At least enough blood was left to crimson Alwin's cheeks at this reminder. Those had been his very words, stung by Rolf's taunt.

The smouldering doubt he had felt burst into flame and burned through every fibre. What if it were all a trap, a plot?—if Rolf had brought him there on purpose to fight, the horses being only a pretext? Thorgrim's wink, his allusion to Alwin's swordsmanship, it had all been arranged between them; the velvet cloak was the clew! Rolf had wished to possess it. He had persuaded Thorgrim to stake it on his thrall's skill,—then he had brought Alwin to win the wager for him. Brought him, like a trained stallion or a trick dog!

He turned to fling the deceit in the Wrestler's teeth. Rolf's fair face was as innocent as those of the pictured saints in the Saxon book. Alwin wavered. After all, what proof had he?

Jeering whispers and half-suppressed laughter became audible around him. The group believed that his hesitation arose from timidity. Ignoring the smart of yesterday's wound, he snatched the sword Rolf held out to him, and started forward.

His foot struck against the Saxon book which he had let fall. As he picked it up and laid it reverently aside, it suggested something to him.

"Thorgrim Svensson," he said, pausing, "because I will not have it said that I am afraid to look a sword in the face, I will fight your serf,—on one condition: that this book, which can be of no use to you, you will give me if I get the better of him."

The freckled face puckered itself into a shrewd squint. "And if you fail?"

"If I fail," Alwin returned promptly, "Rolf Erlingsson will pay for me. He has told me that while he is free and I am bound, he is answerable for what I do."

At this there was some laughter—when it was seen that the Wrestler was not offended. "A quick wit answered that, Alwin of England," Rolf said with a smile. "I will pay willingly, if you do not save us both, as I expect."

Anxious to be done with it, Alwin fell upon the thrall with a fierceness that terrified the fellow. His blade played about him like lightning; one could scarce follow its motions. A flesh-wound in the hip; and the poor churl, who had little real skill and less natural spirit, began to blunder. A thrust in the arm that would have only redoubled Alwin's zeal, finished him completely. With a roar of pain, he threw his weapon from him, broke through the circle of angry men, and fled, cowering, among the booths.

There were few words spoken as the cloak and the book were handed over. The set of Thorgrim's mouth suggested that if he said anything, it would be something which he realized might be better left unsaid. His men were like hounds in leash. Rolf spoke a few smooth phrases, and hurried his companion away.

The sense that he had been tricked to the level of a performing bear came upon Alwin afresh. When they stood once more in the road, he looked at the Wrestler accusingly and searchingly.

Rolf began to talk of the book. "Nothing have I seen which I think so fine. I must admit that you men of England are more skilful than we of the North in such matters. It is all well enough to scratch pictures on a rock or carve them on a door; but what will you do when you wish to move? Either you must leave them behind, or get a yoke of oxen. To have them painted on kid-skin, I like much better. You are in great luck to come into possession of such property."

Alwin forgot his resentful suspicions in his pleasure. "Let us sit down somewhere and examine it," said he. "Yonder, where those trees stretch over the fence and make the grass shady,—that will be a good place."

"Have it your own way," Rolf assented. To the shady spot they proceeded accordingly.

Rolf stretched himself comfortably in the long grass and made a pillow of his arms. Alwin squatted down, his back planted against the fence, the book open on his knees.

The reading-matter was attractive enough, with its glittering characters and rose-tinted pages, and every initial letter inches high and shrined in azure-blue traceries. But the splendor of the pictures!—no barbaric heart could resist them. What if the straight lines were crooked,—if the draperies were wooden,—the hands and the feet ungainly? They had been drawn with sparkles of gold and gleams of silver, in blue and scarlet and violet, until nothing less than a stained-glass window glowing in the sun could even suggest their radiance. Rolf warmed into unusual heartiness.

"By the hilt of my sword, he was an accomplished man who was able to make such pictures! Look at that horse,—it does not keep you guessing a moment to tell what it is. And yonder man with the red flames leaping about him,—I wish I knew why he was bound to that post!"

Alwin also was bitten with curiosity. "I tell you what I will do," he offered. "You must not suppose that reading is as easy as swimming, or handling a sword. My father did not have the accomplishment, and his hair was gray. Neither would my mother have learned it, had it not been that Alfred was her kinsman and she was proud of his scholarship. Nor should I have known how, if she had not taught me. And I have forgotten much. But this I will offer you: I will read the Saxon words to myself, and then tell you in the Northern tongue what they mean."

He spread the book open on a spot of clean turf, stretched himself on his stomach, gripped one leg around the other, planted his chin on his clenched fists, and began.

It was slow work. He had forgotten a good deal; and every other word was linked with distracting memories: his mother leaning from her embroidery frame to follow the line with her bodkin; his mother, erect and stern, bidding Brother Ambrose bear him away and flog him for his idleness; his mother hearing his lesson with one arm around him and the other hand holding the sweetmeat she would give him if he succeeded. He did not notice that Rolf's eyes were gradually closing, and his bated breath lengthening into long even sighs. He plodded on and on.

All at once a thunder of approaching hoof-beats reached him from up the road. Nearer and nearer they came; and around the curve swept a party of the King's guardsmen,—yellow hair and scarlet cloaks flying in the wind, spurs jingling, weapons clattering, armor clashing. Alwin glanced up and saw their leader,—and his interest in pale pictured saints dropped dead.

"It must be King Olaf himself!" he murmured, staring.

A head taller than the other tall men, with shoulders a palm's-width broader, the leader sat on his mighty black horse like a second Thor. Light flashed from his steel tunic and gilded helmet. His bronzed face had an eagle's beak for a nose, and eyes of the blue of ice or steel, piercing as a two-edged sword. A white cross was painted on his shield of gold.

As he swept past, he glanced toward the pair by the fence. Catching sight of the sleeping Rolf, he checked his horse sharply, made a motion bidding the others go on without him, and, wheeling, rode back, followed only by a mounted thrall who was evidently his personal attendant. Alwin leaped up and attempted to arouse his companion, but the guardsman saved him the trouble. Leaning out of his saddle, he struck the Wrestler a smart blow with the flat of his sword.

"What now, Rolf Erlingsson!" he demanded, in tones of thunder. "Because I go on a five days' journey, must it happen that my men lie like drunken swine along the roadside? For this you shall feel—"

Before his eyes were fairly open, Rolf was on his feet, tugging at his sword. Luckily, before he thrust, he got a glimpse of his assailant.

"Leif, the son of Eric!" he cried, dropping his weapon. "Welcome! Hail to you!"

The warrior's frown relaxed into a grim smile, as he yielded his hand to his young follower's hearty grip.

"Is it possible that you are sober after all? What in the Fiend's name do you here, asleep by the road in company with a thrall and a purple cloak?"

Rolf relaxed into his customary drawl. "That is unjustly spoken, chief. I have not been asleep. I have found a new and worthy enjoyment. I have been listening while this Englishman read aloud from a Saxon book of saints."

"A Saxon book of saints!" exclaimed the guardsman. "I would see it."

When its owner had handed it up, he looked it through hastily, yet turning the leaves with reverence, and crossing himself whenever he encountered a pictured cross. As he handed it back, he turned his eyes on Alwin, blue and piercing as steel.

"It is likely that you are a high-born captive. That you can read is an unusual accomplishment. It is not impossible that you might be useful to me. Who is your master? Is it of any use to try to buy you from him?"

Rolf laughed. "Certainly you are well named 'the Lucky,' since you only wish for what is already yours. This is the cook-boy whom Tyrker bought to fill the place of Hord."

"So?" said Leif, in unconscious imitation of his old German foster-father. He sat staring down thoughtfully at the boy,—until his attendant took jealous alarm, and put his horse through a manoeuvre to arouse him.

The guardsman came to himself with a start and a hasty gathering up of his rein. "That is a good thing. We will speak further of it. Now, Olaf Trygvasson is awaiting my report. Tell them I will be in camp to-morrow. If I find drunken heads or dulled weapons—!" He looked his threat.

"I will heed your orders in this as in everything," Rolf answered, in the courtier-phrase of the day. His chief gave him a short nod, struck spurs to his horse, and galloped after his comrades.



CHAPTER VIII

LEIF THE CROSS-BEARER

Inquire and impart Should every man of sense, Who will be accounted sage. Let one only know,— A second may not; If three, all the world knows. Ha'vama'l

It was early the next morning, so early that the world was only here and there awake. The town was silent; the fields were empty; the woods around the camp slept in darkness and silence. Only the little valley lay fresh and smiling in the new light, winking back at the sun from a million dewy eyes.

Under the trees the long white-scoured tables stood ready with bowl and trencher, and Alwin carried food to and fro with leisurely steps. From Helga's booth her voice arose in a weird battle-chant; while from the river bank came the voices and laughter and loud splashing of many bathers.

Gradually the shouts merged into a persistent roar. The roar swelled into a thunder of excitement. Alwin paused, in the act of ladling curds into the line of wooden bowls, and listened smiling.

"Now they are swimming a race back to the bank. I wonder whom they will drive out of the water today." For that was the established penalty for being last in the race.

The thunder of cheering reached its height; then suddenly it split into scattered jeers and hootings. There was a crackling of dead leaves, a rustling of bushes, and Sigurd appeared, dripping and breathless. Panting and spent, he threw himself on the ground, his shining white body making a cameo against the mossy green.

