Now, for all the peace of this holy island there hung over it an
ever-present fear of which I learned when we spoke to Phelim
concerning the treasure which we would leave in the care of the
brethren when we went hence.
He said that it was well if we would do so, and that they would
bury it under that new shed which we had helped to build, since no
Danes would wonder at seeing newly-turned earth there.
"Moreover," he said, "if we are not here when you come for it, you
will know where it is."
He said this quietly, and as a matter of course, and I asked him in
surprise if it was likely that they would leave their island.
"Not alive," he answered; "but the Danes may spy our easily-taken
flocks at any time, and come ashore here."
"Why, they would not harm the unresisting," I said.
"Nay, but we are priests of the faith, therefore the heathen rage
against us. Already they have slain almost every brotherhood along
the shores of this land, and of Scotland. Our turn may come at any
time."
He was in no way disquieted at this terrible thought. Thereafter I
knew that to him such a death was martyrdom, and most glorious.
But Bertric listened with a troubled face, and presently, when we
were alone again, he said that he was anxious.
"I only hope that we may not have brought trouble on these good men
who have sheltered us," he said. "There was a ship which must have
seen us cast ashore here."
"We should have had her back by this time if she meant seeking us."
"It is not her whom I fear," he answered. "This ship of ours was
too precious for Heidrek to let go easily. So soon as that fog
cleared, and he found we were not ahead on the Norway shore, he
would put about. He knew that we must be undermanned, being so
close to us. Then he would get back to where he lost us, and
thereafter would guess the only course we could have taken, for the
matter of handling the sail would settle that. We could not have
gone far ere the wind dropped. Then supposing he picked up our
mast?"
"Unlikely enough," I said. "We are raising trouble for ourselves."
Bertric shook his head. "I know Heidrek only too well. He may spend
this season in hunting for the treasure which he so nearly had.
News of a wreck flies fast, and he has but to touch here and there
on our track or thereabout to hear of us sooner or later."
Now, I did not trouble much more about this, but it bided in
Bertric's mind, and made him restless. That third day passed
without sign from the mainland, as was likely, seeing that the
fishers had to reach the king. It would have been of no use for us
to take the boat and cross, for Dalfin told us that we needs must
have horses, and maybe a guard when we would go to his place, which
was a long day's ride from the shore. We were well cared for here,
and it was a pleasant place wherein to wait.
In the evening the old superior sent for us again, and sitting once
more in the sheltered glen, he taught us, taking up his tale where
we had left it, after making me speak the old tongue of his youth
to him for a little while. He was a wonderful teacher, clear and
patient, and it would have been strange if we had not learned from
him.
Yet I cannot say that I seemed to learn much. I clung to the old
faith of my fathers, and that was not wonderful. But Gerda learned,
and loved all that she heard. I had to turn the words of the
teacher into the homely Norse for her, and her questions were many
and eager.
Somewhere about midnight thereafter, Bertric woke with a start
which roused me, so that I sat up and asked what was amiss.
"I do not know," he answered; "but it lies on my mind that somewhat
has happened, or is to happen. Somewhat evil."
"The last talk of Heidrek has raised fears in your mind," I said.
Then across the stone-framed window came a flare of red light, and
we both sprang to our feet and went to the door. Dalfin stirred,
but did not wake. And when we were in the open all was still in the
moonlight round us, but on the mainland every hill inland to the
westward was tipped with the flame of beacon fires, newly lighted.
That which had waked Bertric, as one may suppose, with its first
flash, was set on the hill over the fishers' village, whence we
were to look for the signal to tell us to be ready for departure.
It had been just lighted, and blazed up fiercely as we stood
outside the cell. Five minutes later another fire answered it to
the eastward, and again beyond that a third, and fourth, one after
the other, as men saw the glare.
"Foes landing to the westward," said Bertric. "The fires run
thence. Maybe the ship we saw went down the coast and has
returned."
Now we woke Dalfin, who came out yawning, and looked.
"Danes, I suppose," he said carelessly. "That is the usual trouble;
or else Connaught men on the raid. Well, as we cannot get at them,
we need not trouble concerning them. And they cannot reach us."
"The fires sprang up quickly as if men watched by them tonight,"
said Bertric. "Some enemy was looked for."
"You have seen the like before then?" asked Dalfin.
"Not once or twice. And for the same reason--the Danes."
"Have you fought with them?"
"I was at my own place when we beat them off once."
So we stood and watched the fires until they twinkled as far as we
could see to the eastward. Westward the hill, as I have said, cut
off sight of both cliffs and open sea, but over it was the glow in
the sky of far-off beacons.
Fergus came out of the chapel, and I heard him give a little cry as
he saw the fires. Then he came to us, seeing us in the moonlight,
which was bright.
