I looked over my shoulder at Gerda. Her white dress seemed to shine
in the morning sun like silver against some dark bushes, and my
first fear was that it could be seen as plainly by the men in the
big boat down the strait.
"It cannot be Heidrek's," I groaned.
"I know that boat only too well," answered Bertric; "pull, if you
never pulled before."
The oars bent, and the water boiled round the blades. Bertric
headed straight across, letting the tide have its way with us. In
five minutes we were ashore a hundred yards below where Gerda sat,
and then I knew that the bushes must screen her from the view of
those who came from the sea. We leapt out and looked at the boat we
feared. The men in her did not seem to be heeding us, for, at all
events, they had not quickened their stroke. They were keeping over
on the far shore. Either they had not seen us, or took us for no
more than fishers--or else knew that they had us trapped if they
wanted us.
"Give me a lift here," said Bertric, going to a great stone which
was a load for any two men. "We must sink this boat--we have the
other, if that is any good to us."
Together we hove the great stone into the boat as it rocked on the
edge of the tide, starting a plank or two. I stove in one
altogether with an oar, shoved her off with all my might, and saw
her fill at once, and sink with the weight in her some twenty yards
from shore. She would not be seen again till dead low water. Then
we hove the oars into the bushes. Maybe it was all useless, but we
would leave nothing to be spied which might bring the men to the
island sooner than needful.
That took only a few minutes, but in them I cannot tell how many
wild plans for Gerda's safety went through my mind. Beyond the bare
chance which lay in getting to the hillside and trying to keep out
of sight of the men when they landed, there seemed to be nothing we
could do.
Now, along the little shore path came Gerda to seek us, smiling at
our haste. The boat she missed at once, and looked round for it.
"Why, what has become of the boat?" she asked. "I thought you
landed here."
Bertric looked at me, and I at him, and Gerda caught the glance.
"There is something which you fear to tell me," she said steadily.
"Let it be spoken at once, for we have faced danger together ere
this, have we not?"
"Have you not seen a large boat down the strait?" I asked lamely.
"No," she said, and was stepping forward to the edge of the water,
past the screen of low shore bushes to look, but I stayed her.
"It is the boat which we fear," I said. "There are Danes in her,
and we think they are seeking the wreck."
She looked me in the face for a moment, and read what was written
there.
"We might welcome the coming of honest Vikings," she said, "whether
Dane or Norse. They know how to befriend a woman who needs help.
These men whom you fear and who seek the wreck can only be the men
of our enemy."
Then Bertric said:
"I cannot mistake the boat which I have helped to pull so many a
weary time. It is Heidrek's. He has followed us, and has somewhere
heard of the fate of the ship. We have sunk the little boat, lest
the sight of it should bring them ashore straightway."
"Then we must hide somewhere," she said, looking round her as if to
see what place might be.
"Aye, we must hide. There will be fifteen men, or more, in the
boat. Malcolm and I cannot stay their landing."
Gerda caught her breath suddenly. "What of the hermits?" she said.
"We waste time," said I. "Come and let us tell them. They may have
some hiding place."
Then we went swiftly to the cells. Once we looked back to the
strait, from the little rise behind which the cells were sheltered,
and saw the boat still working against the tide along the far
shore. Heidrek had certainly not heard that the wreck was on the
island itself. Most likely it was thought that we had made for the
shelter of the strait, and had gone ashore in trying to reach it.
Unless the ship which we had seen knew the coast well, her crew
could hardly have told that an island was here.
There were no hermits to be seen, for they were either in their
cells, or at their tasks about the place. So I went to the first
cell and looked in, and finding it empty, went to the next. Fergus
sat there, writing in some beautiful book which he was busied with.
One never found a brother idle.
"Father," I said, "I must disturb you. There is danger at hand, I
fear."
"Ah," he answered, setting down his pen, and rising hastily. "The
Danes at last. Well, we have long expected them to come to us, as
to our brethren elsewhere. But what shall the poor queen do?"
