FOR DEAR LOVE'S SAKE
He alone knows,
Who wanders wide
And has much experienced,
By what disposition
Each man is ruled
Who common sense possesses.
Ha'vama'l
The first night out was a moonless night, that shut down on the world of
waters and blotted out even the clouds and the waves that been company
for the solitary vessel. The little ship became a speck of light in a
gulf of darkness, an atom of life floating in empty space. Under the
tent roofs, by the light of flaring torches, the crew drank and sang and
amused themselves with games; but beyond that circle, there was only
blackness and emptiness and silence.
Sigurd gazed out over the vessel's side, with a yawn and a shiver
combined. "It feels as though the air were full of ghosts, and we were
the only living beings in the whole world," he muttered.
A tow-headed giant known as Long Lodin overheard him, and laughed
noisily, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the deck where
Leif's eagle face showed high above their heads.
"_His_ luck could carry us safe through even the world of the dead," he
reassured him.
But Rolf paused in his chess game to throw his friend a keen glance.
"The Silver-Tongue has been one not apt to speak womanish words," he
said, gravely. "Something there is on your mind which disturbs you,
comrade."
Sigurd pulled himself together with an attempt at his usual careless
laugh. "Is it your opinion that I am the only person who is thinking of
ghosts to-night?" he parried. "Look yonder at Kark, how he fears to turn
his back on the shadows, lest the Evil One overtake him! It is my belief
that he would like it better to die than to venture into the dark of the
foreroom."
Following his glance, they beheld the bowerman, leaning against the mast
with a face as pale as a toadstool. When a sailor threw a piece of dried
fish at him, he jumped as though he had been struck by a stone. Rolf's
gentle smile expanded into a broad grin, and he let himself be turned
thus easily from his object.
"Now that is true; I had not observed him before. He appears as if the
goddess Ran already had hold of his feet to pull him down under the
water. Let us have a little fun with him. I will send him to the
foreroom on an errand."
Robert of Normandy set down his drinking-horn with a sharp motion, and
Sigurd leaned forward hastily; but the Wrestler's soft voice was already
speeding his command.
"Ho there, valiant Kark-with-the-white-cheeks! Get you into the foreroom
and bring my bag of chess-men from the brass-bound box."
Kark heard the order without a motion except an angry scowl, and Sigurd
drew back with something like a breath of relief. But Rolf made a sudden
move as though to rise to his feet, and the effect was magical.
"I am going as soon as is necessary," the thrall growled. "You said
nothing of being in haste." And he shuffled over to one of the torches
to light a splinter in its flame, and pushed his way forward with
dragging feet.
Sigurd and the Norman both sprang after him.
"I tell you, Rolf, I have something against this!" Sigurd stormed, as
the Wrestler's iron hand closed upon his cloak. "My--my--my valuables
are in the same chest. I will not have him pawing them over. Let me go,
I say!" He managed to slide out of his cloak and dodge under Rolf's arm.
A spark of something very like anger kindled the Wrestler's usually mild
eyes; he caught the Norman around the waist, as the latter tried to pass
him, and swung him bodily into the air. For an instant it seemed
possible that he might hurl him over the ship's side into the ocean. But
he finally threw him lightly upon a pile of skin sleeping-bags, and
turned and hastened after the jarl's son.
Guessing that some friendly squabble was in progress, the sailors made
way for him good-humoredly, and he reached the forecastle only a moment
behind Sigurd. Kark's taper was just disappearing among the shadows
beneath the deck.
Before the pursuers could speak, the bowerman leaped back upon them with
a shriek that cut the air.
"Ran is in there! I saw her hair hanging over a barrel. It was long and
yellow. It is Ran herself! We shall drown--"
Sigurd Haraldsson dealt him a cuff that felled him like a log.
"The simpleton is not able to tell a piece of yellow fox-fur from a
woman's hair," he said, contemptuously. "Since you are here, Rolf, hold
the light for me, and I will get the chess-bag myself." He spoke loudly
enough so that the men on the benches heard, laughed, and turned back to
their amusements. Then he drew Rolf further into the room, laid a hand
over his mouth, and pointed to the farthest comer, where barrels and
piled-up bales made a screen half-way across the bow.
Hair long and yellow there was, as the simpleton had said; but it was
not the vengeful Ran who looked out from under it. Tumbled and
dishevelled, paling and flushing, short-kirtled and desperate-eyed,
Helga the Fair stood before them.
