For The White Christ Part 47

The boy, eager to finger his promised reward, reached the alder thicket far in advance of the queen's maiden. But Kosru was so reluctant to part with a single penny that the boy was still begging for his due when Fastrada came up. s.n.a.t.c.hing the leech's pouch, she pressed not one but four pennies into the hand of the astonished boy, and told him to go and watch the Danish slingers. As he raced off, half mad with delight at his treasure, Fastrada turned upon the Magian with a look that made him cringe to the snow.

"Dog!" she hissed; "you 've let the Swabian escape you! Enough of your false promises! This very day I counted on for triumph; and now--"

"Pardon! grant me pardon, maiden! Have I not served you well all these days? Is it my fault that the drug loses its power when so constantly given? I am aged and weak. Overcome by weariness, I slept--"

"Where is she now?"

The leech rose a little way, and thrust out a crooked finger from his robe.

"She came here to the river-bank. Hurrying out in search of her, I spied her in the midst of the crowd. But then she followed after Count Olvir to this place, where the king's children were waiting with Count Gerold and Liutrad the Scribe."

"She made herself known to them?"

"But to none other. They disputed a little, and then all glided away down the river on the ice-shoes. The warriors carried spear and bow, as though they went to the chase."

"The king himself told me of the skating-party; only, one is gone of whom he is not aware. A lucky going for you, Magian! I may yet have time to win; she forgets all else when the ice-blades are on her feet.

She may go far before turning. Would that she might never come back!

_Ai!_ and why should she? In the bleak forest are my mother's fiends and many hungry mouths!"

The girl turned panting upon the leech, her eyes gleaming green between the narrowed lids, her scarlet lips drawn back from the strong white teeth in a cruel smile.

"Go!" she cried. "Fetch me quickly all you have of that drug which saved you from the wolf-pack in Fulda Wood."

"By the blessed Sun, maiden! what would you do?" gasped the Magian.

"I 'd win for myself power and honors, and for you, gold without stint,"

rejoined Fastrada, and her face hardened to a still more cruel look.

But the leech no longer faltered and cringed. Before his greedy eyes glittered a yellow heap,--gold without stint! gold without stint! Very humbly he salaamed to the witch's daughter, and then, bending to her gesture, limped away on his unholy sending.

An hour or so later, Count Hardrat, chancing to pa.s.s along the river-bank, suddenly found himself face to face with Fastrada. It was his first sober day since the Christmas feast, and he shrank from meeting the daughter of Rudulf after his relapse into drunkenness.

Greatly to his surprise, she greeted him not only without reproach, but even smilingly, and he readily accepted her proposal that they skate together on the river. The girl's skates already swung at her girdle, and for balancing-staff she carried a pretty silver and ivory dart, with flint tip.

Skates were soon found for Hardrat, and the couple darted out among the ice-skimmers. As they swept in a long loop beyond the regular racing-course, Fastrada drew her companion's attention to the tracks leading down the river, and dared him to attempt the overtaking of the party. Hardrat, who was a skilled skater, accepted the challenge with eagerness, and very shortly the couple were flying past the viking settlement and around the first bend of the river into the black borders of the ancient forest.

For two leagues and more the Thuringian count and the Thuringian maiden raced side by side at utmost speed, each straining with every nerve and muscle to outdo the other. At last the man, weakened by his excesses at wa.s.sail, began to lose breath. Heedless of his growing distress, the girl drove on, her eyes fixed on the narrow trail of skate-marks which she followed.

"Stay!" gasped Hardrat at last, as they swept down upon yet another bend of the river. "Slack--your pace, maiden! I can--go--no farther!"

Fastrada glanced about, frowning, at the purple-blotched face of her mate; but suddenly she seemed to slip, and a cry of pain burst from her lips. Leaning with all her weight upon one foot, she turned sharply and glided insh.o.r.e, borne on by the momentum of her swift flight. Taken by surprise, Hardrat shot past for half-a-dozen strokes. Before he could circle about and rejoin the girl, she had limped part way up the snow-covered bank, to lean against a giant oak. As Hardrat scrambled after her, she met his look of concern with a rueful face.

"Satan spit the false wood-minnes!" she cried. "They 've wrought me ill,--my ankle is wrenched."

"Holy saints! and we three leagues from aid!"

"Not so; less than two. The hut--"

"--If _she_ still lingers."

"Shelter, anyway. Yet there may be no need. Chafing and a fire might ease my hurt."

Hardrat's bloodshot eyes lighted dully.

"There are less welcome tasks than to chafe the foot of Rudulf's daughter. As to the fire, however, I carry neither flint nor tinder."

"Ah, then, yet stay! Here's the tip of my staff-spear, and for tinder, my kerchief, whose end I scorched on the coals this morning."

