Havelok The Dane (page 4)

one likes of that. At least the threat of the dungeon was no idle one.

Now went Havelok from the hall very heavy and troubled, for beyond the fair talk of the king lurked surely some plan that was not fair at all. It was not to be thought that he could not prevent, if he chose, a foolish marriage of the princess, even did she desire it ever so much. And my brother could not believe that she had set her heart on one whom she had but seen once, and then in the midst of faintness. That, however, might be known easily when he was face to face with her. It was a thing that could not be made a matter of pretence.

Now when he came back to the great kitchen, which was nigh as big as the hall, Withelm was yet there, for the priest was at the widow’s, and there was no haste to bring him; and by that time I had come in also, and was sitting with him at the far end, where none had need to come. It was Berthun’s own end, as one might say, and he was lord in his own place. Only a few thralls were about, and the cook himself had gone into the town.

“Here is our brother,” I said, “and there is somewhat wrong.”

He came moodily up to us, and sat him down, saying nothing, and he leaned his head on his hands for a while.

“What is amiss, brother?” said Withelm.

“Wait,” he answered. “I will think before I speak.”

I could see that this was not the old puzzlement, but something new and heavy, so we held our peace. Long was he before he moved or spoke, and when he did so it was wearily.

“Well knew I that somewhat was to happen to me in this town, even as I told you, brother, when we first passed its gates. And now it seems to be coming to pass. For this is what is on me, as it seems to me– either that I must see the light of day no more, or must live to be a scorn and sorrow to one for whom it were meet that a man should die.”

“Surely the black dream is on you, my brother! Neither of these things can be for you!” I cried.

“Would that it were the dream, for that is not all of sorrow, and that also is of things so long past that they are forgotten. I can bear that, for your voice always drives it away. But now the hand of Alsi the king is on me for some ill of his own–“

“Stay,” said Withelm. “Let us go out and speak, if that name is to be heard. It were safer.”

“Less safe, brother,” answered Havelok. “At once we should be kept apart. Listen, and I will tell you all, and then say your say.”

Then he told us, word for word, all that had just passed between him and the king. And as we listened, it grew on us that here was no wrong to the princess, but rather the beginning of honour. I could see the downfall that was in store for Alsi, and I thought also that I saw hope for the winning back of the Danish kingdom, with an East Anglian host to back us. And this also saw Withelm, and his eyes sparkled. But Havelok knew not yet all that had grown so plain to us.

He ended, and we said nothing for a moment.

“Well?” he said, not looking up, but with eyes that sought the floor, as if ashamed.

“By Odin,” said I, speaking the thought that was uppermost, “here will be a downfall for Alsi!”

“Ay, you are right, brother. I will not wed her.”

But that was by no means what I meant, as may be known; and now Withelm held up a warning hand to me, and I knew that his advice was always best.

“If the maiden is unwilling, wed her not,” he said. “If she is willing, even as the king said, that is another matter. We have no reason to doubt his word as yet.”

“You saw not his face as he spoke. And then, how should the princess think of me?”

“Who knows? Even Odin owned that the minds of maids were hard to fathom. But one may find a reason or two. Maybe that oath has somewhat to do with it. A good daughter will go far to carry out her father’s will, and, in the plain sense thereof, she will certainly do it thus. Then it is likely that she knows that you are no churl, but the son of Grim, though we have fallen on hard times for a while. I have heard say that it is the custom here that a man who has crossed the seas in his own ship so many times is a thane by right of that hardihood. Thane’s son, therefore, might we call you. Then there is the jealousy of every other thane, if she chooses an East Anglian. Then she needs one who shall be mighty to lead her forces. Even the greatest thane will be content to follow a man who is a warrior of warriors. Ragnar can have told her what you are in that way. Faith, brother, there are reasons enough.”

Havelok laughed a short laugh at all this, and he grew brighter. There was sense in Withelm’s words, if they would not bear looking deeply into.

Then I said, adding to these words, “Moreover, Alsi could stop the whole foolishness of his niece if he did not think it a fitting match in some way.”

“So he could,” answered Havelok. “But yet–I tell you that there was naught but evil in his face. Why did he try to force me?”

Then he went back to the thing that weighed mostly on his noble heart– the thought that he was unworthy altogether.

“I fear that the princess does but think of me because she must. It is in my mind that Alsi may have threatened her also until she has consented. How shall I know this?”

“Most easily, as she speaks with you,” answered Withelm. “Tomorrow will tell you that. And then, if you find things thus, what shall prevent your flying?”

“Brother Radbard and the other housecarls,” said Havelok grimly.

“Not if you ask the princess to help you out of her own way by pretending to be most willing. If Alsi thinks you a gladsome couple, there is no difficulty. You walk out of the palace as a master there. Then you fly to Ragnar. That is all.”

Now that was such an easy way out of the whole coil that we planned it out. And yet it seemed to me that it was a pity that Havelok knew not more of what seemed to us so sure now. So, seeing that things were fairly straightened by this last thought, I got up and said that I must be going, making a sign to Withelm to come also; and, with a few more words, we went out. I saw Havelok set himself to a mighty task of water drawing as I looked back.

“Now,” said I, “here is a strange affair with a vengeance. Neither head nor tail can I make of it. But if all we think is right, this is the marriage for the son of Gunnar.”

“Son of Gunnar, or son of Grim,” said Withelm, “princess or not, happy is the maiden who gains Havelok for a husband. Maybe her woman’s wit has told her so. She will have many suitors whom she knows to be seeking her throne only, and to him she gives it as a gift unsought.”

“That is all beyond me,” I said; “but he would fill a throne well. But his own modesty in the matter of his worthiness is likely to stand in the way. Why should we not tell him all that we know? Then he will feel that he is doing no wrong.”

“Because we are not sure, and because it is not for us to choose the time. I have sent for Arngeir this morning, as we said would be well last night. If the princess is unwilling, there are many things that may be said; and if not, there must be many days before the wedding; and, ere the day, Havelok may feel that he is her equal in birth at least, if we are not wrong. But since I have waited here, Mord has told me the dream that has troubled the princess, that I may tell the priest, so that he can think it over. She has dreamed that she is to wed a man who shall be king both in Denmark and England, and she saw the man, moreover. Strangely like Havelok’s dream is that. Now what else made her turn faint but that this vision was like Havelok? And does not that make it possible that she wishes to wed him? Therefore I am going to tell the priest the story of Havelok, so far as I know it.”

“Well thought of. Tell him this also, for now I may surely tell you what you have not yet heard thereof.”

So I told him how Grim and I had taken Havelok from Hodulf, and then he was the more certain that we had saved the son of our king.

Now we thought that we had got to the bottom of the whole matter of the wedding. Of course the dream had all to do with the fainting, but nothing to do with the supposed wish. But we did not know that.

“Speak not of Gunnar by name, however,” I said; “he was a terror to Christian folk. The priest is likely to hinder the marriage with all his might else.”

Withelm flushed as he had when he first spoke of the priest to me.

“I think not, brother; for he knows Havelok well, and loves him.”

“So,” said I shortly, “he hopes to make him a Christian, doubtless.”

“I think that he will do so, if he has a Christian wife to help.”

“That would not suit Havelok,” I said, laughing.

“Nay, but such a mind as his it seems to suit well already, though he has not heard much.”

“Why, then,” said I, wondering, “if it suits our best and bravest, it must be a wondrous faith. It seems strange, however; but I know naught of it. What is good for him and you, my brother, is sure to be best.”

“I feared that you would be angry.”

“Nay, but with you and Havelok? How should that be? Why, if you two said that we must turn Christian, I should hold it right; so would Raven. I suppose that I go to the Ve [11] because you do.”

Now I troubled no more about the matter, being nothing but a sea dog who could use a weapon. And now I said that I was going to Eglaf to say that I might have to leave him at any time for home, in case we had to fly with Havelok. So Withelm went his way to the old priest with a light heart, and I to the captain.

“Well,” said Eglaf, “this is about what I expected when your brother came. Good it has been to have you here; and I think that I shall see you as a housecarl for good yet. When do you go?”

“The first time that I do not turn up on guard I am gone, not till then.”

“Come and drink a farewell cup first.”

“I shall be in a great hurry if I do not do that,” I answered, laughing.

But it was my thought that maybe when once my back was turned on the town, I should not have time to think of going near King Alsi’s guard.

Then I went to find Ragnar the earl, for we thought it well that he should know what was on hand. But when I came to the house of the thane with whom he was quartered, they told me that he had gone hastily with all his men, for word had come of some rising in his land that must be seen to at once. That was bad; and as one must find a reason for everything, I thought that the going of Griffin had much to do with the outbreak. There I was wrong, as I found later. But then, too, I knew that the craft of Alsi was at work in this message. He had his own reasons for wishing the earl out of the way.

CHAPTER XVI. A STRANGEST WEDDING.

Long spoke Withelm and the priest David together, until it was time for them to seek the palace; and when they came there, they spoke to Mord also. Then David thought it was well to say naught to Havelok until more was learned from Goldberga herself, for he would soon see how things stood with her. Then he would see Withelm again, and they would plan together for the best. So Withelm waited for the return of the priest, whom Mord took to his mistress. Alsi and his men were supping in the hall, but Goldberga was waiting in her own chamber.

Now the princess thought that, after her message to the king, she would hear no more of the kitchen knave, and so was happier. But all the while she pondered over her dream the thought of Havelok must needs come into it, and that was troublesome. Nevertheless, it was not to be helped, seeing that there was no doubt at all that he and the man of the vision were like to each other as ever were twins. Wherefore if the thought of one must be pleasant so at last must be that of the other. And then came the nurse with tales of what Berthun thought of this man of his–how that he was surely a wandering prince, with a vow of service on him, like Gareth of the Round Table in the days of Arthur.

So presently it seemed to the princess that the churl was gone, as it were, and in his place was a wandering atheling, at least, who was not a terror at all. Then at length the slow time wore away until Mord came with David the priest.

