Swain's Sons

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

Swain's Sons
A Complete Novelette

by Arthur D. Howden Smith
Author of "Swain's Burning," "Swain's Vengeance," etc.

DOWN on the strand the mallets of the shipmen beat a steady tune, and Swain Olaf's son tarried by the skalli door to watch the little black dots swarming about the bare sides of Deathbringer and his brother Gunni's dragon Seabroth. Already the winter sheds had been removed and the riggers were at work on the tall masts, while other men calked the bottom planks and spread paint where it was necessary.

To Swain, watching, came his mother, Asleif, a stately figure, such a woman as must have mothered warriors, but in her eyes the brooding shadow product of month-long vigils and the bearing of stark sorrows with dry eyes. There was that in her face this morning, too, which in another might have passed for fear—a dullness of foreboding.

"Why must you go viking-faring this year, Swain?" she asked. "We have more goods and lands than we have use for. In all the Orkneys only the Jarl is richer than we."

Swain laughed.

"Ask me why the whaups fly northward, mother. The viking-fever kindles in our blood. There is not a man on Gairsey does not hunger for oar rattle and the grip of a thirsty sword. No, no, the Spring planting is done; the fields lie fallow. What should we do if we bided idly at home?"

She gave him a curious glance.

"Take a maid to wife, perhaps."

Swain laughed again.

"A wife? What should I do with a wife? Women are—I'll say no more, for you are woman. But saving you I know none I'd give bower-room to."

"Nonetheless you should wed, Swain," persisted his mother. "Here are you and Gunni both growing out of your youth, always wildly aventuring, and if harm befalls you both our stock is ended."

"Humph!" grunted Swain, his eyes on the shapely longships below the skalli hill. "Let Gunni do it."

"No," returned Asleif. "Well you know Gunni will follow your lead, and none other. Also, it is for you, the elder, to provide an heir for our lands. It is not fitting that a family such as ours should end in a single ill-fought struggle."

Swain shook his head, frowning.

"You forget I still have a vengeance to achieve," he said.

"Say, rather, I remember that vengeance," Asleif retorted swiftly. "It is true that of the slayers of your father and your brother Valthiof you have slain Frakork, the witch, but Frakork's grandson, Olvir Rosta, escaped you, and who knows but he may surprize you in your sleep or when you lie in some friendly haven?"

"That is the reason why I want no wife to hamper my thoughts," rejoined Swain. "When I have found Olvir I will talk to you of this again."

"But if Olvir finds you first?"

"He will not," Swain promised her grimly.

"Or Gunni?"

"You are not yourself, mother," he answered. "Forget this black thought that haunts you. If Frakork lived I might think she had lain a spell upon you. Be at your ease. Olvir has fled so. far from my wrath that I have not heard trace of him since he was in Iceland. That is why I am off this morning to seek Jarl Rognvald and ask him what aid he will lend me in this cruise."

Asleif sighed.

"You were never one to take another's counsel, Swain," she said. "But there is little I have ever asked of you, nor have I hung upon your shield-arm in time of danger."

Swain turned to her with a great light blazing in his fierce blue eyes! Tall as she was, he was a head taller, and his mighty shoulders and stalwart limbs had made him famous for strength through all the countries of the North, so that kings spoke of his exploits at the ale-drinking and the common men called a sudden death "a Swain's bane."

"If I might find a woman like you, I would take her today; but well I know your like is not to be found in any land. Yet this I will say, for love of you: When the time comes I will wed, love or no love, so that your fears may be satisfied."

With this he left her, and went down to the shore, and boarded a small sailing-boat, in which he crossed the narrow waters of the Efjasund to the mainland of Hrossey. Hrossey he crossed by way of Rennadale and Steinsness to Jarl Rognvald's steading at Orphir. He walked into the skalli at candle-lighting, and the Jarl hailed him from the high table in the hall. Jarl Rognvald had much love for Swain, although in times past he had felt the weight of his wrath.

"You are come in a good hour, Swain," he greeted him, with twinkling eyes. "I have been expecting you ever since the southland traders began to sail in. It is in my mind that you are late astir this year."

"I never sail seaward in any year, Lord Jarl, until the Spring planting is done," returned Swain. "Viking plunder is not food."

"Therein you show good sense," approved the Jarl. "I wish that you were as well-advised in other ways."

"For what do you find fault with me, Lord Jarl?" inquired Swain.

"For your failure to take account of the future.

"You are past your green youth, yet you have never gotten sons to protect your lands after you are gone. That is foolish, Swain. You are the richest man without title in the North; but if you and your brother Gunni die your property will be divided among the most powerful bidders for it."

"I have no traffic with women," answered Swain sourly.

"They have their uses," observed the Jarl.

"Women," growled Swain, "are like oar-foam. They are a spatter of words in your face."

Jarl Rognvald laughed hugely.

"The truth of that I will not deny," he admitted; "yet they appear to be necessary in this world. However, it is for you to order your own life. What can I do for you?"

"As you have guessed without difficulty, Lord Jarl," answered Swain, "I am ready to go viking-faring. Are you of a mind to lend me your aid in this cruise, as of yore?"

Before the Jarl could reply his young cousin Jarl Harald, who shared his rule with him, burst into the hall, dragging a man after him.

"Ho, Swain, so you are here!" cried Harald. "That is well, for here is one who has come far to seek you, and he brings great news."

This Jarl Harald was a youth in the beginning of manhood, dark and of middle height. He had a considerable admiration for Swain, to whom, indeed, he owed his estate in the Islands, for Swain had brought him to Orphir as a child and secured for him from Jarl Rognvald a half of the jarldom, because, as Swain said, "one Jarl rules with might; two Jarls rule with justice."

The man with Jarl Harald was a bandy-legged fellow, very swarthy in the face,and he had a cast in one eye; but his clothing and armor proclaimed him a chief. He bowed low to Jarl Rognvald, and addressed himself to Swain, although it was difficult always to be sure which way he was looking, on account of his cast eye.

"I see that my luck has changed," he said, "for I have found Swain Olaf's son easier than I expected to."

"All men do not count themselves lucky to meet Swain Olaf's son," returned Swain, frowning. "Who are you?"

And the stranger answered freely enough—

"My name is Holdbodi, and I hold lands in Liodhus ^[1] from the King of the Sudreyar."^[2]

Swain's face cleared.

"That is better. I have heard men speak of you, Holdbodi. What is it you wish of me?"

"Men have said that you were concerned with one Olvir Rosta, grandson of Frakork, the witch," replied Holdbodi.

"I am. I am concerned to hew his head from his neck."

"Then it may be I can be of some assistance to you."

Swain leaped up from the high table and brought the full scowling menace of his bearded face to bear upon the oblique eyes of the Sudreyarman.

"You waste time chattering," he rasped. "Say your say, and have done."

Holdbodi nodded, and a close watcher might have fancied there was a crafty light in his slewed right eye.

"I will, I will," he promised. "There are always formalities to be observed in approaching famous men. The plain truth of the matter is that Olvir Rosta has burned my steading——"

"Is Olvir in these parts?" shouted Swain.

"Why, I have just said——"

"You have said too much—or not enough!"

Swain vaulted the table-top, and landed catlike beside the stranger.

"Speak quickly! Or——"

"He was in Liodhus," protested Holdbodi. "Where he is now I cannot say, except that his galleys pointed south."

"Give the stranger an opportunity to find his words, Swain," advised Jarl Rognvald. "Let him tell his tale in his own fashion."

"I thank you, Lord Jarl," remarked the Sudreyarman. "All men say you are fair-spoken——"

"So am not I," interrupted Swain sourly. "Your tongue runs all around the skalli. If you would share my friendship, you will speak with judgment."

Holdbodi bowed to him even lower than he had to the Jarl.

"Indeed, if you will not assist me, Swain, I am in despair of securing my just vengeance——"

Again Swain's face cleared.

"So you seek vengeance upon Olvir, Holdbodi? That is well. But be sure to remember that no hand but mine is to give him his death-blow."

"I have no desire to match blades personally with Olvir," observed Holdbodi drily.

"Then we shall agree excellently," said Swain. "Tell us your story. I am surprized by what you say, for I hunted all the northern seas last Autumn for a trace of Olvir, without uncovering a single clue."

"That is not strange," answered the Sudreyarman. "From what his men let drop in Liodhus he has spent recent years in Iceland and Greenland acquiring wealth with which to outfit two longships and secure crews for them. He sailed south from Iceland with the clearing of the floes, and Liodhus was the first land he struck. I escaped from him with difficulty, borrowed a longship from my brother and came east to ask your assistance, for I am not strong enough alone to go against him. That is my story, Swain."

"You'll take me, Swain!" struck in young Jarl Harald. "You have promised me these past two Winters. You must take me, Swain! Where should I find a better opportunity to become a warrior than upon such an expedition?"

"It is an unusually good opportunity to lose your head," responded Swain. "Olvir is a skilled warrior, and— You say he has two longships with him, Holdbodi?"

"He had when he came to Liodhus," answered the Sudreyarman; "but men said he was for heading southward to Man and the west coast of Bretland,^[3] and there is not knowing how many masterless men and rovers he may win there to his standard."

"Holdbodi says truly," counseled Jarl Rognvald. "Depend upon it, Swain, Olvir will wax strong this Spring. Let others take toll of him first. Then do you come at him after his strength begins to wane."

Swain glowered.

"I was never a man to ask shame for my portion," he growled. "Let Olvir have a chance to say that he was in these waters, and I did not give him battle! Rather would I be impaled alive upon the point of his spear. I sail so soon as my ships are boun."^[4]

"And I go with you, Swain!" clamored young Jarl Harald. "You will not be sorry for it. I can strike as rare a blow as old Gutorm who captains Rognvald's housecarls."

There was a general burst of laughter.

"It is for you to ask Jarl Rognvald, Harald," Swain pointed out.

"No, no," answered Rognvald. "I will not have the responsibility cast upon me, Swain. If the boy was killed, my enemies—and every man has enemies, as you know would say that I had sent him off to be rid of him."

"That is true," admitted Swain. "And I will take it upon myself, Lord Jarl, to advise you to permit young Jarl Harald to sail with me, in order that he may become a warrior the Orkneyfolk will be proud of."

"In that case he shall go," replied Jarl Rognvald; "and as it is my desire that you shall be able to make a proud showing and overcome Olvir even though he gains allies, I will lend you two longships with full crews on the usual understanding that a fair proportion of your booty is to be awarded to me and to my men."

Swain hammered his fist upon the table.