"You! You beaten!" Alwin cried in surprise.

Sigurd gave a breathless laugh. "Even I myself. Certainly it is a time of wonders!" He looked eagerly at the spread table, and held up his hand. "And I am starving besides! Toss me something, I beg of you." When Alwin had thrown him a chunk of crusty bread, he consented to go on and explain his defeat between mouthfuls. "It was because my shoulder is still heavy in its movements. I broke it wrestling last winter. I forgot about it when I entered the race."

"That is a pity," said Alwin. But he spoke absently, for he was thinking that here might be an opening for something he wished to say. He filled several bowls in silence, Sigurd watching over his bread with twinkling eyes. After a while Alwin went on cautiously: "This mishap is a light one, however. I hope it is not likely that you will have to endure a heavier disappointment when Leif arrives today."

Back went Sigurd's yellow head in a peal of laughter. "I would have wagered it!" he shouted. "I would have wagered my horse that you were aiming at that! So every speech ends, no matter where it begins. I talk with Helga of what we did as children and she answers: 'You remember much, foster-brother; do not forget the sternness of Leif's temper.' I enter into conversation with Rolf, and he returns, 'Yes, it is likely that Leif has got greater favor than ever with King Olaf. I cannot be altogether certain that he will shelter one who has broken Olaf's laws.' Tyrker advises me,—by Saint Michael, you are all as wise as Mimir!" He flung the crust from him with a gesture of good-humored impatience. "Do you all think I am a fool, that I do not know what I am doing? It appears that you forget that Leif Ericsson is my foster-father."

Alwin deposited the last curd in the last bowl, and stood licking the horn-spoon, and looking doubtfully at the other. "Do you mean by that that you have a right to give him orders? I have heard that in the North a foster-son does not treat his foster-father as his superior, but as his servant. Yet Leif did not look to be—"

Sigurd shouted with laughter. "He did not! I will wager my head he did not! Certainly the foster-son who would show disrespect to Leif the Lucky would be putting his life in a bear's paw. It makes no difference that it is customary for many silly old men of lower birth to allow themselves to be trampled upon by fiery young men of higher rank, like old wolves nipped by young ones. King Olaf's heir dare not do so to Leif Ericsson. No; what I would have you understand is that I know what I am doing because I know Leif's temper as you know your English runes. From the time I was five winters old to the time I was fifteen, I lived under his roof in Greenland, and he was as my father to me. I know his sternness, but I know also his justice and what he will dare for a friend, though Olaf and all his host oppose him."

He let fly a Norman oath as, splod! a handful of wet clay struck between his bare shoulders. Turning, he saw among the bushes a mischievous hand raised for a second throw, and scrambled laughing to his feet.

"The trolls! First to drive me from my bath and then to throw mud on me! Poison his bowl, if you love me, Alwin. Ah, what a throw! It is not likely that you could hit a door. What bondmaids' aiming! Shame!" Mocking, and dodging this way and that, he gained the welcome shelter of the sleeping-house.

A rush of big white bodies, a gleam of dampened yellow hair, an outburst of boisterous merriment, and the camp was swarming with hungry uproarious giants, who threw shoes at each other and shoved and quarrelled around the polished shield, before which they parted their yellow locks, stamping, singing and whistling as they pulled on their tunics and buckled their belts.

"Leif is coming!—the Lucky, the Loved One!" Helga sang from her booth; and the din was redoubled with cheering.

"By Thor, it seems to me that he is coming now!" said Valbrand, suddenly. He had finished his toilet, and sat at the table, facing the thicket. Every one turned to look, and beheld Leif's thrall-attendant gallop out of the shadows toward them. No one followed, however, and a murmur of disappointment went round.

"It is nobody but Kark!"

Kark rose in his stirrups and waved his hand. He was of the commonest type of colorless blond, and coarse and ignorant of face; but his manners had the assurance of a privileged character.

"It is more than Kark," he shouted. "It is news that is worth a hearing. Ho, for Greenland! Greenland in three days!"

"Greenland?" echoed the chorus.

"Greenland?" cried Helga, appearing in her doorway, with blanching cheeks.

They rushed upon the messenger, and hauled him from his horse and surged about him. And what had seemed Babel before was but gentle murmuring compared with what now followed.

"Greenland! What for?"—"You are jesting." "That pagan hole!"—"In three days? It is impossible!"—"Is the chief witch-ridden?"—"Has word come that Eric is dead?"—"Has Leif quarrelled with King Olaf, that the King has banished him?"—"Greenland, grave-mound for living men!"—"What for?"—"In the Troll's name, why?"—"You are lying; it is certain that you are."—"Speak, you raven!"

"In a moment, in a moment,—give me breath and room, my masters," the thrall answered boldly. "It is the truth; I myself heard the talk. But first,—I have ridden far and fast, and my throat is parched with—"

A dozen milk-bowls were snatched from the table and passed to him. He emptied two with cool deliberation, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"I give you thanks. I shall not keep you waiting. It happened last night when Leif came in to make his report to the King. Olaf was seated on the throne in his hall, feasting. Many famous chiefs sat along the walls. You should have heard the cheer they gave when it was known that Leif had the victory!"

Here Kark's roving eyes discovered Alwin among the listeners; he paused, and treated him to a long insolent stare. Then he went on:

"I was saying that they cheered. It is likely that the warriors up in Valhalla heard, and thought it a battle-cry. Olaf raised his drinking-horn and said, 'Hail to you, Leif Ericsson! Health and greeting! Victory always follows your sword.' Then he drank to him across the floor, and bade him come and sit beside him, that he might have serious speech with him."

A second cheer, loud as a battle-cry, went up to Valhalla. But mingling with its echo there arose a chorus of resentment.

"Yet after such honors why does he banish him?"—"Did they quarrel?"—"Is it possible that there is treachery?"—"Tell us why he is banished!"—"Yes, why?"—"Answer that!"

The messenger laughed loudly. "Who said that he was banished? Rein in your tongues. As much honor as is possible is intended him. It happened after the feast—"

"Then pass over the feast; come to your story!" was shouted so impatiently that even Kark saw the wisdom of complying.

"It shall be as you like. I shall begin with the time when every warrior had gone to bed, except those lying drunk upon the benches. I sat on Leif's foot-stool, with his horn. It is likely that I also had been asleep, for what I first remember was that Leif and the King had ceased speaking together, and sat leaning back staring at the torches, which were burning low. It was so still that you could hear the men snore and the branches scraping on the roof. Then the King said, while he still looked at the torch, 'Do you purpose sailing to Greenland in the summer?' It is likely that Leif felt some surprise, for he did not answer straightway; but he is wont to have fine words ready in his throat, and at last he said, 'I should wish to do so, if it is your will.' Then the King said nothing for a long time, and they both sat looking at the pine torch that was burning low, until it went out. Then Olaf turned and looked into Leif's eyes and said, 'I think it may well be so. You shall go my errand, and preach Christianity in Greenland.'"

From Kark's audience burst another volley of exclamations.

"It is because he is always lucky!"—"It cannot be done. Remember Eric!"—"The Red One will slay him!"—"You forget Thorhild his mother!" "Hail to the King!"—"It is a great honor!"

"Silence!" Valbrand commanded. Kark went on: "Leif said that he was willing to do whatever the King wished; yet it would not be easy. He spoke the name of Eric, and after that they lowered their voices so that I could not hear. Then at last Olaf leaned back in his high-seat and Leif stood up to go. Olaf stretched forth his hand and said, 'I know no man fitter for the work than you. You shall carry good luck with you.' Leif answered: 'That can only be if I carry yours with me.' Then he grasped the King's hand and they drank to each other, looking deep into each other's eyes."

There was a pause, to make sure the messenger had finished. Then there broke out cheers and acclamations and exulting.

"Hail to Leif! Hail to the Lucky One!"—"Leif and the Cross!"—"Down with the hammer sign!"—"Down with Thor!"—"Victory for Leif, Leif and the Cross!"

Shields clashed and swords were waved. Kark was thrown bodily into the air and tossed from hand to hand. A wave of mad enthusiasm swept over the group. Only Helga stood like one stunned, her hands wound in her long tresses, her face set and despairing.

The Black One was the first to notice her amid the confusion. He dropped the cloak he was waving and stared at her wonderingly for a moment; then he burst into a boisterous laugh.

"Look at the shield-maiden, comrades,—look at the shield-maiden! It has come into her mind that she is going back to Thorhild!"

For a moment Alwin wondered who Thorhild might be. Then vaguely he remembered hearing that it was to escape a strong-minded matron of that name that Helga had fled from Greenland. That now she must go back to be civilized, and made like other maidens, struck him also as an excellent joke; and he joined in the laugh. One after another caught it up with jests and mocking.

"Back to Thorhild the Iron-Handed!"—"No more short kirtles!"—"She has speared her last boar!"—"After this she will embroider boar-hunts on tapestry!"—"Embroider? Is it likely that she knows which end of the needle to put the thread through?"—"It will be like yoking a wild steer!"—"Taming a shield-maiden!"—"There will be dagger-holes in Thorhild's back!"—They crowded around her, bandying the jest back and forth, and roaring with laughter.

Always before, Helga had taken their chaff in good part; always before, she had joined them in making merry at her expense. But now she did not laugh. She rose slowly and stood looking at them, her breast heaving, her eyes like glowing coals.

