so thou shalt, my son, a good long sleep. The day is done, Erling, but the darkness comes not. Yon sun sits high through all the hours that the moon should claim. The midnight sun and the undying day, and the battle is not won!”
The drowsy lad looked up. Sleep-heavy were his deep blue eyes, and the sea damp curled his long, fair hair. “It is near unto midnight, my father, and yon sun still sails gloriously through the sky. O! but it will be fair to see it sink on the very edge of dawn, a blood red sun and the sky all flame, and the sea like a pool of all the world’s blood.”
“Blood! blood! my lad—that is it. It must be all blood! Blood in the sun that will not sleep; and the flame of Thor’s altar burning on the hills and the sea full—full to overflowing, till it washes up the land in blood! Come my little lad, my last, my dearest! The gods, the terrible strong gods are angry! They cry out for a sacrifice, a precious victim, ere they will give us victory!” Earl Haakon sprang from the boat to the beach, and Erling, silenced and terrified, followed his father into the woodland that fringed the shore.
Not the note of a bird nor the cry of a beast smote the stillness. The sky wore the glory of the noonday, but the soft silence of the night lay upon the earth. The battle cries came from afar, and seemed to urge Earl Haakon on, as he hastily cut the branches of the trees and laid them one upon the other to build