"Ho, Lord Jarl, that is generous!"

And he swung around upon Holdbodi.

"There is a Jarl for you," he continued. "If there were many such, fellows like Olvir would soon be ravens' food."

Jarl Rognvald clapped his hands for the servingmen.

"It is a pleasure to assist you, Swain," he said; "and now we will eat and drink ale together."

"No," returned Swain hastily. "Let Holdbodi stay if he chooses, but I must be off to Gairsey to hasten my ship-men in bouning our dragons. We shall be at Orphir three days hence, Lord Jarl, and with your permission will sail the day following."

Jarl Rognvald smiled at Holdbodi.

"There was never a man for hurrying like Swain," he observed. "When he has a notion in his head there is no room for anything else. Well, well, we will get along without him as well as we can."

"And I will give orders to have the sheds removed from your longships, Rognvald," offered young Jarl Harald. "We must not be behind Swain here at Orphir."

Whereat they all laughed anew, and Swain and Harald strode out of the skalli into the darkness of the early night. There was a raw wind blowing out of the North, and young Harald shuddered.

"That is a cold wind," he muttered.

"It is an ill wind," answered Swain. "I smell death in it."

 

II

THE wind out of the North was still tearing the wave-crests of the Pentland Firth when Swain's fleet sailed from Orphir. He had five longships and all of four hundred men, his own great dragon Deathbringer, pulling thirty oars a side; Gunni's dragon Seabroth, of twenty oars; Jarl Rognvald's two longships, each of twenty oars; and Holdbodi's dingy craft, which pulled eighteen oars and carried a crew of sixty or seventy hairy, skin-clad flat-faced Sudreyarmen, who talked with a whistling intonation in high, excited voices and were better stone-slingers and knife-fighters than swordsmen. Chancey folk they were called in the North. Jarl Rognvald drew Swain aside upon Orphir strand, the while Bishop William was blessing the longships and the crews were embarking.

"I say nothing against this Holdbodi, Swain," remarked the Jarl. "He seems a fair cup-fellow and friendly in his views. But all folk are agreed that the Sudreyarmen are treacherous. Be on your guard."

Swain laughed in his golden-red beard.

"What harm could he wreak if he sought to?" he demanded. "No, Lord Jarl, the man who is outnumbered five to one is he you may rely upon to the death—because he dies if he seeks to betray."

"That is all very well," returned the Jarl. "Take my counsel or leave it, but sooner or later you will find it worth while."

So they sailed in the teeth of the gale, with the foam spurting through the oarholes and the waves breaking over the laboring dragons' heads; but after they had rounded the point of Scotland at Hvart,^[5] they entered the waters of Scotland's Firth,^[6] with the wind behind them, and the seas moderated somewhat. They came to Liodhus with fair weather, and bespoke the islands there for news of Olvir. People answered them with grief-stricken faces.

"It is little trouble you will be having in following him," they said. "His path is ruddy with blood and soiled by fire wherever he has been."

Swain held on to the south, touching at Nord Ivist^[7] for further news. From here the trail of Olvir's slayings and burnings led them east across the Firth to Skidh,^[8] and then southward again to Tyrvist^[9] and Il^[10] But however hard the crews rowed, however steadily the wind blew, they could not catch up with Olvir.

From Il he had crossed the tossing waters of the open ocean to Uladstir,^[11] where Swain's company found a charred village on the shores of Ulfresksfiord. And all the way south on the Irish coast villages were smoking ruins, but not until they had penetrated the waters of Irlands Haf^[12] did they come close enough to Olvir to feel that they were at last a menace to him.

This was on the day they sighted the cliffs of Man. A small sailboat danced out to meet them, and from it a single bluff, leather-faced man in rusty mail climbed to Deathbringer's deck.

"I am called Erik Skallagrim's son," he announced shortly, unawed by the armed men around him. "By any chance, is Swain Olaf's son among you?"

Swain bent a scowling glance upon him. "I am Swain. What is that to you?"

"Much," rejoined the other laconically. "I am come on behalf of the Lady Ingrid, who is Queen in Man since her husband's death. Olvir Rosta slew him in battle two weeks since, and fled to Bretiand with his following after word reached him that you had been seen in Ulfresksfiord and were sailing south."

"Where is Olvir gone?" demanded Swain.

"To Bretiand, I said, Swain."

"Yes, but——"

"Now, be reasonable," pleaded the leather-faced little man. "It is a great country, Bretiand. But if you will beach your longships and lodge with us a while at Stikleborg, the Lady Ingrid will send out scouts to endeavor to learn where Olvir has gone. He will not go far because he has joined forces with Hrodbjart,^[13] who is a Bretlander who lives outside the law on his own account, and they plan to ravage all this part of the world between them and bring it under their sway."

"Humph," said Swain. "What sort of woman is this Lady Ingrid? Has she means?"

"She has Man, which is a very rich island," answered Erik.

"Is she old?"

Erik grinned.

"She is commonly said to be beautiful, but since all men do not agree as to beauty I prefer to leave you to judge for yourself."

Swain spat overside.

"Bah! I detest all women, but most of all these soft-handed, long-haired, crooning creatures!"

"She is no fresh bower-maiden," rejoined Erik, slyly amused. "Come and see her. She bids you ashore, by me, and wishes to have you and your people for her guests so long as you will tarry."

"We will tarry as long as suits us," rasped Swain; "but not to see her. I came here to find Olvir Rosta. When I get news of whither he is gone, I shall be off after him."

"No one will seek to stop you," said Erik. "Let viking hew viking, the Manfolk say."

"Why should you speak for them?"

"I am Ingrid's steward."

"Can you fight as well as wag your tongue, Erik?"

"I was Iceland born."

Swain smiled at the little man, taken, despite himself, by Erik's bantering swagger.

"We will make trial of you," he said. "You shall be in the front of the raven-feeders when our bows crash through Olvir's oar-banks. Meantime my people are bench-weary, and we will go ashore and bid this Lady Ingrid show what she will do to aid us in slaying her husband's slayer."

"She will marry you," said Erik assuredly.

Swain stared at him.

"Marry me? Who do you think you are talking to, manling? Marry me? I am Swain Olaf's son. The woman— You are bewitched! As for her—let her cast but a glance, and I'll flog her from her own hall with my sword blade."

Swain's housecarls roared with approving laughter

The little Icelander pursed his lips.

"If it isn't you, it will be somebody else," he said. "She has rich lands."

He lingered on the last words, but Swain did not hear him, having turned impatiently to shout his orders to the longship next astern.

 

III

THERE was a sheltered cove on the shore under Stikleborg, and Swain ordered his captains to let the longships ride here the while they went up to the skalli of the lady of the islands—who, after the manner in those parts, was queen in Man—and made trial of her hospitality. But because he was cautious and trusted no strangers he left one-half the ships' companies on board.

"It is true we have this Icelander Erik for hostage," he growled as he stood in the midst of his vikings on the wet beach, "and if we come near Ingrid we can hold her, too. But I am of no mind to present the Manfolk with a viking fleet for the taking."

"You are a forehanded man," commented Erik, who was standing by, in his dry way; "but you concern yourself to no purpose."

"Touching this Lady Ingrid," spoke up Holdbodi, moistening his lips with a large tongue; "if she be in the mood for marriage, it might be wise for us to humor her. Here are broad lands to be warded and much wealth to be secured."

"We are not a bridal party," reproved Swain harshly. "We are the executors of vengeance."

"Oh, yes, vengeance comes first," Holdbodi agreed. "Nevertheless, if a marriage was to aid the vengeance——"

"We will take what we need," Swain cut him short.

"So will we," Gunni affirmed after him.

"Yes, yes," muttered the other chiefs.

"Enough of talking," said Swain. "Loose your swords, and we will climb to the skalli. Erik, you guide us, and my spear splits your neck if there is sign of treachery."

"It is you who waste words," snapped Erik. "Do I look like one who would invite a spear in my back?"

So they climbed the foreshore to the upland, and came to Stikleborg, which had been the strong place of Ingrid's husband and in which she now dwelt. It was a steading richer even than Jarl Rognvald's at Orphir. Farms and dairies surrounded the borg, itself, which was a palisaded wall atop of a bank of earth, with a wide, dry ditch, and inside this protection the skalli and its necessary outbuildings. Many of the Manfolk lined the way, and watched with awed faces the two hundred strapping fellows who followed Swain in their mail. The darkness had settled as they reached the borg entrance, and torchbearers came out to meet them, the flames flickering on steel caps and big raven-shields and long, yellow mustaches.

Swain strode along with his chin in air, his fierce eyes boring at the half-seen figures in his path. In front of him walked Erik. At his back walked Gunni, Holdbodi and young Jarl Harald, quivering with interest in his first venture, and Thorar Asgrim's son and Leif Anakol's son, the captains of Jarl Rognvald's two longships.

They tramped over a bridge of planks across the ditch, and passed the earthen walls into a wide open space, aglow with fires, where oxen were roasting slowly and huge kegs of ale stood open for the horn. Directly in their path stood a single figure, a woman, at sight of whom Swain's lips curled and his clutch tightened upon the haft of the spear that was close to Erik's back. She took a single step forward, as the column approached, a step sufficient to bring her into the full glare of one of the fires; and Swain owned, against his will, that she was handsome.

A tall, strapping wench, Irish by her gray eyes and the long black hair that had a glint of blue in it in the uncertain light. Her features were marred by a kind of wilful arrogance; her full lips parted in a constant pout. Around her she had wrapped a long, black cloak, which she held fast over her breast.

"Are these the brave strangers who will avenge my murdered husband, Erik?" she demanded in resonant tones.

"This is Swain Olaf's son, of whom you have heard, lady," replied Erik.

The woman advanced another step and flung out both her arms in a theatrical gesture of appeal.

"I am a widow—alone and wronged, Swain!" she cried. "Will you help me? Whatever payment you ask, shall be yours."

Swain came to a halt, and glowered at her.

"Why should I help you?" he countered.

"I am rich. I can pay you."

"If I want your property, I can take it," returned Swain.

She looked somewhat puzzled. This was not the answer which evidently she had expected. Erik seemed suddenly to be concerned with the straps of his harness.

"It would ill become a noble chief like you to take advantage of my friendship," she replied at last.

Swain snapped his thumb and finger.

"That for your friendship! You want something of me."

"Only what you ought to be glad to offer," she flashed, white teeth gleaming for an instant between pouting red lips.

"I am not one to fight other peoples' battles," rejoined Swain. "If your interest matches my interest I may talk to you. Otherwise, we have no meeting-place."

