Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Four.Hopes and Fears—The Burning of Haldorstede, and Escape of the Family.Meanwhile the family at Haldorstede had made a narrow escape, and some members of it were still in great peril. When Hilda and Ada were sent thither, with the females of Ulfstede, under the charge of Christian the hermit, as already related, they found Dame Herfrida and her maidens busily engaged in making preparations for a great feast.“I prithee,” said Dame Astrid, in some surprise, “who are to be thy guests to-night?”“Who should be,” replied Herfrida, with a smile, “but the stout fellows who back my husband in the fight to-day! Among them thine own goodman, Dame Astrid, and his house-carles; for if no one is left at Ulfstede there can be no supper there for them; and as the poor lads are likely to be well worn out, we must have something wherewith to cheer them.”“But what if ill luck betide us?” suggested Astrid.“Ill luck never betides us,” replied Herfrida, with an expression of bland assurance on her handsome face. “Besides, if it does, we shall be none the worse for having done our part.”“Somepeople are always forecasting evil,” muttered Ingeborg, with a sour look, as she kneaded viciously a lump of dough which was destined to form cakes.“And some other people are always forecasting good,” retorted Ada, with a smile, “so that things are pretty well balanced after all. Come now, Ingeborg, don’t be cross, but leave the dough, and let us go to thy room, for I want to have a little gossip with thee alone.”Ingeborg was fond of Ada, and particularly fond of a little gossip, either public or private. She condescended, therefore, to smile, as it were under protest, and, rubbing the dough from her fingers, accompanied her friend to her chamber, while the others broke into several groups, and chatted more or less energetically as they worked, or idled about the house.“Is there any fear of our men losing the day?” asked Hilda of the hermit, who stood looking out of a window which commanded a view of the fiord, where the ships of the opposing fleets could be seen engaged in the battle, that had just begun.Poor Hilda asked the question with a look of perplexity in her face; for hitherto she had been so much accustomed to success attending the expeditions of her warlike father and friends, that she had never given much thought to the idea of defeat and its consequences.“It is not easy to answer that question,” replied the hermit; “for the success or failure of thy father’s host depends on many things with which I am not acquainted. If the forces on both sides are about equal in numbers, the chances are in his favour; for he is a mighty man of valour, as well as his son, and also thy father. Besides, there are many of his men who are not far behind them in strength and courage; but they may be greatly outnumbered. If so, defeat is possible. I would say it is probable, did I not know that the Ruler of events can, if He will, give victory to the weak and disaster to the strong. Thy father deems his cause a righteous one—perhaps it is so.”“Well, then,” said Hilda, “will not God, who, you say, is just and good, give victory to the righteous cause?”“He may be pleased to do so; but He does not always do so. For His own good and wise ends He sometimes permits the righteous to suffer defeat, and wrongdoers to gain the victory. This only do I know for certain, that good shall come out of all things to His people, whether these things be grievous or joyful; for it is written, ‘All things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose.’ This is my consolation when I am surrounded by darkness which I cannot understand, and which seems all against me. That things often pass my understanding does not surprise me; for it is written, ‘His ways are wonderful—past finding out.’”“Past finding out indeed!” said Hilda thoughtfully. “Would that I had faith like thine, Christian; for it seems to enable thee to trust and rejoice in darkness as well as in sunshine.”“Thou mayst have it, daughter,” answered the hermit earnestly, “if thou wilt condescend to ask it in the name of Jesus; for it is written, ‘Faith is the gift of God;’ and again it is written, ‘Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, He will give it you.’ One of our chief sins consists in our desire to produce, by means of our own will, that faith which God tells us we cannot attain to by striving after, but which He is willing to bestow as a free gift on those who ask.”The conversation was interrupted here by the old house-carle Finn the One-eyed, who said in passing that he was going down to the cliffs to see and hear what was doing, and would return ere long to report progress. For an hour after that, the people at Haldorstede continued to watch the fight with intense interest; but although they could see the motion of the ships on the fiord, and could hear the shout of war, as it came floating down on the breeze like a faint murmur, the distance was too great to permit of their distinguishing the individual combatants, or observing the progress of the fight. That it was likely to go ill with their friends, however, was soon made known by Finn, who returned in hot haste to warn them to prepare for flight.“Be sure,” said Dame Herfrida, “that there is no need to flee until Haldor or Erling come to tell us to get ready.”“That may be so,” said Finn; “but if Haldor and Erling should chance to be slain, ill will it be for you if ye are not ready to fly.”“Now it seems to me,” said Dame Astrid, who was of an anxious temperament, “that thou art too confident, Herfrida. It would be wise at all events to get ready.”“Does anyone know where Alric is?” asked Ingeborg.As everyone professed ignorance on this point, his mother said that she had no doubt he was safe enough; for he was a bold little man, and quite able to take care of himself.“If he has had his own way,” observed Ivor the Old, who came in at that moment, “he is in the fleet for he is a true chip of the old tree; but we are not like to see him again, methinks, for I have seen the fleet giving back on the right wing, and hasted hither to tell ye.”This report had the effect of shaking Herfrida’s confidence to the extent of inducing her to give up her preparations for the feast, and assist the others in making arrangements for a hasty flight with such household valuables as could be easily carried about the person. Some time after they had begun this work, a young man, who was a cripple, and therefore a non-combatant, hobbled into the hall, and announced the fact that Haldor’s fleet was routed everywhere, and fleeing. He had seen it from the cliff behind the stede, and indeed it could partly be seen from the hall window.“Now,” cried Finn the One-eyed bitterly, “all is lost, and I must carry out Erling’s last instructions. He told me, if the fight went against us, and the King’s men gained the day, I was to lead ye down by the forest path to the cave behind Ulfstede, where there is a ship big enough to carry the whole household. If alive, he and his friends are to meet us there. Come, we must make haste; some of the ships are already on the beach, and if they be the King’s men we shall soon see them here.”Everyone was now so thoroughly convinced of their desperate case that without reply each went to complete arrangements as fast as possible.“Wilt thou go with us?” said Finn to the hermit, when all were assembled in front of the house at the edge of the forest.“I will, since God seems to order it so,” said the hermit; “but first I go to my hut for the rolls of the Book. As ye have to pass the bottom of the cliff on which my dwelling is perched, I will easily overtake you.”“Let us go with him,” said Hilda to Ada. “There is a roll in the hut which Erling and I have been trying to copy; Christian may not be able to find it, as I hid it carefully away—and,” she continued, blushing slightly, “I should not like to lose it.”“You had better go withus,” said Finn gravely.“We will do what seems best to ourselves,” replied Ada; “go on, Christian, we follow.”The hermit advised the girls to go with Finn, but as they were self-willed he was fain to conduct them up the steep and narrow path that led to his hut upon the cliff, while Finn put himself at the head of a sad band of women, children, and aged retainers, who could advance but slowly along the rugged and intricate path which he thought it necessary to take through the forest.Not twenty minutes after they had left Haldorstede the first band of King Harald’s men came rushing up the banks of the river, enraged at having found Ulfstede deserted, and thirsting for plunder. They ran tumultuously into the house, sword in hand, and a yell of disappointment followed when they discovered that the inmates had fled. There is no doubt that they would have rushed out again and searched the woods, had not the feast which Herfrida had been preparing proved too attractive. The cold salmon and huge tankards of ale proved irresistible to the tired and thirsty warriors, who forthwith put the goblets to their bearded lips and quaffed the generous fluid so deeply that in a short time many of them were reeling, and one, who seemed to be more full of mischief than his fellows, set the house on fire by way of a joke.It was the smoke which arose after the perpetration of this wanton act that had attracted the attention of Haldor and his friends, when they were making for the shore after the battle.Of course the hermit and the two girls heard the shouts of the marauders, and knew that it was now too late to escape along with the baud under Finn, for the only practicable path by which they could join them passed in full view of Haldorstede, and it was so hemmed in by a precipice that there was no other way of getting into the wood—at least without the certainty of being seen. Their retreat up the river was also cut off, for the hermit, in selecting the spot for his dwelling, had chosen a path which ascended along the rugged face of a precipice, so that, with a precipice above and another below, it was not possible to get to the bank of the river without returning on their track. There was no alternative, therefore, but to ascend to the hut, and there wait patiently until the shades of night should favour their escape.Finn pushed on as fast as was possible with a band in which there were so many almost helpless ones. He carried one of the youngest children in his arms, and Ivor the Old brought up the rear with a very old woman leaning on his arm. They were a long time in descending the valley, for the route Finn had chosen was circuitous, and the first part of it was extremely trying to the cripples, running as it did over a somewhat high spur of the mountain which extended down from the main ridge to the river. Gradually, however, they drew near to the coast, and Finn was in the act of encouraging them with the assurance that they had now only a short way to go, when the hearts of all sank within them at the sight of a band of armed men who suddenly made their appearance in their path.The wail of despair which burst from some of them at sight of these, was, however, changed into an exclamation of joy when four of the band ran hastily towards them, and were recognised to be Haldor, Erling, Ulf, and Glumm!“Now thanks be to the gods,” said Haldor, stooping to print a kiss on his wife’s lips. “But—but—where are Hilda and Ada?”Erling and Glumm, glancing quickly round the group with looks of intense disappointment and alarm, had already put this question to Finn, who explained the cause of their absence.“Now this is the worst luck of all,” cried Glumm, grinding his teeth together in passion, and looking at Finn with a dark scowl.Erling did not speak for a few minutes, but his heaving chest and dilated nostrils told of the storm that raged within him.“Art thou sure they went to the hermit’s hut?” asked Ulf in a stern voice.“Quite sure,” replied Finn. “I cautioned them not to go, but—”“Enough,” cried Erling. “Father, wilt thou go back to the cave with the women, and a few of the men to guard them?”“I will, my son, and then will I rejoin thee.”“That do an it please thee. It matters little. Death must come sooner or later to all.—Come, men, we will now teach this tyrant that though he may conquer our bodies he cannot subdue our spirits. Up! and if we fail to rescue the girls, everlasting disgrace be to him who leaves this vale alive!”Haldor had already selected a small detachment of men, and turned back with the women and others, while Erling and his men went on as fast as they could run. A short time sufficed to bring them to the edge of the wood near Haldorstede. The old place was now a smoking ruin, with swarms of men around it, most of whom were busily engaged in trying to put out the fire, and save as much as possible from its fury. The man who had kindled it had already paid dearly for his jest with his life. His body was seen swinging to the limb of a neighbouring tree. Harald Fairhair himself, having just arrived, was directing operations.There were by that time one or two thousand of the King’s men on the ground, while others were arriving every moment in troops—all bloodstained, and covered with marks of the recent conflict—and Erling saw at once he had no chance whatever of accomplishing his aim by an open attack with only fifty men. He therefore led his force silently by a path that he well knew to an adjacent cliff, over the edge of which they could see all that went on below, while they were themselves well concealed. Here the three leaders held a consultation.“What dost thou advise, Ulf?” asked Erling.“Myadvice,” interposed Glumm fiercely, “is that we should make a sudden assault without delay, kill the King, and then sell our lives dearly.”“And thus,” observed Ulf, with something like a sneer, “leave the girls without protectors, and without a chance of deliverance. No,” he continued, turning to our hero, “my advice is to wait here as patiently as we can until we ascertain where the girls are. Few, perhaps none, of our men are known to Harald’s men; one of them we can send down to mingle with the enemy as a spy. Whatever we do must be done cautiously, for the sake of the girls.”“That is good advice,” said a voice behind them, which was that of the hermit, who had crept towards them on his hands and knees.“Why, Christian, whence comest thou?” said Ulf.“From my own hut,” replied the hermit, raising himself, “where I have just left Hilda and Ada safe and well. We had deemed ourselves prisoners there till night should set us free; but necessity sharpens the wit even of an old man, and I have discovered a path through the woods, which, although difficult, may be traversed without much chance of our being seen, if done carefully. I have just passed along it in safety, and was on the point of returning to the hut when I came upon you here.”“Lead us to them at once,” cried Glumm, starting up.“Nay,” said the hermit, laying his hand on the youth’s arm, “restrain thine ardour. It would be easier to bring the girls hither, than to lead a band of armed men by that path without their being discovered. If ye will take the advice of one who was a warrior in his youth, there is some hope that, God permitting, we may all escape. Ye know the Crow Cliff? Well, the small boat is lying there. It is well known that men dare not swim down the rapid, unless they are acquainted with the run of the water and the formation of the rock. Thy men know it well, the King’s men know it not. With a boat the maidens may descend in safety. The men can leap into the river and escape before the enemy could come at them by the hill road.”“Excellently planned,” exclaimed Erling in an eager tone; “but, hermit, how dost thou propose to fetch the maidens hither?”“By going and conducting them. There is much risk, no doubt, but their case is desperate, for their retreat is certain to be discovered.”“Away then,” said Ulf, “minutes are precious. We will await thee here, and, at the worst, if they should be captured, we can but die in attempting their rescue.”Without uttering another word the hermit rose, re-entered the underwood, sank down on his hands and knees, and disappeared with a cat-like quietness that had been worthy of one of the red warriors of America.