"A lucky chance," muttered Hardrat, and he set to gathering twigs and dry leaves from along the bank. As he bent to heap the fuel together for lighting, Fastrada crouched upon the snow, and drew from her bosom a large pouch, whose contents gave out a fetid odor. Laying the pouch openly on the snow beside her, she stared over the broad back of her companion into the depths of the leafless forest, and her face darkened with the fearful look that had terrified the Magian.

Having piled his fuel, Hardrat drew the broad knife which swung at his belt, and with the back of the blade struck a shower of sparks from the flint spear-tip into the linen kerchief. Quickly the tinder caught the sparks, and a few puffs set the smouldering cloth aflame. Fanned by a light breeze from up the river, the blaze spread with a cheerful snapping through the heap of dead limbs and pieces of driftwood.

Hardrat took note how the smoke, instead of rising, drifted away between the tree-trunks and over the ice, like morning mist.

"See how the smoke lies on the snow," he said. "One needs scant knowledge of woodcraft to tell that a storm is near."

"Then we should soon be hastening back," replied Fastrada, who, instead of looking at the ankle which he was chafing, was staring at the low-eddying smoke with fierce exultance. "_Ai!_" she sighed complainingly, "that was a luckless wrench! Stay your hand, though. It may chance there 'll be no need to chafe the hurt. Am I not my mother's daughter? Here is a charm stronger than the power of elf or nixie. If, in truth, my hurt is the work of some evil wood-minne, I shall soon heal it. In this scrip is a drug whose burning will force out the worst of fiends. Cast it into the midst of the flames while I speak the needed spell."

Hardrat drew away, his cheeks suddenly gone ashen.

"No! by all the saints, no!" he cried. "I 'll have no hand in your witchery. I 've seen enough of black spells in _her_ hut."

"Hero!" jeered Fastrada; and with her own hand she lifted the pouch, to scatter half its contents around her in the snow. As she threw the rest into the flames, her red lips muttered soft hissing words of the Wendish tongue, and her beautiful face was distorted with a look that sent a shudder of superst.i.tious fear through Hardrat's thick-set frame. The pungent odor sent out by the burning drug added yet more to his terror.

He stood cowering beside the fire, unable to fly, his bloated cheeks grey and mottled, and his limbs trembling visibly, as he watched the look of awful expectancy that crept into the face of the witch's daughter.

Moment after moment, the girl sat staring out after the drifting smoke-wreaths, her lips softly muttering the sibilant Wend words.

Though Karl himself had marked the Thuringian's boldness on the battlefield, the man was now like a frightened child in the dark. The strain was almost more than he could bear. His tow-white hair bristled beneath his cap; his very blood was curdling in his veins. He was on the point of crying aloud when the silence was broken by the lone howl of a wolf. Wild with terror, Hardrat sprang, about to fly. But Fastrada leaped up as he pa.s.sed and caught him by the shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with fierce joy.

"_Hei!_" she cried. "The fiend-G.o.ds are with us! Down the wind with the smoke the evil sprite has pa.s.sed, and my hurt is healed! my hurt is healed!"

"Saints s.h.i.+eld me!" stammered Hardrat, and he crossed himself. That the girl should scramble with him down the bank and out across the rough ice-edge without a trace of her sprain, by no means tended to lessen his dread.

When they gained the smooth ice, Fastrada would have paused; but Hardrat struck out at once in the face of the freshening breeze, feverishly eager to put the long leagues between him and the fumes of the magic drug. As Fastrada darted to his side, and they swept away over the level ice, they heard once more, far back in the forest behind them, that long-drawn, dismal howl; and this time the cry was caught up and repeated from the farther depths of the forest.

"Holy Mother!" gasped Hardrat. "Your spell has roused the werwolves from their lairs!"

Fastrada only smiled, and lengthened her stroke to meet the frantic rush of her companion.

Presently a bend of the river brought the wind into a more favorable quarter, and the couple raced homeward up the ice-street yet more swiftly than they had come. For a while they could hear howls in the forest depths; but as the leagues melted away beneath their skate-strokes, the dreadful sounds died out in the distance.

Still Hardrat kept on, spurred by mad terror; nor would he slacken the pace until they swept into full view of the viking settlement. At sight of the steep-roofed buildings and the shouting merrymakers in the meadows beyond, he uttered a hoa.r.s.e cry, and ceased his frantic strokes.

Borne on by his momentum, he glided forward until opposite the viking hall. Then, utterly spent, he sank down upon the ice, wheezing as though he would choke.

Fastrada circled about and came to a stand beside the over-wearied man, eying him with cold indifference. When he had gained breath a little and could listen, she bent forward and said significantly: "Let there be no talk of this skating, friend Hardrat."

"Trust me for that, witch-daughter! I 'll drown the memory at the cask's bottom!"

"It is well that your tongue does not wag with the wine. Here's gold for your wa.s.sail-fee," replied Fastrada, and, flinging a coin to him, she glided on up the river.