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diff --git a/3097-h/3097-h.htm b/3097-h/3097-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d55cfb --- /dev/null +++ b/3097-h/3097-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14529 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wanderer's Necklace, by H. Rider Haggard</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Wanderer’s Necklace, by H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Wanderer’s Necklace</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 27, 2000 [eBook #3097]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 4, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE ***</div> + +<h1>THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + +<h3>First Published 1914.</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001">DEDICATION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002">NOTE BY THE EDITOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"><big><b>THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE</b></big></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"><b>BOOK I.—AAR</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I. THE BETROTHAL OF OLAF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II. THE SLAYING OF THE BEAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III. THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV. IDUNA WEARS THE NECKLACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V. THE BATTLE ON THE SEA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI. HOW OLAF FOUGHT WITH ODIN</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"><b>BOOK II.—BYZANTIUM</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER I. IRENE, EMPRESS OF THE EARTH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER II. THE BLIND CÆSAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER III. MOTHER AND SON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER IV. OLAF OFFERS HIS SWORD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER V. AVE POST SECULA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER VI. HELIODORE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER VII. VICTORY OR VALHALLA!</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER VIII. THE TRIAL OF OLAF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER IX. THE HALL OF THE PIT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER X. OLAF GIVES JUDGMENT</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0022"><b>BOOK III.—EGYPT</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER I. TIDINGS FROM EGYPT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER II. THE STATUES BY THE NILE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER III. THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD KINGS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER IV. THE CALIPH HARUN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER V. IRENE’S PRAYER</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a> +DEDICATION</h2> + +<p> +In memory of Oodnadatta and many wanderings oversea I offer these pictures from +the past, my dear Vincent, to you, a lover of the present if an aspirant who +can look upon the future with more of hope than fear. Your colleague, +</p> + +<p> +H. Rider Haggard. To Sir Edgar Vincent, K.C.M.G. +</p> + +<p> +Ditchingham, +</p> + +<p> +November, 1913. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a> +NOTE BY THE EDITOR</h2> + +<p> +It chances that I, the Editor of these pages—for, in truth, that is my +humble function—have recovered a considerable knowledge of a bygone life +of mine. This life ended in times that are comparatively recent, namely, early +in the ninth century, as is fixed by the fact that the Byzantine Empress, +Irene, plays a part in the story. +</p> + +<p> +The narrative, it will be observed, is not absolutely consecutive; that is to +say, all the details are not filled in. Indeed, it has returned to me in a +series of scenes or pictures, and although each scene or picture has to do with +every other, there are sometimes gaps between them. To take one example among +several—the journey of Olaf (in those days my name was Olaf, or Michael +after I was baptised) from the North to Constantinople is not recorded. The +curtain drops at Aar in Jutland and rises again in Byzantium. Only those events +which were of the most importance seem to have burned themselves into my +subconscious memory; many minor details have vanished, or, at least, I cannot +find them. This, however, does not appear to me to be a matter for regret. If +every episode of a full and eventful life were painted in, the canvas would be +overloaded and the eye that studied it bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +I do not think that I have anything more to say. My tale must speak for itself. +So I will but add that I hold it unnecessary to set out the exact method by +which I have been able to dig it and others from the quarry of my past. It is a +gift which, although small at first, I have been able gradually to develop. +Therefore, as I wish to hide my present identity, I will only sign myself +</p> + +<p> +The Editor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a> +THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"></a> +BOOK I<br/> +AAR</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I<br/> +THE BETROTHAL OF OLAF</h2> + +<p> +Of my childhood in this Olaf life I can regain but little. There come to me, +however, recollections of a house, surrounded by a moat, situated in a great +plain near to seas or inland lakes, on which plain stood mounds that I +connected with the dead. What the dead were I did not quite understand, but I +gathered that they were people who, having once walked about and been awake, +now laid themselves down in a bed of earth and slept. I remember looking at a +big mound which was said to cover a chief known as “The Wanderer,” +whom Freydisa, the wise woman, my nurse, told me had lived hundreds or +thousands of years before, and thinking that so much earth over him must make +him very hot at nights. +</p> + +<p> +I remember also that the hall called Aar was a long house roofed with sods, on +which grew grass and sometimes little white flowers, and that inside of it cows +were tied up. We lived in a place beyond, that was separated off from the cows +by balks of rough timber. I used to watch them being milked through a crack +between two of the balks where a knot had fallen out, leaving a convenient +eyehole about the height of a walking-stick from the floor. +</p> + +<p> +One day my elder and only brother, Ragnar, who had very red hair, came and +pulled me away from this eyehole because he wanted to look through it himself +at a cow that always kicked the girl who milked it. I howled, and Steinar, my +foster-brother, who had light-coloured hair and blue eyes, and was much bigger +and stronger than I, came to my help, because we always loved each other. He +fought Ragnar and made his nose bleed, after which my mother, the Lady Thora, +who was very beautiful, boxed his ears. Then we all cried, and my father, +Thorvald, a tall man, rather loosely made, who had come in from hunting, for he +carried the skin of some animal of which the blood had run down on to his +leggings, scolded us and told my mother to keep us quiet as he was tired and +wanted to eat. +</p> + +<p> +That is the only scene which returns to me of my infancy. +</p> + +<p> +The next of which a vision has come to me is one of a somewhat similar house to +our own in Aar, upon an island called Lesso, where we were all visiting a chief +of the name of Athalbrand. He was a fierce-looking man with a great forked +beard, from which he was called Athalbrand Fork-beard. One of his nostrils was +larger than the other, and he had a droop in his left eye, both of which +peculiarities came to him from some wound or wounds that he had received in +war. In those days everybody was at war with everybody else, and it was quite +uncommon for anyone to live until his hair turned grey. +</p> + +<p> +The reason of our visit to this chief Athalbrand was that my elder brother, +Ragnar, might be betrothed to his only surviving child, Iduna, all of whose +brothers had been killed in some battle. I can see Iduna now as she was when +she first appeared before us. We were sitting at table, and she entered through +a door at the top of the hall. She was clothed in a blue robe, her long fair +hair, whereof she had an abundance, was arranged in two plaits which hung +almost to her knees, and about her neck and arms were massive gold rings that +tinkled as she walked. She had a round face, coloured like a wild rose, and +innocent blue eyes that took in everything, although she always seemed to look +in front of her and see nothing. Her lips were very red and appeared to smile. +Altogether I thought her the loveliest creature that ever I had looked on, and +she walked like a deer and held her head proudly. +</p> + +<p> +Still, she did not please Ragnar, who whispered to me that she was sly and +would bring mischief on all that had to do with her. I, who at the time was +about twenty-one years of age, wondered if he had gone mad to talk thus of this +beautiful creature. Then I remembered that just before we had left home I had +caught Ragnar kissing the daughter of one of our thralls behind the shed in +which the calves were kept. She was a brown girl, very well made, as her rough +robe, fastened beneath her breast with a strap, showed plainly, and she had big +dark eyes with a sleepy look in them. Also, I never saw anyone kiss quite so +hard as she did; Ragnar himself was outpassed. I think that is why even the +great lady, Iduna the Fair, did not please him. All the while he was thinking +of the brown-eyed girl in the russet robe. Still, it is true that, brown-eyed +girl or no, he read Iduna aright. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, if Ragnar did not like Iduna, from the first Iduna hated Ragnar. So +it came about that, although both my father, Thorvald, and Iduna’s +father, Athalbrand, stormed and threatened, these two declared that they would +have nothing to do with each other, and the project of their marriage came to +an end. +</p> + +<p> +On the night before we were to leave Lesso, whence Ragnar had already gone, +Athalbrand saw me staring at Iduna. This, indeed, was not wonderful, as I could +not take my eyes from her lovely face, and when she looked at me and smiled +with those red lips of hers I became like a silly bird that is bewitched by a +snake. At first I thought that he was going to be angry, but suddenly some idea +seemed to strike him so that he called my father, Thorvald, outside the house. +Afterwards I was sent for, and found the two of them seated on a +three-cornered, flat stone, talking in the moonlight, for it was summer-time, +when everything looks blue at night and the sun and the moon ride in the sky +together. Near by stood my mother, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” said my father, “would you like to marry Iduna the +Fair?” +</p> + +<p> +“Like to marry Iduna?” I gasped. “Aye, more than to be High +King of Denmark, for she is no woman, but a goddess.” +</p> + +<p> +At this saying my mother laughed, and Athalbrand, who knew Iduna when she did +not seem a goddess, called me a fool. Then they talked, while I stood trembling +with hope and fear. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s but a second son,” said Athalbrand. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you there is land enough for both of them, also the gold +that came with his mother will be his, and that’s no small sum,” +answered Thorvald. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s no warrior, but a skald,” objected Athalbrand again; +“a silly half-man who makes songs and plays upon the harp.” +</p> + +<p> +“Songs are sometimes stronger than swords,” replied my father, +“and, after all, it is wisdom that rules. One brain can govern many men; +also, harps make merry music at a feast. Moreover, Olaf is brave enough. How +can he be otherwise coming of the stock he does?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is thin and weedy,” objected Athalbrand, a saying that made my +mother angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, lord Athalbrand,” she said; “he is tall and straight as +a dart, and will yet be the handsomest man in these parts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Every duck thinks it has hatched out a swan,” grumbled Athalbrand, +while with my eyes I implored my mother to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +Then he thought for awhile, pulling at his long forked beard, and said at last: +</p> + +<p> +“My heart tells me no good of such a marriage. Iduna, who is the only one +left to me, could marry a man of more wealth and power than this rune-making +stripling is ever likely to be. Yet just now I know none such whom I would wish +to hold my place when I am gone. Moreover, it is spread far and wide throughout +the land that my daughter is to be wed to Thorvald’s son, and it matters +little to which son. At least, I will not have it said that she has been given +the go-by. Therefore, let this Olaf take her, if she will have him. +Only,” he added with a growl, “let him play no tricks like that +red-headed cub, his brother Ragnar, if he would not taste of a spear through +his liver. Now I go to learn Iduna’s mind.” +</p> + +<p> +So he went; as did my father and mother, leaving me alone, thinking and +thanking the gods for the chance that had come my way—yes, and blessing +Ragnar and that brown-eyed wench who had thrown her spell over him. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I stood thus I heard a sound, and, turning, saw Iduna gliding towards me +in the blue twilight, looking more lovely than a dream. At my side she stopped +and said: +</p> + +<p> +“My father tells me you wish to speak with me,” and she laughed a +little softly and held me with her beautiful eyes. +</p> + +<p> +After that I know not what happened till I saw Iduna bending towards me like a +willow in the wind, and then—oh, joy of joys!—felt her kiss upon my +lips. Now my speech was unsealed, and I told her the tale that lovers have +always told. How that I was ready to die for her (to which she answered that +she had rather that I lived, since ghosts were no good husbands); how that I +was not worthy of her (to which she answered that I was young, with all my time +before me, and might live to be greater than I thought, as she believed I +should); and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +Only one more thing comes back to me of that blissful hour. Foolishly I said +what I had been thinking, namely, that I blessed Ragnar. At these words, of a +sudden Iduna’s face grew stern and the lovelight in her eyes was changed +to such as gleams from swords. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not bless Ragnar,” she answered. “I hope one day to see +Ragnar——” and she checked herself, adding: “Come, let +us enter, Olaf. I hear my father calling me to mix his sleeping-cup.” +</p> + +<p> +So we went into the house hand in hand, and when they saw us coming thus, all +gathered there burst into shouts of laughter after their rude fashion. +Moreover, beakers were thrust into our hands, and we were made to drink from +them and swear some oath. Thus ended our betrothal. +</p> + +<p> +I think it was on the next day that we sailed for home in my father’s +largest ship of war, which was named the <i>Swan</i>. I went unwillingly +enough, who desired to drink more of the delight of Iduna’s eyes. Still, +go I must, since Athalbrand would have it so. The marriage, he said, should +take place at Aar at the time of the Spring feast, and not before. Meanwhile he +held it best we should be apart that we might learn whether we still clung to +each other in absence. +</p> + +<p> +These were the reasons he gave, but I think that he was already somewhat sorry +for what he had done, and reflected that between harvest and springtime he +might find another husband for Iduna, who was more to his mind. For Athalbrand, +as I learned afterwards, was a scheming and a false-hearted man. Moreover, he +was of no high lineage, but one who had raised himself up by war and plunder, +and therefore his blood did not compel him to honour. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The next scene which comes back to me of those early days is that of the +hunting of the white northern bear, when I saved the life of Steinar, my +foster-brother, and nearly lost my own. +</p> + +<p> +It was on a day when the winter was merging into spring, but the coast-line +near Aar was still thick with pack ice and large floes which had floated in +from the more northern seas. A certain fisherman who dwelt on this shore came +to the hall to tell us that he had seen a great white bear on one of these +floes, which, he believed, had swum from it to the land. He was a man with a +club-foot, and I can recall a vision of him limping across the snow towards the +drawbridge of Aar, supporting himself by a staff on the top of which was cut +the figure of some animal. +</p> + +<p> +“Young lords,” he cried out, “there is a white bear on the +land, such a bear as once I saw when I was a boy. Come out and kill the bear +and win honour, but first give me a drink for my news.” +</p> + +<p> +At that time I think my father, Thorvald, was away from home with most of the +men, I do not know why; but Ragnar, Steinar and I were lingering about the +stead with little or nothing to do, since the time of sowing was not yet. At +the news of the club-footed man, we ran for our spears, and one of us went to +tell the only thrall who could be spared to make ready the horses and come with +us. Thora, my mother, would have stopped us—she said she had heard from +her father that such bears were very dangerous beasts—but Ragnar only +thrust her aside, while I kissed her and told her not to fret. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the hall I met Freydisa, a dark, quiet woman of middle age, one of the +virgins of Odin, whom I loved and who loved me and, save one other, me only +among men, for she had been my nurse. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither now, young Olaf?” she asked me. “Has Iduna come here +that you run so fast?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, “but a white bear has.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then things are better than I thought, who feared lest it might be +Iduna before her time. Still, you go on an ill errand, from which I think you +will return sadly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say that, Freydisa?” I asked. “Is it just because +you love to croak like a raven on a rock, or for some good reason?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Olaf,” she answered. “I say things +because they come to me, and I must, that is all. I tell you that evil will be +born of this bear hunt of yours, and you had better stop at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be laughed at by my brethren, Freydisa? Moreover, you are foolish, +for if evil is to be, how can I avoid it? Either your foresight is nothing or +the evil must come.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” answered Freydisa. “From your childhood up you +had the gift of reason which is more than is granted to most of these fools +about us. Go, Olaf, and meet your fore-ordained evil. Still, kiss me before you +go lest we should not see each other again for a while. If the bear kills you, +at least you will be saved from Iduna.” +</p> + +<p> +Now while she said these words I was kissing Freydisa, whom I loved dearly, but +when I understood them I leapt back before she could kiss me again. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by your talk about Iduna?” I asked. “Iduna +is my betrothed, and I’ll suffer no ill speech of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know she is, Olaf. You’ve got Ragnar’s leavings. Although +he is so hot-headed, Ragnar is a wise dog in some ways, who can tell what he +should not eat. There, begone, you think me jealous of Iduna, as old women can +be, but it’s not that, my dear. Oh! you’ll learn before all is +done, if you live. Begone, begone! I’ll tell you no more. Hark, Ragnar is +shouting to you,” and she pushed me away. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long ride to where the bear was supposed to be. At first as we went we +talked a great deal, and made a wager as to which of the three of us should +first drive a spear into the beast’s body so deep that the blade was +hidden, but afterwards I grew silent. Indeed, I was musing so much of Iduna and +how the time drew near when once more I should see her sweet face, wondering +also why Ragnar and Freydisa should think so ill of her who seemed a goddess +rather than a woman, that I forgot all about the bear. So completely did I +forget it that when, being by nature very observant, I saw the slot of such a +beast as we passed a certain birch wood, I did not think to connect it with +that which we were hunting or to point it out to the others who were riding +ahead of me. +</p> + +<p> +At length we came to the sea, and there, sure enough, saw a great ice-floe, +which now and again tilted as the surge caught its broad green flank. When it +tilted towards us we perceived a track worn deep into the ice by the paws of +the prisoned bear as it had marched endlessly round. Also we saw a big grinning +skull, whereon sat a raven picking at the eye-holes, and some fragments of +white fur. +</p> + +<p> +“The bear is dead!” exclaimed Ragnar. “Odin’s curse be +on that club-footed fool who gave us this cold ride for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so,” said Steinar doubtfully. “Don’t +you think that it is dead, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the good of asking Olaf?” broke in Ragnar, with a loud +laugh. “What does Olaf know about bears? He has been asleep for the last +half-hour dreaming of Athalbrand’s blue-eyed daughter; or perhaps he is +making up another poem.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf sees farther when he seems asleep than some of us do when we are +awake,” answered Steinar hotly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” replied Ragnar. “Sleeping or waking, Olaf is +perfect in your eyes, for you’ve drunk the same milk, and that ties you +tighter than a rope. Wake up, now, brother Olaf, and tell us: Is not the bear +dead?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I answered, “Why, of course, a bear is dead; see its skull, also +pieces of its hide?” +</p> + +<p> +“There!” exclaimed Ragnar. “Our family prophet has settled +the matter. Let us go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf said that <i>a</i> bear was dead,” answered Steinar, +hesitating. +</p> + +<p> +Ragnar, who had already swung himself round in his quick fashion, spoke back +over his shoulder: +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that enough for you? Do you want to hunt a skull or the +raven sitting on it? Or is this, perchance, one of Olaf’s riddles? If so, +I am too cold to guess riddles just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I think there is one for you to guess, brother,” I said +gently, “and it is: Where is the live bear hiding? Can’t you see +that there were two bears on that ice-head, and that one has killed and eaten +the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” asked Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I saw the slot of the second as we passed the birch wood yonder. +It has a split claw on the left forefoot and the others are all worn by the +ice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why in Odin’s name did you not say so before?” +exclaimed Ragnar angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Now I was ashamed to confess that I had been dreaming, so I answered at hazard: +</p> + +<p> +“Because I wished to look upon the sea and the floating ice. See what +wondrous colours they take in this light!” +</p> + +<p> +When he heard this, Steinar burst out laughing till tears came into his blue +eyes and his broad shoulders shook. But Ragnar, who cared nothing for scenery +or sunsets, did not laugh. On the contrary, as was usual with him when vexed, +he lost his temper and swore by the more evil of the gods. Then he turned on me +and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Why not tell the truth at once, Olaf? You are afraid of this beast, and +that’s why you let us come on here when you knew it was in the wood. You +hoped that before we got back there it would be too dark to hunt.” +</p> + +<p> +At this taunt I flushed and gripped the shaft of my long hunting spear, for +among us Northmen to be told that he was afraid of anything was a deadly insult +to a man. +</p> + +<p> +“If you were not my brother——” I began, then checked +myself, for I was by nature easy-tempered, and went on: “It is true, +Ragnar, I am not so fond of hunting as you are. Still, I think that there will +be time to fight this bear and kill or be killed by it, before it grows dark, +and if not I will return alone to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I pulled my horse round and rode ahead. As I went, my ears being very +quick, I heard the other two talking together. At least, I suppose that I heard +them; at any rate, I know what they said, although, strangely enough, nothing +at all comes back to me of their tale of an attack upon a ship or of what then +I did or did not do. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not wise to jeer at Olaf,” said Steinar, “for when he +is stung with words he does mad things. Don’t you remember what happened +when your father called him ‘niddering’ last year because Olaf said +it was not just to attack the ship of those British men who had been driven to +our coast by weather, meaning us no harm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” answered Ragnar. “He leapt among them all alone as +soon as our boat touched her side, and felled the steersman. Then the British +men shouted out that they would not kill so brave a lad, and threw him into the +sea. It cost us that ship, since by the time we had picked him up she had put +about and hoisted her large sail. Oh, Olaf is brave enough, we all know that! +Still, he ought to have been born a woman or a priest of Freya who only offers +flowers. Also, he knows my tongue and bears no malice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray that we get him home safe,” said Steinar uneasily, “for +if not there will be trouble with your mother and every other woman in the +land, to say nothing of Iduna the Fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna the Fair would live through it,” answered Ragnar, with a +hard laugh. “But you are right; and, what is more, there will be trouble +among the men also, especially with my father and in my own heart. After all +there is but one Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment I held up my hand, and they stopped talking. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II<br/> +THE SLAYING OF THE BEAR</h2> + +<p> +Leaping from their horses, Ragnar and Steinar came to where I stood, for +already I had dismounted and was pointing to the ground, which just here had +been swept clear of snow by the wind. +</p> + +<p> +“I see nothing,” said Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“But I do, brother,” I answered; “who study the ways of wild +things while you think I am asleep. Look, that moss has been turned over; for +it is frozen underneath and pressed up into little mounds between the +bear’s claws. Also that tiny pool has gathered in the slot of the paw; it +is its very shape. The other footprints do not show because of the rock.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I went forward a few paces behind some bushes and called out: “Here +runs the track, sure enough, and, as I thought, the brute has a split claw; the +snow marks it well. Bid the thrall stay with the horses and come you.” +</p> + +<p> +They obeyed, and there on the white snow which lay beyond the bush we saw the +track of the bear stamped as if in wax. +</p> + +<p> +“A mighty beast,” said Ragnar. “Never have I seen its +like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” exclaimed Steinar, “but an ill place to hunt it +in,” and he looked doubtfully at the rough gorge, covered with +undergrowth, that some hundred yards farther on became dense birch forest. +“I think it would be well to ride back to Aar, and return to-morrow +morning with all whom we can gather. This is no task for three spears.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time I, Olaf, was springing from rock to rock up the gorge, following +the bear’s track. For my brother’s taunts rankled in me and I was +determined that I should kill this beast or die and thus show Ragnar that I +feared no bear. So I called back to them over my shoulder: +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, go home, it is wisest; but I go on for I have never yet seen one of +these white ice-bears alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now it is Olaf who taunts in his turn,” said Ragnar with a laugh. +Then they both sprang after me, but always I kept ahead of them. +</p> + +<p> +For the half of a mile or more they followed me out of the scrub into the birch +forest, where the snow, lying on the matted boughs of the trees and especially +of some firs that were mingled with the birch, made the place gloomy in that +low light. Always in front of me ran the huge slots of the bear till at length +they brought me to a little forest glade, where some great whirling wind had +torn up many trees which had but a poor root-hold on a patch of almost soilless +rock. +</p> + +<p> +These trees lay in confusion, their tops, which had not yet rotted, being +filled with frozen snow. On the edge of them I paused, having lost the track. +Then I went forward again, casting wide as a hound does, while behind came +Ragnar and Steinar, walking straight past the edge of the glade, and purposing +to meet me at its head. This, indeed, Ragnar did, but Steinar halted because of +a crunching sound that caught his ear, and then stepped to the right between +two fallen birches to discover its cause. Next moment, as he told me +afterwards, he stood frozen, for there behind the boughs of one of the trees +was the huge white bear, eating some animal that it had killed. The beast saw +him, and, mad with rage at being disturbed, for it was famished after its long +journey on the floe, reared itself up on its hind legs, roaring till the air +shook. High it towered, its hook-like claws outstretched. +</p> + +<p> +Steinar tried to spring back, but caught his foot, and fell. Well for him was +it that he did so, for otherwise the blow which the bear struck would have +crushed him to a pulp. The brute did not seem to understand where he had +gone—at any rate, it remained upreared and beating at the air. Then a +doubt took it, its huge paws sank until it sat like a begging dog, sniffing the +wind. At this moment Ragnar came back shouting, and hurled his spear. It stuck +in the beast’s chest and hung there. The bear began to feel for it with +its paws, and, catching the shaft, lifted it to its mouth and champed it, thus +dragging the steel from its hide. +</p> + +<p> +Then it bethought it of Steinar, and, sinking down, discovered him, and tore at +the birch tree under which he had crept till the splinters flew from its trunk. +Just then I reached it, having seen all. By now the bear had its teeth fixed in +Steinar’s shoulder, or, rather, in his leathern garment, and was dragging +him from under the tree. When it saw me it reared itself up again, lifting +Steinar and holding him to its breast with one paw. I went mad at the sight, +and charged it, driving my spear deep into its throat. With its other paw it +struck the weapon from my hand, shivering the shaft. There it stood, towering +over us like a white pillar, and roared with pain and fury, Steinar still +pressed against it, Ragnar and I helpless. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s sped!” gasped Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +I thought for a flash of time, and—oh! well do I remember that moment: +the huge beast foaming at the jaws and Steinar held to its breast as a little +girl holds a doll; the still, snow-laden trees, on the top of one of which sat +a small bird spreading its tail in jerks; the red light of evening, and about +us the great silences of the sky above and of the lonely forest beneath. It all +comes back to me—I can see it now quite clearly; yes, even the bird +flitting to another twig, and there again spreading its tail to some invisible +mate. Then I made up my mind what to do. +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet!” I cried. “Keep it in play,” and, drawing my +short and heavy sword, I plunged through the birch boughs to get behind the +bear. Ragnar understood. He threw his cap into the brute’s face, and +then, after it had growled at him awhile, just as it dropped its great jaws to +crunch Steinar, he found a bough and thrust it between them. +</p> + +<p> +By now I was behind the bear, and, smiting at its right leg below the knee, +severed the tendon. Down it came, still hugging Steinar. I smote again with all +my strength, and cut into its spine above the tail, paralysing it. It was a +great blow, as it need to be to cleave the thick hair and hide, and my sword +broke in the backbone, so that, like Ragnar, now I was weaponless. The forepart +of the bear rolled about in the snow, although its after half was still. +</p> + +<p> +Then once more it seemed to bethink itself of Steinar, who lay unmoving and +senseless. Stretching out a paw, it dragged him towards its champing jaws. +Ragnar leapt upon its back and struck at it with his knife, thereby only +maddening it the more. I ran in and grasped Steinar, whom the bear was again +hugging to its breast. Seeing me, it loosed Steinar, whom I dragged away and +cast behind me, but in the effort I slipped and fell forward. The bear smote at +me, and its mighty forearm—well for me that it was not its +claws—struck me upon the side of the head and sent me crashing into a +tree-top to the left. Five paces I flew before my body touched the boughs, and +there I lay quiet. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose that Ragnar told me what passed after this while I was senseless. At +least, I know that the bear began to die, for my spear had pierced some artery +in its throat, and all the talk which followed, as well as though I heard it +with my ears. It roared and roared, vomiting blood and stretching out its claws +after Steinar as Ragnar dragged him away. Then it laid its head flat upon the +snow and died. Ragnar looked at it and muttered: +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he walked to that top of the fallen tree in which I lay, and again +muttered: “Dead! Well, Valhalla holds no braver man than Olaf the +Skald.” +</p> + +<p> +Next he went to Steinar and once again exclaimed, “Dead!” +</p> + +<p> +For so he looked, indeed, smothered in the blood of the bear and with his +garments half torn off him. Still, as the words passed Ragnar’s lips he +sat up, rubbed his eyes and smiled as a child does when it awakes. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you much hurt?” asked Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not,” he answered doubtfully, “save that I feel sore +and my head swims. I have had a bad dream.” Then his eyes fell on the +bear, and he added: “Oh, I remember now; it was no dream. Where is +Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Supping with Odin,” answered Ragnar and pointed to me. +</p> + +<p> +Steinar rose to his feet, staggered to where I lay, and stared at me stretched +there as white as the snow, with a smile upon my face and in my hand a spray of +some evergreen bush which I had grasped as I fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he die to save me?” asked Steinar. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” answered Ragnar, “and never did man walk that bridge +in better fashion. You were right. Would that I had not mocked him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would that I had died and not he,” said Steinar with a sob. +“It is borne in upon my heart that it were better I had died.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that may well be, for the heart does not lie at such a time. Also +it is true that he was worth both of us. There was something more in him than +there is in us, Steinar. Come, lift him to my back, and if you are strong +enough, go on to the horses and bid the thrall bring one of them. I +follow.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus ended the fight with the great white bear. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Some four hours later, in the midst of a raging storm of wind and rain, I was +brought at last to the bridge that spanned the moat of the Hall of Aar, laid +like a corpse across the back of one of the horses. They had been searching for +us at Aar, but in that darkness had found nothing. Only, at the head of the +bridge was Freydisa, a torch in her hand. She glanced at me by the light of the +torch. +</p> + +<p> +“As my heart foretold, so it is,” she said. “Bring him +in,” then turned and ran to the house. +</p> + +<p> +They bore me up between the double ranks of stabled kine to where the great +fire of turf and wood burned at the head of the hall, and laid me on a table. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he dead?” asked Thorvald, my father, who had come home that +night; “and if so, how?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, father,” answered Ragnar, “and nobly. He dragged +Steinar yonder from under the paws of the great white bear and slew it with his +sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“A mighty deed,” muttered my father. “Well, at least he comes +home in honour.” +</p> + +<p> +But my mother, whose favourite son I was, lifted up her voice and wept. Then +they took the clothes from off me, and, while all watched, Freydisa, the +skilled woman, examined my hurts. She felt my head and looked into my eyes, and +laying her ear upon my breast, listened for the beating of my heart. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she rose, and, turning, said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf is not dead, though near to death. His pulses flutter, the light of +life still burns in his eyes, and though the blood runs from his ears, I think +the skull is not broken.” +</p> + +<p> +When she heard these words, Thora, my mother, whose heart was weak, fainted for +joy, and my father, untwisting a gold ring from his arm, threw it to Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +“First the cure,” she said, thrusting it away with her foot. +“Moreover, when I work for love I take no pay.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they washed me, and, having dressed my hurts, laid me on a bed near the +fire that warmth might come back to me. But Freydisa would not suffer them to +give me anything save a little hot milk which she poured down my throat. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +For three days I lay like one dead; indeed, all save my mother held Freydisa +wrong and thought that I was dead. But on the fourth day I opened my eyes and +took food, and after that fell into a natural sleep. On the morning of the +sixth day I sat up and spoke many wild and wandering words, so that they +believed I should only live as a madman. +</p> + +<p> +“His mind is gone,” said my mother, and wept. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” answered Freydisa, “he does but return from a land +where they speak another tongue. Thorvald, bring hither the bear-skin.” +</p> + +<p> +It was brought and hung on a frame of poles at the end of the niche in which I +slept, that, as was usual among northern people, opened out of the hall. I +stared at it for a long while. Then my memory came back and I asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Did the great beast kill Steinar?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered my mother, who sat by me. “Steinar was sore +hurt, but escaped and now is well again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see him with my own eyes,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +So he was brought, and I looked on him. “I am glad you live, my +brother,” I said, “for know in this long sleep of mine I have +dreamed that you were dead”; and I stretched out my wasted arms towards +him, for I loved Steinar better than any other man. +</p> + +<p> +He came and kissed me on the brow, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, thanks to you, Olaf, I live to be your brother and your thrall till +the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother always, not my thrall,” I muttered, for I was growing +tired. Then I went to sleep again. +</p> + +<p> +Three days later, when my strength began to return, I sent for Steinar and +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Brother, Iduna the Fair, whom you have never seen, my betrothed, must +wonder how it fares with me, for the tale of this hurt of mine will have +reached Lesso. Now, as there are reasons why Ragnar cannot go, and as I would +send no mean man, I pray you to do me a favour. It is that you will take a boat +and sail to Lesso, carrying with you as a present from me to Athalbrand’s +daughter the skin of that white bear, which I trust will serve her and me as a +bed-covering in winter for many a year to come. Tell her, thanks be to the gods +and to the skill of Freydisa, my nurse, I live who all thought must die, and +that I trust to be strong and well for our marriage at the Spring feast which +draws on. Say also that through all my sickness I have dreamed of none but her, +as I trust that sometimes she may have dreamed of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I’ll go,” answered Steinar, “fast as +horses’ legs and sails can carry me,” adding with his pleasant +laugh: “Long have I desired to see this Iduna of yours, and to learn +whether she is as beautiful as you say; also what it is in her that Ragnar +hates.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful that you do not find her too beautiful,” broke in +Freydisa, who, as ever, was at my side. +</p> + +<p> +“How can I if she is for Olaf?” answered Steinar, smiling, as he +left the place to make ready for his journey to Lesso. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you mean by those words, Freydisa?” I asked when he was +gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Little or much,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. +“Iduna is lovely, is she not, and Steinar is handsome, is he not, and of +an age when man seeks woman, and what is brotherhood when man seeks woman and +woman beguiles man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to your riddles, Freydisa. You forget that Iduna is my betrothed +and that Steinar was fostered with me. Why, I’d trust them for a week at +sea alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, Olaf, being young and foolish, as you are; also that is your +nature. Now here is the broth. Drink it, and I, whom some call a wise woman and +others a witch, say that to-morrow you may rise from this bed and sit in the +sun, if there is any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Freydisa,” I said when I had swallowed the broth, “why do +folk call you a witch?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think because I am a little less of a fool than other women, Olaf. +Also because it has not pleased me to marry, as it is held natural that all +women should do if they have the chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you wiser, and why have you not married, Freydisa?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am wiser because I have questioned things more than most, and to those +who question answers come at last. And I am not married because another woman +took the only man I wanted before I met him. That was my bad luck. Still, it +taught me a great lesson, namely, how to wait and meanwhile to acquire +understanding.” +</p> + +<p> +“What understanding have you acquired, Freydisa? For instance, does it +tell you that our gods of wood and stone are true gods which rule the world? Or +are they but wood and stone, as sometimes I have thought?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then think no more, Olaf, for such thoughts are dangerous. If Leif, your +uncle, Odin’s high priest, heard them, what might he not say or do? +Remember that whether the gods live or no, certainly the priest lives, and on +the gods, and if the gods went, where would the priest be? Also, as regards +these gods—well, whatever they may or may not be, at least they are the +voices that in our day speak to us from that land whence we came and whither we +go. The world has known millions of days, and each day has its god—or its +voice—and all the voices speak truth to those who can hear them. +Meanwhile, you are a fool to have sent Steinar bearing your gift to Iduna. Or +perhaps you are very wise. I cannot say as yet. When I learn I will tell +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then again she shrugged her shoulders and left me wondering what she meant by +her dark sayings. I can see her going now, a wooden bowl in her hand, and in it +a horn spoon of which the handle was cracked longways, and thus in my mind ends +all the scene of my sickness after the slaying of the white bear. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The next thing that I remember is the coming of the men of Agger. This cannot +have been very long after Steinar went to Lesso, for he had not yet returned. +Being still weak from my great illness, I was seated in the sun in the shelter +of the house, wrapped up in a cloak of deerskins—for the northern wind +blew bitter. By me stood my father, who was in a happy mood now he knew that I +should live and be strong again. +</p> + +<p> +“Steinar should be back by now,” I said to him. “I trust that +he has come by no ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no,” answered my father carelessly. “For seven days the +wind has been high, and doubtless Athalbrand fears to let him sail from +Lesso.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or perhaps Steinar finds Athalbrand’s hall a pleasant place to +bide in,” suggested Ragnar, who had joined us, a spear in his hand, for +he had come in from hunting. “There are good drink and bright eyes +there.” +</p> + +<p> +I was about to answer sharply, since Ragnar stung me with his bitter talk of +Steinar, of whom I knew him to be somewhat jealous, because he thought I loved +my foster-brother more than I did him, my brother. Just then, however, three +men appeared through trees that grew about the hall, and came towards the +bridge, whereon Ragnar’s great wolfhounds, knowing them for strangers, +set up a furious baying and sprang forward to tear them. By the time the beasts +were caught and quelled, these men, aged persons of presence, had crossed the +bridge and were greeting us. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the hall of Thorvald of Aar, is it not? And a certain Steinar +dwells here with him, does he not?” asked their spokesman. +</p> + +<p> +“It is, and I am Thorvald,” answered my father. “Also Steinar +has dwelt here from his birth up, but is now away from home on a visit to the +lord Athalbrand of Lesso. Who are you, and what would you of Steinar, my +fosterling” +</p> + +<p> +“When you have told us the story of Steinar we will tell you who we are +and what we seek,” answered the man, adding: “Fear not, we mean him +no harm, but rather good if he is the man we think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wife,” called my father, “come hither. Here are men who +would know the story of Steinar, and say that they mean him good.” +</p> + +<p> +So my mother came, and the men bowed to her. +</p> + +<p> +“The story of Steinar is short, sirs,” she said. “His mother, +Steingerdi, who was my cousin and the friend of my childhood, married the great +chief Hakon, of Agger, two and twenty summers gone. A year later, just before +Steinar was born, she fled to me here, asking shelter of my lord. Her tale was +that she had quarrelled with Hakon because another woman had crept into her +place. Finding that this tale was true, and that Hakon had treated her ill +indeed, we gave her shelter, and here her son Steinar was born, in giving birth +to whom she died—of a broken heart, as I think, for she was mad with +grief and jealousy. I nursed him with my son Olaf yonder, and as, although he +had news of his birth, Hakon never claimed him, with us he has dwelt as a son +ever since. That is all the tale. Now what would you with Steinar?” +</p> + +<p> +“This, Lady. The lord Hakon and the three sons whom that other woman you +tell of bore him ere she died—for after Steingerdi’s death he +married her—were drowned in making harbour on the night of the great gale +eighteen days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the day when the bear nearly killed Steinar,” I +interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Well for him, then, young sir, that he escaped this bear, for now, as it +seems to us, he is the lord of all Hakon’s lands and people, being the +only male left living of his issue. This, by the wish of the head men of Agger, +where is Hakon’s hall, we have come to tell him, if he still lives, since +by report he is a goodly man and brave—one well fitted to sit in +Hakon’s place. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the heritage great?” asked my father. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, very great, Lord. In all Jutland there was no richer man than +Hakon.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Odin!” exclaimed my father, “it seems that Steinar is in +Fortune’s favour. Well, men of Agger, enter and rest you. After you have +eaten we will talk further of these matters.” +</p> + +<p> +It was just then that, appearing between the trees on the road that ran to +Fladstrand and to the sea, I saw a company mounted upon horses. In front was a +young woman, wrapped in a coat of furs, talking eagerly to a man who rode by +her. Behind, clad in armour, with a battle-axe girt about him, rode another +man, big and fork-bearded, who stared about him gloomily, and behind him again +ten or twelve thralls and seamen. +</p> + +<p> +One glance was enough for me. Then I sprang up, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna’s self, and with her my brother Steinar, the lord Athalbrand +and his folk. A happy sight indeed!” And I would have run forward to meet +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said my mother; “but await them here, I pray you. +You are not yet strong, my son.” And she flung her arms about me and held +me. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they were at the bridge, and Steinar, springing from his horse, +lifted Iduna from her saddle, a sight at which I saw my mother frown. Then I +would no longer be restrained, but ran forward, crying greetings as I came, +and, seizing Iduna’s hand, I kissed it. Indeed, I would have kissed her +cheek also, but she shrank back, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Not before all these folk, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will,” I answered, though just then a chill struck me, +which, I thought to myself, came doubtless from the cold wind. “It will +be the sweeter afterwards,” I added as gaily as I could. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said hurriedly. “But, Olaf, how white and thin you +are. I had hoped to find you well again, though, not knowing how it fared with +you, I came to see with my own eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is good of you,” I muttered as I turned to grasp +Steinar’s hand, adding: “I know well who it was that brought you +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay,” she said. “I came of myself. But my father waits +you, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +So I went to where the lord Athalbrand Fork-beard was dismounting, and greeted +him, lifting my cap. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” grumbled Athalbrand, who seemed to be in an ill temper, +“are you Olaf? I should scarcely have known you again, lad, for you look +more like a wisp of hay tied on a stick than a man. Now that the flesh is off +you I see you lack bone, unlike some others,” and he glanced at the +broad-shouldered Steinar. “Greeting to you, Thorvald. We are come here +through a sea that nearly drowned us, somewhat before the appointed time, +because—well, because, on the whole, I thought it best to come. I pray +Odin that you are more glad to see us than I am to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“If so, friend Athalbrand, why did you not stop away?” asked my +father, firing up, then adding quickly: “Nay, no offence; you are welcome +here, whatever your humour, and you too, my daughter that is to be, and you, +Steinar, my fosterling, who, as it chances, are come in a good hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“How’s that, Lord?” asked Steinar absently, for he was +looking at Iduna. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus, Steinar: These men”—and he pointed to the three +messengers—“have but just arrived from Agger with the news that +your father, Hakon, and your half-brothers are all drowned. They say also that +the folk of Agger have named you Hakon’s heir, as, indeed, you are by +right of blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” exclaimed Steinar, bewildered. “Well, as I +never saw my father or my brothers, and they treated me but ill, I cannot weep +for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hakon!” broke in Athalbrand. “Why, I knew him well, for in +my youth we were comrades in war. He was the wealthiest man in Jutland in +cattle, lands, thralls and stored gold. Young friend, your luck is +great,” and he stared first at Steinar, then at Iduna, pulling his forked +beard and muttering words to himself that I could not catch. +</p> + +<p> +“Steinar gets the fortune he deserves,” I exclaimed, embracing him. +“Not for nothing did I save you from the bear, Steinar. Come, wish my +foster-brother joy, Iduna.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, that I do with all my heart,” she said. “Joy and long +life to you, and with them rule and greatness, Steinar, Lord of Agger,” +and she curtsied to him, her blue eyes fixed upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +But Steinar turned away, making no answer. Only Ragnar, who stood by, burst +into a loud laugh. Then, putting his arm through mine, he led me into the hall, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“This wind is over cold for you, Olaf. Nay, trouble not about Iduna. +Steinar, Lord of Agger, will care for her, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +That night there was a feast at Aar, and I sat at it with Iduna by my side. +Beautiful she was indeed in her garment of blue, over which streamed her yellow +hair, bright as the gold rings that tinkled on her rounded arms. She was kind +to me also, and bade me tell her the story of the slaying of the bear, which I +did as best I could, though afterwards Ragnar told it otherwise, and more +fully. Only Steinar said little or nothing, for he seemed to be lost in dreams. +</p> + +<p> +I thought that this was because he felt sad at the news of the death of his +father and brethren, since, although he had never known them, blood still calls +to blood; and so, I believe, did most there present. At any rate my father and +mother tried to cheer him and in the end bade the men of Agger draw near to +tell him the tale of his heritage. +</p> + +<p> +They obeyed, and set out all their case, of which the sum was that Steinar must +now be one of the wealthiest and most powerful men of the northern lands. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that we should all take off our caps to you, young lord,” +said Athalbrand when he heard this tale of rule and riches. “Why did you +not ask me for my fair daughter?” he added with a half-drunken laugh, for +all the liquor he had swallowed had got a hold of his brain. Recovering +himself, he went on: “It is my will, Thorvald, that Iduna and this snipe +of an Olaf of yours should be wed as soon as possible. I say that they shall be +wed as soon as possible, since otherwise I know not what may happen.” +</p> + +<p> +Then his head fell forward on the table and he sank to sleep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III<br/> +THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE</h2> + +<p> +On the morrow early I lay awake, for how could I sleep when Iduna rested +beneath the same roof with me—Iduna, who, as her father had decreed, was +to become my wife sooner than I had hoped? I was thinking how beautiful she +looked, and how much I loved her; also of other things that were not so +pleasant. For instance, why did not everybody see her with my eyes? I could not +hide from myself that Ragnar went near to hating her; more than once she had +almost been the cause of a quarrel between us. Freydisa, too, my nurse, who +loved me, looked on her sourly, and even my mother, although she tried to like +her for my sake, had not yet learned to do so, or thus it appeared to me. +</p> + +<p> +When I asked her why, she replied that she feared the maid was somewhat +selfish, also too fond of drawing the eyes of men, and of the adornment of her +beauty. Of those who were dearest to me, indeed, only Steinar seemed to think +Iduna as perfect as I did myself. This, so far as it went, was well; but, then, +Steinar and I had always thought alike, which robbed his judgment of something +of its worth. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I was pondering over these things, although it was still so early that +my father and Athalbrand were yet in bed sleeping off the fumes of the liquor +they had drunk, I heard Steinar himself talking to the messengers from Agger in +the hall. They asked him humbly whether he would be pleased to return with them +that day and take possession of his inheritance, since they must get back +forthwith to Agger with their tidings. He replied that if they would send some +or come themselves to escort him on the tenth day from that on which they +spoke, he would go to Agger with them, but that until then he could not do so. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten days! In ten days who knows what may happen?” said their +spokesman. “Such a heritage as yours will not lack for claimants, Lord, +especially as Hakon has left nephews behind him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not what will or will not happen,” answered Steinar, +“but until then I cannot come. Go now, I pray you, if you must, and bear +my words and greetings to the men of Agger, whom soon I hope to meet +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went, as I thought, heavily enough. A while afterwards my father rose +and came into the hall, where from my bed I could see Steinar seated on a stool +by the fire brooding. He asked where the men of Agger were, and Steinar told +him what he had done. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad, Steinar?” he asked, “that you have sent them +away with such an answer? Why did you not consult me first?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you were asleep, Foster-father, and the messengers said they +must catch the tide. Also I could not leave Aar until I had seen Olaf and Iduna +married.” +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna and Olaf can marry without your help. It takes two to make a +marriage, not three. I see well that you owe love and loyalty to Olaf, who is +your foster-brother and saved your life, but you owe something to yourself +also. I pray Odin that this folly may not have cost you your lordship. Fortune +is a wench who will not bear slighting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” answered Steinar, and there was something strange in +his voice. “Believe me, I do not slight fortune; I follow her in my own +fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is a mad fashion,” grumbled my father, and walked away. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It comes back to me that it was some days after this that I saw the ghost of +the Wanderer standing on his grave mound. It happened thus. On a certain +afternoon I had been riding alone with Iduna, which was a great joy to me, +though I would sooner have walked, for then I could have held her hand, and +perhaps, if she had suffered it, kissed her. I had recited to her a poem which +I had made comparing her to the goddess Iduna, the wife of Bragi, she who +guarded the apples of immortal youth whereof the gods must eat or die, she +whose garment was the spring, woven of the flowers that she put on when she +escaped from winter’s giant grasp. I think that it was a very good poem +of its own sort, but Iduna seemed to have small taste for poetry and to know +little of the lovely goddess and her apples, although she smiled sweetly and +thanked me for my verses. +</p> + +<p> +Then she began to talk of other matters, especially of how, after we were wed, +her father wished to make war upon another chieftain and to seize his land. She +said that it was for this reason that he had been so anxious to form an +alliance with my father, Thorvald, as such an alliance would make him sure of +victory. Before that time, she told me that he, Athalbrand, had purposed to +marry her to another lord for this very reason, but unhappily this lord had +been killed in battle. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, happily for us, Iduna,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” she answered with a sigh. “Who knows? At any rate, +your House will be able to give us more ships and men than he who is dead could +have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I love peace, not war,” I broke in, “I who hate the +slaying of those who have never harmed me, and do not seek to die on the swords +of men whom I have no desire to harm. Of what good is war when one has enough? +I would be no widow-maker, Iduna, nor do I wish that others should make you a +widow.” +</p> + +<p> +Iduna looked at me with her steady blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You talk strangely, Olaf,” she said, “and were it not known +to be otherwise, some might hold that you are a coward. Yet it was no coward +who leapt alone on board the battle ship, or who slew the great white bear to +save Steinar’s life. I do not understand you, Olaf, you who have doubts +as to the killing of men. How does a man grow great except upon the blood of +others? It is that which fats him. How does the wolf live? How does the kite +live? How does Odin fill Valhalla? By death, always by death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot answer you,” I said; “yet I hold that somewhere +there is an answer which I do not know, since wrong can never be the +right.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as she did not seem to understand, I began to talk of other things, but +from that moment I felt as though a veil swung between me and Iduna. Her beauty +held my flesh, but some other part in me turned away from her. We were +different. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached the hall we met Steinar, who was lingering near the door. He +ran forward and helped Iduna to dismount, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I know that you must not overtire yourself as yet, but your lady +has told me that she desires to see the sunset from Odin’s Mount. Have I +your leave to take her there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not yet need Olaf’s leave to walk abroad, though some few +days hence it may be different,” broke in Iduna, with a merry laugh, +before I could answer. “Come, lord Steinar, let us go and see this sunset +whereof you talk so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, go,” I said, “only do not stay too long, for I think a +storm comes up. But who is that has taught Steinar to love sunsets?” +</p> + +<p> +So they went, and before they had been gone an hour the storm broke as I had +foreseen. First came wind, and with it hail, and after that thunder and great +darkness, lit up from time to time by pulsing lightning. +</p> + +<p> +“Steinar and Iduna do not return. I am afraid for them,” I said at +last to Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do you not go to seek them?” she asked with a little +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I will,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“If so, I will come with you, Olaf, for you still need a nurse, though, +for my part, I hold that the lord Steinar and the lady Iduna can guard +themselves as well as most folk. No, I am wrong. I mean that the lady Iduna can +guard herself and the lord Steinar. Now, be not angry. Here’s your +cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +So we started, for I was urged to this foolish journey by some impulse that I +could not master. There were two ways of reaching Odin’s Mount; one, the +shorter, over the rocks and through the forest land. The other, the longer, ran +across the open plain, between the many earth tombs of the dead who had lived +thousands of years before, and past the great mound in which it was said that a +warrior of long ago, who was named the Wanderer, lay buried. Because of the +darkness we chose this latter road, and presently found ourselves beneath the +great mass of the Wanderer’s Mount. Now the darkness was intense, and the +lightning grew rare, for the hail and rain had ceased and the storm was rolling +away. +</p> + +<p> +“My counsel is,” said Freydisa, “that we wait here until the +moon rises, which it should do soon. When the wind has driven away the clouds +it will show us our path, but if we go on in this darkness we shall fall into +some pit. It is not cold to-night, and you will take no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed,” I answered, “for now I am as strong again as +ever I was.” +</p> + +<p> +So we stayed till the lightning, flashing for the last time, showed us a man +and a woman standing quite close to us, although we had not heard them because +of the wind. They were Steinar and Iduna, talking together eagerly, with their +faces very near to each other. At the same moment they saw us. Steinar said +nothing, for he seemed confused, but Iduna ran to us and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks be to the gods who send you, Olaf. The great storm caught us at +Odin’s temple, where we were forced to shelter. Then, fearing that you +would grow frightened, we started, and lost our way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so?” I answered. “Surely Steinar would have known this +road even in the dark. But what matter, since I have found you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, he knew as soon as we saw this grave mound. But Steinar was telling +me that some ghost haunts it, and I begged him to stay awhile, since there is +nothing I desire so much as to see a ghost, who believe little in such things. +So he stayed, though he says he fears the dead more than the living. Freydisa, +they tell me that you are very wise. Cannot you show me this ghost?” +</p> + +<p> +“The spirit does not ask my leave to appear, lady,” answered +Freydisa in her quiet voice. “Still, at times it does appear, for I have +seen it twice. So let us bide here a little on the chance.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she went forward a few steps and began to mutter to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Some minutes later the clouds broke and the great moon was seen riding low down +in a clear sky, illumining the grave mound and all the plain, save where we +stood in the shadow of the mount. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see aught?” asked Freydisa presently. “If not, let us +be gone, for when the Wanderer comes at all it is at the rising of the +moon.” +</p> + +<p> +Steinar and Iduna answered, “No,” but I, who did see something, +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Look yonder among the shadows. Mayhap it is a wolf stirring. Nay, it is +a man. Look, Iduna.” +</p> + +<p> +“I look and find nothing,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Look again,” I said. “He reaches the top of the mount and +stands there staring towards the south. Oh! now he turns, and the moonlight +shines upon his face.” +</p> + +<p> +“You dream, Olaf,” said Steinar. “If you do not dream, tell +us of the likeness of this spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Its likeness,” I answered, “is that of a tall and noble man, +worn as though with years and sorrows. He wears strange rich armour that is +dinted and soiled; on his head is a cap of mail with two long ear-pieces, +beneath which appears his brown hair lined with grey. He holds a red-coloured +sword which is handled with a cross of gold. He points the sword at you, +Steinar. It is as though he were angry with you, or warned you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, when Steinar heard these words he shook and groaned, as I remembered +afterwards. But of this I took no note at the time, for just then Iduna cried +out: +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Olaf, does the man wear a necklace? I see a necklace hanging in the +air above the mount, but naught else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Iduna, he wears a necklace above his mail. How does it appear to +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, beautiful, beautiful!” she answered. “A chain of pale +gold, and hanging from it golden shells inlaid with blue, and between them +green jewels that hold the moon.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I see also,” I said, as indeed I did. “There! +All is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Freydisa returned and there was a strange smile on her dark face, for she had +heard all our talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Who sleeps in that mound, Freydisa?” asked Iduna. +</p> + +<p> +“How can I tell, Lady, seeing that he was laid there a thousand years +ago, or mayhap more? Yet a story, true or false, remains of him that I have +heard. It is that he was a king of these parts, who followed a dream to the +south. The dream was of a necklace, and of one who wore it. For many years he +wandered, and at length returned again to this place, which had been his home, +wearing the necklace. But when he saw its shore from the sea he fell down and +his spirit left him. What happened to him in his wanderings none know, for the +tale is lost. Only it is said that his people buried him in yonder mound still +wearing his armour and the necklace he had won. There, as Olaf has seen, or +thinks that he has seen but now, he stands at moonrise ere trouble comes to any +of his race, and stares towards the south—always towards the +south.