"What I wanted to say is, that if it is your wish, I will persuade my mother to withdraw her offer."

After a while Helga shook her head. "No. He would only sell her to some one else. It would trouble me to think of her among strangers, and your mother would treat her kindly." She paused, at the top of the stile they were climbing over, to look down at him earnestly. "I should be thankful if you would promise me that, Egil. You are master now, and can have your will about everything. Promise me you will see that she is well treated."

"I promise you." Helga threw a grateful look after him, as he went along before her. "Your word is like a rock, Egil. One could hold on to it though everything else should roll away."

The cloud was passing from her face. By the time she gained his side, the rose-garden was once more radiant in sunlight.

"After all, I do not feel that I have a right to let anything grieve me much, since God has given Alwin back from the dead. I set my mind to thinking of that, and then everything else seems small and easily remedied. Even Gilli's coming it is possible to turn to profit. I have a fine plan—"

She broke off abruptly as, through a clump of white-birch trees, she caught sight of a tiny cabin nestled in their green shelter.

"That is Solveig's house; now I remember it! How is it possible that it has held such a secret for four months, and still looks just as usual? Let us hurry!" She seized his arm to pull him along. Only when he wrenched away and came to a dead stop, did she slacken her pace to stare at him over her shoulder.

"Do you wish to drive me crazy?" he shouted.

She thought him already so, and drew back.

He waited to take a fresh grip on his self-control. When he spoke at last, it was with labored slowness: "Every week for four months I have come to this door and asked the Englishman how he fared; and he has not wished for anything that I have not given it to him. The night they left him with me, I could have put my fingers around his throat and killed him; and no one would have known. But I held my hands behind me, and allowed him to live. So far, I have kept my oath of friendship. Do you wish me to go in with you and break it now?"

Before she could gather her wits together to answer him, he was gone.

Standing where he had left her, she stared after him, open-mouthed, until her eye fell upon the cabin among the bushes, when she forgot everything else in the world. She ran toward it and threw open the door.

The low room was smoky and badly lighted. Before she could distinguish her lover in the dimness, he was upon her, calling her name over and over, crushing her hands in his. She cried out, and lifted her face, and his lips met hers, warm and living. It was the same as though nothing had happened since last she saw him.

No, not quite the same; she saw that, the instant she drew back. Alwin was very thin, and in the half-light his face showed white and haggard. An ugly scar stretched half across his forehead. At the sight of it her eyes flashed, and she reached up and touched with her lips the fiery mark.

"How I hate Leif for that!" Then she saw the greatest change of all in him, the quiet grimness that had come upon him out of his nights of pain and days of solitude.

"That is unfairly spoken, sweetheart. I have but paid the price I agreed to pay if luck went against me. Leif has dealt with me only according to justice; that I will maintain, though I die under his sword at the last."

She drew a quick, sharp breath. In the joy of recovery, she had let herself forget that he is only half alive who lives under the shadow of a death sentence. She set her teeth over her lip to stop its trembling, and stiffened herself to the iron composure of a shield-maiden.

"It is true that you are yet in great danger. His anger has not yet departed from him, for not once has your name passed his lips. Sit down here and tell me what you think of your case."

Alwin recalled the weeping and fainting of his mother's waiting-women, in that far-off time of trouble, and pressed her hand gratefully as he took his seat by her side upon the bench. "You are my brave comrade as well as my best friend. I can talk with you as I would with Sigurd."

Just for a moment she laid her cheek against his shoulder. "It gladdens me that you are content with me as I am, instead of wishing me to be like Bertha of Trondhjem and other women," she whispered.

Then the memory linked with that name caused her to straighten again and look at him doubtfully. "Has Solveig told you all the latest tidings?"

"She has told me nothing for a week. She is up at the hall just now, helping with the spinning; but Editha was here two days ago. Is it of King Olaf that you are thinking? She told me of the battle; and I am full of sorrow for Leif. She told me that his room was draped in black, and that he stopped preparing for his exploring voyage and shut himself up for four days and four nights, without eating or speaking."

"He has begun his preparations again. His sorrow is not worth considering. Or, rather, I shall grieve with him when he grieves for you. The tidings that I mean concern Gilli of Trondhjem. Do you know that he has come to take me away?"

She wanted to see the despair in his face, that she might feel how much he cared; then she hastened to reassure him. "But do not trouble yourself over that. Even though I go with him, it will do no harm. If he tries to marry me to anyone, I will pretend that I think the marriage beneath me. I will work upon his greediness, and so trick him into waiting; and in a year you will come and rescue me."

"If I am alive!" Alwin interrupted her sharply. He sprang up and began to pace the floor, clenching his fists and knocking them together. "If I am alive I will come. But it is by no means unlikely that Leif will carry out his intention. Then you will be left in Gilli's power forever."

She laughed as she went to him and brought him back and pushed him down upon the bench.

"See how love makes a coward of a man as well as of a woman! But do not trouble yourself over that, either. Have you never heard the love-tale of Hagberth and Signe? How, the same moment in which she saw him hanged upon the gallows, she set fire to her house and strangled herself with her ribbons, so that their two souls met on the threshold of Paradise and went in together? If you die, I will die too; and that will arrange everything." She clung to him for a moment, and he feared that she was about to dishonor her shield by a burst of tears.

But in an instant she looked up at him with her brave smile. "We will end this talk about dying, however. Remember the old saying, 'If a man's time has not come, something is sure to aid him.' There is another fate in store for you than to lose your life in this matter, or you would have died when Leif struck you down. I love the cap that saved you! We will not talk about dying, but only of our hopes. I have planned how Gilli may be made useful, so that on his vessel you can escape to Norway."

She put her hand over his mouth as he would have spoken. "No, listen to me before you say anything against it. Gilli will sail next week. At that time Leif will be absent on a visit to Biorn Herjulfsson, who has just returned to Greenland from Norway. With Leif, Kark will go, so that we shall not have his prying eyes to fear. What would prevent you from stealing down to the shore, the night before we sail, and swimming out to the ship and hiding yourself in one of the great chests in the foreroom? The steersman will not hinder you, for I have spoken so many fine words to him, with this deed in view, that he is ready to chop off his head at my bidding. Thus will you get far out at sea before they discover you. Gilli will not know that he has ever seen you before, you are so white and changed; and when he has taken away all the property you have on you, he will say nothing further about the matter. So will you be brought to Norway,—and thence it is not far to your England, though I do not know if that is of any importance. But if you say that this plan is otherwise than ingenious, I shall be angry with you."

Alwin vented a short laugh. "It is most ingenious, comrade. The only trouble with it is that I have no ambition to go either to Norway or to England."

This time it was he who sealed her lips, as her amazement was about to burst through them.

"Give me a hearing and you will understand. I do not wish to go to England because I could do nothing there to improve my credit in any way. My kin have disappeared like withered grass, and the Danes are all-powerful. I do not wish to go to Norway because there I could never be more than a runaway slave; and though I strove to my uttermost, it is unlikely that I could ever acquire either wealth or influence,—and without both how would it ever be possible to win you? See how the North has conquered me! First it was only my body that was bound; and I was sure that, if ever I got my freedom, I should enter the service of some English lord and die fighting against the Danes. And now a Norse maiden has conquered my heart, so that I would not take my liberty if it were offered me! No, no, sweetheart; I have thought of it, night and day, until at last I see the truth. The only chance I have is with Leif."

Helga wrung her hands violently. "You must be crazy if you think so! He would strike you down the instant his eyes—"

"It is not my intention that he shall know me until he has had cause to soften toward me. Do you not remember Skroppa's prophecy? has not Sigurd told you of it?—that it is in this new untrodden country that my fate is to be decided? I will disguise myself in some way, and go on this exploring expedition among his following. I shall have many chances to be of service to him."

"But suppose they should not come soon enough? Suppose your disguise should be too shallow? His eyes are like arrows that pierce everything they are aimed at. Suppose he should recognize you at once?"

The new grimness again squared Alwin's mouth. "Then one of two things will happen. Either he will pardon me, for the sake of what I have already endured; or else he will keep to his first intention, and kill me. In neither case will we be worse off than we were four months ago."

Such logic admitted of no reply, and Helga gave way to it. But so much anguish was betrayed in her face, that Alwin gave another short laugh and asked her:

"Who is it now that love is making a coward of?"

She shook her head gravely. "I am no coward. It gladdens me to have you face death in this way, and to know that you will not murmur even if luck goes against you. But I do not wish you to throw your life away; and you know no prudence. Let us speak of this disguise. What have you fixed upon?"

"I acknowledge that I have accomplished very little. Solveig has told me of a bark whose juice is such that with it I can turn my skin brown like that of the Southerners. And I have decided to make believe that I am a Frankish man. I know not a little of their tongue, which will help to disguise my speech. But how I am to cover up my short hair, or account for my appearance in Greenland—" He shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his chin upon his fist.

Helga clasped her hands around her knee and stared at him thoughtfully. "I have heard Sigurd tell of a strange wonder he saw in France,—I do not know what you call it,—like a hood made of people's hair. A girl who had lost her hair through sickness was wont to wear it; and Sigurd did not even suspect that it was rootless, until one day she caught the ends in her cloak, and pulled it off. If you could get one of those—"

"If!" Alwin murmured. But Helga did not hear him. Suddenly, in the dim perspective of her mind, she had caught a glimpse of a plan. As she darted at it, it eluded her; but she chased it to and fro, seeing it more clearly at each turn. Finally she caught it. She leaped up and opened her mouth to shout it forth, when an impulse of Editha's caution touched her, and instead, she threw her arms around his neck and laughed it into his ear.