At last she said shrilly, "Oh, laugh! If you see a jest in it—laugh! Because I am going to lose my freedom—my rides over the green country,—never to stand in the bow and feel the deck bounding under me,—is it such sport to you, you stupid clods? Would you think it a jest if the Franks should carry me off, and shut me up in one of their towers, and load me with fetters, and force me to toil day and night for them? You would take that ill enough. How much better is it that I am to be shut in a smothering women's-house and wound around with cloth till I trip when I walk, and made to waste the daylight, baking to fill your swinish stomachs, and sewing tapestries that your dull eyes may have something to look at while you swallow your ale? Clods! I had rather the Franks took me. At least they would not call themselves my friends while they ill-used me. Heavy-witted churls, laugh if you want to! Laugh till you burst!"

She whirled away from them into her booth, and the door-curtain fell behind her.

All day long she sat there, neither eating nor speaking, Editha crouching in a corner, afraid to approach her.



CHAPTER IX

BEFORE THE CHIEFTAIN

At home let a man be cheerful, And toward a guest liberal; Of wise conduct he should be, Of good memory and ready speech. Ha'vama'l

In the river, on the city-side, the "Sea-Deer" lay at anchor, stripped to her hulk, as the custom was. Her oars and her rowing-benches, her scarlet-and-white sail, her gilded vanes and carven dragon-head, were all carefully stored in the booths at the camp. With the eagerness of lovers, her crew rushed down to summon her from her loneliness and once more hang her finery about her. All day long their brushes lapped her sides caressingly, and their hammers rang upon her decking. All day long the ship's boat plied to and fro, bringing her equipments across the river. All day long Alwin was hurried back and forth with messages, and tools, and coils of rope.

The last trip he made, Sigurd Haraldsson walked with him across the bridge and along the city-bank of the river. The young Viking had spent the day riding around the country with Tyrker, getting prices on a ship-load of corn. Corn, it seemed, was worth its weight in gold in Greenland.

"Leif shows a keen wit in taking Eric a present of corn," Sigurd explained, as they dodged the loaded thralls running up and down the gangways. "He will like it better than greater valuables. His pleasure will come near to converting him."

Alwin shook his head doubtfully,—not at this last observation, but at the prospect in general. "The more I think of going to Greenland," he said, "the more excellent a place I find Norway."

He looked appreciatively at the river beside them, and ahead at the great shining fiord. Scattered over its sunlit waters trim clipper-built craft rode at anchor; between them, long-oared skiffs darted back and forth like long-legged water-bugs. Along the shore a chain of ships stretched as far as eye could reach,—graceful war cruisers, heavily-laden provision ships, substantial trading vessels. On the flat beach and along the wooded banks rose great storehouses and lines of fine new ship-sheds. Rich merchandise was piled before them; rows of covered carts stood in waiting. Everywhere were busy throngs of traders and seamen and slaves. His eye kindled as it passed from point to point.

"It seems that Northmen are something more than pirates," he said, thoughtfully.

"It seems that your speech is something more than free," said Sigurd, in displeasure.

Alwin realized that it had been, and explained: "I but spoke of you as southerners do who have not seen your country. I tell you truly that, after England, I believe Norway to be the finest country in the world."

Sigurd swung along with recovered good-humor. "I will not quarrel with you over that exception. And yonder is Valbrand just come ashore,—at the fore-gangway. Go and do your errand with him, and then we will walk over to that pier and see what it is that the crowd is gathered about, to make them shout so."

The attraction proved to be a chattering brown ape that some sailor had brought home from the East. Part of the spectators regarded it as a strange pagan god; part believed it to be an unfortunate being deformed by witchcraft; and the rest took it for a devil in his own proper person,—so there was great shrieking and scattering, whichever way it turned its ugly face. It happened that Sigurd was better informed, having seen a similar specimen kept as a pet at the court of the Norman Duke; so the terror of the others amused him and his companion mightily. They stayed until the creature put an end to the show by breaking away from its captor and taking refuge in the rigging.

It was a fascinating place altogether,—that beach,—and difficult to get away from. Almost every ship brought back from its voyage some beast or bird or fish so outlandish that it was impossible to pass it by. Twilight had fallen before the pair turned in among the hills.

Between the trees shone the red glow of the camp-fires. Through the dusk came the pleasant odors of frying fish and roasting pork, with now and then a whiff of savory garlic. Alwin turned on his companion in sudden excitement.

"It is likely that Leif is already here!"

Sigurd laughed. "Do you think it advisable for me to climb a tree?"

They stepped out of the shadow into the light of the leaping flames. On the farther side of the long fire, men were busy with dripping bear-steaks and half-plucked fowls; while others bent over the steaming caldron or stirred the big mead-vat. On the near side, ringed around by stalwart forms, showing black against the fire-glow, the chief sat at his ease. The flickering light revealed his bronzed eagle face and the richness of his gold-embroidered cloak. At his elbow Helga the Fair waited with his drinking-horn. Tyrker hovered behind him, touching now his hair and now his broad shoulders with an old man's tremulous fondness. All were listening reverently to his quick, curt narrative.

Sigurd's laughing carelessness fell from him. He walked forward with the gallant air that sat so well upon his handsome figure. "Health and greeting, foster-father!" he said in his clear voice. "I have come back to you, an outlaw seeking shelter."

Helga spilled the ale in her consternation. The old German began a nervous plucking at his beard. The heads that had swung around toward Sigurd, turned back expectantly.

More than one heart sank when it was seen that the chief neither held out his hand nor moved from his seat. Silver-Tongued and sunny-hearted, the Jarl's son was well-beloved. There was a long pause, in which there was no sound but the crackling of flames and the loud sputtering of fat.

At last Leif said sternly, "You are my foster-son, and I love your father more than anyone else, kinsman or not; yet I cannot offer you hand or welcome until I know wherein you have broken the law."

Through the breathless hush, Sigurd answered with perfect composure: "That was to be expected of Leif Ericsson. I would not have it otherwise. All shall be without deceit on my side."

He folded his arms across his breast, and, standing easily before his judge, told his story. "In the games last fall it happened that I shot against Hjalmar Oddsson until he was obliged to acknowledge himself beaten; and for that he wished me ill luck. When the Assembly was held in my district this spring, he came there and three times tried to make me angry, so that I should forget that the Assembly Plain is sacred ground. The first time, he spoke lightly of my skill; but I thought that a jest, since it had proved too much for him. The second time, he spoke slightingly of my courage, saying that the reason I did not go in my father's Viking ship this spring was because I was wont to be afraid in battle. Now it had been seen by everybody that I wished to go. I had spent the winter in Normandy, yet I returned by the first ship, that I might make one of my father's crew. It was not my doing that my ship got lost in the fog and did not fetch me here until after the Jarl had sailed. It angered me that such slander should be spoken of me. Yet, remembering that men are peace-holy on the Assembly Plain, I did manage to turn it aside. A third time he threw himself in my way, and began speaking evil of a friend of mine, a man with whom I have sworn blood-brotherhood. I forgot where we stood, and what was the law, and I drew my sword and leaped upon him; and it is likely the daylight would have shone through him, but that he had friends hidden who ran out and seized me and dragged me before the law-man. Seeing me with drawn sword, he knew without question that I had broken the law; so, without caring what I urged, he passed sentence upon me, banishing me from my district for three seasons. My father and my kinsmen are away on Viking voyages; I cannot take service with King Olaf, and I will not serve under a lesser man. It was not easy to know where to go, until I thought of you, Leif Ericsson. It was you who taught me that 'He who is cold in defence of a friend, will be cold so long as Hel rules.' There is no fear in my mind that you will send me away."

He finished as composedly as he had begun, and stood waiting. But not for long. Leif rose from his seat, sweeping the circle with a keen glance. "It is likely," he said grimly, "that someone has told you that an unfavorable answer might be expected, because I feared to lose King Olaf's favor. You have done well to trust my friendship, foster-son." He stretched out his hand, a rare gleam of pleasure lighting his deep-set eyes. "You have behaved well to your friend, Sigurd Haraldsson; there is the greatest excuse for you in this affair. I bid you welcome, and I offer you a share in everything I own. If it is your choice, you shall go back to Brattahlid with me; and my home shall be your home for whatever time you wish."

Sigurd thanked him with warmth and dignity. Then a twinkle of mischief shone at the comers of his handsome mouth; after the fashion of the French court, he bent over the brawny outstretched hand and kissed it.

A murmur of mingled amazement and amusement went up from the group. Leif himself gave a short laugh as he jerked his hand away.

"This is the first time that ever my fist was mistaken for a maiden's lips. It is to be hoped that this is not the most useful accomplishment you have brought from France. Now go and try your fine manners on Helga,—if you do not fear for your ears. I wish to speak with this thrall."

But Helga had not now spirit enough to avenge the salute. She drooped over the fire, staring absently into the embers; the heat toasting her delicate face rose-red, the light touching her hair into a wonderful golden web. She looked up at Sigurd with a faint frown; then dropped her chin back into her hands and forgot him.

Alwin came and placed himself before the chief's seat, where the young Viking had stood. He was not so picturesque a figure, with his shorn head and his white slaves'-dress; but he stood straight and supple in his young strength, his head haughtily erect, his eyes bright and fearless as a young falcon's.

