CHAPTER XII.
MASKS REMOVED.
HIS captors held him fast upon the ground while they lashed his ankles with thongs and fastened his wrists behind his back. And then they lifted him and carried him for a distance through the woods, and finally put him down again. He could hear the whisperings of many men and the crackling of burning twigs—could feel the heat of a small fire.
He twisted and struggled, and after a time one of the men went forward and whipped the skin from around his head. Edvard Haakonsson whirled to one side and managed to sit up against the bole of a tree.
"What means this treachery?" he demanded.
In the semigloom he could see nothing at first, save the dusky and uncertain forms of moving men. That they were warriors he saw at a glance, for axes flashed in the reflection from the fire, and he saw shields and spears and bows.
None of them gave him answer. He rested for a moment and then managed to get to his feet, and there he leaned against the tree and tugged at his bonds, to find that his captors had done their work well indeed.
"What means this?" he demanded once more.
A man stepped up beside him, and Edvard saw in surprise that he was one of Svend's warriors, a lieutenant who had been left behind at Svend's house.
"We have but obeyed orders, jarl," he said. "Do not hold it against us."
"What orders? And who are these men? What do you here?"
"One comes who will tell you all," the warrior replied.
"You were told so to take me?"
"We were so told, jarl; commanded to make a captive of you as you came back through the woods."
"Loose me instantly!" Edvard commanded. "Whose orders can be greater than mine?"
"Svend is our jarl."
"Then these orders came from Svend?" Edvard asked in surprise.
"Not from Svend, perhaps, but with his sanction," the warrior replied. "One will come soon to explain it all."
Edvard thought on that for a moment, but he was not compelled to think for long. A guard called a low-voiced warning and was answered, and Magnus strode into the little clearing by the fire.
"Magnus!" There was venom in Edvard's voice now. "What means this treachery?"
Magnus leered at him and stood close, his fists braced against his hips.
"It is by Svend's permission," he said.
Why am I taken captive like an enemy?" Edvard demanded. "Did you issue the order?"
"I did, jarl!"
"By what authority?"
"By the permission of Svend the Bloody, I have said."
"What means it?"
"Now we come to the question," Magnus declared, stepping a pace closer.
"I demand an answer!"
"It is unusual for a prisoner to demand, but under the circumstances, I am disposed to reply," Magnus said. His words and manner were without respect, yet he felt sure of his ground now. "You saw fit to take a stroll through the woods. It was intended that you should remain in the big house. For, strolling through the woods, you met with something of which you should not have known—these good warriors of Svend's."
"What means their presence here?"
"Can you not guess?" Magnus asked. "Did you think that Svend the Bloody meant to cement friendship with Harald the Just? This kind invitation of Harald's for a visit but opened the way."
"You mean treachery?" Edvard gasped.
"I mean that when the feast begins, jarl, a signal will be given. And then our men in the house, and these of our forces outside will rush to combat and work their will upon Harald and his place."
"You mean an attack?"
"More than that, jarl—a victory for Odin and Thor! You were not told, because Svend feared to trust you, and with good reason, it seems. For you have looked upon Harald's daughter with eyes of love. One has observed you. Even now you have been paying a visit to some witch at her command. You might take it amiss that Svend slay Harald and wreck his house. Love ofttimes makes a fool of a man and causes him to forget his kin."
"And would I want to forget my kinsman if he did such a thing! " Edvard Haakonsson declared, hotly. "Does not Svend know the laws of hospitality?"
"He is big enough man to break them, when it serves his purpose to do so," Magnus said.
"No man is big enough to do that," the black jarl declared. "Loose me!"
"It is not time," Magnus said.
"What mean you?"
"To Thor shall be the victory! And every good soldier knows the value of surprise. You love the maid, and your heart is not in our plans. Were you to be freed, you might rush to the house of Harald and give the alarm!"
"It is true that I might."
"So here you remain, a prisoner, until the signal for attack is given. Then you will be freed and may join in the battle. But our plans cannot be wrecked when they have gone so far."
"I shall hold you to account for this!"
"When Thor triumphs, then I shall be at your service, jarl! I return now to the house. Rest easy in your bonds, for the signal soon will be given."
Without another word Magnus turned his back disrespectfully and disappeared in the darkness.
Once more Edvard Haakonsson tugged at his bonds and knew that he could not win free. He slumped down to the ground, against the bole of the tree. The others gave him scant attention, seemingly afraid to approach. But they watched him from a little distance, to see that he did not escape.
And now the horror of the thing claimed him, and he knew what the witch had meant. Svend had made his plans boldly. Harald would be off guard, expecting friendship, and would receive a blade. The men of Svend the Bloody would find things easy for them. Harald and his warriors would be struck down, and his thralls. Flames would complete the work. And Edvard guessed that the tale would be told afterward how the quarrel had been started by Harald.
And Thyra!
His heart sank when he thought of her. She might be hurt in the battle with none there to protect her. Even though she escaped, would she look once again at Svend's nephew?
In that moment Edvard Haakonsson knew that he had turned against his uncle and renounced kinship. He determined to fight on the side of Harald, though it cost him his life. He would protect the woman he loved, even against Svend the Bloody. For Svend was breaking sacred laws in the name of Odin and Thor.
Again he tugged at his bonds, and knew that he could not free himself. But he did not entirely despair. When the attack began, then would he be freed. He could rush to the house with the others, and wield blade. At least, he could take his stand in front of Thyra, and serve her to the end.
The warriors about him seemed like shadows in the woods. The tiny fire had died down to a mass of glowing embers. Svend's men knew that he was secure, and were giving him no attention. They were looking to their weapons, eager for the fray, talking of the loot they would have and the enemies they would slay. Curses for Harald and his house were upon their lips.
Edvard Haakonsson heard a slight noise behind him, but thought nothing of it. Some animal of the forest, attracted by the fire, he believed. But presently he heard a hiss, and his body stiffened.
"Master!" came a whisper. "It is Eric! I followed as you said!"
Edvard Haakonsson thrilled at the words.
"The dagger in my belt—take it!" he whispered. "Loose me!"
A hand came out of the darkness behind the trees and tugged at the belt. Edvard felt the dagger slip loose.
"Have a care!" he warned, his lips scarcely moving. "And work with speed!"
He felt the thongs around his wrist give as they were slashed. His hands came free. He reached back and took the dagger from Eric, and then waited a bit.
"Be ready to run, Eric," he whispered, "as soon as I have freed my ankles."
He made sure that none of the warriors was looking at him. Then his hands came swiftly from behind his back, and he slashed with the dagger. The thongs fell from his ankles, and he sprang to his feet.
A warrior turned and saw him, gave cry, and several men plunged toward the black jarl. But they were too late. Edvard Haakonsson crashed through the brush and so gained the trail, Eric the Dumb at his heels, and rushed along it toward the house of Harald.
An arrow sped past him, but he heeded it not. He bent lower, ran swifter. The shouts of pursuit died down. On he ran, stumbling over tangling vines and rocks. And finally he came to the edge of the clearing before the house of Harald—but too late!
For even as he dashed from the woods a man standing beside the great gates waved a torch above his head. From the big hall came the din of combat. And from the forest poured the warriors of Svend the Bloody to join in the fray!