"No, not to-night, not to-night."
"Ay, to-night," he said. "But before we part you must hear of one deed that haunts me even now, though they were but heathens whom I slew."
"The burning at Laxafiord?" she whispered.
"Who has not heard of that burning?" he cried. "The flames leapt higher than the pine trees, the women shrieked--I hear them now!"
He paused, and she pressed his hand the tighter.
"Father!" she said softly, "father!" But he paid no heed to her, for his mind had begun to wander, and he talked wildly to himself.
"Death-doomed I am. Have mercy upon my soul! ......Ay, the wind blows, a stormy day for fishing, and the flames are leaping--I see them leap! St. Ringan save me!......A Christian man, I tell thee...... spare not, spare not! Smite them to the last man!"
Then he fell silent, and she laid her free hand upon his brow, while outside the wind eddied and sang mournfully round the cell.
At last his mind cleared again, and he spoke coherently though very feebly.
"I am dying, Osla; fare thee well! The box--you know the box?"
"The steel-bound box?" she answered.
"Ay, steel-bound, "tis steel-bound indeed. I took it--"
He had begun to wander again, but with a last effort he collected his thoughts and went on,--
"Open it. There is a writing. Read, it will tell--promise--I can speak no more."
"I promise," she replied, hardly knowing what she said, her heart was so full.
There was another brief silence, and then loudly and clearly he cried,--
"Bring up my banner! Forward, Thord"s men! Forward!......They fly!......They fly!"
The voice died away, and Osla was left alone.
CHAPTER IX.
THE MESSAGE OF THE RUNES.
The story must now come back to Norway. Though Estein had returned with neither spoil nor captives, the tale of Liot"s capture and the combat on the holm added much to his renown, and no fewer than six skalds composed lengthy poems on the adventure. There seemed no reason why the hero of these lays should shrink from talking of his expedition, and avoid, so far as he could, the company of men.
Gradually strange rumours began to spread. Helgi, who alone knew the truth, held his peace for Estein"s sake, even when the ale flowed most freely. The others who had sailed with them laid no such restraint on their tongues, and stories of a spell and an Orkney witch, vague and contradictory, but none the less eagerly listened to and often repeated, went the round of the country. The king at last began to take alarm, and one day he called Earl Sigvald to him and talked with him alone.
"What rede can you give, jarl?" he said; "a strange witchcraft I fear has been at work. When a young man smiles but seldom, broods often by himself, and shuns the flagon and the feast, there is something more to be looked for than a loss of men and ships, or the changefulness of youth."
"Get him a wife," replied the earl. "He has been single too long.
There is no cure for spells like a pair of bright eyes."
But when the king spoke to his son, he found him resolutely opposed to marriage. Hakon loved him so dearly that he forbore to press the matter, and again he consulted Earl Sigvald.
"If he will not marry, let him fight," answered the earl. "For a prince of the race of Yngve, the clash of arms cures melancholy better than a maid."
So with the coming of spring Estein cruised in the Baltic, and carried the terror of his arms far into Finland and Russia. Yet he returned as moody as before.
At feasts his spirits sometimes rose to an extraordinary pitch.
For the time he would be carried away as he had never been before.
He would sing, jest, and quarrel; but his jests were often bitter, and his quarrels gave rise to more talk than his gloom, for before he had been of an even and generous temper. And when the fit pa.s.sed away he was quieter than ever.
One day he was out hunting on the fells with Helgi. They were oftener together than ever, and his foster-brother had far more influence with him than any other man.
They stood on a desolate hillside a little above the highest pine woods, examining the tracks of a bear, when Helgi suddenly turned to him and said,--
"Do you not think, Estein, you have moped and mourned long enough?"
"They whom the G.o.ds have cursed," replied Estein, "have little cause for laughter. What is there left for me on this earth?"
"To prove yourself a man; to accept the destiny you cannot alter; and in time, Estein, to be a king. Are these things nothing?"
Helgi seldom spoke so gravely, and Estein for a time stood silent.
Then he exclaimed,--
"You are right, Helgi; I have acted as a beaten child. Henceforth I shall try to look on my fate, I cannot say merrily, but at least with a steady eye."
As another winter pa.s.sed, he gradually seemed to come to himself.
He was sadder and more reserved than of yore, but the king saw with joy that the gloom was lifting. One day in the season when spring and winter overlap, and the snow melts by day and hardens again over-night, Earl Sigvald returned to Hakonstad from his seat by a northern fiord. King Hakon greeted him cheerfully.
"The spell is lifting, jarl," he said; "Estein is becoming himself again."
"That is well, sire," replied the earl; "and my old heart lightens at the news. But I have other tidings that need your attention. I have brought with me Arne the Slim, your scatt-gatherer in Jemtland. The people there have slain some of his followers, forced him to fly for his life, and refused to pay scatt to a Norse king. There is work ahead for some of our young blades."
"They shall see that my arm is longer than they deem," replied the king grimly.
Arne told his tale in the great hall before all the a.s.sembled chiefs, and the king"s face darkened with anger as he listened.
Every now and then, as he spoke of some particular act of treachery, or of his hardships and hurried flight, an angry murmur rose from his audience, and a weapon here and there clashed sternly. Estein alone seemed unmoved. He stood listlessly at the back, apparently hardly hearing what was going on, his thoughts returning despite himself to their melancholy groove. All at once he heard himself addressed, and turning round saw a stranger at his side. The man was holding out something towards him, and when he had caught Estein"s eye, he said respectfully,--
"I was charged to give this token to you, sire." Estein looked at him in surprise, and taking the token from his hand, glanced at it curiously.
It was a stave of oak, about two feet long, and shaped with some care. Along one side an inscription was carved in Runes, and as he read the first words his expression changed and he spelt it keenly through. The whole writing ran: "An old man, a maiden, and a spell. Come hither to Jemtland."
He turned sharply to the man and asked,--
"How came you by this? Who sent it to me?"
"That last I cannot answer," replied the man. "This only I know, that the night before the Jemtland people attacked us, a man came to the door of the house where I lodged, and giving me this said, "Fly, war is afoot," and with that he left as suddenly as he came.
I aroused my master Arne, and one or two more, and thanks to the warning, we escaped the fate of our comrades. That is all I can tell you."
The message made a sharp impression on Estein"s mind. "An old man, a maiden, and a spell," he repeated to himself. He racked his brains, but he could think of no one in that remote country who would be likely to send such a message. It seemed to him to have an almost supernatural import, and again he said to himself, "An old man, a maiden, and a spell." Then suddenly he took a resolution, and turning from the messenger stepped into the crowd who surrounded the king.