Leif put his questions. "What are you called?"

"I am called Alwin, Edmund Jarl's son."

"Jarl-born? Then it is likely that you can handle a sword?"

"Not a few of your own men can bear witness to that."

Rolf spoke up with his quiet smile. "The boy speaks the truth. One would think that he had drunk nothing but dragon's blood since his birth."

"So?" said Leif dryly. "It may be that I should be thankful my men are not torn to pieces. But these accomplishments count for naught; none here but have them. You must accomplish something that I think of more importance, or I shall sell you and buy a man-thrall who has been trained to work. It seems that you can read runes: can you also write them?"

In a flash of memory, Alwin saw again Brother Ambrose's cell, and his rebellious self toiling at the desk; and he marvelled that in this far-off place and time that toil was to be of use to him.

"To some small degree I can," he answered. "I learned in my boyhood; but last summer, on the dairy farm of Gilli of Trondhjem, I practised on sheep-skins—"

"Gilli of Trondhjem?" Leif repeated. He sat suddenly erect, and shot a glance at the unconscious Helga; and the old German, peering from the shadows behind him, did the same.

Alwin regarded them wonderingly. "Yes, Gilli the trader, whom men call the Wealthy. It was he who first had me in my captivity."

For a long time the chief sat tugging thoughtfully at his yellow mustache. Tyrker bent over and whispered in his ear; and he nodded slowly, with another glance at Helga.

"But for this I should never have thought of him,—yet, it is certainly one way out of the matter."

Suddenly he made a motion with his hand, so that the circle fell back out of hearing. He turned and fixed his piercing eyes on the thrall as though he would probe his brain.

"I ask you to tell me what manner of man this Gilli is?"

It happened that Alwin asked nothing better than a chance to free his mind. He answered instantly: "Gilli of Trondhjem is a low-minded man who has gained great wealth, and is so greedy for property that he would give the nails off his hands and the tongue out of his head to get it. He is an overbearing churl."

Leif's eyes challenged him, but he did not recant.

"So!" said the chief abruptly; then he added: "I am told for certain that his wife is a well-disposed woman."

"I say nothing against that," Alwin assented. "She is from England, where women are taught to bear themselves gently."

His eulogy was cut short by an exclamation from the old German. "Donnerwetter! That is true! An English captive she was. Perhaps she their runes also understands?"

Finding this a question addressed to him, Alwin answered that he knew her to understand them, having heard her read from a book of Saxon prayers.

Tyrker rolled up his eyes devoutly. "Heaven itself it is that so has ordered it for the shield-maiden! You see, my son? This youth here can make runes,-she can read them; so can you speak with her without that the father shall know."

"Bring torches into the sleeping-house," Leif called, rising hastily. "Valbrand, take your horse and lay saddle on it. You of England, get bark and an arrow-point, or whatever will serve for rune writing, and follow me."

What took place behind the log walls, no one knew. When it was over, and Valbrand had ridden away in the darkness, Rolf sought out the scribe and gently gave him to understand that he was curious in the matter. But Alwin only cast a doubtful glance across the fire at Helga, and begged him to talk of something else.

Late the next afternoon, Valbrand returned, his horse muddy and spent, and was closeted for a long time with Leif and the old German. But none heard what passed between them.



CHAPTER X

THE ROYAL BLOOD OF ALFRED

Brand burns from brand, Until it is burnt out; Fire is from fire quickened. Man to man Becomes known by speech, But a fool by his bashful silence. Ha'vama'l

Brave with fluttering pennant and embroidered linen and sparkling gilding, amid cheers and prayers and shouts of farewell, on the third day the "Sea-Deer" set sail for Greenland.

Newly clad from head to foot in a scarlet suit of King Olaf's giving, Leif stood aft by the great steering oar. The wind blew out his long hair in a golden banner. The sun splintered its lances upon his gilded helm. Upon his breast shone the silver crucifix that had been Olaf's parting gift. His hand was still warm from the clasp of his King's; no chill at his heart warned him that those hands had met for the last time, no thought was in him that he had looked his last upon the noble face he loved. Gazing out over the tumbling blue waves, he thought exultantly of the time when he should come sailing back, with task fulfilled, to receive the thanks of his King.

Bravely and merrily the little ship parted from the land and set forth upon her journey. Every man sat in his place upon the rowing-benches; every back bent stoutly to the oar. Dripping crystals and flashing in the sun, the polished blades rose and fell, as the "Sea-Deer" bounded forward. To those upon her decks, the mass of scarlet cloaks upon the pier merged into a patch of flame, and then became a fiery dot. The sunny plain of the city and the green slope of the camp dwindled and faded; towering cliffs closed about and hid them from the rowers' view.

Leaving the broad elbow of the fiord, they soon entered the narrow arm that ran in from the sea, like a silver lane between giant walls. Passing out with the tide, they reached the ocean. The salt wind smote their faces; the snowy sail drew in a long glad breath and swelled out with a throb of exultation, and the world of waters closed around their little craft.

It was a beautiful world, full of the shifting charms of color and of motion, of the joy of sun and wind; but Alwin found it a wearily busy world for him. Since he was not needed at the oars, they gave him the odds and ends of drudgery about the ship. He cleared the decks, and plied the bailing-scoop, and stood long tedious watches. He helped to tent over the vessel's decks at night, and to stow away the huge canvas in the morning. He ground grain for the hungry crew, and kept the great mead-vat filled that stood before the mast for the shipmates to drink from. He prepared the food and carried it around and cleared the remnants away again. He was at the beck and call of forty rough voices; he was the one shuttlecock among eighty brawny battledores.

It was a peaceful world, stirred by no greater excitement than a glimpse of a distant sail or the mystery of a half-seen shore; yet things could happen in it, Alwin found. The second day out, the earl-born captive for the first time came in direct contact with the thrall-born Kark.

Kark was not deferential, even toward his superiors; there was barely enough discretion in his roughness to save him from offending. Among those of his own station, he dispensed even with discretion. And he had looked upon Alwin with unfriendly eyes ever since Leif's first manifestation of interest in his English property.

It often happens that the whole of earth's dry land proves too small to hold two uncongenial spirits peaceably. One can imagine, then, how it fared when two such opposites were limited to some hundred-odd feet of timber in mid-ocean.

"Ho there, you cook-boy!" Kark's rough voice came down to the foreroom where Alwin was working. "Get you quickly forward and wipe up the beer Valbrand has spilled over his bench."

For a moment, Alwin's eyes opened wide in amazement; then they drew together into two menacing slits, and his very clothing bristled with haughtiness. He deigned no answer whatsoever.

A pause, and Kark followed his voice. "What now, you cub of a lazy mastiff! I told you, quickly; the beer will get on his clothes."

With immovable calmness, Alwin went on with his grinding. Only after the fourth round he said coldly: "It would save time if you would do your work yourself."

Kark gasped with amazement. This to him, the slave-born son of Eric's free steward, who held the whip-hand over all the thralls at Brattahlid! His china-blue eyes snapped spitefully.

"It does not become the bowerman of Leif Ericsson to do the dirty work of a foreign whelp. If you have the ambition to be more than—"

He was interrupted by the sound of approaching thunder. Valbrand descended upon them, his new tunic drenched, the scars on his battered old face showing livid red.

"Is it likely that I will wait all day while two thralls quarrel over precedence?" he roared. "The Troll take me if I do not throw one of you to Ran before the journey is over! Go instantly—"

"I am sharpening Leif's blade," Kark struck in; he had indeed drawn a knife and sharpening-stone from his girdle. "It is not becoming for me to leave the chief's work for another task."

The argument was unassailable. To the unlucky man-of-all-work the steersman's anger naturally reverted.

"Then you, idle dog that you are! What is it that keeps you? Would you have him attend on Leif and do your work as well? You may choose one of two conditions: go instantly or have your back cut into ribbons."

If he had not added that, it is possible that Alwin would have obeyed; but to yield in the face of a threat, that was too low for his stiff-necked pride to stoop. The earl-born answered haughtily, "Have your will,—and I will have mine."

If he had had any idea that they would not go so far, it was quickly dashed out of him. One moment of struggle and confusion, and he found himself stripped to the waist, his hands bound to the mast, a man standing over him with a knotted thong of walrus hide. All Sigurd's furious eloquence could not restrain the storm of sickening blows.

On the other hand, if they had had the notion that their victim's obstinacy would run from him with his blood, they also were mistaken. The red drops came, but no sign of weakening. At last, with the subsiding of his anger, Valbrand ordered him to be set free.

"The same shall overtake you if you are disobedient to me again," was all he said.

Stripped and bloody, dizzy with pain and blind with rage, Alwin staggered forward, caught at Sigurd to save himself from falling, and looked unsteadily about him. When he found what he sought, his wits were cleared as a foggy night by lightning. With a hoarse cry, he caught up a fragment of broken oar and struck Kark over the head so that he fell stunned upon the deck, blood reddening his colorless face.

"In the Troll's name!" Valbrand swore, after a moment of utter stupefaction.

Alwin laughed between his teeth at Sigurd's despairing glance, and waited to feel the steersman's knife between his ribs. Instead, he was dragged aft to where the chief sat on the deck beside the steering-oar.

Leif was deep in consultation with his shrewd old foster-father. Without pausing in his argument, he sent an impatient glance over his shoulder; when it fell upon the gory young madman, he turned sharply and faced the group.