Holdbodi, behind him, thrust mouth to his ear.

"Hold in, Swain," he whispered. "Here are rich pickings. Don't lose them for us."

Swain growled deep in his throat in a way he had—and Holdbodi quickly melted back into the group of chiefs. But Ingrid in the firelight had observed his move, and she tried again.

"It pleases you to be rough in your answer to me, Swain," she said, holding herself proudly erect. "Perhaps you do not know that a week ago I caused it to be proclaimed that whoever brought me the head of Olvir Rosta, who slew my husband and lord, Andrew Morkar's son, him I would wed, be he chief or common man, Irlander, Bretlander, Scotsman or of the folk of the Sudreyar or the Hebrides."

"I did not know it," admitted Swain. "But it does not interest me."

"Ah, then you are not concerned to slay Olvir Rosta, who, men say——"

"No, I am not concerned with you, Lady, unless you can aid me with men and ships to go after Olvir."

"I can do much," she cried.

"Do you prove it to us, then. For myself, I will give the man who slays Olvir lands and gear to make him rich for life—but it is easy for me to promise that because it will be I who slay Olvir."

She came still closer to him, an artificial grimace of rage masking her lovely face.

"I will prove my words," she hissed. "Whatever you choose—take it! Take all! My men, my gear, my ships! Take me—use me for oar-grease. Do with me what you will. Only promise to slay me that foul——"

Swain pushed her roughly aside.

"This is no place for woman's chatter," he rasped. "We are warriors hungry from the sea. Be off, and see to the servingmen that they do not try our patience. Be off, I say!"

Erik granted him a reluctant glance of admiration as she scuttled away into the shadows.

"Ho, you are no boaster, Swain. But mark me, marriage she will have, so you may as well single out him of your company you like least or best, eh?"

"A man might do worse than wed with such a fair woman," pressed Holdbodi. "Here are broad lands and——"

"You have said that before," snarled Swain. "I will not have it! Do you see? I will not have it. Tomorrow we sail hence after Olvir. Then battle. After battle— Let the ravens croak their answer!"

"The ravens will answer," agreed Gunni.

"Women," remarked young Jarl Harald, "have no place in men s thoughts on the eve of battle."

There was a gruff bellow of laughter. Even Swain joined.

"A stout borg, this," he remarked critically, casting his eye around the circuit of the enclosure. "With this to fall back upon, it will be strange if we do not come to an accounting with Olvir."

 

ON THE next day Ingrid would have had Swain and the other chiefs to talk with her in the skalli, but when she appeared in the steading Swain sent her word by Erik that there was man's work to be done and that she could best aid them by keeping out of the way. She flung back to her bower in a black storm-cloud of anger, biting her lips until the blood ran. Yet it was not long before Swain came to her. He strode in unannounced, and stared at her with hard dislike where she huddled sullenly on a furstrewn couch.

"Any vengeance you secure you will pay for," he announced.

She peered at him almost hopefully.

"I said I would pay," she began.

"Why could you not do?"

"Do? I am only a woman, Swain. What——"

"You are also a queen. Could you not have mustered and armed your people? Could you not have provided fresh arrows? Could you not have had the old mail mended? Could you not have swords for your housecarls with an edge to cut cheese loaves? Could you——"

"I need a man to do that for me," she interrupted with what she meant for an alluring look.

Swain simply glowered.

"You won't get one from me," he barked. "This island was ripe for the first comer to pluck. If I had not happened along Olvir would have gathered it in—and you, with it. Yes, you would have lost your widowhood by now."

"I am not fond of it," she said, desperately frank. "Andrew was old, and——"

"I am not interested in you," said Swain brutally. "What concerns me is that I get away from here as swiftly as possible. And I find that your people are untrained to war, that your arms-chests are empty and your longships are broken or decayed. Well, I shall take what I can use. Afterward I shall return and collect payment from you for the trouble you have put me to. Be sure to have a payment ready for me to select from or I will take twice what otherwise would satisfy me."

And he turned upon his heel.

"But are you going away now?" she cried.

He did not answer her. But from the walls of the borg she saw the fleet stand to the southeast an hour later, Swain's five longships supplemented by two others which Erik had produced and which considerable effort had made water-tight. The sun was already far down in the westward sky, and the massing shadows in the east soon blotted out the lean hulls of the longships, with their huge, square, bellying sails and myriad crawling oars. Toward morning they came to a headland of the Bretland coast called Jarlsness, and waited in the purple dusk, bows drawn close together in a star-shaped formation, so that the ship-captains could exchange counsel; and presently there winged out to them a small sailing vessel, one of several which Erik had dispatched in advance of their coming to scout the neighborhood. Erik, himself, was on this boat, and he scrambled aboard Deathbringer to give Swain his report.

"They are here, Swain," he said curtly, "as I thought they would be. There was a wealthy abbey up the river a ways, besides a town and a dozen villages and two small lords' castles, and all these Olvir has plundered. We had the word from certain poor folk we found on the beaches. His men are glutted with slaying and plunder."

"What is 'here'?" demanded Swain. "Where do they lie?"

"Beyond that headland—a score of them."

"A score?"

"Big craft and little, dragons and ten-oared barges and a few fishing-boats."

"How many dragons has he?"

"Two of his own and Hrodbjart's two, but he has twice the men you have."

"Mongrels," answered Swain. "What have we to fear from such as they? We will run them down at their rowing-benches."

He considered.

"How long shall we take to round the headland?"

"With this wind? An hour, perhaps more."

Swain raised his great voice in a hail that carried through the fleet.

"Olvir Rosta is close by. We go to him. Deathbringer leads the way. Ravens throng the sky."

A shout rose from the crowded longships, the deep, booming voices of the Orkneymen mingling with the shriller tones of Holdbodi's people and the Manfolk.

"Lead on, Swain! We follow."

"But will Olvir stand to it?" clamored young Jarl Harald excitedly. "Will he stand to it when he sees us, Swain?"

Swain laughed shortly.

"He will stand to it, for we will carry it to him wherever he stands. Erik, get you aboard one of your dragons. I look to you to keep the Manfolk in line. Every sword counts."

"If all slay as many as I none will escape us," returned the Icelander coolly. "But by your leave, Swain, I use the ax. It has advantages for one of my stature."

"Slay all you can," said Swain. "But on your head, spare Olvir Rosta for me."

"Oh, I'll pass him by!" said Erik. "He is one I will gladly pass by. I saw him slice Andrew's head off as though it— Yes, yes, Swain, I am going."

And the little man scrambled over the bulwarks of Deathbringer, leaping from ship to ship until he gained his own vessel's decks. Then they hoisted the sails, and the seven longships straightened out in one another's wakes, churning the foam as they advanced.

All went well until the dawn broke, when the wind freshened and shifted, blowing head on against them, with the result that they were compelled to lower their sails and continue by rowing alone, a hard and toilsome undertaking under such conditions. Swain, by the steersmen of Deathbringer, watched their slow progress with mounting fury. It meant that instead of coming upon Olvir on the heels of the twilight, while his men were heavy-headed and unready, they would round the headland in the middle of the morning to find the hostile vessels awake and in shape to prepare to meet them. Half of their advantage was gone, but Swain never thought of abandoning the attempt. He intended to come to hand-grips with Olvir if they must row all through that day and into the next night; and as a matter of fact the sun was almost overhead when they finally rounded Jarlsness and in the bight formed by the estuary of a considerable river glimpsed the riding hulls of their enemies.

The hooked end of the promontory moderated the wind's force upon this side of it, and it was possible for the seven longships to straggle into line abreast in response to Swain's orders shouted through a ludr-horn. He placed Deathbringer at the right end of the line, the outer flank, because he looked for the enemy to attempt to break free in that direction. Next him were Jarl Rognvald's dragons, then Erik and the two Man ships, then Holdbodi and the Sudreyarfolk, and lastly, on the far left, Gunni in Seabroth. They all drew in their oars, so that the rowers might rest their tired arms and shoulders for the fray, and with the wind squarely over their sterns, slanted down upon Olvir's fleet which was bustling with sudden activity.

Swain stood on the poop of Deathbringer, with young Jarl Harald beside him, and a half-score of giant housecarls. The waist was crammed with the idle oarsmen, who had donned mail shirts and caps. The forecastle was dense with spearmen and archers. Overhead the sun shone brightly, and the wind thrummed like a skald picking at harpstrings in the cordage and the huge, straining hollow of the sail.

Gradually, as they drew nearer, Olvir's fleet formed into a sort of hasty order. The four dragons, two of twenty-four and two of twenty oars, became its nucleus. On either side of them clustered a pack of barges and fishing-boats, small in size, but overflowing with men; and they surged forward, using their oars perforce, as the wind was against them. The dragons forged rapidly to the front, propelled by their scores of oars, and the small craft tailed out behind in a kind of wedge, with its point—the four dragons—aimed at the center of Swain's line.

Swain perceived this at once, and he endeavored as well as he could to constrict his front, so as to reduce the intervals between his ships; but in that wind and on a rocky coast the agile longships required an unusual amount of handling-room, and he dared not tighten the line as he would otherwise have done.

"They will strike Erik or Thorar," exclaimed Jarl Harald.

"Then Erik or Thorar will die," grunted Swain; "but in the turmoil we shall ring them and those who do not swim ashore to be slain by the folk they have despoiled will die upon our blades."

"Which is Olvir's ship?"

"How should I know, boy? I have never seen it before."

"Shall I try an arrow upon their leader? It is down wind."

"No, no. Hold your arrows until you can see the face of him you shoot at. Steady, helmsman! What are they doing?"

Without warning, the opposing fleet had shifted direction, and were striking obliquely across the front of Swain's line, aiming at Gunni's flank.

"They can never pass between Gunni and the rocks," cried Jarl Harald. "There is not——"

Swain interrupted with a bull roar of rage.

"Larboard, helmsmen! Larboard, all!"

And running to the rail he shouted to Leif, his next in line to larboard:

"Pass the word to bear off to larboard! They will crush Gunni and Holdbodi."

Leif shouted the order to Thorar, and so it traversed the line of seven ships; but the shift came too late to avert Olvir's stroke. Wind and oars on either side combined to bring on the impact between the left flank of Swain's formation and the spearhead of Olvir's attack before Swain's center and right could come into action.

Olvir's four dragons, charged bluntly into Holdbodi's and Gunni's, and their tail of small fry overwhelmed momentarily Erik's two ships. There was a grinding of planking; the shrieking of boarders caught and pinched between lurching hulls; the snap of masts as rigging was cut asunder; the thrashing of falling sails.