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the necklace yet in the mound?” asked Iduna eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt, Lady. Who would dare to touch the holy thing and bring on +him the curse of the Wanderer and his gods, and with it his own death? No man +that ever sailed the seas, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Freydisa, for I am sure I know one who would dare it for my +sake. Olaf, if you love me, bring me that necklace as a marriage gift. I tell +you that, having once seen it, I want it more than anything in all the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear what Freydisa said?” I asked. “That he who +wrought this sacrilege would bring upon himself evil and death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I heard; but it is folly, for who need fear dead bones? As for the +shape you saw, why, it is strengthless for good or ill, a shadow drawn from +what has been by the magic moon, or perchance by Freydisa’s witchery. +Olaf, Olaf, get me that necklace or I will never kiss you more.” +</p> + +<p> +“That means you will not marry me, Iduna?” +</p> + +<p> +“That means I will only marry the man who gives me that necklace. If you +fear the deed, perhaps there are some others by whom it might be tried.” +</p> + +<p> +Now when I heard these words a sudden rage seized me. Was I to be taunted thus +by the fair woman whom I loved? +</p> + +<p> +“Fear is an ill word to use to me,” I said sternly. “Know, +Iduna, that if it is put to me thus I fear nothing in life or death. You shall +have the necklace if it can be found in yonder earth, chance what may to the +searcher. Nay, no more words. Steinar will lead you home; I must talk of this +matter with Freydisa.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was midnight, I know not on what day, since all these things come back to me +in vivid scenes, as flashes of lightning show a landscape, but are separated +from each other by dense darkness. Freydisa and I stood by the Wanderer’s +grave, and at our feet lay digging tools, two lamps, and tinder to light them. +We were setting about our grim task at dead of night, for fear lest the priests +should stay us. Also, I did not wish the people to know that I had done this +thing. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is work for a month,” I said doubtfully, looking up at the +great mass of the mound. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” replied Freydisa, “since I can show you the door of +the grave, and perchance the passage still stands. Yet, will you really enter +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, Freydisa? Must I bear to be taunted by the woman I am to wed? +Surely it would be better to die and have done. Let the ghost slay me if he +will. It comes upon me that if so I shall be spared trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“No bridegroom’s talk,” said Freydisa, “however true it +may be. Yet, young Olaf, do you take heart, since I think that this ghost has +no desire for your blood. I am wise in my own fashion, Olaf, and much of the +past comes to me, if little of the future, and I believe that this Wanderer and +you have more to do with each other than we can guess. It may be even that this +task is appointed to you and that all these happenings, which are but begun, +work to an end unseen. At the least, try your fortune, and if you +die—why, I who was your nurse from your mother’s knee, love you +well enough to die with you. Together we’ll descend to Hela’s +halls, there to seek out the Wanderer and learn his story.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, throwing her arms about my neck, she drew me to her and kissed me on the +brow. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not your mother, Olaf,” she went on, “but, to be +honest, I would have been could I have had my fancy though, strangely enough, I +never felt thus towards Ragnar, your brother. Now, why do you make me talk +foolishness? Come hither, and I will show you the entrance to the grave; it is +where the sun first strikes upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she led me to the east of the mound, where, not more than eight or ten +feet from its base, grew a patch of bushes. Among these bushes was a little +hollow, as though at this spot the earth had sunk in. Here, at her bidding, I +began to dig, and with her help worked for the half of an hour or more in +silence, till at length my spade struck against a stone. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the door-stone,” said Freydisa. “Dig round it.” +</p> + +<p> +So I dug till I made a hole at the edge of the stone large enough for a man to +creep through. After this we paused to rest a while and to allow the air within +the mound to purify. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she said, “if you are not afraid, we will +enter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” I answered. Indeed, the terror which struck me then +returns, so that even as I write I feel fear of the dead man who lay, and for +aught I know still lies, within that grave. “Yet,” I added, +“never will I face Iduna more without the necklace, if it can be +found.” +</p> + +<p> +So we struck sparks on to the tinder, and from them lit the two lamps of seal +oil. Then I crept into the hole, Freydisa following me, to find myself in a +narrow passage built of rough stones and roofed with flat slabs of water-worn +rock. This tunnel, save for a little dry soil that had sifted into it through +the cracks between the stones, was quite clear. We crawled along it without +difficulty till we came to the tomb chamber, which was in the centre of the +mound, but at a higher level than the entrance. For the passage sloped upwards, +doubtless to allow for drainage. The huge stones with which it was lined and +roofed over, were not less than ten feet high and set on end side by side. One +of these upright stones was that designed for the door. Had it been in place, +we could not have entered the chamber without great labour and the help of many +men; but, as it chanced, either it had never been set up after the burial, or +this was done so hastily that it had fallen. +</p> + +<p> +“We are in luck’s way,” said Freydisa, when she noticed this. +“No, I will go first, who know more of ghosts than you do, Olaf. If the +Wanderer strikes, let him strike me,” and she clambered over the fallen +slab. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she called back, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Come; all is quiet here, as it should be in such a place.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed her, and sliding down the end of the stone—which I remember +scratched my elbow and made it bleed—found myself in a little room about +twelve feet square. In this place there was but one thing to be seen: what +appeared to be the trunk of a great oak tree, some nine feet in length, and, +standing on it, side by side, two figures of bronze under a foot in height. +</p> + +<p> +“The coffin in which the Wanderer lies and the gods he worshipped,” +said Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +Then she took up first one and next the other of the bronze figures and we +examined them in the light of the lamps, although I feared to touch them. They +were statues of a man and a woman. +</p> + +<p> +The man, who wore a long and formal beard, was wrapped in what seemed to be a +shroud, through an opening in which appeared his hands. In the right hand was a +scourge with a handle, and in the left a crook such as a shepherd might use, +only shorter. On his head was what I took to be a helmet, a tall peaked cap +ending in a knob, having on either side of it a stiff feather of bronze, and in +front, above the forehead, a snake, also of bronze. +</p> + +<p> +The woman was clad in a straight and narrow robe, cut low beneath her breast. +Her face was mild and beautiful, and in her right hand she held a looped +sceptre. Her hair descended in many long plaits on to her shoulders. For +head-dress she wore two horns, supporting between them a burnished disc of gold +like to that of the moon when it is full. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange gods!” I muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” answered Freydisa, “yet maybe true ones to those who +worship them. But we will talk of these later; now for their servant.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she dropped the figures into a pouch at her side, and began to examine the +trunk of the oak tree, of which the outer sap wood had been turned to tinder by +age, leaving the heart still hard as iron. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” she said, pointing to a line about four inches from the top, +“the tree has been sawn in two length-ways and the lid laid on. Come, +help.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she took an iron-shod staff which we had brought with us, and worked its +sharp point into the crack, after which we both rested our weight upon the +staff. The lid of the coffin lifted quite easily, for it was not pegged down, +and slid of its own weight over the side of the tree. In the cavity beneath was +a form covered with a purple cloak stained as though by salt water. Freydisa +lifted the cloak, and there lay the Wanderer as he had been placed a thousand +or more of years before our time, as perfect as he had been in the hour of his +death, for the tannin from the new-felled tree in which he was buried had +preserved him. +</p> + +<p> +Breathless with wonder, we bent down and examined him by the light of the +lamps. He was a tall, spare man, to all appearance of between fifty and sixty +years of age. His face was thin and fine; he wore a short, grizzled beard; his +hair, so far as it could be seen beneath his helmet, was brown and lightly +tinged with grey. +</p> + +<p> +“Does he call anyone to your mind?” asked Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think so, a little,” I replied. “Who is it, now? Oh! +I know, my mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is strange, Olaf, since to me he seems much like what you might +become should you live to his years. Yet it was through your mother’s +line that Aar came to your race many generations gone, for this much is known. +Well, study him hard, for, look you, now that the air has got to him, he melts +away.” +</p> + +<p> +Melt he did, indeed, till presently there was nothing left save a skull patched +here and there with skin and hair. Yet I never forgot that face; indeed, to +this hour I see it quite clearly. When at length it had crumbled, we turned to +other things, knowing that our time in the grave must be measured by the oil in +the simple lamps we had. Freydisa lifted a cloth from beneath the chin, +revealing a dinted breastplate of rich armour, different from any of our day +and land, and, lying on it, such a necklace as we had seen upon the ghost, a +beauteous thing of inlaid golden shells and emerald stones shaped like beetles. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it for your Iduna,” said Freydisa, “since it is for her +sake that we break in upon this great man’s rest.” +</p> + +<p> +I seized the precious thing and tugged at it, but the chain was stout and would +not part. Again I tugged, and now it was the neck of the Wanderer that broke, +for the head rolled from the body, and the gold chain came loose between the +two. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us be going,” said Freydisa, as I hid away the necklace. +“The oil in the lamps burns low, and even I do not care to be left here +in the dark with this mighty one whom we have robbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s his armour,” I said. “I’d have that +armour; it is wonderful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then stop and get it by yourself,” she answered, “for my +lamp dies.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, I will take the sword,” I exclaimed, and snatched at the +belt by which it was girt about the body. The leather had rotted, and it came +away in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +Holding it, I clambered over the stone after Freydisa, and followed her down +the passage. Before we reached the end of it the lamps went out, so that we +must finish our journey in the dark. Thankful enough were both of us when we +found ourselves safe in the open air beneath the familiar stars. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, how comes it, Freydisa,” I asked, when we had got our breath +again, “that this Wanderer, who showed himself so threateningly upon the +crest of his grave, lies patient as a dead sheep within it while we rob his +bones?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because we were meant to take it, as I think, Olaf. Now, help me to fill +in the mouth of that hole roughly—I will return to finish this +to-morrow—and let us away to the hall. I am weary, and I tell you, Olaf, +that the weight of things to come lies heavy on my soul. I think wisdom dwells +with that Wanderer’s bones. Yes, and foresight of the future and memories +of the past.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV<br/> +IDUNA WEARS THE NECKLACE</h2> + +<p> +I lay sleeping in my bed at Aar, the sword of the Wanderer by my side and his +necklace beneath my pillow. In my sleep there came to me a very strange and +vivid dream. I dreamed that I was the Wanderer, no other man, and here I, who +write this history in these modern days, will say that the dream was true. +</p> + +<p> +Once in the far past I, who afterwards was born as Olaf, and who am +now—well, never mind my name—lived in the shape of that man who in +Olaf’s time was by tradition known as the Wanderer. Of that Wanderer +life, however, for some reason which I cannot explain, I am able to recover but +few memories. Other earlier lives come back to me much more clearly, but at +present the details of this particular existence escape me. For the purpose of +the history which I am setting down this matters little, since, although I know +enough to be sure that the persons concerned in the Olaf life were for the most +part the same as those concerned in the Wanderer life, their stories remain +quite distinct. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, I propose to leave that of the Wanderer, so far as I know it, +untold, wild and romantic as it seems to have been. For he must have been a +great man, this Wanderer, who in the early ages of the northern world, drawn by +the magnet of some previous Egyptian incarnation, broke back to those southern +lands with which his informing spirit was already so familiar, and thence won +home again to the place where he was born, only to die. In considering this +dream which Olaf dreamed, let it be remembered, then, that although a thousand, +or maybe fifteen hundred, of our earthly years separated us from each other, +the Wanderer, into whose tomb I broke at the goading of Iduna, and I, Olaf, +were really the same being clothed in different shapes of flesh. +</p> + +<p> +To return to my dream. I, Olaf, or, rather, my spirit, dwelling in the +Wanderer’s body, that body which I had just seen lying in the grave, +stood at night in a great columned building, which I knew to be the temple of +some god. At my feet lay a basin of clear water; the moonlight, which was +almost as bright as that of day, showed me my reflection in the water. It was +like to that of the Wanderer as I had seen him lying in his oak coffin in the +mound, only younger than he had seemed to be in the coffin. Moreover, he wore +the same armour that the man in the coffin wore, and at his side hung the red, +cross-handled sword. There he stood in the temple alone, and looked across a +plain, green with crops, on which sat two mighty images as high as tall pines, +looked to a great river on whose banks grew trees such as I had never beheld: +tall, straight trees, surmounted by a stiff crown of leaves. Beyond this river +lay a white, flat-roofed city, and in it were other great columned temples. +</p> + +<p> +The man in whom I, Olaf the Dane, seemed to dwell in my dream turned, and +behind him saw a range of naked hills of brown rock, and in them the mouth of a +desolate valley where was no green thing. Presently he became aware that he was +no longer alone. At his side stood a woman. She was a very beautiful woman, +unlike anyone I, Olaf, had ever seen. Her shape was tall and slender, her eyes +were large, dark and soft as a deer’s, her features were small and +straight, save the mouth, of which the lips were somewhat full. The face, which +was dark-hued, like her hair and eyes, was sad, but wore a sweet and haunting +smile. It was much such a face as that upon the statue of the goddess which we +had found in the Wanderer’s tomb, and the dress she wore beneath her +cloak was like to the dress of the goddess. She was speaking earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“My love, my only love,” she said, “you must begone this very +night; indeed, the boat awaits you that shall take you down the river to the +sea. All is discovered. My waiting-lady, the priestess, but now has told me +that my father, the king, purposes to seize and throw you into prison +to-morrow, and thereafter to put you on your trial for being beloved by a +daughter of the royal blood, of which, as you are a foreign man, however noble +you may be, the punishment is death. Moreover, if you are condemned, your doom +will be my own. There is but one way in which to save my life, and that is by +your flight, for if you fly it has been whispered to me that all will be +forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, in my dream, he who wore the Wanderer’s shape reasoned with her, +saying at length that it was better they both should die, to live on in the +world of spirits, rather than part for ever. She hid her face on his breast and +answered, +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot die. I would stay to look upon the sun, not for my own sake, +but because of our child that will be born. Nor can I fly with you, since then +your boat will be stopped. But if you go alone, the guards will let it pass. +They have their commands.” +</p> + +<p> +After this for a while they wept in each other’s arms, for their hearts +were broken. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me some token,” he murmured; “let me wear something +that you have worn until my death.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her cloak, and there upon her breast hung that necklace which had +lain upon the breast of the Wanderer in his tomb, the necklace of gold and +inlaid shells and emerald beetles, only there were two rows of shells and +emeralds, not one. One row she unclasped and clasped it again round his neck, +breaking the little gold threads that bound the two strands together. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this,” she said, “and I will wear the half which is +left of it even in my grave, as you also shall wear your half in life and +death. Now something comes upon me. It is that when the severed parts of this +necklace are once more joined together, then we two shall meet again upon the +earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“What chance is there that I shall return from my northern home, if ever +I win so far, back to this southern land?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” she answered. “In this life we shall kiss no more. +Yet there are other lives to come, or so I think and have learned through the +wisdom of my people. Begone, begone, ere my heart breaks on yours; but never +let this necklace of mine, which was that of those who were long before me, lie +upon another woman’s breast, for if so it will bring sorrow to the giver, +and to her to whom it is given no good fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long must I wait before we meet again?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, but I think that when all that jewel once more grows warm +above my immoral heart, this temple which they call eternal will be but a +time-eaten ruin. Hark, the priestess calls. Farewell, you man who have come out +of the north to be my glory and my shame. Farewell, until the purpose of our +lives declares itself and the seed that we have sown in sorrow shall blossom +into an everlasting flower. Farewell. Farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +Then a woman appeared in the background beckoning, and all my dream vanished +away. Yet to my mind came the thought that it was to the lady who gave the +necklace that Death stood near, rather than to him to whom it was given. For +surely death was written in her sad and longing eyes. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +So that dream ended. When I, Olaf, awoke in the morning, it was to find that +already everyone was astir, for I had overslept myself. In the hall were +gathered Ragnar, Steinar, Iduna and Freydisa; the elders were talking together +elsewhere on the subject of the forthcoming marriage. I went to Iduna to +embrace her, and she proffered me her cheek, speaking all the while over her +shoulder to Ragnar. +</p> + +<p> +“Where were you last night, brother, that you came in near the dawn, all +covered with mud?” asked Ragnar, turning his back on Iduna, without +making any answer to her words. +</p> + +<p> +“Digging in the Wanderer’s grave, brother, as Iduna challenged me +to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Now all three of them turned on me eagerly, save Freydisa, who stood by the +fire listening, and with one voice asked if I had found anything. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” I replied. “I found the Wanderer, a very noble-looking +man,” and I began to describe him. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to this dead Wanderer,” broke in Iduna. “Did you find +the necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I found the necklace. Here it is!” And I laid the splendid +thing upon the board. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly I lost my speech, since now for the first time I saw that, +twisted round the chain of it, were three broken wires of gold. I remembered +how in my dream I had seen the beautiful woman break such wires ere she gave +half of the jewel to the man in whose breast I had seemed to dwell, and for a +moment grew so frightened that I could say no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Iduna, “it is beautiful, beautiful! Oh! Olaf, +I thank you,” and she flung her arms about me and kissed me, this time in +earnest. +</p> + +<p> +Then she seized the necklace and fastened it round her throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay,” I said, awaking. “I think you had best not touch +those gems. Iduna, I have dreamed that they will bring no luck to you or to any +woman, save one.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the dark-faced Freydisa looked up at me, then dropped her eyes again, and +stood listening. +</p> + +<p> +“You have dreamed!” exclaimed Iduna. “I care little what you +have dreamed. It is for the necklace I care, and not all the ill-luck in the +world shall stay me from the keeping of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Here again Freydisa looked up, but Steinar looked down. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you find aught else?” asked Ragnar, interrupting. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, brother, this!” and from under my cloak I produced the +Wanderer’s sword. +</p> + +<p> +“A wondrous weapon,” said Ragnar when he had examined it, +“though somewhat heavy for its length, and of bronze, after the fashion +of those that are buried in the grave mounds. It has seen much wear also, and, +I should say, has loosed many a spirit. Look at the gold work of the handle. +Truly a wondrous weapon, worth all the necklaces in the world. But tell us your +story.” +</p> + +<p> +So I told them, and when I came to the images that we had found standing on the +coffin, Iduna, who was paying little heed, stopped from her fondling of the +necklace and asked where they were. +</p> + +<p> +“Freydisa has them,” I answered. “Show them the +Wanderer’s gods, Freydisa.” +</p> + +<p> +“So Freydisa was with you, was she?” said Iduna. +</p> + +<p> +Then she glanced at the gods, laughed a little at their fashion and raiment, +and again fell to fingering the necklace, which was more to her than any gods. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards Freydisa asked me what was the dream of which I had spoken, and I +told it to her, every word. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a strange story,” said Freydisa. “What do you make of +it, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing save that it was a dream. And yet those three broken wires that +are twisted round the chain, which I had never noted till I saw the necklace in +Iduna’s hand! They fit well with my dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Olaf, and the dream fits well with other things. Have you ever +heard, Olaf, that there are those who say that men live more than once upon +this earth?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, laughing. “Yet why should they not do so, +as they live at all? If so, perhaps I am that Wanderer, in whose body I seemed +to be, only then I am sure that the lady with the golden shells was not +Iduna.” And again I laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Olaf, she was not Iduna, though perchance there was an Iduna, all +the same. Tell me, did you see aught of that priestess who was with the +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that she was tall and dark, one of middle age. But why waste words +on this midnight madness? Yet that royal woman haunts me. I would that I could +see her again, if only in a dream. Also, Freydisa, I would that Iduna had not +taken the necklace. I fear lest it should bring misfortune. Where is she now? I +will tell her again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wandering with Steinar, I think, and wearing the necklace. Oh! Olaf, +like you I fear it will bring woe. I cannot read your dream—as +yet.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was the day before that of my marriage. I see them moving about, the shapes +of all those long-forgotten men and women, arrayed in their bravest garments +and rude ornaments of gold and silver, for a great company had been bidden, +many of whom came from far. I see my uncle, Leif, the dark-browed priest of +Odin, passing between the hall and the temple where on the morrow he must +celebrate the marriage rites in such a fashion as would do honour to the god. I +see Iduna, Athalbrand and Steinar talking together apart. I see myself watching +all this life and stir like one who is mazed, and I know that since I had +entered the Wanderer’s grave all things had seemed unreal to me. Iduna, +whom I loved, was about to become my wife, and yet between me and Iduna +continually was thrust a vision of the woman of my dream. At times I thought +that the blow from the bear’s paw had hurt my brain; that I must be going +mad. I prayed to the gods that this might not be so, and when my prayers +availed me nothing I sought the counsel of Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +She listened to my story, then said briefly, +</p> + +<p> +“Let be. Things will go as they are fated. You are no madder than the +rest of men. I can say no more.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the custom of that time and land that, if possible, the wife to be +should not pass the night before her marriage under the same roof as her future +husband. Therefore Athalbrand, whose mood had been strange of late, went with +Iduna to sleep in his beached ship. At my request Steinar went with them, in +order that he might see that they were brought back in good time in the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +“You will not fail me in this, Steinar?” I said, clasping his hand. +</p> + +<p> +He tried to answer something, but the words seemed to choke in his throat and +he turned away, leaving them unspoken. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” I exclaimed, “one might think you were going to be +married, not I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” broke in Iduna hurriedly. “The truth is that Steinar +is jealous of me. How is it that you can make us all love you so much, +Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would that I were more worthy of your love,” I answered, smiling, +“as in years to come I hope to show myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Athalbrand, who was watching, tugged at his forked beard and muttered something +that sounded like an oath. Then he rode off, kicking his horse savagely and not +noting my outstretched hand, or so it seemed. Of this, however, I took little +heed, for I was engaged in kissing Iduna in farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not sad,” she said, as she kissed me back on the lips. +“Remember that we part for the last time.” Again she kissed me and +went, laughing happily. +</p> + +<p> +The morning came. All was prepared. From far and near the guests were gathered, +waiting to do honour to the marriage feast. Even some of the men of Agger were +there, who had come to pay homage to their new lord. The spring sun shone +brightly, as it should upon a marriage morn, and without the doors the +trumpeters blew blasts with their curved horns. In the temple the altar of Odin +was decorated with flowers, and by it, also decorated with flowers, the +offering awaited sacrifice. My mother, in her finest robe, the same, in truth, +in which she herself had been wed, stood by the door of the hall, which was +cleared of kine and set with tables, giving and returning greetings. Her arm +was round me, who, as bridegroom, was clothed in new garments of woven wool +through which ran a purple streak, the best that could be made in all the land. +Ragnar came up. +</p> + +<p> +“They should be here,” he said. “The hour is over +past.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless the fair bride has been long in decking herself,” +answered my father, looking at the sun. “She will come presently.” +</p> + +<p> +Still time went on, and the company began to murmur, while a strange, cold fear +seemed to grip my heart. At length a man was seen riding towards the hall, and +one cried, +</p> + +<p> +“At last! Here comes the herald!” +</p> + +<p> +Another answered: “For a messenger of love he rides slowly and +sadly.” And a silence fell on all that heard him. +</p> + +<p> +The man, a stranger to us, arrived and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I have a message for the lord Thorvald from the lord Athalbrand, which I +was charged to deliver at this hour, neither before nor after. It is that he +sailed for Lesso at the rising of the moon last night, there purposing to +celebrate the marriage of his daughter, the lady Iduna, with Steinar, lord of +Agger, and is therefore grieved that he and the lady Iduna cannot be present at +your feast this day.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, when I heard these words I felt as though a spear had been thrust through +me. “Steinar! Oh! surely not with my brother Steinar,” I gasped, +and staggered against the door-post, where I stood like one who has been struck +helpless. +</p> + +<p> +Ragnar sprang at the messenger, and, dragging him from his horse, would have +killed him had not some stayed his hand. My father, Thorvald, remained silent, +but his half-brother, the dark-browed priest of Odin, lifted his hands to +heaven and called down the curse of Odin upon the troth-breakers. The company +drew swords and shouted for vengeance, demanding to be led against the false +Athalbrand. At length my father called for silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Athalbrand is a man without shame,” he said. “Steinar is a +viper whom I have nursed in my breast, a viper that has bitten the hand which +saved him from death; aye, you men of Agger, you have a viper for your lord. +Iduna is a light-of-love upon whom all honest women should spit, who has broken +her oath and sold herself for Steinar’s wealth and rule. I swear by Thor +that, with your help, my friends and neighbours, I will be avenged upon all +three of these. But for such vengeance preparations must be made, since +Athalbrand and Steinar are strong. Moreover, they lie in an island, and can +only be attacked by sea. Further, there is no haste, since the mischief is +done, and by now Steinar the Snake and Iduna the Light-of-love will have drunk +their marriage-cup. Come, eat, my friends, and not too sadly, seeing that if my +house has suffered shame, it has escaped worse shame, that of welcoming a false +woman as a bride of one of us. Doubtless, when his bitterness is past, Olaf, my +son, will find a better wife.” +</p> + +<p> +So they sat down and ate the marriage feast. Only the seats of the bride and +bridegroom were empty, for I could not take part in that feast, but went alone +to my sleeping-place and drew the curtains. My mother also was so overcome that +she departed to her own chamber. Alone I sat upon my bed and listened to the +sounds of that marriage feast, which more resembled such a one as is given at +funerals. When it was finished I heard my father and Ragnar and the head men +and chiefs of the company take counsel together, after which all departed to +their homes. +</p> + +<p> +So soon as they were gone Freydisa came to me, bringing food and drink. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a shamed man, Freydisa,” I said, “and can no longer +stay in this land where I have been made one for children to mock at.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not you who are shamed,” answered Freydisa hotly. “It +is Steinar and that——,” and she used a harsh word of Iduna. +“Oh! I saw it coming, and yet I dared not warn you. I feared lest I might +be wrong and put doubts into your heart against your foster-brother and your +wife without cause. May Odin destroy them both!” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak not so roughly, Freydisa,” I said. “Ragnar was right +about Iduna. Her beauty never blinded him as it did me, and he read her truly. +Well, she did but follow her nature; and as for Steinar, she fooled him as she +has the power to do by any man, save Ragnar. Doubtless he will repent bitterly +ere all is done. Also I think that necklace from the grave is an evil +magic.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is like you, Olaf, to find excuse even for sin that cannot be +forgiven. Not but what I hold with you that Steinar has been led away against +his will, for I read it in his face. Well, his life must pay the price of it, +for surely he shall bleed on Odin’s altar. Now, be a man. Come out and +face your trouble. You are not the first that a woman has fooled, nor will you +be the last. Forget love and dream of vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot forget love, and I do not wish for vengeance, especially +against Steinar, who is my foster-brother,” I answered wearily. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V<br/> +THE BATTLE ON THE SEA</h2> + +<p> +On the morrow Thorvald, my father, sent messengers to the head men of Agger, +telling them of all that he and his House had suffered at the hands of Steinar, +whereof those of their folk who had been present at the feast could bear +witness. He added that if they stood by Steinar in his wickedness and +treachery, thenceforward he and the men of the North would be their foes and +work them mischief by land and sea. +</p> + +<p> +In due course these messengers returned with the tale that the head men of +Agger had met together and deposed Steinar from his lordship over them, +electing another man, a nephew of Steinar’s father. Also they sent a +present of gold rings in atonement for the wrong which had been done to the +house of Thorvald by one of their blood, and prayed that Thorvald and the +northern men would bear them no ill will for that in which they were blameless. +</p> + +<p> +Cheered by this answer, which halved the number of their foes, my father, +Thorvald of Aar, and those Over-men of whom he was the High-lord, began to make +their preparations to attack Athalbrand on his Island of Lesso. Of all these +things Athalbrand learned by his spies, and later, when the warships were being +prepared and manned, two messengers came from him, old men of repute, and +demanded to see my father. This was the substance of his message, which was +delivered in my hearing. +</p> + +<p> +That he, Athalbrand, was little to blame for what had happened, which was due +to the mad passions of two young people who had blinded and misled him. That no +marriage had taken place between Steinar and his daughter, Iduna, as he was +prepared and able to prove, since he had refused to allow any such marriage. +That, therefore, he was ready to outlaw Steinar, who only dwelt with him as an +unwelcome guest, and to return his daughter, Iduna, to me, Olaf, and with her a +fine in gold rings as compensation for the wrong done, of which the amount was +to be ascertained by judges to be agreed upon. +</p> + +<p> +My father entertained the messengers, but would give them no answer till he had +summoned a council of the Under-lords who stood with him in this business. At +that council, where I was present, some said that the insult could only be +washed out with blood. At length I was called upon to speak as the man most +concerned. While all listened I rose and said: +</p> + +<p> +“These are my words. After what has chanced, not for all the wealth in +Denmark would I take Iduna the Fair to be my wife. Let her stay with Steinar, +whom she has chosen. Still, I do not wish to cause the blood of innocent men to +be spent because of my private wrong. Neither do I wish to wreak vengeance upon +Steinar, who for many years was my brother, and who has been led away by a +woman, as may chance to any one of us and has chanced to many. Therefore I say +that my father should accept Athalbrand’s fine in satisfaction of the +insult to our House, and let all this matter be forgotten. As for myself, I +purpose to leave my home, where I have been put to shame, and to seek my +fortune in other lands.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, the most of those present thought this a wise saying and were ready to +abide by it. Yet, unluckily enough, it was made of no account by what had +slipped from my lips at its end. Although many held me strange and fey, all men +loved me because I had a kind heart and gentleness, also because of the wrongs +that I had suffered and for something which they saw in me, which they believed +would one day make of me a great skald and a wise leader. When she heard me +announce thus publicly that I was determined to leave them, Thora, my mother, +whispered in the ears of Thorvald, my father, and Ragnar and others also said +to each other that this might not be. It was Ragnar, the headlong, who sprang +up and spoke the first. +</p> + +<p> +“Is my brother to be driven from us and his home like a thrall caught in +theft because a traitor and a false woman have put him to shame?” he +said. “I say that I ask Athalbrand’s blood to wash away that stain, +not his gold, and that if need be I will seek it alone and die upon his spears. +Also I say that if Olaf, my brother, turns his back upon this vengeance, I name +him niddering.” +</p> + +<p> +“No man shall name me that,” I said, flushing, “and least of +all Ragnar.” +</p> + +<p> +So, amidst shouts, for there had been long peace in the land, and all the +fighting men sighed for battle, it was agreed that war should be declared on +Athalbrand, those present pledging themselves and their dependents to follow it +to the end. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back to the troth-breaker, Athalbrand,” said my father to the +messengers. “Tell him that we will not accept his fine of gold, who come +to take all his wealth, and with it his land and his life. Tell him also that +the young lord Olaf refuses his daughter, Iduna, since it has not been the +fashion of our House to wed with drabs. Tell Steinar, the woman-thief, that he +would do well to slay himself, or to be sure that he is killed in battle, since +if we take him living he shall be cast into a pit of vipers or sacrificed to +Odin, the god of honour. Begone!” +</p> + +<p> +“We go,” answered the spokesman of the messengers; “yet +before we go, Thorvald, we would say to you that you and your folk are mad. +Some wrong has been done to your son, though perhaps not so much as you may +think. For that wrong full atonement has been offered, and with it the hand of +friendship on which you spit. Know then that the mighty lord Athalbrand does +not fear war, since for every man you can gather he numbers two, all pledged to +him until the death. Also he has consulted the oracle, and its answer is that +if you fight with him, but one of your House will be left living.” +</p> + +<p> +“Begone!” thundered my father, “lest presently you should +stay here dead.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +That day my heart was very heavy, and I sought Freydisa to take counsel with +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Trouble hovers over me like a croaking raven,” I said. “I do +not like this war for a woman who is worth nothing, although she has hurt me +sorely. I fear the future, that it may prove even worse than the past has +been.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then come to learn it, Olaf, for what is known need no more be +feared.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure of that,” I said. “But how can the future +be learned?” +</p> + +<p> +“Through the voice of the god, Olaf. Am I not one of Odin’s +virgins, who know something of the mysteries? Yonder in his temple mayhap he +will speak through me, if you dare to listen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I dare. I should like to hear the god speak, true words or +false.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then come and hear them, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +So we went up to the temple, and Freydisa, who had the right of entry, unlocked +its door. We passed in and lit a lamp in front of the seated wooden image of +Odin, that for unnumbered generations had rested there behind the altar. I +stood by the altar and Freydisa crouched herself before the image, her forehead +laid upon its feet, and muttered runes. After a while she grew silent, and fear +took hold of me. The place was large, and the feeble light of the lamp scarcely +reached to the arched roof; all about me were great formless shadows. I felt +that there were two worlds, one of the flesh and one of the spirit, and that I +stood between the two. Freydisa seemed to go to sleep; I could no longer hear +her breathing. Then she sighed heavily and turned her head, and by the light of +the lamp I noted that her face was white and ghastly. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you seek?” her lips asked, for I saw them moving. Yet the +voice that issued from them was not her own voice, but that of a deep-throated +man, who spoke with a strange accent. +</p> + +<p> +Next came the answer in the voice of Freydisa. +</p> + +<p> +“I, your virgin, seek to know the fate of him who stands by the altar, +one whom I love.” +</p> + +<p> +For a while there was quiet; then the first voice spoke, still through the lips +of Freydisa. Of this I was sure, for those of the statue remained immovable. It +was what it had always been—a thing of wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, the son of Thorvald,” said the deep voice, “is an +enemy of us the gods, as was his forefather whose grave he robbed. As his +forefather’s fate was, so shall his be, for in both of them dwells the +same spirit. He shall worship that which is upon the hilt of the sword he stole +from the dead, and in this sign shall conquer, since it prevails against us and +makes our curse of none effect. Great sorrow shall he taste, and great joy. He +shall throw away a sceptre for a woman’s kiss, and yet gain a greater +sceptre. Olaf, whom we curse, shall be Olaf the Blessed. Yet in the end shall +we prevail against his flesh and that of those who cling to him preaching that +which is upon the sword but not with the sword, among whom thou shalt be +numbered, woman—thou, and another, who hast done him wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +The voice died away, and was followed by a silence so deep that at length I +could bear it no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask of the war,” I said, “and of what shall happen.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is too late,” answered the voice of Freydisa. “I sought +to know of you, Olaf, and you alone, and now the spirit has left me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came another long silence, after which Freydisa sighed thrice and awoke. +We went out of the temple, I bearing the lamp and she resting on my arm. Near +the door I turned and looked back, and it seemed to me that the image of the +god glared upon me wrathfully. +</p> + +<p> +“What has chanced?” asked Freydisa when we stood beneath the light +of the friendly stars. “I know nothing; my mind is a blackness.” +</p> + +<p> +I told her word for word. When I had finished she said, +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the Wanderer’s sword.” +</p> + +<p> +I gave it to her, and she held it against the sky by the naked blade. +</p> + +<p> +“The hilt is a cross,” she said; “but how can a man worship a +cross and preach it and conquer thereby? I cannot interpret this rede, yet I do +not doubt but that it shall all come true, and that you, Olaf, and I are doomed +to be joined in the same fate, whatever it may be, and with us some other who +has wronged you, Steinar perchance, or Iduna herself. Well, of this at least I +am glad, for if I have loved the father, I think that I love the son still +more, though otherwise.” And, leaning forward, she kissed me solemnly +upon the brow. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +After Freydisa and I had sought the oracle of Odin, three long ships of war +sailed by the light of the moon from Fladstrand for Athalbrand’s Isle of +Lesso. I do not know when we sailed, but in my mind I can still see those ships +creeping out to sea. In command of the first was Thorvald, my father; of the +second, Ragnar, my brother; and of the third myself, Olaf; and on each of these +ships were fifty men, all of them stout fighters. +</p> + +<p> +The parting with Thora, my mother, had been sad, for her heart foreboded ill of +this war, and her face could not hide what her heart told her. Indeed, she wept +bitterly, and cursed the name of Iduna the Fair, who had brought this trouble +on her House. Freydisa was sad also. Yet, watching her opportunity, she glided +up to me just before I embarked and whispered to me, +</p> + +<p> +“Be of good cheer, for you will return, whoever is left behind.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will give me little comfort to return if certain others are left +behind,” I answered. “Oh, that the folk had hearkened to me and +made peace!” +</p> + +<p> +“Too late to talk of that now,” said Freydisa, and we parted. +</p> + +<p> +This was our plan: To sail for Lesso by the moonlight, and when the moon went +down to creep silently towards the shores of the island. Then, just at the +first break of dawn, we proposed to beach the ships on a sandy strand we knew, +and rush to attack Athalbrand’s hall, which we hoped to carry before men +were well awake. It was a bold scheme and one full of dangers, yet we trusted +that its very boldness would cause it to succeed, especially as we had put it +about that, owing to the unreadiness of our ships, no attack would be made +until the coming of the next moon. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless all might have gone well with us but for a strange chance. As it +happened, Athalbrand, a brave and skilful captain, who from his youth had seen +much war by sea and land, had a design of his own which brought ours to +nothing. It was that he and his people should sail to Fladstrand, burn the +ships of Thorvald, my father, that he knew were fitting out upon the beach, +which he hoped to find unguarded, or at most only watched by a few men, and +then return to Lesso before he could be fallen upon. By ill luck he had chosen +this very night for his enterprise. So it came about that just as the moon was +sinking our watchmen caught sight of four other ships, which by the shields +that hung over their bulwarks they knew must be vessels of war, gliding towards +them over the quiet sea. +</p> + +<p> +“Athalbrand comes to meet us!” cried one, and in a minute every man +was looking to his arms. There was no time for plans, since in that low light +and mist the vessels were almost bow to bow before we saw each other. My +father’s ship ran in between two of Athalbrand’s that were sailing +abreast, while mine and that of Ragnar found themselves almost alongside of the +others. On both sides the sails were let down, for none had any thought of +flight. Some rushed to the oars and got enough of them out to work the ships. +Others ran to the grappling irons, and the rest began to shoot with their bows. +Before one could count two hundred from the time of sighting, the war cry of +“<i>Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!</i>” broke upon the +silence of the night and the battle had begun. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very fierce battle, and one that the gathering darkness made more +grim. Each ship fought without heed to the others, for as the fray went on they +drifted apart, grappled to their foes. My father, Thorvald’s, vessel +fared the worst, since it had an enemy on either bulwark. He boarded one and +cleared it, losing many men. Then the crew of the other rushed on to him as he +regained his own ship. The end of it was that my father and all his folk were +killed, but only after they had slain the most of their foes, for they died +fighting very bravely. +</p> + +<p> +Between Ragnar’s ship and that of Athalbrand himself the fray was more +even. Ragnar boarded Athalbrand and was driven back. Athalbrand boarded Ragnar +and was driven back. Then for the second time Ragnar boarded Athalbrand with +those men who were left to him. In the narrow waist of Athalbrand’s ship +a mighty battle was fought, and here at last Ragnar and Athalbrand found +themselves face to face. +</p> + +<p> +They hacked at each other with their axes, till at length Ragnar, with a +fearful blow, drove in Athalbrand’s helmet and clove his skull in two, so +that he died. But even as he fell, a man, it may have been friend or foe, for +the moon was sinking and the darkness grew dense, thrust a spear into +Ragnar’s back, and he was carried, dying, to his own vessel by those who +remained to him. +</p> + +<p> +Then that fight ceased, for all Athalbrand’s people were dead or wounded +to the death. Meanwhile, on the right, I was fighting the ship that was +commanded by Steinar, for it was fated that we two should be thrown together. +Here also the struggle was desperate. Steinar and his company boarded at the +prow, but I and my men, charging up both boards, drove them back again. In that +charge it is true that I, Olaf, fighting madly, as was my wont when roused, +killed three of the Lesso folk with the Wanderer’s sword. Still I see +them falling one by one. Followed by six of my people, I sprang on to the +raised prow of Steinar’s ship. Just then the grapnels parted, and there +we were left, defending ourselves as best we could. My mates got their oars and +once more brought our boat alongside. Grapple they could not, because the irons +were lost. Therefore, in obedience to the order which I shouted to them from +the high prow of the enemy’s ship, they began to hurl their ballast +stones into her, and thus stove out her bottom, so that in the end she filled +and sank. +</p> + +<p> +Even while she was down the fray went on. Nearly all my people were down; +indeed but two remained to me when Steinar, not knowing who I was, rushed up +and, having lost his sword, gripped me round the middle. We wrestled, but +Steinar, who was the stronger, forced me back to the bulwarks and so overboard. +Into the sea we went together just as the ship sank, drawing us down after her. +When we rose Steinar was senseless, but still clinging to me as I caught a rope +that was thrown to me with my right hand, to which the Wanderer’s sword +was hanging by a leathern loop. +</p> + +<p> +The end of it was that I and the senseless Steinar were both drawn back to my +own ship just as the darkness closed in. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +An hour later came the dawn, showing a sad sight. My father, Thorvald’s, +ship and one of Athalbrand’s lay helpless, for all, or nearly all, their +crews were dead, while the other had drifted off and was now half a mile away. +</p> + +<p> +Ragnar’s ship was still grappled to its foe. My own was perhaps in the +best case, for here over twenty men were left unhurt, and another ten whose +wounds were light. The rest were dead or dying. +</p> + +<p> +I sat on a bench in the waist of the ship, and at my feet lay the man who had +been dragged from the sea with me. I thought that this man was dead till the +first red rays of dawn lit upon his face, whereon he sat up, and I saw that he +was Steinar. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus we meet again, my brother,” I said in a quiet voice. +“Well, Steinar, look upon your work.” And I pointed to the dead and +dying and to the ships around, whence came the sound of groans. +</p> + +<p> +Steinar stared at me and asked in a thick voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Was it with you, Olaf, that I fell into the sea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so, Steinar.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it not in the darkness, Olaf. If I had known, never would I have +lifted sword against you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did that matter, Steinar, when you had already pierced my heart, +though not with a sword?” +</p> + +<p> +At these words Steinar moaned aloud, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“For the second time you have saved my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Steinar; but who knows whether I can do so for a third time? Yet +take comfort, for if I may I will, for thus shall I be best avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +“A white vengeance,” said Steinar. “Oh, this is not to be +borne.” And drawing a knife he wore at his girdle, he strove to kill +himself. +</p> + +<p> +But I, who was watching, snatched it away, then gave an order. +</p> + +<p> +“Bind this man and keep him safe. Also bring him drink and a cloak to +cover him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Best kill the dog,” grumbled the captain, to whom I spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I kill that one who lays a finger on him,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Someone whispered into the captain’s ear, whereon he nodded and laughed +savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I am a thickhead. I had forgotten Odin +and his sacrifice. Yes, yes, we’ll keep the traitor safe.” +</p> + +<p> +So they bound Steinar to one of the benches and gave him ale and covered him +with a blood-stained cloak taken from a dead man. +</p> + +<p> +I also drank of the ale and drew a cloak about me, for the air was keen. Then I +said, +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go to the other ships and see what has chanced there.” +</p> + +<p> +They got out the oars and rowed to Ragnar’s vessel, where we saw men +stirring. +</p> + +<p> +“How went it with you?” I asked of one who stood upon the prow. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so ill, Olaf,” he answered. “We won, and but now, with +the new light, have finished the game. They are all quiet yonder,” he +added, nodding at the vessel of Athalbrand, to which they were still grappled. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Ragnar?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on board and see,” answered the man. +</p> + +<p> +A plank was thrust out and I ran across it, fear gripping at my heart. Resting +against the mast sat Ragnar, dying. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morrow to you, Olaf,” he gasped. “I am glad you live, +that there may be one left to sit at Aar.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, my brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Olaf, that our father, Thorvald, is dead. They called it to us +from yonder.” And he pointed with his red sword to our father’s +ship, that lay side by side with one of Athalbrand’s. “Athalbrand +is dead, for I slew him, and ere the sun is well clear of the sea I also shall +be dead. Oh, weep not, Olaf; we have won a great fight, and I travel to +Valhalla with a glorious company of friends and foes, there to await you. I say +that had I lived to be old, never could I have found a better death, who then +at last might have died like a cow. Get the ships to Fladstrand, Olaf, and +gather more men to put all Lesso to the sword. Give us good burial, Olaf, and +build a great mound over us, that we may stand thereon at moonrise and mock the +men of Lesso as they row past, till Valhalla is full and the world dies. Is +Steinar dead? Tell me that Steinar is dead, for then I’ll speak with him +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Ragnar, I have taken Steinar captive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captive! Why captive? Oh, I understand; that he may lie on Odin’s +altar. Friends, swear to me that Steinar shall lie on Odin’s altar, +Steinar, the bride-thief, Steinar the traitor. Swear it, for I do not trust +this brother of mine, who has woman’s milk in his breasts. By Thor, he +might spare him if he had his way. Swear it, or I’ll haunt your beds +o’ nights and bring the other heroes with me. Swift now, while my ears +are open.” +</p> + +<p> +Then from both ships rose the cry of +</p> + +<p> +“We swear! Fear not, Ragnar, we swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s well,” said Ragnar. “Kiss me now, Olaf. Oh! +what is it that I see in your eyes? A new light, a strange light! Olaf, you are +not one of us. This time is not your time, nor this place your place. You +travel to the end by another road. Well, who knows? At that end we may meet +again. At least I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he burst into a wild war song of blood and vengeance, and so singing sank +down and died. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Afterwards, with much labour, I and the men who were left roped together our +vessels, and to them those that we had captured, and when a favouring wind +arose, sailed back for Fladstrand. Here a multitude awaited us, for a +fishing-boat had brought tidings of the great sea battle. Of the hundred and +fifty men who had sailed in my father, Thorvald’s, ships sixty were dead +and many others wounded, some of them to death. Athalbrand’s people had +fared even worse, since those of Thorvald had slain their wounded, only one of +his vessels having escaped back to Lesso, there to tell the people of that +island and Iduna all that had happened. Now it was a land of widows and +orphans, so that no man need go wooing there for long, and of Aar and the +country round the same song was sung. Indeed, for generations the folk of those +parts must have told of the battle of Lesso, when the chiefs, Thorvald and +Athalbrand, slew each other upon the seas at night because of a quarrel about a +woman who was known as Iduna the Fair. +</p> + +<p> +On the sands of Fladstrand my mother, the lady Thora, waited with the others, +for she had moved thither before the sailing of the ships. When mine, the first +of them, was beached, I leapt from it, and running to her, knelt down and +kissed her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you, my son Olaf,” she said, “but where are your +father and brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yonder, mother,” I answered, pointing to the ships, and could say +no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do they tarry, my son?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! mother, because they sleep and will never wake again.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Thora wailed aloud and fell down senseless. Three days later she died, for +her heart, which was weak, could not bear this woe. Once only did she speak +before she died, and then it was to bless me and pray that we might meet again, +and to curse Iduna. Folk noted that of Steinar she said nothing, either good or +ill, although she knew that he lived and was a prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that I, Olaf, was left alone in the world and inherited the +lordship of Aar and its subject lands. No one remained save my dark-browed +uncle, Leif, the priest of Odin, Freydisa, the wise woman, my nurse, and +Steinar, my captive foster-brother, who had been the cause of all this war. +</p> + +<p> +The dying words of Ragnar had been noised abroad. The priest of Odin had laid +them before the oracle of the gods, and this oracle declared that they must be +fulfilled without change. +</p> + +<p> +So all the folk of that land met together at my bidding—yes, even the +women and the children. First we laid the dead in the largest of +Athalbrand’s ships, his people and Athalbrand himself being set +undermost. Then on them we set the dead of Thorvald, Thorvald, my father, and +his son Ragnar, my brother, bound to the mast upon their feet. This done, with +great labour we dragged the ship on to high ground, and above it built a mighty +mound of earth. For twenty days we toiled at the task, till at last it was +finished and the dead were hidden beneath it for ever. Then we separated to our +homes and mourned a while. +</p> + +<p> +But Steinar was carried to the temple of Odin at Aar, and there kept in the +prison of the temple. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI<br/> +HOW OLAF FOUGHT WITH ODIN</h2> + +<p> +It was the eve of the Spring Feast of Odin. It comes back to me that at this +feast it was the custom to sacrifice some beast to Odin and to lay flowers and +other offerings upon the altars of certain other gods that they might be +pleased to grant a fruitful season. On this day, however, the sacrifice was to +be of no beast, but of a man—Steinar the traitor. +</p> + +<p> +That night I, Olaf, by the help of Freydisa, the priestess of the god, won +entrance to the dungeon where Steinar lay awaiting his doom. This was not easy +to do. Indeed, I remember that it was only after I had sworn a great oath to +Leif and the other priests that I would attempt no rescue of the victim, nor +aid him to escape from his prison, that I was admitted there, while armed men +stood without to see that I did not break my word. For my love of Steinar was +known, and in this matter none trusted me. +</p> + +<p> +That dungeon was a dreadful place. I see it now. In the floor of the temple was +a trap-door, which, when lifted, revealed a flight of steps. At the foot of +these steps was another massive door of oak, bolted and barred. It was opened +and closed behind me, who found myself in a darksome den built of rough stone, +to which air came only through an opening in the roof, so small that not even a +child could pass it. In the far corner of this hole, bound to the wall by an +iron chain fastened round his middle, Steinar lay upon a bed of rushes, while +on a stool beside him stood food and water. When I entered, bearing a lamp, +Steinar sat up blinking his eyes, for the light, feeble as it was, hurt them, +and I saw that his face was white and drawn, and the hand he held to shade his +eyes was wasted. I looked at him and my heart swelled with pity, so that I +could not speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Why have you come here, Olaf?” asked Steinar when he knew me. +“Is it to take my life? If so, never were you more welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Steinar, it is to bid you farewell, since to-morrow at the feast you +die, and I am helpless to save you. In all things else men will obey me, but +not in this.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would you save me if you could?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Steinar. Why not? Surely you must suffer enough with so much blood +and evil on your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suffer enough, Olaf. So much that I shall be glad to die. But if +you are not come to kill me, then it is that you may scourge me with your +tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Steinar. It is as I have said, only to bid you farewell and to +ask you a question, if it pleases you to answer me. Why did you do this thing +which has brought about such misery and loss, which has sent my father, my +brother, and a host of brave men to the grave, and with them my mother, whose +breasts nursed you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she dead also, Olaf? Oh! my cup is full.” He hid his eyes in +his thin hands and sobbed, then went on: “Why did I do it? Olaf, I did +not do it, but some spirit that entered into me and made me mad—mad for +the lips of Iduna the Fair. Olaf, I would speak no ill of her, since her sin is +mine, but yet it is true that when I hung back she drew me on, nor could I find +the strength to say her nay. Do you pray the gods, Olaf, that no woman may ever +draw you on to such shame as mine. Hearken now to the great reward that I have +won. I was never wed to Iduna, Olaf. Athalbrand would not suffer it till he was +sure of the matter of the lordship of Agger. Then, when he knew that this was +gone from me, he would suffer it still less, and Iduna herself seemed to grow +cold. In truth, I believe he thought of killing me and sending my head as a +present to your father Thorvald. But this Iduna forbade, whether because she +loved me or for other reasons, I cannot say. Olaf, you know the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Steinar, I know the rest. Iduna is lost to me, and for that perhaps +I should thank you, although such a thrust as this leaves the heart sore for +life. My father, my mother, my brother—all are lost to me, and you, too, +who were as my twin, are about to be lost. Night has you all, and with you a +hundred other men, because of the madness that was bred in you by the eyes of +Iduna the Fair, who also is lost to both of us. Steinar, I do not blame you, +for I know yours was a madness which, for their own ends, the gods send upon +men, naming it love. I forgive you, Steinar, if I have aught to forgive, and I +tell you, so weary am I of this world, which I feel holds little that is good, +that, if I might, I’d yield up my life instead of yours, and go to seek +the others, though I doubt whether I should find them, since I think that our +roads are different. Hark! the priests call me. Steinar, there’s no need +to bid you to be brave, for who of our Northern race is not? That’s our +one heritage: the courage of a bull. Yet it seems to me that there are other +sorts of courage which we lack: to tread the dark ways of death with eyes fixed +on things gentler and better than we know. Pray to our gods, Steinar, since +they are the best we have to pray to, though dark and bloody in their ways; +pray that we may meet again, where priests and swords are not and women work no +ruin, where we may love as we once loved in childhood and there is no more sin. +Fare you well, my brother Steinar, yet not for ever, for sure I am that here we +did not begin and here we shall not end. Oh! Steinar, Steinar, who could have +dreamed that this would be the last of all our happy fellowship?” +</p> + +<p> +When I had spoken such words as these to him, I flung my arms about him, and we +embraced each other. Then that picture fades. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was the hour of sacrifice. The victim lay bound upon the stone in the +presence of the statue of the god, but outside of the doors of the little +temple, that all who were gathered there might see the offering. +</p> + +<p> +The ceremonies were ended. Leif, the head priest, in his robe of office, had +prayed and drunk the cup before the god, dedicating to him the blood that was +about to fall, and narrating in a chant the crimes for which it was offered up +and all the tale of woe that these had brought about. Then, in the midst of an +utter silence, he drew the sacrificial sword and held it to the lips of Odin +that the god might breathe upon it and make it holy. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that the god did breathe; at least, that side of the sword which +had been bright grew dull. Leif turned it to the people, crying in the ancient +words: +</p> + +<p> +“Odin takes; who dare deny?” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were fixed upon him, standing in his black robe, and holding aloft the +gleaming sword that had grown dull. Yes, even the patient eyes of Steinar, +bound upon the stone. +</p> + +<p> +Then it was that some spirit stirred in my heart which drove me on to step +between the priest and his prey. Standing in the doorway of the chapel, a tall, +young shape against the gloom behind, I said in a steady voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I dare deny!” +</p> + +<p> +A gasp of wonderment went up from all who heard, and Steinar, lifting himself a +little from the stone, stared at me, shook his head as if in dissent, then let +it fall again, and listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken, friends,” I said. “This man, my foster-brother, has +committed a sin against me and my House. My House is dead—I alone remain; +and on behalf of the dead and of myself I forgive him his sin, which, indeed, +was less his than another’s. Is there any man among you who at some time +has not been led aside by woman, or who has not again and again desired to be +so led aside? If such a one there be, let him say that he has no forgiveness in +his heart for Steinar, the son of Hakon. Let him come forward and say +it.” +</p> + +<p> +None stirred; even the women drooped their heads and were silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if this is so,” I went on, “and you can forgive, as I +do, how much more should a god forgive? What is a god? Is he not one greater +than man, who must know all the weakness of man, which, for his own ends, he +has bred into the flesh of man? How, then, can he do otherwise than be pitiful +to what he has created? If this be so, how can the god refuse that which men +are willing to grant, and what sacrifice can please him better than the +foregoing of his own vengeance? Would a god wish to be outdone by a man? If I, +Olaf, the man can forgive, who have been wronged, how much more can Odin the +god forgive, who has suffered no wrong save that of the breaking of those laws +which will ever be broken by men who are as it has pleased him to fashion them? +On Odin’s behalf, therefore, and speaking as he would speak, could he +have voice among us, I demand that you set this victim free, leaving it to his +own heart to punish him.