departed.\n\n\"When the snows melt,\" cried Estein in reply; \"and I think I shall\nnot have long to wait.\"\n\nIt was a raw, grey, blustering morning, with no smell of frost in\nthe air, but rather every sign of thaw, and the old man, after\nwatching the two tall mail-clad figures stride off with their\ndwarfish guide hastening in front, closed the door, and turned\nwith a grave and weary look back to the fire.\n\nHardly had he come in when the inner door opened, and the girl\nentered hastily.\n\n\"Who was that other man?\" she asked. \"I saw but his back, and\nyet--\" she stopped with a little confusion, for Atli was regarding\nher with a look of keen surprise.\n\n\"Knowest thou him?\" he asked. \"Where hast thou seen him before?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered, with an affectation of indifference, as if\nashamed of her curiosity, \"I only wondered who he might be.\"\n\n\"He is a certain trader from Norway, whom men call Estein,\" said\nAtli, still looking at her curiously.\n\n\"I know not the name,\" she said; and then adding with a slight\nshiver, \"How cold this country is,\" she turned abruptly and left\nthe room again.\n\nThe old man remained lost in thought. \"Strange, passing strange,\"\nhe muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead. \"Can she have seen\nhim? Or can it be--\"\n\nHis eyes suddenly brightened, and he began to pace the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nTHE LAST OF THE LAWMAN.\n\n\nIn silence and haste the three men pursued their way. A thaw had\nset in, chill and cloudy; underfoot the snow was soft and melting,\nand all through the forest they heard the drip of a thousand trees\nand the creaking and swinging of boughs in the wind. As the\nmorning wore on and they warmed to their work, the two Norsemen\ntalked a little with each other, but contrary to their wont of\nlate, it was Estein who spoke oftenest and seemed in the better\nspirits. Helgi, for him, was quiet and thoughtful, and at last\nEstein exclaimed,--\n\n\"How run your thoughts, Helgi? on the next feast, or the last\nmaid, or the man you left bound to the tree? Men will think we\nhave changed natures if our talk goes as it has this morning.\"\n\n\"I had a strange dream last night,\" replied Helgi.\n\n\"Tell it to me, and I will expound it to a flagon or an eyelash,\nas the theme may chance to be.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" cried Helgi, with a sudden return to his usual buoyancy,\n\"now that I have my old Estein back with me, I will not turn him\nagain into a reader of dreams and omens. I am rejoiced to see you\nin so bright a humour. Had you a pleasant dream?\"\n\n\"Action lies before me,\" said Estein--\"the open sea and the lands\nof the south again; and the very prospect is medicine.\"\n\nAfter a time Estein came up to their guide's side, and said,--\n\n\"It will take us surely longer than you said. We had to travel for\nlong through open country when we left the town, and we have never\nreached the beginning of it yet.\"\n\nJomar gave a quick, contemptuous laugh, and answered shortly,--\n\n\"Think you then that Thorar brought you by the shortest route?\nThose prisoners whom you set free reached King Bue's hall many\nhours before you. You are not wise, you Northmen.\"\n\nEstein looked for a moment as though he would have retorted\nsharply, but biting his lip he fell back again, nor did he\nexchange another word with the man.\n\nIt was about mid-day, when, as they were coming down a wooded\nslope, Helgi exclaimed,--\n\n\"Hark! what is that clamour?\"\n\nJomar too heard the shouts, for he stopped for a moment and\nlistened keenly, and then started off faster than before. With\nevery step they took the distant sounds grew louder and the shouts\nof men, and even it seemed the clash of steel, could be\ndistinguished.\n\n\"The attack is made,\" cried Helgi. \"Pray the gods they scatter not\nthe dogs before we come up.\"\n\nJomar heard him, and looked over his shoulder with a savage\nglance.\n\n\"Sometimes dogs bite and rend,\" he said.\n\n\"Why have they waited so long?\" said Estein, half to himself. \"The\nfools should have fallen on Ketill that very night. I thank them\nfor their folly.\"\n\nThey had now broken into a run, and the uproar sounded so loud\nthat they knew they must be close upon the town.\n\n\"Some one comes,\" exclaimed Helgi, and just as he spoke a man\ndashed past them in the opposite direction, and throwing them only\na startled glance, disappeared among the trees behind. A minute\nlater two others ran by to one side, and a fourth stopped and\nturned when he came upon them. All were Jemtlanders, and Jomar,\nwhen he saw them, cursed aloud, while the Norsemen pressed the\nmore excitedly forward.\n\nThirty yards further and they were at the edge of the wood,\nstopping at a spot not far from where the expedition first came\nout upon the town. The great lake and the open country lay below\nthem, white still, but with all the sheen and sparkle off them,\nand overhung now by a grey, wet-weather sky. But they took little\nnote of sky or snow-fields, for their eyes were enthralled by a\nmore stirring spectacle.