No priestly garb had the old man on, for that had made his danger certain; but though he was clad in a thrall’s rough dress, he was not to be mistaken for aught but a most reverend man.

“Peace be with you, my daughter,” he said; “it is good to look on the child of Orwenna, the queen whom we loved.”

Then the chamberlain left those two alone, and at once Goldberga told the priest why she had asked him to run the risk of coming to her, for there is no doubt that he was in peril, though not from Alsi himself.

At first she asked him many things about her mother, and learned much of her goodness to the poor folk, and of their love to her; and presently, when she grew more sure of the kindness and seeming wisdom of the priest, she told him all her dream, adding no thoughts of her own, as she mistrusted them.

Then said David, “There seems naught but good in this, and it is not hard to unravel. I think that all shall come to pass even as it was told you.”

“I feared the heathen ways of the place, and thought that it might be some snare of the old gods,” said Goldberga.

But David told her that they could have no power on her, and asked her if the king knew of the vision, that being one thing of which he was not sure; and when he found that he did not, the whole affair seemed more strange than before.

But now the princess asked him, “Plain were the words that I heard, hut what meant the light as of a sunbeam that came from the mouth of the man of the vision?”

“That surely means that in word and in heart and in all else the man shall be kingly altogether, so that there shall be no mistaking the same; and it may also mean that you shall know the man at once when you see him.”

At that Goldberga grew pale and red by turns, so that David, quick to read the thoughts of those who came to him for help, asked if she had seen anyone who she thought must be meant, not at all knowing that she must needs say that this was Curan.

Not at all willingly did she tell him this; but she did so, adding at last that Alsi had threatened to wed her to this man.

Now it was plain to David that all was pulling the same way, for surely Alsi wrought, unknowing, for the fulfilling of the dream; and all seemed to prove that Havelok was the son of the Danish king, and that he would win back his kingdom. Then he found out that the princess had no knowledge that the king had spoken to Havelok, but it did not seem to be needful that he should tell her that he had done so. That would be told by Alsi himself if he meant, as seemed certain, to carry out his threat. So he thought awhile, and at last he saw what he might do without saying anything to bend the choice of the princess in any way.

“It will soon be plain in what way the dream shall be fulfilled,” he said; “and this is certain, that you shall be wedded to none but the right man, else had it not been sent. Have no fear, therefore, even as it was bidden you.”

Then the princess said that the only thing which troubled her was the fear lest Alsi should yet force her to wed this one who was so like him she had seen in her dream.

“That,” said the priest, “is doubtless the most strange part of the whole matter, yet I think that even thus there need be no fear. I will tell you now that I know this one who is called Curan well, and I, and all who know him, love him. Truly he is not a Christian, but he is no hater of the faith, and that is much in these days. Nor is he a churl, but rather one of the most noble of men. It is certain that, whatever Alsi might wish, he would not wed you against your will. He has but to know your thoughts in order to help you in any way. But I must also tell you this, that he is a Dane, who fled from his land when he was a child; and it is thought that he is the son of the Danish king, who was slain at the time when Mord, your servant, fled also. He came to England in the same ship as did Mord, who can tell you more of him. It is certain that there is a secret about his birth, and the one who knows that secret is not far off. If need is, we can learn it, for there was a set time for its telling, and maybe this is it. Now, if it is true that he is the son of the Danish king, it does seem as if your dream might be bidding you to have no fear of what seems doubtful in the matter, though I cannot tell, and do not like to say so for certain. His name is not Curan, but Havelok.”

Then Goldberga said, “I have heard of that flight and of the wreck from Mord often. He was wont to tell me of the child, and of the lady who was drowned, and he said that he thought him the king’s son.”

After that she was greatly cheered, for the worst of the trouble seemed to be over and gone. It was in her mind now that Alsi knew who Havelok was, and that he tried her, for she was not one to think ill of any.

So she let the priest go, with many thanks, saying, “Now I know that whatever happens is the will of Heaven, and must be for the best. I am ready for whatever shall befall.”

Now I do not know what had seemed good to Alsi, for he had changed his mind concerning David’s visit to Goldberga, and had suddenly given orders that if he came he was to be put in ward at once. So Mord met the old man as he left the chamber, and told him that he must fly; and after that Withelm took him away in the dusk, for none hindered his going, and went to the widow’s with him, hearing all that had been said; and that which they thought was even as Goldberga had said, that all must needs be for the best. In a day or two all would he plain, for Arngeir would have come. So Withelm sent forth the old man to his own place with a good store of food, going with him for some miles, and promising him help for coming days until the dearth was ended.

Now into the palace none might come after the feast was set; and all this time I was on guard, for there were double posts round the place, by reason of Alsi’s fear of the attackers of the princess, as was said. So it happened that neither of us saw Havelok until next morning; and now I have to tell how we saw him, and what happened with the first sunlight, when men were thinking of breaking their fast.

We of the housecarls took that first meal of the day in the great hall –so many of us, that is, who were not on duty; and when we had nigh finished, Alsi would come in and seat himself on the high place, where Eglaf and half a dozen other thanes sat also at times when there was no special state to be kept.

I was early this morning, having just taken my spell of watching at the gate, and being, therefore, free for the rest of the day, and I was hungry with the sweet air of the July weather and the freshness that comes with sunrise. So I was not altogether pleased to see that there was seemingly some new affair of state on hand, while the breakfast was not yet set out by reason of preparations that were going on where the king’s chair was wont to stand. There was Berthun, looking puzzled and by no means pleased, and his men were busy setting out benches on the high place, of a sort that were not those that were wont to be there, in three sides of a square, the open side facing the hall. One bench made each side, and all three were carved from back rail to clawed feet wondrously. Old they seemed also. Then, too, instead of the sweet sedges that strewed the high place, men had spread a cloth of bright hues underfoot there, and the sedges had been swept among the rushes of the lower places. All this was so strange that I went forward, and when I had a chance I asked the steward what was on hand.

“If you know not, master housecarl, no more do I. ‘Justice to be done,’ says the king, and so I suppose that you have some notable prisoner in ward–maybe the leader of those villains who scared our fair princess.”

“But we had taken no man, and I will say that we had wondered that we had not been sent out to hunt those people, instead of biding to see if they came to trouble us here.”

“Why, then,” said Berthun, “some thane must be bringing a captive shortly. But why Alsi orders these benches, it passes me to make out. They are those that have been used for the weddings of his kin since the days of Hengist. Last time was when Orwenna, his sister, wedded Ethelwald of Norfolk. Maybe he thinks that they need airing.”

He laughed and went on directing his men; but knowing what I knew, I wondered what it all might mean, for there was one wedding that I could not help thinking of.

Presently the hall began to fill as men came in, and every one had somewhat to say, and all marvelled at this that was going on. Then Berthun came and beckoned to me, for I must fetch Eglaf the captain at once, as the king had need of him, in haste. Then Eglaf hurried to the hall; and after a word or two with Alsi, the horns were blown outside the hall door to call every man of the guard to the place. And when they came, we were all set round the wall as if guarding all that were in it. But there were none but the folk of the palace to guard, and they were wondering as were we; and when that was done, and the click and rattle of arms as we moved to our places was ended, there was a silence on all –the silence of men who wait for somewhat to happen.

Now Berthun went to the door on the high place, as he was wont when all was ready for the king’s presence, and the hush deepened, none knowing what they expected to see.

Forth came Berthun backward, as was the custom, and he turned aside to let the king pass him. His face was red and angry, as I thought, but amazed also. I was standing next to Eglaf, and he was at the foot of the dais, at the end of his line of men, so that I could see all plainly.

Then came Alsi, leading the princess, and after Goldberga came her nurse. No other ladies were with her; and now I noticed that there was not one thane on the high place, which was strange, and the first time that such a thing had been since I came here. I looked down the hall, and none were present. Now I looked at Alsi; and on his pale face was a smile that might have been as of one who will be glad, though he does not feel so. But the eyes of the princess were bright with tears, and hardly did she look from the floor. Hers was a face to make one sad to see at that time, wondrously beautiful as it was.

Alsi led her by the hand, and set her on the bench that was to his left, and signed to the nurse to sit beside her, which the old lady did, bridling and looking with scorn at the king as she took her place. There she sought the hand of the princess, and held it tightly, as in comforting wise. Very rich garments had the nurse, but Goldberga was dressed in some plain robe of white that shone when the light caught it. Mostly I do not see these things, but now I wished that she always wore that same.

As for Alsi, he had on his finest gear, even as at the great feast of the Witan–crimson cloak, fur-lined, and dark-green hose, gold-gartered across, and white and gold tunic. He had a little crown on also, and that was the only thing kingly about him, to my mind.

Now he cast one look at Goldberga, which made her shrink into herself, as it were, and turned with a smile to us all.

“Friends,” he said, “this is short notice for a wedding, but all men know that ‘Happy is the wooing that is not long a-doing,’ so no more need be said of that. All men know also that when good Ethelwald died he made me swear to him that I would wed his daughter to the mightiest and goodliest and fairest man that was in the land. I have ever been mindful of that oath, and now it seems that the time for keeping it has come. Whether the man whom my niece will wed is all that the oath requires, you shall judge; and if he is such a one, I must not stand in the way. I do not myself know that I have ever seen one who is so fully set forth in words as is this bridegroom in those of the oath.”

Now I heard one whisper near me, “Whom has Goldberga chosen?”

And that was what Alsi would have liked to hear, for his speech seemed to say that thus it was, and maybe that he did not altogether like the choice.

But now Alsi said to Berthun, “Bring in the bridegroom.”

“Whom shall I bring, lord?” the steward asked in blank wonder, and Alsi whispered his answer.

At that Berthun’s hands flew up, and his mouth opened, and he did not stir.

“Go, fool,” said Alsi, and I thought that he would have stamped his foot.