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, some whom my simple words had touched, I suppose because there was truth +in them, although in those days and in that land none understood such truths, +and others, because they had known and loved the open-handed Steinar, who would +have given the cloak from his back to the meanest of them, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, let him go free. There has been enough of death through this +Iduna.” +</p> + +<p> +But more stood silent, lost in doubt at this new doctrine. Only Leif, my uncle, +did not stand silent. His dark face began to work as though a devil possessed +him, as, indeed, I think one did. His eyes rolled; he champed his jaws like an +angry hog, and screamed: +</p> + +<p> +“Surely the lord Olaf is mad, for no sane man would talk thus. Man may +forgive while it is within his power; but this traitor has been dedicated to +Odin, and can a god forgive? Can a god spare when his nostrils are opened for +the smell of blood? If so, of what use is it to be a god? How is he happier +than a man if he must spare? Moreover, would ye bring the curse of Odin upon +you all? I say to you—steal his sacrifice, and you yourselves shall be +sacrificed, you, your wives, your children, aye, and even your cattle and the +fruit of your fields.” +</p> + +<p> +When they heard this, the people groaned and shouted out: +</p> + +<p> +“Let Steinar die! Kill him! Kill him that Odin may be fed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” answered Leif, “Steinar shall die. See, he +dies!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a leap like to that of a hungry wolf, he sprang upon the bound man +and slew him. +</p> + +<p> +I see it now. The rude temple, the glaring statue of the god, the gathered +crowd, open mouthed and eyed, the spring sunshine shining quietly over all, +and, running past the place, a ewe calling to the lamb that it had lost; I see +the dying Steinar turn his white face, and smile a farewell to me with his +fading eyes; I see Leif getting to his horrible rites that he might learn the +omen, and lastly I see the red sword of the Wanderer appear suddenly between me +and him, and in my hand. I think that my purpose was to cut him down. Only a +thought arose within me. +</p> + +<p> +This priest was not to blame. He did no more than he had been taught. Who +taught him? The god he served, through whom he gained honour and livelihood. So +the god was to blame, the god that drank the blood of men, as a thrall drinks +ale, to satisfy his filthy appetite. Could such a monster be a god? Nay, he +must be a devil, and why should free men serve devils? At least, I would not. I +would cast him off, and let him avenge himself upon me if he could. I, Olaf, +would match myself against this god—or devil. +</p> + +<p> +I strode past Leif and the altar to where the statue of Odin sat within the +temple. +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken!” I said in such a voice that all lifted their eyes from +the scene of butchery to me. “You believe in Odin, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +They answered “Aye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you believe that he can revenge himself upon one who rejects and +affronts him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” they answered again. +</p> + +<p> +“If this be so,” I went on, “will you swear to leave the +matter between Odin and me, Olaf, to be settled according to the law of single +combat, and give peace to the victor, with promise from all harm save at the +hands of his foe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” they answered, yet scarcely understanding what they said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” I cried. “Now, God Odin, I, Olaf, a man, challenge +you to single combat. Strike you first, you, Odin, whom I name Devil and Wolf +of the skies, but no god. Strike you first, bloody murderer, and kill me, if +you can, who await your stroke!” +</p> + +<p> +Then I folded my arms and stared at the statue’s stony eyes, which stared +back at me, while all the people gasped. +</p> + +<p> +For a full minute I waited thus, but all that happened was that a wren settled +on the head of Odin and twittered there, then flew off to its nest in the +thatch. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” I cried, “you have had your turn, and mine +comes.” +</p> + +<p> +I drew the Wanderer’s sword, and sprang at Odin. My first stroke sunk up +to the hilt in his hollow belly; my next cut the sceptre from his hand; my +third—a great one—hewed the head from off him. It came rattling +down, and out of it crawled a viper, which reared itself up and hissed. I set +my heel upon the reptile’s head and crushed it, and slowly it writhed +itself to death. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, good folk,” I cried, “what say you of your god +Odin?” +</p> + +<p> +They answered nothing, for all of them were in flight. Yes, even Leif fled, +cursing me over his shoulder as he went. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I was alone with the dead Steinar and the shattered god, and in that +loneliness strange visions came to me, for I felt that I had done a mighty +deed, one that made me happy. Round the wall of the temple crept a figure; it +was that of Freydisa, whose face was white and scared. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a great man, Olaf,” she said; “but how will it +end?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” I answered. “I have done what my heart told +me, neither more nor less, and I bide the issue. Odin shall have his chance, +for here I stay till dark, and then, if I live, I leave this land. Go, get me +all the gold that is mine from the hall, and bring it here to me by moonrise, +and with it some garments and my armour. Bring me also my best horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“You leave this land?” she said. “That means that you leave +me, who love you, to go forth as the Wanderer went—following a dream to +the South. Well, it is best that you should go, for whatever they have promised +you but now, it is sure that the priests will kill you, even if you escape the +vengeance of the god.” And she looked askance at the shattered statue +which had sat in its place for so many generations that none knew who had set +it there, or when. +</p> + +<p> +“I have killed the god,” I answered, pointing to the crushed viper. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite, Olaf, for, see, its tail still moves.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she went, leaving me alone. I sat myself down by the murdered Steinar, and +stared at him. Could he be really dead, I wondered, or did he live on +elsewhere? My faith had taught me of a place called Valhalla where brave men +went, but in that faith and its gods I believed no more. This Valhalla was but +a child’s tale, invented by a bloody-minded folk who loved slaughter. +Wherever Steinar and the others were, it was not in Valhalla. Then, perhaps, +they slept like the beasts do after these have been butchered. Perhaps death +was the end of all. It might be so, and yet I did not believe it. There were +other gods besides Odin and his company, for what were those which we had found +in the Wanderer’s tomb? I longed to know. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I would go south, as the Wanderer went, and search for them. Perhaps there +in the South I should learn the secret truth—and other things. +</p> + +<p> +I grew weary of these thoughts of gods who could not be found, or who, if +found, were but devils. My mind went back to my childhood’s days, when +Steinar and I played together on the meads, before any woman had come to wreck +our lives. I remembered how we used to play until we were weary, and how at +nights I would tell him tales that I had learned or woven, until at length we +sank to sleep, our arms about each other’s necks. My heart grew full of +sorrow that in the end broke from my eyes in tears. Yes, I wept over Steinar, +my brother Steinar, and kissed his cold and gory lips. +</p> + +<p> +The evening gathered, the twilight grew, and, one by one, the stars sprang out +in the quiet sky, till the moon appeared and gathered all their radiance to +herself. I heard the sound of a woman’s dress, and looked up, thinking to +see Freydisa. But this woman was not Freydisa; it was Iduna! Yes, Iduna’s +self! +</p> + +<p> +I rose to my feet and stood still. She also stood still, on the farther side of +the stone of sacrifice whereon that which had been Steinar was stretched +between us. Then came a struggle of silence, in which she won at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you come to save him?” I asked. “If so, it is too late. +Woman, behold your work.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her beautiful head and answered, almost in a whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Olaf, I am come to beg a boon of you: that you will slay me, here +and now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I a butcher—or a priest?” I muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, slay me, slay me, Olaf!” she went on, throwing herself upon +her knees before me, and rending open her blue robe that her young breast might +take the sword. “Thus, perchance, I, who love life, may pay some of the +price of sin, who, if I slew myself, would but multiply the debt, which in +truth I dare not do.” +</p> + +<p> +Still I shook my head, and once more she spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, in this way or in that doubtless my end will find me, for, if you +refuse this office, there are others of sterner stuff. The knife that smote +Steinar is not blunted. Yet, before I die, who am come here but to die, I pray +you hear the truth, that my memory may be somewhat less vile to you in the +after years. Olaf, you think me the falsest of the false, yet I am not +altogether so. Hark you now! At the time that Steinar sought me, some madness +took him. So soon as we were alone together, his first words were: ‘I am +bewitched. I love you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I’ll not deny that his worship stirred my blood, for he was +goodly—well, and different to you, with your dreaming eyes and thoughts +that are too deep for me. And yet, by my breath, I swear that I meant no harm. +When we rode together to the ship, it was my purpose to return upon the morrow +and be made your wife. But there upon the ship my father compelled me. It was +his fancy that I should break with you and be wed to Steinar, who had become so +great a lord and who pleased him better than you did, Olaf. And, as for +Steinar—why, have I not told you that he was mad for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Steinar’s tale was otherwise, Iduna. He said that you went first, +and that he followed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were those his words, Olaf? For, if so, how can I give the dead the lie, +and one who died through me? It seems unholy. Yet in this matter Steinar had no +reason left to him and, whether you believe me or no, I tell the truth. Oh! +hear me out, for who knows when they will come to take me, who have walked into +this nest of foes that I may be taken? Pray as I would, the ship was run out, +and we sailed for Lesso. There, in my father’s hall, upon my knees, I +entreated him to hold his hand. I told him what was true: that, of you twain, +it was you I loved, not Steinar. I told him that if he forced this marriage, +war would come of it that might mean all our deaths. But these things moved him +nothing. Then I told him that such a deed of shame would mean the loss of +Steinar’s lordship, so that by it he would gain no profit. At last he +listened, for this touched him near. You know the rest. Thorvald, your father, +and Ragnar, who ever hated me, pressed on the war despite all our offerings of +peace. So the ships met, and Hela had her fill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Iduna, whatever else is false, this is true, that Hela had her +fill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I have but one thing more to say. It is this: Only once did those +dead lips touch mine, and then it was against my will. Aye, although it is +shameful, you must learn the truth. My father held me, Olaf, while I took the +betrothal kiss, because I must. But, as you know, there was no marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I know that,” I said, “because Steinar told me +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, save for that one kiss, Olaf, I am still the maid whom once you +loved so well.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I stared at her. Could this woman lie so blackly over dead Steinar’s +corpse? When all was said and done, was it not possible that she spoke the +truth, and that we had been but playthings in the hands of an evil Fate? Save +for some trifling error, which might be forgiven to one who, as she said, loved +the worship that was her beauty’s due, what if she were innocent, after +all? +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps my face showed the thoughts that were passing through my mind. At the +least, she who knew me well found skill to read them. She crept towards me, +still on her knees; she cast her arms about me, and, resting her weight upon +me, drew herself to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she whispered, “I love you, I love you well, as I +have always done, though I may have erred a little, as women wayward and still +unwed are apt to do. Olaf, they told me yonder how you had matched yourself +against the god, with his priests for judges, and smitten him, and I thought +this the greatest deed that ever I have known. I used to think you something of +a weakling, Olaf, not in your body but in your mind, one lost in music and in +runes, who feared to put things to the touch of war; but you have shown me +otherwise. You slew the bear; you overcame Steinar, who was so much stronger +than you are, in the battle of the ships; and now you have bearded Odin, the +All-father. Look, his head lies there, hewn off by you for the sake of one who, +after all, had done you wrong. Olaf, such a deed as that touches a +woman’s heart, and he who does it is the man she would wish to lie upon +her breast and be her lord. Olaf, all this evil past may yet be forgotten. We +might go and live elsewhere for awhile, or always, for with your wisdom and my +beauty joined together what could we not conquer? Olaf, I love you now as I +have never loved before, cannot you love me again?” +</p> + +<p> +Her arms clung about me; her beautiful blue eyes, shimmering with moonlit +tears, held my eyes, and my heart melted beneath her breath as winter snows +melt in the winds of spring. She saw, she understood; she cast herself upon me, +shaking her long hair over both of us, and seeking my lips. Almost she had +found them, when, feeling something hard between me and her, something that +hurt me, I looked down. Her cloak had slipped or been thrown aside, and my eye +caught the glint of gold and jewels. In an instant I remembered—the +Wanderer’s necklace and the dream—and with those memories my heart +froze again. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Iduna,” I said, “I loved you well; there’s no man +will ever love you more, and you are very fair. Whether you speak true words or +false, I do not know; it is between you and your own spirit. But this I do +know: that betwixt us runs the river of Steinar’s blood, aye, and the +blood of Thorvald, my father, of Thora, my mother, of Ragnar, my brother, and +of many another man who clung to us, and that is a stream which I cannot cross. +Find you another husband, Iduna the Fair, since never will I call you +wife.” +</p> + +<p> +She loosed her arms from round me, and, lifting them again, unclasped the +Wanderer’s necklace from about her breast. +</p> + +<p> +“This it is,” she said, “which has brought all these evils on +me. Take it back again, and, when you find her, give it to that one for whom it +is meant, that one whom you love truly, as, whatever you may have thought, you +never have loved me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she sank upon the ground, and resting her golden head upon dead +Steinar’s breast, she wept. +</p> + +<p> +I think it was then that Freydisa returned; at least, I recall her tall form +standing near the stone of sacrifice, gazing at us both, a strange smile on her +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you withstood?” she said. “Then, truly, you are in the +way of victory and have less to fear from woman than I thought. All things are +ready as you commanded, my lord Olaf, and there remains but to say farewell, +which you had best do quickly, for they plot your death yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Freydisa,” I answered, “I go, but perchance I shall return +again. Meanwhile, all I have is yours, with this charge. Guard you yonder +woman, and see her safe to her home, or wherever she would go, and to Steinar +here give honourable burial.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Then the darkness of oblivion falls, and I remember no more save the white face +of Iduna, her brow stained with Steinar’s life-blood, watching me as I +went. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"></a> +BOOK II<br/> +BYZANTIUM</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER I<br/> +IRENE, EMPRESS OF THE EARTH</h2> + +<p> +A gulf of blackness and the curtain lifts again upon a very different Olaf from +the young northern lord who parted from Iduna at the place of sacrifice at Aar. +</p> + +<p> +I see myself standing upon a terrace that overlooks a stretch of quiet water, +which I now know was the Bosphorus. Behind me are a great palace and the lights +of a vast city; in front, upon the sea and upon the farther shore, are other +lights. The moon shines bright above me, and, having naught else to do, I study +my reflection in my own burnished shield. It shows a man of early middle life; +he may be thirty or five-and-thirty years of age; the same Olaf, yet much +changed. For now my frame is tall and well-knit, though still somewhat slender; +my face is bronzed by southern suns; I wear a short beard; there is a scar +across my cheek, got in some battle; my eyes are quiet, and have lost the first +liveliness of youth. I know that I am the captain of the Northern Guard of the +Empress Irene, widow of the dead emperor, Leo the Fourth, and joint ruler of +the Eastern Empire with her young son, Constantine, the sixth of that name. +</p> + +<p> +How I came to fill this place, however, I do not know. The story of my journey +from Jutland to Byzantium is lost to me. Doubtless it must have taken years, +and after these more years of humble service, before I rose to be the captain +of Irene’s Northern Guard that she kept ever about her person, because +she would not trust her Grecian soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +My armour was very rich, yet I noted about myself two things that were with me +in my youth. One was the necklace of golden shells, divided from each other by +beetles of emeralds, that I had taken from the Wanderer’s grave at Aar, +and the other the cross-hilted bronze sword with which this same Wanderer had +been girded in his grave. I know now that because of this weapon, which was of +a metal and shape strange to that land, I had the byname of Olaf Red-Sword, and +I know also that none wished to feel the weight of this same ancient blade. +</p> + +<p> +When I had finished looking at myself in the shield, I leaned upon the parapet +staring at the sea and wondering how the plains of Aar looked that night +beneath this selfsame moon, and whether Freydisa were dead by now, and whom +Iduna had married, and if she ever thought of me, or if Steinar came to haunt +her sleep. +</p> + +<p> +So I mused, till presently I felt a light touch upon my shoulder, and swung +round to find myself face to face with the Empress Irene herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta!” I said, saluting, for, as Empress, that was her Roman +title, even though she was a Greek. +</p> + +<p> +“You guard me well, friend Olaf,” she said, with a little laugh. +“Why, any enemy, and Christ knows I have plenty, could have cut you down +before ever you knew that he was there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Augusta,” I answered, for I could speak their Greek tongue +well; “since at the end of the terrace the guards stand night and day, +men of my own blood who can be trusted. Nothing which does not fly could gain +this place save through your own chambers, that are also guarded. It is not +usual for any watch to be set here, still I came myself in case the Empress +might need me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is kind of you, my Captain Olaf, and I think I do need you. At +least, I cannot sleep in this heat, and I am weary of the thoughts of State, +for many matters trouble me just now. Come, change my mind, if you can, for if +so I’ll thank you. Tell me of yourself when you were young. Why did you +leave your northern home, where I’ve heard you were a barbarian chief, +and wander hither to Byzantium?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because of a woman,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, clapping her hands; “I knew it. Tell me of +this woman whom you love.” +</p> + +<p> +“The story is short, Augusta. She bewitched my foster-brother, and caused +him to be sacrificed to the northern gods as a troth-breaker, and I do not love +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d not admit it if you did, Olaf. Was she beautiful, well, say +as I am?” +</p> + +<p> +I turned and looked at the Empress, studying her from head to foot. She was +shorter than Iduna by some inches, also older, and therefore of a thicker +build; but, being a fair Greek, her colour was much the same, save that the +eyes were darker. The mouth, too, was more hard. For the rest, she was a +royal-looking and lovely woman in the flower of her age, and splendidly attired +in robes broidered with gold, over which she wore long strings of rounded +pearls. Her rippling golden hair was dressed in the old Greek fashion, tied in +a simple knot behind her head, and over it was thrown a light veil worked with +golden stars. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Captain Olaf,” she said, “have you finished weighing +my poor looks against those of this northern girl in the scales of your +judgment? If so, which of us tips the beam?” +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna was more beautiful than ever you can have been, Augusta,” I +replied quietly. +</p> + +<p> +She stared at me till her eyes grew quite round, then puckered up her mouth as +though to say something furious, and finally burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“By every saint in Byzantium,” she said, “or, rather, by +their relics, for of live ones there are none, you are the strangest man whom I +have known. Are you weary of life that you dare to say such a thing to me, the +Empress Irene?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I weary of life? Well, Augusta, on the whole I think I am. It seems +to me that death and after it may interest us more. For the rest, you asked me +a question, and, after the fashion of my people, I answered it as truthfully as +I could.” +</p> + +<p> +“By my head, you have said it again,” she exclaimed. “Have +you not heard, most innocent Northman, that there are truths which should not +be mentioned and much less repeated?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard many things in Byzantium, Augusta, but I pay no attention +to any of them—or, indeed, to little except my duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that this, this—what’s the girl’s name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna the Fair,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“——this Iduna has thrown you over, at which I am sure I do +not wonder, what mistresses have you in Byzantium, Olaf the Dane?” +</p> + +<p> +“None at all,” I answered. “Women are pleasant, but one may +buy sweets too dear, and all that ever I saw put together were not worth my +brother Steinar, who lost his life through one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Captain Olaf, are you a secret member of this new society of +hermits of which they talk so much, who, if they see a woman, must hold their +faces in the sand for five minutes afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard of them, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a Christian?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I am considering that religion—or rather its followers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a pagan, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I fought a duel with the god Odin, and cut his head off with this +sword, and that is why I left the North, where they worship Odin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what are you?” she said, stamping her foot in exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the captain of your Imperial Majesty’s private guard, a +little of a philosopher, and a fair poet in my own language, not in Greek. +Also, I can play the harp.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say ‘not in Greek,’ for fear lest I should ask you to +write verses to me, which, indeed, I shall never do, Olaf. A soldier, a poet, a +philosopher, a harpist, one who has renounced women! Now, why have you +renounced women, which is unnatural in a man who is not a monk? It must be +because you still love this Iduna, and hope to get her some day.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“I might have done that long ago, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it must be because there is some other woman whom you wish to gain. +Why do you always wear that strange necklace?” she added sharply. +“Did it belong to this savage girl Iduna, as, from the look of it, it +might well have done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Augusta. She took it for a while, and it brought sorrow on her, +as it will do on all women save one who may or may not live to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it me. I have taken a fancy to it; it is unusual. Oh! fear not, you +shall receive its value.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish the necklace, Augusta, you must take the head as well; and +my counsel to you is that you do neither, since they will bring you no good +luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, Captain Olaf, you anger me with your riddles. What do you mean +about this necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Augusta, that I took it from a very ancient +grave——” +</p> + +<p> +“That I can believe, for the jeweller who made it worked in old +Egypt,” she interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“——and thereafter I dreamed a dream,” I went on, +“of the woman who wears the other half of it. I have not seen her yet, +but when I do I shall know her at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“So!” she exclaimed, “did I not tell you that, east or west +or north or south, there <i>is</i> some other woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was once, Augusta, quite a thousand years ago or more, and there +may be again now, or a thousand years hence. That is what I am trying to find +out. You say the work is Egyptian. Augusta, at your convenience, will you be +pleased to make another captain in my place? I would visit Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you leave Byzantium without express permission under my own +hand—not the Emperor’s or anybody else’s hand; mine, I +say—and are caught, your eyes shall be put out as a deserter!” she +said savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“As the Augusta pleases,” I answered, saluting. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she went on in a more gentle voice, “you are clearly +mad; but, to tell truth, you are also a madman who pleases me, since I weary of +the rogues and lick-spittles who call themselves sane in Byzantium. Why, +there’s not a man in all the city who would dare to speak to me as you +have spoken to-night, and like that breeze from the sea, it is refreshing. Lend +me that necklace, Olaf, till to-morrow morning. I want to examine it in the +lamplight, and I swear to you that I will not take it from you or play you any +tricks about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you promise not to wear it, Augusta?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Is it likely that I should wish to wear it on my bare breast +after it has been rubbing against your soiled armour?” +</p> + +<p> +Without another word I unhooked the necklace and handed it to her. She ran to a +little distance, and, with one of those swift movements that were common to +her, fastened it about her own neck. Then she returned, and threw the great +strings of pearls, which she had removed to make place for it, over my head. +</p> + +<p> +“Now have you found the woman of that dream, Olaf?” she asked, +turning herself about in the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Augusta; but I fear that <i>you</i> have found misfortune. When it +comes, I pray you to remember that you promised not to wear the necklace. Also +that your soldier, Olaf, Thorvald’s son, would have given his life rather +than that you should have done so, not for the sake of any dream, but for your +sake, Augusta, whom it is his business to protect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would, then, it were your business either to protect me a little more, +or a little less!” she exclaimed bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Having uttered this dark saying, she vanished from the terrace still wearing +the string of golden shells. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning the necklace was returned to me by Irene’s +favourite lady, who smiled as she gave it to me. She was a dark-eyed, witty, +and able girl named Martina, who had been my friend for a long while. +</p> + +<p> +“The Augusta said that you were to examine this jewel to see that it has +not been changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never suggested that the Augusta was a thief,” I replied, +“therefore it is unnecessary.” +</p> + +<p> +“She said also that I was to tell you, in case you should think that it +has been befouled by her wearing of it, that she has had it carefully +cleaned.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is thoughtful of her, Martina, for it needed washing. Now, will you +take the Augusta’s pearls, which she left with me in error?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no orders to take any pearls, Captain Olaf, although I did notice +that two of the finest strings in the Empire are missing. Oh! you great +northern child,” she added in a whisper, “keep the pearls, they are +a gift, and worth a prince’s ransom; and take whatever else you can get, +and keep that too.”[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] I have no further vision concerning these priceless pearls and do not know +what became of them. Perhaps I was robbed of them during my imprisonment, or +perhaps I gave them to Heliodore or to Martina. Where are they now, I +wonder?—Editor. +</p> + +<p> +Then, before I could answer her, she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +For some weeks after this I saw no more of the Augusta, who appeared to avoid +me. One day, however, I was summoned to her presence in her private apartments +by the waiting-lady Martina, and went, to find her alone, save for Martina. The +first thing that I noticed was that she wore about her neck an exact copy of +the necklace of golden shells and emerald beetles; further, that about her +waist was a girdle and on her wrist a bracelet of similar design. Pretending to +see nothing, I saluted and stood to attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain,” she began, “yonder”—and she waved her +hand towards the city, so that I could not fail to see the shell +bracelet—“the uncles of my son, the Emperor, lie in prison. Have +you heard of the matter, and, if so, what have you heard?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard, Augusta, that the Emperor having been defeated by the +Bulgarians, some of the legions proposed to set his uncle, Nicephorus—he +who has been made a priest—upon the throne. I have heard further that +thereon the Emperor caused the Cæsar Nicephorus to be blinded, and the tongues +of the two other Cæsars and of their two brothers, the <i>Nobilissimi</i>, to +be slit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think well of such a deed, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta,” I answered, “in this city I make it my business +not to think, for if I did I should certainly go mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, on this matter I command you to think, and to speak the truth of +your thoughts. No harm shall come to you, whatever they may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta, I obey you. I think that whoever did this wicked thing must be +a devil, either returned from that hell of which everyone is so fond of talking +here, or on the road thither.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you think that, do you? So I was right when I told Martina that +there was only one honest opinion to be had in Constantinople and I knew where +to get it. Well, most severe and indignant judge, suppose I tell you it was I +who commanded that this deed should be done. Then would you change your +judgment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Augusta. I should only think much worse of you than ever I did +before. If these great persons were traitors to the State, they should have +been executed. But to torment them, to take away the sight of heaven and to +bring them to the level of dumb beasts, all that their actual blood may not be +on the tormentors’ hand—why, the act is vile. So, at least, it +would be held in those northern lands which you are pleased to call +barbarian.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Irene sprang from her seat and clapped her hands for joy. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear what he says, Martina, and the Emperor shall hear it too; aye, +and so shall my ministers, Stauracius and Aetius, who supported him in this +matter. I alone withstood him; I prayed him for his soul’s sake to be +merciful. He answered that he would no longer be governed by a woman; that he +knew how to safeguard his empire, and what conscience should allow and what +refuse. So, in spite of all my tears and prayers, the vile deed was done, as I +think for no good cause. Well, it cannot be undone. Yet, Olaf, I fear that it +may be added to, and that these royal-born men may be foully murdered. +Therefore, I put you in charge of the prison where they lie. Here is the signed +order. Take with you what men you may think needful, and hold that place, even +should the Emperor himself command you to open. See also that the prisoners +within are cared for and have all they need, but do not suffer them to +escape.” +</p> + +<p> +I saluted and turned to go, when Irene called me back. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, too, in obedience to some sign which she made, Martina left the +chamber, looking at me oddly as she did so. I came and stood before the +Empress, who, I noted, seemed somewhat troubled, for her breast heaved and her +gaze was fixed upon the floor now. It was of mosaic, and represented a heathen +goddess talking to a young man, who stood before her with his arms folded. The +goddess was angry with the man, and held in her left hand a dagger as though +she would stab him, although her right arm was stretched out to embrace him and +her attitude was one of pleading. +</p> + +<p> +Irene lifted her head, and I saw that her fine eyes were filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said, “I am in much trouble, and I know not where +to find a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +I smiled and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Need an Empress seek far for friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Olaf; farther than anyone who breathes. An Empress can find +flatterers and partisans, but not a single friend. Such love her only for what +she can give them. But, if fortune went against her, I say that they would fall +away like leaves from a tree in a winter frost, so that she stood naked to +every bitter blast of heaven. Yes, and then would come the foe and root up that +tree and burn it to give them warmth and to celebrate their triumph. So I +think, Olaf, it will be with me before all is done. Even my son hates me, Olaf, +my only child for whose true welfare I strive night and day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard as much, Augusta,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“You have heard, like all the world. But what else of ill have you heard +of me, Olaf? Speak out, man; I’m here to learn the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard that you are very ambitious, Augusta, and that you hate +your son as much as he hates you, because he is a rival to your power. It is +rumoured that you would be glad if he were dead and you left to reign +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then a lie is rumoured, Olaf. Yet it is true that I am ambitious, who +see far and would build this tottering empire up afresh. Olaf, it is a bitter +thing to have begotten a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do you not marry again and beget others, who might be no fools, +Augusta?” I asked bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! why?” she answered, flashing a curious glance upon me. +“In truth, I do not quite know why; but from no lack of suitors, since, +were she but a hideous hag, an empress would find these. Olaf, you may have +learned that I was not born in the purple. I was but a Greek girl of good race, +not even noble, to whom God gave a gift of beauty; and when I was young I saw a +man who took my fancy, also of old race, yet but a merchant of fruits which +they grow in Greece and sell here and at Rome. I wished to marry him, but my +mother, a far-seeing woman, said that such beauty as mine—though less +than that of your Iduna the Fair, Olaf—was worth money or rank. So they +sent away my merchant of fruits, who married the daughter of another merchant +of fruits and throve very well in business. He came to see me some years ago, +fat as a tub, his face scored all over with the marks of the spotted sickness, +and we talked about old times. I gave him a concession to import dried fruits +into Byzantium—that is what he came to see me for—and now +he’s dead. Well, my mother was right, for afterwards this poor beauty of +mine took the fancy of the late Emperor, and, being very pious, he married me. +So the Greek girl, by the will of God, became Augusta and the first woman in +the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the will of God?” I repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I suppose so, or else all is raw chance. At least, I, who to-day +might have been bargaining over dried fruits, as I should have done had I won +my will, am—what you know. Look at this robe,” and she spread her +glittering dress before me. “Hark to the tramp of those guards before my +door. Why, you are their captain. Go into the antechambers, and see the +ambassadors waiting there in the hope of a word with the Ruler of the Earth! +Look at my legions mustered on the drilling-grounds, and understand how great +the Grecian girl has grown by virtue of the face which is less beauteous than +that of—Iduna the Fair!” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand all this, Augusta,” I answered. “Yet it would +seem that you are not happy. Did you not tell me just now that you could not +find a friend and that you had begotten a fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“Happy, Olaf? Why, I am wretched, so wretched that often I think the hell +of which the priests preach is here on earth, and that I dwell in its hottest +fires. Unless love hides it, what happiness is there in this life of ours, +which must end in blackest death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Love has its miseries also, Augusta. That I know, for once I +loved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, but then the love was not true, for this is the greatest curse of +all—to love and not to be beloved. For the sake of a perfect love, if it +could be won—why, I’d sacrifice even my ambition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must keep your ambition, Augusta, since in this world +you’ll find nothing perfect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I’m not so sure. Thoughts have come to me. Olaf, I told you +that I have no friend in all this glittering Court. Will you be my +friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am your honest servant, Augusta, and I think that such a one is the +best of friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so; and yet no man can be true friend to a woman unless he +is—more than friend. Nature has writ it so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that you will not understand, and perhaps you are wise. Why do +you stare at that pavement? There’s a story written on it. The old +goddess of my people, Aphrodite, loved a certain Adonis—so runs the +fable—but he loved not her, and thought only of his sports. Look, she +woos him there, and he rejects her, and in her rage she stabs him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” I answered. “Of the end of the story I know +nothing, but, if she had meant to kill him, the dagger would be in her right +hand, not in her left.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, Olaf; and in the end it was Fate which killed him, +not the goddess whom he had scorned. And yet, Olaf, it is not wise to scorn +goddesses. Oh! of what do I talk? You’ll befriend me, will you +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Augusta, to the last drop of my blood, as is my duty. Do I not take +your pay?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thus I seal our friendship and here’s an earnest of the +pay,” Irene said slowly, and, bending forward, she kissed me on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the doors of the chamber were thrown open. Through them, +preceded by heralds, that at once drew back again, entered the great minister +Stauracius, a fat, oily-faced man with a cunning eye, who announced in a high, +thin voice, +</p> + +<p> +“The ambassadors of the Persians wait upon you, Augusta, as you appointed +at this hour.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER II<br/> +THE BLIND CÆSAR</h2> + +<p> +Irene turned upon the eunuch as a she-lion turns upon some hunter that disturbs +it from its prey. Noting the anger in her eyes, he fell back and prostrated +himself. Thereupon she spoke to me as though his entry had interrupted her +words. +</p> + +<p> +“Those are the orders, Captain Olaf. See that you forget none of them. +Even if this proud eunuch, who dares to appear before me unannounced, bids you +to do so, I shall hold you to account. To-day I leave the city for a while for +the Baths whither I am sent. You must not accompany me because of the duty I +have laid upon you here. When I return, be sure I’ll summon you,” +and, knowing that Stauracius could not see her from where he lay, for a moment +she let her splendid eyes meet my own. In them there was a message I could not +mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“The Augusta shall be obeyed,” I answered, saluting. “May the +Augusta return in health and glory and more beautiful than——” +</p> + +<p> +“Iduna the Fair!” she broke in. “Captain, you are +dismissed.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I saluted, retreating from the presence backwards and staying to bow at +each third step, as was the custom. The process was somewhat long, and as I +reached the door I heard her say to Stauracius, +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken, you dog. If ever you dare to break in upon me thus again, you +shall lose two things—your office and your head. What! May I not give +secret orders to my trusted officer and not be spied upon by you? Now, cease +your grovellings and lead in these Persians, as you have been bribed to +do.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the silk-clad, bejewelled Persians who waited in an antechamber +with their slaves and gifts, I gained the great terrace of the palace which +looked upon the sea. Here I found Martina leaning on the parapet. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you more of the Augusta’s pearls about you, Olaf?” she +asked mockingly, speaking over her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Not I, Martina,” I answered, halting beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed. I could have sworn otherwise, for they are perfumed, and I +seemed to catch their odour. When did you begin to use the royal scent upon +that yellow beard of yours, Olaf? If any of us women did so, it would mean +blows and exile; but perchance a captain of the guard may be forgiven.” +</p> + +<p> +“I use no scents, girl, as you know well. Yet it is true that these rooms +reek of them, and they cling to armour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and still more to hair. Well, what gift had my mistress for you +to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“A commission to guard certain prisoners, Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Have you read it yet? When you do, I think you’ll find that it +names you Governor of the jail, which is a high office, carrying much pay and +place. You are in good favour, Olaf, and I hope that when you come to greatness +you will not forget Martina. It was I who put it into a certain mind to give +you this commission as the only man that could be trusted in the Court.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not forget a friend, Martina,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“That is your reputation, Olaf. Oh! what a road is opening to your feet. +Yet I doubt you’ll not walk it, being too honest; or, if you do, that it +will lead you—not to glory, but a grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap, Martina, and to speak truth, a grave is the only quiet place in +Constantinople. Mayhap, too, it hides the only real glory.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what we Christians say. It would be strange if you, who are +not a Christian, alone should believe and keep the saying. Oh!” She went +on with passion, “we are but shams and liars, whom God must hate. Well, I +go to make ready for this journey to the Baths.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long do you stay there?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The course of waters takes a month. Less than that time does not serve +to clear the Augusta’s skin and restore her shape to the lines of youth +which it begins to need, though doubtless you do not think so. You were named +to come as her officer of the Person; but, Olaf, this other business rose up of +a new governor for the jail in which the Cæsars and <i>Nobilissimi</i> are +confined. I saw a chance for you in it, who, although you have served all these +years, have had no real advancement, and mentioned your name, at which the +Augusta leapt. To tell the truth, Olaf, I was not sure that you would wish to +be captain of the guard at the Baths. Was I right or was I wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you were right, Martina. Baths are idle places where folk drift +into trouble, and I follow duty. Martina—may I say it to you?—you +are a good woman and a kind. I pray that those gods of yours whom you worship +may bless you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You pray in vain, Olaf, for that they will never do. Indeed, I think +that they have cursed me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly she burst into tears, and, turning, went away. +</p> + +<p> +I, too, went away somewhat bewildered, for much had happened to me that morning +which I found it hard to understand. Why had the Augusta kissed me? I took it +that this was some kind of imperial jest. It was known that I kept aloof from +women, and she may have desired to see what I should do when an Augusta kissed +me, and then to make a mock of me. I had heard that she had done as much with +others. +</p> + +<p> +Well, let that be, since Stauracius, who always feared lest a new favourite +should slip between him and power, had settled the matter for me, for which I +blessed Stauracius, although at the moment, being but a man, I had cursed him. +And now why did Martina—the little, dark Martina with the kind face and +the watchful, beady eyes, like to those of a robin in our northern +lands—speak as she had done, and then burst into tears? +</p> + +<p> +A doubt struck me, but I, who was never vain, pushed it aside. I did not +understand, and of what use was it to try to interpret the meaning of the moods +of women? My business was war, or, at the moment, the service that has to do +with war, not women. Wars had brought me to the rank I held, though, strangely +enough, of those wars I can recall nothing now; they have vanished from my +vision. To wars also I looked to advance me in the future, who was no courtier, +but a soldier, whom circumstances had brought to Court. Well, thanks to +Martina, as she said, or to some caprice of the Empress, I had a new commission +that was of more worth to me than her random kisses, and I would go to read it. +</p> + +<p> +Read it I did in the little private room upon the palace wall which was mine as +captain of the Augusta’s guard, though, being written in Greek, I found +this difficult. Martina had spoken truly. I was made the Governor of the State +prison, with all authority, including that of life and death should emergency +arise. Moreover, this governorship gave me the rank of a general, with a +general’s pay, also such pickings as I chose to take. In short, from +captain of the guard, suddenly I had become a great man in Constantinople, one +with whom even Stauracius and others like him would have to reckon, especially +as his signature appeared upon the commission beneath that of the Empress. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst I was wondering what I should do next, a trumpet blew upon the ramparts, +and a Northman of my company entered, saluted and said that I was summoned. I +went out, and there before me stood a dazzling band that bowed humbly to me, +whom yesterday they would have passed without notice. Their captain, a +smooth-faced Greek, came forward, and, addressing me as “General,” +said the imperial orders were that he was to escort me to the State jail. +</p> + +<p> +“For what purpose?” I asked, since it came to my mind that Irene +might have changed her fancy and issued another kind of commission. +</p> + +<p> +“As its General and Governor, Illustrious,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will lead,” I answered, “do you follow behind +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus that vision ends. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +In the next I see myself dwelling in some stately apartments that formed the +antechambers to the great prison. This prison, which was situated not far from +the Forum of Constantine, covered a large area of ground, which included a +garden where the prisoners were allowed to walk. It was surrounded by a double +wall, with an outer and an inner moat, the outer dry, and the inner filled with +water. There were double gates also, and by them guard-towers. Moreover, I see +a little yard, with posts in it, where prisoners were scourged, and a small and +horrible room, furnished with a kind of wooden bed, to which they were bound +for the punishment of the putting out of their eyes and the slitting of their +tongues. In front of this room was a block where those condemned to death were +sometimes executed. +</p> + +<p> +There were many prisoners, not common felons, but people who had been taken for +reasons of State or sometimes of religion. Perhaps in all they numbered a +hundred men, and with them a few women, who had a quarter to themselves. +Besides the jailers, three-score guards were stationed there night and day, and +of all of these I was in command. +</p> + +<p> +Before I had held my office three days I found that Irene had appointed me to +it with good reason. It happened thus. The most of the prisoners were allowed +to receive presents of food and other things sent to them by their friends. All +these presents were supposed to be inspected by the officer in charge of the +prison. This rule, which had been much neglected, I enforced again, with the +result that I made some strange discoveries. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, on the third day, there came a magnificent offering of figs for the +Cæsars and <i>Nobilissimi</i>, the brothers-in-law of Irene and the uncles of +the young Emperor Constantine, her son. These figs were being carried past me +formally, when something about the appearance of one of them excited my +suspicion. I took it and offered it to the jailer who carried the basket. He +looked frightened, shook his head, and said, +</p> + +<p> +“General, I touch no fruit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” I answered. “That is strange, since I thought that +I saw you eating of it yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, General,” he replied; “the truth is that I ate too +much.” +</p> + +<p> +Making no answer, I went to the window, and threw the fig to a long-tailed, +tame monkey which was chained to a post in the yard without. It caught it and +ate greedily. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not go away, friend,” I said to the jailer, who was trying to +depart while my back was turned. “I have questions that I would ask +you.” +</p> + +<p> +So I spoke to him about other matters, and all the while watched the monkey. +</p> + +<p> +Soon I saw that it was ill at ease. It began to tear at its stomach and to +whimper like a child. Then it foamed at the mouth, was seized with convulsions, +and within a quarter of an hour by the water-clock was dead. +</p> + +<p> +“It would seem that those figs are poisoned, friend,” I said, +“and therefore it is fortunate for you that you ate too much fruit +yesterday. Now, man, what do you know of this matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, sir,” he answered, falling on his knees. “I swear +to you by Christ, nothing. Only I doubted. The fruits were brought by a woman +whom I thought that once I had seen in the household of the Augustus +Constantine, and I knew——” and he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what did you know, man? It would be best to tell me quickly, who +have power here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew, sir, what all the world knows, that Constantine would be rid of +his uncles, whom he fears, though they are maimed. No more, I swear it, no +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps before the Augusta returns you may remember something +more,” I said. “Therefore, I will not judge your case at present. +Ho! guard, come hither.” +</p> + +<p> +As he heard the soldiers stirring without in answer to my summons, the man, who +was unarmed, looked about his desperately; then he sprang at the fruit, and, +seizing a fig, strove to thrust it into his mouth. But I was too quick for him, +and within a few seconds the soldiers had him fast. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut this man in a safe dungeon,” I said. “Treat and feed +him well, but search him. See also that he does himself no harm and that none +speak with him. Then forget all this business.” +</p> + +<p> +“What charge must be entered in the book, General?” asked the +officer, saluting. +</p> + +<p> +“A charge of stealing figs that belonged to the Cæsar Nicephorus and his +royal brethren,” I answered, and looked through the window. +</p> + +<p> +He followed my glance, saw the poor monkey lying dead, and started. +</p> + +<p> +“All shall be done,” he said, and the man was led away. +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, I sent for the physician of the jail, whom I knew to be +trustworthy, since I had appointed him myself. Without telling him anything, I +bade him examine and preserve the figs, and also dissect the body of the monkey +to discover why it died. +</p> + +<p> +He bowed and went away with the fruit. A while later he returned, and showed me +an open fig. In the heart of it was a pinch of white powder. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The deadliest poison that is known, General. See, the stalk has been +drawn out, the powder blown in through a straw, and then the stalk +replaced.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” I said, “that is clever, but not quite clever enough. +They have mixed the stalks. I noted that the purple fig had the stalk of a +green fig, and that is why I tried it on the monkey.” +</p> + +<p> +“You observe well, General.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Physician, I observe. I learned that when, as a lad, I hunted game +in the far North. Also I learned to keep silent, since noise frightens game. Do +you as much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear,” he answered; and went about his business with the +dead monkey. +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone I thought a while. Then I rose, and went to the chapel of the +prison, or, rather, to a place whence I could see those in the chapel without +being seen. This chapel was situated in a gloomy crypt, lighted only with oil +lamps that hung from the massive pillars and arches. The day was the Sabbath of +the Christians, and when I entered the little secret hollow in the walls, the +sacrament was being administered to certain of the prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +Truly it was a sad sight, for the ministering priest was none other than the +Cæsar Nicephorus, the eldest of the Emperor’s uncles, who had been first +ordained in order that he might be unfit to sit upon the throne, and afterwards +blinded, as I have told. He was a tall, pale man, with an uncertain mouth and a +little pointed chin, apparently between forty and fifty years of age, and his +face was made dreadful by two red hollows where the eyes should have been. Yet, +notwithstanding this disfigurement, and his tonsured crown, and the broidered +priest’s robes which hung upon him awkwardly, as he stumbled through the +words of his office, to this poor victim there still seemed to cling some air +of royal birth and bearing. Being blind, he could not see to administer the +Element, and therefore his hand was guided by one of his imperial brethren, who +also had been made a priest. The tongue of this priest had been slit, but now +and again he gibbered some direction into the ear of Nicephorus. By the altar, +watching all, sat a stern-faced monk, the confessor of the Cæsars and of the +<i>Nobilissimi</i>, who was put there to spy upon them. +</p> + +<p> +I followed the rite to its end, observing these unhappy prisoners seeking from +the mystery of their faith the only consolation that remained to them. Many of +them were men innocent of any crime, save that of adherence to some fallen +cause, political or religious; victims were they, not sinners, to be released +by death alone. I remember that, as the meaning of the scene came home to me, I +recalled the words of Irene, who had said that she believed this world to be a +hell, and found weight in them. At length, able to bear no more, I left my +hiding-place and went into the garden behind the chapel. Here, at least, were +natural things. Here flowers, tended by the prisoners, bloomed as they might +have done in some less accursed spot. Here the free birds sang and nested in +the trees, for what to them were the high surrounding walls? +</p> + +<p> +I sat myself down upon a seat in the shade. Presently, as I had expected, +Nicephorus, the priest-Cæsar, and his four brethren came into the garden. Two +of them led the blind man by the hand, and the other two clung close to him, +for all these unfortunates loved each other dearly. The four with the split +tongues gabbled in his ears. Now and again, when he could catch or guess at the +meaning of a word, he answered the speaker gently; or the others, seeing that +he had not understood them aright, painfully tried to explain the error. Oh! it +was a piteous thing to see and hear. My gorge rose against the young brute of +an Emperor and his councillors who, for ambition’s sake, had wrought this +horrible crime. Little did I know then that ere long their fate would be his +own, and that a mother’s hand would deal it out to him. +</p> + +<p> +They caught sight of me seated beneath the tree, and chattered like startled +starlings, till at length Nicephorus understood. +</p> + +<p> +“What say you, dear brothers?” he asked, “that the new +governor of the prison is seated yonder? Well, why should we fear him? He has +been here but a little while, yet he has shown himself very kind to us. +Moreover, he is a man of the North, no treacherous Greek, and the men of the +North are brave and upright. Once, when I was a free prince, I had some of them +in my service, and I loved them well. Our nephew, the Emperor, offered a large +sum to a Northman to blind or murder me, but he would not do it, and was +dismissed from the service of the Empire because he spoke his mind and prayed +his heathen gods to bring a like fate upon Constantine himself. Lead me to this +governor; I would talk with him.” +</p> + +<p> +So they brought Nicephorus to me, though doubtfully, and when he was near I +rose from my seat and saluted him. Thereon they all gabbled again with their +split tongues, till at length he understood and flushed with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“General Olaf,” he said to me, “I thank you for your courtesy +to a poor prisoner, forgotten by God and cruelly oppressed by man. General +Olaf, the promise is of little worth, but, if ever it should be in my power, I +will remember this kindness, which pleases me more than did the shouting of the +legions in the short day of my prosperity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” I answered, “whatever happens I shall remember your +words, which are more to me than any honours kings can bestow. Now, sir, I will +ask your royal brethren to fall back, as I wish to speak with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Nicephorus made a sign with his hand, and the four half-dumb men, all of whom +resembled him strangely, especially in the weakness of their mouths and chins, +obeyed. Bowing to me in a stately fashion, they withdrew, leaving us alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” I said, “I would warn you that you have enemies whom +you may not suspect, for my duty here wherewith I was charged by the Augusta is +not to oppress but to protect you and your imperial brothers.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I told him the story of the poisoned figs. +</p> + +<p> +When he had heard it, the tears welled from his hollow eyes and ran down his +pale cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Constantine, my brother Leo’s son, has done this,” he said, +“for never will he rest until all of us are in the grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is cruel because he fears you, O Nicephorus, and it is said that your +ambition has given him cause to fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once, General, that was true,” the prince replied. “Once, +foolishly, I did aspire to rule; but it is long ago. Now they have made a +priest of me, and I seek peace only. Can I and my brethren help it if, +mutilated though we are, some still wish to use us against the Emperor? I tell +you that Irene herself is at the back of them. She would set us on high that +afterwards she may throw us down and crush us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am her servant, Prince, and may not listen to such talk, who know only +that she seeks to protect you from your enemies, and for that reason has placed +me here, it seems not in vain. If you would continue to live, I warn you and +your brethren to fly from plots and to be careful of what you eat and +drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not desire to live, General,” he answered. “Oh! that I +might die. Would that I might die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Death is not difficult to find, Prince,” I replied, and left him. +</p> + +<p> +These may seem hard words, but, be it remembered, I was no Christian then, but +a heathen man. To see one who had been great and fallen from his greatness, one +whom Fortune had deserted utterly, whining at Fate like a fretful child, and +yet afraid to seek his freedom, moved me to contempt as well as to pity. +Therefore, I spoke the words. +</p> + +<p> +Yet all the rest of that day they weighed upon my mind, for I knew well how I +should have interpreted them were I in this poor Cæsar’s place. So +heavily did they weigh that, during the following night, an impulse drew me +from my bed and caused me to visit the cells in which these princes were +imprisoned. Four of them were dark and silent, but in that of Nicephorus burned +a light. I listened at the door, and through the key-place heard that the +prisoner within was praying, and sobbing as he prayed. +</p> + +<p> +Then I went away; but when I reached the end of the long passage something drew +me back again. It was as though a hand I could not see were guiding me. I +returned to the door of the cell, and now through it heard choking sounds. +Quickly I shot the bolts and unlocked it with my master-key. This was what I +saw within: +</p> + +<p> +To a bar of the window-place was fastened such a rope as monks wear for a +girdle; at the end of the rope was a noose, and in that noose the head of +Nicephorus. There he hung, struggling. His hands had gripped the rope above his +head, for though he had sought Death, at the last he tried to escape him. Of +such stuff was Nicephorus made. Yet it was too late, or would have been, for as +I entered the place his hands slipped from the thin cord, which tightened round +his throat, choking him. +</p> + +<p> +My sword was at my side. Drawing it, with a blow I cut the rope and caught him +in my arms. Already he was swooning, but I poured water over his face, and, as +his neck remained unbroken, he recovered his breath and senses. +</p> + +<p> +“What play is this, Prince?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“One that you taught me, General,” he answered painfully. +“You said that death could be found. I went to seek him, but at the last +I feared. Oh! I tell you that when I thrust away that stool, my blind eyes were +opened, and I saw the fires of hell and the hands of devils grasping at my soul +to plunge it into them. Blessings be on you who have saved me from those +fires,” and seizing my hand he kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not thank me,” I said, “but thank the God you worship, +for I think that He must have put it into my mind to visit you to-night. Now +swear to me by that God that you will attempt such a deed no more, for if you +will not swear then you must be fettered.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he swore so fervently by his Christ that I was sure he would never break +the oath. After he had sworn I told him how I could not rest because of the +strange fears which oppressed me. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” he said, “without doubt it was God who sent His angel +to you that I might be saved from the most dreadful of all sins. Without doubt +it was God, Who knows you, although you do not know Him.” +</p> + +<p> +After this he fell upon his knees, and, having untied the cut rope from the +window bars, I left him. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Now I tell this story because it has to do with my own, for it was these words +of the Prince that first turned me to the study of the Christian Faith. Indeed, +had they never been spoken, I believe that I should have lived and died a +heathen man. Hitherto I had judged of that Faith by the works of those who +practised it in Constantinople, and found it wanting. Now, however, I was sure +that some Power from above us had guided me to the chamber of Nicephorus in +time to save his life, me, who, had he died, in a sense would have been guilty +of his blood. For had he not been driven to the deed by my bitter, mocking +words? It may be said that this would have mattered little; that he might as +well have died by his own hand as be taken to Athens, there to perish with his +brethren, whether naturally or by murder I do not know. But who can judge of +such secret things? Without doubt the sufferings of Nicephorus had a purpose, +as have all our sufferings. He was kept alive for reasons known to his Maker +though not to man. +</p> + +<p> +Here I will add that of this unhappy Cæsar and his brethren I remember little +more. Dimly I seem to recollect that during my period of office some attack was +made upon the prison by those who would have put the prince to death, but that +I discovered the plot through the jailer who had introduced the poisoned figs, +and defeated it with ease, thereby gaining much credit with Irene and her +ministers. If so, of this plot history says nothing. All it tells of these +princes is that afterwards a mob haled them to the Cathedral of St. Sophia and +there proclaimed Nicephorus emperor. But they were taken again, and at last +shipped to Athens, where they vanished from the sight of men. +</p> + +<p> +God rest their tortured souls, for they were more sinned against than sinning. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER III<br/> +MOTHER AND SON</h2> + +<p> +The next vision of this Byzantine life of mine that rises before me is that of +a great round building crowned with men clad in bishops’ robes. At least +they wore mitres, and each of them had a crooked pastoral staff which in most +cases was carried by an attendant monk. +</p> + +<p> +Some debate was in progress, or rather raging. Its subject seemed to be as to +whether images should or should not be worshipped in churches. It was a furious +thing, that debate. One party to it were called Iconoclasts, that was the party +which did not like images, and I think the other party were called Orthodox, +but of this I am not sure. So furious was it that I, the general and governor +of the prison, had been commanded by those in authority to attend in order to +prevent violence. The beginnings of what happened I do not remember. What I do +remember is that the anti-Iconoclasts, the party to which the Empress Irene +belonged, that was therefore the fashionable sect, being, as it seemed to me, +worsted in argument, fell back on violence. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a great tumult, in which the spectators took part, and the +strange sight was seen of priests and their partisans, and even of bishops +themselves, falling upon their adversaries and beating them with whatever +weapon was to hand; yes, even with their pastoral staves. It was a wonderful +thing to behold, these ministers of the Christ of peace belabouring each other +with pastoral staves! +</p> + +<p> +The party that advocated the worship of images was the more numerous and had +the greater number of adherents, and therefore those who thought otherwise were +defeated. A few of them were dragged out into the street and killed by the mob +which waited there, and more were wounded, notwithstanding all that I and the +guards could do to protect them. Among the Iconoclasts was a gentle-faced old +man with a long beard, one of the bishops from Egypt, who was named Barnabas. +He had said little in the debate, which lasted for several days, and when he +spoke his words were full of charity and kindness. Still, the image faction +hated him, and when the final tumult began some of them set upon him. Indeed, +one brawny, dark-faced bishop—I think it was he of Antioch—rushed +at Barnabas, and before I could thrust him back, broke a jewelled staff upon +his head, while other priests tore his robe from neck to shoulder and spat in +his face. +</p> + +<p> +At last the riot was quelled; the dead were borne away, and orders came to me +that I was to convey Barnabas to the State prison if he still lived, together +with some others, of whom I remember nothing. So thither I took Barnabas, and +there, with the help of the prison physician—he to whom I had given the +poisoned figs and the dead monkey to be examined—I nursed him back to +life and health. +</p> + +<p> +His illness was long, for one of the blows which he had received crippled him, +and during it we talked much together. He was a very sweet-natured man and +holy, a native of Britain, whose father or grandfather had been a Dane, and +therefore there was a tie between us. In his youth he was a soldier. Having +been taken prisoner in some war, he came to Italy, where he was ordained a +priest at Rome. Afterwards he was sent as a missionary to Egypt, where he was +appointed the head of a monastery, and in the end elected to a bishopric. But +he had never forgotten the Danish tongue, which his parents taught him as a +child, and so we were able to talk together in that language. +</p> + +<p> +Now it would seem that since that night when the Cæsar Nicephorus strove to +hang himself, I had obtained and studied a copy of the Christian +Scriptures—how I do not know—and therefore was able to discuss +these matters with Barnabas the bishop. Of our arguments I remember nothing, +save that I pointed out to him that whereas the tree seemed to me to be very +good, its fruits were vile beyond imagination, and I instanced the horrible +tumult when he had been wounded almost to death, not by common men, but by the +very leaders of the Christians. +</p> + +<p> +He answered that these things must happen; that Christ Himself had said He came +to bring not peace but a sword, and that only through war and struggle would +the last truth be reached. The spirit was always good, he added, but the flesh +was always vile. These deeds were those of the flesh, which passed away, but +the spirit remained pure and immortal. +</p> + +<p> +The end of it was that under the teaching of the holy Barnabas, saint and +martyr (for afterwards he was murdered by the followers of the false prophet, +Mahomet), I became a Christian and a new man. Now at length I understood what +grace it was that had given me courage to offer battle to the heathen god, +Odin, and to smite him down. Now I saw also where shone the light which I had +been seeking these many years. Aye, and I clasped that light to my bosom to be +my lamp in life and death. +</p> + +<p> +So a day came when my beloved master, Barnabas, who would allow no delay in +this matter, baptised me in his cell with water taken from his drinking vessel, +charging me to make public profession before the Church when opportunity should +arise. +</p> + +<p> +It was just at this time that Irene returned from the Baths, and I sent to her +a written report of all that had happened at the prison since I had been +appointed its governor. Also I prayed that if it were her will I might be +relieved of my office, as it was one which did not please me. +</p> + +<p> +A few days later, while I sat in my chamber at the prison writing a paper +concerning a prisoner who had died, the porter at the gate announced that a +messenger from the Augusta wished to see me. I bade him show in the messenger, +and presently there entered no chamberlain or eunuch, but a woman wrapped in a +dark cloak. When the man had gone and the door was shut, she threw off the +cloak and I saw that my visitor was Martina, the favourite waiting-lady of the +Empress. We greeted each other warmly, who were always friends, and I asked her +tidings. +</p> + +<p> +“My tidings are, Olaf, that the waters have suited the Augusta very well. +She has lost several pounds in weight and her skin is now like that of a young +child.” +</p> + +<p> +“All health to the Augusta!” I said, laughing. “But you have +not come here to tell me of the state of the royal skin. What next, +Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“This, Olaf. The Empress has read your report with her own eyes, which is +a rare thing for her to do. She said she wished to see whether or no you could +write Greek. She is much pleased with the report, and told Stauracius in my +presence that she had done well in choosing you for your office while she was +absent from the city, since thereby she had saved the lives of the Cæsars and +<i>Nobilissimi</i>, desiring as she does that these princes should be kept +alive, at any rate for the present. She accedes also to your prayer, and will +relieve you of your office as soon as a new governor can be chosen. You are to +return to guard her person, but with your rank of general confirmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is all good news, Martina; so good that I wonder what sting is +hidden in all this honey.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you will find out presently, Olaf. One I can warn you of, +however—the sting of jealousy. Advancement such as yours draws eyes to +you, not all of them in love.” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded and she went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Meantime your star seems to shine very bright indeed. One might almost +say that the Augusta worshipped it, at least she talks of you to me +continually, and once or twice was in half a mind to send for you to the Baths. +Indeed, had it not been for reasons of State connected with your prisoners I +think she would have done so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” I said, “now I think I begin to feel another sting in +the honey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another sting in the honey! Nay, nay, you mean a divine perfume, an +essence of added sweetness, a flavour of the flowers on Mount Ida. Why, Olaf, +if I were your enemy, as I dare say I shall be some day, for often we learn to +hate those whom we have—rather liked, your head and your shoulders might +bid good-bye to each other for such words as those.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, Martina; and if they did I do not know that it would greatly +matter—now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not greatly matter, when you are driving at full gallop along +Fortune’s road to Fame’s temple with an Empress for your +charioteer! Are you blind or mad, Olaf, or both? And what do you mean by your +‘now’? Olaf, something has happened to you since last we met. Have +you fallen in love with some fair prisoner in this hateful place and been +repulsed? Such a fool as you are might take refusal even from a captive in his +own hands. At least you are different.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Martina, something has happened to me. I have become a +Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Olaf, now I see that you are not a fool, as I thought, but very +clever. Why, only yesterday the Augusta said to me—it was after she had +read that report of yours—that if you were but a Christian she would be +minded to lift you high indeed. But as you remained the most obstinate of +heathens she did not see how it could be done without causing great +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I wish one could be a Christian within and remain a pagan +without,” I answered grimly; “though alas! that may not be. +Martina, do you not understand that it was for no such reasons as these that I +kissed the Cross; that in so doing I sought not fortune, but to be its +servant?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the Saints! you’ll be tonsured next, and ill enough it would +suit you,” she exclaimed. “Remember, if things grow +too—difficult, you can always be tonsured, Olaf. Only then you will have +to give up the hope of that lady who wears the other half of the necklace +somewhere. I don’t mean Irene’s sham half, but the real one. Oh! +stop blushing and stammering, I know the story, and all about Iduna the Fair +also. An exalted person told it me, and so did you, although you were not aware +that you had done so, for you are not one who can keep a secret to himself. May +all the guardian angels help that necklace-lady if ever she should meet another +lady whom I will not name. And now why do you talk so much? Are you learning to +preach, or what? If you really do mean to become a monk, Olaf, there is another +thing you must give up, and that is war, except of the kind which you saw at +the Council the other day. God above us! what a sight it would be to see you +battering another bishop with a hook-shaped staff over a question of images or +the Two Natures. I should be sorry for that bishop. But you haven’t told +me who converted you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Barnabas of Egypt,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I hoped that it had been a lady saint; the story would have been so +much more interesting to the Court. Well, our imperial mistress does not like +Barnabas, because he does not like images, and that may be a sting in +<i>her</i> honey. But perhaps she will forgive him for your sake. You’ll +have to worship images.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do I care about images? It is the spirit that I seek, Martina, and +all these things are nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are thorough, as usual, Olaf, and jump farther than you can see. +Well, be advised and say naught for or against images. As they have no meaning +for you, what can it matter if they are or are not there? Leave them to the +blind eyes and little minds. And now I must be gone, who can listen to your +gossip no longer. Oh! I had forgotten my message. The Augusta commands that you +shall wait on her this evening immediately after she has supped. Hear and +obey!” +</p> + +<p> +Having delivered this formal mandate, to neglect which meant imprisonment, or +worse, she threw her cloak about her, and with a wondering glance at my face, +opened the door and went. +</p> + +<p> +At the hour appointed, or, rather, somewhat before it, I attended at the +private apartments of the palace. Evidently I was expected, for one of the +chamberlains, on seeing me, bowed and bade me be seated, then left the +ante-room. Presently the door opened again, and through it came Martina, clad +in her white official robe. +</p> + +<p> +“You are early, Olaf,” she said, “like a lover who keeps a +tryst. Well, it is always wise to meet good fortune half way. But why do you +come clad in full armour? It is not the custom to wait thus upon the Empress at +this hour when you are off duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that I was on duty, Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, as usual, you thought wrong. Take off that armour; she says that +the sight of it always makes her feel cold after supper. I say take it off; or +if you cannot, I will help you.” +</p> + +<p> +So the mail was removed, leaving me clad in my plain blue tunic and hose. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you have me come before the Empress thus?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +By way of answer she clapped her hands and bade the eunuch who answered the +signal to bring a certain robe. He went, and presently reappeared with a +wondrous garment of silk broidered with gold, such as nobles of high rank wore +at festivals. This robe, which fitted as though it had been made for me, I put +on, though I liked the look of it little. Martina would have had me even remove +my sword, but I refused, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Except at the express order of the Empress, I and my sword are not +parted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she said nothing about the sword, Olaf, so let it be. All she said +was that I must be careful that the robe matched the colour of the necklace you +wear. She cannot bear colours which jar upon each other, especially by +lamp-light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I a man,” I asked angrily, “or a beast being decked for +sacrifice?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fie, Olaf, have you not yet forgotten your heathen talk? Remember, I +pray you, that you are now a Christian in a Christian land.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you for reminding me of it,” I replied; and that moment a +chamberlain, entering hurriedly, commanded my presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Good luck to you, Olaf,” said Martina as I followed him. “Be +sure to tell me the news later—or to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the chamberlain led me, not into the audience hall, as I had expected, but +to the private imperial dining chamber. Here, reclining upon couches in the old +Roman fashion, one on either side of a narrow table on which stood fruits and +flagons of rich-hued Greek wine, were the two greatest people in the world, the +Augusta Irene and the Augustus Constantine, her son. +</p> + +<p> +She was wonderfully apparelled in a low-cut garment of white silk, over which +fell a mantle of the imperial purple, and I noted that on her dazzling bosom +hung that necklace of emerald beetles separated by golden shells which she had +caused to be copied from my own. On her fair hair that grew low upon her +forehead and was parted in the middle, she wore a diadem of gold in which were +set emeralds to match the beetles of the necklace. The Augustus was arrayed in +the festal garments of a Cæsar, also covered with a purple cloak. He was a +heavy-faced and somewhat stupid-looking youth, dark-haired, like his father and +uncles, but having large, blue, and not unkindly eyes. From his flushed face I +gathered that he had drunk well of the strong Greek wine, and from the sullen +look about his mouth that, as was common, he had been quarrelling with his +mother. +</p> + +<p> +I stood at the end of the table and saluted first the Empress and then the +Emperor. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s this?” he asked, glancing at me. +</p> + +<p> +“General Olaf, of my guard,” she answered, “Governor of the +State Prison. You remember, you wished me to send for him to settle the point +as to which we were arguing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! yes. Well, General Olaf, of my mother’s guard, have you not +been told that you should salute the Augustus before the Augusta?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” I answered humbly, “I have heard nothing of that +matter, but in the land where I was bred I was taught that if a man and a woman +were together I must always bow first to the woman and then to the man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well said,” exclaimed the Empress, clapping her hands; but the +Emperor answered: “Doubtless your mother taught you that, not your +father. Next time you enter the imperial chamber be pleased to forget the +lesson and to remember that Emperors and Empresses are not men and +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” I answered, “as you command I will remember that +Emperors and Empresses are not men and women, but Emperors and +Empresses.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words the Augustus began to scowl, but, changing his mind, laughed, as +did his mother. He filled a gold cup with wine and pushed it towards me, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Drink to us, soldier, for after you have done so, our wits may be better +matched.” +</p> + +<p> +I took the cup and holding it, said: +</p> + +<p> +“I pledge your Imperial Majesties, who shine upon the world like twin +stars in the sky. All hail to your Majesties!” and I drank, but not too +deep. +</p> + +<p> +“You are clever,” growled the Augustus. “Well, keep the cup; +you’ve earned it. Yet drain it first, man. You have scarce wet your lips. +Do you fear that it is poisoned, as you say yonder fruits are?” And he +pointed to a side-table, where stood a jar of glass in which were those very +figs that had been sent to the princes in the prison. +</p> + +<p> +“The cup you give is mine,” interrupted Irene; “still, my +servant is welcome to the gift. It shall be sent to your quarters, +General.” +</p> + +<p> +“A soldier has no need of such gauds, your Majesties,” I began, +when Constantine, who, while we spoke, had swallowed another draught of the +strong wine, broke in angrily: +</p> + +<p> +“May I not give a cup of gold but you must claim it, I to whom the Empire +and all its wealth belong?” +</p> + +<p> +Snatching up the beaker he dashed it to the floor, spilling the wine, of which +I, who wished to keep my head cool, was glad. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done,” he went on in his drunken rage. “Shall the +Cæsars huckster over a piece of worked gold like Jews in a market? Give me +those figs, man; I’ll settle the matter of this poison.” +</p> + +<p> +I brought the jar of figs, and, bowing, set them down before him. That they +were the same I knew, for the glass was labelled in my own writing and in that +of the physician. He cut away the sealed parchment which was stretched over the +mouth of the jar. +</p> + +<p> +“Now hearken you, Olaf,” he said. “It is true that I ordered +fruit to be sent to that fool-Cæsar, my uncle, because the last time I saw him +Nicephorus prayed me for it, and I was willing to do him a pleasure. But that I +ordered the fruit to be poisoned, as my mother says, is a lie, and may God +curse the tongue that spoke it. I will show you that it was a lie,” and +plunging his hand into the spirit in the jar, he drew out two of the figs. +“Now,” he went on, waving them about in a half-drunken fashion, +“this General Olaf of yours says that these are the same figs which were +sent to the Cæsar, I mean the blind priest, Father Nicephorus. Don’t you, +Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sire,” I answered, “they were placed in that bottle in +my presence and sealed with my seal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, those figs were sent by me, and this Olaf tells us they are +poisoned. I’ll show him, and you too, mother, that they are <i>not</i> +poisoned, for I will eat one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I looked at the Augusta, but she sat silent, her arms folded on her white +bosom, her handsome face turned as it were to stone. +</p> + +<p> +Constantine lifted the fig towards his loose mouth. Again I looked at the +Augusta. Still she sat there like a statue, and it came into my mind that it +was her purpose to allow this wine-bemused man to eat the fig. Then I acted. +</p> + +<p> +“Augustus,” I said, “you must not touch that fruit,” +and stepping forward I took it from his hand. +</p> + +<p> +He sprang to his feet and began to revile me. +</p> + +<p> +“You watch-dog of the North!” he shouted. “Do you dare to say +to the Emperor that he shall not do this or that? By all the images my mother +worships I’ll have you whipped through the Circus.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you will never do,” I answered, for my free blood boiled at +the insult. “I tell you, Sire,” I went on, leaving out certain +words which I meant to speak, “that the fig is poisoned.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I tell you that you lie, you heathen savage. See here! Either you +eat that fig or I do, so that we may know who speaks the truth. If you +won’t, I will. Now obey, or, by Christ! to-morrow you shall be shorter by +a head.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Augustus is pleased to threaten, which is unnecessary,” I +remarked. “If I eat the fig, will the Augustus swear to leave the rest of +them uneaten?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he answered with a hiccough, “for then I shall know +the truth, and for the truth I live, though,” he added, “I +haven’t found it yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I do not eat it, will the Augustus do so?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the Holy Blood, yes. I’ll eat a dozen of them. Am I one to be +hectored by a woman and a barbarian? Eat, or I eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, Sire. It is better that a barbarian should die than that the world +should lose its glorious Emperor. I eat, and when you are as I soon shall be, +as will happen even to an emperor, may my blood lie heavy on your soul, the +blood which I give to save your life.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I lifted the fig to my lips. +</p> + +<p> +Before ever it touched them, with a motion swift as that of a panther springing +on its prey, Irene had leapt from her couch and dashed the fruit from my hand. +She turned upon her son. +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of a thing are you,” she asked, “who would suffer +a brave man to poison himself that he may save your worthless life? Oh! God, +what have I done that I should have given birth to such a hound? Whoever +poisoned them, these fruits are poisoned, as has been proved and can be proved +again, yes, and shall be. I tell you that if Olaf had tasted one of them by now +he would have been dead or dying.” +</p> + +<p> +Constantine drank another cup of wine, which, oddly enough, seemed to sober him +for the moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I find all this strange,” he said heavily. “You, my mother, +would have suffered me to eat the fig which you declare is poisoned; a matter +whereof you may know something. But when the General Olaf offers to eat it in +my place, with your own royal hand you dash it from his lips, as he dashed it +from mine. And there is another thing which is still more strange. This Olaf, +who also says the figs are poisoned, offered to eat one of them if I promised I +would not do so, which means, if he is right, that he offered to give his life +for mine. Yet I have done nothing for him except call him hard names; and as he +is your servant he has nothing to look for from me if I should win the fight +with you at last. Now I have heard much talk of miracles, but this is the only +one I have ever seen. Either Olaf is a liar, or he is a great man and a saint. +He says, I am told, that the monkey which ate one of those figs died. Well, I +never thought of it before, but there are more monkeys in the palace. Indeed, +one lives on the terrace near by, for I fed it this afternoon. We’ll put +the matter to the proof and learn of what stuff this Olaf is really +made.” +</p> + +<p> +On the table stood a silver bell, and as he spoke he struck it. A chamberlain +entered and was ordered to bring in the monkey. He departed, and with +incredible swiftness the beast and its keeper arrived. It was a large animal of +the baboon tribe, famous throughout the palace for its tricks. Indeed, on +entering, at a word from the man who led it, it bowed to all of us. +</p> + +<p> +“Give your beast these,” said the Emperor, handing the keeper +several of the figs. +</p> + +<p> +The baboon took the fruits and, having sniffed at them, put them aside. Then +the keeper fed it with some sweetmeats, which it caught and devoured, and +presently, when its fears were allayed, threw it one of the figs, which it +swallowed, doubtless thinking it a sweetmeat. A minute or two later it began to +show signs of distress and shortly afterwards died in convulsions. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Irene, “now do you believe, my son?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, “I believe that there is a saint in +Constantinople. Sir Saint, I salute you. You have saved my life and if it +should come my way, by your brother saints! I’ll save yours, although you +are my mother’s servant.” +</p> + +<p> +So speaking, he drank off yet another cup of wine and reeled from the room. +</p> + +<p> +The keeper, at a sign from Irene, lifted up the body of the dead ape and also +left the chamber, weeping as he went, for he had loved this beast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER IV<br/> +OLAF OFFERS HIS SWORD</h2> + +<p> +The Emperor had gone, drunk; the ape had gone, dead; and its keeper had gone, +weeping. Irene and I alone were left in that beautiful place with the +wine-stained table on which stood the jar of poisoned figs and the bent golden +cup lying on the marble floor. +</p> + +<p> +She sat upon the couch, looking at me with a kind of amazement in her eyes, and +I stood before her at attention, as does a soldier on duty. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder why he did not send for one of my servants to eat those +figs—Stauracius, for instance,” she mused, adding with a little +laugh, “Well, if he had, there are some whom I could have spared better +than that poor ape, which at times I used to feed. It was an honest creature, +that ape; the only creature in the palace that would not rub its head in the +dust before the Augusta. Ah! now I remember, it always hated Constantine, for +when he was a child he used to tease it with a stick, getting beyond the length +of its chain and striking it. But one day, as he passed too near, it caught him +and buffeted him on the cheek and tore out some of his hair. He wanted to kill +it then, but I forbade him. Yet he has never forgotten it, he who never does +forget anything he hates, and that is why he sent for the poor beast.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Augusta will remember that the Augustus did not know that the figs +were poisoned.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Augusta is sure that the Augustus knew well enough that those figs +were poisoned, at any rate from the moment that I dashed one of them from your +lips, Olaf. Well, I have made a bitterer enemy than before, that’s all. +They say that by Nature’s rule mother and child must love each other, but +it is a lie. I tell you it’s a lie. From the time he was tiny I hated +that boy, though not half as much as he has hated me. You are thinking to +yourself that this is because our ambitions clash like meeting swords, and that +from them spring these fires of hate. It is not so. The hate is native to our +hearts, and will only end when one of us lies dead at the other’s +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Terrible words, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but true. Truth is always terrible—in Byzantium. Olaf, take +those drugged fruits and set them in the drawer of yonder table; lock it and +guard the key, lest they should poison other honest animals.” +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed and returned to my station. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at me and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I grow weary of the sight of you standing there like a statue of the +Roman Mars, with your sword half hid beneath your cloak; and, what’s +more, I hate this hall; it reeks of Constantine and his drink and lies. Oh! +he’s vile, and for my sins God has made me his mother, unless, indeed, he +was changed at birth, as I’ve been told, though I could never prove it. +Give me your hand and help me to rise. So, I thank you. Now follow me. +We’ll sit a while in my private chamber, where alone I can be happy, +since the Emperor never comes there. Nay, talk not of duty; you have no guards +to set or change to-night. Follow me; I have secret business of which I would +talk with you.” +</p> + +<p> +So she went and I followed through doors that opened mysteriously at our +approach and shut mysteriously behind us, till I found myself in a little room +half-lighted only, that I had never seen before. It was a scented and a +beautiful place, in one corner of which a white statue gleamed, that of a Venus +kissing Cupid, who folded one wing about her head, and through the open +window-place the moonlight shone and floated the murmur of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +The double doors were shut, for aught I knew locked, and with her own hands +Irene drew the curtains over them. Near the open window, to which there was no +balcony, stood a couch. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit yonder, Olaf,” she said, “for here there is no ceremony; +here we are but man and woman.” +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed, while she busied herself with the curtains. Then she came and sat +herself down on the couch also, leaning against the end of it in such a fashion +that she could watch me in the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said, after she had looked at me a while, rather +strangely, as I thought, for the colour came and went upon her face, which in +that light seemed quite young again and wonderfully beautiful, “Olaf, you +are a very brave man.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are hundreds in your service braver, Empress; cowards do not take +to soldiering.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could tell you a different story, Olaf; but it was not of this kind of +courage that I talked. It was of that which made you offer to eat the poisoned +fig in place of Constantine. Why did you do so? It is true that, as things have +happened, he’ll remember it in your favour, for I’ll say this of +him, he never forgets one who has saved him from harm, any more than he forgets +one who has harmed him. But if you had eaten you would have died, and then how +could he have rewarded you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Empress, when I took my oath of office I swore to protect both the +Augustus and the Augusta, even with my life. I was fulfilling my oath, that is +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a strange man as well as a brave man to interpret oaths so +strictly. If you will do as much as this for one who is nothing to you, and who +has never paid you a gold piece, how much, I wonder, would you do for one whom +you love.” +</p> + +<p> +“I could offer no more than my life for such a one, Empress, could +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Someone told me—it may have been you, Olaf, or another—that +once you did more, challenging a heathen god for the sake of one you loved, and +defeating him. It was added that this was for a man, but that I do not believe. +Doubtless it was for the sake of Iduna the Fair, of whom you have spoken to me, +whom it seems you cannot forget although she was faithless to you. It is said +that the best way to hold love is to be faithless to him who loves, and in +truth I believe it,” she added bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, Empress. It was to be avenged on him for the life of +Steinar, my foster-brother, which he had taken in sacrifice, that I dared Odin +and hewed his holy statue to pieces with this sword; of Steinar, whom Iduna +betrayed as she betrayed me, bringing one to death and the other to +shame.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, had it not been for this Iduna you would never have given +battle to the great god of the North and thus brought his curse upon you. For, +Olaf, those gods live; they are devils.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether Odin is or is not, I do not fear his curse, Empress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it will find you out before all is done, or so I think. Look you, +pagan blood still runs in me, and, Christian though I am, I would not dare one +of the great gods of Greece and Rome. I’d leave that to the priests. Do +you fear nothing, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think nothing at all, since I hewed off Odin’s head and came +away unscathed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you are a man to my liking, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, looking at me even more strangely than before, till I turned my +eyes, indeed, and stared out at the sea, wishing that I were in it, or anywhere +away from this lovely and imperious woman whom I was sworn to obey in all +things. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said presently, “you have served me well of late. +Is there any reward that you would ask, and if so, what? Anything that I can +give is yours, unless,” she added hastily, “the gift will take you +away from Constantinople and from—me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Augusta,” I answered, still staring out at the sea. “In +the prison yonder is an old bishop named Barnabas of Egypt, who was set upon by +other bishops at the Council while you were away and wellnigh beaten to death. +I ask that he may be freed and restored to his diocese with honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Barnabas,” she replied sharply. “I know the man. He is an +Iconoclast, and therefore my enemy. Only this morning I signed an order that he +should be kept in confinement till he died, here or elsewhere. Still,” +she went on, “though I would sooner give you a province, have your gift, +for I can refuse you nothing. Barnabas shall be freed and restored to his see +with honour. I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I began to thank her, but she stopped me, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Have done! Another time you can talk to me of heretics with whom you +have made friends, but I, who hear enough of such, would have no more of them +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +So I grew silent and still stared out at the sea. Indeed, I was wondering in my +mind whether I dared ask leave to depart, for I felt her eyes burning on me, +and grew much afraid. Suddenly I heard a sound, a gentle sound of rustling +silk, and in another instant I felt Irene’s arms clasped about me and +Irene’s head laid upon my knee. Yes, she was kneeling before me, sobbing, +and her proud head was resting on my knee. The diadem she wore had fallen from +it, and her tresses, breaking loose, flowed to the ground, and lay there +gleaming like gold in the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up, and her face was that of a weeping saint. +</p> + +<p> +“Dost understand?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Now despair took me, which I knew full well would soon be followed by madness. +Then came a thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “I understand that you grieve over +that matter of the Augustus and the poisoned figs, and would pray me to keep +silence. Have no fear, my lips are sealed, but for his I cannot answer, though +perhaps as he had drunk so much——” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool!” she whispered. “Is it thus that an Empress pleads +with her captain to keep silence?” Then she drew herself up, a wonderful +look upon her face that had grown suddenly white, a fire in her upturned eyes, +and for the second time kissed me upon the lips. +</p> + +<p> +I took her in my arms and kissed her back. For an instant my mind swam. Then in +my soul I cried for help, and strength came to me. Rising, I lifted her as +though she were a child, and stood her on her feet. I said: +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken, Empress, before destruction falls. I do understand now, though +a moment ago I did not, who never thought it possible that the queen of the +world could look with favour upon one so humble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love takes no account of rank,” she murmured, “and that kiss +of yours upon my lips is more to me than the empire of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet hearken,” I answered. “There is another wall between us +which may not be climbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Man, what is this wall? Is it named woman? Are you sworn to the memory +of that Iduna, who is more fair than I? Or is it, perchance, her of the +necklace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither. Iduna is dead to me; she of the necklace is but a dream. The +wall is that of your own faith. On this night seven days ago I was baptised a +Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what of it? This draws us nearer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Study the sayings of your sacred book, Empress, and you will find that +it thrusts us apart.” +</p> + +<p> +Now she coloured to her hair, and a kind of madness took her. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to be preached to by you?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I preach to myself, Augusta, who need it greatly, not to you, who mayhap +do not need it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hating me as you do, why should you need it? You are the worst of +hypocrites, who would veil your hate under a priest’s robe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no pity, Irene? When did I say that I hated you? Moreover, if I +had hated you, should I——” and I ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what you would or would not have done,” she answered +coldly. “I think that Constantine is right, and that you must be what is +called a saint; and, if so, saints are best in heaven, especially when they +know too much on earth. Give me that sword of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +I drew the sword, saluted with it, and gave it to her. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a heavy weapon,” she said. “Whence came it?” +</p> + +<p> +“From the same grave as the necklace, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the necklace that your dream-woman wore. Well, go to seek her in the +land of dreams,” and she lifted the sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, Augusta, but you are about to strike with the blunt edge, +which may wound but will not kill.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed a little, very nervously, and, turning the sword round in her hand, +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, you are the strangest of men! Ah! I thank you, now I have it +right. Do you understand, Olaf, I mean, Sir Saint, what sort of a story I must +tell of you after I have struck? Do you understand that not only are you about +to die, but that infamy will be poured upon your name and that your body will +be dragged through the streets and thrown to the dogs with the city offal? +Answer, I say, answer!” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that you must cause these things to be done for your own +sake, Augusta, and I do not complain. Lies matter nothing to me, who journey to +the Land of Truth, where there are some whom I would meet again. Be advised by +me. Strike here, where the neck joins the shoulder, holding the sword +slantwise, for there even a woman’s blow will serve to sever the great +artery.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot. Kill yourself, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“A week ago I’d have fallen on the sword; but now, by the rule of +our faith, in such a cause I may not. My blood must be upon your hands, for +which I grieve, knowing that no other road is open to you. Augusta, if it is +worth anything to you, take my full forgiveness for the deed, and with it my +thanks for all the goodness you have shown to me, but most for your +woman’s favour. In after years, perhaps, when death draws near to you +also, if ever you remember Olaf, your faithful servant, you will understand +much it is not fitting that I should say. Give me one moment to make my peace +with Heaven as to certain kisses. Then strike hard and swiftly, and, as you +strike, scream for your guards and women. Your wit will do the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +She lifted the sword, while, after a moment’s prayer, I bared my neck of +the silk robe. Then she let it fall again, gasping, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me first, for I am curious. Are you no man? Or have you forsworn +woman, as do the monks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I, Augusta. Had I lived, some day I might have married, who would +have wished to leave children behind me, since in our law marriage is allowed. +Forget not your promise as to the Bishop Barnabas, who, I fear, will weep over +this seeming fall of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you would marry, would you?” she said, as one who speaks to +herself; then thought awhile, and handed me back the sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she went on, “you have made me feel as I never felt +before—ashamed, utterly ashamed, and though I learn to hate you, as it +well may hap I shall, know that I shall always honour you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she sank down upon the couch, and, hiding her face in her hands, wept +bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that I went very near to loving Irene. +</p> + +<p> +I think she must have felt something of what was passing in my mind, for +suddenly she looked up and said: “Give me that jewel,” and she +pointed to the diadem on the floor, “and help me to order my hair; my +hands shake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” I said, as I gave her the crown. “Of that wine I drink +no more. I dare not touch you; you grow too dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“For those words,” she whispered, “go in safety, and remember +that from Irene you have naught to fear, as I know well I have naught to fear +from you, O Prince among men.” +</p> + +<p> +So presently I went. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the following morning, as I sat in my office at the prison, setting all +things in order for whoever should succeed me, Martina entered, as she had done +before. +</p> + +<p> +“How came you here unannounced?” I asked, when she was seated. +</p> + +<p> +“By virtue of this,” she answered, holding up her hand and showing +on it a ring I knew. It was the signet of the Empress. I saluted the seal, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“And for what purpose, Martina? To order me to bonds or death?” +</p> + +<p> +“To bonds or death!” she exclaimed innocently. “What can our +good Olaf have done worthy of such woes? Nay, I come to free one from bonds, +and perhaps from death, namely, a certain heretic bishop who is named Barnabas. +Here is the order for his release, signed by the Augusta’s hand and +sealed with her seal, under which he is at liberty to bide in Constantinople +while he will and to return to his bishopric in Egypt when it pleases him. +Also, if he holds that any have harmed him, he may make complaint, and it shall +be considered without delay.” +</p> + +<p> +I took the parchment, read it, and laid it on the table, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“The commands of the Empress shall be done. Is there aught else, +Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. To-morrow morning you will be relieved of your office, and another +governor—Stauracius and Aetius are quarrelling as to his name—will +take your place.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will resume your post as captain of the private guard, only with the +rank of a full general of the army. But that I told you yesterday. It is now +confirmed.” +</p> + +<p> +I said nothing, but a groan I could not choke broke from my lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not seem as pleased as you might be, Olaf. Tell me, now, at what +hour did you leave the palace last night? While waiting for my mistress to +summon me I fell asleep in the vestibule of the ante-room, and when I awoke and +went into that room I found there the gold-broidered silk robe you wore, cast +upon the ground, and your armour gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not what was the hour, Martina, and speak no more to me, I pray, +of that accursed womanish robe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you treated but ill, Olaf, for it is spotted as though with +blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Augustus spilt some wine over it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, my mistress told me the story. Also that of how you would have +eaten the poisoned fig, which you snatched from the lips of Constantine.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what else did your mistress tell you, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much, Olaf. She was in a very strange mood last night, and while I +combed her hair, which, Olaf, was as tangled as though a man had handled +it,” and she looked at me till I coloured to the eyes, “and undid +her diadem, that was set on it all awry, she spoke to me of marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of marriage!” I gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly—did I not speak the word with clearness?—of +marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! grow not jealous before there is need, Olaf. She made no mention of +the name of our future divine master, for whosoever can rule Irene, if such a +one lives, will certainly rule us also. All she said was that she wished she +could find some man to guide, guard and comfort her, who grew lonely amidst +many troubles, and hoped for more sons than Constantine.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a man, Martina? This Emperor Charlemagne, or some other +king?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. She vowed that she had seen enough of princes, who were murderers +and liars, all of them; and that what she desired was one of good birth, no +more, brave, honest, and not a fool. I asked her, too, what she would have him +like to look upon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did she say to that, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! she said that he must be tall, and under forty, fair-haired and +bearded, since she loved not these shaven effeminates, who look half woman and +half priest; one who had known war, and yet was no ruffler; a person of open +mind, who had learnt and could learn more. Well, now that I think of it, by all +the Saints!—yes, much such a man as <i>you</i> are, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she may find them in plenty,” I said, with an uneasy laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so? Well, she did not, neither did I. Indeed, she pointed +out that this was her trouble. Among the great of the earth she knew no such +man, and, if she sought lower, then would come jealousies and war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed they would. Doubtless you showed her that this was so, +Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, Olaf. I asked her of what use it was to be an Empress if she +could not please her own heart in this matter of a husband, which is one +important to a woman. I said also, as for such fears, that a secret marriage +might be thought of, which is an honest business that could be declared when +occasion came.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did she answer to that, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“She fell into high good humour, called me a faithful and a clever +friend, gave me a handsome jewel, told me that she would have a mission for me +on the morrow—doubtless that which I now fulfil, for I have heard of no +other—said, notwithstanding all the trouble as to the Augustus and his +threats, that she was sure she would sleep better than she had done for nights, +kissed me on both cheeks, and flung herself upon her knees at her +praying-stool, where I left her. But why are you looking so sad, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I know not, save that I find life difficult, and full of pitfalls +which it is hard to escape.” +</p> + +<p> +Martina rested her elbows on the table and her chin upon her little hand, +staring me full in the face with her quick eyes that pierced like nails. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said, “your star shines bright above you. Keep +your eyes fixed thereon and follow it, and never think about the pitfalls. It +may lead you I know not where.” +</p> + +<p> +“To heaven, perhaps,” I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you did not fear to go thither when you would have eaten the +poisoned fig last night. To heaven, perchance, but by a royal road. Whatever +you may think of some others, marriage is an honourable estate, my Christian +friend, especially if a man marries well. And now good-bye; we shall meet again +at the palace, whither you will repair to-morrow morning. Not before, since I +am engaged in directing the furnishment of your new quarters in the right wing, +and, though the workmen labour all night, they will not be finished until then. +Good-bye, General Olaf. Your servant Martina salutes you and your star,” +and she curtsied before me until her knees almost touched the ground. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER V<br/> +AVE POST SECULA</h2> + +<p> +It comes back to me that on the following day my successor in the governorship +of the jail, who he was I know not now, arrived, and that to him in due form I +handed over my offices and duties. Before I did so, however, I made it my care +to release Barnabas, I think on the previous evening. In his cell I read the +Augusta’s warrant to the old bishop. +</p> + +<p> +“How was it obtained, son,” he asked, “for, know, that having +so many enemies on this small matter of image worship, I expected to die in +this place? Now it seems that I am free, and may even return to my charge in +Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Empress granted it to me as a favour, Father,” I answered. +“I told her that you were from the North, like myself.” +</p> + +<p> +He studied me with his shrewd blue eyes, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“It seems strange to me that so great and unusual a boon should be +granted for such a reason, seeing that better men than I am have suffered +banishment and worse woes for less cause than I have given. What did you pay +the Empress for this favour, son Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, Father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so? Olaf, a dream has come to me about you, and in that dream I +saw you walk through a great fire and emerge unscathed, save for the singeing +of your lips and hair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps they were singed, Father. Otherwise, I am unburned, though what +will happen to me in the future I do not know, for my dangers seem +great.” +</p> + +<p> +“In my dream you triumphed over all of them, Olaf, and also met with some +reward even in this life, though now I know not what it was. Yes, and triumph +you shall, my son in Christ. Fear nothing, even when the storm-clouds sweep +about your head and the lightnings blind your eyes. I say, fear nothing, for +you have friends whom you cannot see. I ask no more even under the seal of +confession, since there are secrets which it is not well to learn. Who knows, I +might go mad, or torture might draw from me words I would not speak. Therefore, +keep your own counsel, son, and confess to God alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do now, Father?” I asked. “Return to +Egypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, not yet awhile. It comes to me that I must bide here for a space, +which under this pardon I have liberty to do, but to what end I cannot say. +Later on I shall return, if God so wills. I go to dwell with good folk who are +known to me, and from time to time will let you hear where I may be found, if +you should need my help or counsel.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I led him to the gates, and, having given him a witnessed copy of his +warrant of release, bade him farewell for that time, making it known to the +guards and certain priests who lingered there that any who molested him must +answer for it to the Augusta. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we parted. +</p> + +<p> +Having handed over the keys of the prison, I walked to the palace unattended, +being minded to take up my duties there unnoticed. But this was not to be. As I +entered the palace gate a sentry called out something, and a messenger, who +seemed to be in waiting, departed at full speed. Then the sentry, saluting, +told me that his orders were that I must stand awhile, he knew not why. +Presently I discovered, for across the square within the gates marched a full +general’s guard, whereof the officer also saluted, and prayed me to come +with him. I went, wondering if I was to be given in charge, and by him, +surrounded with this pompous guard, was led to my new quarters, which were more +splendid than I could have dreamed. Here the guard left me, and presently other +officers appeared, some of them old comrades of my own, asking for orders, of +which, of course, I had none to give. Also, within an hour, I was summoned to a +council of generals to discuss some matter of a war in which the Empire was +engaged. By such means as these it was conveyed to me that I had become a great +man, or, at any rate, one in the way of growing great. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon, when, according to my old custom, I was making my round of the +guards, I met the Augusta upon the main terrace, surrounded by a number of +ministers and courtiers. I saluted and would have passed on, but she bade one +of her eunuchs call me to her. So I came and stood before her. +</p> + +<p> +“We greet you, General Olaf,” she said. “Where have you been +all this long while? Oh! I remember. At the State prison, as its governor, of +which office you are now relieved at your own request. Well, the palace +welcomes you again, for when you are here all within know themselves +safe.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus she spoke, her great eyes searching my face the while, then bowed her head +in token of dismissal. I saluted again, and began to step backwards, according +to the rule, whereon she motioned to me to stand. Then she began to make a +laugh of me to the painted throng about her. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, nobles and ladies,” she said, “did any of you ever see +such a man? We address him as best we may—and we have reason to believe +that he understands our language—yet not one word does he vouchsafe to us +in answer. There he stands, like a soldier cut in iron who moves by springs, +with never an ‘I thank you’ or a ‘Good day’ on his +lips. Doubtless he would reprove us all, who, he holds, talk too much, being, +as we all have heard, a man of stern morality, who has no tenderness for human +foibles. By the way, General Olaf, a rumour has reached us that you have +forsaken doubt, and become a Christian. Is this true?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then if as a Pagan you were a man of iron, what will you be as a +Christian, we wonder? One hard as diamond, no less. Yet we are glad of this +tidings, as all good servants of the Church must be, since henceforth our +friendship will be closer and we value you. General, you must be received +publicly into the bosom of the Faith; it will be an encouragement to others to +follow your example. Perhaps, as you have served us so well in many wars and as +an officer of our guard, we ourselves will be your god-mother. The matter shall +be considered by us. What have you to answer to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” I replied, “save that when the Augusta has +considered of the matter, I will consider of my answer.” +</p> + +<p> +At this the courtiers tittered, and, instead of growing angry, as I thought she +might, Irene burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly we were wrong,” she said, “to provoke you to open your +mouth, General, for when you do so, like that red sword you wear, your tongue +is sharp, if somewhat heavy. Tell us, General, are your new quarters to your +taste, and before you reply know that we inspected them ourselves, and, having +a liking for such tasks, attended to their furnishment. ’Tis done, you +will see, in the Northern style, which we think somewhat cold and +heavy—like your sword and tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the Augusta asks me,” I said, “the quarters are too fine +for a single soldier. The two rooms where I dwelt before were +sufficient.” +</p> + +<p> +“A single soldier! Well, that is a fault which can be remedied. You +should marry, General Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I find any woman who wishes to marry me and whom I wish to marry, I +will obey the Augusta’s commands.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, General, only remember that first we must approve the lady. +Venture not, General, to share those new quarters of yours with any lady whom +we do not approve.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, followed by the Court, she turned and walked away, and I went about my +business, wondering what was the meaning of all this guarded and half-bitter +talk. +</p> + +<p> +The next event that returns to me clearly is that of my public acceptance as a +Christian in the great Cathedral of St. Sophia, which must have taken place not +very long after this meeting upon the terrace. I know that by every means in my +power I had striven, though without avail, to escape this ceremony, pointing +out that I could be publicly received into the body of the Church at any chapel +where there was a priest and a congregation of a dozen humble folk. But this +the Empress would not allow. The reason she gave was her desire that my +conversion should be proclaimed throughout the city, that other Pagans, of whom +there were thousands, might follow my example. Yet I think she had another +which she did not avow. It was that I might be made known in public as a man of +importance whom it pleased her to honour. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning of this rite, Martina came to acquaint me with its details, and +told me that the Empress would be present at the cathedral in state, making her +progress thither in her golden chariot, drawn by the famed milk-white steeds. +I, it seemed, was to ride after the chariot in my general’s uniform, +which was splendid enough, followed by a company of guards, and surrounded by +chanting priests. The Patriarch himself, no less a person, was to receive me +and some other converts, and the cathedral would be filled with all the great +ones of Constantinople. +</p> + +<p> +I asked whether Irene intended to be my god-mother, as she had threatened. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” replied Martina. “On that point she has changed her +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better,” I said. “But why?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a canon of the Church, Olaf, which forbids intermarriage +between a god-parent and his or her god-child,” she replied dryly. +“Whether this canon has come to the Augusta’s memory or not, I +cannot say. It may be so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, then, is to be my god-mother?” I asked hurriedly, leaving the +problem of Irene’s motives undiscussed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am, by the written Imperial decree delivered to me not an hour +ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, Martina, you who are younger than myself by many years?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I. The Augusta has just explained to me that as we seem to be such +very good friends, and to talk together so much alone, doubtless, she supposed, +upon matters of religion, there could be no person more suitable than such a +good Christian as myself to fill that holy office.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Martina?” I asked bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Olaf,” she replied, turning away her head, and speaking in +a strained voice, “that, where you are concerned, the Augusta of late has +done me the honour to be somewhat jealous of me. Well, of a god-mother no one +need be jealous. The Augusta is a clever woman, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not quite understand,” I said. “Why should the Augusta +be jealous of you?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no reason at all, Olaf, except that, as it happens, she is +jealous of every woman who comes near to you, and she knows that we are +intimate and that you trust me—well, more, perhaps, than you trust her. +Oh! I assure you that of late you have not spoken to any woman under fifty +unnoted and unreported. Many eyes watch you, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then they might find better employment. But tell me outright, Martina, +what is the meaning of all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely even a wooden-headed Northman can guess, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced round her to make sure that we were alone in the great apartment of +my quarters and that the doors were shut, then went on, almost in a whisper, +“My mistress is wondering whether or no she will marry again, and, if so, +whether she will choose a certain somewhat over-virtuous Christian soldier as a +second husband. As yet she has not made up her mind. Moreover, even if she had, +nothing could be done at present or until the question of the struggle between +her and her son for power is settled in this way or in that. Therefore, at +worst, or at best, that soldier has yet a while of single life left to him, say +a month or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then during that month or two perhaps he would be wise to travel,” +I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, if he were a fool who would run away from fortune, and if he +could get leave of absence, which in his case is impossible; to attempt such a +journey without it would mean his death. No, if he is wise, that soldier will +bide where he is and await events, possessing his soul in patience, as a good +Christian should do. Now, as your god-mother, I must instruct you in this +service. Look not so troubled; it is really most simple. You know Stauracius, +the eunuch, is to be your god-father, which is very fortunate for you, since, +although he looks on you with doubt and jealousy, to blind or murder his own +god-son would cause too much scandal even in Constantinople. As a special mark +of grace, also, the Bishop Barnabas, of Egypt, will be allowed to assist in the +ceremony, because it was he who snatched your soul from the burning. Moreover, +since the Sacrament is to be administered afterwards, he has been commanded to +attend here to receive your confession in the chapel of the palace, and within +an hour. You know that this day being the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, +you will be received in the name of Michael, a high one well fitted to a +warlike saint, though I think that I shall still call you Olaf. So farewell, my +god-son to be, until we meet at the cathedral, where I shall shine in the +reflected light of all your virtues.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she sighed, laughed a little, and glided away. +</p> + +<p> +In due course a priest of the chapel came to summon me there, saying that the +Bishop Barnabas awaited me. I went and made my confession, though in truth I +had little to tell him that he did not already know. Afterwards the good old +man, who by now was quite recovered from his hurts and imprisonment, +accompanied me to my quarters, where we ate together. He told me that before he +attended in the chapel he had been received by the Empress, who had spoken to +him very kindly, making light of their difference of opinion as to images and +with her own mouth confirmed him in his bishopric, even hinting at his possible +promotion. +</p> + +<p> +“This, my son,” he added, “I am well aware I owe to your good +offices.” +</p> + +<p> +I asked him if he would return at once to Upper Egypt, where he had his +bishopric. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my son,” he answered, “not yet awhile. The truth is that +there have arrived here the chief man in my diocese, and his daughter. He is a +descendant of the old Pharaohs of the Egyptians who lives near the second +cataract of the Nile, almost on the borders of Ethiopia, whither the accursed +children of Mahomet have not yet forced their way. He is still a great man +among the Egyptians, who look upon him as their lawful prince. His mission here +is to try to plan a new war upon the followers of the Prophet, who, he holds, +might be assailed by the Empire at the mouths of the Nile, while he attacked +them with his Egyptians from the south.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I grew interested, who had always grieved over the loss of Egypt to the +Empire, and asked what was this prince’s name. +</p> + +<p> +“Magas, my son, and his daughter is named Heliodore. Ah! she is such a +woman as I would see you wed, beautiful indeed, and good and true as she is +beautiful, with a high spirit also, such as befits her ancient blood. Mayhap +you will note her in the cathedral. Nay, I forgot, not there, but afterwards in +this palace, since it is the command of the Empress, to whom I have been +speaking of their matters, that these two should come to dwell here for a +while. After that I hope we shall all return to Egypt together, though Magas, +being on a secret mission, does not travel under his own name, but as a +merchant.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he paused, and began to stare at my throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Is aught wrong with my armour, Father?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, son. I was looking at that trinket which you wear. Of course I have +noted it before, but never closely. It is strange, very strange!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is strange, Father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that I have seen another like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say you have,” I answered, laughing, “for when I +would not give this to the Augusta, it pleased her to have it copied.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; I mean in Egypt, and, what is more, a story hung to the +jewel.” +</p> + +<p> +“On whom? Where? What story?” I asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I cannot stay to tell you now. Moreover, your mind should be fixed +upon immortal crowns, and not on earthly necklaces. I must be gone; nay, stay +me not, I am already late. Do you get you to your knees and pray till your +god-parents come to fetch you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in spite of all I could do to keep him, he went, muttering: +“Strange! Exceeding strange!” and leaving me quite unfit for +prayer. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +An hour later I was riding through the streets of the mighty city, clad in +shining armour. As the season was that of October, in which the Feast of St. +Michael falls, we wore cloaks, although, the day being warm, they were little +needed. Mine was of some fine white stuff, with a red cross broidered on the +right shoulder. Stauracius, the eunuch and great minister, who had been ordered +to act as my god-father, rode alongside of me on a mule, because he dared not +mount a horse, sweating beneath his thick robe of office, and, as I heard from +time to time, cursing me, his god-son, and all this ceremony beneath his +breath. On my other hand was my god-mother, Martina, riding an Arab mare, which +she did well enough, having been brought up to horsemanship on the plains of +Greece. Her mood was varied, for now she laughed at the humour of the scene, +and now she was sad almost to tears. +</p> + +<p> +The streets were lined with thousands of the pleasure-loving people of the +city, who had come out to see the show of the Empress going in state to the +cathedral. They were gathered even on the flat house-tops and in the entrances +to the public buildings and open places. But the glory of the sight was +centred, not about me, with my escort of guards and chanting priests, but in +Irene’s self. Preceded and followed by glittering regiments of soldiers, +she drove in her famous golden chariot, drawn by eight milk-white steeds, each +of which was led by a bejewelled noble. Her dress was splendid and covered with +sparkling gems, and on her yellow hair she wore a crown. As she went the +multitudes shouted their welcome, and she bowed to right and left in answer to +the shouts. Now and again, however, bands of armed men, clad in a dress of a +peculiar colour, emerged from side streets and hooted, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the Augustus? Give us the Augustus. We will not be ruled by a +woman and her eunuchs!” +</p> + +<p> +These men were of the party of Constantine, and set on by him. Once, indeed, +there was a tumult, for some of them tried to bar the road, till they were +driven away, leaving a few dead or wounded behind them. But still the crowds +shouted and the Empress bowed as though nothing had happened, and thus by a +somewhat winding route, we came to St. Sophia. +</p> + +<p> +The Augusta entered, and presently I and those with me followed her into the +wonderful cathedral. I see it now, not in particular, but as a whole, with its +endless columns, its aisles and apses, and its glittering mosaics shining +through the holy gloom, across which shot bars of light from the high +window-places. All the great place was full of the noblest in the city, rank +upon rank of them, come thither to see the Empress in her glory at the great +Feast of St. Michael, which year by year she attended thus. +</p> + +<p> +At the altar waited the Patriarch in his splendid robes, attended by many +bishops and priests, among them Barnabas of Egypt. The service began, I and +some other converts standing together near to the altar rail. The details of it +do not return to me. Sweet voices sang, censers gave forth their incense, +banners waved, and images of the saints, standing everywhere, smiled upon us +fixedly. Some of us were baptised, and some who had already been baptised were +received publicly into the fellowship of the Church, I among them. My +god-father, Stauracius, a deacon prompting him, and my god-mother, Martina, +spoke certain words on my behalf, and I also spoke certain words which I had +learned. +</p> + +<p> +The splendid Patriarch, a sour-faced man with a slight squint, gave me his +especial blessing. The Bishop Barnabas, upon whom, as I noted, the Patriarch +was always careful to turn his back, offered up a prayer. My god-father and +god-mother embraced me, Stauracius smacking the air at a distance, for which I +was grateful, and Martina touching me gently with her lips upon the brow. The +Empress smiled upon me and, as I passed her, patted me on the shoulder. Then +the Sacrament was celebrated, whereof the Empress partook first; next we +converts, with our god-parents, and afterwards a number of the congregation. +</p> + +<p> +It was over at last. The Augusta and her attendants marched down the cathedral +towards the great western doors, priests followed, and, among them, we +converts, whom the people applauded openly. +</p> + +<p> +Looking to right and left of me, for I was weary of keeping my gaze fixed upon +the floor, presently I caught sight of a face whilst as yet it was far away. It +seemed to draw me, I knew not why. The face was that of a woman. She stood by +an old and stately-looking man with a white beard, the last of a line of +worshippers next to the aisle along which the procession passed, and I saw that +she was young and fair. +</p> + +<p> +Down the long, resounding aisle the procession marched slowly. Now I was nearer +to the face, and perceived that it was lovely as some rich-hued flower. The +large eyes were dark and soft as a deer’s. The complexion, too, was +somewhat dark, as though the sun had kissed it. The lips were red and curving, +and about them played a little smile that was full of mystery as the eyes were +full of thought and tenderness. The figure was delicate and rounded, but not so +very tall. All these things and others I noted, yet it was not by them that I +was drawn and held, but rather because I <i>knew this lady</i>. +</p> + +<p> +She was the woman of whom, years ago, I had dreamed on the night on which I +broke into the Wanderer’s tomb at Aar! +</p> + +<p> +Never for one moment did I doubt me of this truth. I was sure. I was sure. It +did not even need, while she turned to whisper something to her companion, that +the cloak she wore should open a little, revealing on her breast a necklace of +emerald beetles separated by inlaid shells of pale and ancient gold. +</p> + +<p> +She was watching the procession with interest, yet somewhat idly, when she +caught sight of me, whom, from where she stood, she could scarcely have seen +before. Of a sudden her face grew doubtful and troubled, like to that of one +who has just received some hurt. She saw the ornament about my neck. She turned +pale and had she not gripped the arm of the man beside her, would, I think, +have fallen. Then her eyes caught mine, and Fate had us in its net. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned forward, gazing, gazing, all her soul in those dark eyes, and I, +too, gazed and gazed. The great cathedral vanished with its glittering crowds, +the sound of chanting and of feet that marched died from my ears. In place of +these I saw a mighty columned temple and two stone figures, taller than pines, +seated on a plain, and through the moonlit silence heard a sweet voice +murmuring: +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell. For this life, farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +Now we were near to each other, now I was passing her, I who might not stay. My +hand brushed hers, and oh! it was as though I had drunk a cup of wine. A spirit +entered into me and, bending, I whispered in her ear, speaking in the Latin +tongue, since Greek, which all knew, I did not dare to use, “<i>Ave post +secula!</i>” Greeting after the ages! +</p> + +<p> +I saw her bosom heave; yes, and heard her whisper back: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ave!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +So she knew me also. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER VI<br/> +HELIODORE</h2> + +<p> +That night there was feasting at the palace, and I, Olaf, now known as Michael, +as a convert was one of the chief guests, so that for me there was no escape. I +sat very silent, so silent that the Augusta frowned, though she was too far off +to speak to me. The banquet came to an end at last and before midnight I was +free to go, still without word from the Empress, who withdrew herself, as I +thought in an ill-humour. +</p> + +<p> +I sought my bed, but in it knew little of sleep. I had found her for whom +during all the long years I had been searching, though I did not understand +that I was searching. After the ages I had found her and she had found me. Her +eyes said it, and, unless I dreamed, her sweet voice said it also. +</p> + +<p> +Who was she? Doubtless that Heliodore, daughter of Magas, the prince of whom +the Bishop Barnabas had spoken to me. Oh! now I understood what he meant when +he spoke of another necklace like to that I wore, and yet would explain +nothing. It lay upon the breast of Heliodore, Heliodore who was such a one as +he wished that I might wed. Well, certainly I wished it too; but, alas! how +could I wed, who was in Irene’s power, a toy for her to play with or to +break? And how would it fare with any woman whom it was known that I wished to +wed? I must be secret until she was gone from Constantinople, and in this way +or in that I could follow her. I, who had ever been open-minded, must learn to +keep my own counsel. +</p> + +<p> +Now, too, I remembered how Barnabas had said the Augusta commanded that this +Prince Magas and his daughter should come to the palace as her guests. Well, +the place was vast, a town in itself, and likely enough I should not see them +there. Yet I longed to see one of them as never I had longed for anything +before. I was sure, also, that no fears could keep us apart, even though I knew +the road before me to be full of dangers and of trials, knew that I went with +my life in my hand, the life of which I had been quite careless, but that now +had become so dear to me. For did not the world hold another to whom it +belonged? +</p> + +<p> +The night passed away. I rose and went about my morning duties. Scarcely were +these finished when a messenger summoned me to the presence of the Augusta. I +followed him with a sinking heart, certain that those woes which I had foreseen +were about to begin. Also, now there was no woman in the whole world whom I +less wished to see than Irene, Empress of the Earth. +</p> + +<p> +I was led to the small audience chamber, whereof I have already spoken, that on +the floor of which was the mosaic of the goddess Venus making pretence to kill +her lover. There I found the Augusta seated in a chair of State, the minister +Stauracius, my god-father, who glowered at me as I entered, some secretaries, +and Martina, my god-mother, who was the lady in attendance. +</p> + +<p> +I saluted the Empress, who bowed graciously and said: +</p> + +<p> +“General Olaf—nay, I forgot, General Michael, your god-father +Stauracius has something to say which I trust will please you as much as it +does him and me. Speak, Stauracius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beloved god-son,” began Stauracius, in a voice of sullen rage, +“it has pleased the Augusta to appoint you——” +</p> + +<p> +“On the prayer and advice of me, Stauracius,” interrupted the +Empress. +</p> + +<p> +“——On the prayer and advice of me, Stauracius,” +repeated the eunuch like a talking bird, “to be one of her chamberlains +and Master of the Palace, at a salary of” (I forget the sum, but it was a +great one) “with all the power and perquisites to that office pertaining, +in reward of the services which you have rendered to her and the Empire. Thank +the Empress for her gracious favour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” interrupted Irene again, “thank your beloved +god-father Stauracius, who has given me no peace until I offered you this +preferment which has suddenly become vacant, Stauracius alone knows why, for I +do not. Oh! you were wise, Olaf—I mean Michael—to choose Stauracius +for a god-father, though I warn him,” she added archly, “that in +his natural love he must not push you forward too fast lest others should begin +to show that jealousy which is a stranger to his noble nature. Come hither, +Michael, and kiss my hand upon your appointment.” +</p> + +<p> +So I advanced and, kneeling, kissed the Augusta’s hand, according to +custom on such occasions, noting, as doubtless Stauracius did also, that she +pressed it hard enough against my lips. Then I rose and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I thank the Augusta——” +</p> + +<p> +“And my god-father Stauracius,” she interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“——And my god-father Stauracius,” I echoed, “for +her and his goodness towards me. Yet with humility I venture to say that I am a +soldier who knows nothing whatsoever of the duties of a chamberlain and of a +Master of the Palace, and, therefore, I beg that someone else more competent +may be chosen to fill these high offices.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing these words Stauracius stared at me with his round and owl-like +eyes. Never before had he known an officer in Constantinople who wished to +decline power and more pay. Scarcely, indeed, could he believe his ears. But +the Augusta only laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Baptism has not changed you, Olaf,” she said, “who ever were +simple, as I believe your duties will be. At any rate, your god-father and +god-mother will instruct you in them—especially your god-mother. So no +more of such foolish talk. Stauracius, you may be gone to attend to the affairs +of which we have been speaking, as I see you burn to do, and take those +secretaries with you, for the scratching of their pens sets my teeth on edge. +Bide here a moment, General, for as Master of the Palace it will be your duty +to receive certain guests to-day of whom I wish to speak with you. Bide you +also, Martina, that you may remember my words in case this unpractised officer +should forget them.” +</p> + +<p> +Stauracius and his secretaries bowed themselves out, leaving the three of us +alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Olaf, or Michael—which do you wish to be called?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is more easy for a man to alter his nature than his name,” I +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you altered your nature? If so, your manners remain much what they +were. Well, then, be Olaf in private and Michael in public, for often an alias +is convenient enough. Hark! I would read you a lesson. As the wise King Solomon +said, ‘Everything has its place and time.’ It is good to repent you +of your sins and to think about your soul, but I pray you do so no more at my +feasts, especially when they are given in your honour. Last night you sat at +the board like a mummy at an Egyptian banquet. Had your skull stood on it, +filled with wine, it could scarce have looked grimmer than did your face. Be +more cheerful, I pray you, or I will have you tonsured and promoted to be a +bishop, like that old heretic Barnabas of whom you are so fond. Ah! you smile +at last, and I am glad to see it. Now hearken again. This afternoon there comes +to the palace a certain old Egyptian named Magas, whom I place in your especial +charge, and with him his wife—at least, I think she is his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Mistress, his daughter,” interrupted Martina. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! his daughter,” said the Augusta suspiciously. “I did not +know she was his daughter. What is she like, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not seen her, Empress, but someone said that she is a +black-looking woman, such as the Nile breeds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so? Then I charge you, Olaf, keep her far from me, for I love not +these ugly black women, whose woolly hair always smells of grease. Yes, I give +you leave to court her, if you will, since thereby you may learn some +secrets,” and she laughed merrily. +</p> + +<p> +I bowed, saying that I would obey the Augusta’s orders to the best of my +power, and she went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I would discover the truth concerning this Magas and his schemes, +which as a soldier you are well fitted to find out. It seems he has a plan for +the recovery of Egypt out of the hands of the followers of that accursed false +prophet whose soul dwells with Satan. Now, I would win back Egypt, if I may, +and thereby add glory to my name and the Empire. Hear all that he proposes, +study it well, and make report to me. Afterwards I will see him alone, who for +the present will send him a letter by the hand of Martina here bidding him open +all his heart to you. For a week or more I shall have no time to spend upon +this Magas, who must give myself to business upon which hangs my power and +perchance my life.” +</p> + +<p> +These words she spoke heavily, then fell into a fit of brooding. Rousing +herself, she went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you note yesterday, Olaf, if you had any mind left for the things of +earth, that as I drove in state through the streets many met me with sullen +silence, while others cursed me openly and shouted, ‘Where is the +Augustus?’ ‘Give us Constantine. We will have no woman’s +rule.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw and heard something of these things, Augusta; also that certain of +the soldiers on guard in the city had a mutinous air.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, but what you did not see and hear was that a plot had been laid to +murder me in the cathedral. I got wind of it in time and if you were still +governor of yonder prison you’d know where the murderers are to-day. Yet +they’re but tools; it is their captains whom I want. Well, torture may +make them speak; Stauracius has gone to see to it. Oh! the strife is fierce and +doubtful. I walk blindfold along a precipice. Above are Fortune’s +heights, and beneath black ruin. Perhaps you’d be wise to get you to +Constantine, Olaf, and become his man, as many are doing, since he’d be +glad of you. No need to shake your head, for that’s not your way; you are +no hound to bite the hand that feeds you, like these street-bred dogs. Would +that I could keep you nearer to me, where hour by hour you might help me with +your counsel and your quiet strength. But it may not be—as yet. I raise +you as high as I dare, but it must be done step by step, for even now some grow +jealous. Take heed to what you eat, Olaf. See that your guards are Northmen, +and beneath your doublet wear mail, especially at night. Moreover, unless I +send for you, do not come near me too often, and, when we meet, be my humble +servant, like others; aye, learn to crawl and kiss the ground. Above all, keep +secret as the grave. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she went on after a pause, during which I stood silent, +“what is there more? Oh! with your new offices, you’ll retain that +of captain of my guard, for I would be well watched during these next few +weeks. Follow up the matter of the Egyptian; you may find advancement in it. +Perchance one day you will be the general I send against the Moslems—if I +can spare you. On all this matter be secret also, for once rumour buzzes over +it that peach rots. The Egyptian and his swarthy girl come to the palace +to-day, when he will receive my letter. Meet him and see them well housed, +though not too near me; Martina will help you. Now be gone and leave me to my +battles.” +</p> + +<p> +So I went, and she watched me to the door with eyes that were full of +tenderness. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Again there is a blank in my memory, or my vision. I suppose that Magas and his +daughter Heliodore arrived at the palace on the day of my interview with Irene, +of which I have told. I suppose that I welcomed them and conducted them to the +guest house that had been made ready for them in the gardens. Doubtless, I +listened eagerly to the first words which Heliodore spoke to me, save that one +in the cathedral, the word of greeting. Doubtless, I asked her many things, and +she gave me many answers. But of all this nothing remains. +</p> + +<p> +What comes back to me is a picture of the Egyptian prince, Magas, and myself +seated at some meal in a chamber overlooking the moonlit palace garden. We were +alone, and this noble, white-bearded man, hook-nosed and hawk-eyed, was telling +me of the troubles of his countrymen, the Christian Copts of Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +“Look on me, sir,” he said. “As I could prove to you, were it +worth while, and as many could bear witness, for the records have been kept, I +am a descendant in the true line from the ancient Pharaohs of my country. +Moreover, my daughter, through her Grecian mother, is sprung from the +Ptolemies. Our race is Christian, and has been for these three hundred years, +although it was among the last to be converted. Yet, noble as we are, we suffer +every wrong at the hands of the Moslems. Our goods and lands are doubly taxed, +and, if we should go into the towns of Lower Egypt, we must wear garments on +which the Cross is broidered as a badge of shame. Yet, where I live—near +to the first cataract of the Nile, and not so very far from the city of old +Thebes—the Prophet-worshippers have no real power. I am still the true +ruler of that district, as the Bishop Barnabas will tell you, and at any +moment, were my standard to be lifted, I could call three thousand Coptic +spears to fight for Christ and Egypt. Moreover, if money were forthcoming, the +hosts of Nubia could be raised, and together we might sweep down on the Moslems +like the Nile in flood, and drive them back to Alexandria.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on to set out his plans, which in sum were that a Roman fleet and +army should appear at the mouths of the Nile to besiege and capture Alexandria, +and, with his help, massacre or drive out every Moslem in Egypt. The scheme, +which he set forth with much detail, seemed feasible enough, and when I had +mastered its particulars I promised to report it to the Empress, and afterwards +to speak with him further. +</p> + +<p> +I left the chamber, and presently stood in the garden. Although it was autumn +time, the night in this mild climate was very warm and pleasant, and the +moonlight threw black shadows of the trees across the paths. Under one of these +trees, an ancient, green-leaved oak, the largest of a little grove, I saw a +woman sitting. Perchance I knew who she was, perchance I had come thither to +meet her, I cannot say. At least, this was not our first meeting by many, for +as I came she rose, lifting her flower-like face towards my own, and next +moment was in my arms. +</p> + +<p> +When we had kissed our full, we began to talk, seated hand in hand beneath the +oak. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you been doing this day, beloved?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Much what I do every day, Heliodore. I have attended to my duties, which +are threefold, as Chamberlain, as Master of the Palace, and as Captain of the +Guard. Also, for a little while, I saw the Augusta, to whom I had to report +various matters. The interview was brief, since a rumour had reached her that +the Armenian regiments refuse to take the oath of fidelity to her alone, as she +has commanded should be done, and demand that the name of the Emperor, her son, +should be coupled with hers, as before. This report disturbed her much, so that +she had little time for other business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you speak of my father’s matter, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, shortly. She listened, and asked whether I were sure that I had got +the truth from him. She added that I had best test it by what I could win from +you by any arts that a man may use. For, Heliodore, because of something that +my god-mother, Martina, said to her, it is fixed in her mind that you are +black-skinned and very ugly. Therefore, the Augusta, who does not like any man +about her to care for other women, thinks I may make love to you with safety. +So I prayed for leave from my duties on the guard this evening that I might sup +with your father in the guest-house, and see what I could learn from one or +both of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love makes you clever, Olaf. But hearken. I do not believe that the +Empress thinks me black and ugly any longer. As it chanced while I walked in +the inner garden this afternoon, where you said I might go when I wished to be +quite alone, dreaming of our love and you, I looked up and saw an imperial +woman of middle age, who was gorgeous as a peacock, watching me from a little +distance. I went on my way, pretending to see no one, and heard the lady say: +</p> + +<p> +“‘Has all this trouble driven me mad, Martina, or did I behold a +woman beautiful as one of the nymphs of my people’s fables wandering +yonder among those bushes?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat her very words, Olaf, not because they are true—for, +remember, she saw me at a distance and against a background of rocks and autumn +flowers—but because they were her words, which I think you ought to hear, +with those that followed them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Irene has said many false things in her life,” I said, smiling, +“but by all the Saints these were not among them.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we embraced again, and after that was finished Heliodore, her head resting +on my shoulder, continued her story: +</p> + +<p> +“‘What was she like, Mistress?’ asked the lady Martina, for +by this time I had passed behind some little trees. ‘I have seen no one +who is beautiful in this garden except yourself.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘She was clad in a clinging white robe, Martina, that left her +arms and bosom bare’—being alone, Olaf, I wore my Egyptian dress +beneath my cloak, which I had laid down because of the heat of the sun. +‘She was not so very tall, yet rounded and most graceful. Her eyes seemed +large and dark, Martina, like her hair; her face was tinted like a rich-hued +rose. Oh! were I a man she seemed such a one as I should love, who, like all my +people, have ever worshipped beauty. Yet, what did I say, that she put me in +mind of a nymph of Greece. Nay, that was not so. It was of a goddess of Old +Egypt that she put me in mind, for on her face was the dreaming smile which I +have seen on that of a statue of mother Isis whom the Egyptians worshipped. +Moreover, she wore just such a headdress as I have noted upon those +statues.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now the lady Martina answered: ‘Surely, you must have dreamed, +Mistress. The only Egyptian woman in the palace is the daughter of the old +Coptic noble, Magas, who is in Olaf’s charge, and though I am told that +she is not so ugly as I heard at first, Olaf has never said to me that she was +like a goddess. What you saw was doubtless some image of Fortune conjured up by +your mind. This I take to be the best of omens, who in these doubtful days grow +superstitious.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Would Olaf tell one woman that another was like a goddess, +Martina, even though she to whom he spoke was his god-mother and a dozen years +younger than himself? Come,’ she added, ‘and let us see if we can +find this Egyptian.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” Heliodore went on, “not knowing what to do, I stood +still there against the rockwork and the flowers till presently, round the +bushes, appeared the splendid lady and Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +Now when I, Olaf, heard all this, I groaned and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Heliodore, it was the Augusta herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was the Augusta, as I learned presently. Well, they came, and I +curtsied to them. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you the daughter of Magas, the Egyptian?’ asked the +lady, eyeing me from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, Madam,’ I answered. ‘I am Heliodore, the +daughter of Magas. I pray that I have done no wrong in walking in this garden, +but the General Olaf, the Master of the Palace, gave me leave to come +here.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And did the General Olaf, whom we know as Michael, give you that +necklace which you wear, also, O Daughter of Magas? Nay, you must needs answer +me, for I am the Augusta.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now I curtsied again, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not so, O Augusta; the necklace is from Old Egypt, and was found +upon the body of a royal lady in a tomb. I have worn it for many years.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Indeed, and that which the General Michael wears came also from a +tomb.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, he told me so, Augusta,’ I said. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It would seem that the two must once have been one, Daughter of +Magas?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It may be so, Augusta; I do not know.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now the Empress looked about her, and the lady Martina, dropping behind, +began to fan herself. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you married, girl?’ she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘No,’ I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you affianced?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now I hesitated a little, then answered ‘No’ again. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You seem to be somewhat doubtful on the point. Farewell for this +while. When you walk abroad in our garden, which is open to you, be pleased to +array yourself in the dress of our country, and not in that of a courtesan of +Egypt.’” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you answer to that saying?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That which was not wise, I fear, Olaf, for my temper stirred me. I +answered: ‘Madam, I thank you for your permission to walk in your garden. +If ever I should do so again as your guest, be sure that I will not wear +garments which, before Byzantium was a village, were sacred to the gods of my +country and those of my ancestors the Queens of Egypt.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The Empress answered: ‘Well spoken! Such would have been my own +words had I been in your place. Moreover, they are true, and the robe becomes +you well. Yet presume not too far, girl, seeing that Byzantium is no longer a +village, and Egypt has some fanatic Moslem for a Pharaoh, who thinks little of +your ancient blood.’ +</p> + +<p> +“So I bowed and went, and as I walked away heard the Empress rating the +lady Martina about I know not what, save that your name came into the matter, +and my own. Why does this Empress talk so much about you, Olaf, seeing that she +has many officers who are higher in her service, and why was she so moved about +this matter of the necklace of golden shells?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heliodore,” I answered, “I must tell now what I have hidden +from you. The Augusta has been pleased—why, I cannot say, but chiefly, I +suppose, because of late years it has been my fancy to keep myself apart from +women, which is rare in this land—to show me certain favour. I gather, +even, that, whether she means it or means it not, she has thought of me as a +husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” interrupted Heliodore, starting away from me, “now I +understand everything. And, pray, have you thought as a wife of her, who has +been a widow these ten years and has a son of twenty?” +</p> + +<p> +“God above us alone knows what I have or have not thought, but it is +certain that at present I think of her only as one who has been most kind to +me, but who is more to be feared than my worst foe, if I have any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” she said, raising her finger. “I fancied I heard +someone stir behind us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fear nothing,” I answered. “We are alone here, for I set +guards of my own company around the place, with command to admit no one, and my +order runs against all save the Empress in person.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we are safe, Olaf, since this damp would disarrange her hair, +which, I noted, is curled with irons, not by Nature, like my own. Oh! Olaf, +Olaf, how wonderful is the fate that has brought us together. I say that when I +saw you yonder in the cathedral for the first time since I was born, I knew you +again, as you knew me. That is why, when you whispered to me, ‘Greeting +after the ages,’ I gave you back your welcome. I know nothing of the +past. If we lived and loved before, that tale is lost to me. But there’s +your dream and there’s the necklace. When I was a child, Olaf, it was +taken from the embalmed body of some royal woman, who, by tradition, was of my +own race, yes, and by records of which my father can tell you, for he is among +the last who can still read the writing of the old Egyptians. Moreover, she was +very like me, Olaf, for I remember her well as she lay in her coffin, preserved +by arts which the Egyptians had. She was young, not much older than I am +to-day, and her story tells that she died in giving birth to a son, who grew up +a strong and vigorous man, and although he was but half royal, founded a new +dynasty in Egypt and became my forefather. This necklace lay upon her breast, +and beneath it a writing on papyrus, which said that when the half of it which +was lost should be joined again to that half, then those who had worn them +would meet once more as mortals. Now the two halves of the necklace have met, +and <i>we</i> have met as God decreed, and it is one and we are one for ever +and for ever, let every Empress of the earth do what they will to part +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” I answered, embracing her again, “we are one for ever +and for ever, though perchance for a while we may be separated from time to +time.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER VII<br/> +VICTORY OR VALHALLA!</h2> + +<p> +A minute later I heard a rustle as of branches being moved by people thrusting +their way through them. A choked voice commanded, +</p> + +<p> +“Take him living or dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Armed men appeared about us, four of them, and one cried “Yield!” +</p> + +<p> +I sprang up and drew the Wanderer’s sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Who orders the General Michael to yield in his own command?” I +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” answered the man. “Yield or die!” +</p> + +<p> +Now, thinking that these were robbers or murderers hired by some enemy, I +sprang at him, nor was that battle long, for at my first stroke he fell dead. +Then the other three set on me. But I wore mail beneath my doublet, as Irene +had bade me do, and their swords glanced. Moreover, the old northern rage +entered into me, and these easterners were no match for my skill and strength. +First one and then another of them went down, whereon the third fled away, +taking with him a grizzly wound behind, for I struck him as he fled. +</p> + +<p> +“Now it seems there is an end of that,” I gasped to Heliodore, who +was crouched upon the seat. “Come, let me take you to your father and +summon my guards, ere we meet more of these murderers.” +</p> + +<p> +As I spoke a cloaked and hooded woman glided from the shelter of the trees +behind and stood before us. She threw back the hood from her head and the +moonlight fell upon her face. It was that of the Empress, but oh! so changed by +jealous rage that I should scarce have known her. The large eyes seemed to +flash fire, the cheeks were white, save where they had been touched with paint, +the lips trembled. Twice she tried to speak and failed, but at the third effort +words came. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, all is but begun,” she said in a voice that was full of hate. +“Know that I have heard your every word. So, traitor, you would tell my +secrets to this Egyptian slut and then murder my own servants,” and she +pointed to the dead and wounded men. “Well, you shall pay for it, both of +you, that I swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it murder, Augusta,” I asked, saluting, “when four assail +one man, and, thinking them assassins, he fights for his life and wins the +fray?” +</p> + +<p> +“What are four such curs against you? I should have brought a dozen. Yet +it was at me you struck. Whate’er they did I ordered them to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had I known it, Augusta, I would never have drawn sword, who am your +officer and obedient to the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, you’d stab me with your tongue, not with your sword,” +she answered with something like a sob. “You say you are my obedient +officer. Well, now we will see. Smite me that bold-faced baggage dead, or smite +<i>me</i> dead, I care not which, then fall upon your sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“The first I cannot do, Augusta, for it would be murder against one who +has done no wrong, and I will not stain my soul with murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Done no wrong! Has she not mocked me, my years, my widowhood, yes, and +even my hair, in the pride of her—her youth, me, the Empress of the +World?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Heliodore spoke for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“And has not the Empress of the World called a poor maid of blood as +noble as her own by shameful names?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“For the second,” I went on before Irene could answer, “I +cannot do that either, for it would be foul treason as well as murder to lift +my sword against your anointed Majesty. But as for the third, as is my duty, +that I will do—or rather suffer your servants to do—if it pleases +you to repeat the order later when you are calm.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried Heliodore, “would you go and leave me here? +Then, Olaf, by the gods my forefathers worshipped for ten thousand years, and +by the gods I worship, I’ll find a means to follow you within an hour. +Oh! Empress of the World, there is another world you do not rule, and there +we’ll call you to account.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Irene stared at Heliodore, and Heliodore stared back at her, and the sight +was very strange. +</p> + +<p> +“At least you have spirit, girl. But think not that shall save you, for +there’s no room for both of us on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I go it may prove wide enough, Augusta,” I broke in. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, you shall not go, Olaf, at least not yet. My orders are that you do +<i>not</i> fall upon your sword. As for this Egyptian witch, well, presently my +people will be here; then we will see.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I drew Heliodore to the trunk of the great tree which stood near by and set +myself in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you about to do?” asked the Empress. +</p> + +<p> +“I am about to fight your eastern curs until I fall, for no northern man +will lift a sword against me, even on your orders, Augusta. When I am down, +this lady must play her own part as God shall guide her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, Olaf,” Heliodore said gently, “I wear a +dagger.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had she spoken when there was a sound of many feet. The man whom I had +wounded had run shouting towards the palace, rousing the soldiers, both those +on watch and those in their quarters. Now these began to arrive and to gather +in the glade before the clump of trees, for some guards who had heard the clash +of arms guided them to the place. They were of all races and sundry regiments, +Greeks, Byzantines, Bulgars, Armenians, so-called Romans, and with them a +number of Britons and northern men. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing the Empress and, near by, myself standing with drawn sword against the +tree sheltering the lady Heliodore, also on the ground those whom I had cut +down, they halted. One of their officers asked what they must do. +</p> + +<p> +“Kill me that man who has slain my servants, or stay—take him +living,” screamed the Augusta. +</p> + +<p> +Now among those who had gathered was a certain lieutenant of my own, a +blue-eyed, flaxen-haired Norwegian giant of the name of Jodd. This man loved me +like a brother, I believe because once it had been my fortune to save his life. +Also often I had proved his friend when he was in trouble, for in those days +Jodd got drunk at times, and when he was drunk lost money which he could not +pay. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when he saw my case, I noted that this Jodd, who, if sober, was no fool at +all, although he seemed so slow and stupid, whispered something to a comrade +who was with him, whereon the man turned and fled away like an arrow. From the +direction in which he went I guessed at once that he was running to the +barracks close at hand, where were stationed quite three hundred Northmen, all +of whom were under my command. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers prepared to obey the Augusta’s orders, as they were bound to +do. They drew their swords and a number of them advanced towards me slowly. +Then it was that Jodd, with a few Northmen, moved between them and me, and, +saluting the Empress, said in his bad Greek, +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, Augusta, but why are we asked to kill our own +general?” +</p> + +<p> +“Obey my orders, fellow,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, Augusta,” said the stolid Jodd, “but before we +kill our own general, whom you commanded us to obey in all things, we would +know why we must kill him. It is a custom of our country that no man shall be +killed until he has been heard. General Olaf,” and drawing his short +sword for the first time, he saluted me in form, “be pleased to explain +to us why you are to be killed or taken prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +Now a tumult arose, and a eunuch in the background shouted to the soldiers to +obey the Empress’s orders, whereon again some of them began to advance. +</p> + +<p> +“If no answer is given to my question,” went on Jodd in his slow, +bull-like voice, “I fear that others must be killed besides the General +Olaf. Ho! Northmen. To me, Northmen! Ho! Britons, to me, Britons! Ho! Saxons, +to me, Saxons! Ho! all who are not accursed Greeks. To me all who are not +accursed Greeks!” +</p> + +<p> +Now at each cry of Jodd’s men leapt forward from the gathering crowd, +and, to the number of fifty or more in all, marshalled themselves behind him, +those of each nation standing shoulder to shoulder in little groups before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Is my question to be answered?” asked Jodd. “Because, if +not, although we be but one against ten, I think that ere the General Olaf is +cut down or taken there will be good fighting this night.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I spoke, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Jodd, and comrades, I will answer your question, and if I speak +wrongly let the Augusta correct me. This is the trouble. The lady Heliodore +here is my affianced wife. We were speaking together in this garden as the +affianced do. The Empress, who, unseen by us, was hidden behind those trees, +overheard our talk, which, for reasons best known to herself, for in it there +was naught of treason or any matter of the State, made her so angry that she +set her servants on to kill me. Thinking them murderers or robbers, I defended +myself, and there they lie, save one, who fled away wounded. Then the Empress +appeared and ordered me to kill the lady Heliodore. Comrades, look on her whom +the Empress ordered me to kill, and say whether, were she your affianced, you +would kill her even to please the Empress,” and, stepping to one side, I +showed them Heliodore in all her loveliness standing against the tree, the +drawn dagger in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +Now from those that Jodd had summoned there went up a roar of +“<i>No</i>,” while even the rest were silent. Irene sprang forward +and cried, +</p> + +<p> +“Are my orders to be canvassed and debated? Obey! Cut this man down or +take him living, I care not which, and with him all who cling to him, or +to-morrow you hang, every one of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the soldiers who had gathered also began to form up under their officers, +for they saw that before them was war and death. By this time they were many, +and as the alarm spread minute by minute more arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“Yield or we attack,” said he who had taken command of them. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that we yield,” answered Jodd; and just then there +came a sound of men running in ordered companies from the direction of the +Northmen’s barracks where Jodd’s messenger had told his tale. +</p> + +<p> +“I am <i>sure</i> that we do not yield,” continued Jodd, and +suddenly raised the wild northern war-cry, “<i>Valhalla, Valhalla! +Victory or Valhalla!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly from three hundred throats, above the sound of the running feet that +drew ever nearer, came the answering shout of “<i>Valhalla, Valhalla! +Victory or Valhalla!</i>” Then out of the gloom up dashed the Northmen. +</p> + +<p> +Now other shouts arose of “Olaf! Olaf! Olaf! Where is our General Olaf? +Where is Red-Sword?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, comrades!” roared Jodd, and up they came those fierce, +bearded men, glad with the lust of battle, and ranged themselves by companies +before us. Again the great voice of Jodd was heard, calling, +</p> + +<p> +“Empress, do you give us Olaf and his girl and swear by your Christ that +no harm shall come to them? Or must we take them for ourselves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” she cried back. “The only thing I give to you is +death. On to these rebels, soldiers!” +</p> + +<p> +Now, seeing what must come, I strove to speak, but Jodd shouted again, +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent, Olaf. For this hour you are not our general; you are a +prisoner whom it pleases us to rescue. Ring him round, Northmen, ring him +round. Bring the Empress, too; she will serve as hostage.” +</p> + +<p> +Now some of them drew behind us. Then they began to advance, taking us along +with them, and I, who was skilled in war, saw their purpose. They were drawing +out into the open glade, where they could see to fight, and where their flanks +would be protected by a stream of water on the one hand and a dense belt of +trees on the other. +</p> + +<p> +In her rage the Empress threw herself upon the ground, but two great fellows +lifted her up by the arms and thrust her along with us. Marching thus, we +reached the point that they had chosen, for the Greeks were in confusion and +not ready to attack. There we halted, just on the crest of a little rise of +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta,” I said, “in the name of God, I pray you to give +way. These Northmen hate your Byzantines, and will take this chance to pay off +their scores. Moreover, they love me, and will die to a man ere they see me +harmed, and then how shall I protect you in the fray?” +</p> + +<p> +She only glared at me and made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +The attack began. By this time fifteen hundred or so of the Imperial troops had +collected, and against them stood, perhaps, four hundred men in all, so that +the odds were great. Still, they had no horsemen or archers, and our position +was very good, also we were Northmen and they were Grecian scum. +</p> + +<p> +On came the Byzantines, screaming “Irene! Irene!” in a formation of +companies ranged one behind the other, for their object was to break in our +centre by their weight. Jodd saw, and gave some orders; very good orders, I +thought them. Then he sheathed his short-sword, seized the great battle-axe +which was his favourite weapon, and placed himself in front of our triple line +that waited in dead silence. +</p> + +<p> +Up the slope surged the charge, and on the crest of it the battle met. At first +the weight of the Greeks pressed us back, but, oh! they went down before the +Northmen’s steel like corn before the sickle, and soon that rush was +stayed. Breast to breast they hewed and thrust, and so fearful was the fray +that Irene, forgetting her rage, clung to me to protect her. +</p> + +<p> +The fight hung doubtful. As in a dream, I watched the giant Jodd cut down a +gorgeous captain, the axe shearing through his golden armour as though it were +but silk. I watched a comrade of my own fall beneath a spear-thrust. I gazed at +the face of Heliodore, who stared wide-eyed at the red scene, and at the +white-lipped Irene, who was clinging to my arm. Now we were being pressed back +again, we who at this point had at most two hundred men, some of whom were +down, to bear the onslaught of twice that number, and, do what I would, my +fingers strayed to my sword-hilt. +</p> + +<p> +Our triple line bent in like a bow and began to break. The scales of war hung +on the turn, when, from the dense belt of trees upon our left, suddenly rose +the cry of “<i>Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!</i>” for +which I, who had overheard Jodd’s orders, was waiting. These were his +orders—that half of the Northmen should creep down behind the belt of +trees in their dense shadow, and thus outflank the foe. +</p> + +<p> +Forth they sprang by companies of fifty, the moonlight gleaming on their mail, +and there, three hundred yards away, a new battle was begun. Now the Greeks in +front of us, fearing for their rear, wavered a moment and fell back, perhaps, +ten paces. I saw the opportunity and could bear no more, who before all things +was a soldier. +</p> + +<p> +Shouting to some of our wounded to watch the women, I drew my sword and leapt +forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I come, Northmen!” I cried, and was greeted with a roar of: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf Red-Sword! Follow Olaf Red-Sword!” for so the soldiers named +me. +</p> + +<p> +“Steady, Northmen! Shoulder to shoulder, Northmen!” I cried back. +“Now at them! Charge! <i>Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Down the slope they went before our rush. In thirty paces they were but a +huddled mob, on which our swords played like lightnings. We rolled them back on +to their supports, and those supports, outflanked, began to flee. We swept +through and through them. We slew them by hundreds, we trod them beneath our +victorious feet, and—oh! in that battle a strange thing happened to me. I +thought I saw my dead brother Ragnar fighting at my side; aye, and I thought I +heard him cry to me, in that lost, remembered voice: +</p> + +<p> +“The old blood runs in you yet, you Christian man! Oh! you fight well, +you Christian man. We of Valhalla give you greetings, Olaf Red-Sword. +<i>Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +It was done. Some were fled, but more were dead, for, once at grips, the +Northman showed no mercy to the Greek. Back we came, those who were left of us, +for many, perhaps a hundred, were not, and formed a ring round the women and +the wounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, Olaf,” said Heliodore; but Irene only looked at me with +a kind of wonder in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Now the leaders of the Northmen began to talk among themselves, but although +from time to time they glanced at me, they did not ask me to join in their +talk. Presently Jodd came forward and said in his slow voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf Red-Sword, we love you, who have always loved us, your comrades, as +we have shown you to-night. You have led us well, Olaf, and, considering our +small numbers, we have just won a victory of which we are proud. But our necks +are in the noose, as yours is, and we think that in this case our best course +is to be bold. Therefore, we name you Cæsar. Having defeated the Greeks, we +propose now to take the palace and to talk with the regiments without, many of +whom are disloyal and shout for Constantine, whom after all they hate only a +little less than they do Irene yonder. We know not what will be the end of the +matter and do not greatly care, who set our fortunes upon a throw of the dice, +but we think there is a good chance of victory. Do you accept, and will you +throw in your sword with ours?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I,” I answered, “when there stands the Empress, +whose bread I have eaten and to whom I have sworn fealty?” +</p> + +<p> +“An Empress, it seems, who desires to slay you over some matter that has +to do with a woman. Olaf, the daggers of her assassins have cut this thread of +fealty. Moreover, as it chances she is in our power, and as we cannot make our +crime against her blacker than it is, we propose to rid you and ourselves of +this Empress, who is our enemy, and who for her great wickedness well deserves +to die. Such is our offer, to take or to leave, as time is short. Should you +refuse it, we abandon you to your fate, and go to make our terms with +Constantine, who also hates this Empress and even now is plotting her +downfall.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke I saw certain men draw near to Irene for a purpose which I could +guess, and stepped between her and them. +</p> + +<p> +“The Augusta is my mistress,” I said, “and although I +attacked some of her troops but now, and she has wronged me much, still I +defend her to the last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Little use in that, Olaf, seeing that you are but one and we are +many,” answered Jodd. “Come, will you be Cæsar, or will you +not?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Irene crept up behind me and whispered in my ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Accept,” she said. “It pleases me well. Be Cæsar as my +husband. So you will save my life and my throne, of which I vow to you an equal +share. With the help of your Northmen and the legions I command and who cling +to me, we can defeat Constantine and rule the world together. This petty fray +is nothing. What matters it if some lives have been lost in a palace tumult? +The world lies in your grasp; take it, Olaf, and, with it, <i>me</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard and understood. Now had come the great moment of my life. Something +told me that on the one hand were majesty and empire; on the other much pain +and sorrow yet with these a certain holy joy and peace. It was the latter that +I chose, as doubtless Fate or God had decreed that I should do. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Augusta,” I said, “but, while I can protect +her, I will not seize a throne over the body of one who has been kind to me, +nor will I buy it at the price you offer. There stands my predestined wife, and +I can marry no other woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Irene turned to Heliodore, and said in a swift, low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you understand this matter, lady? Let us have done with jealousies +and be plain, for the lives of all of us hang upon threads that, for some, must +break within a day or two, and with them those of a thousand, thousand others. +Aye, the destiny of the world is at stake. You say you love this man, whom I +will tell you I love also. Well, if <i>you</i> win him, and he lives, which he +scarce can hope to do, he gets your kisses in whatever corner of the earth will +shelter him and you. If <i>I</i> win him, the empire of the earth is his. +Moreover, girl,” she added with meaning, “empresses are not always +jealous; sometimes even they can look the other way. There would be high place +for you within our Court, and, who knows? Your turn might come at length. Also +your father’s plans would be forwarded to the last pound of gold in our +treasury and the last soldier in our service. Within five years, mayhap, he +might rule Egypt as our Governor. What say you?” +</p> + +<p> +Heliodore looked at the Empress with that strange, slow smile of hers. Then she +looked at me, and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I say what Olaf says. There are two empires in the case. One, which you +can give, Augusta, is of the world; the other, which I can give him here, is +only a woman’s heart, yet, as I think, of another eternal world that you +do not know. I say what Olaf says. Let Olaf speak, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Empress,” I said slowly, “again I thank you, but it may not +be. My fate lies here,” and I laid my hand upon the heart of Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, Olaf,” answered the Empress, in a cold and quiet +voice, but seemingly without anger; “your fate lies there,” and she +pointed to the ground, then added, “Believe me, I am sorry, for you are a +man of whom any woman might be proud—yes, even an empress. I have always +thought it, and I thought it again just now when I saw you lead that charge +against those curs in armour,” and she pointed towards the bodies of the +Greeks. “So, it is finished, as perchance I am. If I must die, let it be +on your sword, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your answer, Olaf Red-Sword!” called Jodd. “You have talked +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your answer! Yes, your answer!” the Northmen echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“The Empress has offered to share her crown with me, Jodd, but, friends, +it cannot be, because of this lady to whom I am affianced.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marry them both,” shouted a rude voice, but Jodd replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is soon settled. Out of our path, Olaf, and look the other +way. When you turn your head again there will be no Empress to trouble you, +except one of your own choosing.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing these words, and seeing the swords draw near, Irene clutched hold of +me, for always she feared death above everything. +</p> + +<p> +“You will not see me butchered?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Not while I live,” I answered. “Hearken, friends. I am the +general of the Augusta’s guard, and if she dies, for honour’s sake +I must die first. Strike, then, if you will, but through my body.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tear her away!” called a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Comrades,” I went on, “be not so mad. To-night we have done +that which has earned us death, but while the Empress lives you have a hostage +in your hands with whom you can buy pardon. As a lump of clay what worth is she +to you? Hark! The regiments from the city!” +</p> + +<p> +As I spoke, from the direction of the palace came a sound of many voices and of +the tread of five thousand feet. +</p> + +<p> +“True enough,” said Jodd, with composure. “They are on us, +and now it is too late to storm the palace. Olaf, like many another man, you +have lost your chance of glory for a woman, or, who knows, perhaps you’ve +won it. Well, comrades, as I take it you are not minded to fly and be hunted +down like rats, only one thing remains—to die in a fashion they will +remember in Byzantium. Olaf, you’d best mind the women; I will take +command. Ring round, comrades, ring round! ’Tis a good place for it. Set +the wounded in the middle. Keep that Empress living for the present, but when +all is done, kill her. We’ll be her escort to the gates of hell, for +there she’s bound if ever woman was.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, without murmur or complaint, almost in silence, indeed, they formed +Odin’s Ring, that triple circle of the Northmen doomed to die; the +terrible circle that on many a battlefield has been hidden at last beneath the +heap of fallen foes. +</p> + +<p> +The regiments moved up; there were three of them of full strength. Irene stared +about her, seeking some loophole of escape, and finding none. Heliodore and I +talked together in low tones, making our tryst beyond the grave. The regiments +halted within fifty paces of us. They liked not the look of Odin’s Ring, +and the ground over which they had marched and the fugitives with whom they had +spoken told them that many of them looked their last upon the moon. +</p> + +<p> +Some mounted generals rode towards us and asked who was in command of the +Northmen. When they learned that it was Jodd, they invited him to a parley. The +end of it was that Jodd and two others stepped twenty paces from our ranks, and +met a councillor—it was Stauracius—and two of the generals in the +open, where no treachery could well be practised, especially as Stauracius was +not a man of war. Here they talked together for a long while. Then Jodd and his +companions returned, and Jodd said, so that all might hear him: +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken. These are the terms offered: That we return to our barracks in +peace, bearing our weapons. That nothing be laid to our charge under any law, +military or civil, by the State or private persons, for this night’s +slaying and tumult, and that in guarantee thereof twelve hostages of high rank, +upon whose names we have agreed, be given into our keeping. That we retain our +separate stations in the service of the Empire, or have leave to quit that +service within three months, with the gratuity of a quarter’s pay, and go +where we will unmolested. But that, in return for these boons, we surrender the +person of the Empress unharmed, and with her that of the General Olaf, to whom +a fair trial is promised before a military court. That with her own voice the +Augusta shall confirm all these undertakings before she leaves our ranks. Such +is the offer, comrades.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if we refuse it, what?” asked a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“This: That we shall be ringed round, and either starved out or shot down +by archers. Or, if we try to escape, that we shall be overwhelmed by numbers, +and any of us who chance to be taken living shall be hanged, sound and wounded +together.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the leaders of the Northmen consulted. Irene watched them for awhile, then +turned to me and asked, +</p> + +<p> +“What will they do, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say, Augusta,” I answered, “but I think that they +will offer to surrender you and not myself, since they may doubt them of that +fair trial which is promised to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which means,” she said, “that, whether I live or die, all +these brave men will be sacrificed to you, Olaf, who, after all, must perish +with them, as will this Egyptian. Are you prepared to accept that +blood-offering, Olaf? If so, you must have changed from the man I loved.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Augusta,” I answered, “I am not prepared. Rather would I +trust myself into your power, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +The conference of the officers had come to an end. Their leader advanced and +said, +</p> + +<p> +“We accept the terms, except as to the matter of Olaf Red-Sword. The +Empress may go free, but Olaf Red-Sword, our general whom we love, we will not +surrender. First will we die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Jodd. “I looked for such words from you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he marched out, with his companions, and again met Stauracius and the two +generals of the Greeks. After they had talked a little while he returned and +said, +</p> + +<p> +“Those two officers, being men, would have agreed, but Stauracius, the +eunuch, who seems in command, will not agree. He says that Olaf Red-Sword must +be surrendered with the Empress. We answered that in this case soon there would +be no Empress to surrender except one ready for burial. He replied that was as +God might decree; either both must be surrendered or both be held.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know why the dog said that?” whispered Irene to me. +“It was because those Northmen have let slip the offer I made to you but +now, and he is jealous of you, and fears you may take his power. Well, if I +live, one day he shall pay for this who cares so little for my life.” +</p> + +<p> +So she spoke, but I made no answer. Instead, I turned to Heliodore, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“You see how matters stand, beloved. Either I must surrender myself, or +all these brave men must perish, and we with them. For myself, I am ready to +die, but I am not willing that you and they should die. Also, if I yield, I can +do no worse than die, whereas perchance after all things will take another +turn. Now what say you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, follow your heart, Olaf,” she replied steadily. +“Honour comes first of all. The rest is with God. Wherever you go there I +soon shall be.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you,” I answered; “your mind is mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I stepped forward and said, +</p> + +<p> +“Comrades, it is my turn to throw in this great game. I have heard and +considered all, and I think it best that I should be surrendered, with the +Augusta, to the Greeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will not surrender you,” they shouted. +</p> + +<p> +“Comrades, I am still your general, and my order is that you surrender +me. Also, I have other orders to give to you. That you guard this lady +Heliodore to the last, and that, while one of you remains alive, she shall be +to you as though she were that man’s daughter, or mother, or sister, to +help and protect as best he may in every circumstance, seen or unforeseen. +Further, that with her you guard her father, the noble Egyptian Magas. Will you +promise this to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye!” they roared in answer. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear them, Heliodore,” I said. “Know that henceforth you +are one of a large family, and, however great your enemies, that you will never +lack a friend. Comrades,” I went on, “this is my second order, and +perchance the last that I shall ever give to you. Unless you hear that I am +evilly treated in the palace yonder, stay quiet. But if that tidings should +reach you, then all oaths are broken. Do what you can and will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye!” they roared again. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Afterwards what happened? It comes back to me but dimly. I think they swore the +Empress on the Blood of Christ that I should go unharmed. I think I embraced +Heliodore before them all, and gave her into their keeping. I think I whispered +into the ear of Jodd to seek out the Bishop Barnabas, and pray him to get her +and her father away to Egypt without delay—yes, even by force, if it were +needful. Then I think I left their lines, and that, as I went, leading the +Augusta by the hand, they gave to me the general’s salute. That I turned +and saluted them in answer ere I yielded myself into the power of my +god-father, Stauracius, who greeted me with a false and sickly smile. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER VIII<br/> +THE TRIAL OF OLAF</h2> + +<p> +I know not what time went by before I was put upon my trial, but that trial I +can still see as clearly as though it were happening before my eyes. It took +place in a long, low room of the vast palace buildings that was lighted only by +window-places set high up in the wall. These walls were frescoed, and at the +end of the room above the seat of the judges was a rude picture in bright +colours of the condemnation of Christ by Pilate. Pilate, I remember, was +represented with a black face, to signify his wickedness I suppose, and in the +air above him hung a red-eyed imp shaped like a bat who gripped his robe with +one claw and whispered into his ear. +</p> + +<p> +There were seven judges, he who presided being a law-officer, and the other six +captains of different grades, chosen mostly from among the survivors of those +troops whom the Northmen had defeated on the night of the battle in the palace +gardens. As this was a military trial, I was allowed no advocate to defend me, +nor indeed did I ask for any. The Court, however, was open and crowded with +spectators, among whom I saw most of the great officers of the palace, +Stauracius with them; also some ladies, one of whom was Martina, my god-mother. +The back of the long room was packed with soldiers and others, not all of whom +were my enemies. +</p> + +<p> +Into this place I was brought, guarded by four negroes, great fellows armed +with swords whom I knew to be chosen out of the number of the executioners of +the palace and the city. Indeed, one of them had served under me when I was +governor of the State prison, and been dismissed by me because of some cruelty +which he had practised. +</p> + +<p> +Noting all these things and the pity in Martina’s eyes, I knew that I was +already doomed, but as I had expected nothing else this did not trouble me over +much. +</p> + +<p> +I stood before the judges, and they stared at me. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you not salute us, fellow?” asked one of them, a mincing +Greek captain whom I had seen running like a hare upon the night of the fray. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Captain, I am of senior rank to any whom I see before me, and +as yet uncondemned. Therefore, if salutes are in the question, it is you who +should salute me.” +</p> + +<p> +At this speech they stared at me still harder than before, but among the +soldiers at the end of the hall there arose something like a murmur of +applause. +</p> + +<p> +“Waste no time in listening to his insolence,” said the president +of the Court. “Clerk, set out the case.” +</p> + +<p> +Then a black-robed man who sat beneath the judges rose and read the charge to +me from a parchment. It was brief and to the effect that I, Michael, formerly +known as Olaf or Olaf Red-Sword, a Northman in the service of the Empress +Irene, a general in her armies, a chamberlain and Master of the Palace, had +conspired against the Empress, had killed her servants, had detained her +person, threatening to murder her; had made war upon her troops and slain some +hundreds of them by the help of other Northmen, and wounded many more. +</p> + +<p> +I was asked what I pleaded to this charge, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +“I am not guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +Then witnesses were called. The first of these was the fourth man whom Irene +had set upon me, who alone escaped with a wound behind. This fellow, having +been carried into court, for he could not walk, leaned over a bar, for he could +not sit down, and told his story. When he had finished I was allowed to examine +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did the Empress order you and your companions to attack me?” I +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I think because she saw you kiss the Egyptian lady, General,” at +which answer many laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You tried to kill me, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, General, for the Empress ordered us so to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“You killed or cut down three of us one after the other, General, being +too skilful and strong for us. As I turned to fly, me you wounded here,” +and, dragging himself round with difficulty, he showed how my sword had fallen +on a part where no soldier should receive a wound. At this sight those in the +Court laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I provoke you in any way before you attacked me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, General. It was the Empress you provoked by kissing the +beautiful Egyptian lady. At least, I think so, since every time you kissed each +other she seemed to become more mad, and at last ordered us to kill both of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the laughter grew very loud, for even the Court officers could no longer +restrain themselves, and the ladies hid their faces in their hands and +tittered. +</p> + +<p> +“Away with that fool!” shouted the president of the Court, and the +poor fellow was hustled out. What became of him afterwards I do not know, +though I can guess. +</p> + +<p> +Now appeared witness after witness who told of the fray which I have described +already, though for the most part they tried to put another colour on the +matter. Of many of these men I asked no questions. Indeed, growing weary of +their tales, I said at length to the judges, +</p> + +<p> +“Sirs, what need is there for all this evidence, seeing that among you I +perceive three gallant officers whom I saw running before the Northmen that +night, when with some four hundred swords we routed about two thousand of you? +You yourselves, therefore, are the best witnesses of what befell. Moreover, I +acknowledge that, being moved by the sight of war, in the end I led the charge +against you, before which charge some died and many fled, you among +them.” +</p> + +<p> +Now these captains glowered at me and the president said, +</p> + +<p> +“The prisoner is right. What need is there of more evidence?