"No need to fear, my sons," he said in his still voice. "Many a
time I have seen those fires before, and doubtless shall see them
again. The trouble may be far off, and of little account. Sleep in
peace."
We turned in again, but sleep was broken until daylight came, and
we were astir with the first gleam of sun across the door. It was a
bright morning, with a steady sea breeze from the northeast, and
every promise of the fine weather that comes withal in the summer.
On the hills the smoke of the war beacons still rose and drifted,
but there was no sign of stir at the foot of the glen on the
mainland where the fishers had their haven, such as it was.
The brethren came from their cells, looked at the black smoke
wreaths, and sighed, and went their ways into the chapel for the
matins, and the little bell rang. Then Gerda came from her cell and
saw us, for she, too, was early wakeful here in the quiet.
"Why are you looking so troubled? she asked us, as we bade her good
morrow. Her eyes went from one to the other in some dismay, for I
dare say we showed that the night had been unquiet for us.
"There seems to be some trouble on the mainland," I answered.
"There are beacon fires yonder, but the brothers think little of
them. They are not unusual here from all accounts."
"By no means," said Dalfin. "And they may mean little. At the most,
we may be kept waiting here for a day or two longer while my father
gathers men and goes to see what is amiss. Now I have a mind to ask
the hermits to call the fishers and let me cross and help, if so be
there is fighting on hand.
"You would come also, would you not?" he asked, looking at us two.
"Hardly," Bertric answered, before I could do so in the same word.
"Why not?"
"It is not to be supposed that we could leave our charge," he
answered.
"Forgive me; I forgot," said Dalfin at once.
But even that word had made Gerda pale with the thought that she
might be left alone, with the fear of our not returning for her.
She smiled at Bertric as he answered, and then asked if we should
not follow the brothers into the chapel, as we were told we might
do at any time, though this first service was not one for which she
and I might stay all the while.
So we went in, and there bided while we might. Presently we two had
to rise up and leave the place, unwillingly, so far as Gerda was
concerned. Phelim and I between us had told her the words of the
service.
Now we walked away together toward the shore, and were silent for a
time. It was plain that she thought deeply on somewhat. At last she
said sadly:
"What is to come is all dim and unknown, but if it does come to
pass that I may ever have home of my own again, I would that there
was one of these brothers to teach me and mine."
"That might easily be," I answered.
"They would not go to a heathen land?" she said in surprise.
"Maybe not these hermits, but some man like to them would. I have
heard them talk of men who are held in the greatest honour because
they have dared to do so."
Thereafter she said nothing, but in her face grew a great content.
We came to the shore and looked on the bare timbers of the wreck,
and with all my heart I would that they were not quite so plain to
be seen. The tides were slack now, and the water did not hide them
in the least, even at the full flood. Moreover it was calm enough.
"Malcolm," she said presently, "do you and Bertric want to go with
the prince and see if there is fighting?"
She looked in my face quickly and half turned away, and I wondered
what she was thinking. For a moment I had a foolish thought that
mayhap she expected us to be full of longing for the weapon play,
and that to please her I might say somewhat which would tend that
way. But I bethought myself and answered her frankly:
"I must speak for myself," I said; "but I think it will be the same
with Bertric. I have no mind to meddle with the affairs of another
man until I am sure that he needs my help. I cannot say that I do
not like a fair fight when there is good reason for it; but there
is no wisdom or courage in going out of the way to seek for one."
So I laughed, and she laughed also, as relieved.
"I feared lest I held you back from the game you love," she said.
"If we were alone--" I said, and there stopped, for I had said too
much. No doubt if she had not been here we should have been off
with Dalfin at once with light hearts.
"Then I do stay you," she said, catching my meaning.
Whereon it came to me that I had better say what I meant outright.
"We need no better reason for staying. That we have you to care for
is good, and in that care is more honour to us than we might win in
fighting in a quarrel which is not ours."
"Little honour can you win here, Malcolm," she said half sadly, and
yet smiling. "Yet I know what you mean, and I thank you both."
Now, a thought which had been growing up in my heart for these many
days came to the surface, as it were, and I had almost spoken it. I
knew that if this charge were taken from me I should be lonely
indeed, and that it were honour enough for me to care for and guard
Gerda through all my life as the one thing that I could care for. I
think that it would have been strange if this had not come to me in
these long hours of companionship with her, seeing what she was in
all respects, whether as she stood here on the windy shore with her
fair hair tossed by the sea breeze, fair and full of health and
life, or as I had seen her on the decks of the doomed ship, brave
and steadfast, with the cruel terror of the pirates on her.
But here and now I could say nothing of this that was so near to
me. I had naught to offer her but my poor presence, no future, and
no home. And maybe there were long days of companionship and
service due from me, and I would not that there should be the least
thing said to mar the ease with which that went so far. One can be
wise at times, when the comfort of another is in the balance, as it
were.