\n\nOver the little town rolled a dense and smoky canopy, and from\neach doomed house the flames leapt and danced. All around it the\nplain was alive with the signs and terrors of war they saw, black\nagainst the snow, men flying over the open country, turning\nsometimes for the woods, or sometimes sliding and running across\nthe frozen lake, the shouts of the pursuers came to them in a\nconfusion of uproar, and here and there out over the waste, and\nmore thickly near the town, the dead lay scattered. The battle was\nat an end. Small parties of Norsemen were still driving the\nvanquished Jemtlanders before them cutting them down as they fled;\nbut the main force seemed already to be devoting itself to the\nburning and sacking of the town, and Helgi sighed as he\nexclaimed,--\n\n\"Too late after all! the cowardly rabble could not even fight till\nwe had come to join in the sport.\"\n\nLike an infuriated animal Jomar turned upon him.\n\n\"Whelp of a Norseman!\" he cried, drawing his dagger and springing\nforward, \"never more--\"\n\nAs he spoke, Estein, who stood between them, had just time to\nthrow out one foot and bring the Jemtlander flat on his face, his\ndagger flying from his hand. After looking for a moment in\nastonishment at their fallen guide, his would-be victim burst out\nlaughing, and picking up the dagger, handed it back to him,\nsaying,--\n\n\"I forgot, friend Jomar, that you were so nigh me. You owed me\nsomething, indeed, but try not to pay it like that again, for your\nown sake.\"\n\nThe man took the dagger sullenly and answered,--\n\n\"I hope never more to see either of you. Go down to the town now,\nif you can reach it without losing your way again, and my curse go\nwith you.\"\n\nWithout waiting for reply or reward, he left them abruptly, and\ndisappeared in the wood. \"That is a man I am glad to see the last\nof,\" said Helgi, as they started for the town. \"It can only be by\nblack magic that Atli made him serve us.\"\n\n\"It is strange indeed,\" replied Estein, thoughtfully. \"I have\nnoted before that a powerful mind has a strong influence on men of\nless wisdom, yet like enough there is something more besides.\"\n\nWhen they had come near enough to be recognized, a loud and joyful\nshout went up from their men; one after another of the victors ran\nout to meet them, and it was with quite a company at their back\nthat they entered the burning town. In the open market-place,\nround which most of the houses stood, they found Ketill, his\narmour dinted and smeared with blood, and his eyes gleaming with\nstern excitement. At last he had got his burning, and he was\nenjoying it to the full. A batch of captives had just been\npitilessly decapitated, their gory heads and trunks were strewn on\nthe crimson snow, and beside them lay five or six more, their legs\nbound by ropes, awaiting their turn.\n\nInured though he was to spectacles of blood and carnage, Estein's\nmind recoiled from such a scene of butchery as this, and he\nreplied to Ketill's shout of astonishment and welcome,--\n\n\"Right glad I am to see this victory, Ketill, and gallantly you\nmust have fought, but when has it become our custom to slay our\nprisoners?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" answered Helgi, \"we could well have missed this part.\"\n\n\"Know you not that the Jemtlanders slew the twenty who followed\nyou to King Bue?\" answered the black-bearded captain. \"They slew\nthem like cattle, Estein; and shall we spare the murderers now? I\nknew not also whether you and Helgi had fallen into their hands,\nand in case ill had happened to you, it seemed best to take\nvengeance on the chance.\"\n\n\"Then since I need no revenge, let the slaying cease,\" said\nEstein, \"though in truth the treacherous dogs ill deserve mercy.\"\n\n\"As you list,\" replied Ketill; \"yet there is one here who would be\nbetter out of the world than in it.\"\n\nAs he spoke he went up to one prisoner who was lying on his side,\nwith his face pressed down into the snow, like one sorely wounded,\nand in no gentle fashion turned him over with his foot.\n\n\"Can you not let me die?\" said the man, looking up coldly and\nproudly at his captors, though he was evidently at death's door.\n\"It will not take long now.\"\n\n\"Thorar!\" exclaimed Estein.\n\n\"You have named me, Estein,\" replied the wounded lawman. \"I had\nhoped to witness thy death, now thou canst witness mine.\"\n\n\"Treacherous foe and faithless friend,\" said Estein, sternly,\n\"well have you deserved this death.\"\n\n\"Faithless to whom?\" replied Thorar. \"To my king and master Bue I\nalone owed allegiance. Long have I planned how to rid us of your\nproud and cruel race, and I thought the time had come. Witless and\nconfident ye walked into my snare, like men blindfolded; and it\nwas the doing of the gods, and not of you, that my plan\nmiscarried.\"\n\n\"'Witless and confident?'