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think much, sir,” I answered, “since but one side of the +story has been heard. Now I will call witnesses, of whom the first should be +the Augusta, if she is willing to appear and tell you what happened within the +circle of the Northmen on that night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call the Augusta!” gasped the president. “Perchance, +prisoner Michael, you will wish next to call God Himself on your behalf?” +</p> + +<p> +“That, sir,” I answered, “I have already done and do. +Moreover,” I added slowly, “of this I am sure, that in a time to +come, although it be not to-morrow or the next day, you and everyone who has to +do with this case will find that I have not called Him in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words for a few moments a solemn silence fell upon the Court. It was +as though they had gone home to the heart of everyone who was present there. +Also I saw the curtains that draped a gallery high up in the wall shake a +little. It came into my mind that Irene herself was hidden behind those +curtains, as afterwards I learned was the case, and that she had made some +movement which caused them to tremble. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the president, after this pause, “as God does +not appear to be your witness, and as you have no other, seeing that you cannot +give evidence yourself under the law, we will now proceed to judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who says that the General Olaf, Olaf Red-Sword, has no witness?” +exclaimed a deep voice at the end of the hall. “I am here to be his +witness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who speaks?” asked the president. “Let him come +forward.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a disturbance at the end of the hall, and through the crowd that he +seemed to throw before him to right and left appeared the mighty form of Jodd. +He was clad in full armour and bore his famous battle-axe in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“One whom some of you know well enough, as others of your company who +will never know anything again have done in the past. One named Jodd, the +Northman, second in command of the guard to the General Olaf,” he +answered, and marched to the spot where witnesses were accustomed to stand. +</p> + +<p> +“Take away that barbarian’s axe,” exclaimed an officer who +sat among the judges. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” said Jodd, “come hither, mannikin, and take it away if +you can. I promise you that along with it something else shall be taken away, +to wit your fool’s head. Who are you that would dare to disarm an officer +of the Imperial Guard?” +</p> + +<p> +After this there was no more talk of removing Jodd’s axe, and he +proceeded to give his evidence, which, as it only detailed what has been +written already, need not be repeated. What effect it produced upon the judges, +I cannot say, but that it moved those present in the Court was clear enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you done?” asked the president at length when the story was +finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Not altogether,” said Jodd. “Olaf Red-Sword was promised an +open trial, and that he has, since otherwise I and some friends of mine could +not be in this Court to tell the truth, where perhaps the truth has seldom been +heard before. Also he was promised a fair trial, and that he has not, seeing +that the most of his judges are men with whom he fought the other day and who +only escaped his sword by flight. To-morrow I propose to ask the people of +Byzantium whether it is right that a man should be tried by his conquered +enemies. Now I perceive that you will find a verdict of ‘guilty’ +against Olaf Red-Sword, and perhaps condemn him to death. Well, find what +verdict you will and pass what sentence you will, but do not dare to attempt to +execute that sentence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dare! Dare!” shouted the president. “Who are you, man, who +would dictate to a Court appointed by the Empress what it shall or shall not +do? Be careful lest we pass sentence on you as well as on your fellow-traitor. +Remember where you stand, and that if I lift my finger you will be taken and +bound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, lawyer, I remember this and other things. For instance, that I have +the safe-conduct of the Empress under an oath sworn on the Cross of the Christ +she worships. For instance, also, that I have three hundred comrades waiting my +safe return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three hundred!” snarled the president. “The Empress has +three thousand within these walls who will soon make an end of your three +hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been told, lawyer,” answered Jodd, “that once there +lived another monarch, one called Xerxes, who thought that he would make an end +of a certain three hundred Greeks, when Greeks were different from what you are +to-day, at a place called Thermopylæ. He made an end of them, but they cost him +more than he cared to pay, and now it is those Greeks who live for ever and +Xerxes who is dead. But that’s not all; since that fray the other night +we Northmen have found friends. Have you heard of the Armenian legions, +President, those who favour Constantine? Well, kill Olaf Red-Sword, or kill me, +Jodd, and you have to deal first with the Northmen and next with the Armenian +legions. Now here I am waiting to be taken by any who can pass this axe.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words a great silence fell upon the Court. Jodd glared about him, and, +seeing that none ventured to draw near, stepped from the witness-place, +advanced to where I was, gave me the full salute of ceremony, then marched away +to the back of the Court, the crowd opening a path for him. +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone the judges began to consult together, and, as I expected, very +soon agreed upon their verdict. The president said, or rather gabbled, +</p> + +<p> +“Prisoner, we find you guilty. Have you any reason to offer why sentence +of death should not be passed upon you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” I answered, “I am not here to plead for my life, which +already I have risked a score of times in the service of your people. Yet I +would say this. On the night of the outbreak I was set on, four to one, for no +crime, as you have heard, and did but protect myself. Afterwards, when I was +about to be slain, the Northmen, my comrades, protected me unasked; then I did +my best to save the life of the Empress, and, in fact, succeeded. My only +offence is that when the great charge took place and your regiments were +defeated, remembering only that I was a soldier, I led that charge. If this is +a crime worthy of death, I am ready to die. Yet I hold that both God and man +will give more honour to me the criminal than to you the judges, and to those +who before ever you sat in this Court instructed you, whom I know to be but +tools, as to the verdict that you should give.” +</p> + +<p> +The applause which my words called forth from those gathered at the end of the +Court died away. In the midst of a great silence the president, who, like his +companions, I could see well, was growing somewhat fearful, read the sentence +in a low voice from a parchment. After setting out the order by which the Court +was constituted and other matters, it ran: +</p> + +<p> +“We condemn you, Michael, otherwise called Olaf or Olaf Red-Sword, to +death. This sentence will be executed with or without torture at such time and +in such manner as it may please the Augusta to decree.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the voice of Jodd was heard crying through the gathering gloom, for night +was near: +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of judgment is this that the judges bring already written down +into the Court? Hearken you, lawyer, and you street-curs, his companions, who +call yourselves soldiers. If Olaf Red-Sword dies, those hostages whom we hold +die also. If he is tortured, those hostages will be tortured also. Moreover, +ere long we will sack this fine place, and what has befallen Olaf shall befall +you also, you false judges, neither less nor more. Remember it, all you who +shall have charge of Olaf in his bonds, and, if she be within hearing, let the +Augusta Irene remember it also, lest another time there should be no Olaf to +save her life.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I could see that the judges were terrified. Hastily, with white faces, they +consulted together as to whether they should order Jodd to be seized. Presently +I heard the president say to his companions: +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, best let him go. If he is touched, our hostages will die. Moreover, +doubtless Constantine and the Armenians are at the back of him, or he would not +dare to speak thus. Would that we were clear of this business which has been +thrust upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he called aloud, “Let the prisoner be removed.” +</p> + +<p> +Down the long Court I was marched, only now guards, who had been called in, +went in front of and behind me, and with them the four executioners by whom I +was surrounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, god-mother,” I whispered to Martina as I passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, not farewell,” she whispered back, looking up at me with eyes +that were full of tears, though what she meant I did not know. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the Court, where those who dared to sympathise with me openly +were gathered, rough voices called blessings on me and rough hands patted me on +the shoulder. To one of these men whose voice I recognised in the gloom I +turned to speak a word. Thereon the black executioner who was between us, he +whom I had dismissed from the jail for cruelty, struck me on the mouth with the +back of his hand. Next instant I heard a sound that reminded me of the growl +the white bear gave when it gripped Steinar. Two arms shot out and caught that +black savage by the head. There was a noise as of something breaking, and down +went the man—a corpse. +</p> + +<p> +Then they hurried me away, for now it was not only the judges who were afraid. +</p> + +<p> +It comes to me that for some days, three or four, I sat in my cell at the +palace, for here I was kept because, as I learned afterwards, it was feared +that if I were removed to that State prison of which I had been governor, some +attempt would be made to rescue me. +</p> + +<p> +This cell was one of several situated beneath that broad terrace which looked +out on to the sea, where Irene had first questioned me as to the shell necklace +and, against my prayer, had set it upon her own breast. It had a little barred +window, out of which I could watch the sea, and through this window came the +sound of sentries tramping overhead and of the voice of the officer who, at +stated hours, arrived to turn out the guard, as for some years it had been my +duty to do. +</p> + +<p> +I wondered who that officer might be, and wondered also how many of such men +since Byzantium became the capital of the Empire had filled his office and +mine, and what had become of them all. As I knew, if that terrace had been able +to speak, it could have told many bloody histories, whereof doubtless mine +would be another. Doubtless, too, there were more to follow until the end came, +whatever that might be. +</p> + +<p> +In that strait place I reflected on many things. All my youth came back to me. +I marvelled what had happened at Aar since I left it such long years ago. Once +or twice rumours had reached me from men in my company, who were Danish-born, +that Iduna was a great lady there and still unmarried. But of Freydisa I had +heard nothing. Probably she was dead, and, if so, I felt sure that her fierce +and faithful spirit must be near me now, as that of Ragnar had seemed to be in +the Battle of the Garden. +</p> + +<p> +How strange it was that after all my vision had been fulfilled and it had been +my lot to meet her of whom I had dreamed, wearing that necklace of which I had +found one-half upon the Wanderer in his grave-mound. Were I and the Wanderer +the same spirit, I asked of myself, and she of the dream and Heliodore the same +woman? +</p> + +<p> +Who could tell? At least this was sure, from the moment that first we saw one +another we knew we belonged each to each for the present and the future. +Therefore, as it was with these we had to do, the past might sleep and all its +secrets. +</p> + +<p> +Now we had met but to be parted again by death, which seemed hard indeed. Yet +since we <i>had</i> met, for my part Fate had my forgiveness for I knew that we +should meet again. I looked back on what I had done and left undone, and could +not blame myself overmuch. True, it would have been wiser if I had stayed by +Irene and Heliodore, and not led that charge against the Greeks. Only then, as +a soldier, I should never have forgiven myself, for how could I stand still +while my comrades fought for me? No, no, I was glad I had led the charge and +led it well, though my life must pay its price. Nor was this so. I must die, +not because I had lifted sword against Irene’s troops, but for the sin of +loving Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +After all, what was life as we knew it? A passing breath! Well, as the body +breathes many million times between the cradle and the grave, so I believed the +soul must breathe out its countless lives, each ending in a form of death. And +beyond these, what? I did not know, yet my new-found faith gave me much +comfort. +</p> + +<p> +In such meditations and in sleep I passed my hours, waiting always until the +door of my cell should open and through it appear, not the jailer with my food, +which I noted was plentiful and delicate, but the executioners or mayhap the +tormentors. +</p> + +<p> +At length it did open, somewhat late at night, just as I was about to lay +myself down to rest, and through it came a veiled woman. I bowed and motioned +to my visitor to be seated on the stool that was in the cell, then waited in +silence. Presently she threw off her veil, and in the light of the lamp showed +that I stood before the Empress Irene. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said hoarsely, “I am come here to save you from +yourself, if it may be so. I was hidden in yonder Court, and heard all that +passed at your trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed as much, Augusta,” I said, “but what of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“For one thing, this: The coward and fool, who now is dead—of his +wounds—who gave evidence as to the killing of the three other cowards by +you, has caused my name to become a mock throughout Constantinople. Aye, the +vilest make songs upon me in the streets, such songs as I cannot repeat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am grieved, Augusta,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I who should grieve, not you, who are told of as a man who grew +weary of the love of an Empress, and cast her off as though she were a tavern +wench. That is the first matter. The second is that under the finding of the +Court of Justice——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Augusta,” I interrupted, “why stain your lips with those +words ‘of justice’!” +</p> + +<p> +“——Under the finding of the Court,” she went on, +“your fate is left in my hands. I may kill you or torment your body. Or I +may spare you and raise your head higher than any other in the Empire, aye, and +adorn it with a crown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless you may do any of these things, Augusta, but which of them do +you wish to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, notwithstanding all that has gone, I would still do the last. I +speak to you no more of love or tenderness, nor do I pretend that this is for +your sake alone. It is for mine also. My name is smirched, and only marriage +can cover up the stain upon it. Moreover, I am beset by troubles and by +dangers. Those accursed Northmen, who love you so well and who fight, not like +men but like devils, are in league with the Armenian legions and with +Constantine. My generals and my troops fall away from me. If it were assailed, +I am not sure that I could hold this palace, strong though it be. There’s +but one man who can make me safe again, and that man is yourself. The Northmen +will do your bidding, and with you in command of them I fear no attack. You +have the honesty, the wit and the soldier’s skill and courage. You must +command, or none. Only this time it must not be as Irene’s lover, for +that is what they name you, but as her husband. A priest is waiting within +call, and one of high degree. Within an hour, Olaf, you may be my consort, and +within a year the Emperor of the World. Oh!” she went on with passion, +“cannot you forgive what seem to be my sins when you remember that they +were wrought for love of you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta,” I said, “I have small ambition; I am not minded to +be an emperor. But hearken. Put aside this thought of marriage with one so far +beneath you, and let me marry her whom I have chosen, and who has chosen me. +Then once more I’ll take command of the Northmen and defend you and your +cause to the last drop of my blood.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face hardened. +</p> + +<p> +“It may not be,” she said, “not only for those reasons I have +told you, but for another which I grieve to have to tell. Heliodore, daughter +of Magas the Egyptian, is dead.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” I gasped. “Dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Olaf, dead. You did not see, and she, being a brave woman, hid it +from you, but one of those spears that were flung in the fight struck her in +the side. For a while the wound went well. But two days ago it mortified; last +night she died and this morning I myself saw her buried with honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you see her buried, you who are not welcome among the +Northmen?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By my order, as her blood was high, she was laid in the palace +graveyard, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she leave me no word or token, Augusta? She swore to me that if she +died she would send to me the other half of that necklace which I wear.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of none,” said Irene, “but you will know, Olaf, +that I have other business to attend to just now than such death-bed gossip. +These things do not come to my ears.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at Irene and Irene looked at me. +</p> + +<p> +“Augusta,” I said, “I do not believe your story. No spear +wounded Heliodore while I was near her, and when I was not near her your Greeks +were too far away for any spears to be thrown. Indeed, unless you stabbed her +secretly, she was not wounded, and I am sure that, however much you have hated +her, this you would not have dared to do for your own life’s sake. +Augusta, for your own purposes you are trying to deceive me. I will not marry +you. Do your worst. You have lied to me about the woman whom I love, and though +I forgive you all the rest, this I do not forgive. You know well that Heliodore +still lives beneath the sun.” +</p> + +<p> +“If so,” answered the Empress, “you have looked your last +upon the sun and—her. Never again shall you behold the beauty of +Heliodore. Have you aught to say? There is still time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, Augusta, at present, except this. Of late I have learned to +believe in a God. I summon you to meet me before that God. There we will argue +out our case and abide His judgment. If there is no God there will be no +judgment, and I salute you, Empress, who triumph. If, as I believe and as you +say you believe, there is a God, think whom <i>you</i> will be called upon to +salute when that God has heard the truth. Meanwhile I repeat that Heliodore the +Egyptian still lives beneath the sun.” +</p> + +<p> +Irene rose from the stool on which she sat and thought a moment. I gazed +through the bars of the window-place in my cell out at the night above. A young +moon was floating in the sky, and near to it hung a star. A little passing +cloud with a dented edge drifted over the star and the lower horn of the moon. +It went by, and they shone out again upon the background of the blue heavens. +Also an owl flitted across the window-place of my cell. It had a mouse in its +beak, and the shadow of it and of the writhing mouse for a moment lay upon +Irene’s breast, for I turned my head and saw them. It came into my mind +that here was an allegory. Irene was the night-hawk, and I was the writhing +mouse that fed its appetite. Doubtless it was decreed that the owl must be and +the mouse must be, but beyond them both, hidden in those blue heavens, stood +that Justice which we call God. +</p> + +<p> +These were the last things that I saw in this life of mine, and therefore I +remember them well, or rather, almost the last. The very last of which I took +note was Irene’s face. It had grown like to that of a devil. The great +eyes in it stared out between the puffed and purple eyelids. The painted cheeks +had sunk in and were pallid beneath and round the paint. The teeth showed in +two white lines, the chin worked. She was no longer a beautiful woman, she was +a fiend. +</p> + +<p> +Irene knocked thrice upon the door. Bolts were thrown back, and men entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Blind him!” she said. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER IX<br/> +THE HALL OF THE PIT</h2> + +<p> +The days and the nights went by, but which was day and which was night I knew +not, save for the visits of the jailers with my meals—I who was blind, I +who should never see the light again. At first I suffered much, but by degrees +the pain died away. Also a physician came to tend my hurts, a skilful man. Soon +I discovered, however, that he had another object. He pitied my state, so much, +indeed, he said, that he offered to supply me with a drug that, if I were +willing to take it, would make an end of me painlessly. Now I understood at +once that Irene desired my death, and, fearing to cause it, set the means of +self-murder within my reach. +</p> + +<p> +I thanked the man and begged him to give me the drug, which he did, whereon I +hid it away in my garments. When it was seen that I still lived although I had +asked for the medicine, I think that Irene believed this was because it had +failed to work, or that such a means of death did not please me. So she found +another. One evening when a jailer brought my supper he pressed something heavy +into my hand, which I felt to be a sword. +</p> + +<p> +“What weapon is this?” I asked, “and why do you give it to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is your own sword,” answered the man, “which I was +commanded to return to you. I know no more.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went away, leaving the sword with me. +</p> + +<p> +I drew the familiar blade from its sheath, the red blade that the Wanderer had +worn, and touching its keen edge with my fingers, wept from my blinded eyes to +think that never again could I hold it aloft in war or see the light flash from +it as I smote. Yes, I wept in my weakness, till I remembered that I had no +longer any wish to be the death of men. So I sheathed the good sword and hid it +beneath my mattress lest some jailer should steal it, which, as I could not see +him, he might do easily. Also I desired to put away temptation. +</p> + +<p> +I think that this hour after the bringing of the sword, which stirred up so +many memories, was the most fearful of all my hours, so fearful that, had it +been prolonged, death would have come to me of its own accord. I had sunk to +misery’s lowest deep, who did not know that even then its tide was +turning, who could not dream of all the blessed years that lay before me, the +years of love and of such peaceful joy as even the blind may win. +</p> + +<p> +That night Martina came—Martina, who was Hope’s harbinger. I heard +the door of my prison open and close softly, and sat still, wondering whether +the murderers had entered at last, wondering, too, whether I should snatch the +sword and strike blindly till I fell. Next I heard another sound, that of a +woman weeping; yes, and felt my hand lifted and pressed to a woman’s +lips, which kissed it again and yet again. A thought struck me, and I began to +draw it back. A soft voice spoke between its sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, Olaf. I am Martina. Oh, now I understand why yonder +tigress sent me on that distant mission.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come here, Martina?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I still have the signet, Olaf, which Irene, who begins to mistrust me, +forgets. Only this morning I learned the truth on my return to the palace; yet +I have not been idle. Within an hour Jodd and the Northmen knew it also. Within +three they had blinded every hostage whom they held, aye, and caught two of the +brutes who did the deed on you, and crucified them upon their barrack +walls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Martina,” I broke in, “I did not desire that others who +are innocent should share my woes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did I, Olaf; but these Northmen are ill to play with. Moreover, in a +sense it was needful. You do not know what I have learned—that to-morrow +Irene proposed to slit your tongue also because you can tell too much, and +afterwards to cut off your right hand lest you, who are learned, should write +down what you know. I told the Northmen—never mind how. They sent a +herald, a Greek whom they had captured, and, covering him with arrows, made him +call out that if your tongue was slit they would know of it and slit the +tongues of all the hostages also, and that if your hand was cut off they could +cut off their hands, and take another vengeance which for the present they keep +secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least they are faithful,” I said. “But, oh! tell me, +Martina, what of Heliodore?” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” she whispered into my ear. “Heliodore and her father +sailed an hour after sunset and are now safe upon the sea, bound for +Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I was right! When Irene told me she was dead she lied.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, if she said that she lied, though thrice she has striven to murder +her, I have no time to tell you how, but was always baffled by those who +watched. Yet she might have succeeded at last, so, although Heliodore fought +against it, it was best that she should go. Those who are parted may meet +again; but how can we meet one who is dead until we too are dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“How did she go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Smuggled from the city disguised as a boy attending on a priest, and +that priest her father shorn of his beard and tonsured. The Bishop Barnabas +passed them out in his following.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then blessings on the Bishop Barnabas,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, blessings on him, since without his help it could never have been +done. The secret agents at the port stared hard at those two, although the good +bishop vouched for them and gave their names and offices. Still, when they saw +some rough-looking fellows dressed like sailors approach, playing with the +handles of their knives, the agents thought well to ask no more questions. +Moreover, now that the ship has sailed, for their own sakes they’ll swear +that no such priest and boy went aboard of her. So your Heliodore is away +unharmed, as is her father, though his mission has come to naught. Still, his +life is left in him, for which he may be thankful, who on such a business +should have brought no woman. If he had come alone, Olaf, your eyes would have +been left to you, and set by now upon the orb of empire that your hand had +grasped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I am glad that he did not come alone, Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly you have a high and faithful heart, and that woman should be +honoured whom you love. What is the secret? There must be more in it than the +mere desire for a woman’s beauty, though I know that at times this can +make men mad. In such a business the soul must play its part.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, Martina. Indeed, I believe so, since otherwise we suffer +much in vain. Now tell me, how and when do I die?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will not die at all, Olaf. Certain plans are laid which even +here I dare not whisper. To-morrow I hear they will lead you again before the +judges, who, by Irene’s clemency, will change your sentence to one of +banishment, with secret orders to kill you on the voyage. But you will never +make that voyage. Other schemes are afoot; you’ll learn of them +afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, Martina, if you know these plots the Augusta knows them also, since +you and she are one.” +</p> + +<p> +“When those dagger points were thrust into your eyes, Olaf, they cut the +thread that bound us, and now Irene and I are more far apart than hell and +heaven. I tell you that for your sake I hate her and work her downfall. Am I +not your god-mother, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +Then again she kissed my hand and presently was gone. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the following morning, as I supposed it to be, my jailers came and said to +me that I must appear before the judges to hear some revision of my sentence. +They dressed me in my soldier’s gear, and even allowed me to gird my +sword about me, knowing, doubtless, that, save to himself, a blind man could do +no mischief with a sword. Then they led me I know not whither by passages which +turned now here, now there. At length we entered some place, for doors were +closed behind us. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the Hall of Judgment,” said one of them, “but the +judges have not yet come. It is a great room and bare. There is nothing in it +against which you can hurt yourself. Therefore, if it pleases you after being +cramped so long in that narrow cell, you may walk to and fro, keeping your +hands in front of you so that you will know when you touch the further wall and +must turn.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked them and, glad enough to avail myself of this grace for my limbs were +stiff with want of exercise, began to walk joyfully. I thought that the room +must be one of those numberless apartments which opened on to the terrace, +since distinctly I could hear the wash of the sea coming from far beneath, +doubtless through the open window-places. +</p> + +<p> +Forward I stepped boldly, but at a certain point in my march this curious thing +happened. A hand seemed to seize my own and draw me to the left. Wondering, I +followed the guidance of the hand, which presently left hold of mine. Thereon I +continued my march, and as I did so, thought that I heard another sound, like +to that of a suppressed murmur of human voices. Twenty steps more and I reached +the end of the chamber, for my outstretched fingers touched its marble wall. I +turned and marched back, and lo! at the twentieth step that hand took mine +again and led me to the right, whereon once more the murmur of voices reached +me. +</p> + +<p> +Thrice this happened, and every time the murmur grew more loud. Indeed, I +thought I heard one say, +</p> + +<p> +“The man’s not blind at all,” and another, “Some spirit +guides him.” +</p> + +<p> +As I made my fourth journey I caught the sound of a distant tumult, the shouts +of war, the screams of agony, and above them all the well-remembered cry of +“<i>Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +I halted where I was and felt the blood rush into my wasted cheeks. The +Northmen, my Northmen, were in the palace! It was at this that Martina had +hinted. Yet in so vast a place what chance was there that they would ever find +me, and how, being blind, could I find them? Well, at least my voice was left +to me, and I would lift it. +</p> + +<p> +So with all my strength I cried aloud, “Olaf Red-Sword is here! To Olaf, +men of the North!” +</p> + +<p> +Thrice I cried. I heard folk running, not to me, but from me, doubtless those +whose whispers had reached my ears. +</p> + +<p> +I thought of trying to follow them, but the soft and gentle hand, which was +like to that of a woman, once more clasped mine and held me where I was, +suffering me to move no single inch. So there I stood, even after the hand had +loosed me again, for it seemed to me that there was something most strange in +this business. +</p> + +<p> +Presently another sound arose, the sound of the Northmen pouring towards the +hall, for feet clanged louder and louder down the marble corridors. More, they +had met those who were running from the hall, for now these fled back before +them. They were in the hall, for a cry of horror, mingled with rage, broke from +their lips. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis Olaf,” said one, “Olaf blinded, and, by Thor, see +where he stands!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Jodd’s voice roared out, +</p> + +<p> +“Move not, Olaf; move not, or you die.” +</p> + +<p> +Another voice, that of Martina, broke in, “Silence, you fool, or +you’ll frighten him and make him fall. Silence all, and leave him to +me!” +</p> + +<p> +Then quiet fell upon the place; it seemed that even the pursued grew quiet, and +I heard the rustle of a woman’s dress drawing towards me. Next instant a +soft hand took my own, just such a hand as not long ago had seemed to guide and +hold me, and Martina’s voice said, +</p> + +<p> +“Follow where I lead, Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +So I followed eight or ten paces. Then Martina threw her arms about me and +burst into wild laughter. Someone caught her away; next moment two hair-clad +lips kissed me on the brow and the mighty voice of Jodd shouted, +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks be to all the gods, dwell they in the north or in the south! We +have saved you! Know you where you stood, Olaf? On the brink of a pit, the very +brink, and beneath is a fall of a hundred feet to where the waters of the +Bosphorus wash among the rocks. Oh! understand this pretty Grecian game. They, +good Christian folk, would not have your blood upon their souls, and therefore +they caused you to walk to your own death. Well, they shall be dosed with the +draught they brewed. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring them hither, comrades, bring them one by one, these devils who +could sit to watch a blind man walk to his doom to make their sport. Ah! whom +have we here? Why, by Thor! ’tis the lawyer knave, he who was president +of the court that tried you, and was angry because you did not salute him. +Well, lawyer, the wheel has gone round. We Northmen are in possession of the +palace and the Armenian legions are gathered at its gates and do but wait for +Constantine the Emperor to enter and take the empire and its crown. +They’ll be here anon, lawyer, but you understand, having a certain life +to save, for word had been brought to us of your pretty doings, that we were +forced to strike before the signal, and struck not in vain. Now we’ll +fill in the tedious time with a trial of our own. See here, I am president of +the court, seated in this fine chair, and these six to right and left are my +companion judges, while you seven who were judges are now prisoners. You know +the crime with which you are charged, so there’s no need to set it out. +Your defence, lawyer, and be swift with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! sir,” said the man in a trembling voice, “what we did to +the General Olaf we were ordered to do by one who may not be named.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d best find the name, lawyer, for were it that of a god we +Northmen would hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, by the Augusta herself. She wished the death of the noble +Michael, or Olaf, but having become superstitious about the matter, would not +have his blood directly on her hands. Therefore she bethought her of this plan. +He was ordered to be brought into the place you see, which is known as the Hall +of the Pit, that in old days was used by certain bloody-minded emperors to rid +them of their enemies. The central pavement swings upon a hinge. At a touch it +opens, and he who has thought it sound and walked thereon, when darkness comes +is lost, since he falls upon the rocks far below, and at high tide the water +takes him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, we understand the game, lawyer, for there yawns the open pit. +But have you aught more to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, sir, nothing, save that we only did what we were driven to do. +Moreover, no harm has come of it, since whenever the noble general came to the +edge of the opened pit, although he was blind, he halted and went off to right +or left as though someone drew him out of danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, cruel and unjust judges, who could gather to mock at the +murder of a blinded man that you had trapped to his doom——” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” broke in one of them, “it was not we who tried to trap +him; it was those jailers who stand there. They told the general that he might +exercise himself by walking up and down the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that true, Olaf?” asked Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “it is true that the two jailers who +brought me here did tell me this, though whether those men are present I cannot +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said Jodd. “Add them to the other prisoners, who +by their own showing heard them set the snare and did not warn the victim. Now, +murderers all, this is the sentence of the court upon you: That you salute the +General Olaf and confess your wickedness to him.” +</p> + +<p> +So they saluted me, kneeling, and kissing my feet, and one and all made +confession of their crime. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough,” I said, “I pardon them who are but tools. Pray to +God that He may do as much.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may pardon here, Olaf,” said Jodd, “and your God may +pardon hereafter, but we, the Northmen, do not pardon. Blindfold those men and +bind their arms. Now,” went on Jodd after a pause, “their turn has +come to show us sport. Run, friends, run, for swords are behind you. Can you +not feel them?” +</p> + +<p> +The rest may be guessed. Within a few minutes the seven judges and the two +jailers had vanished from the world. No hand came to save <i>them</i> from the +cruel rocks and the waters that seethed a hundred feet below that dreadful +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +This fantastic, savage vengeance was a thing dreadful to hear; what it must +have been to see I can only guess. I know that I wished I might have fled from +it and that I pleaded with Jodd for mercy on these men. But neither he nor his +companions would listen to me. +</p> + +<p> +“What mercy had they on you?” he cried. “Let them drink from +their own cup.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let them drink from their own cup!” roared his companions, and +then broke into a roar of laughter as one of the false judges, feeling space +before him, leapt, leapt short, and with a shriek departed for ever. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was over. I heard someone enter the hall and whisper in Jodd’s ear; +heard his answer also. +</p> + +<p> +“Let her be brought hither,” he said. “For the rest, bid the +captains hold Stauracius and the others fast. If there is any sign of stir +against us, cut their throats, advising them that this will be done should they +allow trouble to arise. Do not fire the palace unless I give the word, for it +would be a pity to burn so fine a building. It is those who dwell in it who +should be burned; but doubtless Constantine will see to that. Collect the +richest of the booty, that which is most portable, and let it be carried to our +quarters in the baggage carts. See that these things are done quickly, before +the Armenians get their hands into the bag. I’ll be with you soon; but if +the Emperor Constantine should arrive first, tell him that all has gone well, +better than he hoped, indeed, and pray him to come hither, where we may take +counsel.” +</p> + +<p> +The messenger went. Jodd and some of the Northmen began to consult together, +and Martina led me aside. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what has chanced, Martina,” I asked, “for I am +bewildered.” +</p> + +<p> +“A revolution, that is all, Olaf. Jodd and the Northmen are the point of +the spear, its handle is Constantine, and the hands that hold it are the +Armenians. It has been very well done. Some of the guards who remained were +bribed, others frightened away. Only a few fought, and of them the Northmen +made short work. Irene and her ministers were fooled. They thought the blow +would not fall for a week or more, if at all, since the Empress believed that +she had appeased Constantine by her promises. I’ll tell you more +later.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you find me, Martina, and in time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Olaf, it is a terrible story. Almost I swoon again to think of it. +It was thus: Irene discovered that I had visited you in your cell; she grew +suspicious of me. This morning I was seized and ordered to surrender the +signet; but first I had heard that they planned your death to-day, not a +sentence of banishment and murder afar off, as I told you. My last act before I +was taken was to dispatch a trusted messenger to Jodd and the Northmen, telling +them that if they would save you alive they must strike at once, and not +to-night, as had been arranged. Within thirty seconds after he had left my side +the eunuchs had me and took me to my chamber, where they barred me in. A while +later the Augusta came raging like a lioness. She accused me of treachery, and +when I denied it struck me in the face. Look, here are the marks of the jewels +on her hands. Oh, alas! what said I? You cannot see. She had learned that the +lady Heliodore had escaped her, and that I had some hand in her escape. She +vowed that I, your god-mother, was your lover, and as this is a crime against +the Church, promised me that after other sufferings I should be burned alive in +the Hippodrome before all the people. Lastly she said this, ‘Know that +your Olaf of whom you are so fond dies within an hour and thus: He will be +taken to the Hall of the Pit and there given leave to walk till the judges +come. Being blind, you may guess where he will walk. Before this door is +unlocked again I tell you he’ll be but a heap of splintered bones. Aye, +you may start and weep; but save your tears for yourself,’ and she called +me a foul name. ‘I have got you fast at length, you night-prowling cat, +and God Himself cannot give you strength to stretch out your hand and guide +this accursed Olaf from the edge of the Pit of Death.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘God alone knows what He can do, Augusta,’ I answered, for +the words seemed to be put into my lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she cursed and struck me again, and so left me barred in my +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“When she had gone I flung myself upon my knees and prayed to God to save +you, Olaf, since I was helpless; prayed as I had never prayed before. Praying +thus, I think that I fell into a swoon, for my agony was more than I could +bear, and in the swoon I dreamed. I dreamed that I stood in this place, where +till now I have never been before. I saw the judges, the jailers, and a few +others watching from that gallery. I saw you walk along the hall towards the +great open pit. Then I seemed to glide to you and take your hand and guide you +round the pit. And, Olaf, this happened thrice. Afterwards came a tumult while +you were on the very edge of the pit and I held you, not suffering you to stir. +Then in rushed the Northmen and I with them. Yes, standing there with you upon +the edge of the pit, I saw myself and the Northmen rush into the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Martina,” I whispered, “a hand that seemed to be a +woman’s did guide me thrice round the edge of the pit, and did hold me +almost until you and the Northmen rushed in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! God is great!” she gasped. “God is very great, and to +Him I give thanks. But hearken to the end of the tale. I awoke from my swoon +and heard noise without, and above it the Northmen’s cry of victory. They +had scaled the palace walls or broken in the gates—as yet I know not +which—they were on the terrace driving the Greek guards before them. I +ran to the window-place and there below me saw Jodd. I screamed till he heard +me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Save me if you would save Olaf,’ I cried. ‘I am +prisoned here.’ +</p> + +<p> +“They brought one of their scaling ladders and drew me through the +window. I told them all I knew. They caught a palace eunuch and beat him till +he promised to lead us to this hall. He led, but in the labyrinth of passages +fell down senseless, for they had struck him too hard. We knew not which way to +turn, till suddenly we heard your voice and ran towards it. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all the story, Olaf.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER X<br/> +OLAF GIVES JUDGMENT</h2> + +<p> +As Martina finished speaking I heard the sound of tramping guards and of a +woman’s dress upon the pavement. Then a voice, that of Irene, spoke, and +though her words were quiet I caught in them the tremble of smothered rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Be pleased to tell me, Captain Jodd,” she said, “what is +happening in my palace, and why I, the Empress, am haled from my apartment +hither by soldiers under your command?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” answered Jodd, “you are mistaken. Yesterday you were +an empress, to-day you are—well, whatever your son, the Emperor, chooses +to name you. As to what has been and is happening in this palace, I scarcely +know where to begin the tale. First of all your general and chamberlain +Olaf—in case you should not recognise him, I mean that blind man who +stands yonder—was being tricked to death by certain servants of yours who +called themselves judges, and who stated that they were acting by your +orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Confront me with them,” said Irene, “that I may prove to you +that they lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. Ho! you, bring the lady Irene here. Now hold her over that +hole. Nay, struggle not, lady, lest you should slip from their hands. Look down +steadily, and you will see by the light that flows in from the cave beneath, +certain heaps lying on the rocks round which the rising waters seethe. There +are your judges whom you say you wish to meet. If you desire to ask them any +questions, we can satisfy your will. Nay, why should you turn pale at the mere +sight of the place that you thought good enough to be the bed of a faithful +soldier of your own, one high in your service, whom it has pleased you to +blind? Why did it please you to blind him, Lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you that dare to ask me questions?” she replied, gathering +up her courage. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you, Lady. Now that the General Olaf yonder is blinded I +am the officer in command of the Northmen, who, until you tried to murder the +said General Olaf a while ago, were your faithful guard. I am also, as it +chances, the officer in command of this palace, which we took this morning by +assault and by arrangement with most of your Greek soldiers, having learned +from your confidential lady, Martina, of the vile deed you were about to work +on the General Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it was you who betrayed me, Martina,” gasped Irene; “and +I had you in my power. Oh! I had you in my power!” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not betray you, Augusta. I saved my god-son yonder from torture +and butchery, as by my oath I was bound to do,” answered Martina. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with this talk of betrayals,” went on Jodd, “for +who can betray a devil? Now, Lady, with your State quarrels we have nothing to +do. You can settle them presently with your son, that is, if you still live. +But with this matter of Olaf we have much to do, and we will settle that at +once. The first part of the business we all know, so let us get to the next. By +whose order were you blinded, General Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“By that of the Augusta,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“For what reason, General Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“For one that I will not state,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Good. You were blinded by the Augusta for a reason you will not state, +but which is well known to all of us. Now, we have a law in the North which +says that an eye should be given for an eye and a life for a life. Would it not +then be right, comrades, that this woman should be blinded also?” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” screamed Irene, “blinded! I blinded! I, the +Empress!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Lady, are the eyes of one who was an Empress different from +other eyes? Why should you complain of that darkness into which you were so +ready to plunge one better than yourself. Still, Olaf shall judge. Is it your +will, General, that we blind this woman who put out your eyes and afterwards +tried to murder you?” +</p> + +<p> +Now, I felt that all in that place were watching me and hanging on the words +that I should speak, so intently that they never heard others entering it, as I +did. For a while I paused, for why should not Irene suffer a little of that +agony of suspense which she had inflicted upon me and others? +</p> + +<p> +Then I said, “See what I have lost, friends, through no grave fault of my +own. I was in the way of greatness. I was a soldier whom you trusted and liked +well, one of unstained honour and of unstained name. Also I loved a woman, by +whom I was beloved and whom I hoped to make my wife. And now what am I? My +trade is gone, for how can a maimed man lead in war, or even do the meanest +service of the camp? The rest of my days, should any be granted to me, must be +spent in darkness blacker than that of midnight. I must live on charity. When +the little store I have is spent, for I have taken no bribe and heaped up no +riches, how can I earn a living? The woman whom I love has been carried away, +after this Empress tried thrice to murder her. Whether I shall ever find her +again in this world I know not, for she has gone to a far country that is full +of enemies to Christian men. Nor do I know whether she would be willing to take +one who is blind and beggared for a husband, though I think this may be +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shame on her if she does not,” muttered Martina as I paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, friends, that is my case,” I went on; “let the Augusta +deny it if she can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, Lady. Do you deny it?” said Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not deny that this man was blinded by my order in payment of crimes +for which he might well have suffered death,” answered Irene. “But +I do deny that I commanded him to be trapped in yonder pit. If those dead men +said so, then they lied.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if the lady Martina says so, what then?” asked Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she lies also,” answered the Empress sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” replied Jodd. “Yet it is strange that, acting on +this lie of the lady Martina’s, we found the General Olaf upon the very +edge of yonder hole; yes, with not the breadth of a barleycorn between him and +death. Now, General, both parties have been heard and you shall pass sentence. +If you say that yonder woman is to be blinded, this moment she looks her last +upon the light. If you say that she is to die, this moment she bids farewell to +life.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I thought a while. It came into my mind that Irene, who had fallen from +power, might rise once more and bring fresh evil upon Heliodore. Now she was in +my hand, but if I opened that hand and let her free——! +</p> + +<p> +Someone moved towards me, and I heard Irene’s voice whispering in my ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said, “if I sinned against you it was because I +loved you. Would you be avenged upon one who has burned her soul with so much +evil because she loved too well? Oh! if so, you are no longer Olaf. For +Christ’s sake have pity on me, since I am not fit to meet Him. Give me +time to repent. Nay! hear me out! Let not those men drag me away as they +threaten to do. I am fallen now, but who knows, I may grow great again; indeed, +I think I shall. Then, Olaf, may my soul shrivel everlastingly in hell if I try +to harm you or the Egyptian more—Jesus be my witness that I ask no lesser +doom upon my head. Keep the men back, Martina, for what I swear to him and the +Egyptian I swear to you as well. Moreover, Olaf, I have great wealth. You spoke +of poverty; it shall be far from you. Martina knows where my gold is hid, and +she still holds my keys. Let her take it. I say leave me alone, but one word +more. If ever it is in my power I’ll forget everything and advance you +all to great honour. Your brain is not blinded, Olaf; you can still rule. I +swear, I swear, I swear upon the Holy Blood! Ah! now drag me away if you will. +I have spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then perchance, Lady, you will allow Olaf to speak, since we, who have +much to do, must finish this business quickly, before the Emperor comes with +the Armenians,” said Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Jodd and his comrades,” I said, “the Empress Irene +has been pleased to make certain solemn vows to me which perchance some of you +may have overheard. At least, God heard them, and whether she keeps them or no +is a matter between her and the God in Whom we both believe. Therefore I set +these vows aside; they draw me neither one way nor the other. Now, you have +made me judge in my own matter and have promised to abide by my judgment, which +you will do. Hear it, then, and let it be remembered. For long I have been the +Augusta’s officer, and of late her general and chamberlain. As such I +have bound myself by great oaths to protect her from harm in all cases, and +those oaths heretofore I have kept, when I might have broken them and not been +blamed by men. Whatever has chanced, it seems that she is still Empress and I +am still her officer, seeing that my sword has been returned to me, although it +is true she sent it that I might use it on myself. It pleased the Empress to +put out my eyes. Under our soldier’s law the monarch who rules the Empire +has a right to put out the eyes of an officer who has lifted sword against her +forces, or even to kill him. Whether this is done justly or unjustly again is a +matter between that monarch and God above, to Whom answer must be made at last. +Therefore it would seem that I have no right to pronounce any sentence against +the Augusta Irene, and whatever may have been my private wrongs, I pronounce +none. Yet, as I am still your general until another is named, I order you to +free the Augusta Irene and to work no vengeance on her person for aught that +may have befallen me at her hands, were her deeds just or unjust.” +</p> + +<p> +When I had finished speaking, in the silence that followed I heard Irene utter +something that was half a sob and half a gasp of wonderment. Then above the +murmuring of the Northmen, to whom this rede was strange, rose the great voice +of Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“General Olaf,” he said, “while you were talking it came into +my mind that one of those knife points which pierced your eyes had pricked the +brain behind them. But when you had finished talking it came into my mind that +you are a great man who, putting aside your private rights and wrongs and the +glory of revenge which lay to your hand, have taught us soldiers a lesson in +duty which I, at least, never shall forget. General, if, as I trust, we are +together in the future as in the past, I shall ask you to instruct me in this +Christian faith of yours, which can make a man not only forgive but hide his +forgiveness under the mask of duty, for that, as we know well, is what you have +done. General, your order shall be obeyed. Be she Empress or nothing, this +lady’s person is safe from us. More, we will protect her to the best of +our power, as you did in the Battle of the Garden. Yet I tell her to her face +that had it not been for those orders, had you, for example, said that you left +judgment to us, she who has spoilt such a man should have died a death of +shame.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard a sound as of a woman throwing herself upon her knees before me. I +heard Irene’s voice whisper through her tears, +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, Olaf, for the second time in my life you make me feel ashamed. Oh! +if only you could have loved me! Then I should have grown good like you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a stir of feet and another voice spoke, a voice that should have been +clear and youthful, but sounded as though it were thick with wine. It did not +need Martina’s whisper to tell me that it was that of Constantine. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, friends,” he said, and at once there came a rattle of +saluting swords and an answering cry of +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, Augustus!” +</p> + +<p> +“You struck before the time,” went on the thick, boyish voice. +“Yet as things seem to have gone rather well for us, I cannot blame you, +especially as I see that you hold fast her who has usurped my +birthright.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I heard Irene turn with a swift and furious movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Your birthright, boy,” she cried. “What birthright have you +save that which my body gave?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that my father had more to do with this matter of imperial +right than the Grecian girl whom it pleased him to marry for her fair +face,” answered Constantine insolently, adding: “Learn your +station, mother. Learn that you are but the lamp which once held the holy oil, +and that lamps can be shattered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” she answered, “and oil can be spilt for the dogs to +lap, if their gorge does not rise at such rancid stuff. The holy oil forsooth! +Nay, the sour dregs of wine jars, the outscourings of the stews, the filth of +the stables, of such is the holy oil that burns in Constantine, the drunkard +and the liar.” +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that before this torrent of coarse invective Constantine quailed, +who at heart always feared his mother, and I think never more so than when he +appeared to triumph over her. Or perhaps he scorned to answer it. At least, +addressing Jodd, he said, +</p> + +<p> +“Captain, I and my officers, standing yonder unseen, have heard something +of what passed in this place. By what warrant do you and your company take upon +yourselves to pass judgment upon this mother of mine? That is the +Emperor’s right.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the warrant of capture, Augustus,” answered Jodd. “We +Northmen took the palace and opened the gates to you and your Armenians. Also +we took her who ruled in the palace, with whom we had a private score to settle +that has to do with our general who stands yonder, blinded. Well, it is settled +in his own fashion, and now we do not yield up this woman, our prisoner, save +on your royal promise that no harm shall come to her in body. As for the rest, +it is your business. Make a cook-maid of her if you will, only then I think her +tongue would clear the kitchen. But swear to keep her sound in life and limb +till hell calls her, since otherwise we must add her to our company, which will +make no man merrier.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Constantine, “in a week she would corrupt you +every one and breed a war. Well,” he added with a boisterous laugh, +“I’m master now at last, and I’ll swear by any saint that you +may name, or all of them, no harm shall come to this Empress whose rule is +done, and who, being without friends, need not be feared. Still, lest she +should spawn more mischief or murder, she must be kept close till we and our +councillors decide where she shall dwell in future. Ho! guards, take my royal +father’s widow to the dower-palace, and there watch her well. If she +escapes, you shall die beneath the rods. Away with the snake before it begins +to hiss again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll hiss no more,” said Irene, as the soldiers formed up +round her, “yet, perchance, Constantine, you may live to find that the +snake still has strength to strike and poison in its fangs, you and others. Do +you come with me, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Lady, since here stands one whom God and you together have given me +to guard. For his sake I would keep my life in me,” and she touched me on +the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“That whelp who is called my son spoke truly when he said that the fallen +have no friends,” exclaimed Irene. “Well, you should thank me, +Martina, who made Olaf blind, since, being without eyes, he cannot see how ugly +is your face. In his darkness he may perchance mistake you for the beauteous +Egyptian, Heliodore, as I know you who love him madly would have him do.” +</p> + +<p> +With this vile taunt she went. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’m crazed,” said the Emperor, as the doors swung to +behind her. “I should have struck that snake while the stick is in my +hand. I tell you I fear her fangs. Why, if she could, she’d make me as +that poor man is, blind, or even butcher me. Well, she’s my mother, and +I’ve sworn, so there’s an end. Now, you Olaf, you are that same +captain, are you not, who dashed the poisoned fig from my lips that this tender +mother of mine would have let me eat when I was in liquor; yes, and would have +swallowed it yourself to save me from my folly?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am that man, Augustus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, you are that man, and one of whom all the city has been talking. +They say, so poor is your taste, that you turned your back upon the favours of +an Empress because of some young girl you dared to love. They say also that she +paid you back with a dagger in the eyes, she who was ready to set you in my +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rumour has many tongues, Augustus,” I answered. “At least I +fell from the Empress’s favour, and she rewarded me as she held that I +deserved.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it seems. Christ! what a dreadful pit is that. Is this another of her +gifts? Nay, answer not; I heard the tale. Well, Olaf, you saved my life and +your Northmen have set me on the throne, since without them we could scarcely +have won the palace. Now, what payment would you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave to go hence, Augustus,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“A small boon that you might have taken without asking, if you can find a +dog to lead you, like other blind wretches. And you, Captain Jodd, and your +men, what do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such donation as it may please the Augustus to bestow, and after that +permission to follow wherever our General Olaf goes, since he is our care. Here +we have made so many enemies that we cannot sleep at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Empress of the World falls from her throne,” mused +Constantine, “and not even a waiting-maid attends her to her prison. But +a blinded captain finds a regiment to escort him hence in love and honour, as +though he were a new-crowned king. Truly Fortune is a jester. If ever Fate +should rob me of my eyes, I wonder, when I had nothing more to give them, if +three hundred faithful swords would follow me to ruin and to exile?” +</p> + +<p> +Thus he thought aloud. Afterwards he, Jodd and some others, Martina among them, +went aside, leaving me seated on a bench. Presently they returned, and +Constantine said, +</p> + +<p> +“General Olaf, I and your companions have taken counsel. Listen. But +to-day messengers have come from Lesbos, whom we met outside the gates. It +seems that the governor there is dead, and that the accursed Moslems threaten +to storm the isle as soon as summer comes and add it to their empire. Our +Christian subjects there pray that a new governor may be appointed, one who +knows war, and that with him may be sent troops sufficient to repel the +prophet-worshippers, who, not having many ships, cannot attack in great force. +Now, Captain Jodd thinks this task will be to the liking of the Northmen, and +though you are blind, I think that you would serve me well as governor of +Lesbos. Is it your pleasure to accept this office?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, with thankfulness, Augustus,” I answered. “Only, after +the Moslems are beaten back, if it pleases God that it should so befall, I ask +leave of absence for a while, since there is one for whom I must search.” +</p> + +<p> +“I grant it, who name Captain Jodd your deputy. Stay, there’s one +more thing. In Lesbos my mother has large vineyards and estates. As part +payment of her debt these shall be conveyed to you. Nay, no thanks; it is I who +owe them. Whatever his faults, Constantine is not ungrateful. Moreover, enough +time has been spent upon this matter. What say you, Officer? That the Armenians +are marshalled and that you have Stauracius safe? Good! I come to lead them. +Then to the Hippodrome to be proclaimed.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"></a> +BOOK III<br/> +EGYPT</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER I<br/> +TIDINGS FROM EGYPT</h2> + +<p> +That curtain of oblivion without rent or seam sinks again upon the visions of +this past of mine. It falls, as it were, on the last of the scenes in the +dreadful chamber of the pit, to rise once more far from Byzantium. +</p> + +<p> +I am blind and can see nothing, for the power which enables me to disinter what +lies buried beneath the weight and wreck of so many ages tells me no more than +those things that once my senses knew. What I did not hear then I do not hear +now; what I did not see then I do not see now. Thus it comes about that of +Lesbos itself, of the shape of its mountains or the colour of its seas I can +tell nothing more than I was told, because my sight never dwelt on them in any +life that I can remember. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was evening. The heat of the sun had passed and the night breeze blew +through the wide, cool chamber in which I sat with Martina, whom the soldiers, +in their rude fashion, called “Olaf’s Brown Dog.” For brown +was her colouring, and she led me from place to place as dogs are trained to +lead blind men. Yet against her the roughest of them never said an evil word; +not from fear, but because they knew that none could be said. +</p> + +<p> +Martina was talking, she who always loved to talk, if not of one thing, then of +another. +</p> + +<p> +“God-son,” she said, “although you are a great grumbler, I +tell you that in my judgment you were born under a lucky star, or saint, call +it which you will. For instance, when you were walking up and down that Hall of +the Pit in the palace at Constantinople, which I always dream of now if I sup +too late——” +</p> + +<p> +“And your spirit, or double, or whatever you call it, was kindly leading +me round the edge of the death-trap,” I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“——and my spirit, or double, making itself useful for once, +was doing what you say, well, who would have thought that before so very long +you would be the governor, much beloved, of the rich and prosperous island of +Lesbos; still the commander, much beloved, of troops, many of them your own +countrymen, and, although you are blind, the Imperial general who has dealt the +Moslems one of the worst defeats they have suffered for a long while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jodd and the others did that,” I answered. “I only sat here +and made the plans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jodd!” she exclaimed with contempt. “Jodd has no more head +for plans than a doorpost! Although it is true,” she added with a +softening of the voice, “that he is a good man to lean on at a pinch, and +a very terrible fighter; also one who can keep such brain as God gave him cool +in the hour of terror, as Irene knows well enough. Yet it was you, Olaf, not +even I, but you, who remembered that the Northmen are seafolk born, and turned +all those trading vessels into war-galleys and hid them in the little bays with +a few of your people in command of each. It was you who suffered the Moslem +fleet to sail unmolested into the Mitylene harbours, pretending and giving +notice that the only defence would be by land. Then, after they were at anchor +and beginning to disembark, it was you who fell on them at the dawn and sank +and slew till none remained save those of their army who were taken prisoners +or spared for ransom. Yes, and you commanded our ships in person; and at night +who is a better captain than a blind man? Oh! you did well, very well; and you +are rich with Irene’s lands, and sit here in comfort and in honour, with +the best of health save for your blindness, and I repeat that you were born +under a lucky star—or saint.