Meanwhile the family at Haldorstede had made a narrow escape, and some members of it were still in great peril. When Hilda and Ada were sent thither, with the females of Ulfstede, under the charge of Christian the hermit, as already related, they found Dame Herfrida and her maidens busily engaged in making preparations for a great feast.

“I prithee,” said Dame Astrid, in some surprise, “who are to be thy guests to-night?”

“Who should be,” replied Herfrida, with a smile, “but the stout fellows who back my husband in the fight to-day! Among them thine own goodman, Dame Astrid, and his house-carles; for if no one is left at Ulfstede there can be no supper there for them; and as the poor lads are likely to be well worn out, we must have something wherewith to cheer them.”

“But what if ill luck betide us?” suggested Astrid.

“Ill luck never betides us,” replied Herfrida, with an expression of bland assurance on her handsome face. “Besides, if it does, we shall be none the worse for having done our part.”

“Somepeople are always forecasting evil,” muttered Ingeborg, with a sour look, as she kneaded viciously a lump of dough which was destined to form cakes.

“And some other people are always forecasting good,” retorted Ada, with a smile, “so that things are pretty well balanced after all. Come now, Ingeborg, don’t be cross, but leave the dough, and let us go to thy room, for I want to have a little gossip with thee alone.”

Ingeborg was fond of Ada, and particularly fond of a little gossip, either public or private. She condescended, therefore, to smile, as it were under protest, and, rubbing the dough from her fingers, accompanied her friend to her chamber, while the others broke into several groups, and chatted more or less energetically as they worked, or idled about the house.

“Is there any fear of our men losing the day?” asked Hilda of the hermit, who stood looking out of a window which commanded a view of the fiord, where the ships of the opposing fleets could be seen engaged in the battle, that had just begun.

Poor Hilda asked the question with a look of perplexity in her face; for hitherto she had been so much accustomed to success attending the expeditions of her warlike father and friends, that she had never given much thought to the idea of defeat and its consequences.

“It is not easy to answer that question,” replied the hermit; “for the success or failure of thy father’s host depends on many things with which I am not acquainted. If the forces on both sides are about equal in numbers, the chances are in his favour; for he is a mighty man of valour, as well as his son, and also thy father. Besides, there are many of his men who are not far behind them in strength and courage; but they may be greatly outnumbered. If so, defeat is possible. I would say it is probable, did I not know that the Ruler of events can, if He will, give victory to the weak and disaster to the strong. Thy father deems his cause a righteous one—perhaps it is so.”

“Well, then,” said Hilda, “will not God, who, you say, is just and good, give victory to the righteous cause?”

“He may be pleased to do so; but He does not always do so. For His own good and wise ends He sometimes permits the righteous to suffer defeat, and wrongdoers to gain the victory. This only do I know for certain, that good shall come out of all things to His people, whether these things be grievous or joyful; for it is written, ‘All things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose.’ This is my consolation when I am surrounded by darkness which I cannot understand, and which seems all against me. That things often pass my understanding does not surprise me; for it is written, ‘His ways are wonderful—past finding out.’”

“Past finding out indeed!” said Hilda thoughtfully. “Would that I had faith like thine, Christian; for it seems to enable thee to trust and rejoice in darkness as well as in sunshine.”

“Thou mayst have it, daughter,” answered the hermit earnestly, “if thou wilt condescend to ask it in the name of Jesus; for it is written, ‘Faith is the gift of God;’ and again it is written, ‘Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, He will give it you.’ One of our chief sins consists in our desire to produce, by means of our own will, that faith which God tells us we cannot attain to by striving after, but which He is willing to bestow as a free gift on those who ask.”

The conversation was interrupted here by the old house-carle Finn the One-eyed, who said in passing that he was going down to the cliffs to see and hear what was doing, and would return ere long to report progress. For an hour after that, the people at Haldorstede continued to watch the fight with intense interest; but although they could see the motion of the ships on the fiord, and could hear the shout of war, as it came floating down on the breeze like a faint murmur, the distance was too great to permit of their distinguishing the individual combatants, or observing the progress of the fight. That it was likely to go ill with their friends, however, was soon made known by Finn, who returned in hot haste to warn them to prepare for flight.

“Be sure,” said Dame Herfrida, “that there is no need to flee until Haldor or Erling come to tell us to get ready.”

“That may be so,” said Finn; “but if Haldor and Erling should chance to be slain, ill will it be for you if ye are not ready to fly.”

“Now it seems to me,” said Dame Astrid, who was of an anxious temperament, “that thou art too confident, Herfrida. It would be wise at all events to get ready.”

“Does anyone know where Alric is?” asked Ingeborg.

As everyone professed ignorance on this point, his mother said that she had no doubt he was safe enough; for he was a bold little man, and quite able to take care of himself.

“If he has had his own way,” observed Ivor the Old, who came in at that moment, “he is in the fleet for he is a true chip of the old tree; but we are not like to see him again, methinks, for I have seen the fleet giving back on the right wing, and hasted hither to tell ye.”

This report had the effect of shaking Herfrida’s confidence to the extent of inducing her to give up her preparations for the feast, and assist the others in making arrangements for a hasty flight with such household valuables as could be easily carried about the person. Some time after they had begun this work, a young man, who was a cripple, and therefore a non-combatant, hobbled into the hall, and announced the fact that Haldor’s fleet was routed everywhere, and fleeing. He had seen it from the cliff behind the stede, and indeed it could partly be seen from the hall window.

“Now,” cried Finn the One-eyed bitterly, “all is lost, and I must carry out Erling’s last instructions. He told me, if the fight went against us, and the King’s men gained the day, I was to lead ye down by the forest path to the cave behind Ulfstede, where there is a ship big enough to carry the whole household. If alive, he and his friends are to meet us there. Come, we must make haste; some of the ships are already on the beach, and if they be the King’s men we shall soon see them here.”

Everyone was now so thoroughly convinced of their desperate case that without reply each went to complete arrangements as fast as possible.

“Wilt thou go with us?” said Finn to the hermit, when all were assembled in front of the house at the edge of the forest.

“I will, since God seems to order it so,” said the hermit; “but first I go to my hut for the rolls of the Book. As ye have to pass the bottom of the cliff on which my dwelling is perched, I will easily overtake you.”

“Let us go with him,” said Hilda to Ada. “There is a roll in the hut which Erling and I have been trying to copy; Christian may not be able to find it, as I hid it carefully away—and,” she continued, blushing slightly, “I should not like to lose it.”

“You had better go withus,” said Finn gravely.

“We will do what seems best to ourselves,” replied Ada; “go on, Christian, we follow.”

The hermit advised the girls to go with Finn, but as they were self-willed he was fain to conduct them up the steep and narrow path that led to his hut upon the cliff, while Finn put himself at the head of a sad band of women, children, and aged retainers, who could advance but slowly along the rugged and intricate path which he thought it necessary to take through the forest.

Not twenty minutes after they had left Haldorstede the first band of King Harald’s men came rushing up the banks of the river, enraged at having found Ulfstede deserted, and thirsting for plunder. They ran tumultuously into the house, sword in hand, and a yell of disappointment followed when they discovered that the inmates had fled. There is no doubt that they would have rushed out again and searched the woods, had not the feast which Herfrida had been preparing proved too attractive. The cold salmon and huge tankards of ale proved irresistible to the tired and thirsty warriors, who forthwith put the goblets to their bearded lips and quaffed the generous fluid so deeply that in a short time many of them were reeling, and one, who seemed to be more full of mischief than his fellows, set the house on fire by way of a joke.

It was the smoke which arose after the perpetration of this wanton act that had attracted the attention of Haldor and his friends, when they were making for the shore after the battle.

Of course the hermit and the two girls heard the shouts of the marauders, and knew that it was now too late to escape along with the baud under Finn, for the only practicable path by which they could join them passed in full view of Haldorstede, and it was so hemmed in by a precipice that there was no other way of getting into the wood—at least without the certainty of being seen. Their retreat up the river was also cut off, for the hermit, in selecting the spot for his dwelling, had chosen a path which ascended along the rugged face of a precipice, so that, with a precipice above and another below, it was not possible to get to the bank of the river without returning on their track. There was no alternative, therefore, but to ascend to the hut, and there wait patiently until the shades of night should favour their escape.

Finn pushed on as fast as was possible with a band in which there were so many almost helpless ones. He carried one of the youngest children in his arms, and Ivor the Old brought up the rear with a very old woman leaning on his arm. They were a long time in descending the valley, for the route Finn had chosen was circuitous, and the first part of it was extremely trying to the cripples, running as it did over a somewhat high spur of the mountain which extended down from the main ridge to the river. Gradually, however, they drew near to the coast, and Finn was in the act of encouraging them with the assurance that they had now only a short way to go, when the hearts of all sank within them at the sight of a band of armed men who suddenly made their appearance in their path.

The wail of despair which burst from some of them at sight of these, was, however, changed into an exclamation of joy when four of the band ran hastily towards them, and were recognised to be Haldor, Erling, Ulf, and Glumm!

“Now thanks be to the gods,” said Haldor, stooping to print a kiss on his wife’s lips. “But—but—where are Hilda and Ada?”

Erling and Glumm, glancing quickly round the group with looks of intense disappointment and alarm, had already put this question to Finn, who explained the cause of their absence.

“Now this is the worst luck of all,” cried Glumm, grinding his teeth together in passion, and looking at Finn with a dark scowl.

Erling did not speak for a few minutes, but his heaving chest and dilated nostrils told of the storm that raged within him.

“Art thou sure they went to the hermit’s hut?” asked Ulf in a stern voice.

“Quite sure,” replied Finn. “I cautioned them not to go, but—”

“Enough,” cried Erling. “Father, wilt thou go back to the cave with the women, and a few of the men to guard them?”

“I will, my son, and then will I rejoin thee.”