"Is there no place where you can hide her?" I said.
"None," he answered gloomily. "Tell me more."
I told him, and he shook his head.
"Men in the narrow waters, and men in the open," he muttered.
"Hemmed in on every side."
"Danes in the open sea?" I said, with a new fear on me. The end
might be nearer than we deemed it.
"Aye, two ships sailing this way."
They were those which we had seen and forgotten. I ran out, and
while Fergus went to Bertric, climbed the little hill beyond the
village, and looked seaward. The ships were six miles away, and
heading due west, having edged somewhat farther from the shore than
when we first sighted them. They were not coming hither.
"There need be no fear of those ships, father," I said. "They are
making a passage past us--bound elsewhere at all events."
"Then," he said at once, "there lies your boat on the shore of the
open sea. Make away to the main land eastward while there is time,
and take to the hills inland. You are not likely to be followed
thither. We will give you some token which the poor folk of the
shore will know."
Now, while the hermit had been speaking, I was translating for the
other two, as was my way by this time.
"Father," cried Gerda, and I spoke her words as she said them,
"will you not fly also?"
He shook his head with a sad smile. Neither he nor any one of his
brethren would leave the place.
"We shall hide in the hill and behind it while we may," he said.
"They may not trouble to hunt us."
"The good father is right," said Bertric. "We must get away as soon
as we can. It is our one chance. I had thought of it, but was not
sure how the shore folk would greet us. Now we must hasten. Ask the
hermit to come and help us launch the boat."
Then he turned to Gerda, who stood with clasped hands waiting to
hear the end of the rapid speech.
"It is our only hope," he said again. "We must take that way,
though it is hard to leave these holy men to their fate."
Then, of a sudden, a light came into Gerda's eyes, and she flushed
as with a fresh hope.
"Those other ships!" she cried. "You said they were not Danish.
Norse or Irish, they would help us, if we could reach them!"
Bertric said never a word, but ran to the place whence he could
look out to sea, and came back with a brighter face.
"They are not Danish," he said. "I am sure thereof. And it is just
a chance that we might reach them. If they see we are in need,
there is another hope for us, for they will meet us, or heave to
for us."
Then some fear took hold of Gerda, born of the chase by Heidrek, as
I believe.
"No," she said, "rather the poor folk ashore than chance what men
we may meet at sea."
"As you will," answered Bertric. "You may be right. Now will you
gather what you must needs take, and that swiftly? Malcolm and I
will get our arms."
She went to her cell, and Fergus hurried to call his brethren. We
two went to the cell which had been given us.
"Just as well not to put them on," I said. "We have a long pull
before us, and if armed men are seen in the boat we must be
chased."
The casket of gold was under the heather pillow of my bed, and I
dragged it out. From it we took what we could stow away on us in
one way or another, and then, with our war gear bundled in our
arms, went out.
Across the strait rose a thick smoke from the foot of the glen.
Heidrek's folk were burning the wretched huts for sport. All the
fisher people would have fled at their first coming.
"They are busy now," said Bertric grimly, nodding toward the signs
of pillage. "They will be here next."
Now Gerda came with a little bundle, wrapped in her blue cloak. She
was pale, and near to weeping as she looked on the hermits, who
were coming together from their work to the black cross in the
midst of their home. The old superior caught sight of me and called
to me in his still voice.
"So you must fly, my son," he said. "I would that we had had more
speech together. Give this to the lady who has listened to me so
patiently. Now, I have bidden Fergus and Phelim to go with you.
They can row, and that well, and you need help. Aye, I ken the ways
of the boatwork well enough. You will make them go with you, for
hardly will they obey me, now at the last."
Thereat those two brethren threw themselves at the feet of the old
man, and besought him to let them bide with the rest for that crown
of martyrdom which they might gain.
"No, my sons," he said sternly, and yet lovingly; "your lives may
yet be of use. Ours are done. Now you shall win more by saving the
lives of these friends of ours who came to us in need than by
losing your own."