Moreover, how could I tell that some of her longing for home might
not be also from pain of separation? And that was now no happy
thought to me. Well, I must wait and find out all that. If it was
in my power that longing should be stilled, and then I might know
the best and worst of all that might lie before me.
Thoughts like these do not grow up all at once as I have set them
down. At this time they seemed to gather from the many times they
had passed through my mind, and rank themselves against my words.
So it came to pass that I was silent, and was glad presently that
so I had been.
"Look!" said Gerda suddenly, pointing out to the far eastward,
"yonder are sails on the skyline."
Far off they were, but plain enough under the morning sun. Two
white specks on the blue circle's edge, sails of ships which sailed
westward, as if beating to windward in long boards against the
northeast breeze. They might be Norse vessels from Dublin on their
way homewards, though it had been more easy for such to wait a
slant from the south or west.
"They cannot be the ships which have caused the firing of the
beacons," I said. "That trouble was to the westward."
I half turned to look at the hills and their fires, and saw our
comrades coming to us. Dalfin was ahead, and plainly excited.
"Malcolm," he cried, so soon as he was within hearing, "I cannot
hold back if there is fighting in our land. Will you two take the
boat there and set me across to the mainland?"
I suppose that he had talked of this to Bertric as they came, for
the Saxon nodded to me.
"It will but take half an hour," he said. "Moreover, if we cross we
may learn what is amiss. What says the queen?"
"If the prince must go," she said, "I do not see how I can stay
him. I can sit and watch you there and back, and cannot feel
lonely. But need he go?"
"Faith," said Dalfin, laughing, "can a prince of Maghera sit still
when the fires are burning yonder to call him? That would be a
shame to him, and a wonder to his folk. I must go."
His eyes shone, and it was plain that even had we wished to do so,
we could not stay him. The place of the prince was with his men,
and he would return for us. Gerda smiled at his eagerness, and bade
him hasten to return, and so we went to where the boats lay in the
sand hills.
The larger had all her gear in her as we left it, and the smaller,
which was meant for three only, had but her oars. We took this
latter, as it was easy to get her to the water, and she was all we
needed.
"Go and get your arms," I said to Dalfin. "We will pull round and
meet you at the rock where the fishers landed."
"Hurry, then," he said, and went his way to the cells in all haste.
More slowly Gerda followed him, and we pushed off and bent to the
oars. There was little sea, and we went swiftly from the open round
the eastern point of the island and into the strait.
Now I pointed out the distant sails to Bertric, but he had already
seen them.
"I do not rightly make out what they are yet," he said; "but I do
not think them Danish. Honest Norse traders from Dublin, most
likely."
It was at the time of the slack water at the top of high tide now,
and we found Dalfin and Gerda waiting with Phelim and another of
the brothers at the flat rock. At the first sight I thought the
prince had changed his mind, and would stay, as if Gerda had
over-persuaded him. For he stood there bare headed, and without
mail or shield, though he had the axe and sword which Gerda had
given him, and the great torque was on his neck.
"Where is the mail?" I asked, as we steadied the boat by the rock.
"Waiting my return," he answered. "Today I am an Irish
prince--tomorrow the queen's courtman again, if she will.
"Now farewell, fathers."
He bent his knee to the priests, and then bowed over Gerda's hand
as he kissed it in parting.
"Forgive me, queen," he said. "The call of Eirinn must take me from
you for a time. It cannot be denied by me."
"Come back soon, and as a victor, and you will be forgiven," she
answered, laughing, and he stepped into the boat.
Then as he put off she sat down on a rock with the brethren behind
her, to watch us, and we saw her wave her hand in farewell.
"Concerning the arms, or the want thereof," said Dalfin presently.
"Our folk hold that a warrior should need naught but his weapons,
and that mail or shield are but cowardly devices. So I have had to
leave them, though I am not of that mind myself. Moreover, I shall
be likely to find a long tramp across the hills before me
presently, and I have no mind to be set on by my own people as a
wandering Dane, for the sake of wearing outland arms to please
myself."
It was not a quarter of an hour before we were alongside the little
tottering landing stage which the fishers had built for themselves
of the ribs of some wreck at the foot of their glen. Some of the
children who swarmed in the village of huddled turf huts caught
sight of us first, and fled, yelling. Out of the huts came their
mothers in all haste to see what ailed them, and they too saw and
shrieked.
Whereon the men came running, each with a long-handled axe in his
hand, as if caught up from close by where each had been working.
Though they were wild and short of stature they were wiry and
active men, who might be good warriors if well led.
Dalfin leapt ashore and called to them, and they knew him,
welcoming him with a yell of delight, and crowding to do him noisy
homage. There were ten or fifteen of them, and it was some time
before the prince had a chance to make himself heard. When he
could, he called for the head man of the place, and one, with
fiery-red hair and beard, came and knelt before him to hear his
commands, while the rest drew back and stared, in a half circle. As
for us, we waited in the boat and laughed.
