The Ward of King Canute Part 19

With the deliberate grace which characterized his every motion, the Ironside slid his sword back to its case, and they saw him take a slow step forward and slowly extend his hand. Then they saw Canute spring to meet him, and their palms touch in a long grasp.

From the English sh.o.r.e there went up a joyful shout of "Peace!" And a deafening clamor rose in answer from the Danish bank. But what sentiment predominated in that, it would be difficult to say. Blended with rejoicing over their King's safety, were cries of bitter disappointment, the cries of thirsty men who have seen wine dashed from their lips.

In their retreat, the two Northern jarls and the young monarch's foster-father faced each other uncertainly. "Here is mystery!" Eric of Norway said at last. "I should be thankful if you would tell me whether he thought it unwise to kill the Englishman before the face of his army; or whether he is in truth struck with love toward him, as the fools seem to believe?"

"Or whether he had reached the exact limit of his strength so that he was obliged to save himself by some trick of words?" Ulf Jarl suggested.

The Tall One shook his head slowly. "Now, as always, it is he alone who can altogether explain his actions. It might easily be that in his mad impatience he overvalued his strength, so that he was obliged to stop short to keep within bounds. But I think you will find that there is still some trick which is not open to our sight. His man-wit is deepening very fast; I will not be so bold as to say that I can always fathom it."

"Perhaps he thinks a short peace would be useful to the host," the Norwegian said, and laughed. "Such a truce is as comfortable as a cloak when the weather is stark, and as easy to get rid of when the sun comes out."

By their faces, the others appeared to agree with him; but before they could express themselves, a swimmer rose like a dripping seal out of the water at their feet.

"Peace and division again!" he cried breathlessly. "And it is the King's will that you get into a boat and come to him at once."

The rush of the crowd to the water-side to question the messenger gave Randalin her chance for freedom; and she was not slow in taking it. A moment more, and she was in the very top of the willow-tree, clasping her hands and wringing them in alternate thanksgiving and terror.

"Whatever it bring upon me, I will get back to my woman's clothes," she vowed to herself over and over. "Though it become a hindrance to me, though it be the cause of my death, I will be a woman always. Odin forgive me that I thought I had courage enough to be a man!"

Chapter XVIII. What The Red Cloak Hid

At eve, the day is to be praised; A woman, after she is dead.

Ha'vama'l.

In the vault overhead blue had deepened into purple, and all the silver star-lamps been hung out, their flames trembling unceasingly in the playing winds. By the soft light, the Jotun, who was striding across the camp, saw a graceful boyish form leave the circle around the King's fire and join a group of mounted men waiting on the river bank, some fifty yards away.

"Ho there, Fridtjof!" he roared wrathfully.

The figure turned, and he had a fleeting glimpse of a hand waved in mocking farewell. Then the boy sprang into the saddle of a horse that one of the warriors was holding, and the whole band moved forward at a swinging pace.

"If you had waited a little, you would be less light on your feet,"

the Jotun growled as he strode on, striking his heels savagely upon the frosty ground.

"Where is the King?" he demanded, as soon as he had reached the ring of n.o.bles sipping mead around the royal fire. Between swallows, they were carrying on a heated discussion of the day's events; but Eric of Norway stopped long enough to nod toward the wattled hut beneath the silken banner.

"In there; and I will give you this chain off my neck if you can guess what he is doing."

"It is likely that he is busy with messengers," Rothgar said with an accent of vexation. "I had hoped to reach him before he finished drinking, but there was a brawl among my men which--"

"He is playing chess," Eric said dryly.

"Chess!"

The Norwegian nodded as he swallowed. "Heard you ever anything to equal that? He has the appearance of a boy who has been released from a lesson. I wish that you had been here to see him at meal-time. So full of jests and banter was he that I could scarcely eat for laughing. Yet when I took courage from his good-nature to ask him concerning his plans for the future, he pretended that he did not hear me, and put an end to questioning by bidding Ulf come and play chess with him in the hut.

Whether he is mad, or bewitched, or feigning like Amleth, it is not easy to tell."

"I do not think it is any of these," Rothgar said slowly. "I think it is because he likes it so well that he has got peace in which to amuse himself. Sooner would he hunt than fight, any day; and I have often seen him express pleasure in this manner. I remember how his wife Elfgiva once said of him that it was well his crown was no more than a ring of gold, for then, when his mood changed, he could use it for such a gold hoop as kings' children are wont to play with."

"Said Elfgiva of Northampton that?" Eric asked in surprise. "Never would I have believed her so wise in words. That she is the most beautiful of women, all the world knows; but I have always supposed that her wit stopped with her temper, which is suspected to be shorter than her hair."

Rothgar grunted scornfully. "It is easy for a fool to speak some wisdom if she keeps her tongue moving all the time."

Laughing, the Norwegian plunged again into the general discussion; and the son of Lodbrok stood listening discontentedly, while he kept a sharp watch of the low-browed entrance.