Then he bent toward them, and spoke rapidly in the Latin tongue,
and I saw their faces change, and they rose up. Thereafter they had
no more to say of staying, though at the time I could not tell what
the words which wrought this change might be. Without another word
they took Bertric's arms and mine and Gerda's little pack, and
started for the shore, and as they went the old man smiled as if
content. Then he bent toward us.
"Go, my children," he said; "you have no moment to waste longer. It
has been good to speak with you."
Now I set that which he had given me in Gerda's hand. It was a
little black crucifix carven of the bog oak by one of the brothers
who was skilful at that work. She took it with a flushing face.
"Malcolm," she said, "tell him that we will not forget."
So I told him, and he smiled, saying nothing in answer. I dare say
he knew that Gerda would not do so, if he had less hopes for
myself. Gerda first, and then we two in turn, bent and kissed his
thin hand, and he blessed us, and we must needs go.
Across the sand hills we went, keeping out of sight of the opposite
shore, and I looked back once and saw that the little black-robed
group was moving away up the glen. One brother was coming from the
chapel with a burden, which, no doubt, was the case containing the
holy vessels.
"Four of us to pull, and Gerda to steer," said Bertric, whose
spirits, like my own, were rising. "We should do well. These
brothers, moreover, know where we can land, which was the
difficulty I most feared. They are terrible cliff walls yonder."
"How far must we go before we can find a landing?" I asked Phelim
on this.
"Some five miles or more," he said, after a little thought. "There
is a cove and beach at the foot of a valley. The fishers took me
there once to help a sick man. I can find the place."
So it seemed that a village lay there also, which was good hearing,
for the sake of Gerda, even if it were naught but of turf huts.
Thence we could send a message to Dalfin.
Now, while we spoke thus, we were getting the boat down to the
water quickly enough between the four of us. She was very light for
her size, and we had all her gear in her already. There was room in
her for four rowers and two passengers aft, and I dare say might
have carried two more at a pinch. With the five of us she would be
in her best trim, therefore, and we might well distance a larger
boat if it was overladen at all. But the boat we fled from was not
to be seen now, even from the higher sand hills. Some rise in the
island hid her, or else she was well over to this shore.
The brothers cast off their long, black robes now, and stowed them
in the bows of the boat with our gear. They had thick woollen
tunics, like those of the fishers, under them, and their arms were
bare, and sinewy with long toil with spade and hoe, for these two
were the working brothers in field and garden.
We helped Gerda into the stern sheets, and pushed off, splashing
knee deep into the water as we ran the boat out among the waves.
Then we took our places and headed straight out to sea, across the
broken water where the reef lay still well covered, and so into the
long, steady seaway of the offing. Then we turned eastward for the
long row which was before us, and settled down to the work, Bertric
rowing the stroke oar, with myself next him, and the brothers in
the bows.
The boat travelled swiftly and easily, so that Phelim praised her
as the best he had ever known. He had come from some burnt
monastery on Lough Neagh, where the boat was in constant use,
whether for fishing or travelling to the cells round the shores.
Soon we opened up the mouth of the strait, and looked anxiously for
Heidrek's boat along the shore, whence the smoke rose still thicker
and more black from the burning turf huts of the fishing village.
It was not to be seen in that direction, and we thought for the
moment that the men had already crossed to the island, whose strand
we could not see until we were well off the mouth.
A dozen more strokes of the oars and we saw it, and were ourselves
seen at the same moment. Whether the men had caught some fisher and
had heard where the wreck lay, or whether they had seen the bare
ribs of the ship from the far shore I do not know, and it is of
little account. But whatever had led them this way, they were close
on us, pulling leisurely toward the end of the island past which we
were going, as if to round it to the wreck. They were not more than
a quarter of a mile from us, and had been hidden under the near
shore.
One of the men in her stern pointed to us, and the rowers stopped
and turned to look. Then a great hail came over the water, bidding
us hold on and wait. She was full of men, pulling five oars a side,
with six or eight in the bows and stern.