Alwin was in the mood to suffer torture with a smile. The more outrageous Valbrand depicted him, the better he was pleased. Leif made no comment whatever, but sat pulling at his long mustaches and eying them from under his bushy brows.

When the steersman had finished, he asked, "Is Kark slain?"

Glancing back, Valbrand saw the bowerman sitting up and feeling of his wounds. "Except a lump on his head, I do not think he is worse than before," he answered.

"So," said Leif with an accent of relief. "Then it is not worth while to say much. If he had been killed, his father would have taken it ill; and that would have displeased Eric and hurt my mission. It would have become necessary for me to slay this boy to satisfy them. Now it is of little importance."

He straightened abruptly and waved them away.

"What more is there to do about it?" he added. "This fellow has been punished, and Kark has got one of the many knocks his insolence deserves. Let us end this talk,—only see to it that they do not kill each other. I do not wish to lose any more property." He motioned them off, and turned back to Tyrker.

But there was more to it. Something,—Leif's curtness, or the touch of Valbrand's hand upon his naked shoulder,—roused Alwin's madness afresh. Shaking off the hand, fighting it off, he bearded the chief himself.

"I will kill him if ever he utters his cur's yelp at me again. You are blind and simple to think to keep an earl-born man under the feet of a churl. You are a fool to keep an accomplished man at work that any simpleton might do. I will not bear with your folly. I will slay the hound the first chance I get." He ended breathless and trembling with passion.

Valbrand stood aghast. Leif's brows drew down so low that nothing but two fiery sparks showed of his eyes. Through Alwin went the same thrill he had felt when the trader's sword-point pricked his breast.

Yet the lightning did not strike. Alwin glanced up, amazed. While he stared, a subtle change crept over the chief. Slowly he ceased to be the grim curt Viking: slowly he became the nobleman whose stateliness minstrels celebrated in their songs, and the King spoke of with praise. A stillness seemed to gather round them. Alwin felt his anger cooling and sinking within him.

After a time, Leif said with the calmness of perfect superiority: "It may be that I have not treated you as honorably as you deserve. Yet what am I to think of these words of yours? Is it after such fashion that a jarl-born man with accomplishments addresses his lord in your country?"

To the blunt old steersman, to the ox-like Olver, to the half-dozen others who heard it, the change was incomprehensible. They stared at their master, then at each other, and finally gave it up as a whim past their understanding. It may be that Leif was curious to see whether it would be incomprehensible to Alwin as well. He sat watching him intently.

Alwin's eyes fell before his master's. The stately quietness, the noble forbearance, were like voices out of his past. They called up memories of his princess-mother, of her training, of the dignity that had always surrounded her. Suddenly he saw, as for the first time, the roughness and coarseness of the life about him, and realized how it had roughened and coarsened him. A dull red mounted to his face. Slowly, like one groping for a half forgotten habit, he bent his knee before the offended chief. Unconsciously, for the first time in his thraldom, he gave to a Northman the title a Saxon uses to his superior.

"Lord, you are right to think me unmannerly. I was mad with anger so that I did not weigh my words. I will say nothing against it if you treat me like a churl."

To the others, this also was inexplicable. They scratched their heads, and rubbed their ears, and gaped at one another. Leif smiled grimly as he caught their looks. Picking a silver ring from his pouch, he tossed it to Valbrand.

"Take this to Kark to pay him for his broken head, and advise him to make less noise with his mouth in the future." When they were gone he turned to Alwin and signed him to rise. "You understand a language that churls do not understand. I will try you further. Go dress yourself, then bring hither the runes you were reading to Rolf Erlingsson."

Alwin obeyed in silence, a tumult of long-quiet emotions whirling through his brain,—relief and shame and gratification, and, underneath it all, a new-born loyalty.

All the rest of the day, until the sun dropped like a red ball behind the waves, he sat at the chief's feet and read to him from the Saxon book. He read stumblingly, haltingly; but he was not blamed for his blunders. His listener caught at the meanings hungrily, and pieced out their deficiencies with his keen wit and dressed their nakedness in his vivid imagination. Now his great chest heaved with passion, and his strong hand gripped his sword-hilt; now he crossed himself and sighed, and again his eyes flashed like smitten steel. When at last the failing light compelled Alwin to lay down the book, the chief sat for a long time staring at him with keen but absent eyes.

After a while he said, half as though he was speaking to himself: "It is my belief that Heaven itself has sent you to me, that I may be strengthened and inspired in my work." His face kindled with devout rapture. "It must have been by the guidance of Heaven that you were trained in so unusual an accomplishment. It was the hand of God that led you hither, to be an instrument in a great work."

Awe fell upon Alwin, and a shiver of superstition that was almost terror. He bowed his head and crossed himself.

But when he looked up, the thread had snapped; Leif was himself again. He was eying the boy critically, though with a new touch of something like respect.

He said abruptly: "It is not altogether befitting that one who has the accomplishments of a holy priest should go garbed like a base-bred thrall. What is the color of the clothes that priests wear in England?"

Alwin answered, wondering: "They wear black habits, lord. It is for that reason that they are called Black Monks."

Rising, Leif beckoned to Valbrand. When the steersman stood before him, he said: "Take this boy down to my chests and clothe him from head to foot in black garments of good quality. And hereafter let it be understood that he is my honorable bowerman, and a person of breeding and accomplishments."

The old henchman looked at the new favorite as dispassionately as he would have looked at a weapon or a dog that had taken his master's fancy. "I would not oppose your will in this, any more than in other things; yet I take it upon me to remind you of Kark. If you make this cook-boy your bowerman, to keep the scales balancing you must make him who was your bowerman into a cook-boy. It is in my mind that Kark's father will take that as ill as—"

A sweep of Leif's arm swept Kark out of the path of his will. "Who is it that is to command me how I shall choose my servants? The Fates made Kark a cook-boy when he was born; let him go back where he belongs. I have endured his boorishness long enough. Am I to despise a tool that Heaven has sent me because a clod at my feet is jealous? What kind of luck could that bring?"

Convinced or not, Valbrand was silenced. "It shall be as you wish," he muttered.

Alwin fell on his knee, and, not daring to kiss the chief's hand, raised the hem of the scarlet cloak to his lips.

"Lord," he said earnestly; then stopped because he could not find words in which to speak his gratitude. "Lord—" he began again, and again he was at a loss. At last he finished bluntly, "Lord, I will serve you as only a man can serve whose whole heart is in his work."



CHAPTER XI

THE PASSING OF THE SCAR

A ship is made for sailing, A shield for sheltering, A sword for striking, A maiden for kisses. Ha'vama'l

"When the sun rises tomorrow it is likely that we shall see Greenland ahead of us," growled Egil.

With Sigurd and the Wrestler, he was lounging against the side, watching the witch-fires run along the waves through the darkness. The new bower-man stood next to Sigurd, but Egil could not properly be said to be with him, for the two only spoke under the direst necessity. Around them, under the awnings, in the light of flaring pine torches, the crew were sprawled over the rowing-benches killing time with drinking and riddles.

"It seems to me that it will gladden my heart to see it," Sigurd responded. "As I think of the matter, I recall great fun in Greenland. There were excellent wrestling matches between the men of the East and the West settlements. And do you remember the fine feasts Eric was wont to make?"

Rolf gently smacked his lips and laid his hands upon his stomach. "By all means. And remember also the seal hunting and the deer-shooting!"

Sigurd's eyes glistened. "Many good things may be told of Greenland. There is no place in the world so fine to run over on skees. By Saint Michael, I shall be glad to get there!" He struck Egil a rousing blow upon the sullen hump of his shoulders.

Unmoved, the Black One continued to stare out into the darkness, his chin upon his fists.

"Ugh! Yes. Very likely," he grunted. "Very likely it will be clear sailing for you, but it is my belief that some of us will run into a squall when we have left Leif and gone to our own homes, and it becomes known to our kinsmen that we are no longer Odin-men. It is probable that my father will stick his knife into me."

There was a pause while they digested the truth of this; until Rolf relieved the tension by saying quietly: "Speak for yourself, companion. My kinsman is no such fool. He has been on too many trading voyages among the Christians. Already he is baptized in both faiths; so that when Thor does not help him, he is wont to pray to the god of the Christians. Thus is he safe either way; and not a few Greenland chiefs are of his opinion."

Sigurd's merry laugh rang out. "Now that is having a cloak to wear on both sides, according to the weather! If only Eric were so minded—"

"Is Eric the ruler in Greenland?" Alwin interrupted. All this while he had been looking from one to the other, listening attentively.

The two sons of Greenland chiefs answered "No!" in one breath. Sigurd raised quizzical eyebrows.

"I admit that he is not the ruler in name, Greenland being a republic, but in fact—?"

They let him go on without contradiction.

"Thus it stands, Alwin. Eric the Red was the first to settle in Greenland, therefore he owns the most land. Besides Brattahlid, he owns many fishing stations; and he also has stations on several islands where men gather eggs for him and get what drift-wood there is. And not only is he the richest man, but he is also the highest-born, for his father's father was a jarl of Jaederan; and so—"

It is to be feared that Alwin lost some of this. He broke in suddenly: "Now I know where it is that I have heard the name of Eric the Red! It has haunted me for days. In the trader's booth in Norway a minstrel sang a ballad of 'Eric the Red and his Dwarf-Cursed Sword.' Know you of it?"