He drew back and gazed at her with dawning appreciation. She nodded excitedly.

"Is it not well fitted to succeed? You can escape to Norway as I planned, and after that you can easily reach Normandy. All that you lack is gold, and Leif and Gilli have covered me with that."

His face kindled as he mused on it. "It sounds possible. Sigurd's friends would receive me well for his sake; and after I had got everything for my disguise, I would have yet many good chances to return to Nidaros and board the ship of Arnor Gunnarsson, who comes here each summer on a trading voyage. Coming that way, who could suspect me?—particularly when it is everyone's belief that I am dead."

"No one!" Helga cried joyously. "No one! It is perfect!"

In a sudden burst of gratitude, he caught her hands and kissed them. "All is due to you, then. It is an unheard-of cleverness! You must be a Valkyria! Only a great hero is worthy of a maid like you."

Laughing with pleasure, she hid her face on his breast. And it must be that her plan possessed some of the advantages she claimed for it, for it came to pass that, on the same day that Gilli and his daughter set sail for Norway, a fair-skinned thrall with a shaven head disappeared from Greenland so completely that even Kark's keen eyes would have found it impossible to trace him.



CHAPTER XXIII

A FAMILIAR BLADE IN A STRANGE SHEATH

"Now it is related that Bjarni Herjulfsson came from Greenland to Eirek Jarl, who received him well. Bjarni described his voyage and the lands that he had seen. People thought he had shown a lack of interest as he had nothing to tell about them, and he was somewhat blamed for it. He became the Jarl's hirdman and went to Greenland the following summer, Now there was much talk about land discoveries."—FLATEYJARBO'K.

The week after Gilli's departure for Norway, Leif returned from his visit to Herjulf's Cape, and made public his intention to take Biorn's barren beginning and carry it out to a definite finish. He brought with him three of the men of Biorn's old crew, and also the same stanch little trading-vessel in which Herjulfsson had made his journey. The ship-sheds upon the shore became at once the scene of endless overhauling and repairing. Thorhild's women laid aside their embroidering for the task of sail-making. There began a ransacking of every hut on the commons and every fishing-station along the coast, for the latest improved hunting-gear and fishing-tackle; and day after day Tyrker rode among the farms, purchasing stores of grain and smoked meats.

As the old saga says: "Now there was much talk about land discoveries." The Lucky One became the hero of the hour. With all its stubbornness, Eric's pride could not but be gratified. He began to show signs of relenting. Gradually he ceased to avert his face. One day, he even worked himself up to making a gruff inquiry into their plans.

"If we return with great fame, it is likely his pleasure will reconcile him entirely," Leif's men chuckled to each other.

The diplomatic guardsman was quick to understand the change, but as usual, he went a step beyond their expectations. The day after his father made this first advance, he invited him to inspect the exploring ship and advise them concerning her equipment. While they stood upon the shore, admiring the coat of scarlet paint that was being laid upon her hull, he suddenly offered the Red One the leadership of the expedition.

Eric's eyes caught fire, and his wiry old frame straightened and swelled with eagerness. Then, though his eyes still sparkled, his chest sank like a pierced bladder.

"It is not possible for me to go. I am too old, and less able to bear hardship than formerly."

Rolf and the steersman, who had overheard the offer, exchanged glances of relief, and allowed themselves to breathe again. But to their consternation, Leif did not take advantage of this loop-hole. He argued and urged, until Eric drew in another long breath of excitement, until his aged muscles tingled and twitched with a spasm of youthful ardor, until at last, in a burst of almost hysterical enthusiasm, he accepted the offer. In the warmth of his pleasure, he grasped his son's hand and publicly received him back into his affections. But at the moment, this was cold comfort for Leif's followers. They turned from their painting and hammering and polishing, to stare at their lord in amazed disapproval. The instant the two chiefs had gone up from the shore, complaints broke out like explosions.

"That old heathen at the steering-oar! All the bad luck in the world may be expected!"—"Nowhere lives a man more domineering than Eric the Red." "What is to become of Leif's renown, if the glory is to go to that old pagan?"—"Skroppa has turned a curse against the Lucky One. He has been deprived of his mind."

"It is in my mind that part of that is true," Rolf said thoughtfully, leaning on the spear-shaft he was sharpening. "I believe the Saxon Saints' Book has bewitched his reason. From that, I have heard the Englishman read of men who gave up honor lest it might make them vain. I believe Leif Ericsson is humbling his pride, like some beaten monk."

He was interrupted by a chorus of disgust. "Yah! If he has become such a woman as that!"—"A man who fears bad luck."—"A brave man bears the result of his action, whatever it is."—"The Saints' Book is befitting old men who have lost their teeth."—"Christianity is a religion for women."

Sigurd struck in for the first time. Although he had been frowning with vexation, some touch of compunction had held him silent. "I will not allow you to say that, nor should you wish to speak so." He hesitated, rubbing his chin perplexedly. "I acknowledge that I experience the same disgust that you do; yet I am not altogether certain that we are right. I remember hearing my father say that what these saints did was more difficult than any achievement of Thor. And I have heard King Olaf Trygvasson read out of the Holy Book that a man who controls his own passions is more to be admired than a man who conquers a city."

For perhaps two or three minutes there was a lull in the grumbling. But it was not to be expected, in that brutal age, that moral strength should find a keen appreciation. Indeed, Sigurd's words were far from ringing with his own conviction. Little by little, the discontent broke out again. At last it grew so near to mutiny, that the steersman felt called upon to exercise his authority.

"All this is foolishly spoken, concerning something you know nothing of. Undoubtedly Leif has an excellent reason for what he does. It may be that he considers it of the greatest importance to secure Eric's friendship. Or it may be that he intends to lead him into some uninhabited place, that he may kill him and get rid of his ill-temper. It is certain that he has some good reason. Go back to your work, and make your minds easy that now, as always, some good will result from his actions."

The men still growled as they obeyed him; but however right or wrong he was regarding Leif's motives, he was proved correct in his prophecy. Out of that moment on shore, came the good of a complete reconciliation with Eric. No more were there cold shoulders, and half-veiled gibes, and long evenings of gloomy restraint. No longer were Leif's followers obliged to sit with teeth on their tongues and hands on their swords. The warmth of gratification that had melted the ice of Eric's displeasure seemed to have set free torrents of generosity and good-will. His ruddy face beamed above the board like a harvest moon; if Leif would have accepted it, he would have presented him with the entire contents of Brattahlid. Following their chief's example, his retainers locked arms with their former enemies and swore them eternal brotherhood. Night after night they drank out of the same horns, and strengthened their bonds in lauding their chiefs. Never had the great hall seen a time of such radiant good cheer.

By the last week of Leif's preparations, interest and enthusiasm had spread into every corner of inhabited Greenland. Strings of people began to make pilgrimages to stare at the exploring vessel that had once been within sight of the "wonder-shores" and now seemed destined actually to touch them. Men came from ail parts of the country in the hope of joining her crew, and were furious with disappointment when told that her equipment was limited to thirty-five, and that that number had already been made up from among Leif's own followers. Warriors thronged to visit the Lucky One, until the hall benches were filled, and the courtyard was so crowded with attendants that there was barely room for the servants to run between the horses with the ale horns. Outside the fence there was nearly always a mob of children and paupers and thralls lying in wait, like a wolf-pack, to tear information out of any member of the household who should venture beyond the gates.

Usually it was only vague rumor and meagre report that fell to the share of these outsiders; but the day before Leif's departure it happened that they got a bit of excitement first-hand.

Late that afternoon word went around that the trading-ship of Arnor Gunnarsson was coming up Eric's Fiord. The arrival of that merchant was one of the events of the year. Not only did it occasion great feasting among the rich, which meant additional alms among the poor, but besides a chance to feast one's stomach, it meant an opportunity to feast one's eyes on beautiful garments and wonderful weapons; and in addition to all else, it meant such a budget of news and gossip and thrilling yarns as should supply local conversation with a year's stock of topics,—a stock always run low and rather shopworn towards the end of the long winters. At the first hint of the "Eastman's" approach, a crowd of idlers was gathered out of nowhere as quickly as buzzards are drawn out of empty space.

As the heavy dun-colored merchantman came slowly to its berth and the anchor fell with a rattle and a splash, the motley crowd cheered shrilly. When the ruddy gold-bearded trader appeared at the side, ready to clamber into the boat his men were lowering, they cheered again. And they regarded it as an appropriate tribute to the importance of the occasion when one of their number came running over the sand to announce breathlessly that Leif Ericsson himself was riding down to greet the arrivals, accompanied by no less a person than his high-born foster-son.

"Although it is no great wonder that the Lucky One feels interest," they told each other. "The last time that Eric the Red came to meet traders, they returned his greeting with a sweep of their arms toward their ships, and an invitation to take whatever of its contents best pleased him."

"The strange wonder to me," mumbled one old man, "is that it is always to those who have sufficient wealth to purchase them that presents are given. It may be that Odin knows why gifts are seldom given to the poor: certainly I think one needs to be all-wise to understand it."

His companions clapped their hands over his mouth, and pointed at the approaching boat.

"Look!"—"Look there!"—"It is a king's son!" they cried. And then it was that their hungry teeth closed upon their morsel of excitement.