"Behold how a prudent shield-maiden helps matters that are already in a
snarl," the jarl's son said, dryly.
The Wrestler started back in consternation.
Helga dropped her eyes guiltily. "I cannot blame you for being angry,"
she murmured. "I have become a great hindrance to you."
"It is an unheard-of misfortune!" gasped Rolf. "In flying from Gilli you
have broken the Norwegian law; and by causing Leif to aid you in your
flight you have made him an accomplice. A bad result is certain."
Helga's head bent lower. Then suddenly she flung out her hands in
passionate entreaty.
"Yet I could not help it, comrades! As I live, I could not help it! How
could I have the heart to remain in safety, without knowing whether
Alwin lived or died? How could I spend my days decking myself in fine
clothes, while my best friend fought for his life? Was it to be expected
that I could help coming?" She spoke softly, half-crouching in her
hiding-place, but her heart was in every word.
Her judges could not stand against her. Rolf swore that she would have
been unworthy the name of shield-maiden had she acted otherwise. And
Sigurd pressed her hand with brotherly tenderness.
"You should know that I am not blaming you in earnest, my foster-sister,
because I grumble a little when I cannot see my way out of the tangle."
He bent over Kark to make sure that he was really as unconscious as he
seemed; then he lowered his voice nervously. "What makes it a great
mishap is that your presence doubles Alwin's risk, and because one can
never be altogether sure to what lengths Eric's son will go,--even with
one whom he loves as well as he loves you. If I could find some good way
in which to break the news to him before he sees you,--"
Helga sprang out of her niche, and stood, straight and rigid, before
them. "You shall not endanger yourself to shield me. You will feel it
enough for what you have already done. The first burst of his anger I
will bear myself, as is my right."
Before they had even guessed her intention, she slipped past them,
leaped lightly over Kark's motionless body, and delivered herself into
the light of the torches. In another instant, a roar of amazement and
delight had gone up from the benches; and the men were dropping their
games and knocking over their goblets to crowd around her.
"She has got out of her wits," Rolf said, wonderingly.
"He will kill her," Sigurd answered, between his teeth. "For half as
much cause, Olaf Trygvasson struck a queen in the face."
They followed her aft, like men walking in a dream; but between the
rings of broad shoulders they soon lost sight of her. All they could see
was the Norman's dark face, as he stepped upon a bench and silently
watched the approaching apparition.
"The Troll take him! If he cannot keep that look out of his eyes, why
does he not shut them?" Sigurd muttered, irritably.
Perhaps it was that look which Helga encountered, as she made the last
step that brought her face to face with the chief. At that moment, a
great change came over her. When the guardsman pushed back to the
extreme limits of his chair to regard her in a sort of incredulous
horror, she did not fall at his feet as everyone expected her to, and as
she herself had thought to do. Instead, she flung up her head with a
spirit that sent the long locks flying. Even when anger began to distort
his face,--anger headlong and terrible as Eric's,--her glance crossed
his like a sword-blade.
"You need not look at me like that, kinsman," she said, fiercely. "It is
your own fault for giving me into the power of a mean-minded brute,--you
who brought me up to be a free Norse shield-maiden!"
If the planks of the deck had risen against them, the men could not have
looked at each other more aghast. Her boldness seemed to paralyze even
Leif. Or was it the grain of truth in the reproach that stayed him? He
let moment after moment pass without replying. He sat plainly struggling
to hold back his fury, gripping his chair-arms until the knuckles on his
fists gleamed white.
After peering at him curiously for awhile, as though trying to divine
his wishes, his shrewd old foster-father put aside the chess-board on
which they had been playing, and hobbled over and laid a soothing hand
on the girl's arm.
"Speak you of Gilli?" he inquired. "Tell to us how he has ill-treated
you."
It was only very slightly that the pause had cooled Helga's valor.
"He has treated me like a horse that traders deck out in costly things,
and parade up and down for men to see and offer money for," she answered
hotly.
Though they knew Gilli's conduct was entirely within the law, and there
was not a man there who might not have done the same thing, they all
grunted contemptuously. Tyrker stroked his beard, with an-other sidelong
glance at his foster-son, as he said, cautiously:
"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 passage with Arnor Gunnarsson, and his ship
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 passed from his ship 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 ships 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 surpassed.
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!"