“That do an it please thee. It matters little. Death must come sooner or later to all.—Come, men, we will now teach this tyrant that though he may conquer our bodies he cannot subdue our spirits. Up! and if we fail to rescue the girls, everlasting disgrace be to him who leaves this vale alive!”

Haldor had already selected a small detachment of men, and turned back with the women and others, while Erling and his men went on as fast as they could run. A short time sufficed to bring them to the edge of the wood near Haldorstede. The old place was now a smoking ruin, with swarms of men around it, most of whom were busily engaged in trying to put out the fire, and save as much as possible from its fury. The man who had kindled it had already paid dearly for his jest with his life. His body was seen swinging to the limb of a neighbouring tree. Harald Fairhair himself, having just arrived, was directing operations.

There were by that time one or two thousand of the King’s men on the ground, while others were arriving every moment in troops—all bloodstained, and covered with marks of the recent conflict—and Erling saw at once he had no chance whatever of accomplishing his aim by an open attack with only fifty men. He therefore led his force silently by a path that he well knew to an adjacent cliff, over the edge of which they could see all that went on below, while they were themselves well concealed. Here the three leaders held a consultation.

“What dost thou advise, Ulf?” asked Erling.

“Myadvice,” interposed Glumm fiercely, “is that we should make a sudden assault without delay, kill the King, and then sell our lives dearly.”

“And thus,” observed Ulf, with something like a sneer, “leave the girls without protectors, and without a chance of deliverance. No,” he continued, turning to our hero, “my advice is to wait here as patiently as we can until we ascertain where the girls are. Few, perhaps none, of our men are known to Harald’s men; one of them we can send down to mingle with the enemy as a spy. Whatever we do must be done cautiously, for the sake of the girls.”

“That is good advice,” said a voice behind them, which was that of the hermit, who had crept towards them on his hands and knees.

“Why, Christian, whence comest thou?” said Ulf.

“From my own hut,” replied the hermit, raising himself, “where I have just left Hilda and Ada safe and well. We had deemed ourselves prisoners there till night should set us free; but necessity sharpens the wit even of an old man, and I have discovered a path through the woods, which, although difficult, may be traversed without much chance of our being seen, if done carefully. I have just passed along it in safety, and was on the point of returning to the hut when I came upon you here.”

“Lead us to them at once,” cried Glumm, starting up.

“Nay,” said the hermit, laying his hand on the youth’s arm, “restrain thine ardour. It would be easier to bring the girls hither, than to lead a band of armed men by that path without their being discovered. If ye will take the advice of one who was a warrior in his youth, there is some hope that, God permitting, we may all escape. Ye know the Crow Cliff? Well, the small boat is lying there. It is well known that men dare not swim down the rapid, unless they are acquainted with the run of the water and the formation of the rock. Thy men know it well, the King’s men know it not. With a boat the maidens may descend in safety. The men can leap into the river and escape before the enemy could come at them by the hill road.”

“Excellently planned,” exclaimed Erling in an eager tone; “but, hermit, how dost thou propose to fetch the maidens hither?”

“By going and conducting them. There is much risk, no doubt, but their case is desperate, for their retreat is certain to be discovered.”

“Away then,” said Ulf, “minutes are precious. We will await thee here, and, at the worst, if they should be captured, we can but die in attempting their rescue.”

Without uttering another word the hermit rose, re-entered the underwood, sank down on his hands and knees, and disappeared with a cat-like quietness that had been worthy of one of the red warriors of America.