In the bow of the boat, shining like a jewel against the dark background of the trader's dun mantle, stood a most splendidly arrayed young warrior. The fading sunbeams that played on his gilded helm revealed shining armor and a golden cross embossed upon a gold-rimmed shield. Still nearer, and it could be seen that his cloak was of crimson velvet lined with sables, and that gold-embroideries and jewelled clasps flashed with every motion.

Buzzing with curiosity, they crowded down to the water's edge to meet him. The keel bit the sand; he stepped ashore into their very midst, and even that close scrutiny did not lessen his attractions. His olive-tinted face was haughtily handsome; his fine black hair fell upon his shoulders in long silken curls; he was tall and straight and supple, and his bearing was bold and proud as an eagle's.

"He is well fitted to be a king's son," they repeated one to another. And those in front respectfully gave way before him, while those behind fell over one another to get near in case he should speak,—and Leif himself paused in his greeting of Arnor Gunnarsson to look at the stranger curiously.

The youth stood running his eyes over the faces of those around him, until his gaze fell upon Sigurd Haraldsson. He uttered a loud exclamation, and sprang forward with outstretched hand.

Sigurd's cheeks, which had been looking rather pale, suddenly became very red; and he leaped from his horse and started forward. Then he wavered, stopped, and hesitated, staring.

"Mon ami!" said the stranger, in some odd heathen tongue very different from good plain Norse. "Mon ami!" He took another step forward, and this time their palms met.

The spectators who were watching Sigurd Haraldsson, whispered that the young warrior must be the last man on earth that he expected to see in Greenland, and also the man that he loved the best of all his sworn brothers. The fair-haired jarl's son and he of the raven locks stood grasping each other's hands and looking into each other's eyes as though they had forgotten there was anyone else in the world.

"He looks to be a man to be bold in the presence of chiefs, does he not?" the trader observed to Leif Ericsson, regarding the pair benevolently as he stood twisting his long yellow mustache. "He said to me that the jarl's son was his friend; it is great luck that he should find him so soon. He is somewhat haughty-minded, as is the wont of Normans, but he is free with his gold." And the thrifty merchant patted his money-bag absently.

The crowd circulated the news in excited whispers. "He is a friend of Sigurd Haraldsson."—"He is a Norman."—"That accounts for the swarthiness of his skin."—"Is it in the Norman tongue that they are speaking?"—"Normandy? Is that the land Rolf the Ganger laid under his sword?"—"Hush! Sigurd is leading him to the chief."—"Now we shall learn what his errand is."

And the boldest of them pushed almost within whip-range of the pair.

But there was no difficulty about hearing, for Sigurd spoke out in a loud clear voice: "Foster-father, I wish to make known to you my friend and comrade who has just now arrived on the Eastman's vessel. He is called Robert Sans-Peur, because his courage is such as is seldom found. I got great kindness from his kin when I was in Normandy."

The Norman said nothing, but he did what the bystanders considered rather surprising in a knee-crooking Frenchman. Neither bending his body nor doffing his helmet, he folded his arms across his breast and looked straight into the Lucky One's eyes.

"As though," one fellow muttered, "as though he would read in the chief's very face whether or not it was his intention to be friendly!"

"Hush!" his neighbor interrupted him. "Leif is drawing off his glove. It may be that he is going to honor him for his boldness."

And so indeed it proved. In another moment, the chief had extended his bare hand to the haughty Southerner.

"I have an honorable greeting for all brave men, even though they be friendless," he said, with lofty courtesy. "How much warmer then is the state of my feelings toward one who is also a friend of Sigurd Haraldsson? Be welcome, Robert Sans-Peur. The best that Brattahlid has to offer shall not be thought too good for you."

Whether or not he could speak it, it was evident that the Fearless One understood the Northern tongue. His haughtiness passed from him like a shadow. Uncovering his raven locks, he bowed low,—and would have set his lips to the extended hand if the chief, foreseeing his danger, had not saved himself by dexterously withdrawing it.

Sigurd, still flushed and nervous, spoke again: "You have taken this so well, foster-father, that it is in my mind to ask of you a boon which I should be thankful if you would grant. As far off as Normandy, my friend has heard tidings of this exploring-journey of yours; and he has come all this way in the hope of being allowed to join your following. He has the matter much at heart. If my wishes are at all powerful with you, you will not deny him."

A murmur of delight ran through the crowd. That this splendid personage should have come to do homage to their hero, was the final dramatic touch which their imaginations craved. It was with difficulty that they repressed a cheer.

But the guardsman looked puzzled to the point of incredulity.

"Heard the tidings as far as Normandy?" he repeated. "A matter of so little importance to anyone? How is that likely?" Straightening in his saddle, he looked at the Norman for a moment with eyes that were more keen than courteous.

"He would be liable to disaster who should try to put a trick upon Leif Ericsson," the thrall-born whispered.

Robert Sans-Peur was in no wise disconcerted. Meeting the keen eyes, he answered in plain if halting Norse: "The renowned chief has forgotten that early this season a trading-ship went from here to Trondhjem. Not a few of her shipmates went further than Nidaros. One of them, who was called Gudbrand-wi'-the-Scar, travelled even so far as Rouen, where it was my good fortune to encounter him."

"It is true that I had forgotten that," the chief said, slowly. He lowered his gaze to his horse's ears and sat for a while lost in thought. Then once more he extended his hand to the Southerner.

"It appears to me that you are a man of energy and resource," he said, with a return of his former cordiality. "Since wind and wave have not hindered you from your desire, it would be unheard-of churlishness for me to refuse you. Get now into my saddle and allow your friend to conduct you to the hall. It is necessary that I oversee the storing of these wares, but after the night-meal we will speak further of the matter." To forestall any further attempts at hand-kissing, he sprang from his horse and strode over to the trader.

With an air of grave ceremony that was swallowed open-mouthed by the onlookers, Sigurd held his friend's stirrup; then, quickly remounting his own steed, the pair rode off.

This time the mob would not be restrained, but burst into a roar of delight.

"Here at last is a great happening that we have seen with our own eyes!" they told each other, as they settled down at a safe distance to watch Leif and the merchant turning over the bales of goods which the sailors were engaged in bringing to shore. "This will be something to relate in time to come,—a great event concerning which we understand everything."

"'Concerning which we understand everything!'" Sigurd, overhearing them, repeated laughingly to his friend as they galloped up the lane.

Robert the Fearless laughed too, with a vibration of uneasiness in the peal.

"Few there are who are capable of making that boast," he answered. "Even you, comrade, are unequal to it. Here now is something that is worth a hearing." Leaning from his saddle, he poured into Sigurd's ear a stream of low-toned words that caused the Silver-Tongued to stop short and stare at him incredulously, and then look back at the anchored ship and pound his knee in a fury of exasperation.

The cloud rested on Sigurd's sunny face for the rest of the evening. Thorhild, enchanted at the tribute to her idolized son, plied the stranger with every attention; and Kark himself, for all his foxy eyes, removed the gilded helm from the smooth black locks without a thought to try whether or no they were indigenous to the scalp from which they sprang,—but Sigurd's brow did not lighten.

As they put a final polish upon their shields and hung them for the last time upon the wall behind their seats, Rolf said to him with a searching glance: "It is hidden from me why you look so black, comrade. If it were not for the drawback of old Eric at the steering-oar, certainly every circumstance would be as favorable as could be expected."

Sigurd arose and pulled his cloak down from its peg with a vicious jerk.

"There are other witless people besides Eric the Red who thrust themselves where they are not wanted," he retorted grimly. Then, turning abruptly, he strode out into the darkness; and none of the household saw him again until morning.

The sun rose upon a perfect day, warm and bright, with the wind in the right quarter, steady and strong. And as if to make sure that not even one thing should mar so auspicious a beginning, Leif's luck swept away the only drawback that Rolf had been able to name.

Down in the lane, midway between the foot where it opened upon the shore and the head where it ended at the fence, there lay a bit of a rock. A small stone or a big pebble was all it was, but in the hands of Leif's luck it took on the importance of a boulder.

When the moment of departure arrived, and the cavalcade poured out of the courtyard gates, with a clanking of armor and a flapping of gorgeous new mantles, warmed by the horns of parting ale that had steamed down their throats, singing and boasting and laughing, and cheered by the rabble that ran alongside, their way down to the shore lay directly over the head of this insignificant pebble. Who would have thought of avoiding it? Yet, though a score of children's feet danced over it unharmed, and sixty pairs of horses' hoofs pranced over it unhindered, when Eric reached it his good bay mare stumbled against it and fell, so that her rider was thrown from his saddle and rolled in the dust.

There were no bones broken; he was no more than shaken; he was up before they could reach him; but his face was gray with disappointment, and his frame had shrunk like a withered leaf.

"It is a warning from the gods that I am on the wrong road," he said hoarsely. "It is a sign that it cannot be my fate to be the discoverer of any other land than the one on which we now live. My luck go with you, my son; but I cannot."

Before they could remonstrate, he had wheeled his horse and left them, riding with the bent head and drooping shoulders of an old, old man.

A stern sign from Valbrand restrained Leif's men from venting the cheers they were bursting with; but the looks they darted at their leader, and then at each other, said as plainly as words: "It is his never-failing luck. Why did we ever doubt him? We would follow him into the Sea of Worms and believe that it would end favorably."