\" answered Estein. \"Say rather trustful\nof pledges that only a dastard would break.\"\n\n\"The strong and foolish fight with weapons suited to their hands,\"\nsaid Thorar; \"the weak and wise with weapons suited to their\nheads.\"\n\n\"So hands, it seems, are better than heads,\" put in Helgi.\n\n\"Know this at least,\" exclaimed Ketill, \"your sons have perished\nbefore you. I slew them in the outset of the battle.\"\n\nThe dying man laughed a ghastly laugh.\n\n\"My sons!\" he cried. \"Think you I would trust my sons with\nNorsemen? Those boys were thralls. They died for their country as\nI die,\" and his head fell back upon the snow.\n\n\"Dastard!\" cried Ketill, \"you die indeed.\"\n\nHe raised his sword as he spoke; but Estein caught his arm before\nit could descend, saying,--\n\n\"You cannot slay the dead, Ketill.\"\n\n\"Has he baulked me then?\" said Ketill, bending over his fallen\nfoe.\n\nIt was even so. The lawman had gone to his last account, his bolt\nimpotently shot, and his enemies standing triumphantly over him.\n\n\"He at least died well,\" said Helgi; \"when my turn comes may it be\nmy luck to look as proudly on my foes. But tell us, Ketill, what\nbefell you here since our parting.\"\n\nThe burly captain frowned and scratched his head, as though\ndeliberating how to do a thing so foreign to his genius as the\ntelling of a narrative.\n\n\"On a certain day you left us,\" he began.\n\n\"Well told indeed,\" cried Helgi, laughing, \"an excellent\nbeginning--no skald could do it better.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" replied Ketill, frowning angrily, \"if you want matter for a\njest, tell a tale yourself. Mine have been no boy's deeds.\"\n\n\"Take no offence,\" replied Helgi, still laughing; \"tell your deeds\nof derring-do, and let Thor himself envy, I will undertake to make\nyou laugh at mine own adventures afterwards.\"\n\n\"I will warrant your doings will make me laugh rather than envy,\"\nsaid Ketill. \"But, as I said, you left us, and so we were left\nhere without you.\"\n\n\"Nay, Ketill,\" interposed his tormentor, very seriously, \"this\nstory passes belief, impose not on my youth.\"\n\n\"How mean you?\" exclaimed the black-bearded captain, wrathfully,\nhis hand seeking his sword hilt.\n\n\"Peace, Helgi,\" cried Estein, who saw that his good offices were\nneeded; \"and you, Ketill, heed not his jests. He is but young and\nfoolish.\"\n\n\"And slender,\" added the irrepressible Helgi, though not loud\nenough for Ketill to hear, and the stout Viking resumed his story,\nsulkily enough.\n\n\"So were we left here in this town. Cold it was, with little to\ndo, so we even broached Thorar's ale forthwith. Presently a man\nwho had been in the woods came in hastily to tell me he had\ndisturbed two of these hounds of Jemtlanders spying on the town.\nIt behoved me then to be careful, and I set guards, and was not\ntoo drunk myself that night. Upon the next morning one came in\nwith tidings of a man who had left a message for me, though he\nwould not say who sent him.\"\n\n\"That would be friend Jomar,\" said Helgi.\n\n\"I know not his name, but treachery, he said, was determined; and\nI stopped all drink thereafter, and there was nothing at all left\nthen but to play with dice and sleep. A little later this Thorar\ncame to the town, and would have persuaded me to follow you to the\nking; and when I asked for some token he showed me a ring he said\nwas yours. Mine own mind is not attentive to these gew-gaws, but a\nman whose eyes were sharp before a Jemtland axe clove his head\nthis morning knew it for none of yours.\"\n\n\"Did you not seize him at once?\" said Estein.\n\n\"I was for taking him on the spot, but we spoke without the town,\nand he had such a company along with him that after a sharp bout\nhe got off, though he left three of his lads on the snow.\n\n\"May werewolves seize me if this be not dry work! Ho' there,\nbring me a horn of ale.\"\n\nAs soon as he had quenched his thirst in a long draught, and wiped\nhis hairy lips with much relish, the narrator went on:--\n\n\"So at night, as you may think, we kept a strict and sober guard,\nand rested in our harness. And well it was; for I had not slept an\nhour, it seemed, before the cry arose that the enemy were upon us.\nBut when they saw we were ready for them, the vermin withdrew to\nthe woods to gather more force, and it was not till day had well\nbroken that they ventured out and offered battle. Thereupon I slew\nthe hostages, set fire to the town, and fell upon them\nstraightway, and a braver fire and a brisker fight while it lasted\nI wish not to see. They were seven to one, at the least, but never\nan inch of ground did we give, and never a stroke did we spare.\nMethinks,\" he concluded with a chuckle, \"they will remember their\nwelcome.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nKING ESTEIN.