Chapter Twenty Five.In which is Described a Desperate Attempt at Rescue, a Bold Leap for Freedom, and a Triumphant Escape.The Crow Cliff, to which Christian had referred, was a high precipitous rock that jutted out into the river just below Haldorstede. It was the termination of the high ridge on the face of which Erling had posted his men, and could be easily reached from the spot where they lay concealed, as well as from the stede itself, but there was no possibility of passing down the river in that direction by land, owing to the precipitous nature of the ground. The ordinary path down the valley, which elsewhere followed the curvatures of the river, made at this point a wide détour into the woods, went in a zigzag form up the steep ascent of the ridge, descended similarly on the other side, and did not rejoin the river for nearly half a mile below. The waters were so pent up by the Crow Cliff that they rushed along its base in a furious rapid, which, a hundred yards down, descended in a perpendicular fall of about fifteen feet in depth. The descent of this rapid by a boat was quite possible, for there was a little bay at the lower end of Crow Cliff, just above the foss, into which it could be steered by a dexterous rower; but this mode of descent was attended with the imminent risk of being swept over the fall and dashed to pieces, so that none except the daring young spirits of the glen ever attempted it, while all the rest were content to cross the ridge by the longer and more laborious, but safe, path which we have just described. To descend this rapid by swimming was one of the feats which the youths of the place delighted to venture, and often had Erling and Glumm dared it together, while not a few of their companions had lost their lives in the attempt.A few words from Erling gave the men to understand what was expected of them. It was arranged that while he, Ulf, Glumm, and the hermit should put the girls into the little boat and guide them down the rapid, the men were to leap into the water and swim down. All were to land in the little bay, and then make for the cave on the coast in a body, and fight their way thither, if need be; but it was believed there would be no occasion for that, because before the plan was carried out most of the King’s men would probably be assembled above the Crow Cliff at the stede. A few who could not swim were sent off at once by the track to warn Haldor. All these well-laid plans, however, were suddenly frustrated, for, while Erling was still consulting with Ulf and Glumm as to details, and peeping through the underwood, they beheld a sight which caused their hearts almost to stand still.From the elevated spot where they lay they could see the hermit advancing rapidly towards them in a crouching attitude, closely followed by the maidens, while at the same time there advanced from the stede a large band of men under a chief, who was evidently commissioned to execute some order of the King. Erling and his friends could clearly see these two parties unwittingly approaching each other, at right angles, each making for a point where the two paths crossed, and where they were certain to meet. They could see their friends quietly but swiftly gliding towards the very fate they sought to avoid, and experienced all the agony of being unable to give a shout of warning, or to prevent the foe from capturing them; for, even if there had been time to rush upon them before the meeting, which there was not, Erling by so doing would have been obliged to place the whole of Harald’s host between him and the boat at Crow Cliff. This consideration, however, would not have deterred him, but another idea had flashed upon his mind. What that was shall be seen presently.Before the two parties met, the ears of the hermit, albeit somewhat dulled by age, became aware of the tramp of armed men, and at once he drew the girls hastily aside into the bushes; but the bushes at that part happened to be not very thick, and part of Ada’s dress, which was a gay one with a good deal of scarlet about it, caught the attention of a sharp-eyed warrior. The man uttered a shout and sprang towards them; several others joined in the pursuit, a loud scream from one of the girls was heard, and next moment the fugitives were captured!“Up and at them!” cried Glumm, endeavouring to rise, but he found himself pinned to the earth by Erling’s powerful arms.“Stay, Glumm, be quiet, I beseech thee,” entreated Erling, as his comrade struggled violently but fruitlessly to escape from his powerful embrace.—“Do listen, Ulf; ye will spoil all by inconsiderate haste. I have a plan: listen—these men are not devils, but Norsemen, and will not hurt the girls; they will take them before the King. Hear me, and they shall yet be rescued!”While the power of Erling’s muscles restrained Glumm, the deep-toned impassioned earnestness of his voice held back Ulf, who had leaped up and drawn his sword; but it was with evident reluctance that he paused and listened.“Now hear me,” cried Erling; “I and Glumm will go down and mingle with Harald’s men. Our faces are doubtless not known to any of them; besides, we are so bespattered with the blood and dust of battle that even friends might fail to recognise us. We will go boldly about among the men, and keep near to the girls until a fitting opportunity offers, when we will seize them and bear them off. This will not be so difficult as ye may think.”“Difficult!” cried Glumm, grinding his teeth; “I think nothing difficult except sitting still!”“Because,” continued Erling, “the King’s men will be taken by surprise, and we shall be through the most of them before they are aware that there is need to draw their blades. But (and on this everything will depend) thou must be ready, Ulf, with all the men, to rush, in the twinkling of an eye, to our aid, the moment my shout is heard, for, if this be not done, we cannot fail to be overpowered by numbers. If thou dost but keep them well in play while we make for the boat, and then follow and leap into the river, we shall all escape.”“Come along, then,” cried Glumm, in desperate impatience.“Does the plan like thee, Ulf?” asked Erling.“Not much,” he replied, shaking his head, “but it is the only chance left, so get thee gone. I will not fail thee in the moment of need—away! See, the girls are already being led before the King.”Erling and Glumm instantly pulled their helmets well down on their brows, wrapped their mantles round them so as to conceal their figures as much as possible, then entered the wood and disappeared.Meanwhile, on the open space in front of Haldor’s ruined dwelling, King Harald Haarfager stood surrounded by his court men. He was still bespattered with the blood and dust of battle, and furiously angry at the escape of Haldor and the burning of the stede. His gilt helmet restrained the exuberance of his shaggy locks, and he stood on the top of a slight elevation or mound, from the base of which his men extended in a dense ring in front of him, eager to ascertain who it was that had been so unexpectedly captured. Erling and Glumm mingled with the crowd unnoticed, for so many of the men assembled there had been collected from various districts, that, to each, strange faces were the rule instead of the exception.When the girls were led into the ring there was a murmur of admiration, and many complimentary remarks were made about them. The old hermit was dragged in after them, and excited a little attention for a few moments. He had experienced rough handling from his captors. His grey hair was dishevelled and his face bloodstained, for, although he had offered no resistance, some of the men who seized him were so much out of humour in consequence of the burning of the stede and the escape of its inmates, that they were glad to vent their anger on anyone.“Good-looking girls, both of them,” remarked the King to Jarl Rongvold, as they were being led forward.—“Who are ye?” he added, addressing them.Ada looked round on the circle of men with a frightened glance, and cast down her eyes, but did not reply, while Hilda raised her eyes timidly to the King’s face, but lacked courage to speak.“Come,” said the King sternly, “let us have no false modesty. Ye are before Norway’s King, therefore speak, and to the point. Who art thou?”He addressed himself to Hilda, who replied—“I am Hilda, daughter of Ulf of Romsdal.”“And thou?” he added, turning to her companion.“My name is Ada. My father is Hakon of Drontheim.”“Ha!” exclaimed the King, with a bitter smile. “Is it so? Thy father has met his desert, then, for he now lies at the bottom of the fiord.”Ada turned deadly pale, but made no reply.“Know ye where Haldor the Fierce is, and his insolent son Erling?” asked the King.Hilda flushed at this, and answered with some spirit that she did not know, and that if she did she would not tell.“Of course not,” said the King; “I might have guessed as much, and do but waste my time with ye.—Stand aside—bring forward yonder fellow.”The hermit was immediately led forward.“Who art thou?” asked the King.“An old wanderer on the face of the earth,” replied Christian.“That is easily seen,” answered the King; “but not too old, it would seem, to do a little mischief when the chance falls in thy way.”“Methinks, sire,” whispered Jarl Rongvold, “that this fellow is one of those strange madmen who have taken up with that new religion, which I do not profess to understand.”“Sayest thou so?” exclaimed Harald, “then will I test him.—Ho! fetch me a piece of horse flesh.”A piece of horse flesh was brought without delay, for some that had been sacrificed in the Drontheim temple had been packed up and carried off among other provisions when the expedition set forth.“Here, old man, eat thou a portion of that,” said Harald, holding the flesh towards him.“I may not eat what has been sacrificed to idols,” said the hermit.“Ho! ho! then thou art not a worshipper of Odin? Say, dog, what art thou?”“I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is my Saviour. To Him I live, and for Him I can die.”“Can He save you fromme?” demanded Harald.“He can,” answered the hermit earnestly, “and will save you too, King Harald, from your sins, and all who now hear me, if they will but turn to Him.”“Now will I test him,” said the King. “Stand forth, Hake of Hadeland, and hew me the old man’s head from his body.”“Spare him! O spare him!” cried Hilda, throwing herself suddenly between Hake and his victim, who stood with the resigned air of a man who had made up his mind to die. “He has twice savedmylife, and has never done you evil in thought or deed.”“Stand aside, my pretty maid. Nay, then, if thou wilt not, I must grant thy request; but it is upon one condition: that this Saviour shall either come himself or send a champion to deliver the old man.—Come,” he added, turning fiercely to the hermit, “pray that thy God shall send thee a champion now, for if He does not, as I live thou shalt die.”“I may not pray at thy bidding,” said the hermit calmly; “besides, it needs not that I should, because I have already prayed—before dawn this morning—that He would grant me His blessing in the form that seemed best to Himself.”“And hast thou got it?”“I have—in that I possess a quiet spirit, and do not fear to die, now that His time has come.”“’Tis something this, I admit,” returned the King; “yet methinks ’tis but a poor blessing, after all, with death as the end of it.”“Death is not the end of it,” said the hermit, with a kindling eye, “for after death is everlasting joy and glory with the Lord. Besides, King Harald, which were better, think you: to die with a willing spirit and bright hope, or to live full of restless ambition, disappointment, and rage, even although victorious and King of Norway?”The King’s countenance grew livid with anger as he turned to the berserk and said, in a voice of suppressed passion—“Go forward, Hake, and slay him!”“Now—the time has come,” whispered Erling to Glumm.“Get as near to Ada as thou canst; for the rest, may Christian’s God be with us!”As he spoke he sprang into the circle, sword in hand, and stood suddenly between the astonished Hake and the hermit.There was a loud murmur of amazement at this unexpected apparition, and not a few of the spectators were awestricken, supposing that this was actually a champion sent from the spirit world.“Harald,” cried Erling, for the berserk had shrunk back dismayed, “I do now accept the challenge, and come here to champion the old man.”At the sound of his voice the King’s face lighted up with intelligence.“Ha!” he exclaimed suddenly; “has the old man’s God sent Erling the Bold?”“Truly I think he has,” replied Erling; “at all events it was not for this purpose that I came hither to-day. But now that I have come, and of mine own free will put myself in thy power, I claim the right to do battle for my old friend with thy stoutest man—so set him forth, King Harald.”“What sayest thou, Hake?” said the King, turning to his berserk with a smile; “art willing to join issue with the Bold one?—bold enough, truly, and insolent as well.”Hake, who had recovered his self-possession the instant he recognised Erling’s voice, and who was by no means wanting in courage, suddenly uttered one of his terrible roars, and rushed upon Erling like a thunderbolt.Our hero was too well accustomed to the ways of his class to be caught off his guard. Although Hake rained blows upon him so fast that it was almost impossible for the spectators to follow the motions of his flashing sword, Erling received them all on his shield, or parried them with his short sword—which, as being more manageable in amêlée, he had selected for his present enterprise. The instant, however, that the berserk’s furious onset began to slacken, Erling fetched him such a tremendous cut on the sword that the weapon was broken close off at the hilt. Disdaining to slay an unarmed foe, he leaped upon the berserk, and struck him a blow with the hilt of his sword, which drove the casque down upon his head and stretched him flat upon the sward.Without waiting an instant Erling flung down his shield and walked to the place where Hilda stood, took her by the hand, and whispered, “Courage! come with me and thou shalt be saved.” At the same moment Glumm stepped to Ada’s side, and took her right hand in his left. No sword was drawn, for Glumm had not drawn his, and no one present had the faintest idea of what the young men intended to attempt. Indeed, they were all so amazed at the sudden termination of the fight, that the men of the inner part of the ring actually stood aside to let them pass, before the King had time to shout:—“Seize them!”In other circumstances, at Harald’s word a thousand swords would have been drawn, and the doom of Erling and his friends at once been sealed; but the natural ferocity of the tyrant’s followers had been spellbound, and for the time paralysed by the calm bearing of old Christian and the prowess of his champion, whose opportune appearance had all the effect of a supernatural interposition, as it might well be deemed: and it will be readily believed that our hero and Glumm did not fail to use the advantage thus offered. Leading those whom they had come to rescue, and closely followed by the hermit, they passed completely through the circle of men. But at the repetition, in a voice of thunder, of the royal mandate, some hundreds of the King’s men surrounded them, and, notwithstanding their wondrous strength and skill, they were being gradually overpowered by numbers, when suddenly a tremendous shout was heard, and next moment Ulf with his fifty men in battle array rushed out of the forest.King Harald endeavoured hastily to draw up his men in something like order. Hearing the cry in rear, the men in front of Erling and Glumm fell aside, so that they quickly cut down those who still stood in their way, and ran towards their friends, who opened their ranks to let them pass—then reclosed, and fell upon the King’s men with incredible fury. Although outnumbered by at least twenty to one, the disparity did not at first tell against them, owing to the confusion in the enemy’s ranks, and the confined space of ground on which they fought. They were thus enabled to act with great vigour, and, being animated by the spirit of desperate men, they actually for some time kept driving back the King’s forces.But the continual assault of fresh foes began to tell, and several of Ulf’s men had already fallen, when Erling’s voice was heard ringing high above the din of battle. Instantly every man turned on his heel and fled towards the river madly pursued by the whole of the King’s host.By this time Erling and Glumm had got the girls into the boat, and steered them safely down the rapid into the little bay, where they waited for their companions as patiently as they could.Meanwhile Ulf’s men reached the foot of the Crow Cliff and one by one sprang into the boiling rapid. Ulf was among the first there, but he stayed to see them all pass. Before the last could do so their enemies were upon them, but Ulf kept them at bay for a few moments; and when the last of his men took the water he retreated fighting, and leaped backwards into the flood. One or two of the King’s men followed, but they failed to catch him, were carried down stream, and, being ignorant of the dangers of the place, were swept over the foss and killed. Most of the host, however, turned suddenly, and set off at full speed to cross the ridge and pursue their enemies, by the path to which we have already referred. Before they had crossed it, Erling and his men were far on their way down the valley; and when the pursuers reached the coast there was no sign of the fugitives anywhere.On reaching the cave Erling found that his father had got everything in readiness to start; so, assembling the people together without delay, he divided them into two bands, one of which he sent into the Swan, the other into Glumm’s vessel, the Crane.Haldor also went in the Swan, along with Ulf of Romsdal, Thorer the Thick, Kettle Flatnose, Alric, and the hermit, besides Dames Herfrida and Astrid, and the widow Gunhild, Ingeborg, and all Haldor’s younger children. With Glumm there were also several women besides Ada. Ivor the Old and Finn the One-eyed also went with him; but most of the old and crippled hangers-on of both families, as well as Glumm’s mother, were taken by Erling into the Swan, as the accommodation there was better than on board the Crane.“Now, Glumm,” said Erling, when all were on board, “we must say farewell to Norway. Keep close in my wake. If they give chase we will do our best to escape, but if that may not be, we will fight and fall together.” The friends shook hands; then, each getting into his ship, the stern ropes were cast off, the oars were dipped, and they shot out upon the blue fiord, which the sinking sun had left in a solemn subdued light, although his beams still glowed brightly on the snow-clad mountain peaks.They had proceeded some distance down the fiord before their pursuers observed them. Then a mighty shout told that they were discovered; and the grinding of the heavy ships’ keels was distinctly heard upon the shore, as they were pushed off into deep water. Immediately after, the splash of hundreds of oars warned them to make haste.“Pull, my lads,—pull with heart,” cried Erling; “and let these slaves see how freemen can make their ocean steeds leap across the sea! Pull! I see a breeze just off the mouth of the fiord. If we reach that, we may laugh at the tyrant King.”“What may yonder line on the water be?” said Haldor, with an anxious look, as he pointed towards the mouth of the fiord.Erling caught his breath, and the blood rushed to his temples as he gazed for a moment in silence.“’Tis a boom,” cried Kettle, who had recovered by this time, and who now leaped towards the fore deck with terrible energy.“All is lost!” exclaimed Ulf, in a tone of bitterness which words cannot express.