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Title: The Wanderer's Necklace

Author:  H. Rider Haggard

Release Date: February, 2002  [Etext #3097]
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Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz
and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com





THE WANDERER'S NECKLACE

by H. Rider Haggard




First Published 1914.




                              DEDICATION

  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,
                                               H. Rider Haggard.
  To Sir Edgar Vincent, K.C.M.G.

  Ditchingham,
  November, 1913.



                          NOTE BY THE EDITOR

  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.

  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.

  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

                                                         The Editor.





                       THE WANDERER'S NECKLACE




                                BOOK I

                                 AAR



                              CHAPTER I

                        THE BETROTHAL OF OLAF

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.

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.

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.

That is the only scene which returns to me of my infancy.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Olaf," said my father, "would you like to marry Iduna the Fair?"

"Like to marry Iduna?" I gasped. "Aye, more than to be High King of
Denmark, for she is no woman, but a goddess."

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.

"He's but a second son," said Athalbrand.

"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.

"He's no warrior, but a skald," objected Athalbrand again; "a silly
half-man who makes songs and plays upon the harp."

"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?"

"He is thin and weedy," objected Athalbrand, a saying that made my
mother angry.

"Nay, lord Athalbrand," she said; "he is tall and straight as a dart,
and will yet be the handsomest man in these parts."

"Every duck thinks it has hatched out a swan," grumbled Athalbrand,
while with my eyes I implored my mother to be silent.

Then he thought for awhile, pulling at his long forked beard, and said
at last:

"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."

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.

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:

"My father tells me you wish to speak with me," and she laughed a
little softly and held me with her beautiful eyes.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

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 /Swan/. 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.

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.



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.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

"Whither now, young Olaf?" she asked me. "Has Iduna come here that you
run so fast?"

"No," I answered, "but a white bear has."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

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.

"What do you mean by your talk about Iduna?" I asked. "Iduna is my
betrothed, and I'll suffer no ill speech of her."

"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.

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.

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.

"The bear is dead!" exclaimed Ragnar. "Odin's curse be on that club-
footed fool who gave us this cold ride for nothing."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Steinar doubtfully. "Don't you think that it
is dead, Olaf?"

"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."

"Olaf sees farther when he seems asleep than some of us do when we are
awake," answered Steinar hotly.

"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?"

Then I answered, "Why, of course, a bear is dead; see its skull, also
pieces of its hide?"

"There!" exclaimed Ragnar. "Our family prophet has settled the matter.
Let us go home."

"Olaf said that /a/ bear was dead," answered Steinar, hesitating.

Ragnar, who had already swung himself round in his quick fashion,
spoke back over his shoulder:

"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."

"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?"

"How do you know that?" asked Ragnar.

"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."

"Then why in Odin's name did you not say so before?" exclaimed Ragnar
angrily.

Now I was ashamed to confess that I had been dreaming, so I answered
at hazard:

"Because I wished to look upon the sea and the floating ice. See what
wondrous colours they take in this light!"

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:

"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."

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.

"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."

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.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

At this moment I held up my hand, and they stopped talking.



                              CHAPTER II

                       THE SLAYING OF THE BEAR

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.

"I see nothing," said Ragnar.

"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."

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."

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.

"A mighty beast," said Ragnar. "Never have I seen its like."

"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."

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:

"Aye, go home, it is wisest; but I go on for I have never yet seen one
of these white ice-bears alive."

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"He's sped!" gasped Ragnar.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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:

"Dead!"

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."

Next he went to Steinar and once again exclaimed, "Dead!"

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.

"Are you much hurt?" asked Ragnar.

"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?"

"Supping with Odin," answered Ragnar and pointed to me.

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.

"Did he die to save me?" asked Steinar.

"Aye," answered Ragnar, "and never did man walk that bridge in better
fashion. You were right. Would that I had not mocked him."

"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."

"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."

Thus ended the fight with the great white bear.



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.

"As my heart foretold, so it is," she said. "Bring him in," then
turned and ran to the house.

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.

"Is he dead?" asked Thorvald, my father, who had come home that night;
"and if so, how?"

"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."

"A mighty deed," muttered my father. "Well, at least he comes home in
honour."

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.

Presently she rose, and, turning, said slowly:

"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."

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.

"First the cure," she said, thrusting it away with her foot.
"Moreover, when I work for love I take no pay."

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.



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.

"His mind is gone," said my mother, and wept.

"Nay," answered Freydisa, "he does but return from a land where they
speak another tongue. Thorvald, bring hither the bear-skin."

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:

"Did the great beast kill Steinar?"