Holdbodi saw the menace of his position and backed away, dropping his sail and turning his attention to the small craft that had attacked Erik's ships; but Gunni met the odds of four to one without yielding a foot of sea-room. It was his mast that fell as the boarders slashed the overburdened rigging. It was his crew who leaped on the rowing-benches and met the assaults that poured over both quarters and one bow. It was he, who lifted an immense ballast stone from beneath the gangway planking, poised it an instant upon his shoulder and then flung it overside to smash through the bottom of Hrodbjart's dragon and send the Bretlander careering to the bottom.

But Gunni alone might not stay that wolf-rush of numbers four times his own. Hrodbjart's men, those who could, scrambled from their sinking vessel, reckless of what fate they met so long as it was not drowning, and bravely faced the spears and swords of Gunni's waist-men. On his starboard side Olvir boarded, hewing a passage through the ranks of the Orkney oarsmen. Olvir's other dragon launched a flood of Icelanders, led by raging berserks, fey men who had no fear of dying if they might die slaying others, who swarmed over Gunni's forecastle. In five minutes of close fighting these three streams of invaders penned Gunni and a surviving handful of men into the constricted space of the poop.

Swain, raging with helpless anger, saw his brother's end, as he rounded against the wind, furled his sail and with outthrust oars led Rognvald's two longships into the heart of the fight that centered about Holdbodi and the two Man longships. Two barges he crushed under his dragon-bow, and his archers took fearful toll of the crowded open decks of every small vessel they passed, but despite his urging his men could not reach Seabroth in time to save Gunni. The second of Hrodbjart's dragons was in his path, and while he refused to stop and take it, bellowing an order to Leif behind him to lay it aboard, he was obliged to shove it out of his way and exchange spears and arrows with its crew as he drove by.

In that very moment, heedless of the hostile arrows that clinked on shield and mail, he saw his brother alone upon Seabroth's poop, reeling from a dozen bleeding wounds. He saw, too, the squat, powerful, black-bearded figure that crouched toward Gunni, with lifted spear. He saw Gunni's feeble effort to lift a riven shield, to raise the heavy sword. Then the spear flashed. Gunni fell. A hoarse shout of satisfaction rang down the wind. Olvir sprang away his men pelting after him along the streaming decks of Seabroth. They regained their own dragons and cast off. Oars darted through the oar-holes, foam spurted under the drive of shoulders still hampered with mail, and open water showed between them and their victim, an empty, lifeless, man-gutted hulk that tossed upon the waves.

Swain leaped into the waist of Deathbringer and strode up the gangway, such a look on his face that no man could meet it.

"Row!" he bellowed. "Row, as you have never rowed before! The man who hesitates I will impale alive. Put your backs into it. Do you call this effort? Row, I say! Shall I beat you with my sword? Row!"

They were all freeborn men, but none answered, nor did a single oar slip in its work; but try as they might they could not gain upon Olvir's lighter dragons, which in such a sea were easier to drive. Then, as they came to the end of the headland, the wind veered again and blew from the northeast, and Olvir's sails were raised to catch it.

"Up sail!" growled Swain. "If they can outgrow us, perhaps we can outsail them."

It was not to be. Hard-driven, one of Olvir's ships, tore its over-strained sail to shreds and fell off into the trough of the waves, its men, exhausted by their toils, dipping feebly with their oars. Swain contented himself with pouring arrows into it at short range, and steered on as soon as he was sure that Olvir was not on board, confident that Thorar and Leif who followed him would take care of the enemy without difficulty.

All that day he pursued Olvir southwesterly across Irlands Haf. When the Irland coast towered green ahead the outlaw bore to the south, and held the course until darkness obscured the sea. Swain set double watches on the forecastle and himself climbed to the masthead, where he might gain the widest sweep of the night, and scarce a man of the crew slept until morning dawned, and they found themselves beyond sight of land—alone. Seagulls swooped and dived, but not another sign of life was within view. Olvir had vanished.

But Swain refused to be discouraged. He steered northwest and poked into several harbors of the southern coast of Irland where Olvir might have sought shelter, but the Irish all denied having had sight of the raider, although many knew his name from his exploits of old. Baffled, but still undismayed, Swain turned to the open sea gain and sailed to Syllingar,^[14] where he sought speech with the monks who dwelt in this bare, wind-swept place. All they could tell was that some days since, about the time he had first lost trace of his prey, they had sighted a single longship, with tattered sail and salt-crusted bulwarks which had beat past the islands, headed toward the south.

"Yes, that would be he," he said bitterly.

"Who, my son?" asked the gray prior.

"One who shall yet feel the bite of my sword," rumbled Swain.

The prior raised a crucifix in protestation.

"No, no, my son. Man of blood that you are, accept the unfortunate's escape as a divine intervention to save you from taking his life."

Swain reached for his sword.

"If I thought that— But no matter! My time will come."

And he stalked back to his vessel heaving below the monastery landing. His men heard the tidings in silence, except young Jarl Harald.

"Then we continue our voyage," remarked the boy in matter-of-fact tones. "If Olvir went south he can go only as far as the edge of the world. Sooner or later we must come up to him."

A growl of laughter came from Swain's bearded lips.

"You are a mastiff," he said. "That was well-spoken, but if you were older you would know that it is a long way to the world's edge, with many ways to turn and twist and double before, the edge is reached. No, Harald, Olvir has escaped us this venture, and our course is to go back and bide until he comes again."

"But will he come again?" asked Harald doubtfully.

"He will, because his evil spirit drives him. Also, I shall have something which he desires."

"What?"

"That is to be seen. In. the meantime, we will return and discover what our friends have achieved in our absence. Out oars!"

And as the dragon bucked under the pull of the stout ash-sweeps, he muttered so low that none might hear him:

"And there are words I must have with Holdbodi. The swine! Yes, Jarl Rognvald was right. Beware of the Sudreyarmen. If they are not treacherous, they think only of themselves."

 

V

SWAIN was met on the beach at Stikleborg by Thorar and Leif. Erik was with them, and all the surviving Orkneymen, a considerable number.

"It is to be seen that you had ill luck, Swain," said Erik.

"I have been out of favor with the gods in recent days," returned Swain. "But ill luck some day must become good luck."

Thorar cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"You know Gunni——"

"I saw what happened," Swain cut him short.

"We gave him haugh burial on the point of Jarlsness," said Leif. "There are four hundred to keep him company, and the mound is to be seen from afar."

"I would not have had it otherwise," said Swain.

Then there was a pause which lasted as long as it takes a man to tighten his helm-strap.

"Touching Olvir Rosta," hinted Erik.

"He escaped me," answered Swain shortly. "He is gone south of the Syllingar."

"Ah," said Erik. "But what was in my mind is that I am tired of serving the lady here and the new lord she picked—or who has picked her; I know not which it is. And I have taken thought that I would throw in my fortunes with you, Swain, if you cared for a man who was willing to accept luck as it comes and could persuade a few others to follow him."

He grinned.

"You were not close by in the fight off Jarlsness, but perhaps others will tell you that I was not the one to give ground to Olvir."

Swain's blue eyes, steel-cold with a bright, piercing light, peered down into the little, bandy-legged Icelander's.

"I will take you for my man, Erik," he answered; "but my service is not so easy as lngrid's."

"Or Holdbodi's, perhaps," answered Erik, with his quirky grin.

Swain frowned.

"I have somewhat to say to Holdbodi," he observed. "If he had held his place in the line at Jarlsness——"

"He would not sit in Ingrid's bower now," finished Erik.

Thorar and Leif, big, slow of speech, exchanged looks of misgiving, which Swain did not miss.

"What is this veiled talk?" he demanded.

Thorar and Leif cleared their throats, gulped, shifted their feet. It was Erik who answered.

"Why, you and Holdbodi are not agreed concerning the merits of his deeds off Jarlsness. He talks largely of having stayed the rush of Olvir's people, and is taking the Lady Ingrid for his share in the spoil."

Swain frowned.

"Have you permitted this?" he asked Thorar and Leif. "I was not here, but surely you two——"

They found their tongues.

"He said that you had no use for her," protested Thorar.

"And we were loath to pick a quarrel with him," said Leif.

"It was my advice to abide your return," added Erik. "No harm has been done yet, and the issue lies in your hands, Swain."

"He can have her, and welcome," said Swain. "But her lands are a different matter."

And then he remembered his brother Gunni dead. He remembered the smoking skalli which had been the pyre of his father and his elder brother, Valthiof. He remembered his mother's words at Gairsey, and the half-bantering advice of Jarl Rognvald. A sudden resolution formed in his mind.

"Lands and woman go together," he went on. "No, he can not have her, either."

Erik darted a quick glance at him, and chuckled.

"Ho, Swain, did I not say——"

"You have said much," Swain rebuked him. "I like you, little man, but curb your tongue. What I propose to do I do for reasons which suit my own ends. Come, we will go up to the borg."

They followed him, and Erik's face was now as puzzled as Thorar's and Leif's. After them tramped the Orkneymen, shields clinking on the backs of their mail-shirts. The Manfolk along the road watched them pass with anxious looks.

In the gateway of the borg beyond the plank bridge stood a knot of Sudreyarmen, perhaps a score or more. Their ranks knit closer as the boards creaked under the feet of Swain's following.

"Do you come in peace?" hailed one of them.

Swain answered not a word until he was within arm's reach of the fellow. Then he caught him by the arm and tossed him four spears' lengths away.

"Out of my path!" he growled. "Put up those knives—or Orkney swords will drink your blood."

They melted before him, and several started to run toward the skalli; but Swain heaved back a spear as if to cast it after them, and one who marked his gesture called to the others and they skulked aside.

"Thorar!" rasped Swain. "Take fifty men and keep the gate."

"And what of Holdbodi's people, Swain?"

"Send them forth, peaceably or by force. Leif, do you take a hundred men and scour the borg. No fighting if they do not ask for it, remember!"

A second knot of Holdbodi's people hovered by the skalli door, but they had observed the incident at the gate, and they offered Swain no active opposition. He brushed past them carelessly, Erik and fifty of his own men behind him, and entered the great hall, where Ingrid and Holdbodi sat side by side at the high table. Servants cowered behind the arras on the walls or darted into half-concealed doorways, fearful of the aburpt invasion of armed men. Holdbodi, too, looked uncomfortable. He had half-risen in his place, and his hand was on his sword-hilt. Ingrid, next to him, stared at Swain with a kind of preening triumph. It was as if she regarded this episode as a tribute to her, an indication of her importance in the affairs of these men. She spoke first.