“Are ye sure it is a boom?” cried Erling quickly. Everyone looked with intense earnestness at the black line that stretched completely across the mouth of the fiord, and each gave it as his opinion that it was a boom. There could not indeed be any doubt on the point. King Harald’s berserk, although somewhat tardy, had fulfilled his orders but too well; and now a succession of huge logs, or tree trunks, joined together by thick iron chains, completely barred their progress seaward.“Surely we can burst through,” suggested Kettle, returning to the poop, his huge frame quivering with contending emotions.“Impossible,” said Haldor; “I have tried it before, and failed. Of course we must make the attempt, but I have no hope except in this,” he added, touching his sword, “and not much in that either,now.”“But I have tried it before, and did not fail, and I’ll try it again,” cried Erling heartily. “Come aft, men, quick, all of ye; every man except the rowers. Women, children, and cripples, get ye into the waist. The stoutest men to the oars—jump!”These orders were obeyed at once. All the best men in the ship seized the oars, Erling himself, Kettle, and Haldor setting the example, while Thorer took the helm, and, hailing Glumm, bade him do as they did.The effect of this was that the stern of the Swan was so weighed down with the weight of people on the poop, that her bows and a third of her keel were raised high out of the water, while the men, straining with every fibre of their muscles at the oars, sent her careering forward with trebled speed, and the foam rolled in milky billows in her wake.“When I give the word ‘Forward,’” cried Erling, “leap like lightning, all of ye, to the fore deck.”The pursuers, elated by this time with the certainty of success, pulled also with unwonted energy.When the Swan came within about twenty yards of the boom, which floated almost on a level with the water, Thorer gave the word—“One stroke for freedom!”“Ho! ho!” shouted Erling and Haldor, straining until their oars cracked again. The foam hissed from the blades, and the Swan rushed as if she had been suddenly endued with true vitality.Next moment she stuck fast—with the boom amidships beneath her!“Forward!” shouted Erling.All the unengaged men sprang instantly to the forecastle, and their weight sank it slowly down, but it seemed inclined for a moment to remain balanced on the boom. Hereupon the men at the oars jumped up and also ran forward. The bow dipped at once, the good ship slid over with a plunge, and glided out upon the sea!A great shout or yell told that this had been noticed by their foes, who still rowed madly after them; but heedless of this, Erling backed water and waited for Glumm, who had made similar preparations, and was now close on the boom. His vessel went fairly on, and stuck halfway, as the other had done; but when she was balanced and about to turn over, there was a terrible rending sound in the hull, then a crash, and the Crane broke in two, throwing half of her crew into the sea on the inner side of the boom, and the other half outside.Well was it for them all then that the Swan had waited! She was at once backed towards the scene of disaster, and as many as possible were picked up. Among the rescued was Glumm, with Ada in his arms. But many were drowned, and a few stuck to the boom, refusing to let go, or to make any attempt to reach the Swan.Erling knew, however, that these were sure to be picked up by the King’s ships, so he once more ordered the rowers to give way, and the vessel sprang forth on her voyage some time before the pursuers reached the boom. When these did so, most of them attempted to leap it as the fugitives had done—for none of the Norsemen there lacked spirit. Some, however, failed to get on to it at all, others got on a short way and stuck fast, while two or three ships broke their backs, as Glumm’s had done, and threw their crews into the water—but not one got over.The men then leaped on the boom, and the sound of axes was heard as they laboured to cut it through, or to dash away its iron fastenings. It was, however, a thoroughly well-executed piece of work, and for a long time resisted their utmost efforts. When at length it did give way, and the King’s ships passed through, the Swan was beyond pursuit—far away on the horizon, with all sail set, and running before a stiff breeze, while the shades of evening were closing in around her!That night there was silence in the Norsemen’s little ship as she ploughed her adventurous course over the northern sea, for the thoughts of all were very sad at being thus rudely driven from their native land to seek a home where best they might in the wide world. Yet in the hearts of some of them there was also much happiness.Hilda’s sanguine mind pictured many sweet and peaceful abodes, far from the haunts of warlike men. Alric was happy, because he was beginning, as he fondly hoped, a life of wild adventure. So was Kettle Flatnose, for he was now sailing westward, and he knew that Ireland was somewhere in that direction. But Glumm the Gruff was perhaps the happiest of all on board, for, besides the delight of having at last got possession of his bride, he enjoyed, for the first time in his life, the pleasure of comforting a woman in distress!Ada’s wild spirit was—we dare not say eradicated, but—thoroughly subdued at last. When she thought of her father she laid her head on Glumm’s broad chest and wept bitterly.Thus did those Sea-kings sail away from and forsake the land of Norway. On their voyage westward they fell in with many ships from other quarters containing countrymen, Sea-kings and vikings like themselves, who had also left their native land to seek new homes in Shetland, Orkney, and the other isles north of Scotland, rather than submit to the yoke of Harald Haarfager.They joined company with these, and all sailed westward together.Among them was a man named Frode, who was celebrated for daring and wisdom, especially for his knowledge of the stars, and his power of navigating the unknown ocean of the west. To this man was assigned the direction of the fleet, and all submitted to his guidance; but the Sea-kings invariably assembled together in council when it was intended to decide, what they should do or to what part of the world they should steer.“My advice is,” said Kettle Flatnose, the first time they assembled thus in council, “that we steer first to Ireland, where I can promise ye all a hearty welcome, for it is well known that the Irish are a hospitable people, and my father is a great man there.”“I fall in with that,” said Glumm, glancing at Ada, whose eyes had now become his guiding stars!“The advice is good,” said Erling, “for, wherever we may finally come to an anchor, we will be none the worse of getting some provisions on the way.”As Haldor, Ulf, Frode, and all the rest were of one mind on this point, the ships were steered to Ireland; and when they reached that country they put ashore in a small bay not far from Dublin, where was a log hut. To this Kettle went up with Erling and Glumm, and asked the man of the house how things were going on in Ireland.“As ill as can be in this district,” said the man; “there is nothing but vengeance in the hearts of the people.”“That is a bad state,” said Kettle, with a look of anxiety; “what may be the cause of discontent? Is the old King hard on ye?”“Thou must have been long away to ask that. The old King is dead,” said the man.At this Kettle uttered a great and bitter cry; but, restraining himself, asked eagerly if the old Queen were alive. The man replied that she was. Then Kettle asked how the King met his death.With a dark frown the man replied that Haabrok the Black had murdered him and seized the throne. On hearing this Kettle became pale, but was very calm, and listened attentively while the man went on to say that Haabrok was such a tyrant that the whole district was ready to start up as one man and dethrone him, if they had only someone who was fit to lead them.“That they shall not long want for,” said Kettle.After some more earnest conversation he turned away, and went down to the shore.“Now, Erling and Glumm,” said he, “we must do a little fighting before I can offer ye the hospitality I spoke of. Will ye aid me in a venture I have in my mind?”“That will we,” they replied heartily.Kettle thereupon explained his views, and said that he had learned from the man that his wife was still alive and well, but in the hands of the king of the district, who was a regicide and a tyrant. It was then arranged that the Swan should be rowed quietly up towards the town, and the men landed in the night at a spot where they could be ready to answer the summons of Kettle, Erling, Glumm, and Ulf, who were to go up unattended to the King’s house in Dublin, with no other arms than their short swords.On drawing near, these four found the hall of the King’s house brilliantly lighted, for great festivities were going on there. No one interfered with them, because none guessed that so small a party would dare to go up half-armed for any other than peaceful purposes. They therefore went through the streets unmolested, and easily passed the guards, because Kettle plied them with a good deal of that which has since come to be known by the name of “blarney.”When they got into the hall, Kettle went straight up to the high seat or throne on which Haabrok the Black was seated.“Ye are presumptuous knaves,” said the tyrant, eyeing the strangers sternly; “is it thus that ye have been taught to approach the King? What is your errand?”“For the matter of that, thou well-named villain,” said Kettle, “our errand will but add to our presumption, for we have come to slay thee.”With that Kettle whipped out his sword and cut off Haabrok’s head, so that it went rolling over the floor, while the body fell back and spouted blood all over the horrified court men!Instantly every man drew his sword; but Erling, Ulf, and Glumm leaped on the low platform of the throne, and presented such a bold front, that the bravest men there hesitated to attack them. At the same moment Kettle raised his sword and shouted, “If there be yet a true man in this hall who loves his country and reveres the memory of the good old King whom this dead dog slew, let him come hither. It is the voice of the King’s son that calls!”“Sure, ’tis Kettle; I’d know his red head anywhere!” exclaimed a shrivelled old woman near the throne.“Aye, nurse, it is Kettle himself—come back again,” he said, glancing towards the old woman with a kindly smile.A ringing cheer burst from the crowd and filled the hall; again and again it rose, as nearly all the men present rushed round the throne and waved their swords frantically over their heads, or strove to shake hands with the son of their old King. In the midst of the tumult a wild shriek was heard; and the crowd, opening up, allowed a beautiful dark-eyed woman to rush towards Kettle, with a stalwart boy of about five years of age clinging to her skirts.We need scarcely pause to say who these were, nor who the handsome matron was who afterwards went and clung round Kettle’s neck, and heaped fervent blessings on the head of her long-lost son. It is sufficient to say that the feast of that night was not interrupted; that, on the contrary, it was prolonged into the morning, and extended into every loyal home in the city; and that Kettle Flatnose entertained his Norse friends right royally for several days, after which he sent them away laden with gifts and benedictions. They did not quit Ireland, however, until they had seen him happily and securely seated on the throne of Dublin.Sailing northward, the fleet touched at the Orkney and Shetland Islands, where they found that a number of the expatriated Sea-kings had comfortably settled themselves. Here some of Haldor’s people would fain have remained, but Frode, who was a man of enterprise, resolved to penetrate farther into the great unknown sea, to lands which rumour said did certainly exist there. Accordingly they left Shetland, and went on until they came to the Faroe Islands. Here they thought of settling, but on landing they found that a few of the Sea-kings had taken up their abode there before them.“Now,” said Frode, “it is my great desire to break new ground. Shall we go and search farther to the west for that new island which has been lately discovered by Ingoll?”To this Haldor and Ulf said they were agreed. Hilda plucked Erling by the sleeve, and whispered in his ear, after which he said that he too was agreed. Glumm glanced at Ada, who, with a little blush and smile, nodded. A nod was as good as a word to Glumm, so he also said he was agreed, and as no one else made objection, the ships’ prows were again turned towards the setting sun.North-westward they sailed over the world of waters, until they came one fine morning in sight of land. As they drew near they saw that it was very beautiful, consisting partly of snow-capped mountains, with green fertile valleys here and there, and streams flowing through them. They ran the vessels into a bay and landed, and the country looked so peaceful, and withal so desirable, that it was at once resolved they should make this place their abode. Accordingly, while most of the men set themselves to work to land the goods, put up the tents, and make the women and children comfortable, a select band, well armed, prepared to go on an expedition into the country, to ascertain whether or not it was inhabited. Before these set out, however, Christian the hermit stood up on a rising ground, and, raising his eyes and hands to heaven, prayed for God’s blessing on their enterprise.Thereafter plots of land were marked out, houses were built, “Things” were held, a regular government was established, and the island—for such it proved to be—was regularly taken possession of.The exploring party found that this was indeed the island which they were in search of. It had been discovered about the middle of the ninth century, and a settlement had been made on it by Ingoll in the year 874; but the band of immigrants under Frode and Haldor was by far the most important that had landed on it up to that time.In this manner, and under these circumstances, was Iceland colonised by expatriated Norsemen about the beginning of the tenth century!Good reader, our tale is told. Gladly would we follow, step by step, the subsequent career of Erling and Glumm, for the lives of such men, from first to last, are always fraught with interest and instruction; but this may not be. We have brought them, with the other chief actors in this little tale, to a happy point in their adventurous career, and there we feel that we ought to leave them in peace. Yet we would fain touch on one or two prominent points in their subsequent history before bidding them a final farewell.Let it be recorded, then, that many years after the date of the closing scene of our tale, there might have been seen in Iceland, at the head of a small bay, two pretty cottages, from the doors of which there was a magnificent view of as sweet a valley as ever filled the eye or gladdened the heart of man, with a distant glimpse of the great ocean beyond. On the sward before these cottages was assembled a large party of young men and maidens, the latter of whom were conspicuous for the sparkle of their blue eyes and the silky gloss of their fair hair, while the former were notable because of the great size and handsome proportions of their figures; some, however, of the men and maidens were dark and ruddy. The youths were engaged in putting the stone and throwing the hammer; the maidens looked on with interest—as maidens were wont to do on manly pastimes in days of old, and as they are not unwilling to do occasionally, even in modern times. Around these romped a host of children of all ages, sizes, and shades.These were the descendants of Erling the Bold and Glumm the Gruff. The two families had, as it were, fused into one grand compound, which was quite natural, for their natures were diverse yet sympathetic; besides, Glumm was dark, Erling fair; and it is well known that black and white always go hand in hand, producing that sweet-toned grey, which Nature would seem to cherish with a love quite as powerful as the abhorrence with which she is supposed to regard a vacuum.Beside each other, leaning against a tree, and admiring the prowess of the young men, stood Erling and Glumm, old, it is true, and past the time when men delight to exercise their muscles, but straight and stalwart, and still noble specimens of manhood. The most interesting group, however, was to be seen seated on a rustic bench near the door. There, sometimes conversing gravely with a silver-haired old man at his side, or stooping with a quiet smile to caress the head of a child that had rushed from its playmates for a little to be fondled by the “old one”—sat Haldor the Fierce, with Christian the hermit on one side, and Ulf of Romsdal on the other. Their heads were pure white, and their frames somewhat bent, but health still mantled on the sunburnt cheeks, and sparkled in the eyes of the old Norse Sea-kings.Within the house might have been seen two exceedingly handsome matrons—such as one may see in Norway at the present time—who called each other Hilda and Ada, and who vied with a younger Hilda and Ada in their attentions upon two frail but cheery old women whom they called “Granny Heff” and “Granny Ast”. How very unlike—and yet how like—were these to the Herfrida and Astrid of former days!Between the old dames there sat on a low stool a man of gigantic proportions, who had scarcely reached middle age, and who was still overflowing with the fun and fire of youth. He employed himself in alternately fondling and “chaffing” the two old women, and he was such an exact counterpart of what Erling the Bold was at the age of thirty, that his own mother was constantly getting confused, and had to be reminded that he wasAlric, and not Erling!Alric’s wife, a daughter of Glumm, was with the young people on the lawn, and his six riotous children were among the chief tormentors of old Haldor.Ingeborg was there too, sharp as ever, but not quite so sour. She was not a spinster. There were few spinsters in those days! She had married a man of the neighbouring valley, whom she loved to distraction, and whom she led the life of a dog! But it was her nature to be cross-grained. She could not help it, and the poor man appeared to grow fonder of her the more she worried him!As for Ivor the Old and Finn the One-eyed, they, with most of their contemporaries, had long been gathered to their fathers, and their bones reposed on the grassy slopes of Laxriverdale.As for the other personages of our tale, we have only space to remark that King Harald Haarfager succeeded in his wish to obtain the undivided sovereignty of Norway, but he failed to perpetuate the change; for the kingdom was, after his death, redivided amongst his sons. The last heard of Hake the berserk was, that he had been seen in the midst of a great battle to have both his legs cut off at one sweep, and that he died fighting on his stumps! Jarl Rongvold was burnt by King Harald’s sons, but his stout son, Rolf Ganger, left his native land, and conquered Normandy, whence his celebrated descendant, William the Conqueror, came across the Channel and conquered England.Yes, there is perhaps more of Norse blood in your veins than you wot of, reader, whether you be English or Scotch; for those sturdy sea rovers invaded our lands from north, south, east, and west many a time in days gone by, and held it in possession for centuries at a time, leaving a lasting and beneficial impress on our customs and characters. We have good reason to regard their memory with respect and gratitude, despite their faults and sins, for much of what is good and true in our laws and social customs, much manly and vigorous in the British Constitution, of our intense love of freedom and fairplay, are pith, pluck, enterprise, and sense of justice that dwelt in the breasts of the rugged old Sea-kings of Norway!