\n\n\nIt was on a breezy April morning that the mountains of Sogn came\ninto view again. A strong slant of south-east wind had driven the\ntwo ships out to sea; and now, as they raced landwards before a\nfavouring breeze, they saw low down on the horizon one glittering\nhill-top after another pierce the morning mist bank. Helgi for the\ntime had charge of the tiller, while Estein leant against the\nweather bulwark, busy with his new resolves.\n\n\"A ship must cross the sea again,\" he repeated to himself. \"The\ntime for action is at hand, and we shall see what new freak\nfortune will play with me. Yet, after all,\" he reflected, \"though\nshe has pressed my head beneath the tide before, she has always\nsuffered me to rise and gasp ere she drowned me quite. It all\ncomes to this: the purposes of the gods are too deep for me to\nfathom, so I must e'en hold my peace and bide the passage of\nevents.\"\n\nHelgi had been watching him with a half-smile on his frank face,\nand at last he cried,--\n\n\"What counsel hold you with the seamews? Sometimes I see a smile,\nand sometimes I hear a sigh; and then, again, there is a look of\nthe eye as if Liot Skulison were standing before you.\"\n\n\"I was filling twenty long ships with enough stout lads to man\nthem, and sailing the western main again,\" replied Estein.\n\n\"And whither were you sailing?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"Westward first,\" said Estein.\n\n\"With perchance a point or so of south--such a direction as would\nbring us to the Hjaltland Isles, or, it may be, the Orkneys?\"\n\n\"Aided by a wayward wind,\" replied Estein with a smile.\n\n\"Where, doubtless, it would be well to slay another sea-rover,\"\nHelgi went on, \"since they cause much trouble to peaceable\nseafarers from Norway. Witches, too, and warlocks dwell in the\nisles, men say, and it were well to rid the land of such.\"\n\nAt this last speech Estein first frowned and flushed, and then\nmeeting his foster-brother's look, all outward gaiety and lurking\nmirth, he laughed defiantly, and exclaimed,--\n\n\"It may be so, Helgi. Everything I do is ordained already, and it\nmatters not whither I turn the prow of my ship or what I plan. To\nOrkney I go!\"\n\n\"Then run your thoughts still on this maiden?\"\n\n\"They have run, they are still running, and while I live I see not\nwhat is to stop their course.\"\n\n\"Remember, my brother, what stands between you,\" said Helgi, more\ngravely.\n\n\"I have not forgotten.\"\n\n\"And yet you sail to Orkney?\"\n\n\"The gods have bidden me cross the seas,\" replied Estein, \"and\nthey will steer my ship, whatever haven I choose.\"\n\n\"Go, then,\" said Helgi, \"and while that shrewd counsellor whom men\ncall Helgi Sigvaldson sails with you, at least you will not lack\nsage advice.\"\n\nEstein laughed.\n\n\"'Helgi hinn frode' [Footnote: The wise.] shall you be called\nhenceforth, and Vandrad I shall be no longer.\"\n\nThey were silent for a time, and then Estein exclaimed,--\n\n\"We are well quit of that country of Jemtland! Saw you ever so\nmany trees and so few true men before?\"\n\n\"Yet was it not quite bare of good things,\" replied his friend.\n\n\"What, mean you the woodman's wife?\"\n\n\"What else?\" said Helgi, and then he fell silent again.\n\nThey reached Hernersfiord towards nightfall, and as they crept up\nthe still, narrow waters darkness gathered fast. One by one, and\nthen in tens and hundreds and myriads, the stars came out and hung\nlike a gay awning between the pine-crowned walls. Ahead they saw\nlights and a looming bank of land, and hails passed from ship to\nshore and back again. Presently they were gently slipping by the\nstone pier, where one or two men stood awaiting them.\n\n\"What news?\" asked Helgi.\n\nThe men made no reply, but seemed to whisper among themselves, and\nHelgi repeated his question. Just then a man came hurrying to the\nend of the pier and shouted,--\n\n\"Is it then Estein returned?\"\n\n\"My father!\" exclaimed Helgi.\n\n\"What can bring the jarl here at this hour?\" said Estein,\nspringing ashore.\n\nHe met Earl Sigvald on the pier, and by the light of a lantern he\nsaw that the old man's face was grave and sad.\n\n\"Steel your heart to hear ill tidings, King Estein,\" he said.\n\nThe \"King\" smote upon Estein's ears like a knell, and he guessed\nthe earl's news before he heard it.\n\n\"King Hakon joined his fathers three days past,\" said the earl.\n\"Welcome indeed is your return, for the law says that the dead\nmust not linger in the house more than five days, and it were ill\nseeming to hold the funeral rites with his son away.\"\n\nEstein stood like a man struck dumb, and then muttering, \"I will\njoin you again,\" he started quickly up the pier, and was shortly\nlost to view in the darkness.\n\n\"Dear was Estein to his father, and dear the old king to his son.\nDeep and burning, I fear, will his sorrow be,\" said the earl.\n\n\"Fain would I comfort him,\" replied Helgi. \"But I know well\nEstein's humours, and now he is best alone for a time.\"\n\nThey walked slowly up to Hakonstad, the old earl leaning upon his\nson's arm, and as they went Helgi told him the tale of the\nJemtland journey. In his interest the earl forgot even the present\ngloom, and swore lustily or roared loudly and heartily as the\nstory went on.