"So you are back, Swain! That is well. You are in time to give my lord his due for the triumph his valor won upon our behalf."

Swain's laughter rumbled to the roofrafters.

"We shall have discussion of that valor," he answered. "What say you, Holdbodi?"

"I say that your jest is not becoming to a friend and loyal ally," blustered the Sudreyarman. "Why do you bring in this rabble to the hall? It has an ill look."

"It has," agreed Swain. "And so had the borg when I entered it a moment since. There was a stink of uncured Sudreyar fur. But we have mended that."

Holdbodi sank into his chair and nervously twitched at his beard.

"You speak as though I was your enemy, Swain," he remonstrated. "What harm have I done to you?"

"None," returned Swain promptly. "Unless it was by playing the coward's part to leave my brother to die under the teeth of a wolf-pack."

Holdbodi started up.

"This passes jest," he shouted. "Ten of my men died in that fight, and my ship was covered with blood! And you accuse me of being a coward. If our forces were even——"

"Oh, that need not concern you," said Swain. "I will send all forth from the hall, if it pleases you."

Ingrid was crouched over the table throughout their talk, a fever-flush of interest staining her cheeks, her eyes alight with the hunger for men's attention which was the keystone to her character.

"Yes, send them forth," she begged eagerly. "It is not fitting for two chiefs to quarrel before the common men. Send them forth, Swain, and I will be judge between you."

Before Swain's look she huddled down in her seat.

"Be still," he said. "There is one chief here, one chief in Man. And I am judge."

"You may be chief of our expedition, Swain," fumed Holdbodi, "but you have no right to order me as if I was your man. And as for calling me coward——"

"You are no coward when it is to your advantage to fight," said Swain; "but you were not man enough to hold your place in line and aid Gunni to meet Olvir's rush. If you had, perhaps you would have died, but Olvir would not have escaped."

"I could not do everything," muttered Holdbodi sulkily. "My one ship held back all Olvir's tail; a hundred of his men met their death at the hands of my people."

"You did not play a man's part," answered Swain. "And so I tell you plainly. Also, I take it in bad part that while I was away in pursuit of Olvir you should seek to seize the wealth of the island for yourself."

"It is true that the lady has promised to marry me," admitted Holdbodi, a thought shame-facedly; "but I had no intent to secure an unfair division of what booty there is."

"Were you planning to carry her back to Liodhus?" asked Swain sarcastically.

"No, for——"

"For her lands are here."

"Why not?" returned Holdbodi. "Somebody must hold them for her."

"But that need not be you. It will not be you."

This time Holdbodi jumped up, crimson with wrath.

"You shall not give her to one of your men! She has promised——"

"She will promise anything. But she will marry me."

The Sudreyarman's cast eye rolled wildly. Ingrid, herself, emitted a little screech, part surprize, part pleasure, and forgot Swain's recent snub. Erik grinned quietly to himself, and Swain's Orkneymen rattled spear-shafts and sword-hilts upon their shields in applause.

"But you would not have anything to——"

"Forget what is past, Holdbodi. I say now that I shall marry her."

"She is promised to me," wailed Holdbodi.

Swain smiled grimly, his tight-lipped, savage grimace which never inspired a taste for mirth in an opponent.

"That is easily mended. If she bleats—as I do not think she will—we'll drown her cries with the shield-rattling. But married she shall be before the sun sets tonight."

Ingrid leaped lithely from her seat and stretched out her arms toward Swain.

"This is the mating a woman craves, Swain!" she cried. "To be seized by a strong man, whether she wills it or not. To be torn from one man by a stronger! Ah, my viking, Ingrid of Man will be worthy of you!"

Swain did not speak a single word to her, but the blue flame of his eyes from under leveled, bushy brows drove her cowering behind the untidy furniture of the table.

Holdbodi chose the moment for his last defiance. The Sudreyarman was so overcome by his rage that the words spat from his lips with the hissing intonation of an angry cat.

"This is a rich reward for faithful friendship and loyal service!" he snarled. "It will make a brave tale, Swain. Men will speak enviously of you, as of one who takes all and gives nothing, who delights in appropriating for himself that which his friend desires! You may succeed now. You may take Ingrid—and much joy may you have of her, the ——! The last man who has her ear is the one she will follow. You may send me forth no richer for the fighting I have done in your behalf. But the time will come when you will regret it. I shall not forget."

Swain heard him out.

"If what you say was true, Holdbodi," he answered then, "you would have just cause for resentment. Answer me this: Am I the chief of our expedition?"

Holdbodi reluctantly admitted he was.

"Of five longships, I led four?"

"Yes, but——"

"And you have said you lost ten men off Jarlsness, where my dead were numbered by the score!"

The Sudreyarman made a final attempt to regain his swagger.

"If it had not been for me——"

"You did no more than save your skin. Bah! Jarl Rognvald warned me against trusting the Sudreyarfolk, but I would not heed him. Yet I am not one to let any man, however unworthy, leave me with empty hands, and seeing that there were five longships with which we started I will give you one-fifth of such movable booty as we can take from Man without injuring the island, together with the same share of what was captured in Olvir's ships. Take that, and go."

"But the lands in Man! We all helped——"

"My offer will not hold open very long, Holdbodi."

"My own lands were wrecked by Olvir," persisted Holdbodi. "I am of a mind to settle here, and begin anew."

Swain shook his head.

"Here you would make trouble," he said. "You will take what I offer, and go."

"I shall come again," hissed the Sudreyarman as he stumped to the door.

 

VI

ERIK returned to the hall after escorting the priest to the door.

"Where is the bride?" he asked, grinning.

Swain, sitting at the high table with young Jarl Harald, Thorar and Leif, roused himself from the thoughts in which he had been immersed.

"I could not stand her chatter," he answered. "She is gone to her bower. Did Holdbodi make sail?"

"Yes, he steered out for Irland at the setting of the sun."

There was an interval of silence during which the others peered secretly at Swain. Suddenly he raised his head.

"Jarl Harald, it is for you, with Thorar and Leif, to return to Orphir and carry news to Jarl Rognvald of the issue of our expedition."

They all spoke up in quick denial.

"No, no, we stay with you, Swain," exclaimed Harald. "What, leave you here amongst strangers, with a wife——"

He broke off, but Swain accepted the implication without comment.

"No harm can come to me," he reassured them. "I have Erik here, who will be forecastleman for me when I go viking and aid me in governing the Manfolk; and I have plenty of my own stout carls left who will stay on with me. I can not keep Jarl Rognvald's henchmen to help me carve out a new fortune here. He may have need of them at home."

"That may be true of Thorar and Leif and their men," clamored Jarl Harald; "but there is no reason why I should not remain with you, Swain. Jarl Rognvald gives me no share in governing the islands, and here I can learn far more with you."

Swain smiled, for he had much love for the boy.

"No, no," he said. "I can not take on myself the responsibility of guarding your head as well as my own. Man will be no place for young jarls to learn war-making and statecraft while I am here. You go home with Thorar and Leif."

"But what is your purpose, Swain?" inquired Thorar heavily. "It is known to all of us that you already hold ample lands in the Orkneys. This estate may be as rich as a jarldom——"

"Seeing that it takes rank as a kingdom, and he who rules it is called king," commented Erik in his dry way.

"That may be, that may be," Leif took up the argument. "Still, Swain can be safer as a common boendr in Gairsey than as king in Man. And in Gairsey he would not have to own a shrew of a wife."

"My reasons are sufficiently good," said Swain. "Now that Gunni is dead, I am the last of my family, and seeing the extent of my feud with Olvir, it is possible that doom may overtake me suddenly. Therefore I must have sons to follow me, to exact vengeance for me, if necessary, and to hold my lands."

"But you can have sons in Gairsey as well as in Man," objected Jarl Harald.

"Yes, and if I go to Gairsey now I shall have to abandon Man. It is a rich land, and with peace for its folk and protection against marauders it will become richer. Also, it is a good base for raids to Irland and Bretland and the southern Frankish lands; and here, too, I can watch all who go up and down the waters of Irland's Haf, and so I can more readily come by news of Olvir Rosta even than at home in the Orkneys. Until Erik and I have put the farmers back to work and taught marauders to keep away I shall stay here. After that I can spend part of my time in the Orkneys."

"And so we are to leave you by yourself!" mourned young Jarl Harald.

Swain patted the boy's shoulder.

"You will come again. Jarl Rognvald will send you south in the Spring with longships to join my viking cruises. I will employ the Winters to mark down opportunities for plunder."

Erik drained his ale-horn.

"He is a wise man, Swain," he remarked. "But it is unfortunate he is not wise enough to be able to secure another wife than Ingrid."

Swain's jaw set squarely.

"Do not concern yourself about her," he growled. "I will tame her with the butt of my spear."

"Yes, yes, that is all very well," grumbled Erik. "You can beat her, but how are you going to curb the evil vanity that is inside her? Remember the trolls who strove to capture the sunshine; they are laboring yet."

This Erik, himself, was a very wise man, in after years accounted one of the wisest who ever came into the Orkneys; with a great store of runes and skalds' sayings and no small skill at verse-making. He was a strong friend to Swain, as shall be told hereafter.

 

VII

JARL HARALD, with Thorar and Leif, sailed north at the end of the Summer. To Thorar Swain gave this message for Asleif:

"Olvir Rosta has taken Gunni's life. This I could not help, and you may be sure that I shall not be slow to carry our vengance to Olvir when I discover where he is. Also, I have taken a wife, in order that I may have sons to inherit our lands and preserve the feud if I perish. For a while I dwell in Man, but the Orkneys will see me again. In the meantime, I commend you to the care of Odin and the blessed St. Magnus."

To Jarl Rognvald he likewise sent a message by Jarl Harald:

"If I do not sit with you at the high table in the long nights this Winter do not forget me, Lord Jarl, for I shall live to be with you again. I am taking the counsel you gave me concerning the getting of sons. If the booty I send you with your people seems sufficient reward for their efforts, let me have Thorar and Leif next Summer, for there are rich spoils to be secured in these seas."

It is to be told in this connection that Jarl Rognvald was much pleased with the spoil Swain sent to him, and Thorar and Leif, not to speak of young Jarl Harald, and all their men spread the tidings of Swain's new dignity and estate all through the islands, so that during the Winter people talked of very little else, and it became a saying—

"Common man is King of Man."

Jarl Rognvald never tired of questioning the members of the expedition about Swain's exploits, and he delighted especially to hear from Jarl Harald of Ingrid.