The Crow Cliff, to which Christian had referred, was a high precipitous rock that jutted out into the river just below Haldorstede. It was the termination of the high ridge on the face of which Erling had posted his men, and could be easily reached from the spot where they lay concealed, as well as from the stede itself, but there was no possibility of passing down the river in that direction by land, owing to the precipitous nature of the ground. The ordinary path down the valley, which elsewhere followed the curvatures of the river, made at this point a wide détour into the woods, went in a zigzag form up the steep ascent of the ridge, descended similarly on the other side, and did not rejoin the river for nearly half a mile below. The waters were so pent up by the Crow Cliff that they rushed along its base in a furious rapid, which, a hundred yards down, descended in a perpendicular fall of about fifteen feet in depth. The descent of this rapid by a boat was quite possible, for there was a little bay at the lower end of Crow Cliff, just above the foss, into which it could be steered by a dexterous rower; but this mode of descent was attended with the imminent risk of being swept over the fall and dashed to pieces, so that none except the daring young spirits of the glen ever attempted it, while all the rest were content to cross the ridge by the longer and more laborious, but safe, path which we have just described. To descend this rapid by swimming was one of the feats which the youths of the place delighted to venture, and often had Erling and Glumm dared it together, while not a few of their companions had lost their lives in the attempt.

A few words from Erling gave the men to understand what was expected of them. It was arranged that while he, Ulf, Glumm, and the hermit should put the girls into the little boat and guide them down the rapid, the men were to leap into the water and swim down. All were to land in the little bay, and then make for the cave on the coast in a body, and fight their way thither, if need be; but it was believed there would be no occasion for that, because before the plan was carried out most of the King’s men would probably be assembled above the Crow Cliff at the stede. A few who could not swim were sent off at once by the track to warn Haldor. All these well-laid plans, however, were suddenly frustrated, for, while Erling was still consulting with Ulf and Glumm as to details, and peeping through the underwood, they beheld a sight which caused their hearts almost to stand still.

From the elevated spot where they lay they could see the hermit advancing rapidly towards them in a crouching attitude, closely followed by the maidens, while at the same time there advanced from the stede a large band of men under a chief, who was evidently commissioned to execute some order of the King. Erling and his friends could clearly see these two parties unwittingly approaching each other, at right angles, each making for a point where the two paths crossed, and where they were certain to meet. They could see their friends quietly but swiftly gliding towards the very fate they sought to avoid, and experienced all the agony of being unable to give a shout of warning, or to prevent the foe from capturing them; for, even if there had been time to rush upon them before the meeting, which there was not, Erling by so doing would have been obliged to place the whole of Harald’s host between him and the boat at Crow Cliff. This consideration, however, would not have deterred him, but another idea had flashed upon his mind. What that was shall be seen presently.

Before the two parties met, the ears of the hermit, albeit somewhat dulled by age, became aware of the tramp of armed men, and at once he drew the girls hastily aside into the bushes; but the bushes at that part happened to be not very thick, and part of Ada’s dress, which was a gay one with a good deal of scarlet about it, caught the attention of a sharp-eyed warrior. The man uttered a shout and sprang towards them; several others joined in the pursuit, a loud scream from one of the girls was heard, and next moment the fugitives were captured!

“Up and at them!” cried Glumm, endeavouring to rise, but he found himself pinned to the earth by Erling’s powerful arms.

“Stay, Glumm, be quiet, I beseech thee,” entreated Erling, as his comrade struggled violently but fruitlessly to escape from his powerful embrace.—“Do listen, Ulf; ye will spoil all by inconsiderate haste. I have a plan: listen—these men are not devils, but Norsemen, and will not hurt the girls; they will take them before the King. Hear me, and they shall yet be rescued!”

While the power of Erling’s muscles restrained Glumm, the deep-toned impassioned earnestness of his voice held back Ulf, who had leaped up and drawn his sword; but it was with evident reluctance that he paused and listened.

“Now hear me,” cried Erling; “I and Glumm will go down and mingle with Harald’s men. Our faces are doubtless not known to any of them; besides, we are so bespattered with the blood and dust of battle that even friends might fail to recognise us. We will go boldly about among the men, and keep near to the girls until a fitting opportunity offers, when we will seize them and bear them off. This will not be so difficult as ye may think.”

“Difficult!” cried Glumm, grinding his teeth; “I think nothing difficult except sitting still!”

“Because,” continued Erling, “the King’s men will be taken by surprise, and we shall be through the most of them before they are aware that there is need to draw their blades. But (and on this everything will depend) thou must be ready, Ulf, with all the men, to rush, in the twinkling of an eye, to our aid, the moment my shout is heard, for, if this be not done, we cannot fail to be overpowered by numbers. If thou dost but keep them well in play while we make for the boat, and then follow and leap into the river, we shall all escape.”

“Come along, then,” cried Glumm, in desperate impatience.

“Does the plan like thee, Ulf?” asked Erling.

“Not much,” he replied, shaking his head, “but it is the only chance left, so get thee gone. I will not fail thee in the moment of need—away! See, the girls are already being led before the King.”

Erling and Glumm instantly pulled their helmets well down on their brows, wrapped their mantles round them so as to conceal their figures as much as possible, then entered the wood and disappeared.

Meanwhile, on the open space in front of Haldor’s ruined dwelling, King Harald Haarfager stood surrounded by his court men. He was still bespattered with the blood and dust of battle, and furiously angry at the escape of Haldor and the burning of the stede. His gilt helmet restrained the exuberance of his shaggy locks, and he stood on the top of a slight elevation or mound, from the base of which his men extended in a dense ring in front of him, eager to ascertain who it was that had been so unexpectedly captured. Erling and Glumm mingled with the crowd unnoticed, for so many of the men assembled there had been collected from various districts, that, to each, strange faces were the rule instead of the exception.

When the girls were led into the ring there was a murmur of admiration, and many complimentary remarks were made about them. The old hermit was dragged in after them, and excited a little attention for a few moments. He had experienced rough handling from his captors. His grey hair was dishevelled and his face bloodstained, for, although he had offered no resistance, some of the men who seized him were so much out of humour in consequence of the burning of the stede and the escape of its inmates, that they were glad to vent their anger on anyone.

“Good-looking girls, both of them,” remarked the King to Jarl Rongvold, as they were being led forward.—“Who are ye?” he added, addressing them.

Ada looked round on the circle of men with a frightened glance, and cast down her eyes, but did not reply, while Hilda raised her eyes timidly to the King’s face, but lacked courage to speak.

“Come,” said the King sternly, “let us have no false modesty. Ye are before Norway’s King, therefore speak, and to the point. Who art thou?”

He addressed himself to Hilda, who replied—

“I am Hilda, daughter of Ulf of Romsdal.”

“And thou?” he added, turning to her companion.

“My name is Ada. My father is Hakon of Drontheim.”

“Ha!” exclaimed the King, with a bitter smile. “Is it so? Thy father has met his desert, then, for he now lies at the bottom of the fiord.”

Ada turned deadly pale, but made no reply.

“Know ye where Haldor the Fierce is, and his insolent son Erling?” asked the King.

Hilda flushed at this, and answered with some spirit that she did not know, and that if she did she would not tell.

“Of course not,” said the King; “I might have guessed as much, and do but waste my time with ye.—Stand aside—bring forward yonder fellow.”

The hermit was immediately led forward.

“Who art thou?” asked the King.

“An old wanderer on the face of the earth,” replied Christian.

“That is easily seen,” answered the King; “but not too old, it would seem, to do a little mischief when the chance falls in thy way.”

“Methinks, sire,” whispered Jarl Rongvold, “that this fellow is one of those strange madmen who have taken up with that new religion, which I do not profess to understand.”

“Sayest thou so?” exclaimed Harald, “then will I test him.—Ho! fetch me a piece of horse flesh.”

A piece of horse flesh was brought without delay, for some that had been sacrificed in the Drontheim temple had been packed up and carried off among other provisions when the expedition set forth.

“Here, old man, eat thou a portion of that,” said Harald, holding the flesh towards him.

“I may not eat what has been sacrificed to idols,” said the hermit.

“Ho! ho! then thou art not a worshipper of Odin? Say, dog, what art thou?”

“I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is my Saviour. To Him I live, and for Him I can die.”

“Can He save you fromme?” demanded Harald.

“He can,” answered the hermit earnestly, “and will save you too, King Harald, from your sins, and all who now hear me, if they will but turn to Him.”

“Now will I test him,” said the King. “Stand forth, Hake of Hadeland, and hew me the old man’s head from his body.”

“Spare him! O spare him!” cried Hilda, throwing herself suddenly between Hake and his victim, who stood with the resigned air of a man who had made up his mind to die. “He has twice savedmylife, and has never done you evil in thought or deed.”

“Stand aside, my pretty maid. Nay, then, if thou wilt not, I must grant thy request; but it is upon one condition: that this Saviour shall either come himself or send a champion to deliver the old man.—Come,” he added, turning fiercely to the hermit, “pray that thy God shall send thee a champion now, for if He does not, as I live thou shalt die.”

“I may not pray at thy bidding,” said the hermit calmly; “besides, it needs not that I should, because I have already prayed—before dawn this morning—that He would grant me His blessing in the form that seemed best to Himself.”

“And hast thou got it?”

“I have—in that I possess a quiet spirit, and do not fear to die, now that His time has come.”

“’Tis something this, I admit,” returned the King; “yet methinks ’tis but a poor blessing, after all, with death as the end of it.”

“Death is not the end of it,” said the hermit, with a kindling eye, “for after death is everlasting joy and glory with the Lord. Besides, King Harald, which were better, think you: to die with a willing spirit and bright hope, or to live full of restless ambition, disappointment, and rage, even although victorious and King of Norway?”

The King’s countenance grew livid with anger as he turned to the berserk and said, in a voice of suppressed passion—“Go forward, Hake, and slay him!”

“Now—the time has come,” whispered Erling to Glumm.

“Get as near to Ada as thou canst; for the rest, may Christian’s God be with us!”

