Vandrad the Viking Part 12

"Helgi, he had hardly begun ere I knew the end, and could name my warning voice. The tale was the burning of Laxafiord, and the voice was my brother Olaf's."

"And the hermit?"

"Is Thord the Tall, the last of the burners."

"Is! Then you slew him not?"

"My dagger was drawn, I was bending towards him, when I heard without the steps of Osla. I fled--ask me not what I thought or what I did. Thord the Tall and I both live, and I would know whether the G.o.ds would have it so. Wherefore I meet Liot this morning."

"Then you have spared Olaf's burner for the sake of the burner's daughter?"

"I had eaten his bread and shared his dwelling for six weeks, and but for that daughter I had never lived to meet him."

"He slew your brother, Estein."

"There is no need to remind me of that."

"Methinks there is; he still lives."

"And I still love his daughter."

Estein turned away as he spoke, and gazed with folded arms over the grey waters.

Helgi looked at him in silence; then he went up to his side.

"Forgive me, Estein," he said, "and let Odin judge you. I love you too well to be aught but a friend whatever you may do."

"Helgi! but for you I think I should fall upon my sword."

His friend tried to force a laugh, but it came hard.

"Nay, rather seek a sword for Liot Skulison, for I see we are nearing the holm."

"I had forgotten Liot," said Estein. "We will loose his bonds, and let him choose his weapons."

He found Liot sitting in the waist bound hand and foot. His eye was as firm as if he had been in his own hall, and he looked up indifferently as Estein approached.

"Do you remember me, Liot?" asked his captor.

"Ay, Estein. You, methinks, are one of the bairns I thought I had slain. Well was it for you that the Orkney tides run strong. But the luck has changed, I see; and you were a bold man, Estein Hakonson, to change it as you did. Why did you not burn us out?"

"Because I wanted you alone."

"Ay, torture is a pleasant game for the torturers. How do you intend that I shall die?"

"By my sword, if the G.o.ds will it. In an hour, Liot, we fight to the death. Our battle-ground is yonder holm, the weapons you may choose yourself; and meanwhile I shall loose your bonds, and if you wish to eat or drink you may."

A look of blank astonishment came over the Viking captain's face.

"This is a merry jest, Estein," he said.

"It is no jest.--Loose his bonds, men."

Liot gave a shout of joy.

"Estein," he cried, "you are a brave man, but I think you are fey."

"That will soon be seen."

The Viking's cool indifference gave place to the most exuberant excitement. Like everybody else he thought that Estein was either mad or the victim of some enchantment; but so long as he was going to strike a good blow for life, he cared not how the chance had come. He called for ale and meat, and with the eye of an old soldier carefully picked his weapons; while the men around him muttered to each other that Estein was surely fey.

All this time they had been sailing eastwards before a light breeze. The sun had long been up, but the whole sky was obscured by light clouds, and there was an early morning feel in the air.

Nearly the whole length of the wide and lonely firth that divides Orkney from the Scottish coast lay behind them, and close ahead they saw the little island that Grim had chosen for the meeting- place. When they had reached the holm they anch.o.r.ed the ship close insh.o.r.e, and two boat-loads of men were first sent to prepare the field of battle. Then when all was ready the two combatants, attended by Helgi and Ketill, were rowed ash.o.r.e.

Liot was gay and cheerful as a man going to a feast; while Estein sat silent in the stern, his thoughts busy with a landing at another island.

"You need ale, Estein," said his opponent; "a man going to fight should be gay."

"It is more fitting," replied Helgi, "for the man who comes back to be cheerful."

"Well said," said Ketill.

Liot only laughed, and springing ash.o.r.e before the boat had touched the rocks, cried,--

"I had little thought to have such a pleasant morning. We will finish what we began before, Estein."

"Ay, we will finish," said Estein.

They found a wide ring marked off with stones, and in this the two champions took their stand. Each was armed with a helmet and a coat of ring-mail, and bore in his right hand a sword, and in his left a long, heart-shaped shield. Round their waists another sword was girded, though there was likely to be little time to draw this. In height and build they were very equally matched, but men noticed that Estein moved more lightly on his feet.

In a loud voice Ketill proclaimed that whoever should withdraw outside the ring of stones should ever after bear the name of dastard.

Then all went outside the circle, and with a shout Liot sprang at his foe. Estein caught the sword on his shield, and in return delivered such a storm of blows that Liot got no chance for a blow in return. He began to give ground, Estein pressing him hotly, his blade flashing so fast that men could not follow it. It was easily seen that in quickness and dexterity with his weapon Liot was inferior to his foe; but with wary eye and cool head he kept well covered with his shield, shifting his ground all the time. Twice he was nearly driven over the line, but each time saved himself by a rapid side movement.

"I fear that Estein will tire," muttered Helgi.

"Ay; he has started too hard," replied Ketill.

It seemed as if they were right. Estein's blows became less frequent, and Liot in turn attacked hotly. He made as little impression, however, as Estein, and then by mutual consent both men stopped for a minute's breathing-s.p.a.ce.

"You seem tired, Estein," said Liot.

"Guard yourself," was the reply, and the fight began again. As before, Estein attacked hotly, Liot steadily giving ground.

"Too hard, too hard! after two sleepless nights he cannot fight long like this," exclaimed Helgi.

So thought Liot, and he bided his time with patience. He was opposed, however, by one of the best and most determined swordsmen in Norway, and Estein as well as any one knew the risk he ran. He rained in his blows like a hailstorm; but fast though they came, he was sparing his strength, and there was less vigour in his attack than there seemed. He bent all his energies on driving Liot back on the ring, shifting his ground as fast as his foe, heading off his attempts to move round, and all the while watching keenly for an opening.