Now I knew who was meant in a moment, and even as the steward took his first step from off the dais to go down the hail to his own entrance, I said to Eglaf, “Here is an end to my service with you. My time is up.”

“Why, what is amiss?”

“The bridegroom is my brother–that is all; and I must be free to serve him as I may.”

“Well, if that is so, you are in luck. But I do not think that either of Grim’s sons can be the man. Big enough are you, certainly, but goodly? Nay, but that red head of yours spoils you.”

I daresay that he would have said more about Raven and Withelm, for a talk was going round; but a hush came suddenly, and then a strange murmur of stifled wonder, for Havelok came into the hall after Berthun, and all eyes were turned to him.

Now I saw my brother smile as he came, seeing someone whom he liked first of all; and then he looked up the hall, and at once his face became ashy pale, for he saw what was to be done. Yet he went on firmly, looking neither to right nor left, until he came to the high place. There he caught my eye, and I made a little sign to him to show that I knew his trouble.

They came to the step, and Berthun stood aside to let Havelok pass, and then Alsi held out his hand to raise my brother to the high place. But Havelok seemed not to see that, stepping up by himself as the king bade him come. Then the women who were in the hall spoke to one another in a murmur that seemed of praise; but whiter and more white grew the princess, so that I feared that she would faint. But she did not; and presently there seemed to come into her eyes some brave resolve, and she was herself again, looking from Alsi to Havelok, and again at Alsi.

Now, too, the king looked at him up and down, as one who measures his man before a fight. And when he met Havelok’s eyes he grew red, and turned away to the folk below him.

“So, friends,” he cried, “what say you? Am I true to the words of my oath in allowing this marriage?”

There was not one there who did not know Havelok, whom they called Curan; and though all thought these doings strange, there was a hum of assent, for the oath said naught of the station in life of the bridegroom. Good King Ethelwald had been too trustful.

“That is well,” said Alsi, with a grave face. “All here will bear witness that this was not done without counsel taken. Now, let the bridegroom sit in his place here to my right.”

He waved his hand, and Havelok sat down on the bench that faced Goldberga; and now he looked long at her with a look that seemed to be questioning. Alsi was going to his seat in the cross bench, where the parents of the couple are wont to sit at a wedding while the vows are made, but he seemed to bethink himself. It is my belief that he said what he did in order to shame both Havelok and Goldberga.

“Why, it is not seemly that the bridegroom should sit alone without one to be by him. Where are your friends, Curan?”

At that Alsi met with more than he bargained for. At once Berthun came forward, and forth came I, and without a word we sat one on each side of him. There were others who would have come also, for I saw even Eglaf take a step towards the high place, had we not done so.

Alsi’s face became black at that, for here was not the friendless churl he was scoffing at. But he tried to smile, as if pleased.

“Why, this is well,” he said. “Good it is to see a master helping his man, and a soldier ready to back a comrade of a sort. Now we have witnesses. Let us go on with the wedding.”

Now the golden loving cup that was used at the feasts had been filled and set at a little side table that stood there, and it was to be the bride cup that should be drunk between the twain when all was settled. So Alsi took this cup and held it, while he sat in the place of the father of the bride. Now, I knew nothing of what should he done, but Berthun did so, and well he took my brother’s part, having undertaken for him thus.

“It is the custom,” said Alsi, “that the bridegroom should state what he sets forth of the dowry to the bride.”

Whereat Berthun, without hesitation, spoke hastily to Havelok, and told him to let him answer, meaning, as I have not the least doubt, to promise all that he had saved in long years of service. But Havelok smiled a little, and set his hand to his neck, and I remembered one thing that he had–a ring which had always hung on a cord under his jerkin since he came to Grimsby, and which my father had bidden him keep ever.

“This give I,” he said, setting it on the floor at his feet, “and with it all that I am, and all that I shall hereafter be, and all that shall be mine at any time.”

Alsi looked at the ring as it flashed before him, and his face changed. No such jewel had he in all his treasures, for it was of dwarf work in gold, set with a deep crimson stone that was like the setting sun for brightness. I do not know whence these stones came, unless it were from the East. Eleyn the queen, his mother, was thence, and I know now that the ring was hers. But I think that when Alsi saw this he half repented of the match, though he had gone too far now to draw back. So he bowed, and said that it was well, as he would have said had there been nothing forthcoming.

Then Berthun, in his turn, asked for the bridegroom that the dowry of the bride should be stated for all to hear.

“The wealth left my niece by her father,” said Alsi. “The matter of the kingdom is for the Witan of the East Anglians to settle.”

Then came from out the king’s chamber two men bearing bags of gold, and that was set before the princess. It was a noble dowry, and honest was the king in this matter at least.

Now were the vows to be said and the bride cup to be drunk, and that was the hardest part of all to Havelok.

Slowly he rose as the king held it out to him, and he took it from his hand and stood before Goldberga; and she, too, rose and faced him, and for a moment they stood thus, surely the most handsome couple that had ever been.

Then Havelok said, looking in the clear eyes of the princess, “This have I sworn, that I will wed no unwilling bride. It is but for you to say one word, and the cup falls, and all is ended.”

Alsi started at that, and I thought he was going to speak, but he held his peace. Still as a rock was Havelok while he waited for the answer, and the folk in the hall were as still as he. They began to see that all was not right as the king would have it thought.

Once the princess looked at Alsi, and that with pride in her face, and then she looked long and steadfastly at Havelok, and one by one his fingers loosened themselves on the golden stem of the cup, that she might know him ready for her word.

Then she put forth her hand and closed it round his strong fingers, that he must hold it fast by her doing, and that was all that was needed. It was more than words could have told. And she smiled as she did it.

And at that a light came on Havelok’s face, and he smiled gravely back at her, and he said in a low voice that shook a little, “May the gods so treat me as I treat you, my princess. Can it be that you will trust me thus?”

She answered in no words, but I saw her hand tighten over his, and her eyes never left his face.

Then Havelok raised his other hand, and took that of Goldberga, which was on the cup, and faced to the people.

“Thus do I pledge her who shall be henceforward my wife through good and ill; and may Odin, Freya, and Niord be witnesses of my oath of faith to her in all that the word may mean.”

So he drank, and I stole a glance at the king. Never saw I a man so amazed, for to him the Danish names of the Asir had come as some sort of a shock, seeing that he had deemed this man, with the name of Curan, a Briton. And he looked at Berthun with a look that seemed to say more than was likely to be pleasant by-and-by. But the steward paid no heed to him.

Now Havelok had made his vow, and he gave the cup to the princess; and she, too, turned a little toward the people, but still she looked on Havelok.

“Faith shall answer to faith,” she said in a clear voice. “Here do I take this man for my husband, in the sight of God, and with you all as witnesses, and I pray that the blessing of Him may be on us both.”

So she drank also, and Havelok stopped and raised the wondrous ring from where it had been unheeded on the floor, and took the band of Goldberga, and set it on her finger, and kissed the hand ere he let it go.

But Goldberga lifted her face toward him, and he bent and kissed her forehead, and so they were wedded.

I have heard men scoff at the thought of love at first sight, but never can any one of us do so who saw this wedding.

CHAPTER XVII. HOW THE BRIDE WENT HOME.

Now the folk cheered, and loudest of all honest Eglaf and his warriors. I wondered what should come next, for neither feast nor bride ale was prepared, and Berthun was looking puzzled. Then I saw that the only face in all the wide hall which was not bright was that of Alsi, and his brow was black as a thunder cloud, while his fingers were white with the force with which he clutched and twisted the end of his jewelled belt. Plainly he was in a royal rage that none had scoffed at this wedding, but that all had taken it as a matter that was right altogether.

But he had one more evil thing in his mind that must be seen through; and he came forward, smoothing his face, as best he might, to the fixed smile that I had seen when he spoke with Ragnar, and learned that his first plot had miscarried.

“Now, friends,” he said, “all this has been so hasty that we have prepared no feast. Even now, it seems that the horses stand at the door to take bride and bridegroom hence, and doubtless there waits somewhere the feast that has been bespoken without my knowledge. Well, strange are the ways of lovers, and we will pardon them. I have therefore only to bid them farewell.”

With that he turned to Havelok, and held out his hand, as in all good fellowship, but Havelok would not see it.

“Fare as it shall be meted to you by the Asir, King Alsi,” he said, “for at least Loki loves craft.”

Then he turned to me, and asked hurriedly where we should go if we must leave thus.

“To Grimsby,” I said. “That is home.”

Alsi spoke to the princess now, and maybe it was as well that he did not offer so much as his hand. Wise was he in his way.

“Farewell, niece,” he said; “all this shall come shortly before the Witan of Ethelwald’s folk.”

“Farewell, uncle,” she answered calmly. “That is a matter which I will see to myself. You have carried out your oath to the letter, so far, and now it remains that you should leave the government of the realm to me.”

With that she put her hand on Havelok’s arm.

“Come, husband; we have heard that the horses wait. Let us be gone.”

And then in a quick whisper she added, as if nigh overdone, “Take me hence quickly, for I may not bear more.”

They wasted no more words; and through a lane of folk, who blessed them, those two went to the great door down the long hall, and I followed, and Berthun and the nurse came after me. One flung the door open; and on the steps, all unaware of what had happened, lounged Mord, waiting, and up and down on the green the grooms led the horses of the princess–six in all. On two were packed her goods, and the third had a pack saddle that waited for the bags that held her dowry. The other three were for herself and Mord and the nurse. There was not one for Havelok.

“This is hasty, my princess,” Mord said. “Whither are we bound?”

“For Grimsby, Mord,” I answered quickly. “Are there no more horses to be had?”

“Never a one, unless we steal from the king,” he answered.

The people were crowding out now that they might see the start, and I saw Berthun speak to a man among them who was a stranger to me. And from him he turned directly with a glad face.

“Go down to such a hostelry,” he said to me, “and there ask for what horses you will. Maybe I shall have to follow you for my part in this matter–that is, if I am not put in the dungeon.”