In this promising frame of mind they left their friendly haven and sailed away into an unknown world.



CHAPTER XXIV

FOR DEAR LOVE'S SAKE

He alone knows, Who wanders wide And has much experienced, By what disposition Each man is ruled Who common sense possesses. Ha'vama'l

The first night out was a moonless night, that shut down on the world of waters and blotted out even the clouds and the waves that been company for the solitary vessel. The little ship became a speck of light in a gulf of darkness, an atom of life floating in empty space. Under the tent roofs, by the light of flaring torches, the crew drank and sang and amused themselves with games; but beyond that circle, there was only blackness and emptiness and silence.

Sigurd gazed out over the vessel's side, with a yawn and a shiver combined. "It feels as though the air were full of ghosts, and we were the only living beings in the whole world," he muttered.

A tow-headed giant known as Long Lodin overheard him, and laughed noisily, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the deck where Leif's eagle face showed high above their heads.

"His luck could carry us safe through even the world of the dead," he reassured him.

But Rolf paused in his chess game to throw his friend a keen glance. "The Silver-Tongue has been one not apt to speak womanish words," he said, gravely. "Something there is on your mind which disturbs you, comrade."

Sigurd pulled himself together with an attempt at his usual careless laugh. "Is it your opinion that I am the only person who is thinking of ghosts to-night?" he parried. "Look yonder at Kark, how he fears to turn his back on the shadows, lest the Evil One overtake him! It is my belief that he would like it better to die than to venture into the dark of the foreroom."

Following his glance, they beheld the bowerman, leaning against the mast with a face as pale as a toadstool. When a sailor threw a piece of dried fish at him, he jumped as though he had been struck by a stone. Rolf's gentle smile expanded into a broad grin, and he let himself be turned thus easily from his object.

"Now that is true; I had not observed him before. He appears as if the goddess Ran already had hold of his feet to pull him down under the water. Let us have a little fun with him. I will send him to the foreroom on an errand."

Robert of Normandy set down his drinking-horn with a sharp motion, and Sigurd leaned forward hastily; but the Wrestler's soft voice was already speeding his command.

"Ho there, valiant Kark-with-the-white-cheeks! Get you into the foreroom and bring my bag of chess-men from the brass-bound box."

Kark heard the order without a motion except an angry scowl, and Sigurd drew back with something like a breath of relief. But Rolf made a sudden move as though to rise to his feet, and the effect was magical.

"I am going as soon as is necessary," the thrall growled. "You said nothing of being in haste." And he shuffled over to one of the torches to light a splinter in its flame, and pushed his way forward with dragging feet.

Sigurd and the Norman both sprang after him.

"I tell you, Rolf, I have something against this!" Sigurd stormed, as the Wrestler's iron hand closed upon his cloak. "My—my—my valuables are in the same chest. I will not have him pawing them over. Let me go, I say!" He managed to slide out of his cloak and dodge under Rolf's arm.

A spark of something very like anger kindled the Wrestler's usually mild eyes; he caught the Norman around the waist, as the latter tried to pass him, and swung him bodily into the air. For an instant it seemed possible that he might hurl him over the ship's side into the ocean. But he finally threw him lightly upon a pile of skin sleeping-bags, and turned and hastened after the jarl's son.

Guessing that some friendly squabble was in progress, the sailors made way for him good-humoredly, and he reached the forecastle only a moment behind Sigurd. Kark's taper was just disappearing among the shadows beneath the deck.

Before the pursuers could speak, the bowerman leaped back upon them with a shriek that cut the air.

"Ran is in there! I saw her hair hanging over a barrel. It was long and yellow. It is Ran herself! We shall drown—"

Sigurd Haraldsson dealt him a cuff that felled him like a log.

"The simpleton is not able to tell a piece of yellow fox-fur from a woman's hair," he said, contemptuously. "Since you are here, Rolf, hold the light for me, and I will get the chess-bag myself." He spoke loudly enough so that the men on the benches heard, laughed, and turned back to their amusements. Then he drew Rolf further into the room, laid a hand over his mouth, and pointed to the farthest comer, where barrels and piled-up bales made a screen half-way across the bow.

Hair long and yellow there was, as the simpleton had said; but it was not the vengeful Ran who looked out from under it. Tumbled and dishevelled, paling and flushing, short-kirtled and desperate-eyed, Helga the Fair stood before them.

"Behold how a prudent shield-maiden helps matters that are already in a snarl," the jarl's son said, dryly.

The Wrestler started back in consternation.

Helga dropped her eyes guiltily. "I cannot blame you for being angry," she murmured. "I have become a great hindrance to you."

"It is an unheard-of misfortune!" gasped Rolf. "In flying from Gilli you have broken the Norwegian law; and by causing Leif to aid you in your flight you have made him an accomplice. A bad result is certain."

Helga's head bent lower. Then suddenly she flung out her hands in passionate entreaty.

"Yet I could not help it, comrades! As I live, I could not help it! How could I have the heart to remain in safety, without knowing whether Alwin lived or died? How could I spend my days decking myself in fine clothes, while my best friend fought for his life? Was it to be expected that I could help coming?" She spoke softly, half-crouching in her hiding-place, but her heart was in every word.

Her judges could not stand against her. Rolf swore that she would have been unworthy the name of shield-maiden had she acted otherwise. And Sigurd pressed her hand with brotherly tenderness.

"You should know that I am not blaming you in earnest, my foster-sister, because I grumble a little when I cannot see my way out of the tangle." He bent over Kark to make sure that he was really as unconscious as he seemed; then he lowered his voice nervously. "What makes it a great mishap is that your presence doubles Alwin's risk, and because one can never be altogether sure to what lengths Eric's son will go,—even with one whom he loves as well as he loves you. If I could find some good way in which to break the news to him before he sees you,—"

Helga sprang out of her niche, and stood, straight and rigid, before them. "You shall not endanger yourself to shield me. You will feel it enough for what you have already done. The first burst of his anger I will bear myself, as is my right."

Before they had even guessed her intention, she slipped past them, leaped lightly over Kark's motionless body, and delivered herself into the light of the torches. In another instant, a roar of amazement and delight had gone up from the benches; and the men were dropping their games and knocking over their goblets to crowd around her.

"She has got out of her wits," Rolf said, wonderingly.

"He will kill her," Sigurd answered, between his teeth. "For half as much cause, Olaf Trygvasson struck a queen in the face."

They followed her aft, like men walking in a dream; but between the rings of broad shoulders they soon lost sight of her. All they could see was the Norman's dark face, as he stepped upon a bench and silently watched the approaching apparition.

"The Troll take him! If he cannot keep that look out of his eyes, why does he not shut them?" Sigurd muttered, irritably.

Perhaps it was that look which Helga encountered, as she made the last step that brought her face to face with the chief. At that moment, a great change came over her. When the guardsman pushed back to the extreme limits of his chair to regard her in a sort of incredulous horror, she did not fall at his feet as everyone expected her to, and as she herself had thought to do. Instead, she flung up her head with a spirit that sent the long locks flying. Even when anger began to distort his face,—anger headlong and terrible as Eric's,—her glance crossed his like a sword-blade.

"You need not look at me like that, kinsman," she said, fiercely. "It is your own fault for giving me into the power of a mean-minded brute,—you who brought me up to be a free Norse shield-maiden!"

If the planks of the deck had risen against them, the men could not have looked at each other more aghast. Her boldness seemed to paralyze even Leif. Or was it the grain of truth in the reproach that stayed him? He let moment after moment pass without replying. He sat plainly struggling to hold back his fury, gripping his chair-arms until the knuckles on his fists gleamed white.

After peering at him curiously for awhile, as though trying to divine his wishes, his shrewd old foster-father put aside the chess-board on which they had been playing, and hobbled over and laid a soothing hand on the girl's arm.

"Speak you of Gilli?" he inquired. "Tell to us how he has ill-treated you."

It was only very slightly that the pause had cooled Helga's valor.

"He has treated me like a horse that traders deck out in costly things, and parade up and down for men to see and offer money for," she answered hotly.

Though they knew Gilli's conduct was entirely within the law, and there was not a man there who might not have done the same thing, they all grunted contemptuously. Tyrker stroked his beard, with an-other sidelong glance at his foster-son, as he said, cautiously:

"So? Aber,—how have you managed it from him to escape?"

"Little was there to manage. As I told you, he loaded me with precious things; after which he left me to sit at home with his weak-minded wife, while he went on a trading voyage, as was his wont. A horse brought me to Nidaros; gold bought me a passage with Arnor Gunnarsson, and his ship brought me into Eric's Fiord."

Then, for the first time, Leif spoke. His words leaped out like wolves eager for a victim.

"Do not stop there! Tell how you passed from his ship into mine. Tell whom you found in Eric's Fiord who became a traitor for your gold."

She answered him bravely: "No one, kinsman. No one received so much as a ring from me. May the Giant take me if I lie! I swam the distance between the ships under the cover of darkness, and—"

His voice crashed through hers like a thunder-peal: "Who kept the watch on board, last night?"

Half a dozen men started in sudden consternation; but they were spared the peril of a reply, for Sigurd Haraldsson stepped out of the throng and stood at Helga's side.

"I kept the watch last night, foster-father," he said, quietly. "Let none of your men suffer in life or limb. It was I who received her on board, while it was the others' turn to sleep; and I alone who hid her in the foreroom."