\n\n\"May they lie in darkness for ever as dastards and traitors!\" he\nwould cry, or \"A shrewd scheme, by the hammer of Thor! An I were\nfifty years younger I would have done the same myself, Helgi!\" and\nthen again, \"Trolls take me, if this be not enough to make a bear\nlaugh! What next, Helgi?\"\n\nWhen his son had finished his relation of the visit to the old\nseer, he seemed lost in thought.\n\n\"Atli, Atli,\" he repeated. \"Call you him Atli? I cannot remember\nthe name. A friend of Olaf Hakonson, said he? I knew of no such\nfriend. Yet it seems that he spoke indeed as one who had taken\ncounsel with the gods; and if his words acted, as you say, like\nmedicine on Estein, his name matters little. Yet it is passing\nstrange.\"\n\nWhen they reached Hakonstad, Helgi found that many chiefs had\nalready arrived to take part in the funeral rites and, more\nparticularly, in the feast with which they always ended. It was\nnot till almost all had gone to rest that Estein returned, and\nthen he went straight to his bed-chamber without exchanging more\nthan the barest greetings with those he found still talking low\nover their ale around the fires.\n\nThe next day was spent in preparations for the solemn ceremonies\nof pyre and mound, and the great feast which should mark the\nreigning of another king in Sogn. The young king himself went\nabout bravely, seeing to everything but speaking little. Helgi\nwatched him anxiously, for he feared greatly that this new sorrow\nmight cloud his mind afresh. In the evening he noticed him slip\nfrom the hall by himself, and rising at once he followed him out\nand came to his side as he paced slowly up the night-hushed\nvalley.\n\n\"Is my company unwelcome?\" he asked.\n\n\"More welcome than my thoughts,\" said Estein, taking his arm.\n\n\"Have the black thoughts returned?\"\n\n\"Do what I will, they are with me again,\" replied Estein. \"My\nfather has died with Olaf unavenged, and now it is too late to\nkeep my sacred word to him that I would ever follow up the feud.\nKing Hakon already sits in Valhalla, and knows his son for a\ndastard and a breaker of his oaths. While he lived I always told\nmyself that I would find some way even yet by which I might fulfil\nmy promise, but now it is too late. It is hard, Helgi, to lose at\nonce both a father and a father's regard.\"\n\n\"King Hakon is with Odin,\" said Helgi, \"and knows what he has\nordained. Odin has not told you to cross the seas for naught, and\ndoubtless King Hakon even now awaits the issue. Never did man do\nmuch with a downcast mind; so first dismiss your thoughts, and\nthen for the Viking path again.\"\n\n\"Helgi hinn frode,\" said Estein, pressing his arm, \"you are indeed\na good counsellor. As soon as I can gather force enough we start.\"\n\n\"And now for a horn of ale, and then to bed,\" responded Helgi,\ncheerful as ever again.\n\nEver since the first wild Northmen, pushing westwards to the sea,\nhad settled in the land of Sogn, its kings had been interred on a\ncertain barren islet hard by the mouth of Hernersfiord, and on the\nmorning of the fifth day after King Hakon's death they bore him\nout to his last resting-place by the surge of the northern ocean.\nHis body, clad in full armour and decked in robes of state, was\nlaid upon a bier on the poop of the long ship that had last\ncarried him to battle. A picked crew of chiefs and highborn\nvassals rowed him slowly down the fiord, while in their wake a\nfleet of vessels followed. Estein, arrayed in the full panoply of\nwar, as though he were sailing to meet his foes, stood out alone\nupon the poop like a graven figure, only the hand that held the\ntiller ever moving. When they reached the little holm looking out\nover the sea, they discovered the foundations of a mound already\nprepared, and great heaps of earth beside them, ready to be built\nupon the top. All the chiefs and greater men landed with a\nsufficient number of spademen to assist them with the work, while\nthe others lay off in the ships and watched in silence. First, the\nvessel in which the dead king lay was drawn up and laid upon the\nmound; each chief who had taken an oar hung his shield in turn\nupon the bulwarks; the sail, gay with coloured cloths, was\nhoisted; the king's standard raised and set in the bows; and then\nEstein lit a torch and held it to a heap of fagots underneath. As\nthe flames mounted higher and the smoke streamed out to sea the\nchiefs cast gifts aboard--rings and bracelets of gold and silver,\nsharp swords and inlaid axes--that the king in his far-off home\namong the gods of the North might think kindly of his friends on\nearth. One after another they wished his soul fair speed. Estein's\nwords were few and unsteady with emotion, and those who heard them\nwondered at their meaning.\n\n\"Fare thee well, my father! I will yet keep my promise to thee!\"\n\nLoudest of all cried Earl Sigvald,--\n\n\"May Odin be as good a friend to thee as thou hast been to me!