"That is a filly I would walk wide of," he would say. "But it is like Swain to do things differently from other men. Nevertheless, I think he will be wise to watch her closely."

Asleif said nothing when Swain's message was given to her, except to inquire of Thorar what kind of woman Ingrid was, and the best Thorar could do was to mumble that she was fair to look at, but had a strange temper.

"Swain will curb her," answered Asleif proudly.

Then she sent messengers through the islands hiring men to aid her housecarls to harvest the crops, since they were shorthanded in Gairsey and on Swain's lands in Caithness also, by reason of the absence of all those who had sailed with Swain in the Spring. Men were quick to aid her because all desired to stand well in Swain's estimation.

During the Winter and the following Spring Swain and Erik were very busy. They established look-out stations on the coasts of Man to make it easier to discover the approach of raiding-parties, and Swain removed his residence from Stikleborg to a steading in the center of the island whence he could shift his men readily in any direction. He encouraged the farmers to plant full crops and gave assistance to such as had suffered damage to their property. In this way he became very popular, and the Manfolk gave him true allegiance.

He kept Ingrid under guard of men he could place confidence in, the oldest and most savage of his housecarls, for he was anxious that no harm should befall her; and he had his reward in the Summer of the next year when she gave birth to twin boys, Olaf and Andres. He was so pleased at this that he held an ale-drinking for his men at which the guests sat for two days and three nights, and it was said there were not five sober men on the island, aside from himself who drank nothing but water.

"My luck has turned," he said to Erik. "Here are two swordsmen at a stroke."

"Why stop at two?" replied Erik, who saw how his mind worked.

Swain shook his head.

"I have sufficient lands for two sons, but if I had more they would be fighting amongst themselves."

"A woman must raise children or trouble," warned Erik.

"I will take care that she is harmless," rejoined Swain.

In truth, Ingrid was so occupied with her twins that she was less trouble than she had ever been, and Swain went viking cruising in late Summer with Jarl Rognvald's men, who had come south in three dragons, young Jarl Harald commanding his own. They gained much loot in Irland and along the Bretland coasts, but nowhere did they hear anything of Olvir Rosta, who had disappeared completely from those parts.

Swain asked his friends from the Orkneys if they had heard of Holdbodi when they traversed the Sudreyar, and they told him that his former ally had never returned to his ravaged lands. Swain set small store by this information, but Erik gave it much thought.

"Holdbodi left us with booty sufficient to restore his property," said the Icelander. "If he did not do so it was because he had plans to use it otherwise."

"He is a marauder who has no use for lands," returned Swain.

"No, no, Swain, all men crave land. What do the skalds say?

 

"Summer for the sea,
Winter for the land,
Work for the foot,
Work for the hand."

 

"At any rate, he does not bother us, so we need not concern ourselves," said Swain. "I am not afraid of a Sudreyar fox."

"When the fox joined the wolf the farmyard was emptied," said Erik.

In the Autumn of the year Jarl Harald, who was now grown much in stature and wisdom and sweetness of character, sailed North with the Orkneyfolk; and Swain and Erik turned their attention to harvesting abundant crops. Swain looked forward to a peaceful Winter, sitting about the hearthfire with his chiefs, talking over old times and raids and fights and listening to Erik's recitation of sagas and wise sayings. He was a very restless, domineering man, fond of his will in all things, and he liked the sensation of being ruler of his own dominions, for friendly as he was at home in the Orkneys with Jarl Rognvald there had been times when it irked him to admit the suzerainty of another. Here in Man his word was law; people did what he bade them without question or suffered the consequences. Only Erik ever questioned him, and the Icelander's ripe wit was ample excuse for independence. But Ingrid would not have it that he should dwell in peace and happiness apart from her, and when he resisted her first attempts to sally from her bower and join him at the high table or by the hearth she turned on him like a treed wildcat.

"All that you enjoy here you had of me. Will you treat me like the cattle in the stable?"

"If it suits me to," replied Swain simply.

She tossed back her black hair.

"It is to be seen that you are a man of great nobility!" she cried. "Have I not given myself to you, and all that I own? Is it so you reward a woman who put aside others that there might be room for you?"

"You did not give yourself; I took you," answered Swain. "As for others, Andrew was slain and Holdbodi I sent away. Be quiet, woman."

"Never while I have breath! I am the mother of your sons——"

"And for that reason I permit you to bide with me. But do not strain my patience or I will get rid of you."

She gaped at him, almost believing that he meant what he said, so impassive was his manner.

"Ah, it is little you care for me or for them," she screamed. "Sad will be their lot with such a brute for father! And I am fittingly rewarded for the love and service I have given you, I who could have wed with——"

"You were for wedding the first man who came hither with strength to take you," said Swain. "Now be silent!"

"Silent? Never while I have strength to tell you how I hate you, you hairy beast of the North! There is cold, green icewater in your veins and your eyes make me think of the marshlights the evil spirits send abroad to tempt us from the down paths. You are a great troll that some wizard has put a spell upon, and——"

At that Swain could bear no more of her, and he took his spear from where it leaned against the wall and beat her soundly with the shaft until she was quite black-and-blue and had tearfully promised that she would do whatever he commanded and not otherwise. More than once in the succeeding months he was obliged to threaten her, but he never had occasion to beat her a second time.

The Winter passed without incident, and there was an unusually early a Spring. Jarl Harald came from the Orkneys with four longships, and proposed that this year they should extend their viking cruise to the coasts of Valland^[15] and Spainland, and as Swain felt an itch for adventure after the dull months that had passed, he consented, thinking, too, that in far-off waters they might come upon a trace of Olvir Rosta.

This tale tells no more of Swain's cruise with young Jarl Harald, except that they had with them seven dragons and acquired much honor and considerable store of plunder, especially from a certain rich city of the heathen in Spainland. They parted company off the Syllingar on their home voyage, Jarl Harald returning to the Orkneys by the east coast of Bretland and Scotland and Swain continuing direct to Man where he had left Erik in charge of his interests, for lack of a substantial chief among the Manfolk.

Erik climbed aboard Deathbringer so soon as Swain beached his dragons on Stikleborg strand.

"I perceive that you have had good fortune, Swain," he said, noting the chests of cloth and jewels and valuable weapons and armor which the crew were preparing to shift ashore.

"It was a profitable voyage," answered Swain. "Has all gone well here?"

"Yes and no," replied Erik. "We have had a visit from Holdbodi."

"You beat him off?" exclaimed Swain.

"No, he came in peace, openly. He asked for you, saying that he was establishing himself on Lund,^[16] and desired you to know that he was there and that he hoped to effect friendly terms with you."

"Humph," said Swain. "In any case, he can do us no harm."

"You are very foolish to say so," replied Erik energetically. "Holdbodi is not one to forget a grudge."

"If he could not harm you while I was absent with so many men, he can do no harm with me here," insisted Swain. "Had he more than one ship?"

"Two. If he comes again——"

"We shall be ready for him. After the harvest is in I will sail over to Lund with sufficient men and make certain of his friendship."

"Yes, that will be best," agreed Erik.

 

VIII

BECAUSE of the early Spring there was an unusually bountiful harvest that Autumn, and Swain and his men were hard put to it to gather in the crops before the northerly rains began. Swain did all things thoroughly, and he was as careful in the matter of harvesting the produce of his lands as he was in the conduct of his dragon at sea. He distributed the single men among his housecarls to those farms which were most in need of assistance, and as soon as one farmer's crops were stored that farmer and his men were sent to help another farmer. In this way the work went on apace.

He, himself, with his family and Erik, dwelt in the steading at Scaurfell near the center of the island, to which he had removed at first in order to keep his main force in a position whence it could be dispatched rapidly to any spot on the coasts which was attacked by marauders. He was given to saying that a borg was good enough for fighting purposes, but it was no place to live in by ordinary. And another reason for his preference for Scaurfell over Stikleborg was that it enabled him to supervise the several districts of the island to better advantage.

Scaurfell was just such a steading as those he had left behind him in the Orkneys. There was a skalli, with a chapel and the customary barns and outhouses; and farther up the slope of the fell was a small village. Swain, of course, lived in the skalli. He and Erik slept together in a chamber on the right of the entrance. Across the hall was Ingrid's bower and the room in which the two children slept. A handful of servants had quarters off the kitchen and others were lodged in the outhouses; but there were very few housecarls about, because, as has been said, Swain had scattered them through the farms to help in getting in the crops.

Ingrid was quieter and less sullen than her wont after Swain's return home; and she did not, as she had the year before, oppose objections to moving from Stikleborg. Erik commented upon this several nights after their arrival at the steading, but Swain laughed at him.

"The Irish cat has learned her lesson," he said. "We have no trouble with her any longer."

Erik wagged his head solemnly.

"What did I say before?" he returned. "A woman raises children or trouble."

"She has children to raise," answered Swain.

"Oh, for those two she no longer has any care. She leaves them all day to the bower maidens, and has since they were weaned."

Swain frowned.

"I am glad you mentioned this," he said. "I should have realized that she was not a proper person to rear them. In the Spring I will send them North to my mother, Asleif."

Erik agreed that this would be a wise policy, and they turned their discussion to the question of shedding over the dragons at Stikleborg, arguing as to whether they should leave all in the water until Swain had been to Lund or drag up at once such as he would not use. They decided to leave them in the water, as the harvest would be reaped by the end of the week, and in another week Swain could compass his voyage to Lund. Then Erik had a last horn of ale, and they went to bed.

Toward morning Swain was aroused by a confused clamor outside the house. His couch was beneath a small window high in the wall and parallel to the skalli's entrance door, and he climbed upon a stool to peer out. There was a fog, so that the dark was dripping with pearly gray moisture, and it was impossible to see more than a spear's length off; but Swain had sharp ears, and he heard the shuffling of many feet, the muttering of voices, and the occasional clink of a sword-blade on shield or mail-coat. He did not stay to hear more, for he knew that visitors who approached by stealth at that hour could be up to no good.

He leaped softly from his perch, and crossed to Erik's couch, covering the Icelander's mouth with one hand he whispered in his ear—

"Enemies at the door!"

Erik sat bolt upright, and seized helm, sword and shield in three consecutive movements from the stool beside him.

"Who?" he whispered back.

"I cannot see; but there are many."

"We can hold the skalli until help comes from the outlying steadings," suggested Erik.

"No," denied Swain. "They would fire us—and we must think of Ingrid and the sons. Come!"