“Faith,” I answered, “better had you come with us than run that risk. Alsi is in a bad mood.”

He shook his head; and then the people behind him made way, for the king was coming.

“Almost had you forgotten this,” he said; “and I think you will want it.”

The men with the money were there, and he waved his hand to them. Havelok lifted the princess to her horse without heeding him, and the men set the bags on the pack horses.

“See the bridegroom down the street, you who were his witnesses,” the king went on, with a curling lip; “and if you are a wise man, master Berthun, you will not come back again.”

Berthun bowed and went into the hail, past the king, and across to his own door, without a word. After him the thronging people closed up, and though I thought that a housecarl would have been sent to see what he was about, this would have made an open talk, and Alsi forbore.

“Let Havelok take your horse, Mord,” I whispered to him; “I will tell you why directly.”

He nodded, and I told Havelok to mount. Then I helped up the nurse, who wept and muttered to herself; and so we started, Alsi standing on the steps with words of feigned goodspeed as we did so.

But the housecarls and the people shouted with wishes that were real, no doubt thinking that we were bound for the far-off kingdom of the prince who had won Goldberga by service as a kitchen knave in her uncle’s hall for very love of her.

Directly we were outside the gate that leads down the hill, I saw Withelm, who was there waiting for me, and he knew at once what had happened.

He came to my side, and asked only, “Already?”

“Already,” I answered; “but it is well. Go to the widow’s straightway, and bring Havelok’s arms to him at the hostelry at the end of the marketplace, where we have to find more horses.”

He went at once, and silently we came down the street and to the courtyard of the inn. Some few folk stared at us; but the princess was hardly known here, and she had cast her long, white mantle hoodwise over her head and face, so that one could not tell who she was. So early in the day there were few people in the marketplace either.

Berthun was in the courtyard of the inn, and I was glad to see him, for I did not know what would happen to him. It was likely that Alsi would seek for someone on whom to visit his anger at the way things had gone. But the steward had been warned, and was not one to run any risk.

“I did but go back for a few things that I did not care to leave,” he said; and he showed me that he had brought his own horse from the stables, and on it were large saddlebags. No poor man was Berthun after years of service in the palace, where gifts from thane and lady are always ready for the man who has had the care of them. Across the saddle bow also were his mail shirt and arms, and his shield hung with his helm from the peak.

“You see that I must needs cast in my lot with yours, or rather Curan’s,” he said, laughing; “but it is in my mind that in the end I shall not be sorry to have done so. I think that I am tired of the fireside, and want adventure for a while.”

“Well,” I answered, “you are likely to have them, and that shortly, if I am not mistaken; but we shall see. Now about these horses, for we had better get out of Lincoln as soon as we may.”

The man he had spoken with was a merchant, who came yearly, and was a friend of his. He had more horses than he meant to keep, as he had here each year; for every one knows that a horse can always be sold in Lincoln, and they were good ones. Then my gold came in well, and I bought three, one for each of us brothers. I daresay that I paid dearly for them, but there was no time for haggling in the way that a horse dealer loves. Out of the way of Alsi we must get, before he bethought him of more crafty devices. And I thought, moreover, that we should be riding towards East Anglia shortly, and it was not everywhere that a steed fit to carry Havelok on a long journey was to be had.

I had bidden him leave all this to me as we came down the hill, and glad he was to do so. Now he had dismounted, and stood by the side of the princess, speaking earnestly to her. It was plain that what he said was pleasant to her also. But we left them apart, as one might suppose.

Now came a warrior into the courtyard, and he bore more arms. It was Withelm, who had borrowed the gear of the widow’s dead husband, that he might be ready for whatever might happen: and it was good to see Havelok’s eyes grow bright as he spied the well-known weapons that his brother had in his arms. He said one word to Goldberga, and then came to us.

“Let me get into war gear at once,” he said, laughing in a way that lightened my heart. “I shall not feel that I have shaken off service to Alsi until I have done so.”

And then he saw Berthun here for the first time.

“Nay, but here is my master,” he added. “And I will say that I owe him much for his kindness.”

“Now the kindness shall be on your part, if any was on mine. Take me into your service, I pray you, henceforward.”

“Good friend of mine,” said Havelok, “naught have I to offer you. And how should one serve me?”

“With heart and hand and head, neither more nor less,” answered Berthun. “I have seen you serve, and now will see you command. Let me bide with you, my master, at least, giving you such service as I may.”

“Such help as you may, rather. For now we all serve the princess,” Havelok said.

And with that Berthun was well content for the time.

“Well, then,” said I, “see to Havelok’s arms, while we get the horses ready, for I want Withelm here.”

So Havelok and his new man went into the house with his arms, and then I saw Goldberga beckoning to us. It was the first time that I had spoken to her, and I think that I was frightened, if that is what they call the feeling that makes one wish to be elsewhere. But there was nothing to fear in the sweet face that she turned to us.

“Brothers,” she said, “Havelok tells me that it was one of you who brought David the priest to me. I do not rightly know yet which is Withelm.”

With that she smiled and blushed a little, and I stood, helm in hand, stupidly enough. But my brother was more ready.

“I am Withelm, my princess–” he began.

“Nay; but ‘sister’ it shall be between me and my husband’s brothers. Now, brother Withelm, there is one thing that is next my heart, and in it I know you will help me.”

There she wavered for a moment, and then went on bravely.

“Christian am I, and I do not think that we are rightly wedded until the priest has done his part. And to that Havelok agrees most willingly, saying that I must ask you thereof, for he does not know where the old man is now.”

“Wedded in the little chapel that is in the thick of Cabourn woods shall you be, for David has gone there already. We can ride and find him before many hours are over, sweet lady of ours.”

She thanked him in few words, and with much content.

Then came forth from the house Havelok, in the arms that suited him so well–golden, shining mail shirt of hard bronze scales, and steel, horned helm, plain and strong, and girt with sword and seax, and with axe and shield slung over shoulder, as noble a warrior surely as was in all England, ay, or in the Northlands that gave him birth either; and what wonder that the eyes of the princess glowed with a new pride as she looked at her mighty husband?

But Mord almost shouted when he saw him come thus, and to me he said,

“It is Gunnar–Gunnar, I tell you–come back from Asgard to help my princess.”

“Wait till we get to Grimsby, and Arngeir will make all clear,” I said. “Get into your arms, and we will start. All is ready now.”

We did not wait for Mord, but mounted and rode out, and the princess looked round at us as she rode first beside Havelok, and said, “Never have I ridden so well attended, as I think.”

And from beside me, with broad face from under his helm, Berthun answered for us all, “Never with men so ready to die for you, at least, my mistress.”

And that was true.

Half a mile out of the town we rode at a quick trot, and then thundered Mord after us, and his hurry surely meant something. I reined up and waited for him.

“What is the hurry, Mord?” said I.

“Maybe it is nothing, and maybe it is much,” he answered; “but Griffin of Chester has gone up to the palace, for I saw him. He has his arm in a sling, and his face looks as if it had been trodden on. Now Alsi will tell him all this, and if we are not followed I am mistaken. He would think nothing of wiping out our party to take the princess, and Alsi will not mind if he does. How shall we give him the slip?”

Withelm rode with his chin over his shoulder, and I beckoned him and told him this. Not long was his quick wit in seeing a way out of what might be a danger.

“Let us ride on quickly down the Ermin Street, and he will think us making for the south and Norwich. Then we will turn off to Cabourn, and he will lose us. After that he may hear that some of us belong to Grimsby, and will go there; but he will be too late to hurt us. Hard men are our fishers, and they would fight for Havelok and the sons of Grim.”

So we did that, riding down the old Roman way to a wide, waste forest land where none should see us turn off, and then across the forest paths to Cabourn; and there we found the hermit, and there Havelok and Goldberga were wedded again with all the rites of Holy Church, and the bride was well content.

Now while that was our way, I will say what we escaped by this plan of my brother’s, though we did not hear all for a long time. Presently we did hear what had happened at Grimsby towards this business, as will be seen.

To Lincoln comes Griffin, with Cadwal his thane, just as we had left the town thus by another road, and straightway he betakes himself to the palace. There he finds Alsi in an evil mood, and in the hall the people are talking fast, and there is no Berthun to receive him.

So, as he sits at the high table and breaks his fast beside the king, he asks what all the wonderment may be. And Alsi tells him, speaking in Welsh.

“East Anglia is mine,” he says, “for I have rid myself of the girl.”

Griffin sets his hand on his dagger.

“Hast killed her?” he says sharply.

“No; married her.”

“To whom, then?”

“To a man whom the Witan will not have as a king at any price.”

“There you broke faith with me,” says Griffin, snarling. “I would have taken her, and chanced that.”

“My oath was in the way of that. You missed the chance on the road the other day, which would have made things easy for us both. There was no other for you.”

Now Griffin curses Ragnar, and the Welsh tongue is good for that business.

“Who is the man, then?” he says, when he has done.

“The biggest and best-looking countryman of yours that I have ever set eyes on,” answers Alsi, looking askance at Griffin’s angry face. “There is a sort of consolation for you.”

“His name,” fairly shouts Griffin.

“Curan, the kitchen knave,” says Alsi, chuckling.

“O fool, and doubly fool!” cries Griffin; “now have you outdone yourself. Was it not plain to you that the man could be no thrall? Even Ragnar looks mean beside him, and I hate Ragnar, so that I know well how goodly he is.”

Now Alsi grows uneasy, knowing that this had become plainer and plainer to him as the wedding went on.

“Why, what do you know of this knave of mine?” he asks. “He was goodly enough for the sake of my oath, and the Witan will have none of him. That is all I care for.”

“What do I know of him? Just this–that you have married the queen of the East Angles to Havelok, son of Gunnar Kirkeban of Denmark, for whom men wait over there even now. The Witan not have him? I tell you that every man in the land will follow him and Goldberga if they so much as lift their finger. Done are the days of your kingship, and that by your own deed.”