Those who had hoped that Leif's love for his foster-son might outweigh his anger, gauged but poorly the force of the resentment he had been holding back. At this offer of a victim which it was free to accept, his anger could no more be restrained than an unchained torrent. It burst out in a stream of denunciation that bent Sigurd's handsome head and lashed the blood into his cheeks. Coward and traitor were the mildest of its reproaches; contempt and eternal displeasure were the least of its dooms. Though Helga besought with eyes and hands, the torrent thundered on with a fury that even the ire of Eric had never surpassed.

Only a lack of breath brought it finally to an end. The chief dashed himself back into his chair, and leaned there, panting and darting fiery glances from under his scowling brows,—now at Rolf and the Norman, now at Helga, and again at the motionless figure of Sigurd Haraldsson, silently awaiting his pleasure. When he spoke again, it was with the suddenness of a blow.

"Nor do I altogether believe that it was to escape from Gilli that she took this venture upon herself. By her own story, Gilli had gone away for the season and left her free. It is my opinion that it took something of more importance to steal the wits out of her."

Helga blanched. If he was going to pry into her motives, what might not the next words bring out? Under the Norman's silken tunic, an English heart leaped, and then stood still. There was a pause in which no one seemed to breathe. But the next words were as unexpected as the last.

Of a sudden, Leif started up with a gesture of impatience. "Have I nothing to think of besides your follies? Trouble me no longer with the sight of you. Tyrker, take the girl below and see to it that she is cared for." While the culprits stared at him, scarcely daring to credit their ears, he still further signified that the incident was closed, by turning his back upon them and inviting Robert Sans-Peur to take the German's place at the chess-board.

In a daze of bewilderment, Sigurd let Rolf lead him away. "What can he mean by such an ending?" he marvelled, as soon as it was safe to voice his thoughts. "How comes it that he will stop before he has found out her real motive? It cannot be that he will drop it thus. Did you not see the black look he gave me as I left?" He raised his eyes to Rolf's face, and drew back resentfully. "What are you smiling at?" he demanded.

"At your stupidity," Rolf laughed into his ear. "Do you not see that he believes he has found out her real motive?" As Sigurd continued to stare, the Wrestler shook him to arouse his slumbering faculties. "Simpleton! He thinks it was for love of you that Helga fled from Norway!"

"Nom du diable!" breathed Sigurd. Yet the longer he thought of it, the more clearly he saw it. By and by, he drew a breath of relief that ended in a laugh. "And he thinks to make me envious by putting my Norman friend before me! Do you see? He in-tends it as a punishment. By Saint Michael, it seems almost too amusing to be true!"



CHAPTER XXV

"WHERE NEVER MAN STOOD BEFORE"

Wit is needful To him who travels far: At home all is easy. Ha'vama'l

Four days of threading fog-thickets and ploughing over watery wastes, and the stanch little vessel pushed her way into sight of the first of the unknown lands. It towered up ahead like a storm-cloud, bleak and barren-looking as Greenland itself. From its inhospitable heights and glaciers gleaming coldly in the sunshine, they knew it at once for the last-seen land of Biorn's narrative.

"It looks to me like a good omen that we are to begin where Biorn left off," Rolf observed to one of the men engaged in lowering the ship's boat.

The fellow was a stalwart Icelander who had every current superstition at his tongue's end, and was even accredited with the gift of second sight. He hunched his shoulders sceptically, as he bent over the ropes.

"It is my opinion that good omens have little to do with this land," he returned. "It bears every resemblance to the Giant Country which Thor visited."

"I believe it is Helheim itself," quavered Kark.

The Wrestler glanced at the thrall's blanching cheeks and laughed a long soft laugh. Such a display was one of the few things that moved him to mirth. Suddenly he caught up the bowerman as one picks up a kitten, and, leaning out over the side, dropped him sprawling into the long-boat.

"Here, then, is your chance to enter the world of the dead in good company," he laughed. He stood guard over the gunwale until Leif and the other ten men of the boat's crew were ready to go down; pounding the poor wretch's fingers when he attempted to climb back, while a row of grinning faces mocked him over the side.

The unpromising aspect of the shore did not lessen as the explorers approached it. If they had not made an easy landing, on a gravelly strip between two rocky points, they would have felt that their labor had been wasted. From the sea to the ice-tipped mountains there stretched a plain of nothing but broad flat stones. They looked in vain for any signs of life. Not a tree nor a shrub, nor even so much as a grass-blade, relieved the dead emptiness. When they caught sight of a fox, whisking from one rocky den to another, it startled them into crossing themselves.

"It is over such wastes as this that the dead like to call to each other," Valbrand muttered in his heard.

And his neighbor mumbled uneasily, "I think it likely that this is one of the plains on which the Women who Ride at Night hold their meetings. If it were not for the Lucky One's luck, I would prefer swallowing hot irons to coming here."

Then both became silent, for Leif had faced about and was awaiting their full attention before announcing the next move. "I dislike to see brave men disgrace their beards with bondmaids' gabble," he said sternly. "Fix in your minds the shame that was spoken of Biorn Herjulfsson because of his lack of enterprise. The same shall not be said of us. Rolf Erlingsson and Ottar the Red and three others shall follow me; and we will walk inland until the light has entirely faded from the highest mountain peak yonder, and the next point below is yellow as a golden fir-cone. The others of you shall follow Valbrand for the same length of time, but walk southward along the shore, since it may be that something of interest is hidden behind these points—"

A howl from Kark interrupted him. "I will not go! By Thor, I will not go! Spirits are hidden behind those points. Who knows what would jump out at us? I will not stir away from the Lucky One. I will not! I will not!" Gibbering with terror, he clutched Leif's cloak and clung there like a cat.

For a moment the chief hesitated, looking down at him with disgust unutterable. Then he quietly loosened the golden clasp on his shoulder, flung the mantle off with a sweep that sent the thrall staggering backward, and marched away at the head of his men.

Valbrand had handled rebellious slaves before.

Shaking the fellow until he no longer had any breath to howl with, the steersman said briefly, "It is very unlikely that we shall see any ghosts, but it is altogether certain that your hide will feel my belt if you do not end this fuss."

Kark made his choice with admirable swiftness. He got what comfort he could, poor wretch, out of a carefully selected position. As between two shields, he crept between the mystic Icelander and the dauntless Norman warrior. Valbrand led the way, his flint face set to withstand the Devil and all his angels; and three strapping Swedes brought up the rear, with drawn swords and thumping hearts.

If only the way could have lain straight and open before them, even though it bristled with beasts and foes! But for the whole distance it screwed itself into a succession of crescent-shaped beaches, each one lying between rocky spurs of the beetling crags.

Each point they rounded disclosed nothing more alarming than lichened boulders and pebbly shore, with here a dead fish, and there a heap of shining snaky kelp, and yonder a flock of startled gulls,—but who could tell what the next projection might be hiding? They walked with their fists gripped hard around their weapons, their eyes shifting, their ears strained, while the waves hissed around their feet and the gulls screamed over their heads.

Slowly the light faded from the mountain top and lay upon the next peak, a golden cone against the blue. At last, even Valbrand's sense of duty was satisfied. "We will turn back now," he announced, halting them. "But first I will climb up the cliff, here where it is lowest, and try to see a little way ahead, that we may have as much news as possible to report to the chief."

As he spoke, he gave a great spring upward on to a shelving ledge, and pulled himself up to the next projection; a rattling shower of sand and pebbles continued to mark his ascent. Robert the Fearless walked on to look around the rock they had almost reached; but the rest remained where they were, following their leader's movements with anxious eyes.

They were so intent that they jumped like startled horses at an exclamation from the Icelander. He was pointing to the strip of beach which lay between Kark and the Norman.

"Look there!" he cried. "Look there!"

Their alarm was in no way diminished when they had looked and seen that the space was empty. The cold drops came out on their bodies, and the hair rose on their heads.

Robert of Normandy, who had caught the cry but not the words, came walking back, inquiring the cause of the excitement; and at that the Icelander cried out louder than before:

"Have a care where you go! Do you not see it? You will get blood upon your fine cloak. It is at your feet."

In blank amazement, the Norman stared first at the ground and then at the seer.

"Have the wits been stolen out of you? There is not even so much as a devil-fish where you are pointing."

The Icelander took off his cap, and commenced wiping the great beads from his forehead. "You begin to listen after the song is sung," he answered, peevishly. "The thing ran away as soon as you approached. It was a fox that was bloody all over."

A yell of terror distended Kark's throat.

"A fox!" he screeched. "My guardian spirit follows me in that shape; a foreknowing woman told me so. It is my death-omen! I am death-fated!" His knees gave way under him so that he sank to the ground and cowered there, wringing his hands.

The Icelander shot a look of triumph at the sceptical stranger. "They have no call to hold their chins high who hear of strange wonders for the first time," he said, severely. "It is as certain that men have guardian spirits as that they have bodies. Yours, Robert of Normandy, goes doubtless in the shape of a wolf because of your warrior nature; and I advise you now, that when you see a bloody wolf before you it will be time for you to draw on your Hel-shoes. The animal ran nearest the thrall—"

Kark's lamentations merged into a shriek of hope. "That is untrue! It lay at the Norman's feet; you told him so!"

While the seer turned to look rather resentfully at him, he climbed up this slender life-line, like a man whom sharks are pursuing.

"It was not a fox that you saw, at all; it was a wolf! So excited were you that your eyes were deceitful. It was a wolf, and it was nearest the Norman. A blind man could see what that means."