Presently his patience was rewarded. Within the hut there arose all at once a duet of voices, half angrily accusing, half laughingly protesting. Then the chess-board came flying through the doorway, followed by a handful of chessmen and the person of the big good-natured Jarl, still uttering his laughing protests. And finally Canute himself stood under the lintel, storming through his laughter.

"Blockhead, that you cannot keep your thoughts on what you are doing!

One might expect as good a game from the tumbler's dog. Is it the drink that you have got into your head, or the war matters that you cannot get out? You deserve--"

"To lose the honor of playing with the King," the Jotun broke in, making a long step forward. "Be so good as to allow me to take his place, lord.

I have some words for your ear which are worth a hearing."

"Rothgar!" the King exclaimed with great cordiality, and stepped from the doorway to meet him. "Willingly do I make the change, for I have been wishing to speak with you this last hour. I have thought of a fine plan for to-morrow's sport." Laying his arm boy-fashion across his foster-brother's shoulders, he swung him around toward the river. "But we will not go in there to do our talking. We will walk along the sh.o.r.e.

To-night I feel as though I could walk to the rainbow-bridge." He shook back his headful of long hair and drew a deep breath, like a man from whom a burden has been lifted.

As they strolled beside the moonlit water, the son of Lodbrok listened in secret amazement to the string of plans that unfolded itself,--hunts and horse-races, swimming matches and fishing trips.

"But where will you get the fishing tackle, lord? And the hawks and the hounds for all this?" he ventured presently. They were some little distance up the bank now, where trees screened them from the camp-fires.

Suddenly the young King made a leaping grab at a bough overhead and hung by it, looking down at his companion with the face of a mischievous boy.

"How joyfully you will take my answer! I have sent to Northampton for them. And I have bidden Elfgiva accompany them, with all her following of maids and lap-dogs and beardless boys. Before the end of the week, I expect that the Abbey guest-house will have the appearance of a woman's bower; and the monks will have taken to the woods."

As his foster-brother stood gazing at him in speechless dismay, he laughed maliciously. "Where are your manners, partner, that you do not praise my foresight? Here am I eager to go to her to celebrate my victory; and yet because I think it unadvisable for me to leave the camp, I remain like a rock at my post. Where is your praise?"

"King," Rothgar said gravely, "is the truce going to last long enough to make it worth while to fetch those trinkets here?"

His laughter vanishing, the King came to earth in both senses of the phrase. "Now I do not know what you mean by that," he said. "You were with me on the island. You heard what was said. You heard that we made peace together to last the whole of our lives, in truth, longer; since he who outlives is to inherit peacefully after him who dies. Did you not hear that?"

Rothgar kicked a stone out of his way with impatient emphasis. "Oh, yes, I heard it. I heard also how you said that you would rather have the Englishman's friendship than his kingdom."

The eyebrows Canute had drawn down into a frown rose ironically. "There is room in your breast for more sense, Rothgar, my brother, if you think, because I am forced into one lie, that I never speak the truth,"

he said. "We will not talk of it further. I should like to remain good-humored to-night, if it were possible. What are the words you have waiting for my ears?"

The Jotun's sudden frown quite eclipsed his eyes. "It is not likely that I shall remain good-humored if I put my tongue to them. Oh! Now it becomes clear in my mind what you have sent your black-haired falcon down the wind after,--to carry your order to Northampton?" "Certainly it is," Canute a.s.sented. "When the boy found that I had need of a messenger, he begged it of me as a boon that he might be the one to carry the good news to my lady. I thought it a well-mannered way to show his thankfulness. But why is your voice so bitter when you speak of him?"

"Because I have just found out that he is a fox," Rothgar bellowed.

"Because it has been borne in upon me that he has played me a foul trick, by which I lost property that was already under my hands; lost it forever, Troll take him! if it be really true that we are to make no more warfare upon the lands south of the Watling Street."

"It is not possible!" Canute e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "He looks to be as truthful as Balder."

Rothgar uttered his favorite grunt. "Never did I hear that Loke had crooked eyes or a tusk, and black hair grows on both of them. I tell you, I know it for certain. I have just been to find the English serf who became my man after Brentford; and he has told me what he says he tried to tell the night before we left Ivarsdale, but no one would listen to him without pounding him,--that the servant-maid, who informed him concerning the provision house, spoke also of a Danish page her lord had, whom he treated with such great love that it was commonly said he was bewitched. And before that, when the brat was telling you how the Englishman had saved him from Norman's sword, it occurred to me that he talked more as a woman talks of her lover than as a man speaks of his foe. I had my mouth open to tax him with it, when you threw this duel at me like a rock and knocked everything else out of my head."

"May the gallows take my body!" the King breathed. And he sat down upon a gra.s.sy hummock as suddenly as though a rock had been thrown at him that knocked the legs from under him. Nor did he get up immediately, but remained gazing at the string of bright beads which English camp-fires made along the opposite bluff, his face intent with pondering.