Alsi grows white at this and trembles, for he minds the wondrous ring and the names of the Asir, but he asks for more certainty.

Then Griffin tells him that he was with Hodulf, and knew all the secret of the making away with the boy, and how that came to naught. Then he says that Hodulf had heard from certain Vikings that they had fallen on Grim’s ship, and that in the grappling of the vessel the boy and a lady had been drowned. It is quite likely that they, or some of them, thought so in truth, seeing how that happened. After that Hodulf had made inquiry, and was told that there were none but the children of Grim with him, and so was content. So my father’s wisdom was justified.

“Now I learned his name the other day; and I have a ship waiting to take me at once to Hodulf, that I may warn him. I have ridden back from Grimsby even now to say that, given a chance, say on some lonely ride, that might well have been contrived, I would take Goldberga with me beyond the sea. I thought more of that than of Hodulf, to say the truth.”

Now Alsi breaks down altogether, and prays Griffin to help him out of this.

“Follow the party and take her. They are few and unarmed, and it will be easy, for men think that there is a plot to carry her off, and this will not surprise any. Go to the sheriff and tell him that it has happened, and he will hang the men on sight when you have taken them. Then get to sea with the girl, and to Hodulf, and both he and I will reward you.”

“Thanks,” says Griffin, with a sneer; “I have my own men. Yours might have orders that I am the one to be hanged. It would be worth your while now to make a friend of your kitchen knave. You are not to be trusted.”

So these two wrangle for a while bitterly, for Alsi is not overlord of Griffin in any way. And the end is that the thane rides towards Grimsby first of all, with twenty men at his heels, knowing more than we thought. But he hears naught of us, and presently meets Arngeir on his way thence to see us. Him he knows, for already he has had dealings with him in the hiring of the ship. So he learns from him that certainly no such party as he seeks is on the road, and therefore rides off to the Ermin Street to stay us from going south.

But now we had time for a long start; and so he follows the Roman road when he reaches it all that day and part of next, and we hear no more of him at that time. There are many parties travelling on that way, and he follows one after another.

Now Arngeir knew at once that somewhat had happened when he heard from Griffin that the most notable man of those whom he sought was named Curan, and therefore he turned back at once and waited for us. And when we came in sight of the long roof of the house that Grim, our father, had built, standing among the clustering cottages of our fishers, with the masts of a trading ship or two showing above it in the haven, he was there on the road to greet us, having watched anxiously for our coming from the beacon tower that we had made.

Maybe we were two miles out of Grimsby at this time, for one can see far along the level marsh tracks from our tower; and Withelm and Mord and I rode on to him as soon as we saw him, that we might tell him all that had happened, and we rode slowly and talked for half a mile or so.

Then Withelm waited and brought Havelok to us, staying himself with the princess, that he might tell her the wondrous story of her husband; for we thought that it would be easier for him than for our brother maybe. Havelok was not one to speak freely of himself.

And when Goldberga had heard all, she was silent for a long way, and then wept a little, but at last told Withelm that all this had been foretold to her in her dream.

“Yet I am glad,” she said, “that I did not know this for certain, else had my Havelok thought that I did but wed him for his birth. Tell him, brother, that it was not so; say that I knew him as the husband Heaven sent for me when first I saw him.”

Now Havelok listened to Arngeir as he told him the well-kept secret, and now and again asked a question.

And when all was told he said, “Now have the dreams passed, and the light is come. I mind all plainly from the first.”

And he told all that had happened after Hodulf caught him, from the murder of his sisters to the time when I helped my father to take him from the sack. Only he never remembered the death of his mother or the storm, or how we came to Grimsby. Maybe it is rather a wonder that after all those hard things gone through he should recall anything, for he was nearly dying when we came ashore, as I have told.

“But I am Grim’s son,” he said, “for all this, and never shall I forget it. By right of life saved, and by right of upbringing, am I his, and by right of brotherhood to his sons. Gunnar, who was my father, would have me say this, if I am like him, as Mord tells me I am.”

Then he looked at us in brotherly wise, as if we would maybe not allow that claim now; but there needed naught to be said between us when he met our eyes. He was Grim’s son indeed to us, and we his younger brothers for all the days that were to come.

“One thing there is that makes me glad,” he said, “and that is because I may now be held worthy of this sweet bride of mine so strangely given, as indeed I fear that I am not. Men will say that she has done no wrong in wedding me; and for all that Alsi may say, it will be believed that she knew well whom she was wedding. There will be no blame to her.”

That seemed to be all his thought of the matter now, and it was like him. Then he went back to his princess, and we spurred on to Grimsby, and set all to work, that the greeting might be all that we could make it.

And so, when those two rode into our garth, and the gates were closed after them, we reined our horses round them, and drew our swords, and cried the ancient greeting with one mighty shout:

“Skoal to Havelok Gunnarsson–Skoal to Goldberga, Havelok’s wife! Skoal! Yours we are, and for you we will die! Skoal!”

CHAPTER XVIII. JARL SIGURD OF DENMARK.

Now one would like to tell of quiet days at Grimsby; but they were not to be. Three days after Havelok’s homecoming we were on the “swan’s path,” and heading for Denmark, with the soft south wind of high summer speeding us on the way. And I will tell how that came about, for else it may seem strange that Havelok did not see to the rights of his wife first of all.

That was his first thought, in truth, and we brothers planned many ways of getting to work for her, for it was certain that Alsi would be on his guard. And on the next day came a man from Lincoln to seek Berthun, with news. That good friend had done what none of us had been able to manage, for he had told the merchant, his friend, to bide in the hall and hear what went on, and then to let him know all else that seemed needful that we should hear. Now he had learned all from the words of Griffin and Alsi, who took no care in their speech, thinking that none in the hall knew the Welsh tongue that they used.

It being the business of a merchant to know that of every place where he trades, and he travelling widely, there was no difficulty to him, and mightily he enjoyed the sport. Then he sent off straightway to us; and now it was plain that we were in danger–not at once, maybe, but ere long. Griffin would hear sooner or later that his quarry was in Grimsby after all. So we went to our good old friend, Witlaf of Stallingborough, and told him all.

“Why,” he said, “I will have no Welsh outsiders harrying my friends. Light up your beacon if he comes, and shut your gates in his face, and I and the housecarls will take him in the rear, and he will not wait here long. I have not had a fight for these twenty years or so, and it does me good to think of one.”

So we thought that there was little fear of the Welshman.

When I came back from this errand, however, I chose to pass the mound where my father slept, and on it, hand in hand, sat Havelok and Goldberga–for it was a quiet place, and none came near it often. It was good to see them thus in that place, and happy they seemed together.

Goldberga called me when I came near, and I sat down beside them as she bade me.

“Here we have been talking of what we shall do now, for it seems that to both of us are many things to hand,” she said. “Good it would be if we could set them aside; but we were born to them, and we cannot let them be. And, most of all, here in this place we may not forget the duty that Grim would remind us of. Havelok must go to Denmark and win back his kingdom from Hodulf first of all.”

“We have thought that East Anglia was to be won first from Alsi,” I said.

“So says Havelok; but I do not think so. For, indeed, I am but the wife, and the things of the husband come first of all. Now, this is what I would say. Sail to Denmark before Hodulf knows what is coming, and there will be less trouble.”

“I am slow at seeing things,” said Havelok; “but the same might be said of your kingdom.”

“Alsi is ready, and Hodulf is not,” she answered, laughing; “any one can see that.

“Is it not so, brother?”

So it was; and I thought that she was right.

“Let us ask the brothers,” I said, “for here are many things to be thought of; and, first of all, where to get men.”

That was the greatest trouble to our minds, but none at all to hers.

“Get them in Denmark,” she said, when we were all together in the great room of the house that evening. “Let us go as merchant folk, and find Sigurd, or his son if he is dead. If I am not much mistaken, all the land will rise for the son of Gunnar so soon as it is known that he has come again.”

“Sigurd is yet alive,” Arngeir said; “and more than that, he is waiting. For he promised Grim that he would be ready, and I heard the promise. I think that this plan is good, and can well be managed. Here is the ship that Griffin was to have taken today, and he is not here. Gold enough I have, for Grim hoarded against this time.”

Then he showed us the store that, through long years, my father had brought together to take the place of that of Sigurd’s which had been lost; and it was no small one. And so we planned at once; and in the end we three brothers were to go with Havelok and Goldberga, leaving Mord to get to Ragnar and tell him that Goldberga was following the fortunes of her husband, and would return to see to her own if all went well. Berthun would go with him, and Arngeir would bide at home, for we needed one to whom messages might come; and while none would know us now in Denmark, either Arngeir or Mord might be seen, and men would tell Hodulf that the men of Grim had come home, and so perhaps spoil all. Word might go to Denmark from Griffin even yet.

We had little thought of any sorry ending to our plans, for the dreams that had come so true so far cheered us. And so, with the evening tide of the next day, we sailed in the same ship that had been hired for Griffin.

But first Havelok spent a long hour on my father’s mound alone, thinking of all that he owed to him who rested there. And to him came Goldberga softly, presently, lest he should be lonely in that place. And there she spoke to him of her own faith, saying that already he owed much to it. For he was making his vows to the Asir for success.

“Shall you pray yet again to the Asir, my husband?” she asked.

“Why should I? I have vowed my vows, and there is an end. If they heed them, all is well; and if not, the Norns hinder.”

“There is One whom the Norns hinder not at all,” she said gently, and so told him how that her prayers would go up every day.

Fain was she that he also prayed in that wise to her God, that naught might be apart in their minds.

Then he said, “I have heard this from David and Withelm also, and it is good. Teach me to vow to your God, sweet wife, and I will do so; and you shall teach me to pray as you pray.”

So it came to pass that Havelok in the after days was more than ready to help the Christian teachers when they came to him; for that was how the vow that he made ran, that he would do so if he was king, and had the power.