The Icelander pulled off his cap again, but this time it was to scratch his head doubtfully. "It was when the stranger approached it, that it was nearest to him," he persisted. "While this may signify that he will seek death, I am unable to say that it proves that he will overtake it. Yet I will not swear that it was not a wolf. The sun was in my eyes—"

Robert the Fearless burst into a scornful laugh. "Oh, call it a wolf, and let us end this talk!" he said, contemptuously. "I shall not die until my death-day comes, though you see a pack of them. Call it a wolf, craven serf, if that will stay your tongue."

There was no chance for more, for at that moment Valbrand joined them. "There is naught to be seen which is different from what we have already experienced," he said shortly; and they began the return march.

They reached the landing-place first; but it was not long before the heads of their companions appeared above a rocky ridge. This party, it was evident, had had better sport. Several men carried hats filled with sea-birds' eggs. Another explorer had under his arm a fat little bear cub that he had picked up somewhere. Rolf's deftness at stone-throwing had secured him a bushy yellow fox-tail for a trophy.

The party had gone inland far enough to discover that creeping bushes grew on the hills, and rushes on the bogs; that it was an island, as Biorn had stated, and that forests equal in size to those of Greenland grew in sheltered places. But they had seen nothing to alter their unflattering first opinion. Vikings though they were, warriors who would have been flayed alive without flinching, relief was manifest on every face when the leader finally gave the word to embark.

Probably it was because he understood the danger of pushing their fidelity too far, that the chief gave the order to return so soon. For his own part, he did not seem to be entirely satisfied. With one foot on the stern of the boat, and one still on the rocks, he lingered uncertainly.

"Yet we have not acted with this land like Biorn, who did not come ashore," he muttered. Rolf displayed the fox-tall with a flourish.

"We have accomplished more than Eric after he had been in Greenland an equally short time, chief. We have taken tribute from the inhabitants." Leif deigned to smile slightly. He stepped into his place, and from the stern he swept a long critical look over the barren coast,—from the fox-dens up to the high-peaked mountains, and back again to the sea.

"We will give as well as take," he said at last. "I will give a name to the land, and call it Helluland, for it is indeed an icy plain."

They were welcomed on board with a hubbub of curiosity. Almost every article of value upon the ship was offered in exchange for the cub and the fox-tail. The uncanny accounts of the place were swallowed with open-mouthed greediness; so greedily that it was little wonder that at each repetition the narratives grew longer and fuller. Told by torchlight, at a safe distance from Leif, each boulder took on the form of a squatting dwarf; and the faint squeaking of foxes became the shrieking of spirits. The tale of the death-omen swelled to such proportions that Kark would have been terrified out of his wits if he had not rested secure in the conviction that the vision had been a wolf. The explorers who had gotten little pleasure out of their adventure at the time of its occurrence, came to regard it as their most precious possession. The fire of exploration waxed hot in every vein. Every man constituted himself a special look-out to watch for any dawning speck upon the horizon.

With Fortune's fondness for surprising mankind, the next of the "wonder-shores" crept upon them in the night. The sun, which had set upon an empty ocean, rose upon a low level coast lying less than twenty miles away. In the glowing light, bluffs of sand shone like cliffs of molten silver; and more trees were massed upon one point than the whole of Greenland had ever produced. Even Leif was moved to exclaim at the sight.

"Certainly this is a land which names itself!" he declared. "You need not wait long for what I shall fix upon. It shall be called Markland, after its woods."

Sigurd's enthusiasm mounted to rashness. "I will have a share in this landing, if I have to plead with Leif for the privilege," he vowed. And when, for the second time, Rolf was told off for a place in the boat, and for the second time his claims were slighted, he was as reckless as his word.

"Has not my credit improved at ail, after all this time, foster-father?" he demanded, waylaying the chief on his descent from the forecastle. "I ask you to consider the shame it will bring upon me if I am obliged to return to Norway without having so much as set foot upon the new-found lands."

For awhile Leif's gaze rested upon him absently, as though the press of other matters had entirely swept him out of mind. Presently, however, his brows began to knit themselves above his hawk nose.

"Tell those who ask, that you were kept on board because a strong-minded and faithful watchman was needed there," he answered curtly, and turned his back upon him.

Robert the Fearless was standing at the side, gazing eagerly toward the shore. As though suddenly reminded of his existence, the chief stopped behind him and touched him on the shoulder.

"The Norman is as much too modest as his friend is too bold," he said, with a note of his occasional courtliness. "A man who has thought it worth while to travel so far is certainly entitled to a share in every experience. Let Robert Sans-Peur go down and take the place that is his right."

As the boat bounded away with the Fearless One on the last bench, Sigurd's face was a study. Between mortification and amusement, it was so convulsed that Rolf, who shared the Norman's seat, could not restrain his soft laughter.

"Whether or not the Silver-Tongued has given his luck to you, it is seen that he has none left for himself," he laughed into his companion's ear.

The Norman bent to his oar with a petulant force that drove it deep into the water and far out of stroke.

"Whether or not he has any left for himself, it is certain that he has given none of it to me," he muttered. "Here are we at our second landing, and no chance have I had yet to endanger my life for the chief. Nor do I see any reason for expecting favorable prospects in this tame-appearing land. Is it of any use to hope for wild beasts here?"

The Wrestler regarded him over his shoulder with amused eyes. "Is it your opinion that Leif Ericsson needs your protection against wild beasts?" he inquired.

Under the Norman's swarthy complexion, Alwin of England suddenly flushed. When a wish is rooted in one's very heart, it is difficult to get far enough away to see it in its true proportions.

The cliffs of gleaming silver faded, on the boat's approach, into gullied bluffs of weather-beaten sand; but the white beach that met the water, and the green thickets that covered the heights, remained fair and inviting. No fear of dark omens along that shining sand; no danger of evil spirits in that sunlit wood. All was pure and bright and fresh from the hand of God. In place of a spur, the explorers needed a rein,—and a tight one. But for the chief's authority, they would have spread themselves over the place like birds'-nesting boys.

"Ye know no more moderation than swine," Leif said sternly, checking their rush to obey the beckoning of the myriad of leafy hands. "And ye are as witless as children, besides. Have ye not learned yet that cold steel often lies hid under a fair tunic? We will divide into two bands, as we did at our first landing; and I forbid that any man shall separate himself from his party, for any reason whatsoever."

Then he proceeded to single out those who were to follow him; and to the great joy of Robert of Normandy, he was included in that favored number.

Valbrand's men crashed away through bush and bramble; and the chief's following threw themselves, like jubilant swimmers, into the sea of undergrowth. Now, waist-high in thorny bushes, they tore their way through by sheer force of strength. Now they stepped high over a network of low-lying vines, ankle-bonds tougher than walrus hide. Again, imitating the four-footed pioneer that had worn the faint approach to a trail, they crawled on their hands and knees. Every nest they chanced upon, and each berry bush, paid a heavy toll; but they gave the briers a liberal return in the way of cloth and hair and flesh.

"I think it likely that I could retrace my steps by no other means than the hair that I have left on the thorns," Eyvind the Icelander observed ruefully, when at last they had paused to draw breath in one of the few open spaces.

The Fearless One overheard him and laughed. "When I found that my locks were liable to be pulled off my head entirely, I disposed of them in this manner," he said. He was leaning forward from his seat on a fallen oak to shew how his black curls were tucked snugly inside his collar, when a shriek of pain from the thicket behind them brought every man to his feet.

The chief ran his eye over the little group. "It is Lodin that is missing," he said. "Probably he lingered at those last berry bushes." Knife in hand, he plunged into the jungle.

While a rustling green curtain still hid the tragedy, the rescuers learned the nature of their companion's peril; for suddenly, above the cries for help and the crash of trampled brush, there rose the roar of an infuriated bear.

Alwin's heart leaped in his breast, and his nostrils widened with such a fierce joy as won him the undying respect of the sportsmen around him. Pushing past his comrades, he tore his way through the tangle of twining willowy arms and gained the side of the chief.

Leif pushed aside the last overhanging bough, and the conflict was before them.

Locked in the embrace of as big a bear as it had ever been their luck to see, stood Lodin the Berry-Eater. That the beast had come upon him from the rear was evident, for the chisel-like claws of one huge paw had torn mantle and tunic and flesh into ribbons; but in some way the Viking must have managed to turn and grapple with his foe, for now his distorted face was close to the dripping jaws. Two bloody mangled spots upon either arm showed where the brute's teeth had been; but if the bear's paws were gripping the man's shoulders, still the man's hands were locked about the bear's ears. That the pair had been down once, leaves and dirt in hair and fur were witness; and now they went down again, ploughing up the earth, screaming and panting, growling and roaring; one of the brute's hind legs drawing up and striking down in a motion of terrible meaning.

It was too ghastly a thing to watch inactive. Already every man's knife was in his hand, and three men were crouching for a spring, when the chief swept them back with a stern gesture.

"Attacking thus, you can reach no vital part," he reminded them. And he shouted to the struggling man, "Feign death! you can do nothing without your weapon. Feign death."

It appeared to Alwin that to do this would require greater courage than to struggle; but while the words were still in the air, the man obeyed. His hands relaxed their hold; his head fell backward on the ground; and he lay under the shaggy body like a dead thing. The black muzzle poked curiously about his face, but he did not stir.