He was answered by the involuntary glances that the others cast toward the chief.

Rolf said with a shrug: "It is bondmaids' gabble. There is little need to say that a dwarf cursed Eric's sword, to explain how it comes that he has been three times exiled for manslaughter, and driven from Norway to Iceland and from Iceland to Greenland. He quarrelled and slew wherever he settled, because he has a temper like that of the dragon Fafnir."

A faint red tinged Egil's dark cheeks. "Nevertheless, Skroppa's prophecy has come true," he muttered, "that after the blade was once sheathed in the new soil of Greenland, it would bring no more ill-luck."

"Skroppa!" cried Alwin. But he got no further, for Sigurd's hand was clapped over his mouth.

"Lower your voice when you speak that name, comrade," the Silver-Tongued warned him.

"Do not speak it at all," Egil interrupted brusquely. "The English girl is coming aft. It is likely she brings some message from Helga."

They faced about eagerly. Editha's smooth brown head was indeed to be seen threading its way between the noisy groups. They agreed that it was time they heard from the shield-maiden. For her to take advantage of her womanhood, and turn the forecastle into a woman's-house, and forbid their approach, was something unheard-of and outrageous.

"It would be treating her as she deserves if we should refuse to go now when she sends for us," Egil growled, though without any apparent intention of carrying out the threat.

To the extreme amusement of his fellows, Sigurd began to settle his ornaments and rearrange his long locks.

"It may be that she accepts my invitation to play chess. Leif spoke with her for a long time this afternoon; it is likely that he roused her from her black mood."

"It is likely that he roused her," Alwin said slowly.

There was something so peculiar in his voice that they all turned and looked at him. He had suddenly grown very red and uncomfortable.

"It seems that anyone can be foreknowing at certain times," he said, trying to smile. "Now my mind tells me that the summons will be for me."

"For you!" Egil's brows became two black thunder-clouds from under which his eyes flashed lightnings at the thrall.

Alwin yielded to helpless laughter. "There is little need for you to get angry. Rather would I be drowned than go."

It was Sigurd's turn to be offended. "I had thought better of you, Alwin of England, than to suppose that you would cherish hatred against a woman who has offered to be your friend."

"Hatred?" For a moment Alwin did not understand him; then he added: "By Saint George, that is so! I had altogether forgotten that it was my intention to hate her! I swear to you, Sigurd, I have not thought of the matter these two weeks."

"Which causes me to suspect that you have been thinking very hard of something else," Rolf suggested.

But Alwin closed his lips and kept his eyes on Editha's approaching figure.

The little bondmaid came up to them, dropped as graceful a curtsey as she could manage with the pitching of the vessel, and said timidly: "If it please you, my lord Alwin, my mistress desires to speak with you at once."

"Hail to the prophet!" laughed Sigurd, pretending to rumple the locks that he had so carefully smoothed.

"Now Heaven grant that I am a false prophet in the rest of my foretelling," Alwin murmured to himself, as he followed the girl forward. "If I am forced to tell her the truth, I think it likely she will scratch my eyes out."

She did not look dangerous when he came up to her. She was sitting on a little stool, with her hands folded quietly in her lap, and on her beautiful face the dazed look of one who has heard startling news. But her first question was straight to the mark.

"Leif has told me that Gilli and Bertha of Trondhjem are my father and mother. He says that you have seen them and know them. Tell me what they are like."

It was an instant plunge into very deep water. Alwin gasped. "Lady, there are many things to be said on the subject. It may be that I am not a good judge."

He was glad to stop and accept the stool Editha offered, and spend a little time settling himself upon it; but that could not last long.

"Bertha of Trondhjem is a very beautiful woman," he began. "It is easy to believe that she is your mother. Also she is gentle and kind-hearted—"

Helga's shoulders moved disdainfully. "She must be a coward. To get rid of her child because a man ordered it! Have you heard that? Because when I was born some lying hag pretended to read in the stars that I would one day become a misfortune to my father, he ordered me to be thrown out—for wolves to eat or beggars to take. And my mother had me carried to Eric, who is Gilli's kinsman, and bound him to keep it a secret. She is a coward."

"It must be remembered that she had been a captive of Gilli," Alwin reminded the shield-maiden. "Even Norse wives are sometimes—"

"She is a coward. Tell me of Gilli. At least he is not witless. What is he like?"

Again the deep water. Alwin stirred in his seat and fingered at the silver lace on his cap. He was dressed splendidly now. Left's wardrobe had contained nothing black that was also plain, so the bowerman's long hose were of silk, his tunic was seamed with silver, his belt studded with steel bosses, his cloak lined with fine gray fur.

"Lady," he stammered, "as I have said, it may be that I am not a fair judge. Gilli did not behave well to me. Yet I have heard that he is very kind to his wife. It is likely that he would give you costly things—"

Helga's foot stamped upon the deck. "What do I care for that?"

He knew how little she cared. He gave up any further attempts at diplomacy.

But her next words granted him a respite. "What was the message that you wrote to my mother for Leif?"

"I think I can remember the exact words," he answered readily, "it gave me so much trouble to spell them. It read this way, after the greeting: 'Do you remember the child you sent to Eric? She is here in Norway with me. She is well grown and handsome. I go back the second day after this. It will be a great grief to her if she is obliged to go also. If her father could see her, it is likely he would be willing to give her a home in Norway. It would even be worth while coming all the way to Greenland after her. It is certain that Gilli would think so, if you could manage that he should see her.' I think that was all, lady."

"If Gilli is what I suspect him to be, that is more than enough," Helga said slowly. She raised her head and looked straight into his eyes. "Answer me this,—you know and must tell,—is he a high-minded warrior like Leif, or is he a money-loving trader?"

"Lady," said Alwin desperately, "if you will have the truth, he is a mean-spirited churl who thinks that the only thing in the world is to have property."

Helga drew a long breath, and her slender hands clenched in her lap. "Now I have found what I have suspected. Answer this truthfully also: If I go back to him, is it not likely that he will marry me to the first creature who offers to make a good bargain with him?"

"Yes," said Alwin.

For days he had been watching her with uneasy pity, whenever in his mind's eye he saw her in the power of the unscrupulous trader, It had made him uncomfortable to feel that he was the tool that had brought it about, even though he knew he was as innocent as the bark on which he had written.

Drop by drop the blood sank out of Helga's face. Spark by spark, the light died out of her eyes. Like some poor trapped animal, she sat staring dully ahead of her.

It was more than Alwin could bear in silence. He leaned forward and shook her arm. "Lady, do anything rather than despair. Get into a rage with me,—though Heaven knows I never intended your misfortune! Yet it is natural you should feel hard toward me. I—"

She stared at him dully. "Why should I be angry with you? You could not help what you did; and Leif thought I would wish rather to go to my own mother than to Thorhild."

It had never occurred to Alwin that she would be reasonable. His remorse became the more eager. He bethought himself of some slight comfort. "At least it cannot happen for a year, lady. And in—"

She raised her head quickly. "Why can it not happen for a year?"

"Because Gilli is away on a trading voyage, and will not be back until fall, when it will be too late to start for Greenland. Nor will he come early in spring and so lose the best of his trading season. It is sure to be more than a year."

Youth can construct a lifeboat out of a straw. Hope crept back to Helga's eyes.

"A year is a long time. Many things can happen in a year. Gilli may be slain,—for every man a mistletoe-shaft grows somewhere. Or I may marry someone in Greenland. Already two chiefs have asked my hand of Leif, so it is not likely that I shall lack chances."

"That is true; and it may also happen that the Lady Bertha will never get my runes. She was absent on a visit when Valbrand left them at her farm. Or even if she gets them, she may lack courage to tell the news to Gilli. Or he may dislike the expense of a daughter. Surely, where there are so many holes, there are many good chances that the danger will fall through one of them."

Helga flung up her head with a gallant air. "I will heed your advice in this matter. I will not trouble myself another moment; and I will love Brattahlid as a bird loves the cliff that hides it! And Thorhild? What if her nature is such that she is cross? She is no coward. She would defend those she loved, though she died for it. I should like to see Eric bid her to abandon a child. There would not be a red hair left in his beard. Better is it to be brave and true than to be gentle like your Lady Bertha. Is it because she is my mother that you give that title to me also?"

Alwin hesitated and reddened. "Yes. And because I like to remember that there is English blood in you."

Helga paused in the midst of her excitement, and her face softened. She looked at him, and her starry eyes were full of frank good-will.

She said slowly, "Since there is English blood in me, it may be that you will some time ask for the friendship I have offered you."

At that moment, it seemed to Alwin that such simplicity and frankness were worth more than all the gentle graces of his country-women. He put out his hand.

"You need not wait long for me to ask that," he said. "I would have asked it a week ago, but I could not think it honorable to call myself your friend when I had injured you so."

Helga's slim fingers gave his a firm clasp, but she laughed merrily.

"That is where you are mistaken. If you had not injured me, you would never have forgotten that I had injured you. Now we are even, and we start afresh. That is a good thing."



CHAPTER XII

THROUGH BARS OF ICE

A day should be praised at night; A sword when it is tried; Ice when it is crossed. Ha'vama'l

A dim line of snowy islands, so far apart that it was hard to believe they were only the ice-tipped summits of Greenland's towering coast, stretched across the horizon. Standing at Helga's side in the bow, Alwin gazed at them earnestly.