Now there is nothing to tell of our voyage, for one could not wish for a better passage, if the ship was slow. Indeed, she was so slow that a smaller vessel that left Tetney haven on the next day reached the same port that we were bound for on the night that we came to our old home. And that we learned soon after she had come.

Into Sigurd’s haven we sailed on the morning tide, and strange it seemed to me to see the well-known place unchanged as we neared it. My father’s house was there, and Arngeir’s, and the great hall of the jarl towered over all, as I remembered it. Men were building a ship in the long shed where ours had been built, and where the queen had hidden; and the fishing boats lay on the hard as on the day when Havelok had come to us. The little grove was yet behind our house, and it seemed strange when I remembered that the old stones of its altar were far beyond the seas. I wondered if Thor yet stood under his great ash tree; and then I saw one change, for that tree was gone, and in its place stood a watchtower, stone built, and broad and high, for haven beacon.

On the high fore deck stood Havelok, and his arm was round Goldberga as we ran in, but they were silent. The land held overmuch of coming wonder for them to put into words, as I think.

Presently the boats came off to us in the old way, and here and there I seemed to know the faces of the men, but I was not sure. It was but the remembrance of the old Danish cast of face, maybe. I could put no names to any of them. And as we were warped alongside the wharf, there rode down to see who we were Sigurd the jarl himself, seeming unchanged, although twelve years had gone over him. He was younger than my father, I think, and was at that age when a man changes too slowly for a boy to notice aught but that the one he left as a man he thought old is so yet. He was just the noble-looking warrior that I had always wondered at and admired.

We had arranged in this way: Havelok was to be the merchant, and we his partners in the venture, trading with the goods in the ship as our own. That the owner, who was also ship master, had agreed to willingly enough, as we promised to make good any loss that might be from our want of skill in bargaining. One may say that we bought the cargo, which was not a great one, on our own risk, therefore, hiring the vessel to wait our needs, in case we found it better to fly or to land elsewhere presently. Then Havelok was to ask the jarl’s leave to trade in the land, and so find a chance to speak with him in private. After that the goods might be an excuse for going far and wide through the villages to let men know who had come, without rousing Hodulf’s fears.

And as we thought of all this on the voyage, Goldberga remembered that it was likely that Sigurd would know again the ring that had been the queen’s, and she said that it had better be shown him at once, that he might begin to suspect who his guest was. For we knew that he was true to the son of Gunnar, if none else might still be so.

This seemed good to us all; and, indeed, everything seemed to be well planned, though we knew that there are always some happenings that have been overlooked. We thought we had provided against these by keeping the ship as our own to wait for us, however, and it will be seen how it all worked out in the end.

Now Havelok went ashore as soon as the ship was moored; and the moment that he touched land he made a sign on his breast, and I think that it was not that of the hammer of Thor, for Goldberga watched him with bright eyes, and she seemed content as she did so. He went at once to where the jarl sat on his horse waiting him, and greetings passed. I was so used to seeing men stare at my brother that I thought little of the long look that Sigurd gave him; but presently it seemed that he was mightily taken with this newcomer, for he came on board the ship, that he might speak more with him and us.

“Presently,” he said, “you must come and dine with me at my hall; for the lady whom I saw as you came in will be weary, and a meal on shore after a long voyage is ever pleasant. Now what is your errand here?”

“Trading, jarl,” answered Havelok.

“I thought you somewhat over warlike-looking for a merchant,” said Sigurd; “what is your merchandise?”

“Lincoln cloth, and bar iron, and such like; and with it all one thing that is worth showing to you, jarl, for I will sell it to none but yourself.”

Now we went aft slowly, and presently Havelok and the jarl were alone by the steering oar, by design on our part.

“This seems to be somewhat special,” said Sigurd. “What is it?”

Havelok took the ring from his pouch, and set it in the jarl’s hand without a word; and long Sigurd looked at it. I saw the red on his cheek deepen as he did so, but he said never a word for a long time. And next he looked at Havelok, and the eyes of these two met.

“This is beyond price,” said the jarl slowly. “Not my whole town would buy this. It is such as a queen might wear and be proud of.”

“Should I show it to Hodulf the king, therefore?” asked Havelok, with his eyes on those of the jarl.

“Let no man see it until I know if I can buy it,” answered Sigurd. “Trust it to my keeping, if you will, for I would have it valued maybe.”

“It is my wife’s, and you must ask her that.”

Then Havelok called Goldberga from her cabin under the after deck, and the jarl greeted her in most courtly wise.

“I will trust it with you, Jarl Sigurd,” she said, when he asked her if he might keep the ring for a time. “Yet it is a great trust, as you know, and it will be well to show the ring to none but men who are true.”

“It is to true men that I would show it,” he answered, with that look that had passed between him and Havelok already; and I was sure that he knew now pretty certainly who we were. Yet he could not say more at this time, for the many men who waited for Havelok must be told somewhat of his coming first.

Now men were gathering on the wharf to see the newcomers, and so the jarl spoke openly for all to hear.

“Come up to my hall, all of you, and take a meal ashore with me; for good is the first food on dry land after days at sea and the fare of the ship.”

So he went across the gangway, and to his horse, and rode away quickly, calling back to us, “Hasten, for we wait for you. And I will find you lodgings in the town for the time that you bide with us.”

Now at first that seemed somewhat hazardous, for we had meant to stay in the ship, lest we should have to fly for any reason suddenly. But it seemed that we had no choice but to do as he bade us, and we could not doubt him in any way. We should go armed, of course, as in a strange place; and, after all, unless Hodulf heard of us, and wanted to see us, he was not to be feared as yet. So I fell to wondering where our lodgings would he, and if the old families still dwelt in the houses that I had known, and then who had ours. Many such thoughts will crowd into the mind of one who sees his old land again after many years, and finds naught changed, to the eye at least.

Men have told me that, as we came into the hall presently, they thought us the most goodly company that had ever crossed its threshold; and that is likely, for at our head were Havelok and Goldberga. Raven was a mighty warrior to look on as he came next, grave and silent, with far-seeing grey eyes that were full of watching, as it were, from his long seafaring, and yet had the seaman’s ready smile in them. And Withelm was the pattern of a well-made youth who has his strength yet to gather, and already knows how to make the best use of that he has. There were none but thought that he was the most handsome of the three sons of Grim. And last came I, and I am big enough, at least, to stand at Havelok’s back; and for the rest, one remembers what Eglaf said of me. But I do not think that any noticed us with those twain to look at, unless they scanned our arms, which were more after the English sort than the Danish, so far as mail and helms are concerned, and therefore might seem strange.

The old hall was not changed at all; and handsome it seemed after Alsi’s, though it was not so large. There were more and better weapons on the walls, and carved work was everywhere, so that in the swirl and heat-flicker of the torches the beams, and door posts, and bench ends, and the pillars of the high seat seemed alive with knotted dragons that began, and ended, and writhed everywhere, wondrous to look on. Our English have not the long winter nights, and cruel frosts, and deep snow that make time for such work as this for the men of the household.

There fell a silence as we came in, and then Sigurd greeted us; and we were set on the high seat, and feasted royally. On right and left of our host sat Havelok and Goldberga, and the jarl’s wife next to Havelok, and Biorn the Brown, the sheriff, next to our princess. This was a newcomer here since my days, but well we liked him.

There is nothing to tell of what happened at this feast, for Sigurd asked no questions of us but the most common ones of sea, and wind, and voyage, and never a word that would have been hard for Havelok to answer in this company, where men of Hodulf’s might well be present. Withelm noticed this, and said that no doubt it was done purposely, and he thought much of it.

When we had ended with song and tale, and it was near time for rest, Sigurd bade Biorn, the sheriff, take us to his house for the night, telling him that he must answer for our safety, and specially that of the fair lady who had come from so far. And then he gave us a good guard of his housecarls to take us down the street, as if he feared some danger.

“Why, jarl,” said Biorn, “our guests will have a bad night if they think that in our quiet place they need twenty men to see them to bed thus!”

“Nay, but the town is strange to the lady,” answered Sigurd; “and who knows what she may fear in a foreign land!”

So Biorn laughed, and was content; and we bade farewell to the jarl, and went out. And then I found that it was to my father’s house we were to go, for it had been given to Biorn.

Now, I was next to Goldberga as we came to the door, and there was a step into the house which we always had to warn strangers of when it was dark; and so, in the old way, without thinking for a moment, I said to her, “One step into the house, sister.”

“Ho, Master Radbard, if that is you, you have sharp eyes in the dark,” said Biorn at once; “I was just about to say that myself.”

“I have some feeling in my toes,” I answered; and that turned the matter, for they laughed.

And then, when we were inside, and the courtmen had gone clattering down the street homewards, Biorn took the great door bar from its old place and ran it into the sockets in the doorposts, as I had done so many times; and the runes that my father had cut on it when he made the house were still plain to be seen on it, with the notches I had made with the first knife that I ever had. More I will not say, but everywhere that my eyes fell were things that I knew, even to fishing gear, for it seemed that Biorn was somewhat of a fisher, like Grim himself.

Then they put me and my brothers into our old loft, and Havelok and Goldberga had the room that had been my father’s. As for Biorn, he would be in the great room, before the fire. There was only this one door to the house, and therefore he would guard that. His thralls were in the sheds, as ours used to be, so that we and he were alone in the house.

Now, as soon as we three had gone into our old place of rest, Raven went at once, as in the old days, to the little square window that was in the high-pitched gable, and looked out over the town and sea. We used to laugh at him for this, for he was never happy until he had seen, as we said, if all was yet there.

“There are yet lights in the jarl’s hall,” he said, “and there are one or two moving about down in the haven. I think that there is a vessel coming in.”

“Come and lie down, brother,” I said. “We are not in Grimsby, and you cannot go and take toll from her if there is.”

He laughed, and came to his bed; but we talked of old days and of many things more for a long while before we slept. And most of all, we thought that Sigurd the jarl knew Havelok by the token of the ring and by that likeness to Gunnar which Mord had seen, and that our errand was almost told.