After a suspicious sniff, the victor appeared to accept the truth of his conquest. Exactly as though he said, "Come! Here is one good job done; what next?" he got up with a grunt, and, rising to his hind feet, stood growling and rolling his fiery little eyes from one to another of the intruders in the brush.

"If now one could only hurl a spear at his heart!" murmured the sailor at Alwin's shoulder. But the difficulties of path-finding through an unbroken thicket had kept the men from cumbering themselves with weapons so unwieldy.

Leif spoke up quickly, "There is no way but to trust to our knives. Since I am superior to any in strength, I will grapple with him first. If I fail, which I do not expect, I will preserve my life as Lodin is doing; and the Fearless One here shall take his turn."

Alwin was too wild with delight to remember any-thing else. "For that, I thank you as for a crown!" he gasped.

Even as he stepped out to meet the foe, Leif smiled ironically. "Certainly you are better called the Fearless than the Courteous," he said. "It would have been no more than polite for you to have wished me luck."

Anything further was drowned in the bear's roar, as he took a swift waddling step forward and threw out his terrible paws. Even Leif's huge frame could not withstand the shock of the meeting. His left hand caught the beast by the throat and, with sinews of iron, held off his foaming jaws; but the shock of the grappling lost him his footing. They fell, clenched, and rolled over and over on the ground; those terrible hind feet drawing up and striking down with surer and surer aim.

Alwin could endure it no longer. "Let me have him now!" he implored. "It is time to leave him to me. The next stroke, he will tear you to pieces. I claim my turn."

It is doubtful if anyone heard him: at that moment, swaying and staggering, the wrestlers got to their feet. In rising, Leif's hold on the bear's throat slipped and the shaggy head shot sideways and fastened its jaws on his naked arm, with a horrible snarling sound. But at the same moment, the man's right arm, knife in hand, shot toward the mark it had been seeking. Into the exposed body it drove the blade up to its hilt, then swerved to the left and went upward. The stroke which the chisel-shod paws had tried for in vain, the little strip of steel achieved. A roar that echoed and re-echoed between the low hills, a convulsive movement of the mighty limbs, and then the beast's muscles relaxed, stiffening while they straightened; and the huge body swayed backward, dead.

From the chief came much the same kind of a grunt as had come from the bear at the fall of his foe. Glancing with only a kind of contemptuous curiosity at his wounded arm, he stepped quickly to the side of his prostrate follower and bent over him.

"You have got what you deserve for breaking my orders," he said, grimly. "Yet turn over that I may attend to your wounds before you bleed to death."

In the activity which followed, Robert of Normandy took no part. He leaned against a tree with his arms folded upon his breast, his eyes upon the slain bear which half of the party were hastily converting into steaks and hide. The men muttered to each other that the Southerner was in a rage because he had lost his chance, but that was only a part of the truth. His fixed eyes no longer saw the bear; his ears were deaf to the voices around him. He saw again a shadowy room, lit by leaping flames and shifting eyes; and once more a lisping voice hissed its "jargon" into his ear.

"I see Leif Ericsson standing upon earth where never man stood before; and I see you standing by his side, though you do not look as you look now, for your hair is long and black... I see that it is in this new land that it will be settled whether your luck is to be good or bad..."

He said slowly to himself, like a man talking in his sleep, "It has been settled, and it is to be bad."

Then the room passed from his vision. He saw in its place Rolf's derisive smile, and heard again his mocking query: "Is it your opinion that Leif Ericsson needs your protection against wild beasts?"

Of a sudden he flung back his head and burst into a loud laugh that jarred on the ear like grating steel.

When at last Lodin's wounds were dressed so that he could be helped along between two of his comrades, the party began a slow return. By the time they came out on to the shining white beach again, they were a battered-looking lot. There was not a mantle among them but what hung in tatters, nor a scratched face that did not mingle blood with berry juice. But at their head, the huge bear skin was borne like a captured banner. At the sight of it, their waiting comrades burst into shouts of admiration and envy that reached as far as the anchored ship.

"Never was such sport heard of!"—"A better land is nowhere to be found!" they clamored. "In one month we could secure enough skins to make us wealthy for the rest of our lives!"

And then some muttered asides were added: "It is a great pity to leave such a place."—"It is folly to give up certain wealth for vague possibilities." And though the dissatisfaction rose no louder than a murmur, it spread on every hand like fire in brush.

Now there was one man among the explorers who had been a member of Biorn Herjulfsson's crew, and was brimful of conceit and the ambition to be a leader among his fellows. When the command to embark swelled the murmurs almost to an outspoken grumbling, he thought he saw a chance to push into prominence, and swaggered boldly forward.

"If it is not your intention to come back and profit by this discovery, chief, I must tell you that we will not willingly return to the ship. Certainly not until we have secured at least one bear apiece. We are free men, Leif Ericsson, and it is not to our minds to be led altogether by the—"

Whether or not he had meant to say "nose," no one ever knew. At that moment the chief wheeled and looked at him, with a glance so different from Biorn Herjulfsson's mild gaze that the word stuck in the fellow's throat, and instinctively he leaped backward.

Leif turned from him disdainfully, and addressed the men of his old crew. "Ye are free men," he said; "but I am the chief to whom, of your own free wills, you have sworn allegiance on the edge of your swords. Do you think it improves your honor that a stranger should dare to insult your chosen leader in your presence?"

"No!" bellowed Valbrand, in a voice of thunder.

And Lodin shook his wounded arm at the mutineer. "If my hand could close over a sword, I would split you open with it," he cried.

The other men's slumbering pride awoke. Loyalty seldom took more than cat-naps in those days, in spite of all the hard work that was put upon her.

"Duck him!"—"Souse him!"—"Dip him in the ocean!" they shouted. And so energetically that the ringleader, cursing the fickleness of rebels, found it all at once advisable to whip out his sword and fall into a posture of defence.

But again Leif's hand was stretched forth.

"Let him be," he said. "He is a stranger among us, and your own words are responsible for his mistake. Let him be, and show your loyalty to your leader by carrying out his orders with no more unseemly delay."

They obeyed him silently, if reluctantly; and it was not long before those who had remained on ship-board were thrown into a second fever of envious excitement.

They were not pleasant, however, the days that followed. In the flesh of those who had missed the sport, the bear-fight was as a rankling thorn. The watches, during which a northeast gale kept them scudding through empty seas with little to do and much time to gossip, were golden hours for the growth of the serpent of discontent. Though the creature did not dare to strike again, its hiss could be heard in the distance, and the gleam of its fangs showed in dark corners. If Leif had had Biorn's bad fortune, to begin at the wrong end of his journey, so that a barren Helluland was the climax that now lay before him, the hidden snake might have swelled, like Thora Borga Hiort's serpent-pet, into a devastating dragon.

Was it not Leif's luck that the land which was revealed to them, on the third morning, should be as much fairer than their vaunted Markland as that spot was pleasanter than Greenland's wastes?—a land where, as the old books tell, vines grew wild upon the hills, and wheat upon the plains; where the rivers teemed with fish, and the thickets rustled with game, and the islands were covered with innumerable wild fowl; where even the dew upon the grass was honey-sweet!

As they gazed upon the blooming banks and woods and low hills, warm and green with sunlight, cries of admiration burst from every throat.

Valbrand made bold to warn his chief, "Though I do not dispute your will in this, any more than in anything else, I will say that difficulties are to be expected if men are to be parted from such a land without at least tasting of its good things."

Even for those who had been longest with him, the Lucky One was full of surprises.

"It has never been my intention to continue sailing after we had accomplished the three landings," he answered quietly. "Ungrateful to God would we be, were we to fail in showing honor to the good things He has led us to. I expect to stay over winter in this place."



CHAPTER XXVI

VINLAND THE GOOD

"... They sailed toward this land, and came to an island lying north of it, and went ashore in fine weather and looked round. They found dew on the grass, and touched it with their hands, and put it to their mouths, and it seemed to them that they had never tasted anything so sweet as this dew. Then they went on hoard and sailed into the channel, which was between the island and the cape which ran north from the mainland. They passed the cape, sailing in a westerly direction. There the water was very shallow, and their ship went aground, and at ebb-tide the sea was far out from the ship. But they were so anxious to get ashore that they could not wait till the high-water reached their ship, and ran out on the beach where a river flowed from a lake. When the high-water set their ship afloat they took their boat and rowed to the ship and towed it up the river into the lake. There they cast anchor, and took their leather-bags ashore, and there built booths."—FLATEYJARBO'K.

It was October, and it was the new camp, and it was Helga the Fair tripping across the green background with a skirtful of red and yellow thorn-berries and a wreath of fiery autumn leaves upon her sunny head.

Where a tongue of land ran out between a lake-like bay and a river that hurried down to throw herself into its arms, there lay the new settlement. Facing seaward, the five newly-built huts stood on the edge of a grove that crowned the river bluffs. Behind them stretched some hundred yards of wooded highland, ending in a steep descent to the river, which served as a sort of back stairway to the stronghold. Before them, green plains and sandy flats sloped away to the white shore of the bay that rocked their anchored ship upon its bosom. Over their lowly roofs, stately oaks and elms and maples murmured ceaseless lullabies,—like women long-childless, granted after a weary waiting the listening ears to be soothed by their crooning.

"I have a feeling that this land has always been watching for us; and that now that we are come, it is glad," Helga said, happily, as she paused where the jarl's son leaned in a doorway, watching Kark's cook-fires leap and wave their arms of blue smoke. "Is it not a wonderful thought, Sigurd, that it was in God's mind so long ago that we should some day want to come here?"