"To think," he marvelled, "that we have come to the very last land on this side of the world! Suppose we were to sail still further west? What is it likely that we would come to? Does the ocean end in a wall of ice, or would we fall off the earth and go tumbling heels over head through the darkness—? By St. George, it makes one dizzy!"

Helga's ideas were not much clearer. It was nearly five hundred years before the time of Columbus. But she knew one thing that Alwin did not know.

"Greenland is not the most western land," she corrected. "There is another still further west, though no one knows how big it is or who lives in it."

She turned, laughing, to where young Haraldsson sat counting the wealth of his pouch and calculating how valuable could be the presents he could afford to bestow on his arrival.

"Sigurd, do you remember that western land Biorn Herjulfsson saw? and how we were wont to plan to run away to it, when I grew tired of embroidering and Leif kept you overlong at your exercises?"

"I have not thought of it since those days," laughed Sigurd. He swept the mass of gold and silver trinkets back into the velvet pouch at his belt, and came over and joined them. "What fine times we had planning those trips, over the fire in the evenings! By Saint Michael, I think we actually started once; have you forgotten?—in the long-boat off Thorwald's whaling vessel! And you wore a suit of my clothes, and fought me because I said anyone could tell that you were a girl."

Helga's laughter rang out like a chime of bells. "Oh, Sigurd I had forgotten it! And we had nothing with us to eat but two cheeses! And Valbrand had to launch a boat and come after us!"

They abandoned themselves to their mirth, and Alwin laughed with them; but his curiosity had been aroused on another subject.

"I wish you would tell me something concerning this farther land," he said, as soon as he could get them to listen. "Does it in truth exist, or is it a tale to amuse children with?"

They both assured him that it was quite true.

"I myself have talked with one of the sailors who saw it," Sigurd explained. "He was Biorn's steersman. He saw it distinctly. He said that it looked like a fine country, with many trees."

"If it was a real country and no witchcraft, it is strange that he contented himself with looking at it. Why did he not land and explore?"

"Biorn Herjulfsson is a coward," Helga said contemptuously. "Every man who can move his tongue says so."

Sigurd frowned at her. "You give judgment too glibly. I have heard many say that he is a brave man. But he was not out on an exploring voyage; he was sailing from Iceland to Greenland, to visit his father, and lost his way. And he is a man not apt to be eager in new enterprises. Besides, it may be that he thought the land was inhabited by dwarfs."

"There, you have admitted that I am right!" Helga cried triumphantly. "He was afraid of the dwarfs; and a man who is afraid of anything is a coward."

But Sigurd could fence with his tongue as well as with his sword. "What then is a shield-maiden who is afraid of her kinswoman?" he parried. And they fell to wrangling laughingly between themselves.

Unheeding them, Alwin gazed away at the mysterious blue west. His eyes were big with great thoughts. If he had a ship and a crew,—if he could sail away exploring! Suppose kingdoms could be founded there! Suppose—his imaginings became as lofty as the drifting clouds, and as vague; so vague that he finally lost interest in them, and turned his attention to the approaching shore. They had come near enough now to see that the scattered islands had connected themselves into a peaked coast, a broken line of dazzling whiteness, except where dark chasms made blots upon its sides.

But sighting Greenland and landing upon it were two very different matters, he found. A little further, and they encountered the border of drift-ice that, travelling down from the northeast in company with numerous icebergs, closes the fiord-mouths in summer like a magic bar.

"I shall think it great luck if this breaks up so that we can get through it in a month," Valbrand observed phlegmatically.

"A month?" Alwin gasped, overhearing him.

The old sailor looked at him in contempt. "Does a month seem long to you? When Eric came here from Iceland, he was obliged to lie four months in the ice."

Four months on shipboard, with nothing more cheerful to look at than barren cliffs and a gray sea paved with grinding ice-cakes! The consternation of Alwin's face was so great that Sigurd took pity on him even while he laughed.

"It will not be so bad as that. And we will steer to a point north of the fiord and lie there in the shelter of an island."

"Shelter!" muttered the English youth. "Twelve eiderdown beds would be insufficient to shelter one from this wind."

Nor was the island of any more inviting appearance when finally they reached it. What of it was not barren boulders was covered with black lichens, the only hint of green being an occasional patch of moss nestling in some rocky fissure. To heighten the effect, icy gales blew continually, accompanied by heavy mists and chilling fogs.

Amid these inhospitable surroundings they were penned for two weeks,—Norse weeks of but five days each, but seemingly endless to the captives from the south. Editha retired permanently into the big bear-skin sleeping-bag that enveloped the whole of her little person and was the only cure for the chattering of her teeth. Alwin wrapped himself in every garment he owned and as many of Sigurd's as could be spared, and strove to endure the situation with the stoicism of his companions; but now and then his disgust got the better of his philosophy.

"How intelligent beings can find it in their hearts to return to this country after the good God has once allowed them to leave it, passes my understanding!" he stormed, on the tenth day of this sorry picnicking. "At first it was in my mind to fear lest such a small ship should sink in such a great sea; now I only dread that it will not, and that we will be brought alive to land and forced to live there."

Rolf regarded him with his amiable smile. "If your eyes were as blue as your lips, and your cheeks were as red as your nose, you would be considered a handsome man," he said encouragingly.

And again it was Sigurd who took pity on Alwin. "Bear it well; it will not last much longer," he said. "Already a passage is opening. And inside the fiord, much is different from what is expected."

Alwin smiled with polite incredulity.

The next day's sun showed a dark channel open to them, so that before noon they had entered upon the broad water-lane known as Eric's Fiord. The silence between the towering walls was so absolute, so death-like, as to be almost uncanny. Mile after mile they sailed, between bleak cliffs ice-crowned and garbed in black lichens; mile after mile further yet, without passing anything more cheerful than a cluster of rocky islands or a slope covered with brownish moss. The most luxuriant of the islands boasted only a patch of crowberry bushes or a few creeping junipers too much abashed to lift their heads a finger's length above the earth.

Alwin looked about him with a sigh, and then at Sigurd with a grimace. "Do you still say that this is pleasanter than drowning?" he inquired.

Sigurd met the fling with obstinate composure. "Are you blind to the greenness of yonder plain? And do you not feel the sun upon you?"

All at once it occurred to Alwin that the icy wind of the headlands had ceased to blow; the fog had vanished, and there was a genial warmth in the air about him. And yonder,—certainly yonder meadow was as green as the camp in Norway. He threw off one of his cloaks and settled himself to watch.

Gradually the green patches became more numerous, until the level was covered with nothing else. In one place, he almost thought he caught a gleam of golden buttercups. The verdure crept up the snow-clad slopes, hundreds and thousands of feet; and here and there, beside some foaming little cataract tumbling down from a glacier-fed stream, a rhododendron glowed like a rosy flame. They passed the last island, covered with a copse of willows as high as a tall man's head, and came into an open stretch of water bordered by rolling pasture lands, filled with daisies and mild-eyed cattle. Sigurd clutched the English boy's arm excitedly.

"Yonder are Eric's ship-sheds! And there—over that hill, where the smoke is rising—there is Brattahlid!"

"There?" exclaimed Alwin. "Now it was in my mind that you had told me that Eric's house was built on Eric's Fiord."

"So it is,—or two miles from there, which is of little importance. Oh, yes, it stands on the very banks of Einar's Fiord; but since that is a route one takes only when he visits the other parts of the settlement, and seldom when he runs out to sea—Is that a man I see upon the landing?"

"If they have not already seen us and come down to meet us, their eyes are less sharp than they were wont to be three years ago," Rolf began; when Sigurd answered his own question.

"They are there; do you not see? Crowds of them—between the sheds. Someone is waving a cloak. By Saint Michael, the sight of Normandy did not gladden me like this!"

"Let down sail! drop anchor, and make the boats ready to lower," came in Valbrand's heavy drone.



CHAPTER XIII

ERIC THE RED IN HIS DOMAIN

Givers, hail! A guest is come in; Where shall he sit?

Water to him is needful Who for refection comes, A towel and hospitable invitation, A good reception; If he can get it, Discourse and answer. Ha'vama'l

Ten by ten, the ship's boat brought them to land, and into the crowd of armed retainers, house servants, field hands, and thralls. A roar of delight greeted the appearance of Helga; and Sigurd was nearly overturned by welcoming hands. It seemed that the crowd stood too much in awe of Leif to salute him with any familiarity, but they made way for him most respectfully; and a pack of shaggy dogs fell upon him and almost tore him to pieces in the frenzy of their joyful recognition. A fusillade of shoulder-slapping filled the air. Not a buxom maid but found some brawny neck to fling her arms about, receiving a hearty smack for her pains. Nor were the men more backward; it was only by clinging like a burr to her mistress's side that Editha escaped a dozen vigorous caresses. Alwin, with his short hair and his contradictorily rich dress, was stared at in outspoken curiosity. The men whispered that Leif had become so grand that he must have a page to carry his cloak, like the King himself. The women said that, in any event, the youth looked handsome, and black became his fair complexion. Kark scowled as he stepped ashore and heard their comments.

"Where is my father, Thorhall?" he demanded, giving his hand with far more haughtiness than the chief.