So we slept without thought of any danger; but the first hour of the night in that house was not so quiet to Goldberga, for presently she woke Havelok, and she was trembling.

“Husband,” she said, “it is in my mind that we are in danger in this place; for I cannot sleep by reason of a dream that will come to me so soon as my eyes are closed.”

“You are overtired with the voyage,” Havelok told her gently; and then he asked her what the dream was.

“It seems that I see you attacked by a boar and many foxes, and hard pressed, and then that a bear and good hounds help you. Yet we have to flee to a great tree, and there is safety. Then come two lions, and they obey you.”

“I think that is a dream that comes of waves, and the foam that has followed us, and the shrill wind in the rigging, and the humming of the sail, sweet wife; and the tree is the tall mast maybe, and the lions are the surges that you saw along this shore, where is no danger.”

So she was content; and then all in the house slept.

CHAPTER XIX. THE LAST OF GRIFFIN OF WALES.

Maybe it was about an hour before midnight when the first waking came to any of us, and then it was Biorn himself who was roused by footsteps that stayed at the doorway itself, after coming across the garth, and then a voice that was strange to him which bade him open. At once he caught up his axe and went to the door, and asked quietly who was there.

“Open at once,” said the man who was without; “we must speak with you.”

“Go hence, I pray you, and wait for morning,” said the sheriff. “Here are guests of the jarl’s, and they must not be disturbed.”

“Open, or we will open for ourselves,” was the answer. “We have no time to stay here talking.”

“That is no honest speech,” quoth Biorn. “Go hence, or give me your errand from without.”

“Open, fool, or we will have the door down.”

“There is an axe waiting for you if you do that. I rede you go hence in peace, or it may be worse for you in the end.”

I suppose it was in the mind of the sheriff that here were some friends of his who had been overlong at the ale bench in the hall that evening; but on this there was a little talk outside, and then the crash of a great stone that was hurled against the door; and at that he started back and got his mail shirt on him, for the door was strong enough to stand many such blows yet. It seemed that there was more than a drunken frolic on hand. Then came another stone against the door, and it shook; and at the same moment Havelok came from his chamber to see what was amiss, for the noise had waked him. He had thrown on the feasting gear that he had been wearing; but he had neither mail nor helm, though he had his axe in his hand.

“What is the noise?” he said anxiously, seeing that Biorn was arming.

The sheriff told him quickly, and again the door was battered.

“It is a pity that a good door should be spoilt,” said Havelok, “for down it is bound to come thus. Stand you there with the axe, and I will even save them the trouble of breaking in.”

“Nay,” said Biorn; “we know not how many are there, and it were better that you should arm first. There is time.”

“Why, they think that you are alone in the house, no doubt, and will run when they find out their mistake. They are common thieves from the forest, or outlaws. Stand you by to cut down the first man that dares to enter, if there happen to be one bold enough.”

He set his axe down, and went to the bar, and began to slide it back into the deep socket that would let it free, and the men outside stayed their blows as they heard it scraping. It was a very heavy bar of oak, some seven feet long, and over a palm square.

“Now!” cried Havelok, and caught the bar from its place.

He did not take the trouble to set it down and get his axe; but as the door opened a little he stood back balancing the great beam in his hands, as a boy would handle a quarterstaff, ready for the rush of the thieves that he expected, and so he was in the way of Biorn more or less.

Now there was silence outside, and one saw that the door was free, and set his foot to it, and flung it open, for it went inwards. And then Havelok knew that there was a stern fight before him, for the moonlight showed the grim form of Griffin, the Welsh thane, fully armed and ready.

“Stand back, friend,” cried Biorn hastily, fearing for the unarmed man, and caring nothing that beyond the foremost was a group of some half dozen more warriors.

But he spoke too late, for as Griffin stepped back a pace on seeing his enemy himself in the doorway, Havelok had gone a pace forward, and now was outside, where he had a clear swing of his unhandy weapon.

Now Griffin gathered himself together, and spoke some few words to his men in his own tongue; but my brother paid no heed to them, for he knew what the way of the Briton was likely to be. And he was not wrong, for without warning Griffin flew on him, sword point foremost, and left handed, for he might not use the right for many a long day yet.

Biorn shouted; but Havelok was ready, and the heavy bar caught and shivered the light sword, and then swung and hurled the thane back among his men with a rib broken. Havelok followed that up, falling on the men even as their leader was among their feet. Two he felled with downright strokes, and another shrank away in time to save himself from the like fate. Then a fourth got in under his guard, and wounded Havelok slightly in the left arm; and unless Biorn had been out and beside him by that time it would have gone hard with him, for both those who were left were on him, and another was hanging back for a chance to come.

There was shouting enough now, for the Briton does not fight in silence as do the northern men, and we had waked. First of all Raven ran down to the great room, half dazed with sleep, and blaming himself for all this trouble, for he had seen that a ship was coming in, and he might have thought it possible that it had brought Griffin and his men, whose tongue had told him at once what had happened.

Now he called to us to arm quickly, and sought for a weapon for himself; and in that familiar place he went to the old corner where the oars were wont to be set. There was one, for I have said that this Biorn was a fisher, and the place that was handy for us had been so for him. That was a homely weapon to Raven, and out into the moonlight he came with it, and swept a Welshman away from Havelok’s side as he came. But now more men were coming–townsfolk who had been roused by the noise– and they knew nothing of the attackers, and so thought them friends of ours, who joined us in falling on their sheriff; and there was a wild confusion when Withelm and I came down armed.

But what we saw first was a dim, white figure in the doorway of the other room; and there stood Goldberga, wide eyed and trembling.

“My dream, my dream!” she said.

But of that we knew nothing; and we could but tell her to be of good courage, for we would win through yet, and so went out to the fight.

By this time Griffin was up again, and as I came from the door he was once more ready to fall on Havelok from behind. So I thought it best to stay him, and I shouted his name, and he turned and made for me. But there was no skill in his coming, or he did not think me worth it, for the axe had the better, and there was an end of Griffin.

Withelm saw at once that Havelok had no weapon but the bar, and he ran to him and held out his own axe.

“Thanks, brother. Mine is inside the door. Get it for me,” said he; but now he was laughing, and doing not much harm to anyone, and as I got behind his back I saw why this was.

There was only one of Griffin’s men left, and all the rest of the crowd of half-armed men were townsfolk. Havelok and Raven were keeping these back with sweeps of their long weapons, and behind them against the wall was the sheriff, swearing and shouting vainly to bid his people hold off and listen to him. And the noise was so great that they did but think that he was calling them to rescue him from these who had taken him prisoner. It seemed that the Welshman was keeping this up also; but neither he nor any of the men cared to risk any nearness to the sweep of bar and long oar in such hands. There were many broken heads in that crowd; but it was growing greater every minute, and those who were coming were well armed, having taken their time over it. They say that there were sixty men there at one time.

Now ran Withelm with the axe, and at that Havelok parted with the door bar, and ended the last Welshman at the same time, for he hurled it at him endwise, like a spear, and it took him full in the chest, and he went down to rise no more. And at that the townsmen ran in, and we were busy for a space, until once more they were in a howling circle round us. But they had wounded Havelok again; and Biorn was at his wit’s end, for he had had to take part in the fight this time. The men were mad with battle, and forgot who he was, as it seemed. And now some raised a cry for bows.

That was the worst thing that we had to fear, and Raven called to us, “Into the house, brothers, and keep them out of it till the jarl comes. He will hear, or be sent for.”

So we went back and got into the doorway, and we could not bar it at first. But Withelm hewed off the blade of Raven’s oar, and I went out and cleared the folk away for a space, and leapt back; and Havelok and I got the door shut quickly against them as they came back on it, and we barred it with the oar loom. That was but pine, however, and it would not last long.

Outside, the people were quiet for a little, wondering, no doubt, how to rescue Biorn. He wanted to go out to them, but it did not seem safe just yet. If they grew more reasonable it might be so.

Then, as we rested thus, Goldberga came quickly, for she saw that her husband was wounded, and she began to bind his hurts with a scarf she had. She was very pale, but she was not weeping, and her hands did not shake as she went to work.

“This is my dream,” she said. “Was that the voice of Griffin that I heard? It does not seem possible; but there is none other who speaks in the old tongue of Britain here, surely.”

“There is no more fear of him,” said Havelok, looking tenderly at her. “Your dream has come true so far, if he was in it. How did it end?”

“We fled to a tree,” she said, smiling faintly.

Havelok smiled also, for this seemed dream stuff only to all of us– all of us but Withelm, that is, for at once he said, “This door will be down with a few blows. What of that tower of yours, Biorn? Might we not get there and wait till the jarl comes?”

At that Biorn almost shouted.

“That is a good thought, and we can get there easily. Well it will be, also, for the men are wild now, and there have been too many slain and hurt for them to listen to reason.”

“Bide you here,” said Withelm, “for it is we whom they seek. Then you can talk to them.”

But he would not do that, seeing that we had been put in his charge by the jarl.

“I go with you,” he said. “Now, if we climb out of the window that is in the back of the house we can get to the tower before they know we are gone.”

We went into that chamber where Havelok had once been when he was taken from the sack, and even as I unbarred the heavy shutter and took it down, the door began to shake with a fresh attack on it. The trees of the grove were two hundred yards from the house, maybe, and among them loomed high and black the watchtower I had seen from the sea. A wide path had been cut to it, and the moonlight shone straight down this to the door of the building.

Now Biorn went out first, and then he helped out Goldberga, and after her we made Havelok go; and we called to these three to get to the tower as Withelm came next, for every moment I looked to see our enemies–if they are to be called so when I hardly suppose they knew what they were fighting about–come round to fall on the back of the house.

Because of Goldberga they went; and Biorn opened the tower door, and she passed into the blackness of its entry, but the two men stayed outside for us. And we three were all out of the house when the first of the crowd bethought themselves, and made for the back, and saw us.