We said nothing, but held on quickly. Bertric never hastened the
long stroke he was setting us, but we put more power into it
without need of bidding. Heidrek's men watched us for a short
space, and then made up their minds to chase us, no doubt seeing
that this could only be one of the wrecked ship's boats, and making
sure that we had the treasure on board.
They ran the boat ashore hastily, and some of the men landed,
hurrying across the narrow head of the island toward the wreck,
while the rest put off again. Now there were but two men in the
stern, and the ten rowers bent to their work and were after us. We
could see that they were all armed, and the sun flashed from the
bright helms as they rose and fell at the work.
Phelim saw the men cross the island and groaned, fearing that when
they found nothing on the beach or in the sand hills they would
pass on to the village at once. But, like ourselves when we first
came ashore, they had no knowledge that a village was there, and it
was not to be seen as it nestled in its little valley. So they
bided on the shore and watched the chase as it began.
By the time that the big boat was after us in earnest, we had set a
full half mile between us and it, owing to the little delay in
landing the men. Then they hailed us again, but though we heard the
hail we paid no heed to it. So for a little while we held on, until
it was plain that the ten oars must needs wear down our four, and
then we stepped the mast and made sail, at least holding our own
under it and the oars. The northeast breeze was helping us, though
we must sail close-hauled, and my only fear was lest the pursuers
should do the same. But they had no sail with them.
Now we held on thus for a matter of two miles, and neither of the
boats seemed to gain much on the other. It began to come into my
mind that we should win after all, if only we did not tire too
soon. They had two fresh men, who could take their turn presently.
And then it came across me that even if we ran ashore before they
reached us, we should hardly have time to get away before they,
too, were on the beach. The fisher folk, if there were any huts at
the landing place, might all be away at the muster, and no aid
might be waiting us.
I know that all these things went through the mind of my comrade at
this time, and from the troubled look on the face of Gerda as she
steered, it was plain that she, too, had her doubts as to the end
of this race. Then Bertric spoke to me over his shoulder.
"We had better head seaward after all," he said. "What think you of
our chance of reaching yon ships before we are overhauled? We shall
be caught before we reach a landing, or else taken on the very
beach, as we go now."
I looked at the two strange ships. They were three miles from
shore, and perhaps at the same distance from us eastward, still
heading west and a little out to sea.
"It is our best plan," I answered. "We shall get the wind abeam,
and ought to sail away from that great boat. It may be a choice of
two evils, but one cannot well meet with another Heidrek."
"We must cut across their course and try to hail them," said
Bertric, somewhat wearily. "It all depends on how the boat sails on
the wind, and if we can keep the oars going. What say you, Queen
Gerda?"
"Do as you think best," she answered bravely. "I know how this boat
can sail, and I will answer for her. And I can see no sign of a
break in these black cliffs for many a long mile ahead."
Now Bertric turned and took a long look at the ships, and his face
was half toward me. He seemed puzzled.
"It is hardly possible," he muttered to me, "but I could almost
swear that they were English. If not, they are Frisian. But what
could have brought either into these seas? Have we taken to the
Viking path?"
"No," I answered, "the Vikings have taken them."
He gave a short laugh and bade me and Phelim lower the sail and
hoist it afresh for the new tack, while he and Fergus pulled on.
Gerda put the boat about into the wind and it was soon done. Astern
the enemy howled, thinking that we had given up, for the moment.
Then the sail filled, and the boat heeled to the breeze abeam, and
we headed out to sea, taking as wide a sweep as we could, lest we
should give the foe too much advantage in the change of course.
As it was, they seemed to gain hand over hand for a while, but they
had to pull dead to windward in following us as we went off at an
angle to the old course. Then we began to draw ahead steadily, and
they hailed us with threats which made Gerda pale somewhat, for if
we were still too far for the words to be heard there was no
mistaking them. But her faith in the boat was justified, for she
sailed wonderfully well with the beam wind. The big rowing boat
astern began to go somewhat to leeward also, with the set of wind
and wave and the tide together on her high side.
