The Thrall of Leif the Lucky Part 28

"So? _Aber_,--how have you managed it from him to escape?"

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

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

"Do not stop there! Tell how you pa.s.sed from his s.h.i.+p into mine. Tell whom you found in Eric's Fiord who became a traitor for your gold."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"At your stupidity," Rolf laughed into his ear. "Do you not see that he believes he has found out her real motive?" As Sigurd continued to stare, the Wrestler shook him to arouse his slumbering faculties.

"Simpleton! He thinks it was for love of you that Helga fled from Norway!"

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

CHAPTER XXV

"WHERE NEVER MAN STOOD BEFORE"

Wit is needful To him who travels far: At home all is easy.

Ha'vama'l

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his neighbor mumbled uneasily, "I think it likely that this is one of the plains on which the Women who Ride at Night hold their meetings.

If it were not for the Lucky One's luck, I would prefer swallowing hot irons to coming here."

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

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

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

Valbrand had handled rebellious slaves before.

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

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

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

Each point they rounded disclosed nothing more alarming than lichened boulders and pebbly sh.o.r.e, with here a dead fish, and there a heap of s.h.i.+ning snaky kelp, and yonder a flock of startled gulls,--but who could tell what the next projection might be hiding? They walked with their fists gripped hard around their weapons, their eyes s.h.i.+fting, their ears strained, while the waves hissed around their feet and the gulls screamed over their heads.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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