They slipped into the shadowy mystery of the hall, which was barely illumined by the embers on the hearth, and crossed it to Ingrid's door. Inside the bower Swain felt his way to the couch, and fumbled with his hand to cover her lips, lest she should scream. She was not there!

Faintly, he heard the creak of an opening door, the shuffling of feet on trodden dirt, the sh-shrring of trampled rushes. Erik stole up beside him.

"They are in, Swain."

"Yes, and the Irish cat leading them," muttered Swain grimly.

Erik made a quick pass over the couch.

"At any rate, she is not here," he agreed. "Well, do we die here, Swain, or elsewhere?"

"Nowhere, little man," whispered Swain. "We will take the sons, and flee."

There was a door between Ingrid's bower and the chamber in which the children lay. On a stool in one corner a night lamp of whale-oil burned. One of the bower maidens started up with fearful face, clutching her furs around her, at sight of the two armed men who stole through the shadows.

"Up, girl!" commanded Swain. "There are enemies in the skalli. Take the babes."

She reached for robe and shoon, but Swain shook his head.

"There is no time. Haste!"

He caught her arm, and pulled her to the outer wall of the room, where, high under the eaves, was another such window as that through which he had spied upon the enemies who had thought to surprize him as he slept. The girl—Ragna by name—he bundled up in his arms, kicked a stool before him to stand upon and thrust her through the opening.

"Hold to my hands," he bade her. "Now drop."

He turned, and Erik behind him, held up the squirming piles that were his sons.

"Good warriors, these," growled the Icelander. "They take bad luck without yelping."

Swain passed them out the window to the maid without reply. Then hauled himself through, dropped to the ground and turned to assist Erik down. As the Icelander dropped beside him there came a shout from the hall.

"Torches, here! Our birds have flown!"

"Holdbodi's voice," exclaimed Erik.

Swain stood, listening.

A second voice, deeper, more resonant, bitter with hatred, called:

"Watch the rear! Make a ring, carls! Torches to smoke them out!"

"Ha," mumbled Swain. "That is Olvir Rosta."

A woman's voice wailed before Erik might answer him.

"The devil is his friend! After him, Holdbodi, or he will escape—and if he gets free your life is not worth a rusty dagger, or mine, either."

"It seems that Ingrid has had a hand in this matter, also," commented Erik.

Swain cursed in his beard.

"I will attend to all of them," he snarled. "Her fears were not without cause. But now we must run from here as fast as we can."

He and Erik took the two children from Ragna's arms, and with her ran in and out between the scattered outbuildings of the steading, taking advantage of the shadows, until they came to a ravine which protected them from observation. Here they halted a moment, watching the glare of flames behind them; and Swain sent Ragna to raise a number of his housecarls who had been lodged in an outlying barn. Erik likewise ventured back a short distance to call up a group of farmers and servingmen who had been roused by the uproar and were wandering about in bewilderment. One of these men had a ludr-horn, and at Erik's suggestion he sounded it with all the strength of his lungs.

Presently, Ragna returned with the housecarls from the barn, and men began to drift down from the village nearby. From the surrounding hills and valleys came the blasts of other horns, as the folk of the different steadings were awakened, and passed on the alarm. And Swain knew that very shortly he should have a large force at his disposal. So he bade Ragna take the children, and hide them in a little wood, and with the men who had joined him he climbed up from the ravine and took his stand upon a hillside within view of the flames of Scaurfell steading.

"See how foolish it is to plot any deed with a woman," he said, as the invaders caught sight of his party and commenced to stream toward them. "She told them that they could surprize me, and they believed that they could, and therefore they did not even stop to cast a ring around the skalli, as they would have had they acted alone. I have had my fill of women, Erik. They are stones about men's necks."

"Some men must have sons," rejoined Erik.

"And having them need no longer be burdened," answered Swain savagely. "When this is over I will give Ingrid fitting punishment."

"Give her to Holdbodi," suggested Erik. "Punish both of them."

"I will place her where she can no longer make trouble for men," said Swain.

"Humph," said Erik. "We have not yet caught her."

"We will," replied Swain with confidence. "I shall meet the onset with these men here. In the meantime, do you leave us and gather together our friends as they come up. Then, instead of falling upon Holdbodi and Olvir in scattered parties, they can strike all together; and in that way we shall shatter our enemies."

Erik said this was a wise plan, although he was reluctant to abandon Swain to confront such odds as he must meet at first; but he finally agreed to it, and ran off just as Olvir and Holdbodi came to the foot of the hillside. Their men were considerably winded, and they rested for a while before they commenced to climb the hill in order to come at Swain's company, who had formed a shield-ring upon the very summit of the hill, thus having the advantage of being able to strike down at their enemies, who must always be a little distance below them.

When Olvir, who was a warrior of much prowess and craft, perceived Swain's plan, he arrayed his men in a solid column, and ordered Holdbodi to do likewise with his Sudreyarmen. There were upwards of three hundred of the invaders, and Swain with all the accessions that had come to him had no more than a fourth as many. But Swain had as much craft as Olvir, and as soon as he saw where the two attacking columns must strike, he concentrated his people at those points, leaving only a thin screen of men to guard the rest of the hilltop.

Olvir and Holdbodi tramped leisurely up the hill. By now the darkness had lifted, but the fog persisted, and everything showed gray and indistinct. Olvir's men, Icelanders and outlaws of all the North countries, loomed gigantic in the mist. Holdbodi's folk showed like distorted, hairy gnomes. Their eyebrows, their moustaches, their garments, even their weapons dripped with moisture.

At the break of the hill the attackers halted, and Olvir stepped from their ranks, his squat figure, with immensely long arms, distorted out of all proportion by the tricky fight.

"Stand forth, Swain," he called. "I have waited for long this hour."

Swain stepped from the shield-wall.

"It is to be seen that you finally became tired of running away, Olvir," he answered. "You have gained little honor in recent years."

"Yet it was you who ran today," retorted Olvir. "The others of your family did not flee when I slew them. There were your father and Valthiof; they came out of the skalli at Dungelsbae to die upon our steel. And Gunni stood to the last on Seabroth's poop. Only you fled from me, you whose sole vengeance has been to burn Frakork, my mother, an old woman."

"And a foul witch," replied Swain with heat. "It ill becomes you to talk of running, you who feared to meet me alone in Deathbringer, ship to ship, after the fight off Jarlsness. There never was a time, Olvir, when you would fight any man with equal numbers. You must always come by stealth in the dark."

There was a kiss-ss-s in the fog, and a spear clanged into Swain's shield.

"Who cast that?" cried he.

"Yes, who cast it?" demanded Olvir. "Did I not say Swain was to be saved for me?"

"I threw it," answered Holdbodi's voice after a slight interval. "There is too much delay. Slay Swain, and be done with it."

Swain laughed in derision.

"It is not in you to slay me, Holdbodi," he mocked. "Nor any other."

"Men will say differently tomorrow," returned Holdbodi. "And tomorrow I shall sit in your place, with Ingrid beside me."

Swain snatched up the spear from the ground at his feet.

"What is that you say?" he shouted.

Holdbodi grew bolder and swaggered out of the fog until he stood revealed against the dim ranks of his followers.

"I say that Ingrid, who arranged our coming here, so that she might be rid of you, Swain, will sit with me in your place tonight," he boasted. "And we will laugh often as we speak together——"

Swain flung the spear at him with such violence that it drove through his thigh, below the bottom of his mail shirt, and pierced the soft ground of the hillside to a depth of two palms, pinning Holdbodi on his side. His shriek of pain was eerie in the moist grayness.

"I think you will pass your evening in another wise," remarked Swain. "And now, what have you to say, Olvir?"

"This," returned Olvir, casting his spear.

Olvir Rosta was the most powerful spear-thrower in the North. Also, Swain had not had time to don his mail-shirt before fleeing from the skalli, and he knew that while he might be able to fend Holdbodi's spear with his shield, Olvir's would strike through shield and all but the stoutest armor. So he cast himself to one side upon the ground, and Olvir's spear flew over him, slaying one of the farmers in the shield-wall behind him.

Swain sprang nimbly to his feet.

"Try again, Olvir," he cried. "That was mis-cast."

"The ax is surer," returned Olvir, taking that weapon from his belt. "Fall on, all."

A great shout answered him, and his men poured up the hill at his back in a dense mass. Holdbodi's men, too, came on at the word, but they had lost heart when their leader fell, and they did not strike the shield-wall with the same impact as the Icelanders, who, as many skalds have sung, are the stoutest of warriors, being, for the most part, men of good blood and inured to all manner of hardships.

The men Swain had told off to meet the Sudreyarfolk held them with little difficulty at the verge of the hill, but when Olvir's column hit the shield-wall it bent in, notwithstanding the best efforts of Swain, himself, who met Olvir blade to blade. There was a great clattering of weapons and a mighty stamping and shouting, and the heavy air became impregnated with the sour smell of sweating bodies and the hot, acrid stench of blood. Gaps opened in the shield-wall, and at Swain's shouted summons men flew from other points to stop them. The line receded, step by step, stopped, swayed forward for an instant, then gave ground again, as the irresistible weight of superior numbers began to tell.

With a shout, the tail of Olvir's column flowed round the scantily-guarded flank of Swain's wall and smote it in the rear—and it flew to pieces. What had been an ordered battle, men fighting shield to shield in regular formation, became a scattered affair of individual and group combats. Swain, himself, gathered a dozen men who were nearest to him, and strove to carry the fight to the enemy, hewing through their ranks in an effort to come up with Olvir, who was raging across the hilltop, scattering death with his huge ax.

But his vengeance was not to be achieved. A great wail came suddenly from where the Sudreyarfolk pounded the remnants of Swain's other detachment, and the jubilant shouting of many men in the fog.

"Run! Run! The Islandmen are upon us!"

"At them, Swain's folk!"

"Hold, Swain!" That was Erik's voice. "We are coming!"

Olvir Rosta stayed his advance, head cocked on one side to listen. Then his bull voice boomed over the confusion.

"Olvir's men to the strand! To the ships, all my folk!"

"Bide, Olvir," shouted Swain hoarsely. "Stand to it."

Olvir laughed as he ran over the edge of the hill.

"This is your day, after all, Swain. Another time."

"Be a man, you cur! Wait! You shall fight me, man to man, the winner to go free!"

