many words would the Arab allow them; and for days they had to be content to watch the hermit as he slept. Leaving them some quieting draughts of medicines, and telling them the end would be soon, the Arab parted from them to return to his home.
One evening the hermit seemed to be better. He called Thorgills and Eogan to his side. His voice was clear and his eyes were full of intelligence. The scald was overjoyed. “Thou wilt live!” he cried, “and we will go home to our own land together, even as we went from Ireland, in the days when we first knew Sir Eogan here. Thou, my King, shalt come into thy kingdom again. Norraway shall be thine.”
The hermit smiled sadly, looking at the scald and at the Irish chief affectionately. Taking Thorgills’ hand, he said with gentle emphasis: “Nay! my faithful scald, we will journey no more together. Thou wilt return to Norway to thy young wife, and thou wilt live to aid the cause of Christ. When I spoke to the Father of Christendom at Rome, my heart was lifted up; and I did promise him to take up my sword and join the Christian princes to save the Holy Tomb of Christ. But now my sword is sheathed forever; for death holds the scabbard. Nay! nay! Thorgills, thou dost seem as tearful as any maiden; and Sir Eogan here, who hath so gallant a renown on the field with warriors, his eyes do seem as April heavens, so blue and so full of falling drops. Nay, friends! Do ye love the rough viking so strongly? Now I go on the