\nKeep me a place beside thee, Hakon. All through life I have been\nat thy side, in sunshine and frost, feast and battle-storm, and\nsoon I hope to follow thee home!\"\n\nAt last the flames died down and left but the blackened remnants\nof the ship and the ashes of its royal captain. The ashes they\nreverently gathered up and placed within a copper bowl, a lid they\nmade of twelve shield bosses, the gifts were gathered and placed\nall round, and then the spademen heaped the mound above Hakon,\nKing of Sogn.\n\nWith a quicker stroke and tongues unloosed the fleet returned to\nHakonstad.\n\n\"A noble funeral, Ketill,\" said one chief to the black-bearded\nViking.\n\n\"Ay,\" replied Ketill, \"a burial worthy of King Estein, and a royal\nfeast we shall have to follow it.\"\n\n\"Men say he means to set out on a Viking foray, and that before\nmany days are past,\" said the other.\n\n\"They speak truth,\" answered Ketill. \"Many a man will he give to\nthe wolves, and eager am I to sail with him. There never was a\nbolder captain than Estein.\"\n\nFor the next two days the talk was all of the voyage to the south.\nGuests were coming in all the time for Estein's inheritance feast,\nand many of them--warriors thirsting for adventure and\nsea-roving--declared their intention of following his banner. A braver\nforce men said had never followed a king of Sogn to war. For three days\nthe feasting was to reign, and then, so soon as they were ready to\nsail, the host should take the Viking path.\n\nThe first night of the feast arrived. The hall was brightly lit\nand gaily hung with tapestries and cloths, rich and many-coloured,\nand men bravely dressed poured into their places all down the long\nrows of benches. The young king sat in his father's high seat, the\nhighest-born and most honoured guests ranged beside him, and those\nof humbler standing in the farther places. First, they drank to\nthe dead King Hakon, to his various great kinsmen in Valhalla, and\nto each of the gods in turn. Then as horns emptied faster toast\nafter toast was called across the fires, and honoured with shouts\nof \"Skoal!\" that reached far into the night outside.\n\nEstein, as was his usual custom, drank lightly, and often he would\nfind his thoughts wandering among the most incongruous\nevents--starlight nights in a far-off islet, tossings on distant\nseas, and over and over again they would stray to that glimpse of\na maiden in the Jemtland forests. Helgi, in whose blue eyes there\ndanced a light that was never kindled by water, rallied him on his\nabsence of mind.\n\n\"Drink deeper, Estein!\" he cried. \"Laugh, O king! Look, there sits\nKetill, the married man; methinks he looks thirsty. Ketill! drink\nwith me to your wife.\"\n\n\"The trolls take my wife!\" thundered Ketill, who, it may be\nremembered, had espoused a wealthy widow. \"That is only a toast\nfor single men!\"\n\nWhen the shout of laughter that greeted this speech had subsided,\nHelgi turned again to Estein, and exclaimed,--\n\n\"Then that is the toast for us, King Estein. I drink to your\nbride!\"\n\n\"Who is she, Helgi?\" cried his father jovially. \"Name her. I would\nthat I might see another king married before I die. I saw your\nmother married, Estein, and a fair maid she was. The girls must be\nless fair now, or a gallant king will not stay single long.\"\n\n\"I could name one fair maid,\" said Helgi, glancing at the king,\nbut in Estein's eye he saw a warning look.\n\n\"I have sterner things to think of, jarl,\" said Estein. \"Five days\nfrom this I hope to be upon the sea.\"\n\nAs he spoke, one of his hird-men came up to the high seat and\nstopped close beside him.\n\n\"What ho, Kari!\" cried Helgi, \"you are strangely sober.\"\n\n\"I have a message for the king,\" replied the man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE END OF THE STORY.\n\n\n\"A boon! a boon!\" exclaimed Helgi. \"Kari seeks a boon. A wife, or\na farm, or a pair of pigskin trousers; which is it, Kari? Before\nyou win it you must sing us a stave. Strike up, man!\"\n\n\"No boon I seek,\" replied Kari. \"A maiden stands without who seeks\nKing Estein, and will not come inside.\"\n\n\"Aha!\" laughed Helgi. \"Blows the wind that way?\"\n\n\"What does she want?\" asked Estein.\n\n\"I know not; she would not tell.\"\n\n\"Tell her to come in,\" said Earl Sigvald. \"Do you think it is\nfitting that the king should go out at every woman's pleasure?\"\n\n\"That is what I told her, but she said she would see the king\noutside or go away.\"\n\n\"Bid her come in or go away!\" cried the earl.\n\n\"Nay, rather ask her what her errand is about,\" said Estein.\n\n\"And tell her,\" added Helgi as the bird-man turned away, \"that\nhere sits the king's foster-brother, a most proper person at all\ntimes to hear a maiden's tale, and now most persuasively charged\nwith ale.\"\n\nThe man went down the hall again, and Earl Sigvald exclaimed\ntestily,--\n\n\"Some thrall's sweetheart doubtless, come to babble her\ncomplaints.