PARLEY
Cormac was hot and fierce. “Berse,” he said, “you have behaved falsely
to me, who never did you any harm.”
“Not a bit of it,” said Berse.
“But I say that you have. Stangerd was my plighted wife, and all the
country knew it. This wedding was done without my knowledge and against
her will--and you have betrayed us.”
Berse looked away from him into the sky. There was a queer light in
his eyes, as if he saw strange birds flying, and was more amused than
curious about them.
“All this,” he said, “is very wild talk; but I understand you. You had
better tell me what it is you want--seeing the deed is done.”
Cormac mastered himself, and spoke as coolly as he could, but in a
carrying voice. “I am come to have Stangerd back again, and ransom of
the affront.”
Berse looked now at his friend Thord Arndisson, who was by him. He
nodded his head two or three times, and had the same gleam of amusement
in his eyes.
“Fine talk,” he said, “brave talk, but----” He gave up the attempt.
Whatever was the use of talking like this?
Thord Arndisson spoke.
“Cormac,” said he, “when you are cooler you will see that you are
asking outlandish things. Now let us be reasonable. Berse here acted
as his right was, knowing nothing of you or your affairs. What he was
told, that he understood; and it was that a day was fixed for the
marriage, and that you did not come, but instead of you, your brother
Thorgils came with the news that he could not find you; and ‘Maybe
he is abroad,’ he said. Now I offer you terms on behalf of Berse; but
certainly Berse keeps the woman.”
Berse said: “Cormac, there is no question of Stangerd going back with
you. That I shall never agree to, nor will she, as you will find if you
ask her. Instead of her, I will give you my sister Hilda for a wife.
She is here in the house, and you can go and look at her. But if you
get her, you will be very well married, in my opinion. I can’t say
fairer for you than that.”
Cormac stood frowning and biting his cheek. He was looking at the house
for any sign of Stangerd, but the door was shut, and there was nothing
to see.
Thorgils thought very well of Berse’s offer. “It is very fair,” he
said, and then to Cormac: “Let us talk about this, Cormac.”
Just then a woman called out from the throng behind the two brothers:
“Do no such folly, Thorgils.” And then she stepped out from the
company. She was a woman called Thordis, who lived at Spaewife’s Fell.
“Out on it,” she said sharply. “Don’t you be trickt by them. That
woman is a fool; and you expect a fine man like Cormac to take to her?
Madness, Cormac!”
Thord Arndisson was much put out. “Get back with you, witch-wife.” He
turned to Cormac, saying: “I tell you that Hilda will turn out a wonder
of the world.”
Cormac said, “She may burn the world out for aught I care. She will
never burn me.”
Thorgils would have urged him again; but now Cormac could hear no voice
but his own. He confronted Berse.
“Berse,” he said, “there is but one thing to do. I challenge you to
wager-of-battle in fifteen days at the Leet-holm.”
At this place Berse had fought many and many a wager out.
“I know the way to Leet-holm very well,” he said; “better than you do,
I expect. I will be there, don’t doubt me; but I take leave to tell you
that there is less joy for you at Leet-holm than there may be here in
Sowerby if you choose for it.”
“But I don’t choose,” said Cormac, and made to go by him towards the
house. Thord Arndisson went after him.
“Where are you for?” he called out. Cormac stopped, and turned full
round to face him and Berse.
“I am going into Berse’s house, to see Stangerd. Are you for stopping
me?”
Thord said to Berse: “Do you hear that?”
“I do,” said Berse.
“Is he to go in?”
“Why not?” said Berse.
Cormac by this time was half-way to the house. Berse’s men made a road
for him. He went to the door, shook the latch, and gave a kick with his
foot which sent it flying open.
The great hall was set for a feast, and the women were still about the
tables. Hilda was there, and Stanvor also; but not Stangerd.
Cormac asked for her. Hilda looked doubtfully about her; but Stanvor
was not at all afraid.
“You will find her in the Bower,” she said, and went on with her
business.
* * * * *
Cormac went into the Bower. Stangerd rose up. She wore her golden
wreath, and was very quiet. She said nothing, and they looked at each
other for a while.
Then Cormac went to her and put a hand on either shoulder.
“You could not wait for me, my dear,--and now I am too late.”
She would not look up. “I should have waited if I could,” she said;
“but you kept me too long.”
He said, “Had I kept you a thousand years, that would not have cooled
my love. You told me that you were steadfast.”
“So I am,” she said.
“You should have come with me when I called you,” he said. “I told you
long ago how I would have wedded you. You should have come into my arms
then and there, and I would have carried you away--but you have chosen
differently.”
She said: “I have not chosen at all.”
“No more reproaches,” said Cormac, “between you and me. I shall never
give you up. You are my love. But I will do you no wrong.”
She was more moved than he was, though she stayed very quiet under his
hands. She did not raise her head to look at him, nor did he ask her.
For a little time longer they remained standing so together; and then
he shook his head suddenly and left her.
Presently Stanvor Slimlegs came into the Bower and moved about Stangerd
where she still stood in mid-floor.
Then Stanvor came near her, and said: “Listen, Stangerd. I love Berse,
and shall not leave him unless you force me.”
“I shall not force you,” said Stangerd.
“He does not care for me in the way of marriage, or he could have
married me when he chose. And you care little for him, I fancy. The
world is a strange one for women. I would give all I have to be where
you will be to-night, and you, I suppose, would give the same for my
place.”
“No, I would not,” said Stangerd. “I would keep what I have if I could.”
“You would keep it for Cormac?”
But Stangerd said, “Cormac will never have anything of mine.”
They stood near together, these two, looking out of window. Words
seemed upon the edges of their lips, which might have been winged if
they had gained utterance. Stanvor always looked like that, as if
she was full of sayings which she could not frame into speech. She
seemed to be worn thin and fine with the burden of what she wanted to
declare. Stangerd was silent also. She was deeply despondent, and had
not, perhaps, any desire to unbosom herself. They stood so for quite
a long time, looking out at the dusk gathering about the folds of the
mountain.