Vandrad the Viking Part 7

He said these last words with a gleam in his eyes and a tightening of his lips, as if he gloated over the memory of his bygone faith.

With the same grim reminiscent pleasure, he went on: "I and two others sent the cloven arrow through the dales, and gathered armed men enough to fill three ships. Ay, the sailing of Thord the Tall, Snaekol Gunnarson, and Thorfin of Skapstead is not forgotten yet in Norway. We went to Laxafiord, for there dwelt Olaf, son of Hakon. You have heard the tale?" he cried suddenly, "you know of the burning?"

"Go on," said Estein, in a hard, dry voice; "I am listening," and all the while his right hand sought his side.

"It was a deed," said the hermit, "that made all Norway ring. We landed in the night time, and saw the lights of the hall between the pine trees. They were feasting, and they heard not our approach. We made a ring round the house and heaped f.a.ggots against the walls, and still they heard us not. It was a dark night, Vandrad, very dark, till we lit a fire that was seen by men in the outer islands. Then they heard us, they smelt the smoke, and they ran to the doors. The first man who came out I clove to the waist, for none in Norway had greater skill at arms than I.

Then we drove them in and closed the door. Sometimes at night I hear them shriek even now. There was never such a burning in Norway; we spared not one soul, not one.

"They asked us to let the women out, but we had come there to slay and not to spare. They shrieked, Vandrad; they cried till the roof fell in, and then they died. My soul is safe with G.o.d, and they are in outer darkness. There they will shriek for ever."

He paused for a moment, and then went on in the same strain of high excitement,--

"Now you know me. I am Thord the Tall, the burner of Olaf Hakonson."

"And where are Snaekol Gunnarson and Thorfin of Skapstead?" Estein spoke with difficulty, and his right hand had closed on something in his belt.

"Both are dead. They died heathens, and their souls are as hopelessly lost as the soul of Olaf Hakonson. I am the last of the burners."

The voice of Thord the Tall died away. Estein bent forward, his hand left his side, and something in it gleamed in the firelight.

Suddenly the hermit started.

"Osla! I hear Osla!" he said.

Estein thrust his dagger into its sheath, and bending in the doorway stepped out into the night. Below the cell he saw a boat leaving the land, and right before him, in the clear, cool twilight, the form of Osla.

"Have you tired of my father's company?" she asked, with a smile.

"I would be alone," he answered, and walked quickly past her.

Now he knew the twice-heard voice, and remembered the fleeting face.

"You came to warn me, Olaf, and I knew you not!" he cried. "I know you now--too late!"

He paced the turf with hurried steps. The sacred duty of revenge called him with a vehemence we cannot now realize. He had sworn to let slip no chance of taking vengeance on the burners of his brother. Often he had sought news of them, and often renewed his resolution; and now that he had found his foe, was he to idly suffer him to escape?

Yet he had been this man's guest; he had eaten of his bread, and slept in his dwelling. And his hands were tied by a stronger chain. "Osla, Osla," he cried, "for your sake I am faithless to my vows, and forgetful of my duty to my kindred!"

Then the memory of Thord the Tall, telling of the burning, rose fresh and strong, and again his hand sought his side, and his breath came fast, till the vision of Osla swept aside all other thoughts.

The time went by until the hour was hard on midnight. Gradually his mind grew more composed.

"I am in the hands of destiny," he said to himself. "Let fate do with me what it will."

All the northern sky was still red with the afterglow of sunset, creeping slowly eastwards against the dawn; land and sea lay clear and yet dim, for the light was ghostly as a phosph.o.r.escent chamber; the tide was slack, and lapped softly on the rocks; and everything in the world seemed tranquil.

"The end has come," he said.

All at once, on the sheen of the sound, he spied a curious black mark, far out and vague. Gradually it seemed to steal nearer, till Estein, looking at it keenly, forgot his thoughts in a rising curiosity. Then it took shape, and faintly across the water came the splash of oars and the voices of men. As they drew nearer, he crouched below a bank and watched their approach with growing wonder and something too of awe.

"The G.o.ds have sent for me," he thought.

They were being carried by the current towards the place where he stood, and presently they made a landing on the rocks. There followed a consultation in low tones, and then one man left the boat and came up the bank. He stood out clearly in the transparent dusk--a tall, mail-clad figure, walking with a confident carriage.

Estein waited till he was opposite him, and then sprang up, dagger in hand.

"Who art thou?" he demanded.

The man's hand went straight to his sword, but at the sound of Estein's voice it fell again.

"Estein, my foster-brother!" he cried.

"Helgi!"

Helgi opened his arms and embraced him tenderly, speaking with an emotion he made no effort to control. "Estein, my brother, I thought thou wert in truth in Valhalla. I have wept for thee, Estein; I have mourned thee as dead. Tell me that this is thy very self, and not some island ghost come to mock me."

The friendly voice and grasp, coming in this his hour of trouble, touched Estein to the heart.

"It is I, indeed, Helgi," he said; "and never have I felt more glad to see a face and clasp a hand. How came you here? I thought I had parted from my friends for ever. I have been so long alone that they had begun to seem like dream-men."

Helgi told him briefly how he had swum ash.o.r.e to another island, and there been picked up by Ketill, the black-bearded captain of one of Estein's scattered ships; how, giving up all hope, they had sailed for the south, and after meeting head winds and little luck, returned to the Orkneys, where, from a man who had been with Margad, news of the stranger on the Holy Isle had reached their ears.

"They say, Estein, that your hermit has a fair daughter. Methinks she would like to see your foster-brother; would she not?"

"Nay, Helgi, ask me no more questions, but take me quickly away. I am spell-bound here, and I dare not trust myself to stay one moment longer."

"I know these spells, Estein; they have been cast on men by other maids before now. Better take your sorceress with you. It is unlucky to break such spells so rudely."

"Laugh not, Helgi," said Estein, taking his arm and hurrying him down to the sh.o.r.e. "This spell has meant more to me than you can guess."

"By the hammer of Thor!" exclaimed Helgi, stopping suddenly, "there surely is the witch herself."

Estein looked round, and standing against the sky he saw the slender form he knew so well.

"Wait for me, Helgi," he said, "the spell is on me still," and starting away suddenly he ran up the bank again.

"Osla!" he cried, and stopped abruptly.

"What means this, Vandrad?" she asked.

Her eyes were wide open with troubled surprise, and looking into her upturned face he thought she never was so fair before.

"They have come for me, Osla, and I must go. Farewell! remember me not."

"Do you leave us in this way--without saying farewell, or telling us you were going?"

"I knew not myself when they would come. I told you I must leave you and seek the sea again. It has come true sooner than I expected."

He took her hands.