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not altogether so, Martina,” I answered with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she replied, “man can never be content. As usual, you +are thinking of that Egyptian, I mean of the lady Heliodore, of whom, of +course, it is quite right that you should think. Well, it is true that we have +heard nothing of her. Still, that does not mean that we may not hear. Perhaps +Jodd has learned something from those prisoners. Hark! he comes.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke I heard the guards salute without and Jodd’s heavy step at +the door of the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, General,” he said presently. “I bring you good +news. The messengers to the Sultan Harun have returned with the ransom. Also +this Caliph sends a writing signed by himself and his ministers, in which he +swears by God and His Prophet that in consideration of our giving up our +prisoners, among whom, it seems, are some great men, neither he nor his +successors will attempt any new attack upon Lesbos for thirty years. The +interpreter will read it to you to-morrow, and you can send your answering +letters with the prisoners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seeing that these heathen are so many and we are so few, we could +scarcely look for better terms,” I said, “as I hope they will think +at Constantinople. At least the prisoners shall sail when all is in order. Now +for another matter. Have you inquired as to the Bishop Barnabas and the +Egyptian Prince Magas and his daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, General, this very day. I found that among the prisoners were three +of the commoner sort who have served in Egypt and left that land not three +months ago. Of these men two have never heard of the bishop or the others. The +third, however, who was wounded in the fight, had some tidings.” +</p> + +<p> +“What tidings, Jodd?” +</p> + +<p> +“None that are good, General. The bishop, he says, was killed by Moslems +a while ago, or so he had been told.” +</p> + +<p> +“God rest him. But the others, Jodd, what of the others?” +</p> + +<p> +“This. It seems that the Copt, as he called him, Magas, returned from a +long journey, as we know he did, and raised an insurrection somewhere in the +south of Egypt, far up the Nile. An expedition was sent against him, under one +Musa, the Governor of Egypt, and there was much fighting, in which this +prisoner took part. The end of it was that the Copts who fought with Magas were +conquered with slaughter, Magas himself was slain, for he would not fly, and +his daughter, the lady Heliodore, was taken prisoner with some other Coptic +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” I gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, General, she was brought before the Emir Musa, who, noting her +beauty, proposed to make her his slave. At her prayer, however, being, as the +prisoner said, a merciful man, he gave her a week to mourn her father before +she entered his harem. Still, the worst,” he went on hurriedly, +“did not happen. Before that week was done, as the Moslem force was +marching down the Nile, she stabbed the eunuch who was in charge of her and +escaped.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank God,” I said. “But, Jodd, how is the man sure that +she was Heliodore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thus: All knew her to be the daughter of Magas, one whom the Egyptians +held in honour. Moreover, among the Moslem soldiers she was named ‘the +Lady of the Shells,’ because of a certain necklace she wore, which you +will remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“What more?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Only that the Emir Musa was very angry at her loss and because of it +caused certain soldiers to be beaten on the feet. Moreover, he halted his army +and offered a reward for her. For two days they hunted, even searching some +tombs where it was thought she might have hidden, but there found nothing but +the dead. Then the Emir returned down the Nile, and that is the end of the +story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send this prisoner to me at once, Jodd, with an interpreter. I would +question him myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear he is not fit to come, General.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will go to him. Lead me, Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“If so, you must go far, General, for he died an hour ago, and his +companions are making him ready for burial.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jodd,” I said angrily, “those men have been in our hands for +weeks. How comes it that you did not discover these things before? You had my +orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, General, until they knew that they were to go free none of +these prisoners would tell us anything. However closely they were questioned, +they said that it was against their oath, and that first they would die. A long +while ago I asked this very man of Egypt, and he vowed that he had never been +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be comforted, Olaf,” broke in Martina, “for what more could +he have told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, perchance,” I answered; “yet I should have gained +many days of time. Know that I go to Egypt to search for Heliodore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be comforted again,” said Martina. “This you could not have +done until the peace was signed; it would have been against your oath and +duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” I answered heavily. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Olaf,” said Martina to me that night after Jodd had left us, +“you say that you will go to Egypt. How will you go? Will the blind +Christian general of the Empire, who has just dealt so great a defeat to the +mighty Caliph of the East, be welcome in Egypt? Above all, will he be welcomed +by the Emir Musa, who rules there, when it is known that he comes to seek a +woman who has escaped from that Emir’s harem? Why, within an hour +he’d offer you the choice between death and the Koran. Olaf, this thing +is madness.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be, Martina. Still, I go to seek Heliodore.” +</p> + +<p> +“If Heliodore still lives you will not help her by dying, and if she is +dead time will be little to her and she can wait for you a while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I go, Martina.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, being blind, go to Egypt to seek one whom those who rule there have +searched for in vain. So be it. But how will you go? It cannot be as an open +enemy, since then you would need a fleet and ten thousand swords to back you, +which you have not. To take a few brave men, unless they were Moslems, which is +impossible, would be but to give them to death. How do you go, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, Martina. Your brain is more nimble than mine; think, +think, and tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard Martina rise and walk up and down the room for a long time. At length +she returned and sat herself by me again. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she said, “you always had a taste for music. You have +told me that as a boy in your northern home you used to play upon the harp and +sing songs to it of your own making, and now, since you have been blind, you +have practised at this art till you are its master. Also, my voice is good; +indeed, it is my only gift. It was my voice that first brought me to +Irene’s notice, when I was but the daughter of a poor Greek gentleman who +had been her father’s friend and therefore was given a small place about +the Court. Of late we have sung many songs together, have we not, certain of +them in that northern tongue, of which you have taught me something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Martina; but what of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are dull, Olaf. I have heard that these Easterns love music, +especially if it be of a sort they do not know. Why, therefore, should not a +blind man and his daughter—no, his orphaned niece—earn an honest +living as travelling musicians in Egypt? These Prophet worshippers, I am told, +think it a great sin to harm one who is maimed—a poor northern trader in +amber who has been robbed by Christian thieves. Rendered sightless also that he +might not be able to swear to them before the judges, and now, with his +sister’s child, winning his bread as best he may. Like you, Olaf, I have +skill in languages, and even know enough of Arabic to beg in it, for my mother, +who was a Syrian, taught it to me as a child, and since we have been here I +have practised. What say you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that we might travel as safely thus as in any other way. Yet, +Martina, how can I ask you to tie such a burden on your back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no need to ask, Olaf, since Fate bound it there when it made me +your—god-mother. Where you go I needs must go also, until you are +married,” she added with a laugh. “Afterwards, perhaps, you will +need me no more. Well, there’s a plan, for what it is worth, and now +we’ll sleep on it, hoping to find a better. Pray to St. Michael to-night, +Olaf.” +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, St. Michael gave me no light, so the end of it was that I +determined to play this part of a blind harper. In those days there was a trade +between Lesbos and Egypt in cedar wood, wool, wine for the Copts, for the +Moslems drank none, and other goods. Peace having been declared between the +island and the Caliph, a small vessel was laden with such merchandise at my +cost, and a Greek of Lesbos, Menas by name, put in command of it as the owner, +with a crew of sailors whom I could trust to the death. +</p> + +<p> +To these men, who were Christians, I told my business, swearing them to secrecy +by the most holy of all oaths. But, alas! as I shall show, although I could +trust these sailors when they were masters of themselves, I could not trust +them, or, rather, one of them, when wine was his master. In our northern land +we had a saying that “Ale is another man,” and now its truth was to +be proved to me, not for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +When all was ready I made known my plans to Jodd alone, in whose hands I left a +writing to say what must be done if I returned no more. To the other officers +and the soldiers I said only that I proposed to make a journey in this trading +ship disguised as a merchant, both for my health’s sake and to discover +for myself the state of the surrounding countries, and especially of the +Christians in Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +When he had heard all, Jodd, although he was a hopeful-minded man, grew sad +over this journey, which I could see he thought would be my last. +</p> + +<p> +“I expected no less,” he said; “and yet, General, I trusted +that your saint might keep your feet on some safer path. Doubtless this lady +Heliodore is dead, or fled, or wed; at least, you will never find her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, I must search for her, Jodd.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a blind man. How can you search?” +</p> + +<p> +Then an idea came to him, and he added, +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, General. I and the rest of us swore to protect the lady +Heliodore and to be as her father or her brothers. Do you bide here. I will go +to search for her, either with a vessel full of armed men, or alone, +disguised.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I laughed outright and asked, +</p> + +<p> +“What disguise is there that would hide the giant Jodd, whose fame the +Moslem spies have spread throughout the East? Why, on the darkest night your +voice would betray you to all within a hundred paces. And what use would one +shipload of armed men be against the forces of the Emir of Egypt? No, no, Jodd, +whatever the danger I must go and I alone. If I am killed, or do not return +within eight months, I have named you to be Governor of Lesbos, as already you +have been named my deputy by Constantine, which appointment will probably be +confirmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not want to be Governor of Lesbos,” said Jodd. +“Moreover, Olaf,” he added slowly, “a blind beggar must have +his dog to lead him, his brown dog. You cannot go alone, Olaf. Those dangers of +which you speak must be shared by another.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, and it troubles me much. Indeed, it is in my mind to seek +some other guide, for I think this one would be safest here in your charge. You +must reason with her, Jodd. One can ask too much, even of a god-mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of a god-mother! Why not say of a grandmother? By Thor! Olaf, you are +blind indeed. Still, I’ll try. Hush! here she comes to say that our +supper is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +At our meal several others were present, besides the serving folk, and the talk +was general. After it was done I had an interview with some officers. These +left, and I sat myself down upon a cushioned couch, and, being tired, there +fell asleep, till I was awakened, or, rather, half awakened by voices talking +in the garden without. They were those of Jodd and Martina, and Martina was +saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Cease your words. I and no one else will go on this Egyptian quest with +Olaf. If we die, as I dare say we shall, what does it matter? At least he shall +not die alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if the quest should fail, Martina? I mean if he should not find the +lady Heliodore and you should happen both to return safe, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then—nothing, except that as it has been, so it will be. I +shall continue to play my part, as is my duty and my wish. Do you not remember +that I am Olaf’s god-mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember. Still, I have heard somewhere that the Christian Church +never ties a knot which it cannot unloose—for a proper fee, and for my +part I do not know why a man should not marry one of different blood because +she has been named his god-mother before a stone vessel by a man in a broidered +robe. You say I do not understand such matters. Perhaps, so let them be. But, +Martina, let us suppose that this strange search were to succeed, and Olaf has +a way of succeeding where others would fail. For instance, who else could have +escaped alive out of the hand of Irene and become governor of Lesbos, and, +being blind, yet have planned a great victory? Well, supposing that by the help +of gods or men—or women—he should find this beautiful Heliodore, +unwed and still willing, and that they should marry. What then, Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Captain Jodd,” she answered slowly, “if you are yet of +the same mind we may talk again. Only remember that I ask no promises and make +none.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you go to Egypt with Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, certainly, unless I should die first, and perhaps even then. You do +not understand? Oh! of course you do not understand, nor can I stop to explain +to you. Captain Jodd, I am going to Egypt with a certain blind beggar, whose +name I forget at the moment, but who is my uncle, where no doubt I shall see +many strange things. If ever I come back I will tell you about them, and, +meanwhile, good night.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER II<br/> +THE STATUES BY THE NILE</h2> + +<p> +The first thing that I remember of this journey to Egypt is that I was sitting +in the warm morning sunshine on the deck of our little trading vessel, that +went by the name of the heathen goddess, Diana. We were in the port of +Alexandria. Martina, who now went by the name of Hilda, stood by my side +describing to me the great city that lay before us. +</p> + +<p> +She told me of the famous Pharos still rising from its rock, although in it the +warning light no longer burned, for since the Moslems took Egypt they had let +it die, as some said because they feared lest it should guide a Christian fleet +to attack them. She described also the splendid palaces that the Greeks had +built, many of them now empty or burned out, the Christian churches, the +mosques, the broad streets and the grass-grown quays. +</p> + +<p> +As we were thus engaged, she talking and I listening and asking questions, she +said, +</p> + +<p> +“The boat is coming with the Saracen officers of the port, who must +inspect and pass the ship before she is allowed to discharge her cargo. Now, +Olaf, remember that henceforth you are called Hodur.” (I had taken this +name after that of the blind god of the northern peoples.) “Play your +part well, and, above all, be humble. If you are reviled, or even struck, show +no anger, and be sure to keep that red sword of yours close hidden beneath your +robe. If you do these things we shall be safe, for I tell you that we are well +disguised.” +</p> + +<p> +The boat came alongside and I heard men climbing the ship’s ladder. Then +someone kicked me. It was our captain, Menas, who also had his part to play. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of the road, you blind beggar,” he said. “The noble +officers of the Caliph board our ship, and you block their path.” +</p> + +<p> +“Touch not one whom God has afflicted,” said a grave voice, +speaking in bad Greek. “It is easy for us to walk round the man. But who +is he, captain, and why does he come to Egypt? By their looks he and the woman +with him might well have seen happier days.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, lord,” answered the captain, “who, after they +paid their passage money, took no more note of them. Still they play and sing +well, and served to keep the sailors in good humour when we were +becalmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” I broke in, “I am a Northman named Hodur, and this +woman is my niece. I was a trader in amber, but thieves robbed me and my +companions of all we had as we journeyed to Byzantium. Me, who was the leader +of our band, they held to ransom, blinding me lest I should be able to swear to +them again, but the others they killed. This is the only child of my sister, +who married a Greek, and now we get our living by our skill in music.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly you Christians love each other well,” said the officer. +“Accept the Koran and you will not be treated thus. But why do you come +to Egypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, we heard that it is a rich land where the people love music, and +have come hoping to earn some money here that we may put by to live on. Send us +not away, sir; we have a little offering to make. Niece Hilda, where is the +gold piece I gave you? Offer it to this lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay,” said the officer. “Shall I take bread out of the +mouth of the poor? Clerk,” he added in Arabic to a man who was with him, +“make out a writing giving leave to these two to land and to ply their +business anywhere in Egypt without question or hindrance, and bring it to me to +seal. Farewell, musicians. I fear you will find money scarce in Egypt, for the +land has been stricken with a famine. Yet go and prosper in the name of God, +and may He turn your hearts to the true faith.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that through the good mind of this Moslem, whose name, as I +learned when we met again, was Yusuf, our feet were lifted over many +stumbling-blocks. Thus it seems that by virtue of his office he had power to +prevent the entry into the land of such folk as we seemed to be, which power, +if they were Christians, was almost always put in force. Yet because he had +seen the captain appear to illtreat me, or because, being a soldier himself, he +guessed that I was of the same trade, whatever tale it might please me to tell, +this rule was not enforced. Moreover, the writing which he gave me enabled me +to go where we wished in Egypt without let or hindrance. Whenever we were +stopped or threatened, which happened to us several times, it was enough if we +presented it to the nearest person in authority who could read, after which we +were allowed to pass upon our way unhindered. +</p> + +<p> +Before we left the ship I had a last conversation with the captain, Menas, +telling him that he was to lie in the harbour, always pretending that he waited +for some cargo not yet forthcoming, such as unharvested corn, or whatever was +convenient, until we appeared again. If after a certain while we did not +appear, then he was to make a trading journey to neighbouring ports and return +to Alexandria. These artifices he must continue to practise until orders to the +contrary reached him under my own hand, or until he had sure evidence that we +were dead. All this the man promised that he would do. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Martina, who was with me, “you promise, Captain, +and we believe you, but the question is, can you answer for the others? For +instance, for the sailor Cosmas there, who, I see, is already drunken and +talking loudly about many things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Henceforth, lady, Cosmas shall drink water only. When not in his cups he +is an honest fellow, and I do answer for him.” +</p> + +<p> +Yet, alas! as the end showed, Cosmas was not to be answered for by anyone. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +We went ashore and took up our abode in a certain house, where we were safe. +Whether the Christian owners of that house did or did not know who we were, I +am not certain. At any rate, through them we were introduced at night into the +palace of Politian, the Melchite Patriarch of Alexandria. He was a stern-faced, +black-bearded man of honest heart but narrow views, of whom the Bishop Barnabas +had often spoken to me as his closest friend. To this Politian I told all under +the seal of our Faith, asking his aid in my quest. When I had finished my tale +he thought a while. Then he said, +</p> + +<p> +“You are a bold man, General Olaf; so bold that I think God must be +leading you to His own ends. Now, you have heard aright. Barnabas, my beloved +brother and your father in Christ, has been taken hence. He was murdered by +some fanatic Moslems soon after his return from Byzantium. Also it is true that +the Prince Magas was killed in war by the Emir Musa, and that the lady +Heliodore escaped out of his clutches. What became of her afterwards no man +knows, but for my part I believe that she is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I believe that she is alive,” I answered, “and therefore +I go to seek her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seek and ye shall find,” mused the Patriarch; “at least, I +hope so, though my advice to you is to bide here and send others to +seek.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will not do,” I answered again. +</p> + +<p> +“Then go, and God be with you. I’ll warn certain of the faithful of +your coming, so that you may not lack a friend at need. When you return, if you +should ever return, come to me, for I have more influence with these Moslems +than most, and may be able to serve you. I can say no more, and it is not safe +that you should tarry here too long. Stay, I forget. There are two things you +should know. The first is that the Emir Musa, he who seized the lady Heliodore, +is about to be deposed. I have the news from the Caliph Harun himself, for with +him I am on friendly terms because of a service I did him through my skill in +medicine. The second is that Irene has beguiled Constantine, or bewitched him, +I know not which. At least, by his own proclamation once more she rules the +Empire jointly with himself, and that I think will be his death warrant, and +perhaps yours also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” I said. “Now +if I live I shall learn whether any oaths are sacred to Irene, as will +Constantine.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we parted. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Leaving Alexandria, we wandered first to the town of Misra, which stood near to +the mighty pyramids, beneath whose shadow we slept one night in an empty tomb. +Thence by slow marches we made our way up the banks of the Nile, earning our +daily bread by the exercise of our art. Once or twice we were stopped as spies, +but always released again when I produced the writing that the officer Yusuf +had given me upon the ship. For the rest, none molested us in a land where +wandering beggars were so common. Of money it is true we earned little, but as +we had gold in plenty sewn into our garments this did not matter. Food was all +we needed, and that, as I have said, was never lacking. +</p> + +<p> +So we went on our strange journey, day by day learning more of the tongues +spoken in Egypt, and especially of Arabic, which the Moslems used. Whither did +we journey? We know not for certain. What I sought to find were those two huge +statues of which I had dreamed at Aar on the night of the robbing of the +Wanderer’s tomb. We heard that there were such figures of stone, which +were said to sing at daybreak, and that they sat upon a plain on the western +bank of the Nile, near to the ruins of the great city of Thebes, now but a +village, called by the Arabs El-Uksor, or “the Palaces.” So far as +we could discover, it was in the neighbourhood of this city that Heliodore had +escaped from Musa, and there, if anywhere, I hoped to gain tidings of her fate. +Also something within my heart drew me to those images of forgotten gods or +men. +</p> + +<p> +At length, two months or more after we left Alexandria, from the deck of the +boat in which we had hired a passage for the last hundred miles of our journey, +Martina saw to the east the ruins of Thebes. To the west she saw other ruins, +and seated in front of them <i>two mighty figures of stone</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the place,” she said, and my heart leapt at her words. +“Now let us land and follow our fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +So when the boat was tied up at sunset, to the west bank of the river, as it +happened, we bade farewell to the owner and went ashore. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither now?” asked Martina. +</p> + +<p> +“To the figures of stone,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +So she led me through fields in which the corn was growing, to the edge of the +desert, meeting no man all the way. Then for a mile or more we tramped through +sand, till at length, late at night, Martina halted. +</p> + +<p> +“We stand beneath the statues,” she said, “and they are +awesome to look on; mighty, seated kings, higher than a tall tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“What lies behind them?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The ruins of a great temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lead me to that temple.” +</p> + +<p> +So we passed through a gateway into a court, and there we halted. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me what you see,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“We stand in what has been a hall of many columns,” she answered, +“but the most of them are broken. At our feet is a pool in which there is +a little water. Before us lies the plain on which the statues sit, stretching +some miles to the Nile, that is fringed with palms. Across the broad Nile are +the ruins of old Thebes. Behind us are more ruins and a line of rugged hills of +stone, and in them, a little to the north, the mouth of a valley. The scene is +very beautiful beneath the moon, but very sad and desolate.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the place that I saw in my dream many years ago at Aar,” I +said. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be,” she answered, “but if so it must have changed, +since, save for a jackal creeping among the columns and a dog that barks in +some distant village, I neither see nor hear a living thing. What now, +Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now we will eat and sleep,” I said. “Perhaps light will come +to us in our sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +So we ate of the food we had brought with us, and afterwards lay down to rest +in a little chamber, painted round with gods, that Martina found in the ruins +of the temple. +</p> + +<p> +During that night no dreams came to me, nor did anything happen to disturb us, +even in this old temple, of which the very paving-stones were worn through by +the feet of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +Before the dawn Martina led me back to the colossal statues, and we waited +there, hoping that we should hear them sing, as tradition said they did when +the sun rose. Yet the sun came up as it had done from the beginning of the +world, and struck upon those giant effigies as it had done for some two +thousand years, or so I was told, and they remained quite silent. I do not +think that ever I grieved more over my blindness than on this day, when I must +depend upon Martina to tell me of the glory of that sunrise over the Egyptian +desert and those mighty ruins reared by the hands of forgotten men. +</p> + +<p> +Well, the sun rose, and, since the statues would not speak, I took my harp and +played upon it, and Martina sang a wild Eastern song to my playing. It seemed +that our music was heard. At any rate, a few folk going out to labour came to +see by whom it was caused, and finding only two wandering musicians, presently +went away again. Still, one remained, a woman, Coptic by her dress, with whom I +heard Martina talk. She asked who we were and why we had come to such a place, +whereon Martina repeated to her the story which we had told a hundred times. +The woman answered that we should earn little money in those parts, as the +famine had been sore there owing to the low Nile of the previous season. Until +the crops were ripe again, which in the case of most of them would not be for +some weeks, even food, she added, must be scarce, though few were left to eat +it, since the Moslems had killed out most of those who dwelt in that district +of Upper Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +Martina replied that she knew this was so, and therefore we had proposed either +to travel on to Nubia or to return north. Still, as I, her blind uncle, was not +well, we had landed from a boat hoping that we might find some place where we +could rest for a week or two until I grew stronger. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” she continued meaningly, “being poor Christian folk we +know not where to look for such a place, since Cross worshippers are not +welcome among those who follow the Prophet.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, when the woman heard that we were Christians her voice changed. “I +also am a Christian,” she said; “but give me the sign.” +</p> + +<p> +So we made the sign of the Cross on our breasts, which a Moslem will die rather +than do. +</p> + +<p> +“My husband and I,” went on the woman, “live yonder at the +village of Kurna, which is situated near to the mouth of the valley that is +called Biban-el-Meluk, or Gate of the Kings, for there the monarchs of old +days, who were the forefathers or rulers of us Copts, lie buried. It is but a +very small village, for the Moslems have killed most of us in a war that was +raised a while ago between them and our hereditary prince, Magas. Yet my +husband and I have a good house there, and, being poor, shall be glad to give +you food and shelter if you can pay us something.” +</p> + +<p> +The end of it was that after some chaffering, for we dared not show that we had +much money, a bargain was struck between us and this good woman, who was named +Palka. Having paid her a week’s charges in advance, she led us to the +village of Kurna, which was nearly an hour’s walk away, and here made us +known to her husband, a middle-aged man named Marcus, who took little note of +anything save his farming. +</p> + +<p> +This he carried on upon a patch of fertile ground that was irrigated by a +spring which flowed from the mountains; also he had other lands near to the +Nile, where he grew corn and fodder for his beasts. In his house, that once had +been part of some great stone building of the ancients, and still remained far +larger than he could use, for this pair had no children, we were given two good +rooms. Here we dwelt in comfort, since, notwithstanding the scarcity of the +times, Marcus was richer than he seemed and lived well. As for the village of +Kurna, its people all told did not amount to more than thirty souls, Christians +every one of them, who were visited from time to time by a Coptic priest from +some distant monastery in the mountains. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees we grew friendly with Palka, a pleasant, bustling woman of good +birth, who loved to hear of the outside world. Moreover, she was very shrewd, +and soon began to suspect that we were more than mere wandering players. +</p> + +<p> +Pretending to be weak and ill, I did not go out much, but followed her about +the house while she was working, talking to her on many matters. +</p> + +<p> +Thus I led up to the subject of Prince Magas and his rebellion, and learned +that he had been killed at a place about fifty miles south from Kurna. Then I +asked if it were true that his daughter had been killed with him. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know of the lady Heliodore?” she asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Only that my niece, who for a while was a servant in the palace at +Byzantium before she was driven away with others after the Empress fell, saw +her there. Indeed, it was her business to wait upon her and her father the +Prince. Therefore, she is interested in her fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that you are more interested than your niece, who has never +spoken a word to me concerning her,” answered Palka. “Well, since +you are a man, I should not have thought this strange, had you not been blind, +for they say she was the most beautiful woman in Egypt. As for her fate, you +must ask God, since none know it. When the army of Musa was encamped yonder by +the Nile my husband, Marcus, who had taken two donkey-loads of forage for sale +to the camp and was returning by moonlight, saw her run past him, a red knife +in her hand, her face set towards the Gateway of the Kings. After that he saw +her no more, nor did anyone else, although they hunted long enough, even in the +tombs, which the Moslems, like our people, fear to visit. Doubtless she fell or +threw herself into some hole in the rocks; or perhaps the wild beasts ate her. +Better so than that a child of the old Pharaohs should become the woman of an +infidel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “better so. But why do folk fear to visit +those tombs of which you speak, Palka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Because they are haunted, that is all, and even the bravest dread +the sight of a ghost. How could they be otherwise than haunted, seeing that +yonder valley is sown with the mighty dead like a field with corn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet the dead sleep quietly enough, Palka.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, the common dead, Hodur; but not these kings and queens and princes, +who, being gods of a kind, cannot die. It is said that they hold their revels +yonder at night with songs and wild laughter, and that those who look upon them +come to an evil end within a year. Whether this be so I cannot say, since for +many years none have dared to visit that place at night. Yet that they eat I +know well enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know, Palka?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a good reason. With the others in this village I supply the +offerings of their food. The story runs that once the great building, of which +this house is a part, was a college of heathen priests whose duty it was to +make offerings to the dead in the royal tombs. When the Christians came, those +priests were driven away, but we of Kurna who live in their house still make +the offerings. If we did not, misfortune would overtake us, as indeed has +always happened if they were forgotten or neglected. It is the rent that we pay +to the ghosts of the kings. Twice a week we pay it, setting food and milk and +water upon a certain stone near to the mouth of the valley.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what happens, Palka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, except that the offering is taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“By beggar folk, or perchance by wild creatures!” +</p> + +<p> +“Would beggar folk dare to enter that place of death?” she answered +with contempt. “Or would wild beasts take the food and pile the dishes +neatly together and replace the flat stones on the mouths of the jars of milk +and water, as a housewife might? Oh! do not laugh. Of late this has always been +done, as I who often fetch the vessels know well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever seen these ghosts, Palka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, once I saw one of them. It was about two months ago that I passed +the mouth of the valley after moonrise, for I had been kept out late searching +for a kid which was lost. Thinking that it might be in the valley, I peered up +it. As I was looking, from round a great rock glided a ghost. She stood still, +with the moonlight shining on her, and gazed towards the Nile. I, too, stood +still in the shadow, thirty or forty paces away. Then she threw up her arms as +though in despair, turned and vanished.” +</p> + +<p> +“She!” I said, then checked myself and asked indifferently: +“Well, what was the fashion of this ghost?” +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I could see that of a young and beautiful woman, wearing such +clothes as we find upon the ancient dead, only wrapped more loosely about +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had she aught upon her head, Palka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a band of gold or a crown set upon her hair, and about her neck +what seemed to be a necklace of green and gold, for the moonlight flashed upon +it. It was much such a necklace as you wear beneath your robe, Hodur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pray how do you know what I wear, Palka?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By means of what you lack, poor man, the eyes in my head. One night when +you were asleep I had need to pass through your chamber to reach another +beyond. You had thrown off your outer garment because of the heat, and I saw +the necklace. Also I saw a great red sword lying by your side and noted on your +bare breast sundry scars, such as hunters and soldiers come by. All of these +things, Hodur, I thought strange, seeing that I know you to be nothing but a +poor blind beggar who gains his bread by his skill upon the harp.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are beggars who were not always beggars, Palka,” I said +slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Hodur, and there are great men and rich who sometimes appear +to be beggars, and—many other things. Still, have no fear that we shall +steal your necklace or talk about the red sword or the gold with which your +niece Hilda weights her garments. Poor girl, she has all the ways of a fine +lady, one who has known Courts, as I think you said was the case. It must be +sad for her to have fallen so low. Still, have no fear, Hodur,” and she +took my hand and pressed it in a certain secret fashion which was practised +among the persecuted Christians in the East when they would reveal themselves +to each other. Then she went away laughing. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, I sought Martina, who had been sleeping through the heat, and told +her everything. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said when I had finished, “you should give thanks +to God, Olaf, since without doubt this ghost is the lady Heliodore. So should +Jodd,” I heard her add beneath her breath, for in my blindness my ears +had grown very quick. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> +CHAPTER III<br/> +THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD KINGS</h2> + +<p> +Martina and I had made a plan. Palka, after much coaxing, took us with her one +evening when she went to place the accustomed offerings in the Valley of the +Dead. Indeed, at first she refused outright to allow us to accompany her, +because, she said, only those who were born in the village of Kurna had made +such offerings since the days when the Pharaohs ruled, and that if strangers +shared in this duty it might bring misfortune. We answered, however, that if so +the misfortune would fall on us, the intruders. Also we pointed out that the +jars of water and milk were heavy, and, as it happened, there was no one from +the hamlet to help to carry them this night. Having weighed these facts, Palka +changed her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “it is true that I grow fat, and after +labouring all day at this and that have no desire to bear burdens like an ass. +So come if you will, and if you die or evil spirits carry you away, do not add +yourselves to the number of the ghosts, of whom there are too many hereabouts, +and blame me afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” I said, “we will make you our +heirs,” and I laid a bag containing some pieces of money upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +Palka, who was a saving woman, took the money, for I heard it rattle in her +hand, hung the jars about my shoulders, and gave Martina the meat and corn in a +basket. The flat cakes, however, she carried herself on a wooden trencher, +because, as she said, she feared lest we should break them and anger the +ghosts, who liked their food to be well served. So we started, and presently +entered the mouth of that awful valley which, Martina told me, looked as though +it had been riven through the mountain by lightning strokes and then blasted +with a curse. +</p> + +<p> +Up this dry and desolate place, which, she said, was bordered on either side by +walls of grey and jagged rock, we walked in silence. Only I noted that the dog +which had followed us from the house clung close to our heels and now and again +whimpered uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“The beast sees what we cannot see,” whispered Palka in +explanation. +</p> + +<p> +At last we halted, and I set down the jars at her bidding upon a flat rock +which she called the Table of Offerings. +</p> + +<p> +“See!” she exclaimed to Martina, “those that were placed here +three days ago are all emptied and neatly piled together by the ghosts. I told +Hodur that they did this, but he would not believe me. Now let us pack them up +in the baskets and begone, for the sun sets and the moon rises within the half +of an hour. I would not be here in the dark for ten pieces of pure gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go swiftly, Palka,” I said, “for we bide here this +night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” I answered. “A wise man once told me that if +one who is blind can but come face to face with a spirit, he sees it and +thereby regains his sight. If you would know the truth, that is why I have +wandered so far from my own country to find some land where ghosts may be +met.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now I am sure that you are mad,” exclaimed Palka. “Come, +Hilda, and leave this fool to make trial of his cure for blindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” answered Martina, “I must stay with my uncle, although +I am very much afraid. If I did not, he would beat me afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Beat you! Hodur beat a woman! Oh! you are both mad. Or perhaps you are +ghosts also. I have thought it once or twice, who at least am sure that you are +other than you seem. Holy Jesus! this place grows dark, and I tell you it is +full of dead kings. May the Saints guard you; at the least, you’ll keep +high company at your death. Farewell; whate’er befalls, blame me not who +warned you,” and she departed at a run, the empty vessels rattling on her +back and the dog yapping behind her. +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone the silence grew deep. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Martina,” I whispered, “find some place where we may +hide whence you can see this Table of Offerings.” +</p> + +<p> +She led me to where a fallen rock lay within a few paces, and behind it we sat +ourselves down in such a position that Martina could watch the Table of +Offerings by the light of the moon. +</p> + +<p> +Here we waited for a long while; it may have been two hours, or three, or four. +At least I knew that, although I could see nothing, the solemnity of that place +sank into my soul. I felt as though the dead were moving about me in the +silence. I think it was the same with Martina, for although the night was very +hot in that stifling, airless valley, she shivered at my side. At last I felt +her start and heard her whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“I see a figure. It creeps from the shadow of the cliff towards the Table +of Offerings.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it like?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a woman’s figure draped in white cloths; she looks about +her; she takes up the offerings and places them in a basket she carries. It is +a woman—no ghost—for she drinks from one of the jars. Oh! now the +moonlight shines upon her face; it is <i>that of Heliodore!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +I heard and could restrain myself no longer. Leaping up, I ran towards where I +knew the Table of Offerings to be. I tried to speak, but my voice choked in my +throat. The woman saw or heard me coming through the shadows. At least, +uttering a low cry, she fled away, for I caught the sound of her feet on the +rocks and sand. Then I tripped over a stone and fell down. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment Martina was at my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly you are foolish, Olaf,” she said. “Did you think that +the lady Heliodore would know you at night, changed as you are and in this +garb, that you must rush at her like an angry bull? Now she has gone, and +perchance we shall never find her more. Why did you not speak to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because my voice choked within me. Oh! blame me not, Martina. If you +knew what it is to love as I do and after so many fears and +sorrows——” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust that I should know also how to control my love,” broke in +Martina sharply. “Come, waste no more time in talk. Let us search.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she took me by the hand and led me to where she had last seen Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +“She has vanished away,” she said, “here is nothing but +rock.” +</p> + +<p> +“It cannot be,” I answered. “Oh! that I had my eyes again, if +for an hour, I who was the best tracker in Jutland. See if no stone has been +stirred, Martina. The sand will be damper where it has lain.” +</p> + +<p> +She left me, and presently returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I have found something,” she said. “When Heliodore fled she +still held her basket, which from the look of it was last used by the Pharaohs. +At least, one of the cakes has fallen from or through it. Come.” +</p> + +<p> +She led me to the cliff, and up it to perhaps twice the height of a man, then +round a projecting rock. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a hole,” she said, “such as jackals might make. +Perchance it leads into one of the old tombs whereof the mouth is sealed. It +was on the edge of the hole that I found the cake, therefore doubtless +Heliodore went down it. Now, what shall we do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Follow, I think. Where is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I go first. Give me your hand, Olaf, and lie upon your +breast.” +</p> + +<p> +I did so, and presently felt the weight of Martina swinging on my arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave go,” she said faintly, like one who is afraid. +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed, though with doubt, and heard her feet strike upon some floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks be the saints, all is well,” she said. “For aught I +knew this hole might have been as deep as that in the Chamber of the Pit. Let +yourself down it, feet first, and drop. ’Tis but shallow.” +</p> + +<p> +I did so, and found myself beside Martina. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, in the darkness you are the better guide,” she whispered. +“Lead on, I’ll follow, holding to your robe.” +</p> + +<p> +So I crept forward warily and safely, as the blind can do, till presently she +exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +“Halt, here is light again. I think that the roof of the tomb, for by the +paintings on the walls such it must be, has fallen in. It seems to be a kind of +central chamber, out of which run great galleries that slope downwards and are +full of bats. Ah! one of them is caught in my hair. Olaf, I will go no farther. +I fear bats more than ghosts, or anything in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, I considered a while till a thought struck me. On my back was my +beggar’s harp. I unslung it and swept its chords, and wild and sad they +sounded in that solemn place. Then I began to sing an old song that twice or +thrice I had sung with Heliodore in Byzantium. This song told of a lover +seeking his mistress. It was for two voices, since in the song the mistress +answered verse for verse. Here are those of the lines that I remember, or, +rather, the spirit of them rendered into English. I sang the first verse and +waited. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Dear maid of mine,<br/> + I bid my strings<br/> +Beat on thy shrine<br/> + With music’s wings.<br/> +Palace or cell<br/> + A shrine I see,<br/> +If there thou dwell<br/> + And answer me.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer, so I sang the second verse and once more waited. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“On thy love’s fire<br/> + My passion breathes,<br/> +Wind of Desire<br/> + Thy incense wreathes.<br/> +Greeting! To thee,<br/> + Or soon or late,<br/> +I, bond or free,<br/> + Am dedicate.” +</p> + +<p> +And from somewhere far away in the recesses of that great cave came the +answering strophe. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O Love sublime<br/> + And undismayed,<br/> +No touch of Time<br/> + Upon thee laid.<br/> +Take that is thine;<br/> + Ended the quest!<br/> +I seek <i>my</i> shrine<br/> + Upon <i>thy</i> breast.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I laid down the harp. +</p> + +<p> +At last a voice, the voice of Heliodore speaking whence I knew not, asked, +</p> + +<p> +“Do the dead sing, or is it a living man? And if so, how is that man +named?” +</p> + +<p> +“A living man,” I replied, “and he is named Olaf, son of +Thorvald, or otherwise Michael. That name was given him in the cathedral at +Byzantium, where first his eyes fell on a certain Heliodore, daughter of Magas +the Egyptian, whom now he seeks.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard the sound of footsteps creeping towards me and Heliodore’s voice +say, +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see your face, you who name yourself Olaf, for know that in these +haunted tombs ghosts and visions and mocking voices play strange tricks. Why do +you hide your face, you who call yourself Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because the eyes are gone from it, Heliodore. Irene robbed it of the +eyes from jealousy of you, swearing that never more should they behold your +beauty. Perchance you would not wish to come too near to an eyeless man wrapped +in a beggar’s robe.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked—I felt her look. She sobbed—I heard her sob, and then +her arms were about me and her lips were pressed upon my own. +</p> + +<p> +So at length came joy such as I cannot tell; the joy of lost love found again. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +A while went by, how long I know not, and at last I said, +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Martina? It is time we left this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Martina!” she exclaimed. “Do you mean Irene’s lady, +and is she here? If so, how comes she to be travelling with you, Olaf?” +</p> + +<p> +“As the best friend man ever had, Heliodore; as one who clung to him in +his ruin and saved him from a cruel death; as one who has risked her life to +help him in his desperate search, and without whom that search had +failed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then may God reward her, Olaf, for I did not know there were such women +in the world. Lady Martina! Where are you, lady Martina?” +</p> + +<p> +Thrice she cried the words, and at the third time an answer came from the +shadows at a distance. +</p> + +<p> +“I am here,” said Martina’s voice with a little yawn. +“I was weary and have slept while you two greeted each other. Well met at +last, lady Heliodore. See, I have brought you back your Olaf, blind it is true, +but otherwise lacking nothing of health and strength and station.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Heliodore ran to her and kissed first her hand and next her lips. In after +days she told me that for those of one who had been sleeping the eyes of +Martina seemed to be strangely wet and red. But if this were so her voice +trembled not at all. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly you two should give thanks to God,” she said, “Who has +brought you together again in so wondrous a fashion, as I do on your behalf +from the bottom of my heart. Yet you are still hemmed round by dangers many and +great. What now, Olaf? Will you become a ghost also and dwell here in the tomb +with Heliodore; and if so, what tale shall I tell to Palka and the rest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” I answered. “I think it will be best that we should +return to Kurna. Heliodore must play her part as the spirit of a queen till we +can hire some boat and escape with her down the Nile.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” she cried, “I cannot, I cannot. Having come together +we must separate no more. Oh! Olaf, you do not know what a life has been mine +during all these dreadful months. When I escaped from Musa by stabbing the +eunuch who was in charge of me, for which hideous deed may I be +forgiven,” and I felt her shudder at my side, “I fled I knew not +whither till I found myself in this valley, where I hid till the night was +gone. Then at daybreak I peeped out from the mouth of the valley and saw the +Moslems searching for me, but as yet a long way off. Also now I knew this +valley. It was that to which my father had brought me as a child when he came +to search for the burying-place of his ancestor, the Pharaoh, which records he +had read told him was here. I remembered everything: where the tomb should be, +how we had entered it through a hole, how we had found the mummy of a royal +lady, whose face was covered with a gilded mask, and on her breast the necklace +which I wear. +</p> + +<p> +“I ran along the valley, searching the left side of it with my eyes, till +I saw a flat stone which I knew again. It was called the Table of Offerings. I +was sure that the hole by which we had entered the tomb was quite near to this +stone and a little above it, in the face of the cliff. I climbed; I found what +seemed to be the hole, though of this I could not be certain. I crept down it +till it came to an end, and then, in my terror, hung by my hands and dropped +into the darkness, not knowing whither I fell, or caring over much if I were +killed. As it chanced it was but a little way, and, finding myself unhurt, I +crawled along the cavern till I reached this place where there is light, for +here the roof of the cave has fallen in. While I crouched amid the rocks I +heard the voices of the soldiers above me, heard their officer also bidding +them bring ropes and torches. To the left of where you stand there is a sloping +passage that runs down to the great central chamber where sleeps some mighty +king, and out of this passage open other chambers. Into the first of these the +light of the morning sun struggles feebly. I entered it, seeking somewhere to +hide myself, and saw a painted coffin lying on the floor near to the marble +sarcophagus from which it had been dragged. It was that in which we had found +the body of my ancestress; but since then thieves had been in this place. We +had left the coffin in the sarcophagus and the mummy in the coffin, and +replaced their lids. Now the mummy lay on the floor, half unwrapped and broken +in two beneath the breast. Moreover, the face, which I remembered as being so +like my own, was gone to dust, so that there remained of it nothing but a +skull, to which hung tresses of long black hair, as, indeed, you may see for +yourself. +</p> + +<p> +“By the side of the body was the gilded mask, with black and staring +eyes, and the painted breast-piece of stiff linen, neither of which the thieves +had found worth stealing. +</p> + +<p> +“I looked and a thought came to me. Lifting the mummy, I thrust it into +the sarcophagus, all of it save the gilded mask and the painted breast-piece of +stiff linen. Then I laid myself down in the coffin, of which the lid, still +lying crosswise, hid me to the waist, and drew the gilded mask and painted +breast-piece over my head and bosom. Scarcely was it done when the soldiers +entered. By now the reflected sunlight had faded from the place, leaving it in +deep shadow; but some of the men held burning torches made from splinters of +old coffins, that were full of pitch. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Feet have passed here; I saw the marks of them in the +dust,’ said the officer. ‘She may have hidden in this place. +Search! Search! It will go hard with us if we return to Musa to tell him that +he has lost his toy.’ +</p> + +<p> +“They looked into the sarcophagus and saw the broken mummy. Indeed, one +of them lifted it, unwillingly enough, and let it fall again, saying grimly, +</p> + +<p> +“‘Musa would scarce care for this companion, though in her day she +may have been fair enough.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then they came to the coffin. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Here’s another,’ exclaimed the soldier, ‘and +one with a gold face. Allah! how its eyes stare.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Pull it out,’ said the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Let that be your task,’ answered the man. ‘I’ll +defile myself with no more corpses.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The officer came and looked. ‘What a haunted hole is this, full of +the ghosts of idol worshippers, or so I think,’ he said. ‘Those +eyes stare curses at us. Well, the Christian maid is not here. On, before the +torches fail.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then they went, leaving me; the painted linen creaked upon my breast as +I breathed again. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Till nightfall I lay in that coffin, fearing lest they should +return; and I tell you, Olaf, that strange dreams came to me there, for I think +I swooned or slept in that narrow bed. Yes, dreams of the past, which you shall +hear one day, if we live, for they seem to have to do with you and me. Aye, I +thought that the dead woman in the sarcophagus at my side awoke and told them +to me. At length I rose and crept back to this place where we stand, for here I +could see the friendly light, and being outworn, laid me down and slept. +</p> + +<p> +“At the first break of day I crawled from the tomb, followed that same +road by which I had entered, though I found it hard to climb up through the +entrance hole. +</p> + +<p> +“No living thing was to be seen in the valley, except a great night bird +flitting to its haunt. I was parched with thirst, and knowing that in this dry +place I soon must perish, I glided from rock to rock towards the mouth of the +valley, thinking to find some other grave or cranny where I might lie hid till +night came again and I could descend to the plain and drink. But, Olaf, before +I had gone many steps I discovered fresh food, milk and water laid upon a rock, +and though I feared lest they might be poisoned, ate and drank of them. When I +knew that they were wholesome I thought that some friend must have set them +there to satisfy my wants, though I knew not who the friend could be. +Afterwards I learned that this food was an offering to the ghosts of the dead. +Among our forefathers in forgotten generations it was, I know, the custom to +make such offerings, since in their blindness they believed that the spirts of +their beloved needed sustenance as their bodies once had done. Doubtless the +memory of the rite still survives; at least, to this day the offerings are +made. Indeed, when it was found that they were not made in vain, more and more +of them were brought, so that I have lacked nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Here then I have dwelt for many moons among the dust of men departed, +only now and again wandering out at night. Once or twice folk have seen me when +I ventured to the plains, and I have been tempted to speak to them and ask +their help. But always they fled away, believing me to be the ghost of some +bygone queen. Indeed, to speak truth, Olaf, this companionship with spirits, +for spirits do dwell in these tombs—I have seen them, I tell you I have +seen them—has so worked upon my soul that at times I feel as though I +were already of their company. Moreover, I knew that I could not live long. The +loneliness was sucking up my life as the dry sand sucks water. Had you not +come, Olaf, within some few days or weeks I should have died.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I spoke for the first time, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“And did you wish to die, Heliodore?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Before the war between Musa and my father, Magas, news came to us +from Byzantium that Irene had killed you. All believed it save I, who did not +believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, Heliodore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I could not feel that you were dead. Therefore I fought for my +life, who otherwise, after we were conquered and ruined and my father was slain +fighting nobly, should have stabbed, not that eunuch, but myself. Then later, +in this tomb, I came to know that you were not dead. The other lost ones I +could feel about me from time to time, but you never, you who would have been +the first to seek me when my soul was open to such whisperings. So I lived on +when all else would have died, because hope burned in me like a lamp +unquenchable. And at last you came! Oh! at last you came!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> +CHAPTER IV<br/> +THE CALIPH HARUN</h2> + +<p> +Here there is an absolute blank in my story. One of those walls of oblivion of +which I have spoken seems to be built across its path. It is as though a stream +had plunged suddenly from some bright valley into the bosom of a mountain side +and there vanished from the ken of man. What happened in the tomb after +Heliodore had ended her tale; whether we departed thence together or left her +there a while; how we escaped from Kurna, and by what good fortune or artifice +we came safely to Alexandria, I know not. As to all these matters my vision +fails me utterly. So far as I am concerned, they are buried beneath the dust of +time. I know as little of them as I know of where and how I slept between my +life as Olaf and this present life of mine; that is, nothing at all. Yet in +this way or in that the stream did win through the mountain, since beyond all +grows clear again. +</p> + +<p> +Once more I stood upon the deck of the <i>Diana</i> in the harbour of +Alexandria. With me were Martina and Heliodore. Heliodore’s face was +stained and she was dressed as a boy, such a harlequin lad as singers and +mountebanks often take in their company. The ship was ready to start and the +wind served. Yet we could not sail because of the lack of some permission. A +Moslem galley patrolled the harbour and threatened to sink us if we dared to +weigh without this paper. The mate had gone ashore with a bribe. We waited and +waited. At length the captain, Menas, who stood by me, whispered into my ear, +</p> + +<p> +“Be calm; he comes; all is well.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I heard the mate shout: “I have the writing under seal,” and +Menas gave the order to cast off the ropes that held the ship to the quay. One +of the sailors came up and reported to Menas that their companion, Cosmas, was +missing. It seemed that he had slipped ashore without leave and had not +returned. +</p> + +<p> +“There let him bide,” said Menas, with an oath. “Doubtless +the hog lies drunk in some den. When he awakes he may tell what tale he pleases +and find his own way back to Lesbos. Cast off, cast off! I say.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment that same Cosmas appeared. I could not see him, but I could hear +him plainly enough. Evidently he had become involved in some brawl, for an +angry woman and others were demanding money of him and he was shouting back +drunken threats. A man struck him and the woman got him by the beard. Then his +reason left him altogether. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I, a Christian, to be treated thus by you heathen dogs?” he +screamed. “Oh, you think I am dirt beneath your feet. I have friends, I +tell you I have friends. You know not whom I serve. I say that I am a soldier +of Olaf the Northman, Olaf the Blind, Olaf Red-Sword, he who made you +prophet-worshippers sing so small at Mitylene, as he will do again ere +long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, friend,” said a quiet voice. It was that of the Moslem +captain, Yusuf, he who befriended us when we arrived at Alexandria, who had +been watching all this scene. “Then you serve a great general, as some of +us have cause to know. Tell me, where is he now, for I hear that he has left +Lesbos?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he? Why, aboard yonder ship, of course. Oh! he has fooled you +finely. Another time you’ll search beggar’s rags more +closely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cast off! Cast off!” roared Menas. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said the officer, “cast not off. Soldiers, drive away +those men. I must have words with the captain of this ship. Come, bring that +drunken fellow with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now all is finished,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Heliodore, “all is finished. After we have +endured so much it is hard. Well, at least death remains to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your hand,” exclaimed Martina. “God still lives and can +save us yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Black bitterness took hold of me. In some few days I had hoped to reach Lesbos, +and there be wed to Heliodore. And now! And now! +</p> + +<p> +“Cut the ropes, Menas,” I cried, “and out with the oars. +We’ll risk the galley. You, Martina, set me at the mouth of the gangway +and tell me when to strike. Though I be blind I may yet hold them back till we +clear the quay.” +</p> + +<p> +She obeyed, and I drew the red sword from beneath my rags. Then, amidst the +confusion which followed, I heard the grave voice of Yusuf speaking to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” he said, “for your own sake I pray you put up that +sword, which we think is one whereof tales have been told. To fight is useless, +for I have bowmen who can shoot you down and spears that can outreach you. +General Olaf, a brave man should know when to surrender, especially if he be +blind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, sir,” I answered, “and a brave man should know when to +die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you die, General?” went on the voice. “I do not +know that for a Christian to visit Egypt disguised as a beggar will be held a +crime worthy of death, unless indeed you came hither to spy out the +land.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can the blind spy?” asked Martina indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who can say, Lady? But certainly it seems that <i>your</i> eyes are +bright and quick enough. Also there is another matter. A while ago, when this +ship came to Alexandria, I signed a paper giving leave to a certain eyeless +musician and his niece to ply their trade in Egypt. Then there were two of you; +now I behold a third. Who is that comely lad with a stained face that stands +beside you?” +</p> + +<p> +Heliodore began some story, saying that she was the orphan son of I forget +whom, and while she told it certain of the Moslems slipped past me. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly you should do well in the singing trade,” interrupted the +officer with a laugh, “seeing that for a boy your voice is wondrous +sweet. Are you quite sure that you remember your sex aright? Well, it can +easily be proved. Bare that lad’s bosom, soldiers. Nay, ’tis +needless; snatch off that head-dress.” +</p> + +<p> +A man obeyed, and Heliodore’s beautiful black hair, which I would not +suffer her to cut, fell tumbling to her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me be,” she said. “I admit that I am a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is generous of you, Lady,” the officer answered in the midst +of the laughter which followed. “Now will you add to your goodness by +telling me your name? You refuse? Then shall I help you? In the late Coptic war +it was my happy fortune twice to see a certain noble maiden, the daughter of +Magas the Prince, whom the Emir Musa afterwards took for himself, but who fled +from him. Tell me, Lady, have you a twin sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease your mockings, sir,” said Heliodore despairingly. “I +am she you seek.