\"\n\n\"Or perhaps the bride come to claim King Estein's hand,\" suggested\nhis son. In a minute Kari returned.\n\n\"She will not tell her business,\" he said, \"but begs earnestly to\nsee the king.\"\n\n\"Bid her begone!\" cried the earl. \"The king is feasting with his\nguests.\"\n\n\"Did not her eyes sparkle and her trouble seem to leave her when\nshe heard the king's foster-brother was here?\" asked Helgi.\n\n\"I shall press his claims myself,\" said Estein, rising from his\nseat.\n\n\"Will you see her then?\" asked the earl.\n\n\"Why not?\" replied Estein. \"Perchance she brings tidings of\nimportance.\"\n\n\"If you rise at every strange woman's bidding you will have many\nsuitors,\" said the earl.\n\n\"That is the lot of a king,\" replied Estein, with a smile.\n\nThe smile died quickly from his face as he walked down the hall,\nand men noticed that he looked grave and preoccupied again. It was\nnot that his thoughts were running on this unusual summons; as he\npassed through the dark vestibule he felt only a little curiosity,\nand at the door he paused and looked out idly enough.\n\nIt was a fine starlight night, and down below he could see the\nglimmer of the sea, and across the fiord the black outline of the\nhills, and nearer at hand he heard the sough of the night breeze\nin the pines. Close outside, the tall, hooded figure of a woman\nstood clearly outlined, while he himself was obscured in shadow.\nAt the second glance, something in the pose of his strange visitor\nstruck his memory sharply. She seemed at first afraid to speak,\nand, with rising interest, he said courteously,--\n\n\"You wish to see me?\"\n\nThe girl seemed to start a little, and then she said in a low\nvoice,--\n\n\"Are you King Estein?\"\n\nThe words were almost lost in the hood that shrouded her head.\nThey died away to a low whisper; but ere they were gone Estein had\ncaught the slight flavour of a foreign accent, and for an instant\nhe was on the Holy Isle again. With a sharp effort he controlled\nthe sudden rush of emotion they called up, and even altered his\nvoice to a low, guarded pitch as he answered,--\n\n\"I am the king.\" The girl paused for a moment as if to collect her\nthoughts, and then she said,--\n\n\"You had a brother, King Estein--Olaf Hakonson--\"\n\nShe stopped again, and seemed to look hesitatingly at him.\n\n\"What of him?\" said Estein.\n\n\"He fell, alas, long since. Forgive me for calling him to mind\nnow, but he is in my story.\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Three men were at his death,\" said the girl, gaining confidence a\nlittle. \"Thord the Tall, Snaekol Gunnarson, and Thorfin of\nSkapstead. Snaekol and Thorfin are dead long since--may God\nforgive them! but Thord the Tall lived to repent of the burning.\"\n\n\"It was an ill deed,\" said Estein.\n\n\"He was a heathen man then, King Estein--but I forget, you know\nnot of Christians.\"\n\n\"I have heard of them,\" said Estein, half to himself.\n\n\"As the years drew on he became a Christian, and followed another\nGod and another creed, and left the world and Viking forays, and\ncame to a little island of the Orkneys with me, his only child.\nFor both my brothers fell in battle, King Estein, and now there\nare none others left in the feud.\"\n\n\"How do men call you?\" said Estein, asking only that he might hear\nher name again.\n\n\"I am Osla, the daughter of Thord the Tall,\" she answered, drawing\nherself up with a touch of half defiant pride. \"He was the enemy\nof your family, but a lender-man [Footnote: Nobleman.] of high\nbirth, and a good and noble man.\"\n\n\"Ay?\"\n\n\"He lived in the island,\" she went on, \"for many years, all alone\nsave for me.\"\n\nEstein could not keep himself from asking,--\n\n\"Alone all the time?\"\n\n\"All--save once indeed, when a Viking came by chance, but he left\nshortly,\" and then she continued hastily: \"My father thought often\nof the burning. Many deeds he had done which he repented of there\nin the solitude of the Holy Isle. Yet was he not worse than\nothers, only he became a Christian, and so they seemed ill deeds\nto him.\"\n\n\"Even this burning?\" said Estein, a little dryly.\n\n\"Think not so harshly of him!\" she cried. \"He was--he was my\nfather!\"\n\n\"I ask your pardon, Mistress Osla. Go on.\"\n\n\"At length he fell sick, and in the last of the winter storms he\ndied.\"\n\nSo far Estein had been listening most curiously, wondering much\nwhat the upshot of it all would be, and keeping a severe restraint\non his tongue. But at Osla's last words he had nearly betrayed\nhimself. He was on the verge of crying out in his natural voice,\nand when he did speak, it was like a man who is choking over\nsomething.\n\n\"Then Thord the Tall is dead?\"\n\n\"He died penitent, King Estein,\" said Osla. \"And he left me a\nwriting--for he had taught me the art of reading on the island--and\nwith it much silver, or at least it seemed much to me. The\nwriting bade me seek King Hakon.\"\n\n\"Knew he not then of my father's death?