"What are all these beacon fires about?" asked Dalfin shortly.
"Danes in the river Bann, lord," the head man said.
"Have they landed yet?"
"No, lord. They wait for ransom they have demanded. If it comes
not, they will burn and harry all Ulster."
"How many ships, then?" asked Dalfin, on hearing that threat.
"Two ships, lord, and great ones."
The prince laughed at the man.
"What, burn all Ulster with two shiploads of men? That is a great
boast which we shall not care for. Where is my father, the
king--and where is the muster?"
The man told him that the king was at some place or other, with the
mustering warriors. Thereat Dalfin bade the man get him a horse at
once, and the fisher threw up his hands and said that there was
never a horse within ten miles. Dalfin laughed and spoke to us.
"Just what I thought," he said. "If I get to the muster by sunset I
shall be lucky, unless I meet with a horse on the way. And--I am
out of condition with these long days on board ship."
He groaned, and we bade him wait till he was sent for; but that he
would not hear.
"I shall take a dozen of these knaves as guard--and maybe to carry
me betimes. Wish me luck, for I must be going."
Now the wild fishers had been whispering among themselves, and one
of them made up his mind to tell somewhat. He came and knelt before
Dalfin, and asked him to forgive him.
"What for?" asked the prince.
"For telling foolishness," answered the man. "Yet I think it should
be told with the rest of the news."
"Tell it, then."
"I spoke with the man who carried the gathering cry, and he said
that the evil Lochlannoch, concerning whom are the beacons, have
bidden men give up the treasure which they say we must needs have
won from a certain wreck. There has been no wreck, lord, save
yours, and the prince will ever have treasure."
Now a sudden heat of rage seemed to fall on Dalfin, and he cried
aloud to the men:
"Hearken, fools! It is not to be said that the prince was wrecked
like a fisher churl. There has been no wreck--if there has been,
there was no treasure. Mind you that."
"Lord," said the man, trembling, "I cannot tell if aught was told
the Lochlannoch. We have said naught to them, not having seen
them."
"Dalfin," I said, with a great chill on me, "ask if they know the
name of the leader of these men."
He changed colour, for I think that the knowledge of what I feared
came to him in a flash. He asked, and the man at his feet muttered
what was meant for the name of Heidrek. He said it once or twice,
stammering, but I knew it, and Bertric caught it also.
"What is it that the man says?" he asked quickly. He had been
content to wait until presently to hear what the news was, until
this came to his ears.
"What you feared," I answered. "Heidrek treasure hunting."
Dalfin turned to us now, and his face was troubled.
"Malcolm," he said, "you have heard all this. It is a mere chance
if Heidrek has not heard of the wreck by this time. Now, it will be
best for you to bring Gerda across here at once, and so let these
men take you to a hiding in the hills. I will come back swiftly
with men and horses and take you thence. Make the hermits come
also, if you can--but they will not."
Then he spoke to the fishers and told them that they had to do
this, at the same time bidding some get provender and be ready to
go with him instantly. That pleased them well enough, and a dozen
ran to the huts to find what was needed. I heard the women scolding
them.
"Farewell, friends," he said, coming alongside again, and taking
our hands with a great grip. "I left Ireland to find adventure,
and, faith, I have not been disappointed. Now, the sooner I am away
the sooner I will be back."
"Good luck to you," we cried; and he shouted for his ragged men,
and was away up the glen.
Behind the little straggling crowd the women came out and wept and
howled as if not one would be back again. It was their way of
sending their men off in good spirits, I suppose. Not that the men
heeded the noise at all, being used to it. One looked back and
grinned.
The few men left lingered on the shore, and I called one to me.
"We shall be back here shortly with the young queen," I said. "You
will be ready for us."
"As the word of the prince bade us," he answered. "It will be
done."
We pulled away, and it was time. The falling tide was setting
westward through the strait, and we had to row more or less against
it now as we crossed to where Gerda's white dress shone on the
farther shore.
"Heidrek will not risk a landing," Bertric said. "The sooner we are
back here with Gerda the better. He has heard of that wreck."
I told him the words of the fishers, and he was the more sure of
it. We pulled on the faster therefore, and the light boat flew as
only a Norse-built boat can fly.
Bertric was in the forward rower's place, steering, and now and
again he turned his head to set the course. I suppose we had
covered half the distance across, when I heard him draw in his
breath sharply.
"Holy saints," he said, "look yonder!"
He was staring toward the westward mouth of the strait, half a mile
away. There was a long black boat there, and the sun sparkled on
the arms of the men in her. They were rowing slowly against the
tide, toward us.
"Too late," said Bertric between his teeth. "That is Heidrek
treasure hunting, and we shall not get back to the mainland."