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis Musa seeks you, not I, Lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, he seeks in vain, for know that ere he finds I die. Oh! sir, +I know you have a noble heart; be pitiful and let us go. I’ll tell you +all the truth. Olaf Red-Sword yonder and I have long been affianced. Blind +though he is, he sought me through great dangers, aye, and found me. Would you +part us at the last? In the name of the God we both worship, and of your +mother, I pray you let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the Prophet, that I would do, Lady, only then I fear me that I should +let my head go from its shoulders also. There are too many in this secret for +it to bide there long if I did as you desire. Nay, you must to the Emir, all +three of you—not Musa, but to his rival, Obaidallah, who loves him +little, and by the decree of the Caliph once again rules Egypt. Be sure that in +a matter between you and Musa you will meet with justice from Obaidallah. Come +now, fearing nothing, to where we may find you all garments more befitting to +your station than those mummer’s robes.” +</p> + +<p> +So a guard was formed round us, and we went. As my feet touched the quay I +heard a sound of angry voices, followed by groans and a splash in the water. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” I asked of Yusuf. +</p> + +<p> +“I think, General, that your servants from the <i>Diana</i> have settled +some account that they had with the drunken dog who was so good as to bark out +your name to me. But, with your leave, I will not look to make sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“God pardon him! As yet I cannot,” I muttered, and marched on. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +We stood, whether on that day or another I do not know, in some hall of +judgment. Martina whispered to me that a small, dark man was seated in the +chair of state, and about him priests and others. This was the Emir Obaidallah. +Musa, that had been Emir, who, she said, was fat and sullen, was there also, +and whenever his glance fell upon Heliodore I felt her shiver at my side. So +was the Patriarch Politian who pleaded our cause. The case was long, so long +that, being courteous as ever, they gave us cushions to sit on, also, in an +interval, food and sherbet. +</p> + +<p> +Musa claimed Heliodore as his slave. An officer who prosecuted claimed that +Allah having given me, their enemy and a well-known general who had done them +much damage, into their hands, I should be put to death. Politian answered on +behalf of all of us, saying that we had harmed no man. He added that as there +was a truce between the Christians and the Moslems, I could not be made to +suffer the penalties of war in a time of peace, who had come to Egypt but to +seek a maid to whom I was affianced. Moreover, that even if it were so, the +murder of prisoners was not one of those penalties. +</p> + +<p> +The Emir listened to all but said little. At length, however, he asked whether +we were willing to become Moslems, since if so he thought that we might go +free. We answered that we were not willing. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it would seem,” he said, “that the lady Heliodore, +having been taken in war, must be treated as a prisoner of war, the only +question being to whom she belongs.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Musa interrupted angrily, shouting out that as to this there was no doubt, +since she belonged to him, who had captured her during his tenure of office. +</p> + +<p> +The Emir thought a while, and we waited trembling. At last he gave judgment, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“The General Olaf the Blind, who in Byzantium was known as Olaf Red-Sword +or as Michael, and who while in the service of the Empress Irene often made war +against the followers of the Prophet, but who afterwards lost his eyes at the +hands of this same evil woman, is a man of whom all the world has heard. +Particularly have we Moslems heard of him, seeing that as governor of Lesbos in +recent days he inflicted a great defeat upon our navy, slaying many thousands +and taking others prisoner. But as it chances God, Who bides His time to work +justice, set a bait for him in the shape of a fair woman. On this bait he has +been hooked, notwithstanding all his skill and cunning, and delivered into our +hands, having come into Egypt disguised as a beggar in order to seek out that +woman. Still, as he is so famous a man, and as at present there is a truce +between us and the Empire of the East, which truce raises certain doubtful +points of high policy, I decree that his case be remitted to the Caliph +Harun-al-Rashid, my master, and that he be conveyed to Baghdad there to await +judgment. With him will go the woman whom he alleges to be his niece, but who, +as we are informed, was one of the waiting-ladies of the Empress Irene. Against +her there is nothing to be said save that she may be a Byzantine spy. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I come to the matter of the lady Heliodore, who is reported to be +the wife or the lover or the affianced of this General Olaf, a question of +which God alone knows the truth. This lady Heliodore is a person of high +descent and ancient race. She is the only child of the late Prince Magas, who +claimed to have the blood of the old Pharaohs in his veins, and who within this +year was defeated and slain by my predecessor in office, the Emir Musa. The +said Emir, having captured the lady Heliodore, purposed to place her in his +harem, as he had a right to do, seeing that she refused the blessings of the +Faith. As it chanced, however, she escaped from him, as it is told by stabbing +the eunuch in charge of her. At least it is certain that this eunuch was found +dead, though by whom he was killed is <i>not</i> certain. Now that she has been +taken again, the lord Musa claims the woman as his spoil and demands that I +should hand her over to him. Yet it seems to me that if she is the spoil of +anyone, she belongs to the Emir governing Egypt at the date of her recapture. +It was only by virtue of his office as Emir, and not by gift, purchase, or +marriage contract, that the lord Musa came into possession of her, which +possession was voided by her flight before she was added to his household and +he acquired any natural rights over her in accordance with our law. Now for my +part, I, as Emir, make no claim to this woman, holding it a hateful thing +before God to force one into my household who has no wish to dwell there, +especially when I know her to be married or affianced to another man. Still, as +here also are involved high questions of law, I command that the lady +Heliodore, daughter of the late Prince Magas, shall also be conveyed with all +courtesy and honour to the Caliph Harun at Baghdad, there to abide his judgment +of her case. The matter is finished. Let the officers concerned carry out my +decree and answer for the safety of these prisoners with their lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“The matter is not finished,” shouted the ex-Emir Musa. “You, +Obaidallah, have uttered this false judgment because your heart is black +towards me whom you have displaced.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then appeal against it,” said Obaidallah, “but know that if +you attempt to lay hands upon this lady, my orders are that you be cut down as +an enemy to the law. Patriarch of the Christians, you sail for Baghdad to visit +the Caliph at his request in a ship that he has sent for you. Into your hands I +give these prisoners under guard, knowing that you will deal well with them, +who are of your false faith. To you also who have the Caliph’s ear, Allah +knows why, I will entrust letters making true report of all this matter. Let +proper provision be made for the comfort of the General Olaf and of those with +him. Musa, may your greetings at the Court of Baghdad be such as you deserve; +meanwhile cease to trouble me.” +</p> + +<p> +At the door of that hall I was separated from Heliodore and Martina and led to +some house or prison, where I was given a large room with servants to wait upon +me. Here I slept that night, and on the morrow asked when we sailed for Beirut +on our way to Baghdad. The chief of the servants answered that he did not know. +During that day I was visited by Yusuf, the officer who had captured us on +board the <i>Diana</i>. He also told me that he did not know when we sailed, +but certainly it would not be for some days. Further, he said that I need have +no fear for the lady Heliodore and Martina, as they were well treated in some +other place. Then he led me into a great garden, where he said I was at liberty +to walk whenever I pleased. +</p> + +<p> +Thus began perhaps the most dreadful time of waiting and suspense in all this +life of mine, seeing that it was the longest. Every few days the officer Yusuf +would visit me and talk of many matters, for we became friends. Only of +Heliodore and Martina he could or would tell me nothing, nor of when we were to +set out on our journey to Baghdad. I asked to be allowed to speak with the +Patriarch Politian, but he answered that this was impossible, as he had been +called away from Alexandria for a little while. Nor could I have audience with +the Emir Obaidallah, for he too had been called away. +</p> + +<p> +Now my heart was filled with terrors, for I feared lest in this way or in that +Heliodore had fallen into the hands of the accursed Musa. I prayed Yusuf to +tell me the truth of the matter, whereon he swore by the Prophet that she was +safe, but would say no more. Nor did this comfort me much, since for aught I +knew he might mean she was safe in death. I was aware, further, that the +Moslems held it no crime to deceive an infidel. Week was added to week, and +still I languished in this rich prison. The best of garments and food were +brought to me; I was even given wine. Kind hands tended me and led me from +place to place. I lacked nothing except freedom and the truth. Doubt and fear +preyed upon my heart till at length I fell ill and scarcely cared to walk in +the garden. One day when Yusuf visited me I told him that he would not need to +come many more times, since I felt that I was going to die. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not die,” he answered, “since then perchance you will +find you have done so in vain,” and he left me. +</p> + +<p> +On the following evening he returned and told me that he had brought a +physician to see me, a certain Mahommed, who was standing before me. Although I +had no hope from any physician, I prayed this Mahommed to be seated, whereon +Yusuf left us, closing the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Be pleased to set out your case, General Olaf,” said Mahommed in a +grave, quiet voice, “for know that I am sent by the Caliph himself to +minister to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can that be, seeing that he is in Baghdad?” I answered. Still, +I told him my ailments. +</p> + +<p> +When I had finished he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I perceive that you suffer more from your mind than from your body. Be +so good, now, as to repeat to me the tale of your life, of which I have already +heard something. Tell me especially of those parts of it which have to do with +the lady Heliodore, daughter of Magas, of your blinding by Irene for her sake, +and of your discovery of her in Egypt, where you sought her disguised as a +beggar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I tell you all my story, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I may know how to heal you of your sickness. Also, General Olaf, I +will be frank with you. I am more than a mere physician; I have certain powers +under the Caliph’s seal, and it will be wise on your part to open all +your heart to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I reflected that there could be little harm in repeating to this strange +doctor what so many already knew. So I told him everything, and the tale was +long. +</p> + +<p> +“Wondrous! Most wondrous!” said the grave-voiced physician when I +had finished. “Yet to me the strangest part of your history is that +played therein by the lady Martina. Had she been your lover, now, one might +have understood—perhaps,” and he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Physician,” I answered, “the lady Martina has been and +is no more than my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Now I see new virtues in your religion, since we Moslems do not find +such friends among those women who are neither our mothers nor our sisters. +Evidently the Christian faith must have power to change the nature of women, +which I thought to be impossible. Well, General Olaf, I will consider of your +case, and I may tell you that I have good hopes of finding a medicine by which +it can be cured, all save your sight, which in this world God Himself cannot +give back to you. Now I have a favour to ask. I see that in this room of yours +there is a curtain hiding the bed of the servant who sleeps with you. I desire +to see another patient here, and that this patient should not see you. Of your +goodness will you sit upon the bed behind that curtain, and will you swear to +me on your honour as a soldier that whatever you may hear you will in no way +reveal yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, that is if it is nothing which will bring disgrace upon my head +or name.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be nothing to bring disgrace on your head or name, General Olaf, +though perhaps it may bring some sorrow to your heart. As yet I cannot +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“My heart is too full of sorrow to hold more,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +Then he led me down to the guard’s bed, on which I sat myself down, being +strangely interested in this play. He drew the curtain in front of me, and I +heard him return to the centre of the room and clap his hands. Someone entered, +saying, +</p> + +<p> +“High Lord, your will?” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” he exclaimed, and began to whisper orders, while I +wondered what kind of a physician this might be who was addressed as +“High Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant went, and, after a while of waiting that seemed long, once more the +door was opened, and I heard the sweep of a woman’s dress upon the +carpet. +</p> + +<p> +“Be seated, Lady,” said the grave voice of the physician, +“for I have words to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I obey,” answered another voice, at the sound of which my +heart stood still. It was that of Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” went on the physician, “as my robe will tell you, I +am a doctor of medicine. Also, as it chances, I am something more, namely, an +envoy appointed by the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid, having full powers to deal with +your case. Here are my credentials if you care to read them,” and I heard +a crackling as of parchment being unfolded. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” answered Heliodore, “I will read the letters later. +For the present I accept your word. Only I would ask one question, if it +pleases you to answer. Why have not I and the General Olaf been conveyed to the +presence of the Caliph himself, as was commanded by the Emir Obaidallah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady, because it was not convenient to the Caliph to receive you, since +as it chances at present he is moving from place to place upon the business of +the State. Therefore, as you will find in the writing, he has appointed me to +deal with your matter. Now, Lady, the Caliph and I his servant know all your +story from lips which even you would trust. You are betrothed to a certain +enemy of his, a Northman named Olaf Red-Sword or Michael, who was blinded by +the Empress Irene for some offence against her, but was afterwards appointed by +her son Constantine to be governor of the Isle of Lesbos. This Olaf, by the +will of God, inflicted a heavy defeat upon the forces of the Caliph which he +had sent to take Lesbos. Then, by the goodness of God, he wandered to Egypt in +search of you, with the result that both of you were taken prisoner. Lady, it +will be clear to you that, having this wild hawk Olaf in his hands, the Caliph +would scarcely let him go again to prey upon the Moslems, though whether he +will kill him or make of him a slave as yet I do not know. Nay, hear me out +before you speak. The Caliph has been told of your wondrous beauty, and as I +see even less than the truth. Also he has heard of the high spirit which you +showed in the Coptic rising, when your father, the Prince Magas, was slain, and +of how you escaped out of the hand of the Emir Musa the Fat, and were not +afraid to dwell for months alone in the tombs of the ancient dead. Now the +Caliph, being moved in his heart by your sad plight and all that he has heard +concerning you, commands me to make you an offer. +</p> + +<p> +“The offer is that you should come to his Court, and there be instructed +for a while by his learned men in the truths of religion. Then, if it pleases +you to adopt Islam, he will take you as one of his wives, and if it does not +please you, will add you to his harem, since it is not lawful for him to marry +a woman who remains a Christian. In either case he will make on you a +settlement of property to the value of that which belonged to your father, the +Prince Magas. Reflect well before you answer. Your choice lies between the +memory of a blind man, whom I think you will never see again, and the high +place of one of the wives of the greatest sovereign of the earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, before I answer I would put a question to you. Why do you say +‘the memory of a blind man’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Lady, a rumour has reached me which I desired to hold back from +you, but which now you force me to repeat. It is that this General Olaf has in +truth already passed the gate of death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” she answered, with a little sob, “it behoves me +to follow him through that gate.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will happen when it pleases God. Meanwhile, what is your +answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, my answer is that I, a poor Christian prisoner, a victim of war and +fate, thank the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid for the honours and the benefits he +would shower on me, and with humility decline them.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, Lady. The Caliph is not a man who would wish to force your +inclination. Still, this being so, I am charged to say he bids you remember +that you were taken prisoner in war by the Emir Musa. He holds that, subject to +his own prior right, which he waives, you are the property of the Emir Musa +under a just interpretation of the law. Yet he would be merciful as God is +merciful, and therefore he gives you the choice of three things. The first of +these is that you adopt Islam with a faithful heart and go free.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I refuse, as I have refused it before,” said Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +“The second is,” he continued, “that you enter the harem of +the Emir Musa.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I refuse also.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the third and last is that, having thrust aside his mercy, you +suffer the common fate of a captured Christian who persists in error, and +die.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I accept,” said Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +“You accept death. In the splendour of your youth and beauty, you accept +death,” he said, with a note of wonder in his voice. “Truly, you +are great-hearted, and the Caliph will grieve when he learns his loss, as I do +now. Yet I have my orders, for which my head must answer. Lady, if you die, it +must be here and now. Do you still choose death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold this cup,” he went on, “and this draught which I pour +into it,” and I heard the sound of liquid flowing. “Presently I +shall ask you to drink of it, and then, after a little while, say the half of +an hour, you will fall asleep, to wake in whatever world God has appointed to +the idol worshippers of the Cross. You will suffer no pain and no fear; indeed, +maybe the draught will bring you joy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then give it me,” said Heliodore faintly. “I will drink at +once and have done.” +</p> + +<p> +Then it was that I came out from behind my curtain and groped my way towards +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Physician, or Sir Envoy of the Caliph Harun,” I said; but for +the moment went no further, since, with a low cry, Heliodore cast herself upon +my breast and stopped my lips with hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush till I have spoken,” I whispered, placing my arm about her; +then continued. “I swore to you just now that I would not reveal myself +unless I heard aught which would bring disgrace on my head or name. To stand +still behind yonder curtain while my betrothed is poisoned at your hands would +bring disgrace upon my head and name so black that not all the seas of all the +world could wash it away. Say, Physician, does yonder cup hold enough of death +for both of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, General Olaf, and if you choose to share it I think the Caliph will +be glad, since he loves not the killing of brave men. Only it must be now and +without more words. You can talk for a little afterwards before the sleep takes +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” I said. “Since I must die, as I heard you decree +but now, it is no crime to die thus, or at least I’ll risk it who have +one to guard upon that road. Drink, beloved, a little less than half since I am +the stronger. Then give me the cup.” +</p> + +<p> +“Husband, I pledge you,” she said, and drank, thrusting the cup +into my hand. +</p> + +<p> +I, too, lifted it to my lips. Lo! it was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! most cruel of thieves,” I cried, “you have stolen +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” she answered. “Shall I see you swallow poison before +my eyes? I die, but perchance God may save you yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Heliodore,” I cried again, and, turning, began to grope my +way to the window-place, which I knew was far from the ground, since I had no +weapon that would serve my turn. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant, as I thrust the lattice open, I felt two strong arms cast about +me and heard the physician exclaim, +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Lady, help me with this madman, lest he do himself a +mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +She seized me also, and we struggled together all three of us. The doors burst +open, and I was dragged back into the centre of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf Red-Sword, the blind General of the Christians,” said the +physician in a new voice, one that was full of majesty and command, “I +who speak to you am no doctor of medicine and no envoy. I am Harun-al-Rashid, +Caliph of the Faithful. Is it not so, my servants?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is so, Caliph,” pealed the answer from many throats. +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken, then, to the decree of Harun-al-Rashid. Learn both of you that +all which has passed between us was but a play that I have played to test the +love and faithfulness of you twain. Lady Heliodore, be at ease. You have drunk +nothing save water distilled with roses, and no sleep shall fall on you save +that which Nature brings to happiness. Lady, I tell you that, having seen what +I have seen and heard what I have heard, rather would I stand in the place of +that blind man to-night than be Sovereign of the East. Truly, I knew not that +love such as yours was to be met with in the world. I say that when I saw you +drain the cup in a last poor struggle to drive back the death that threatened +this Olaf my own heart went out in love for you. Yet have no fear, since my +love is of a kind that would not rob you of your love, but rather would bring +it to a rich and glorious blossom in the sunshine of my favour. Wondrous is the +tale of the wooing of you twain and happy shall be its end. General Olaf, you +conquered me in war and dealt with those of my servants who fell into your +hands according to the nobleness of your heart. Shall I, then, be outdone in +generosity by one whom a while ago I should have named a Christian dog? Not so! +Let the high priest of the Christians, Politian, be brought hither. He stands +without, and with him the lady named Martina, who was the Empress Irene’s +waiting-woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The messengers went and there followed a silence. There are times when the +heart is too full for words; at least, Heliodore and I found nothing to say to +each other. We only clasped each other’s hand and waited. +</p> + +<p> +At length the door opened, and I heard the eager, bustling step of Politian, +also another gliding step, which I knew for that of Martina. She came to me, +she kissed me on the brow, and whispered into my ear, +</p> + +<p> +“So all is well at last, as I knew it would be; and now, Olaf—and +now, Olaf, you are about to be married. Yes, at once, and—I wish you +joy.” +</p> + +<p> +Her words were simple enough, yet they kindled in my heart a light by which it +saw many things. +</p> + +<p> +“Martina,” I said, “if I have lived to reach this hour, under +God it is through you. Martina, they say that each of us has a guardian angel +in heaven, and if that be so, mine has come to earth. Yet in heaven alone shall +I learn to thank her as I ought.” +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly Martina was sobbing on my breast; after which I remember only +that Heliodore helped me to wipe away her tears, while in the background I +heard the Caliph say to himself in his deep voice, +</p> + +<p> +“Wondrous! Wondrous! By Allah! these Christians are a strange folk. How +far wiser is our law, for then he could have married both of them, and all +three would have been happy. Truly he who decreed that it should be so knew the +heart of man and woman and was a prophet sent by God. Nay, answer me not, +friend Politian, since on matters of religion we have agreed that we will never +argue. Do your office according to your unholy rites, and I and my servants +will watch, praying that the Evil One may be absent from the service. Oh! +silence, silence! Have I not said that we will not argue on subjects of +religion? To your business, man.” +</p> + +<p> +So Politian drew us together to the other end of the chamber, and there wed us +as best he might, with Martina for witness and the solemn Moslems for +congregation. +</p> + +<p> +When it was over, Harun commanded my wife to lead me before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a marriage gift for you, General Olaf,” he said; +“one, I think, that you will value more than any other,” and he +handed me something sharp and heavy. +</p> + +<p> +I felt it, hilt and blade, and knew it for the Wanderer’s sword, yes, my +own red sword from which I took my name, that the Commander of the Faithful now +restored to me, and with it my place and freedom. I took it, and, saying no +word, with that same sword gave to him the triple salute due to a sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly I heard Harun’s scimitar, the scimitar that was famous +throughout the East, rattle as it left its scabbard, as did the scimitars of +all those who attended on him, and knew that there was being returned to me the +salute which a sovereign gives to a general in high command. Then the Caliph +spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“A wedding gift to you, Lady Heliodore, child of an ancient and mighty +race, and new-made wife of a gallant man. For the second time to-night take +this cup of gold, but let that which lies within it adorn your breast in memory +of Harun. Queens of old have worn those jewels, but never have they hung above +a nobler heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Heliodore took the cup, and in her trembling hand I heard the priceless gems +that filled it clink against its sides. Once more the Caliph spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“A gift for you also, Lady Martina. Take this ring from my hand and place +it on your own. It seems a small thing, does it not? Yet something lies within +its circle. In this city I saw to-day a very beauteous house built by one of +your Grecian folk, and behind it lands that a swift horse could scarcely circle +twice within an hour, most fruitful lands fed by the waters. That house and +those lands are yours, together with rule over all who dwell upon them. There +you may live content with whomever you may please, even if he be a Christian, +free of tax or tribute, provided only that neither you nor he shall plot +against my power. Now, to all three of you farewell, perchance for ever, unless +some of us should meet again in war. General Olaf, your ship lies in the +harbour; use it when you will. I pray that you will think kindly of +Harun-al-Rashid, as he does of you, Olaf Red-Sword. Come, let us leave these +two. Lady Martina, I pray you to be my guest this night.” +</p> + +<p> +So they all went, leaving Heliodore and myself alone in the great room, yes, +alone at last and safe. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"></a> +CHAPTER V<br/> +IRENE’S PRAYER</h2> + +<p> +Years had gone by, I know not how many, but only that much had happened in +them. For a while Irene and young Constantine were joint rulers of the Empire. +Then they quarrelled again, and Constantine, afraid of treachery, fled with his +friends in a ship after an attempt had been made to seize his person. He +purposed to join his legions in Asia, or so it was said, and make war upon his +mother. But those friends of his upon the ship were traitors, who, fearing +Irene’s vengeance or perhaps his own, since she threatened to tell him +all the truth concerning them, seized Constantine and delivered him up to +Irene. She, the mother who bore him, caused him to be taken to the purple +Porphyry Chamber in the palace, that chamber in which, as the first-born of an +emperor, he saw the light, and there robbed him of light for ever. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Stauracius and his butchers blinded Constantine as I had been blinded. +Only it was told that they drove their knives deeper so that he died. But +others say that he lived on, a prisoner, unknown, unheeded, as those uncles of +his whom <i>he</i> had blinded and who once were in my charge had lived, till +in Greece the assassin’s daggers found their hearts. If so, oh! what a +fate was his. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards for five years Irene reigned alone in glory, while Stauracius, my +god-father, and his brother eunuch, Aetius, strove against each other to be +first Minister of the Crown. Aetius won, and, not content with all he had, +plotted that his relative Nicetas, who held the place of Captain of the Guard, +which once I filled, should be named successor to the throne. Then at last the +nobles rebelled, and, electing one of their number, Nicephorus, as emperor, +seized Irene in her private house of Eleutherius, where she lay sick, and +crowned Nicephorus in St. Sophia. Next day he visited Irene, when, fearing the +worst and broken by illness, she bought a promise of safety by revealing to him +all her hoarded treasure. +</p> + +<p> +Thus fell Irene, the mighty Empress of the Eastern Empire! +</p> + +<p> +Now during all these years Heliodore and I were left in peace at Lesbos. I was +not deposed from my governorship of that isle, which prospered greatly under my +rule. Even Irene’s estates, which Constantine had given me, were not +taken away. At the appointed times I remitted the tribute due, yes, and added +to the sum, and received back the official acknowledgment signed by the +Empress, and with it the official thanks. But with these never came either +letter or message. Yet it is evident she knew that I was married, for to +Heliodore did come a message, and with it a gift. The gift was that necklace +and those other ornaments which Irene had caused to be made in an exact +likeness of the string of golden shells separated by emerald beetles, one half +of which I had taken from the grave of the Wanderer at Aar and the other half +of which was worn by Heliodore. +</p> + +<p> +So much of the gift. The message was that she who owned the necklace might wish +to have the rest of the set. To it were added the words that a certain general +had been wrong when he prophesied that the wearing of this necklace by any +woman save one would bring ill fortune to the wearer, since from the day it +hung about Irene’s neck even that which seemed to be bad fortune had +turned to good. Thus she had escaped “the most evil thing in the world, +namely, another husband,” and had become the first woman in the world. +</p> + +<p> +These words, which were written on a piece of sheepskin, sealed up, and +addressed to the Lady Heliodore, but unsigned, I thought of the most evil omen, +since boastfulness always seems to be hateful to the Power that decrees our +fates. So, indeed, they proved to be. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On a certain day in early summer—it was the anniversary of my marriage in +Egypt—Heliodore and I had dined with but two guests. Those guests were +Jodd, the great Northman, my lieutenant, and his wife, Martina, for within a +year of our return to Lesbos Jodd and Martina had married. It comes back to me +that there was trouble about the business, but that when Jodd gave out that +either she must marry him or that he would sail back to his northern land, +bidding good-bye to us all for ever, Martina gave way. I think that Heliodore +managed the matter in some fashion of her own after the birth of our first-born +son; how, I held it best never to inquire. At least, it was managed, and the +marriage turned out well enough in the end, although at first Martina was moody +at times and somewhat sharp of tongue with Jodd. Then they had a baby which +died, and this dead child drew them closer together than it might have done had +it lived. At any rate, from that time forward Martina grew more gentle with +Jodd, and when other children were born they seemed happy together. +</p> + +<p> +Well, we four had dined, and it comes to me that our talk turned upon the +Caliph Harun and his wonderful goodness to us, whom as Christians he was bound +to despise and hate. Heliodore told me then for the first time how she was glad +he had made it clear so soon that what she drank from the gold cup which now +stood upon our table was no more than rose water. +</p> + +<p> +So strong is the working of the mind that already she had begun to feel as +though poison were numbing her heart and clouding her brain, and was sure that +soon she would have fallen into the sleep which Harun had warned her would end +in death. +</p> + +<p> +“Had he been a true physician, he would have known that this might be so, +and that such grim jests are very dangerous,” I said. Then I added, for I +did not wish to dwell longer upon a scene the memory of which was dreadful to +me, although it had ended well, +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us, Martina, is it true that those rich possessions of yours in +Alexandria which the Caliph gave you are sold?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Olaf,” she answered, “to a company of Greek merchants, +and not so ill. The contract was signed but yesterday. It was my wish that we +should leave Lesbos and go to live in this place, as we might have done with +safety under Harun’s signed <i>firman</i>, but Jodd here refused.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” said Jodd in his big voice. “Am I one to dwell among +Moslems and make money out of trade and gardens in however fine a house? Why, I +should have been fighting with these prophet-worshippers within a month, and +had my throat cut. Moreover, how could I bear to be separated from my general, +and whatever she may think, how could Martina bear to lose sight of her +god-son? Why, Olaf, I tell you that, although you are married and she is +married, she still thinks twice as much of you as she does of me. Oh! blind +man’s dog once, blind man’s dog always! Look not so angry, Martina. +Why, I wonder, does the truth always make women angry?” and he burst into +one of his great laughs. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Heliodore rose from the table and walked to the open +window-place to speak to our children and Martina’s, a merry company who +were playing together in the garden. Here she stood a while studying the +beautiful view of the bay beneath; then of a sudden called out, +</p> + +<p> +“A ship! A ship sailing into the harbour, and it flies the Imperial +standard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then pray God she brings no bad news,” I said, who feared that +Imperial standard and felt that we had all been somewhat too happy of late. +Moreover, I knew that no royal ship was looked for from Byzantium at this time, +and dreaded lest this one should bear letters from the new Emperor dismissing +me from my office, or even worse tidings. +</p> + +<p> +“What bad news should she bring?” growled Jodd. “Oh! I know +what is in your mind, General, but if this upstart Nicephorus is wise, +he’ll leave you alone, since Lesbos does not want another governor, and +will tell him so if there be need. Yes, it will take more than one ship of war, +aye, and more than three, to set up another governor in Lesbos. Nay, rebuke me +not, General, for I at least have sworn no oath of homage to this Nicephorus, +nor have the other Northmen or the men of Lesbos.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are like a watchdog, Jodd, barking at you know not what, just +because it is strange. Go now, I pray you, to the quay, and bring back to us +news of this ship.” +</p> + +<p> +So he went, and for the next two hours or more I sat in my private room +dictating letters to Heliodore on matters connected with the duties of my +office. The work came to an end at last, and I was preparing to take my evening +ride on a led mule when Martina entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ride with us to-night, Martina?” I asked, recognising her +step. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Olaf,” she said quickly, “nor I think can you. Here are +letters for you from Byzantium. Jodd has brought them from the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Jodd?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Without, in the company of the captain of the ship, some guards, and a +prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“What prisoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perchance the letters will tell you,” she replied evasively. +“Have I your command to open and read? They are marked ‘Most +Secret.’” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded, since Martina often acted as my secretary in high matters, being from +her training skilled in such things. So she broke the seals and read to myself +and to Heliodore, who also was present in the room, as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“‘To the Excellent Michael, a General of our armies and Governor of +the Isle of Lesbos, Greetings from Nicephorus, by the will of God Emperor. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Know, O Michael, that we, the Emperor, reposing especial faith in +you our trusted servant, with these letters deliver into your keeping a certain +prisoner of State. This prisoner is none other than Irene, who aforetime was +Empress. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Because of her many wickednesses in the sight of God and man we +by the decree of the People, of the Army, of the Senate and of the high +Officers of State amidst general rejoicing deposed the said Irene, widow of the +Emperor Leo and mother of the late Emperor Constantine, and placed ourselves +upon the throne. The said Irene, at her own request, we consigned to the place +called the Island of Princes, setting her in charge of certain holy monks. +Whilst there, abusing our mercy and confidence, she set on foot plots to murder +our Person and repossess herself of the throne. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now our Councillors with one voice urged that she should be put +to death in punishment of her crimes, but we, being mindful of the teaching of +our Lord and Saviour and of His saying that we should turn the other cheek to +those who smite us, out of our gentle pity have taken another counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Learn now, most excellent Michael the Blind, who once were known +as Olaf Red-Sword, that we hand over to your keeping the person of Irene, +aforetime Empress, charging you to deal with her as she dealt with you and as +she dealt also with the late Emperor Constantine, the son of her body, for thus +shall her evil plottings be brought to naught.’” +</p> + +<p> +“By God’s Name, he means that I must blind her!” I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Making no answer, Martina went on with the letter—— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Should the said Irene survive her just punishment, we command you +to make sufficient provision for her daily wants, but no more, and to charge +the same against the sum due Us from the revenues of Lesbos. Should she die at +once, or at any future time, give to her decent private burial, and report to +Us the circumstances of her death duly attested. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Keep these Presents secret and do not act upon them until the +ship which brings them and the prisoner to you has sailed for Byzantium, which +it is ordered to do as soon as it has been revictualled. On your head be it to +carry out these our commands, for which you shall answer with your life and +those of your wife and children. This signed and sealed at our Court of +Byzantium on the twelfth day of the sixth month of the first year of our reign, +and countersigned by the high officers whose names appear +beneath.’” +</p> + +<p> +Such was this awful letter that, having read, Martina thrust into my hand as +though she would be rid of it. Then followed a silence, which at length Martina +broke. +</p> + +<p> +“Your commands, Excellency,” she said in a dry voice. “I +understand that the—the—prisoner is in the ante-room in charge of +the Captain Jodd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let her remain in the charge of the Captain Jodd,” I +exclaimed angrily, “and in your charge, Martina, who are accustomed to +attending upon her, and know that you are both answerable for her safety with +your lives. Send the captain of the ship to me and prepare a discharge for him. +I will not see this woman till he has sailed, since until then I am commanded +to keep all secret. Send also the head officer of the guard.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Three days went by. The Imperial ship had sailed, taking with her my formal +acknowledgment of the Emperor’s letter, and the time had come when once +more I must meet Irene face to face. +</p> + +<p> +I sat in the audience chamber of my Great House, and there was present with me +only Jodd, my lieutenant in office. Being blind, I dared not receive a +desperate woman alone, fearing lest she might stab me or do herself some +mischief. At the door of the chamber Jodd took her from the guards, whom he +bade remain within call, and conducted her to where I sat. He told me +afterwards that she was dressed as a nun, a white hood half hiding her still +beautiful face and a silver crucifix hanging upon her breast. +</p> + +<p> +As I heard her come I rose and bowed to her, and my first words to her were to +pray her to be seated. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” she answered in that rich, well-remembered voice of hers, +“a prisoner stands before the judge. I greet you, General Olaf, I pray +your pardon—Michael—after long years of separation. You have +changed but little, and I rejoice to see that your health is good and that the +rank and prosperity which I gave have not been taken from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I greet you, Madam,” (almost had I said Augusta), I answered, then +continued hurriedly: “Lady Irene, I have received certain commands +concerning you from the Emperor Nicephorus which it is best that you should +hear, so that you shall hold me quit of blame in aught that it may be my duty +to inflict upon you. Read them, Captain Jodd. Nay, I forgot, you cannot. Give +the copy of the letter to the Lady Irene; the original she can see afterwards +if she wills.” +</p> + +<p> +So the paper was given to her by Jodd, and she read it aloud, weighing each +word carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a dog is this!” she said when it was finished. +“Know, Olaf, that of my free will I surrendered the throne to him, yes, +and all my private treasure, he swearing upon the Gospels that I should live in +peace and honour till my life’s end. And now he sends me to you to be +blinded and then done to death, for that is what he means. Oh! may God avenge +me upon him! May he become a byword and a scorn, and may his own end be even +worse than that which he has prepared for me. May shame wrap his memory as in a +garment, may his bones be dishonoured and his burying-place forgotten. Aye, and +so it shall be.”[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The skull of this Nicephorus is said to have been used as a drinking cup by +his victorious enemy, the King Krum.— Editor. +</p> + +<p> +She paused in her fearful curse, then said in a new voice, that voice in which +she was wont to plead, +</p> + +<p> +“You will not blind me, Olaf. You’ll not take from me my last +blessing, the light of day. Think what it means——” +</p> + +<p> +“The General Olaf should know well enough,” interrupted Jodd, but I +waved him to be silent, and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Madam, how can I do otherwise? It seems to me that my life and +that of my wife and children hang upon this deed. Moreover, why should I do +otherwise now that by God’s justice the wheel has come round at +last?” I added, pointing to the hollows beneath my brows where the eyes +once had been. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Olaf,” she said, “if I harmed you, you know well it was +because I loved you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then God send that no woman ever loves me in such a fashion,” +broke in Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf,” she continued, taking no note of him, “once you went +very near to loving me also, on that night when you would have eaten the +poisoned figs to save my son, the Emperor. At least, you kissed me. If you +forget, I cannot. Olaf, can you blind a woman whom you have kissed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Kissing takes two, and I know that you blinded him,” muttered +Jodd, “for I crucified the brutes you commanded to do the deed to which +they confessed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, I admit that I treated you ill; I admit that I would have killed +you; but, believe me, it was jealousy and naught but jealousy which drove me +on. Almost as soon would I have killed myself; indeed, I thought of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there the matter ended,” said Jodd. “It was Olaf who +walked the Hall of the Pit, not you. We found him on the brink of the +hole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Olaf, after I regained my power——” +</p> + +<p> +“By blinding your own son,” said Jodd, “for which you will +have an account to settle one day.” +</p> + +<p> +“——I dealt well with you. Knowing that you had married my +rival, for I kept myself informed of all you did, still I lifted no hand +against you——” +</p> + +<p> +“What good was a maimed man to you when you were courting the Emperor +Charlemagne?” asked Jodd. +</p> + +<p> +Now at last she turned on him, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“Well is it for you, Barbarian, that if only for a while Fate has reft +power from my hands. Oh! this is the bitterest drop in all my cup, that I who +for a score of years ruled the world must live to suffer the insults of such as +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why not die and have done?” asked the imperturbable Jodd. +“Or, if you lack the courage, why not submit to the decree of the +Emperor, as so many have submitted to your decree, instead of troubling the +general here with prayers for mercy? It would serve as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jodd,” I said, “I command you to be silent. This lady is in +trouble; attack those in power, if you will, not those who have fallen.” +</p> + +<p> +“There speaks the man I loved,” said Irene. “What perverse +fate kept us apart, Olaf? Had you taken what I offered, by now you and I would +have ruled the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, Madam; yet it is right I should say that I do not regret my +choice, although because of it I can no longer—look upon the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know! She of that accursed necklace, which I see you still +wear, came between us and spoiled everything. Now I’m ruined for lack of +you and you are nobody for lack of me, a soldier who will run his petty course +and depart into the universal darkness, leaving never a name behind him. In the +ages to be what man will take count of one of a score of governors of the +little Isle of Lesbos, who might yet have held the earth in the hollow of his +hand and shone a second Cæsar in its annals? Oh! what marplot of a devil rules +our destinies? He who fashioned those golden shells upon your breast, or so I +think. Well, well, it is so and cannot be altered. The Augusta of the Empire of +the East must plead with the man who rejected her, for sight, or rather for her +life. You understand, do you not, Olaf, that letter is a command to you to +murder me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just such a command as you gave to those who blinded your son +Constantine,” muttered Jodd beneath his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what is meant. You are to murder me, and, Olaf, I’m not +fit to die. Great place brings great temptations, and I admit that I have +greatly sinned; I need time upon the earth to make my peace with Heaven, and if +you slay my body now, you will slay my soul as well. Oh! be pitiful! Be +pitiful! Olaf, you cannot kill the woman who has lain upon your breast, it is +against nature. If you did such a thing you’d never sleep again; you +would shudder yourself over the edge of the world! Being what you are, no pomp +or power would ever pay you for the deed. Be true to your own high heart and +spare me. See, I who for so long was the ruler of many kingdoms, kneel to you +and pray you to spare me,” and, casting herself down upon her knees, she +laid her head upon my feet and wept. +</p> + +<p> +All that scene comes back to me with a strange and terrible vividness, although +I had no sight to aid me in its details, save the sight of my soul. I remember +that the wonder and horror of it pierced me through and through; the stab of +the dagger in my eyes was not more sharp. There was I, Olaf, a mere gentleman +of the North, seated in my chair of office, and there before me, her mighty +head bowed upon my feet, knelt the Empress of the Earth pleading for her life. +In truth all history could show few stranger scenes. What was I to do? If I +yielded to her piteous prayers, it was probable that my own life and those of +my wife and children would pay the price. Yet how could I clap my hands in +their Eastern fashion and summon the executioners to pierce those streaming +eyes of hers? “Rise, Augusta,” I said, for in this extremity of her +shame I gave her back her title, “and tell me, you who are accustomed to +such matters, how I can spare you who deal with the lives of others as well as +with my own?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you for that name,” she said as she struggled to her feet. +“I’ve heard it shouted by tens of thousands in the circus and from +the throats of armies, but never yet has it been half so sweet to me as now +from lips that have no need to utter it. In times bygone I’d have paid +you for this service with a province, but now Irene is so poor that, like some +humble beggar-woman, she can but give her thanks. Still, repeat it no more, for +next time it will sound bitter. What did you ask? How you could save me, was it +not? Well, the thing seems simple. In all that letter from Nicephorus there is +no direct command that you should blind me. The fellow says that you are to +treat me as I treated you, and as I treated Constantine, the +Emperor—because I must. Well, I imprisoned both of you. Imprison me and +you fulfil the mandate. He says that if I die you are to report it, which shows +that he does not mean that I <i>must</i> die. Oh! the road of escape is easy, +should you desire to travel it. If you do not so desire, then, Olaf, I pray you +as a last favour not to hand me over to common men. I see that by your side +still hangs that red sword of yours wherewith once I threatened you when you +refused me at Byzantium. Draw it, Olaf, and this time I’ll guide its edge +across my throat. So you will please Nicephorus and win the rewards that Irene +can no longer give. Baptised in her blood, what earthly glory is there to which +you might not yet attain, you who had dared to lay hands upon the anointed +flesh that even her worst foes have feared to touch lest God’s sudden +curse should strike them dead?” +</p> + +<p> +So she went on pouring out words with the strange eloquence that she could +command at times, till I grew bewildered. She who had lived in light and +luxury, who had loved the vision of all bright and glorious things, was +pleading for her sight to the man whom she had robbed of sight that he might +never more behold the young beauty of her rival. She who had imagination to +know the greatness of her sins was pleading to be spared the death she dared +not face. She was pleading to me, who for years had been her faithful soldier, +the captain of her own guard, sworn to protect her from the slightest ill, me +upon whom, for a while, it had pleased her to lavish the wild passion of her +imperial heart, who once had almost loved—who, indeed, had kissed her on +the lips. +</p> + +<p> +My orders were definite. I was commanded to blind this woman and to kill her in +the blinding, which, in truth, I who had power of life and death, I who ruled +over this island like a king by virtue of the royal commission, could do +without question asked. If I <i>failed</i> to fulfil those orders, I must be +prepared to pay the price, as if I did fulfil them I might expect a high +reward, probably the governorship of some great province of the Empire. This +was no common prisoner. She was the ex-Empress, a mighty woman to whom tens of +thousands or perhaps millions still looked for help and leadership. It was +necessary to those who had seized her place and power that she should be +rendered incapable of rule. It was desirable to them that she should die. Yet +so delicately were the scales poised between them and the adherents of Irene, +among whom were numbered all the great princes of the Church, that they +themselves did not dare to inflict mutilation or death upon her. They feared +lest it should be followed by a storm of wrath that would shake Nicephorus from +his throne and involve them in his ruin. +</p> + +<p> +So they sent her to me, the governor of a distant dependency, the man whom they +knew she had wickedly wronged, being certain that her tongue, which it was said +could turn the hearts of all men, would never soften mine. Then afterwards they +would declare that the warrant was a forgery, that I had but wreaked a private +vengeance upon an ancient foe, and, to still the scandal, degrade me from my +governorship—into some place of greater power and profit. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! while Irene pleaded before me and, heedless of the presence of Jodd, even +cast her arms about me and laid her head upon my breast, all these things +passed through my mind. In its scales I weighed the matter out, and the beam +rose against me, for I knew well that if I spared Irene I condemned myself and +those who were more to me than myself, my wife, my children, and all the +Northmen who clung to me, and who would not see me die without blow struck. I +understood it all, and, understanding, of a sudden made up my mind—to +spare Irene. Come what might, I would be no butcher; I would follow my heart +whithersoever it might lead me. +</p> + +<p> +“Cease, Madam,” I said. “I have decided. Jodd, bid the +messenger summon hither Heliodore and Martina, my wife and yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Irene, “if these women are to be called in +counsel on my case all is finished, seeing that both of them love you and are +my enemies. Moreover, I have some pride left. To you I could plead, but not to +them, though they blind me with their bodkins after they have stabbed me with +their tongues. Excellency, a last boon! Call in your guard and kill me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madam, I said that I had decided, and all the women in the world will +not change my mind in this way or in that. Jodd, do my bidding.” +</p> + +<p> +Jodd struck a bell, once only, which was the signal for the messenger. He came +and received his orders. Then followed a pause, since Heliodore and Martina +were in a place close by and must be sent for. During this time Irene began to +talk to me of sundry general matters. She compared the view that might be seen +from this house in Lesbos to that from the terrace of her palace on the +Bosphorus, and described its differences to me. She asked me as to the Caliph +Harun-al-Rashid, whom she understood I had seen, inquiring as to the estimate I +had formed of his character. Lastly, with a laugh, she dwelt upon the strange +vicissitudes of life. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at me,” she said. “I began my days as the daughter of a +Greek gentleman, with no dower save my wit and beauty. Then I rose to be a +ruler of the world, and knew all that it has to give of pomp and power. Nations +trembled at my nod; at my smile men grew great; at my frown they faded into +nothingness. Save you, Olaf, none ever really conquered me, until I fell in the +appointed hour. And now! Of this splendour there is left but a nun’s +robe; of this countless wealth but one silver crucifix; of this +power—naught.” +</p> + +<p> +So she spoke on, still not knowing to what decision I had come; whether she +were to be blinded or to live or die. To myself I thought it was a proof of her +greatness that she could thus turn her mind to such things while Fate hovered +over her, its hand upon a sword. But it may be that she thought thus to impress +me and to enmesh me in memories which would tie my hands, or even from the +character of my answers to draw some augury of her doom. +</p> + +<p> +The women came at length. Heliodore entered first, and to her Irene bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, Lady of Egypt,” she said. “Ah! had you taken my +counsel in the past, that title might have been yours in very truth, and there +you and your husband could have founded a new line of kings independent of the +Empire which totters to its fall.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember no such counsel, Madam,” said Heliodore. “It +seems to me that the course I took was right and one pleasing to God, since it +has given me my husband for myself, although, it is true, wickedly robbed of +his eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“For yourself! Can you say so while Martina is always at his side?” +she asked in a musing voice. “Well, it may be, for in this world strange +things happen.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, and I heard both Heliodore and Jodd move as though in anger, for +her bitter shaft had gone home. Then she went on softly, +</p> + +<p> +“Lady, may I tell you that, in my judgment, your beauty is even greater +than it was, though it is true it has grown from bud to flower. Few bear their +years and a mother’s burdens so lightly in these hot lands.” +</p> + +<p> +Heliodore did not answer, for at that moment Martina entered. Seeing Irene for +the first time, she forgot everything that had passed and curtseyed to her in +the old fashion, murmuring the familiar words, +</p> + +<p> +“Thy servant greets thee, Augusta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, use not that title, Martina, to one who has done with the world and +its vanities. Call me ‘Mother’ if you will, for that is the only +name of honour by which those of my religious order may be known. In truth, as +your mother in God, I welcome you and bless you, from my heart forgiving you +those ills which you have worked against me, being, as I know well, driven by a +love that is greater than any woman bears to woman. But that eating fire of +passion scorned is the heritage of both of us, and of it we will talk +afterwards. I must not waste the time of the General Olaf, whom destiny, in +return for many griefs, has appointed to be my jailer. Oh! Olaf,” she +added with a little laugh, “some foresight of the future must have taught +me to train you for the post. Let us then be silent, ladies, and listen to the +judgment which this jailer of mine is about to pass upon me. Do you know it is +no less than whether these eyes of mine, which you were wont to praise, +Martina, which in his lighter moments even this stern Olaf was wont to praise, +should be torn from beneath my brow, and if so, whether it should be done in +such a fashion that I die of the deed? That and no less is the matter which his +lips must settle. Now speak, Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” I said slowly, “to the best of my wit I have +considered the letter sent to me under the seal and sign of the Emperor +Nicephorus. Although it might be so interpreted by some, I cannot find in that +letter any direct command that I should cause you to be blinded, but only one +that I should keep you under strict guard, giving you such things as are +necessary to your sustenance. This then I shall do, and by the first ship make +report of my action to the Emperor at Byzantium.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, when she heard these words, at length the proud spirit of Irene broke. +</p> + +<p> +“God reward you, for I cannot, Olaf,” she cried. “God reward +you, saint among men, who can pay back cruel injuries with the gentlest +mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, she burst into tears and fell senseless to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Martina ran to aid her, but Heliodore turned to me and said in her tender +voice, +</p> + +<p> +“This is worthy of you, Olaf, and I would not have you do otherwise. Yet, +husband, I fear that this pity of yours has signed the death-warrant of us +all.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +So it proved to be, though, as it chanced, that warrant was never executed. I +made my report to Byzantium, and in course of time the answer came in a letter +from the Emperor. This letter coldly approved of my act in set and formal +phrases. It added that the truth had been conveyed publicly to those slanderers +of the Emperor who announced that he had caused Irene to be first blinded and +then put to death in Lesbos, whereby their evil tongues had been silenced. +</p> + +<p> +Then came this pregnant sentence: +</p> + +<p> +“We command you, with your wife and children and your lieutenant, the +Captain Jodd, with his wife and children, to lay down your offices and report +yourselves with all speed to Us at our Court of Byzantium, that we may confer +with you on certain matters. If it is not convenient to you, or you can find no +fitting ship in which to sail at once, know that within a month of your receipt +of this letter our fleet will call at Lesbos and bring you and the others +herein mentioned to our Presence.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a death sentence,” said Martina, when she had finished +reading out this passage. “I have seen several such sent in my day, when +I was Irene’s confidential lady. It is the common form. We shall never +reach Byzantium, Olaf, or, if we do, we shall never leave it more.” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded, for I knew that this was so. Then, at some whispered word from +Martina, Heliodore spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Husband,” she said, “foreseeing this issue, Martina, Jodd, +and most of the Northmen and I have made a plan which we now submit to you, +praying that for our sakes, if not for yours, you will not thrust it aside. We +have bought two good ships, armed them and furnished them with all things +needful. Moreover, during the past two months we have sold much of our +property, turning it into gold. This is our plan—that we pretend to obey +the order of the Emperor, but instead of heading for Byzantium, sail away north +to the land in which you were born, where, having rank and possessions, you may +still become a mighty chief. If we go at once we shall miss the Imperial fleet, +and I think that none will follow us.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I bowed my head for a while and thought. Then I lifted it and said, +</p> + +<p> +“So let it be. No other road is open.” +</p> + +<p> +For my own sake I would not have stirred an inch. I would have gone to the +Court of the Emperor at Byzantium and there argued out the thing in a +gambler’s spirit, prepared to win or prepared to lose. There at least I +should have had all the image-worshippers who adored Irene, that is, the full +half of the Empire, upon my side, and if I perished, I should perish as a +saint. But a wife and children are the most terrible gifts of God, if the most +blessed, for they turn our hearts to water. So, for the first time in my life, +I grew afraid, and, for their sakes, fled. +</p> + +<p> +As might be expected, having Martina’s brains, Heliodore’s love, +and the Northmen’s loyalty at the back of it, our plan went well. A +letter was sent to the Emperor saying that we would await the arrival of the +fleet to obey his commands, having some private matters to arrange before we +left Lesbos. Then, on a certain evening, we embarked on two great ships, about +four hundred souls in all. +</p> + +<p> +Before we went I bade farewell to Irene. She was seated outside the house that +had been given to her, employed in spinning, for it was her fancy to earn the +bread she ate by the labour of her hands. Round her were playing Jodd’s +children and my own, whom, in order to escape suspicion, we had sent thither +till the time came for us to embark, since the people of Lesbos only knew of +our scheme by rumour. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither do you go, Olaf?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Back to the North, whence I came, Madam,” I answered, “to +save the lives of these,” and I waved my hand towards the children. +“If I bide here all must die. We have been sent for to Byzantium, as I +think <i>you</i> were wont to send for officers who had ceased to please +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand, Olaf; moreover, I know it is I who have brought this +trouble upon you because you spared me, whom it was meant that you should kill. +Also I know, through friends of mine, that henceforth, for reasons of policy, +my little end of life is safe, and perhaps with it my sight. All this I owe to +you, though now at times I regret that I asked the boon. From the lot of an +Empress to that of a spinning-wife is a great change, and one which I find it +hard to bear. Still, I have my peace to make with God, and towards that peace +I strive. Yet will you not take me with you, Olaf? I should like to found a +nunnery in that cold North of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Augusta. I have done my best by you, and now you must guard +yourself. We part for ever. I go hence to finish where I began. My birthplace +calls me.” +</p> + +<p> +“For ever is a long word, Olaf. Are you sure that we part for ever? +Perchance we shall meet again in death or in other lives. Such, at least, was +the belief of some of the wisest of my people before we became Christian, and +mayhap the Christians do not know everything, since the world had learnt much +before they came. I hope that it may be so, Olaf, for I owe you a great debt +and would repay it to you full measure, pressed down and running over. +Farewell. Take with you the blessing of a sinful and a broken heart,” +and, rising, she kissed me on the brow. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Here ends the story of this life of mine as Olaf Red-Sword, since of it I can +recover no more. The darkness drops. Of what befell me and the others after my +parting with Irene I know nothing or very little. Doubtless we sailed away +north, and, I think, came safely to Aar, since I have faint visions of Iduna +the Fair grown old, but still unwed, for the stain of Steinar’s blood, as +it were, still marked her brow in all men’s eyes; and even of Freydisa, +white-haired and noble-looking. How did we meet and how did we separate at +last, I wonder? And what were the fates of Heliodore and of our children; of +Martina and of Jodd? Also, was the prophecy of Odin, spoken through the lips of +Freydisa in the temple at Aar, that he and his fellow gods, or demons, would +prevail against my flesh and that of those who clung to me, fulfilled at last +in the fires of martyrdom for the Faith, as his promise of my happiness was +fulfilled? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot tell. I cannot tell. Darkness entombs us all and history is dumb. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +At Aar there are many graves! Standing among them, not so long ago, much of +this history came back to me. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WANDERER’S NECKLACE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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