\"\n\n\"He was then alive,\" she answered; \"for the writing further told\nme what I knew not before, that I had an uncle still alive, or\nrather whom my father thought was still alive, and first of all I\nhad to seek him. Else should I have come to Sogn in time to see\nKing Hakon.\"\n\n\"What is this uncle's name?\"\n\n\"He is called Atli, now,\" she replied, \"but--\"\n\n\"Atli, a brother of Thord the Tall!\"\n\n\"Know you him?\"\n\n\"I have seen him,\" he answered evasively. \"Once he came here. But\nhow did you find him? He dwells in distant parts, so men say.\"\n\n\"The writing gave me the direction of one who knew where he could\nbe found, and so I travelled to a far country--Jemtland it is,\nmany days from Sogn. Thus it was that when I came here King Hakon\nhad died.\"\n\n\"And now you seek me?\"\n\n\"You are his son, and my errand deals with you, for the feuds\nwhich were his are now yours,\" she answered.\n\nFor a moment she paused, and seemed to Estein to look doubtfully\nat him, as if half afraid to go on. Then she drew a bag from under\nher cloak, held it out to him, and said simply, but not as one who\ncraved a boon or sought a favour,--\n\n\"This silver is the price of atonement for the death of Olaf--will\nyou take it?\"\n\nHe took the bag, weighed it in his hand, and answered slowly,--\n\n\"This is a small atonement for a brother's death.\"\n\nShe gave a little start back, her pride stung to the quick, and he\nheard her breath come fast.\n\nSuddenly he dropped the bag, stepped from under the shadow of the\ndoor, and cried in his natural voice,--\n\n\"I must have you too, Osla!\"\n\nShe started this time indeed, and for an instant the shock of\nsurprise took thoughts and words away.\n\n\"Vandrad!\" she cried faintly, and then she was trembling in King\nEstein's arms.\n\n\"Nay,\" he said, \"no longer Vandrad, but rather Estein the Lucky!\nForgive me, Osla, for deceiving you before; but then, in truth,\nfate had treated me so ill that I cared not to have it known that\nI was son to the King of Sogn.\"\n\nA little later he said,--\n\n\"So the feud is at an end, and I have found a queen.\"\n\n\"A queen, Estein?\" she whispered.\n\n\"Ay, a queen, worthy of the proudest King of Sogn. And, Osla, do\nyou know I have seen you since we parted on the Holy Isle? Can you\ncall to mind a Jemtland village where you halted on your journey,\nand a man whom the villagers pursued?\"\n\n\"And that--\" she cried in astonishment.\n\n\"Was Vandrad; and Atli--\"\n\n\"Is Kolskegg, foster-father of thy brother Olaf,\" said a voice\nbehind them, and looking quickly round the lovers saw the\nvenerable form of the seer standing within five paces of them.\n\nFor a moment they were too surprised to speak, and the old man\nwent on with kindling enthusiasm,--\n\n\"Ay, Osla, I followed thee up from the ship, and awaited under the\nshadow of Hakonstad itself the issue ordained by the gods. King\nEstein, when thou wert with me I knew not who were the wizard and\nthe witch of the Orkneys. My dreams revealed them not. When Osla\ncame to me that night ye slept in the loft, I hid her coming from\nthee, for I knew the race of Yngve forget not the injuries of\ntheir kin. Nor when I knew all did I tell anything to Osla, for I\nwished the fates to bring matters to an end as they willed.\"\n\n\"But why did you tell me nothing of yourself?\" asked Estein.\n\n\"I have said the reason. Thy race have long and bitter memories,\nand I knew full well that I could not serve thee hadst thou known.\nAy, King Estein, long have I wished to come into atonement with\nthee, but my brother's rash deed--done to avenge what he thought\nmy injuries--brought the blood feud on me. I was banished for mine\nown fault, thenceforth Thord exiled me for his.\"\n\nThen raising his voice till it rang through the night, he cried,--\n\n\"But now, King Estein, the ship has crossed the seas!\"\n\nThere was a minute's silence after he had finished, and then the\nking took Osla by the hand and drew her towards the door, saying,--\n\n\"I wish them to see my queen to-night.\"\n\n\"Let me come to-morrow,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Go in, Osla,\" said her uncle, \"I bid thee,\" and so she went in\nwith Estein to the hall.\n\nAs he led her up to the high seat, dead silence fell on the\nguests, and all men gazed in growing wonder. Opposite Earl Sigvald\nhe stopped, and throwing back her hood, cried,--\n\n\"You will live to see me married yet, jarl. My southern voyage\nshall be changed into my wedding feast. Behold Osla, Queen of\nSogn!\"\n\nBefore his father had time to reply, Helgi sprang from his seat\nwith a shout, and saluting Osla on the cheek, exclaimed,--\n\n\"First of all King Estein's friends I wish you joy! Do you\nremember the sheep-skin coat? I have not forgotten the maiden.\nSkoal to Queen Osla!\"\n\nInstantly the shout was taken up till the smoky rafters rang and\nrang again; and so the feud ended, though the spell, they say, was\nnever broken.\n\nTHE END.","title":"Vandrad the Viking; Or, The Feud and the Spell","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":42546}