At once they raised a shout and a rush, and we did not think it worth while to wait for them, as they would get between us and the tower, which was open for us. So we ran, and they were, some twenty of them, hard at our heels as we reached the door, and half fell inside, for the winding stairway was close to the entry. I think that Biorn and Havelok had made their plans as they saw what was coming, for Havelok followed us and stood in the doorway, while Biorn was just outside with his axe ready.

“Hold hard, friends!” he called, as the men came up and halted before him; “what is all this?”

“Stand aside and let us get at them,” said the foremost, panting.

“Nay,” said Biorn; “what harm have they done?”

“Slain a dozen men and lamed twice as many more,” answered several voices; “have them forth straightway.”

“They were attacked, and defended themselves,” said the sheriff, “and it is no fault of theirs that they had to do their best. Get you home, and I will answer to the jarl for them. They are the jarl’s guests.”

Then was a howl that was strange, and with it voices which seemed to let some light on the matter.

“They have slain the jarl’s guests.”

And then came forward a big black-bearded man whom I had seen in the crowd already, and he squared up to Biorn.

“Lies are no good, master sheriff, for we know that the outlanders who spoke the strange tongue must be the guests who came.”

“I am no liar,” answered Biorn. “Is there not one man here who saw the ship and her folk this afternoon?”

Now this man seemed not to want that question answered, for he shouted to the crowd not to waste time in wrangling, but to have out the murderers; and he took a step towards Biorn, bidding him side no more with the men, but let the folk deal with them.

“You overdo your business as sheriff!” he said.

It was Biorn who wasted no more time, for he saw that here was deeper trouble than a common riot. He lifted his axe.

“Come nearer at your peril,” he said.

Then the black-bearded man sprang at him, and axe met sword for a parry or two, flashing white in the moonlight. Then one weapon flashed red suddenly, and it was Biorn’s, and back into the tower he sprang as his foe fell, and Havelok flung the door to, and I barred it.

“Up,” said Biorn; and in the dark we stumbled from stair to stair, while the crowd howled and beat on the door below us. It was good to get out into the moonlight on the roof, where we could rest. I was glad that the tower was there instead of Thor, and also that it was strong. It was no great height, but wide, and the men below looked comfortably far off at all events.

“Here is a fine affair,” quoth Biorn, sitting himself down with his back against the high stone wall round the tower top. “It will take me all my time to set this right.”

“You have stood by us well, friend,” Havelok said, “and it is a pity that you have had to share our trouble so far as this. Who was the man who fell on you?”

“That is the trouble,” answered Biorn, “for there will be more noise over him than all the rest. He was Hodulf’s steward, the man who gathers the scatt, and therefore is not liked. And all men know that there was no love lost between him and me.”

“Hodulf’s man,” said I; “how long has he been here, and is he a Norseman?”

For I knew him. He was the man who had spoken to me at the boat side when we had to fly–one, therefore, who knew all of the secret of Havelok.

“Ay, one of the Norsemen who came here with the king at the first, and is almost the last left of that crew. I suppose that you have heard the story.”

We had, in a way that the honest sheriff did not guess, and I only nodded. But I thought that we had got rid of an enemy in him, and that Griffin had fallen in with him on landing, and known him, and taken him into his counsel about us. He would have gone down to see the vessel and collect the king’s dues from her and from us at the same time. He had not come into the town till late, as we heard afterwards.

There was no time for asking more now, however, for the shouts of the men round the door ceased, and someone gave orders, as if there was a plan to be carried out. So I went and looked over on the side where the door was to see what was on hand.

It was about what one would have expected. They had got the trunk of a tree, and were going to batter the door in. But now we were all armed, for Raven had brought Havelok’s gear with him when he fetched his own. He had thought also for Goldberga, and she was sitting in the corner of the tower walls wrapped in a great cloak that she had used at sea, with her eyes on her husband, unfearing, and as it seemed waiting for the end that her dream foretold.

I called the rest, and we looked down on the men. They saw us, and an arrow or two flew at us, badly aimed in the moonlight.

“Waste of good arrows,” said Havelok; “but we must keep them from the door somehow.”

“Would that the jarl would come,” growled Biorn, “for I do not see how we are to do that.”

“If they do break in,” said I, “any one can hold a stairway like this against a crowd.”

“I do not want to hurt more of these,” answered Havelok, looking round him. And then his eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Why, we can keep them back easily enough, after all.”

He went to the tower corner, and shouted to the men below. Four or five had the heavy log that they were to use as a ram, and they were just about to charge the door with it, and no timber planking can stand that sort of thing.

“Ho, men,” he cried; “set that down, or some of you may get hurt.”

They set up a roar of laughter at him as they heard, and then Havelok laid hold of the great square block of stone that was on the very corner of the wall, and tore it from its setting.

“Odin!” said Biorn, as he saw that, “where do they breed such men as this?”

“Here,” answered Withelm, looking at the sheriff.

Now Havelok hove up the stone over his head, and a sort of gasp went up from the crowd below. One saw what was coming, and ran to drag back the men with the beam, and stopped short before he reached them in terror, crying to them to beware. But their heads were down, and they were starting into a run.

“Halt!” cried Havelok, but they did not stay. “Stand clear!” he shouted in the sailor’s way.

And then he swung the stone and let it go, while those who watched fled back as if it was cast at them. Down is crashed on the attackers, felling the man whom it struck, and dashing the timber from the grasp of the others, so that one fell with it across his leg and lay howling, while the rest gathered themselves up and got away from under the tower as soon as they might.

Now no man dared to come forward, and that angered Havelok.

“Are you going to let these two bide there?” he said. “Pick the poor knaves from under the stone and timber, and see to them.”

But they hung back yet, and he called them “nidring.”

Thereat two or three made a step forward, and one said, “Lord, let us do as you bid us, and harm us not.”

“You are safe,” he answered, and Biorn laughed and said that this was the most wholesome word that he had heard tonight.

“Lord, forsooth! Mighty little of that was there five minutes ago.”

But it was not the terrible stone throwing only that wrung this from them, as I think. They had seen Havelok in his arms, with the light of battle on his face in the broad moonlight, and knew him for a king among men.

They took the hurt men from under the tower, and then crowded together, watching us. And some man must needs loose an arrow at us, and it rang on my mail, and that let loose the crowd again. Soon we had to shelter under the battlement, but they were not able to lodge any arrows among us, for that is a bit of skill that needs daylight. Then they dared to get to the timber once more, and we saw them coming.

Havelok took his helm, and set it on his sword point, and raised it slowly above the wall, and that drew all the arrows in a moment. Then he leapt up, and tore the stone from the other corner; and again, but this time without warning, it fell on the men below, and that wrought more harm than before. But it stayed them for a time, though not so long, for now their blood was up, and the berserk spirit was waking in them. Already the third stone was poised in the mighty hands, and would have fallen, when there was a cry of, “The jarl! the jarl!” and along the path into the clearing galloped Sigurd himself, with his courtmen running behind him, and he called on the men to stay.

They dropped the beam at the command, and were silent. And Sigurd looked up at the tower, and saw who was there, and stayed with his face raised, motionless for a space. I minded how Mord had stared and cried out when first he saw Havelok, the son of Gunnar, in his war gear.

“Biorn! where is Biorn?” cried Sigurd, looking back on the crowd as if he thought he would be there.

“Here am I, jarl,” came the answer, and the sheriff looked out from beside Havelok.

“What is all this?”

“On my word, jarl, I cannot tell. Here have I been beset in my own house, and but for your guests some of us would have come off badly. There were outlanders who fell on us, and, as I think, stirred up the folk to carry on the business, telling them that we had slain ourselves, as one might say, for it was the cry that we had slain the jarl’s guests.”

“O fools, to take up the word of a chance stranger against that of your own sheriff!” Sigurd cried, facing the people.

“Nay, but the steward said so likewise,” cried some.

“Hodulf’s steward?” said the jarl suddenly; “where is he?”

“Yonder. Biorn slew him.”

“He was leading this crowd,” said Biorn from above, “tried to force his way into the tower past me, and would not be warned.”

“What of the outlanders?”

“All slain. Seven Welshmen they were.”

Then I said plainly, remembering that the jarl would have known him, “Their leader was Griffin, who came with Hodulf at the first. What brought him here, think you, Sigurd the jarl?”

But Sigurd looked round on the people, and scanned them for a long time, and at last he said, in a hush that fell when he began to speak, “Men who mind the old days, look at the man whom you have sought to kill, and say if there is that about him which will tell you why Hodulf’s men have set you on him thus.”

Then the white faces turned with one accord to Havelok, as he stood resting the great cornerstone on the battlement before him, and there grew a whisper that became a word and that was almost a shout from the many voices that answered.

“Gunnar! Gunnar Kirkeban come again!”

Then was silence, and the jarl spoke to Havelok.

“Tell us your name, and whence you come.”

“Havelok Grimsson of Grimsby men call me,” he said.

And then men knew who he was indeed, for little by little the secret had been pieced together, if not told from the king’s place, in the years that had passed. And at that there rose and grew a murmur and a cry.

“Havelok, son of Gunnar! Havelok the king!”

Then said Sigurd in a great voice, “Who is for Hodulf of us all? Let no man go hence who is for him.”

And I saw two or three men cut down then and there, and after that there was a roar of voices that called for Havelok to lead them.

“Come down, lord,” said Sigurd, unhelming and looking up.

So we went from the tower, and round Havelok the men crowded, kissing his hand and asking pardon for what they had wrought in error; and Sigurd dismounted and knelt before him, holding forth his sword hilt in token of homage, that his king might touch it.

“Only Havelok son of Gunnar dares call himself son of Grim also, and in that word all the tale is told. But I have known you from the first by the token of the ring and by this likeness. Yet I waited for you to speak, and for the time that should be best; and now that has come of itself, and I am glad.”