"He has gone hunting with Thorwald Ericsson," one of the house thralls informed him. "He will not be back until to-night."

Whereupon Kark's colorless face became mottled with red temper-spots, and he pushed rudely through the throng and disappeared among the ship-sheds.

"Is my brother Thorstein also in Greenland?" Leif asked the servant.

But the man answered that Eric's youngest son was absent on a visit to his mother's kin in Iceland. When the boat had brought the last man to land, the "Sea-Deer" was left to float at rest until the time of her unloading; and they began to move up from the shore in a boisterous procession.

Between rich pastures and miniature forests of willow and birch and alder, a broad lane ran east over green hill and dale. Amid a babel of talk and laughter, they passed along the lane, the rank and file performing many jovial capers, slipping bold arms around trim waists and scuffling over bundles of treasure. Over hill and dale they went for nearly two miles; then, some four hundred feet from the rocky banks of Einar's Fiord, the lane ended before the wide-thrown gates of a high fence.

If the gates had been closed, one might have guessed what was inside; so unvarying was the plan of Norse manors. A huge quadrangular courtyard was surrounded by substantial buildings. To the right was the great hall, with the kitchens and storehouses. Across the inner side stood the women's house, with the herb-garden on one hand, and the guest-chambers on the other. To the left were the stables, the piggery, the sheep-houses, the cow-sheds, and the smithies.

No sooner had they passed the gates than a second avalanche of greetings fell upon them. Gathered together in the grassy space were more armed retainers, more white-clad thralls, more barking dogs, more house servants in holiday attire, and, at the head of them, the far-famed Eric the Red and his strong-minded Thorhild.

One glance at the Red One convinced Alwin that his reputation did not belie him. It was not alone his floating hair and his long beard that were fiery; his whole person looked capable of instantaneous combustion. His choleric blue eyes, now twinkling with good humor, a spark could kindle into a blaze. A breath could fan the ruddy spots on his cheeks into flames.

As Alwin watched him, he said to himself, "It is not that he was three times exiled for manslaughter which surprises me,—it is that he was not exiled thirty times."

Alwin looked curiously at the plump matron, with the stately head-dress of white linen and the bunch of jingling keys at her girdle, and had a surprise of a different kind. Certainly there were no soft curves in her resolute mouth, and her eyes were as keen as Leif's; yet it was neither a cruel face nor a shrewish one. It was full of truth and strength, and there was comeliness in her broad smooth brow and in the unfaded roses of her cheeks. Ah, and now that the keen eyes had fallen upon Leif, they were no longer sharp; they were soft and deep with mother-love, and radiant with pride. Her hands stirred as though they could not wait to touch him.

There was a pause of some decorum, while the chief embraced his parents; then the tumult burst forth. No man could hear himself, much less his neighbor.

Under cover of the confusion, Alwin approached Helga. Having no greetings of his own to occupy him, he made over his interest to others. The shield-maiden was standing on the very spot where Leif had left her, Editha clinging to her side. She was gazing at Thorhild and nervously clasping and unclasping her hands.

Alwin said in her ear: "She will make you a better mother than Bertha of Trondhjem. It is my advice that you reconcile yourself to her at once."

"It was in my mind," Helga said slowly, "it was in my mind that I could love her!"

Shaking off Editha, she took a hesitating step forward. Thorhild had parted from Leif, and turned to welcome Sigurd. Helga took another step. Thorhild raised her head and looked at her. When she saw the picturesque figure, with its short kirtle and its shirt of steel, she drew herself up stiffly, and it was evident that she tried to frown; but Helga walked quickly up to her and put her arms about her neck and laid her head upon her breast and clung there.

By and by the matron slipped an arm around the girl's waist, then one around her shoulders. Finally she bent her head and kissed her. Directly after, she pushed her off and held her at arm's length.

"You have grown like a leek. I wonder that such a life has not ruined your complexion. Was cloth so costly in Norway that Leif could afford no more for a skirt? You shall put on one of mine the instant we get indoors. It is time you had a woman to look after you."

But Helga was no longer repelled by her severity; she could appreciate now what lay beneath it. She said, "Yes, kinswoman," with proper submissiveness, and then looked over at Alwin with laughing eyes.

Eric's voice now made itself heard above the din. "Bring them into the house, you simpletons! Bring them indoors! Will you keep them starving while you gabble? Bring them in, and spread the tables, and fill up the horns. Drink to the Lucky One in the best mead in Greenland. Come in, come in! In the Troll's name, come in, and be welcome!"

Rolf smiled his guileless smile aside to Egil. "It is likely that he will say other things 'in the Troll's name' when he finds out why the Lucky One has come," he murmured.



CHAPTER XIV

FOR THE SAKE OF THE CROSS

A wary guest Who to refection comes Keeps a cautious silence; With his ears listens, And with his eyes observes: So explores every prudent man. Ha'vama'l

In accordance with the fashion of the day, Brattahlid was a hall not only in the sense of being a large room, but in being a building by itself,—and a building it was of entirely unique appearance. Instead of consisting of huge logs, as Norse houses almost invariably did, three sides of it had been built of immense blocks of red sandstone; and for the fourth side, a low, perpendicular, smooth rock had been used, so that one of the inner walls was formed by a natural cliff between ten and twelve feet high. Undoubtedly it was from this peculiarity that the name Brattahlid had been bestowed upon it, Brattahlid signifying 'steep side of a rock.' Its style was the extreme of simplicity, for a square opening in the roof took the place of a chimney, and it had few windows, and those were small and filled with a bladder-like membrane instead of glass; yet it was not without a certain impressiveness. The hall was so large that nearly two hundred men could find seats on the two benches that ran through it from end to end. Its walls were of a symmetry and massiveness to outlast the wear of centuries; and the interior had even a certain splendor.

To-night, decked for a feast, it was magnificent to behold. Gay-hued tapestries covered the sides, along which rows of round shields overlapped each other like bright painted scales. Over the benches were laid embroidered cloths; while the floor was strewn with straw until it sparkled as with a carpet of spun gold. Before the benches, on either side of the long stone hearth that ran through the centre of the hall, stood tables spread with covers of flax bleached white as foam. The light of the crackling pine torches quivered and flashed from gilded vessels, and silver-covered trenchers, and goblets of rarely beautiful glass, ruby and amber and emerald green.

"I have nowhere seen a finer hall," Alwin admitted to Sigurd, as they pushed their way in through the crowd. "If the high-seats were different, and the fire-place was against the wall, and there were reeds upon the floor instead of straw, it would not be unlike what my father's castle was."

"If I were altogether different, would I look like a Saxon maiden also?" Helga's voice laughed in his ear. She had come in through the women's door, with Thorhild and a throng of high-born women. Already she was transformed. A trailing gown of blue made her seem to have grown a head taller. Bits of finery—a gold belt at her waist, a gold brooch on her breast, a string of amber beads around the white neck that showed coquettishly above the snowy kerchief—banished the last traces of the shield-maiden, For the first time, it occurred to Alwin that she was more than a good comrade,—she was a girl, a beautiful girl, the kind that some day a man would love and woo and win. He gazed at her with wonder and admiration, and something more; gazed so intently that he did not see Egil's eyes fastened upon him.

Helga laughed at his surprise; then she frowned. "If you say that you like me better in these clothes, I shall be angry with you," she whispered sharply.

Fortunately, Alwin was not obliged to commit himself. At that moment the headwoman or housekeeper, who was also mistress of ceremonies in the absence of the steward, came bustling through the crowd, and divided the men from the women, indicating to every one his place according to the strictest interpretation of the laws of precedence.

If there had been more time for preparation there would have been a larger company to greet the returned guardsman. Yet the messengers Thorhild had hastily despatched had brought back nearly a score of chiefs and their families; and what with their additional attendants, and Leif's band of followers, and Eric's own household, there were few empty places along the walls.

According to custom, Eric sat in his high-seat between two lofty carved pillars midway the northern length of the hall. Thorhild sat in the seat with him; the high-born men were placed upon his right; the high-born women were upon her left. Opposite them, as became the guest of honor and his father's eldest son, Leif was established in the other high-seat. Tyrker, weazened and blinking, and swaddled in furs, sat on one side of him; Jarl Harald's son was on the other, merry-eyed, fresh-faced, and dressed like a prince. On either hand, like beads on a necklace, the crew of the "Sea-Deer" were strung along. Kark came the very last of the line, in the lowest seat by the door. Alwin had fresh cause to be grateful to the fate that had changed their stations. His place was on the foot-stool before Leif's high-seat, guarding the chief's cup. It was an honorable place, and one from which he could see and hear, and even speak with Sigurd when anything happened that was too interesting to keep to himself.

Among Leif's men there were many temptations to consult together. Not one but was waiting in tense expectancy for the move that should disclose the guardsman's mission. They had sternest commands from Leif to take no step without his order. They had equally positive word from Valbrand to defend their chief at all hazards. Between the two, they sat breathless and strained, even while they swallowed the delicacies before them.

When the towels and hand-basins had gone quite around, and all the food had been put upon the table, and the feast was well under way, three musicians were brought in bearing fiddles and a harp. Their performance formed a cover under which the guests could relieve their minds.

"Do you observe that he has let his crucifix slide around under his cloak where it is not likely to be noticed?" one whispered to another. "It is my belief that he wishes to put off the evil hour."