As he spoke he sprang into the circle, sword in hand, and stood suddenly between the astonished Hake and the hermit.

There was a loud murmur of amazement at this unexpected apparition, and not a few of the spectators were awestricken, supposing that this was actually a champion sent from the spirit world.

“Harald,” cried Erling, for the berserk had shrunk back dismayed, “I do now accept the challenge, and come here to champion the old man.”

At the sound of his voice the King’s face lighted up with intelligence.

“Ha!” he exclaimed suddenly; “has the old man’s God sent Erling the Bold?”

“Truly I think he has,” replied Erling; “at all events it was not for this purpose that I came hither to-day. But now that I have come, and of mine own free will put myself in thy power, I claim the right to do battle for my old friend with thy stoutest man—so set him forth, King Harald.”

“What sayest thou, Hake?” said the King, turning to his berserk with a smile; “art willing to join issue with the Bold one?—bold enough, truly, and insolent as well.”

Hake, who had recovered his self-possession the instant he recognised Erling’s voice, and who was by no means wanting in courage, suddenly uttered one of his terrible roars, and rushed upon Erling like a thunderbolt.

Our hero was too well accustomed to the ways of his class to be caught off his guard. Although Hake rained blows upon him so fast that it was almost impossible for the spectators to follow the motions of his flashing sword, Erling received them all on his shield, or parried them with his short sword—which, as being more manageable in amêlée, he had selected for his present enterprise. The instant, however, that the berserk’s furious onset began to slacken, Erling fetched him such a tremendous cut on the sword that the weapon was broken close off at the hilt. Disdaining to slay an unarmed foe, he leaped upon the berserk, and struck him a blow with the hilt of his sword, which drove the casque down upon his head and stretched him flat upon the sward.

Without waiting an instant Erling flung down his shield and walked to the place where Hilda stood, took her by the hand, and whispered, “Courage! come with me and thou shalt be saved.” At the same moment Glumm stepped to Ada’s side, and took her right hand in his left. No sword was drawn, for Glumm had not drawn his, and no one present had the faintest idea of what the young men intended to attempt. Indeed, they were all so amazed at the sudden termination of the fight, that the men of the inner part of the ring actually stood aside to let them pass, before the King had time to shout:—

“Seize them!”

In other circumstances, at Harald’s word a thousand swords would have been drawn, and the doom of Erling and his friends at once been sealed; but the natural ferocity of the tyrant’s followers had been spellbound, and for the time paralysed by the calm bearing of old Christian and the prowess of his champion, whose opportune appearance had all the effect of a supernatural interposition, as it might well be deemed: and it will be readily believed that our hero and Glumm did not fail to use the advantage thus offered. Leading those whom they had come to rescue, and closely followed by the hermit, they passed completely through the circle of men. But at the repetition, in a voice of thunder, of the royal mandate, some hundreds of the King’s men surrounded them, and, notwithstanding their wondrous strength and skill, they were being gradually overpowered by numbers, when suddenly a tremendous shout was heard, and next moment Ulf with his fifty men in battle array rushed out of the forest.

King Harald endeavoured hastily to draw up his men in something like order. Hearing the cry in rear, the men in front of Erling and Glumm fell aside, so that they quickly cut down those who still stood in their way, and ran towards their friends, who opened their ranks to let them pass—then reclosed, and fell upon the King’s men with incredible fury. Although outnumbered by at least twenty to one, the disparity did not at first tell against them, owing to the confusion in the enemy’s ranks, and the confined space of ground on which they fought. They were thus enabled to act with great vigour, and, being animated by the spirit of desperate men, they actually for some time kept driving back the King’s forces.

But the continual assault of fresh foes began to tell, and several of Ulf’s men had already fallen, when Erling’s voice was heard ringing high above the din of battle. Instantly every man turned on his heel and fled towards the river madly pursued by the whole of the King’s host.

By this time Erling and Glumm had got the girls into the boat, and steered them safely down the rapid into the little bay, where they waited for their companions as patiently as they could.

Meanwhile Ulf’s men reached the foot of the Crow Cliff and one by one sprang into the boiling rapid. Ulf was among the first there, but he stayed to see them all pass. Before the last could do so their enemies were upon them, but Ulf kept them at bay for a few moments; and when the last of his men took the water he retreated fighting, and leaped backwards into the flood. One or two of the King’s men followed, but they failed to catch him, were carried down stream, and, being ignorant of the dangers of the place, were swept over the foss and killed. Most of the host, however, turned suddenly, and set off at full speed to cross the ridge and pursue their enemies, by the path to which we have already referred. Before they had crossed it, Erling and his men were far on their way down the valley; and when the pursuers reached the coast there was no sign of the fugitives anywhere.

On reaching the cave Erling found that his father had got everything in readiness to start; so, assembling the people together without delay, he divided them into two bands, one of which he sent into the Swan, the other into Glumm’s vessel, the Crane.

Haldor also went in the Swan, along with Ulf of Romsdal, Thorer the Thick, Kettle Flatnose, Alric, and the hermit, besides Dames Herfrida and Astrid, and the widow Gunhild, Ingeborg, and all Haldor’s younger children. With Glumm there were also several women besides Ada. Ivor the Old and Finn the One-eyed also went with him; but most of the old and crippled hangers-on of both families, as well as Glumm’s mother, were taken by Erling into the Swan, as the accommodation there was better than on board the Crane.

“Now, Glumm,” said Erling, when all were on board, “we must say farewell to Norway. Keep close in my wake. If they give chase we will do our best to escape, but if that may not be, we will fight and fall together.” The friends shook hands; then, each getting into his ship, the stern ropes were cast off, the oars were dipped, and they shot out upon the blue fiord, which the sinking sun had left in a solemn subdued light, although his beams still glowed brightly on the snow-clad mountain peaks.

They had proceeded some distance down the fiord before their pursuers observed them. Then a mighty shout told that they were discovered; and the grinding of the heavy ships’ keels was distinctly heard upon the shore, as they were pushed off into deep water. Immediately after, the splash of hundreds of oars warned them to make haste.

“Pull, my lads,—pull with heart,” cried Erling; “and let these slaves see how freemen can make their ocean steeds leap across the sea! Pull! I see a breeze just off the mouth of the fiord. If we reach that, we may laugh at the tyrant King.”

“What may yonder line on the water be?” said Haldor, with an anxious look, as he pointed towards the mouth of the fiord.

Erling caught his breath, and the blood rushed to his temples as he gazed for a moment in silence.

“’Tis a boom,” cried Kettle, who had recovered by this time, and who now leaped towards the fore deck with terrible energy.

“All is lost!” exclaimed Ulf, in a tone of bitterness which words cannot express.

“Are ye sure it is a boom?” cried Erling quickly. Everyone looked with intense earnestness at the black line that stretched completely across the mouth of the fiord, and each gave it as his opinion that it was a boom. There could not indeed be any doubt on the point. King Harald’s berserk, although somewhat tardy, had fulfilled his orders but too well; and now a succession of huge logs, or tree trunks, joined together by thick iron chains, completely barred their progress seaward.

“Surely we can burst through,” suggested Kettle, returning to the poop, his huge frame quivering with contending emotions.

“Impossible,” said Haldor; “I have tried it before, and failed. Of course we must make the attempt, but I have no hope except in this,” he added, touching his sword, “and not much in that either,now.”

“But I have tried it before, and did not fail, and I’ll try it again,” cried Erling heartily. “Come aft, men, quick, all of ye; every man except the rowers. Women, children, and cripples, get ye into the waist. The stoutest men to the oars—jump!”

These orders were obeyed at once. All the best men in the ship seized the oars, Erling himself, Kettle, and Haldor setting the example, while Thorer took the helm, and, hailing Glumm, bade him do as they did.

The effect of this was that the stern of the Swan was so weighed down with the weight of people on the poop, that her bows and a third of her keel were raised high out of the water, while the men, straining with every fibre of their muscles at the oars, sent her careering forward with trebled speed, and the foam rolled in milky billows in her wake.

“When I give the word ‘Forward,’” cried Erling, “leap like lightning, all of ye, to the fore deck.”

The pursuers, elated by this time with the certainty of success, pulled also with unwonted energy.

When the Swan came within about twenty yards of the boom, which floated almost on a level with the water, Thorer gave the word—

“One stroke for freedom!”

“Ho! ho!” shouted Erling and Haldor, straining until their oars cracked again. The foam hissed from the blades, and the Swan rushed as if she had been suddenly endued with true vitality.

Next moment she stuck fast—with the boom amidships beneath her!

“Forward!” shouted Erling.

All the unengaged men sprang instantly to the forecastle, and their weight sank it slowly down, but it seemed inclined for a moment to remain balanced on the boom. Hereupon the men at the oars jumped up and also ran forward. The bow dipped at once, the good ship slid over with a plunge, and glided out upon the sea!

A great shout or yell told that this had been noticed by their foes, who still rowed madly after them; but heedless of this, Erling backed water and waited for Glumm, who had made similar preparations, and was now close on the boom. His vessel went fairly on, and stuck halfway, as the other had done; but when she was balanced and about to turn over, there was a terrible rending sound in the hull, then a crash, and the Crane broke in two, throwing half of her crew into the sea on the inner side of the boom, and the other half outside.

Well was it for them all then that the Swan had waited! She was at once backed towards the scene of disaster, and as many as possible were picked up. Among the rescued was Glumm, with Ada in his arms. But many were drowned, and a few stuck to the boom, refusing to let go, or to make any attempt to reach the Swan.

Erling knew, however, that these were sure to be picked up by the King’s ships, so he once more ordered the rowers to give way, and the vessel sprang forth on her voyage some time before the pursuers reached the boom. When these did so, most of them attempted to leap it as the fugitives had done—for none of the Norsemen there lacked spirit. Some, however, failed to get on to it at all, others got on a short way and stuck fast, while two or three ships broke their backs, as Glumm’s had done, and threw their crews into the water—but not one got over.

The men then leaped on the boom, and the sound of axes was heard as they laboured to cut it through, or to dash away its iron fastenings. It was, however, a thoroughly well-executed piece of work, and for a long time resisted their utmost efforts. When at length it did give way, and the King’s ships passed through, the Swan was beyond pursuit—far away on the horizon, with all sail set, and running before a stiff breeze, while the shades of evening were closing in around her!

That night there was silence in the Norsemen’s little ship as she ploughed her adventurous course over the northern sea, for the thoughts of all were very sad at being thus rudely driven from their native land to seek a home where best they might in the wide world. Yet in the hearts of some of them there was also much happiness.

Hilda’s sanguine mind pictured many sweet and peaceful abodes, far from the haunts of warlike men. Alric was happy, because he was beginning, as he fondly hoped, a life of wild adventure. So was Kettle Flatnose, for he was now sailing westward, and he knew that Ireland was somewhere in that direction. But Glumm the Gruff was perhaps the happiest of all on board, for, besides the delight of having at last got possession of his bride, he enjoyed, for the first time in his life, the pleasure of comforting a woman in distress!

Ada’s wild spirit was—we dare not say eradicated, but—thoroughly subdued at last. When she thought of her father she laid her head on Glumm’s broad chest and wept bitterly.

Thus did those Sea-kings sail away from and forsake the land of Norway. On their voyage westward they fell in with many ships from other quarters containing countrymen, Sea-kings and vikings like themselves, who had also left their native land to seek new homes in Shetland, Orkney, and the other isles north of Scotland, rather than submit to the yoke of Harald Haarfager.

They joined company with these, and all sailed westward together.