But no answer came from the mist, and Swain stumbling in pursuit, almost fell upon the spears of his own people rushing along the side of the hill after the wreck of Holdbodi's men. They recognized him in time, and with him to lead them, took up the pursuit of the enemy. Past the steading, a charred ruin, outhouses still smoldering; past a little group of women clustered around one who wrung her hands and moaned; past stray corpses and discarded weapons on to a road which led to a disused cove on the southeastern coast. Men reinforced the pursuit at every crossroad, dropped from every cliff, appeared from scaur and gulley. But Olvir was wary and warwise. At each defensile place he left a small guard of berserk fighters, who died to the last man to give their comrades time to escape.

By mid-morning the mist was gone, and a watery sun shone down upon the running fight; but it was of scant use to Swain, and served principally to enable him to watch the embarkation of his enemies upon three dragons which were pushed off from the beach before his men were even within arrowshot. Helpless himself, because his longships were miles away at Stikleborg, he stood at the water's edge in sullen resentment, and raised his sword in a last gesture of defiance. Far across the leaden waters, a figure leaped upon the stern gunwale of the rearmost ship, and likewise heaved an ax aloft. No words could have carried across that broadening gap, but both men read the meaning without effort, implied threat and promise in one.

 

IX

WHEN Swain returned to Scaurfell he was met by Erik and] a multitude of the Manfolk.

"We have Holdbodi and Ingrid secured in a barn here," said Erik. "What is it your pleasure to do with them?"

"Fetch out Holdbodi," replied Swain briefly.

The Sudreyarman was carried from the barn and placed on the ground in the full glare of the fire by which Swain sat. He was unable to walk or stand erect because of the wound in his thigh, but he groveled on his face in front of Swain and pleaded for mercy.

"Mercy?" replied Swain. "I will show you as much mercy as I would a fox I found raiding the poultry."

"But I will tell you everything," protested Holdbodi. "I will tell you where Olvir is fled to."

"Tell," commanded Swain.

And Holdbodi fearfully whined out the story of how Olvir Rosta had come to him secretly at Liodhus in the past Winter, and suggested that they operate together to slay Swain and seize his possessions in Man; and how in the Spring they had both met with their men at Lund, and fortified themselves there, and as soon as they had determined that Swain was gone on his usual viking cruise, he, Holdbodi, had been sent to spy out the land.

"It was she who plotted last night's deed," he clamored. "It was not I, Swain. She planned it all. She told me where we should land, how we should approach the house. She promised to let us in without rousing you. She——"

"When did she promise this?" broke in Swain. "When you saw Erik at Stikleborg?"

"No, she made a sign to me during that visit to come again, and I came in the night afterward, and——"

"When? How?"

"Two nights after. We pretended to sail away, but we did not go far, and the second night we returned, and I landed quietly and climbed the walls of the borg and rapped upon her window."

Swain's face was blacker than ever.

"None knew of this?"

"I told Olvir afterward. He—he——"

"What said he?"

"No, you——"

Swain glowered down at him.

"Tell!"

"He said I should have her, and a fair half of the island."

"And she?"

"She was—was—willing. Oh, don't slay me, Swain! I'll be thrall to you; I'll serve you as none——"

"Take the snake away and make an end of it," ordered Swain curtly.

Holdbodi's shrieks were smothered in the darkness.

"And what of Ingrid?" inquired Erik curiously.

Swain roused himself.

"Yes, bring her forth, and muster three ships' crews. We march to Stikleborg at once."

When Erik led out his prisoner, sullen-faced and vicious, she flared at him:

"Go on! Make an end of me. You can tell Swain I did not fear him."

Erik surveyed her quizzically.

"Swain is gone on before, lady. It may be he will acquaint you with your doom later."

"Doom?" she spat. "What doom? At the worst, he can slay me."

"It is in my mind that you are very ignorant concerning your husband," replied the Icelander.

And no more would he say to her, however she badgered him.

They came to Stikleborg, and weary as they all were with marching and fighting, Swain bade run out Deathbringer and two other longships, loaded them full of men, with necessary provender, and headed southeast for Lund with a favoring wind. The rest of that night and the next day most of the crews slept, lying upon rowing-benches and in gangways; but thereafterward they were refreshed and they continued toward their destination without any untoward incident.

Ingrid was confined in the poop-cabin of Deathbringer. She saw none save Erick, who carried her food and water. Twice she called through the door to Swain, but the second time he came to her with such a look upon his face that she cowered, screaming, in the farthest corner of the cabin.

Lund they drew blank. There were signs that Olvir had stopped there after his flight from Man, for the stores inside the borg which he and Holdbodi had built were sorely depleted; but no human being remained to tell which way he had gone. And Swain, without a word, ordered his ships run out and continued southward.

Three days later, despite contrary winds, they came at nightfall to the Syllingar and ran into the harbor of the island wherein was situated the monastery at which Swain had stopped once before. He summoned Erik, with a dozen men to attend him, had Ingrid brought from the poop, and landed.

"What is this place?" she babbled, peering about her at the wild mingling of sea and sky and the insignificant dots of land between.

Nobody answered her.

"Will you murder me here, Swain?" she cried. "Was it too much kindness to slay me at home or to drown me in the sea? Must you carry me to this wretched haunt of devils and——"

Swain looked at her, and she became still, sobbing to herself in a frenzy of fear.

At the monastery gate Swain spoke with the gray-bearded old monk who had told him of having witnessed the passage of Olvir's dragon, escaping from the fray off Jarlsness.

"I have a woman here," said Swain simply. "I desire you to keep her for me."

The monk tossed up his hands in horror.

"Impossible! It is against our vows even to look at a woman."

"I might burn your monastery," considered Swain aloud.

The monk grasped his sleeve.

"No, no! You need only sail on to the next island—that little one where the light twinkles, in the east. There is a house of holy women where your charge could be well cared for."

"Could she get out?" demanded Swain.

"Get out! Why, she would not want to——"

"She might. I must be certain that she stays where I place her."

"That you must arrange with the abbess," replied the monk. "Doubtless a suitable gift——"

"Or a sincere threat," remarked Swain. "I grasp your meaning. And let me caution you to use your influence with the abbess to cause her to obey the commands I lay upon her, for if, for any cause, this woman escapes, I shall hold your establishment as well as hers to blame; and I will not leave one stone standing upon another."

Late that night the abbess of the nunnery on the adjoining island, the most remote establishment of religion in all the world, was called to her gate by a party of helmed vikings, whose heavy tread and clashing weapons sent a shiver of dread from end to end of her house. To her Swain explained his needs.

"This woman is my wife. She is a bad woman. She is a source of trouble for men. She is vain and wicked and selfish, and she thinks only of herself. I wish you to take her among you and keep her for the rest of her days. She is never to pass your walls again."

He paused and took from one of his men a heavy leathern bag, which he emptied before the abbess' eyes. A torrent of jewels and precious things cascaded from it.

"This will pay for your trouble," he added.

His terrible, cold blue eyes bored into the old woman's pale face.

"I am Swain Olaf's son," he said. "You will have heard of me. No man stands before me and lives. Do what I say, and I will see that your establishment is unharmed by the viking folk. Let this woman get away from you, and I will wreck your house, and sell you and your people into slavery in Serkland."^[17]

The abbess bowed.

"It shall be done," she promised. "You need have no fear."

Erik led forward Ingrid to the abbess' side.

"I wish you joy of her, lady," remarked the Icelander. "She is a rough-mouthed filly."

The abbess gave her a chill look.

"We have ways to handle such," she said.

Ingrid burst into a passion of wailing.

"Swain, Swain, Swain! Will you bury me alive in my youth? Will you give me to a living death?"

"Yes," replied Swain, "for you would have buried me in very death, and your sons with me. You fool! Do you think Olvir Rosta would have let children of mine live?"

And he turned on his heel and departed, heedless of the screams that followed him. No man ever saw the Lady Ingrid again. She goes out of this story as she went out of Swain's life and out of the world of living folk. A veil shut her off from her kind.

 

X

SWAIN sold his lands in Man, together with all the rights pertaining to them, to a Bretland Jarl, and with such of the Manfolk as cared to share his lot and his own housecarls and his two sons he went north in that Autumn to the Orkneys.

"I am no man to dwell an outlander," he said to Jarl Rognvald who welcomed him gladly. "And I would rather be a plain boendr in the Orkneys than King in Man, for a man savors the true zest of life only among his own kind."

"Your words prove to me that you have gained in wisdom, Swain," replied the Jarl merrily. "And if you care to take an Orkney wife, I am sure that Bishop William will see that the necessary——"

"One marriage is enough," interrupted Swain. "Having lived through it, I am not of a mind to tempt the gods again. I have enough to do in raising my sons and caring for my property, aside from the fact that I have yet to slay Olvir Rosta."

"That is a bad business," said Jarl Rognvald soberly. "If you and Olvir do not slay each other shortly, one or the other of you, you are like to be the death of every one in the North."

"What I can, I do," returned Swain, shrugging his shoulders.

Nevertheless, what Jarl Rognvald said was true, as all men agreed in future years. This feud was a sorry burden to folk who had not been born when it began.

From Orphir Swain journeyed to Gairsey where his mother greeted him with much pride. To her alone he bent his head.

"I have fared ill, mother," he said. "I have let Olvir slay Gunni, and twice more escape me; but I have brought you two sons to succeed us, and we are richer for my venturings."

Asleif kissed his forehead.

"Gunni died sword in hand, a ring of slain around him," she answered, her lined face very serene. "No man could ask more, nor could a mother desire a better death for her son. We will endeavor to bring up these younglings to be worthy to take his place. As for Olvir's escape, well I know it did not happen for want of your efforts."

For the next few years Swain remained at home, improving his lands and purchasing additional property in Caithness and Hrossey. All men who came to him he received into his employ. At Gairsey he maintained eighty housecarls at his own expense, and he reared upon his estate here a drinking-hall larger than any other in the North, where the mead bowl and the ale-barrel stood free and open from Winter's beginning to Winter's end. He had much honor, sitting always between Jarl Rognvald and Jarl Harald when they dispensed justice, and his sons grew into sturdy lads.

Those were the pleasantest years of his life. Olvir Rosta, men reported, had gone to Mikligard^[18] where he took service in the Vaering Guards of the Greek emperor and soon won high rank, so that for a space peace reigned in the Orkneys and young men who desired adventure had to fare overseas with Jarl Harald, who was viking bound every Spring.

——————

1. Lewis.
2. Hebrides
3. Britain.
4. Equipped, ready loaded.
5. Cape Wrath.
6. North Minch.
7. North Uist
8. Sky.
9. Tyree.
10. Islay.
11. Ulster.
12. Irish Sea.
13. Robert.
14. The Scyllies.
15. France.
16. Lundy Island in the Bristol Channel.
17. North Africa.
18. Constantinople.