Now I glanced at the island which was lessening fast astern. I
could make out that the men were still on the beach, searching, as
it seemed, for what they might pick up of value from the wreck. The
hermits were safe so far, and I told Gerda so in a word or two, and
she smiled for the first time since we put off from shore. Her fear
for our kind hosts passed from her for the moment.
We covered a mile or more in silence after that, tugging grimly at
the oars, with a wary eye on the waves as they came. It was well
for us that they were long and even, with little way in the heads
of them. The sail, too, steadied the boat, and the hermits rowed
well and evenly. But ever astern of us those ten oars rose and
fell, unfaltering, until I grew dazed with the flash of the
steadily-swung blades. Then I looked at the iron shore, and saw the
long lines of cruel cliffs with the white foam at their feet,
seeming endless. There may have been a cove in sight, but I could
not make it out, and anywise it must have been too far for us.
Then I looked at Gerda, and saw that there was some trouble in her
face as she looked forward. Once she smiled as if to cheer the
hermit brothers, and at that I felt the lift of the boat that comes
with a fresh life set into the swing on the oar, and that told me
somewhat. Fergus was failing. Behind me, Phelim, the younger and
stronger man, was still breathing deeply and easily, and I had no
fear of his failing yet.
Then I grew certain that the enemy was gaining. We had held our own
up till this time, but barely. Gerda's lips tightened, and she had
to meet the pull of Bertric and Phelim, lest they should overpower
us. I did my best and she knew it, and kept the balance for a
while, until I must needs speak.
"Bertric," I said quietly, and in the Norse, "the bow oar is
failing. Pull easy on your side for a little."
He did so, and the enemy crept nearer.
"Half a mile more," said Gerda. "Only half a mile--and we can hail
the ships."
Bertric looked back, and his face brightened.
"We may do it yet," he said; "and they are English-built ships."
Now I cried to Phelim in the Gaelic that we had but a half mile
more, and I felt the flagging oar of Fergus take up the work
afresh, with a swifter swirl of the water round its blade as he
pulled, while Phelim muttered words in Latin which doubtless were
of thanks. I heard him name one Clement, who, as I have heard
since, is the patron saint of seamen. The boat leapt and quivered
again as she fled toward safety.
Now I had looked to see the pursuers give up the chase as we neared
the ships, but they did not, and a cold fear came over me. Maybe
these were known friends of Heidrek's. Then I thought that if so
they might as well leave the matter to be ended by them. We should
be helpless directly if so. But it seemed rather that they
quickened the pace. They would not share the treasure with anyone.
There was a sound as of a groan from the bows, and the boat swung
aside before Gerda could meet her with the helm. An oar flashed
past me on a wave, and Phelim shipped his oar with a smothered cry.
Fergus had fainted at last. I heard the sharp howl of delight from
the men astern as they saw that, but Bertric and I never ceased
pulling.
And suddenly Gerda's face lit up with a new hope, and she pointed
to the ships and cried to us to look.
"The leading ship is heading for us," she said breathlessly. "She
has just paid off from the wind and is coming swiftly."
Another moment and she cried that they had run up somewhat red to
the masthead, and at that Bertric called to me, and he ceased
pulling. He turned on the thwart and looked, and his eyes gleamed
in his pale face. Then he rose up and set his hands to his mouth,
and sent a great hail to the ship:
"Ahoy! Hakon Haraldsson, ahoy! Hakon! Hakon!"
The ship was near enough for her men to hear that. I saw a man on
her high bows lift his hand in the silent answer of the seaman who
hears and understands a hail, and I saw a red shield, blazoned with
a golden lion, at the masthead. Then Bertric sat down and laughed
as if he could not cease.
"It is Hakon, Athelstane's foster son, on the way to win Norway for
himself. Alfred taught us how to build ships like that."