Among them was a man named Frode, who was celebrated for daring and wisdom, especially for his knowledge of the stars, and his power of navigating the unknown ocean of the west. To this man was assigned the direction of the fleet, and all submitted to his guidance; but the Sea-kings invariably assembled together in council when it was intended to decide, what they should do or to what part of the world they should steer.

“My advice is,” said Kettle Flatnose, the first time they assembled thus in council, “that we steer first to Ireland, where I can promise ye all a hearty welcome, for it is well known that the Irish are a hospitable people, and my father is a great man there.”

“I fall in with that,” said Glumm, glancing at Ada, whose eyes had now become his guiding stars!

“The advice is good,” said Erling, “for, wherever we may finally come to an anchor, we will be none the worse of getting some provisions on the way.”

As Haldor, Ulf, Frode, and all the rest were of one mind on this point, the ships were steered to Ireland; and when they reached that country they put ashore in a small bay not far from Dublin, where was a log hut. To this Kettle went up with Erling and Glumm, and asked the man of the house how things were going on in Ireland.

“As ill as can be in this district,” said the man; “there is nothing but vengeance in the hearts of the people.”

“That is a bad state,” said Kettle, with a look of anxiety; “what may be the cause of discontent? Is the old King hard on ye?”

“Thou must have been long away to ask that. The old King is dead,” said the man.

At this Kettle uttered a great and bitter cry; but, restraining himself, asked eagerly if the old Queen were alive. The man replied that she was. Then Kettle asked how the King met his death.

With a dark frown the man replied that Haabrok the Black had murdered him and seized the throne. On hearing this Kettle became pale, but was very calm, and listened attentively while the man went on to say that Haabrok was such a tyrant that the whole district was ready to start up as one man and dethrone him, if they had only someone who was fit to lead them.

“That they shall not long want for,” said Kettle.

After some more earnest conversation he turned away, and went down to the shore.

“Now, Erling and Glumm,” said he, “we must do a little fighting before I can offer ye the hospitality I spoke of. Will ye aid me in a venture I have in my mind?”

“That will we,” they replied heartily.

Kettle thereupon explained his views, and said that he had learned from the man that his wife was still alive and well, but in the hands of the king of the district, who was a regicide and a tyrant. It was then arranged that the Swan should be rowed quietly up towards the town, and the men landed in the night at a spot where they could be ready to answer the summons of Kettle, Erling, Glumm, and Ulf, who were to go up unattended to the King’s house in Dublin, with no other arms than their short swords.

On drawing near, these four found the hall of the King’s house brilliantly lighted, for great festivities were going on there. No one interfered with them, because none guessed that so small a party would dare to go up half-armed for any other than peaceful purposes. They therefore went through the streets unmolested, and easily passed the guards, because Kettle plied them with a good deal of that which has since come to be known by the name of “blarney.”

When they got into the hall, Kettle went straight up to the high seat or throne on which Haabrok the Black was seated.

“Ye are presumptuous knaves,” said the tyrant, eyeing the strangers sternly; “is it thus that ye have been taught to approach the King? What is your errand?”

“For the matter of that, thou well-named villain,” said Kettle, “our errand will but add to our presumption, for we have come to slay thee.”

With that Kettle whipped out his sword and cut off Haabrok’s head, so that it went rolling over the floor, while the body fell back and spouted blood all over the horrified court men!

Instantly every man drew his sword; but Erling, Ulf, and Glumm leaped on the low platform of the throne, and presented such a bold front, that the bravest men there hesitated to attack them. At the same moment Kettle raised his sword and shouted, “If there be yet a true man in this hall who loves his country and reveres the memory of the good old King whom this dead dog slew, let him come hither. It is the voice of the King’s son that calls!”

“Sure, ’tis Kettle; I’d know his red head anywhere!” exclaimed a shrivelled old woman near the throne.

“Aye, nurse, it is Kettle himself—come back again,” he said, glancing towards the old woman with a kindly smile.

A ringing cheer burst from the crowd and filled the hall; again and again it rose, as nearly all the men present rushed round the throne and waved their swords frantically over their heads, or strove to shake hands with the son of their old King. In the midst of the tumult a wild shriek was heard; and the crowd, opening up, allowed a beautiful dark-eyed woman to rush towards Kettle, with a stalwart boy of about five years of age clinging to her skirts.

We need scarcely pause to say who these were, nor who the handsome matron was who afterwards went and clung round Kettle’s neck, and heaped fervent blessings on the head of her long-lost son. It is sufficient to say that the feast of that night was not interrupted; that, on the contrary, it was prolonged into the morning, and extended into every loyal home in the city; and that Kettle Flatnose entertained his Norse friends right royally for several days, after which he sent them away laden with gifts and benedictions. They did not quit Ireland, however, until they had seen him happily and securely seated on the throne of Dublin.

Sailing northward, the fleet touched at the Orkney and Shetland Islands, where they found that a number of the expatriated Sea-kings had comfortably settled themselves. Here some of Haldor’s people would fain have remained, but Frode, who was a man of enterprise, resolved to penetrate farther into the great unknown sea, to lands which rumour said did certainly exist there. Accordingly they left Shetland, and went on until they came to the Faroe Islands. Here they thought of settling, but on landing they found that a few of the Sea-kings had taken up their abode there before them.

“Now,” said Frode, “it is my great desire to break new ground. Shall we go and search farther to the west for that new island which has been lately discovered by Ingoll?”

To this Haldor and Ulf said they were agreed. Hilda plucked Erling by the sleeve, and whispered in his ear, after which he said that he too was agreed. Glumm glanced at Ada, who, with a little blush and smile, nodded. A nod was as good as a word to Glumm, so he also said he was agreed, and as no one else made objection, the ships’ prows were again turned towards the setting sun.

North-westward they sailed over the world of waters, until they came one fine morning in sight of land. As they drew near they saw that it was very beautiful, consisting partly of snow-capped mountains, with green fertile valleys here and there, and streams flowing through them. They ran the vessels into a bay and landed, and the country looked so peaceful, and withal so desirable, that it was at once resolved they should make this place their abode. Accordingly, while most of the men set themselves to work to land the goods, put up the tents, and make the women and children comfortable, a select band, well armed, prepared to go on an expedition into the country, to ascertain whether or not it was inhabited. Before these set out, however, Christian the hermit stood up on a rising ground, and, raising his eyes and hands to heaven, prayed for God’s blessing on their enterprise.

Thereafter plots of land were marked out, houses were built, “Things” were held, a regular government was established, and the island—for such it proved to be—was regularly taken possession of.

The exploring party found that this was indeed the island which they were in search of. It had been discovered about the middle of the ninth century, and a settlement had been made on it by Ingoll in the year 874; but the band of immigrants under Frode and Haldor was by far the most important that had landed on it up to that time.

In this manner, and under these circumstances, was Iceland colonised by expatriated Norsemen about the beginning of the tenth century!

Good reader, our tale is told. Gladly would we follow, step by step, the subsequent career of Erling and Glumm, for the lives of such men, from first to last, are always fraught with interest and instruction; but this may not be. We have brought them, with the other chief actors in this little tale, to a happy point in their adventurous career, and there we feel that we ought to leave them in peace. Yet we would fain touch on one or two prominent points in their subsequent history before bidding them a final farewell.

Let it be recorded, then, that many years after the date of the closing scene of our tale, there might have been seen in Iceland, at the head of a small bay, two pretty cottages, from the doors of which there was a magnificent view of as sweet a valley as ever filled the eye or gladdened the heart of man, with a distant glimpse of the great ocean beyond. On the sward before these cottages was assembled a large party of young men and maidens, the latter of whom were conspicuous for the sparkle of their blue eyes and the silky gloss of their fair hair, while the former were notable because of the great size and handsome proportions of their figures; some, however, of the men and maidens were dark and ruddy. The youths were engaged in putting the stone and throwing the hammer; the maidens looked on with interest—as maidens were wont to do on manly pastimes in days of old, and as they are not unwilling to do occasionally, even in modern times. Around these romped a host of children of all ages, sizes, and shades.

These were the descendants of Erling the Bold and Glumm the Gruff. The two families had, as it were, fused into one grand compound, which was quite natural, for their natures were diverse yet sympathetic; besides, Glumm was dark, Erling fair; and it is well known that black and white always go hand in hand, producing that sweet-toned grey, which Nature would seem to cherish with a love quite as powerful as the abhorrence with which she is supposed to regard a vacuum.

Beside each other, leaning against a tree, and admiring the prowess of the young men, stood Erling and Glumm, old, it is true, and past the time when men delight to exercise their muscles, but straight and stalwart, and still noble specimens of manhood. The most interesting group, however, was to be seen seated on a rustic bench near the door. There, sometimes conversing gravely with a silver-haired old man at his side, or stooping with a quiet smile to caress the head of a child that had rushed from its playmates for a little to be fondled by the “old one”—sat Haldor the Fierce, with Christian the hermit on one side, and Ulf of Romsdal on the other. Their heads were pure white, and their frames somewhat bent, but health still mantled on the sunburnt cheeks, and sparkled in the eyes of the old Norse Sea-kings.

Within the house might have been seen two exceedingly handsome matrons—such as one may see in Norway at the present time—who called each other Hilda and Ada, and who vied with a younger Hilda and Ada in their attentions upon two frail but cheery old women whom they called “Granny Heff” and “Granny Ast”. How very unlike—and yet how like—were these to the Herfrida and Astrid of former days!

Between the old dames there sat on a low stool a man of gigantic proportions, who had scarcely reached middle age, and who was still overflowing with the fun and fire of youth. He employed himself in alternately fondling and “chaffing” the two old women, and he was such an exact counterpart of what Erling the Bold was at the age of thirty, that his own mother was constantly getting confused, and had to be reminded that he wasAlric, and not Erling!

Alric’s wife, a daughter of Glumm, was with the young people on the lawn, and his six riotous children were among the chief tormentors of old Haldor.

Ingeborg was there too, sharp as ever, but not quite so sour. She was not a spinster. There were few spinsters in those days! She had married a man of the neighbouring valley, whom she loved to distraction, and whom she led the life of a dog! But it was her nature to be cross-grained. She could not help it, and the poor man appeared to grow fonder of her the more she worried him!

As for Ivor the Old and Finn the One-eyed, they, with most of their contemporaries, had long been gathered to their fathers, and their bones reposed on the grassy slopes of Laxriverdale.

As for the other personages of our tale, we have only space to remark that King Harald Haarfager succeeded in his wish to obtain the undivided sovereignty of Norway, but he failed to perpetuate the change; for the kingdom was, after his death, redivided amongst his sons. The last heard of Hake the berserk was, that he had been seen in the midst of a great battle to have both his legs cut off at one sweep, and that he died fighting on his stumps! Jarl Rongvold was burnt by King Harald’s sons, but his stout son, Rolf Ganger, left his native land, and conquered Normandy, whence his celebrated descendant, William the Conqueror, came across the Channel and conquered England.

Yes, there is perhaps more of Norse blood in your veins than you wot of, reader, whether you be English or Scotch; for those sturdy sea rovers invaded our lands from north, south, east, and west many a time in days gone by, and held it in possession for centuries at a time, leaving a lasting and beneficial impress on our customs and characters. We have good reason to regard their memory with respect and gratitude, despite their faults and sins, for much of what is good and true in our laws and social customs, much manly and vigorous in the British Constitution, of our intense love of freedom and fairplay, are pith, pluck, enterprise, and sense of justice that dwelt in the breasts of the rugged old Sea-kings of Norway!

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