"It is a fair land," Sigurd agreed, absently. And then for the first time Helga noticed the frown on his face, and some of the brightness faded from her own.

"Alas, comrade, you are brooding over the disfavor I have brought upon you!" she said, laying an affectionate hand upon his arm. "I act in a thoughtless way when I forget it."

Sigurd made a good-natured attempt to arouse himself. "Do not let that trouble you, ma mie," he said, lightly. "When ill luck has it in her mind to reach a man, she will come in through a window if the door be closed. It is a matter of little importance."

He patted the hand on his arm and his smile became even mischievous. "Still, I will not say anything against it if you wish to pay some forfeit," he added. "See,—yonder Leif sits, playing with the bear cub while he waits for his breakfast. Now, as he turns his eyes upon us, do you reach up and give me such an affectionate kiss as shall convince him forever that it was for love of me that you fled from Norway."

A vigorous box on the ear was his answer; yet even before her cheeks cooled, Helga relented and turned back.

"Even your French foolishness I will overlook, for the sake of the misfortune I have been to you. Take now a handful of these berries, and make the excuse that you wish to give them to the bear. While you do so, speak to Leif strongly and tell him your wish. That he is playing with the cub is a sign that he is in a good humor."

Sigurd's eyes wandered wistfully beyond the cook-fires and the storehouses to the last hut in the line, before which a dozen men were buckling on cloaks and arming themselves, in a bustle of joyful anticipation. He thrust out his palm with sudden resolve.

"By Saint Michael, I will! I had sworn that I would never entreat his leave again, but this time there is no one near enough to witness my shame if he refuses me. There—that is sufficient! It is needful that I make haste: yonder come Eyvind and Odd with the fish; Kark will not be long in cooking it."

Carefully careless, he strolled past the open shed in which the new-found wheat was being stored, past the sleeping-house and a group of fellows mending nets, and came to the great maple-tree under which a rough bench had been placed. There, like a Giant Thrym and his greyhounds, Leif sat stroking his mustache thoughtfully, while with his free hand he tousled the head of the camp pet.

Scenting dainties, the bear deserted his friend and shambled forward to meet the newcomer. The chief raised his eyes and regarded his foster-son over his hand, seemingly with less sternness than usual. Yet he did not look to be so blinded by good-nature that he would be unable to see through manoeuvring. Sigurd decided to strike straight from the shoulder.

The cub, finding that the treat was not to be had in one delicious gulp, rose upon his haunches and threw open his jaws invitingly. While he tossed the berries, one by one, between the white teeth, Sigurd spoke his mind.

"It is two weeks now, foster-father, since the winter booths were finished and you began the practice of sending out exploring parties. In all those days you have but once permitted me to share the sport. I ask you to tell me how long I shall have to endure this?"

It appeared that the hand which stroked the chief's mustache also hid a dry smile.

"You grasp your weapon by the wrong end, foster-son," he retorted. "You forget that each time I have chosen an exploring party to go out, I have also chosen a party to remain at home and guard the goods. How is it possible that I could spare from their number a man who has shown himself so superior in good sense and firm-mindedness—"

Sigurd's foot came down in an unmistakable stamp; and the remaining berries were crushed in his clenching fist.

"Enough jests have been strung on that thread! I have submitted to you patiently because it appeared to me that your anger was not without cause, yet it is no more than just for you to remember that I was helpless in the matter. Since the girl was already so far, it would have been dastardly for me to have refused her aid. It is not as though I had enticed her from Norway—"

A confusing recollection brought him suddenly to a halt, the blood tingling in his cheeks. He knew that the eyes above the brown hand had become piercing, but there were many reasons why he did not care to meet them. After a moment's hesitation, he frankly abandoned that tack and tried a new one. Dropping on one knee to wipe his berry-stained hand in the grass, he looked up with his gay smile. "There is yet another reason why you should allow me my way, foster-father. Upon the one occasion when I did accompany the party, the discovery was made of those fields of self-sown wheat which you prize so highly. Since then I have remained at home, and nothing of value has come to light. Who knows what you might not find this time, if you would but take my luck along with you?"

Leif pushed the cub aside and rose to his feet, the strengthening savor of broiled salmon announcing the imminent approach of the morning meal.

"Although I cannot say that I consider that an argument which would win you a case before a law-man," he observed, "yet I will not be so stark as to punish you further. Take your chance with the rovers if you will; though it is not likely that you will have time both to eat your food and to make yourself ready."

Sigurd was already gone on a bound.

"It will not take me long to choose between the two," he called back joyously, over his shoulder.

While the rest feasted noisily at the long table before the provision sheds, the Silver-Tongued hurried between sleeping house and store-room, rummaging out his heaviest boots, his stoutest tunic, his oldest mantle. At the last moment, the edge on his knife was found to be unsatisfactory, and he went and sat down by one of the cook-fires and fell to work with a sharpening stone.

On the other side of the fire Kark sat cross-legged upon the ground, skinning rabbits from a heap that had just been brought in by the trappers. He looked up with an impudent grin.

"It is a good thing if your fortunes have mended at last, Sigurd Jarlsson. It did not appear that the Norman brought you much luck in return for your support." He glanced toward that part of the table where the black locks of Robert the Fearless shone, sleek as a blackbird's wing, in the morning sun. "The Southerner has an overbearing face," he added. "It reminds me of someone I hate, though I cannot think who."

Sigurd's fiery impulse to cuff him was cooled by a sudden frost. He said as carelessly as possible: "You are a churlish fool; but it is likely you have seen Robert Sans-Peur in Nidaros. He was there shortly before we came away."

The thrall assented with a nod, but his interest seemed to have taken another turn, for after a while he said absently: "You will call me fool again when I tell you who the Norman made me think of at first. No other than that pig-headed English thrall that Leif killed last winter,—if it were not that one is black and the other was white, and one is living and the other dead."

He commenced to grin over his work, a veritable image of malice, quite unconscious that Sigurd's eyes were blazing down upon his head. By and by he broke into a discordant roar.

"Too great fun is it to keep silent over! What can it matter, now that Hot-Head is dead? Ah, that was a fine revenge!" He squinted boldly up into Sigurd's face, though he did not raise his voice to be heard beyond. "Did you know that it was not Thorhall the steward who found the knife that betrayed the English-man? Did you dream of that, Jarl's son? Did you know that it was I who followed you out of the hall that night, and listened to you from the shadows, and followed your trail the next sunrise, until I came upon the knife at Skroppa's very door? You never suspected that, Jarl's son. I was too cunning to let you put your teeth into me. Thorhall you could do no harm—"

"Wretched spy! Do you boast of your deed?" the young Viking interrupted hotly. "What is to hinder my biting now?" He had leaped the flames, and his hand was on the other's throat before he finished speaking.

But the thrall fought him off with unusual boldness.

"It is unadvisable for you to injure Leif's property, Sigurd Haraldsson," he panted. "My life is of value to him now. You are not yet out of disgrace. It would be unadvisable for you to offend him again."

However contemptible its present mouthpiece, that was the truth. Sigurd paused, even while his fingers twitched with passion. While he hesitated, a shout of summons from Valbrand decided the matter. Loosening his hold, the young warrior vented his rage in one savage kick and hastened to join his comrades.

Twelve brawny Vikings with twelve short swords at their sides and twelve long knives in their belts, they stood forth, headed by Valbrand of the Flint-Face and—by Tyrker! The little German had left off the longest of his fur tunics; a very long knife indeed garnished his waist, and he used a spear for a staff. Yet none of these preparations made him appear very formidable. Sigurd stared at him in amazement.

"Tyrker! My eyes cannot believe that you have the intention to undertake such a march! Before a hundred steps, it will become such an exertion to you that you will lie down upon a rock in a swoon."

The old man blinked at him with his little twinkling eyes.

"So?" he said, chuckling. "Then will we a bargain together make; for me shall you be legs, while I be brains for you. Then shall we neither be left behind for wild beasts to eat, nor yet shall our wits like beer-foam off-blown be, if so it happens that a beautiful maiden crosses our path."

Sigurd swore an unholy French oath, as the laughter arose. Would those jests never grow stale on their tongues? he wondered. He sent a half-resentful glance to where Robert Sans-Peur stood, calm and lofty, watching the departure. Whatever else threatened Alwin of England, he had none of this nonsense to endure. Over his shoulder, as he marched away, the Silver-Tongued made a sly face at his friend.

The Norman caught the grimace, but no answering smile curved the bitter line of his lips. Smiles had been strangers to his gaunt dark face for many weeks now.

The sailors said of him, "Since the Southerner lost his chance at the bear, he has had the appearance of a man who has lost his hope of Heaven."

When the noise of the departing explorers sank into the distance, Robert Sans-Peur strolled away from the busy groups and stretched himself in the shade of a certain old elm-tree. The chief stripped off his mantle and upper tunic, and betook himself to the woods with an axe over his shoulder. The hammers of the carpenters made merry music as they built the bunks in the new sleeping-house. Out in the sunshine, fishers and trappers came and went; harvesters staggered in under golden sheaves; and a group of bathers shouted and splashed in the lake. But the Norman neither saw nor heard anything of the pleasant stir. Through the long golden hours he lay without sound or motion, staring absently at the green turf and the dying leaves that floated down to him with every breeze.