"No," answered my mother, who sat by me. "Steinar was sore hurt, but
escaped and now is well again."

"Let me see him with my own eyes," I said.

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.

He came and kissed me on the brow, saying:

"Aye, thanks to you, Olaf, I live to be your brother and your thrall
till the end."

"My brother always, not my thrall," I muttered, for I was growing
tired. Then I went to sleep again.

Three days later, when my strength began to return, I sent for Steinar
and said:

"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."

"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."

"Be careful that you do not find her too beautiful," broke in
Freydisa, who, as ever, was at my side.

"How can I if she is for Olaf?" answered Steinar, smiling, as he left
the place to make ready for his journey to Lesso.

"What did you mean by those words, Freydisa?" I asked when he was
gone.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"Freydisa," I said when I had swallowed the broth, "why do folk call
you a witch?"

"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."

"Why are you wiser, and why have you not married, Freydisa?"

"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."

"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?"

"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."

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.



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.

"Steinar should be back by now," I said to him. "I trust that he has
come by no ill."

"Oh no," answered my father carelessly. "For seven days the wind has
been high, and doubtless Athalbrand fears to let him sail from Lesso."

"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."

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.

"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.

"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"

"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."

"Wife," called my father, "come hither. Here are men who would know
the story of Steinar, and say that they mean him good."

So my mother came, and the men bowed to her.

"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?"

"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."

"That is the day when the bear nearly killed Steinar," I interrupted.

"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.

"Is the heritage great?" asked my father.

"Aye, very great, Lord. In all Jutland there was no richer man than
Hakon."

"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."

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.

One glance was enough for me. Then I sprang up, crying:

"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.

"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.

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:

"Not before all these folk, Olaf."

"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.

"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."

"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."

"Nay, nay," she said. "I came of myself. But my father waits you,
Olaf."

So I went to where the lord Athalbrand Fork-beard was dismounting, and
greeted him, lifting my cap.

"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."

"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."

"How's that, Lord?" asked Steinar absently, for he was looking at
Iduna.

"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."

"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."

"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.

"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."

"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.

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:

"This wind is over cold for you, Olaf. Nay, trouble not about Iduna.
Steinar, Lord of Agger, will care for her, I think."

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.

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.

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.

"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."

Then his head fell forward on the table and he sank to sleep.



                             CHAPTER III

                       THE WANDERER'S NECKLACE

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"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."

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.

"Are you mad, Steinar?" he asked. "that you have sent them away with
such an answer? Why did you not consult me first?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

"Then it is a mad fashion," grumbled my father, and walked away.



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.

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.

"Nay, happily for us, Iduna," I said.

"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."

"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."

Iduna looked at me with her steady blue eyes.

"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."

"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."

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.

When we reached the hall we met Steinar, who was lingering near the
door. He ran forward and helped Iduna to dismount, then said:

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

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.

"Steinar and Iduna do not return. I am afraid for them," I said at
last to Freydisa.

"Then why do you not go to seek them?" she asked with a little laugh.

"I think I will," I said.

"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."

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.

"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."

"No, indeed," I answered, "for now I am as strong again as ever I
was."

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:

"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."

"Is it so?" I answered. "Surely Steinar would have known this road
even in the dark. But what matter, since I have found you?"

"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?"

"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."

Then she went forward a few steps and began to mutter to herself.

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.

"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."

Steinar and Iduna answered, "No," but I, who did see something, said:

"Look yonder among the shadows. Mayhap it is a wolf stirring. Nay, it
is a man. Look, Iduna."

"I look and find nothing," she answered.

"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."

"You dream, Olaf," said Steinar. "If you do not dream, tell us of the
likeness of this spirit."

"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."

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:

"Say, Olaf, does the man wear a necklace? I see a necklace hanging in
the air above the mount, but naught else."

"Yes, Iduna, he wears a necklace above his mail. How does it appear to
you?"

"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."

"That is what I see also," I said, as indeed I did. "There! All is
gone."

Freydisa returned and there was a strange smile on her dark face, for
she had heard all our talk.

"Who sleeps in that mound, Freydisa?" asked Iduna.

"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."

"Is the necklace yet in the mound?" asked Iduna eagerly.

"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."

"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."

"Did you hear what Freydisa said?" I asked. "That he who wrought this
sacrilege would bring upon himself evil and death?"

"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."

"That means you will not marry me, Iduna?"

"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."

Now when I heard these words a sudden rage seized me. Was I to be
taunted thus by the fair woman whom I loved?

"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."



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.

"Here is work for a month," I said doubtfully, looking up at the great
mass of the mound.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

Then, throwing her arms about my neck, she drew me to her and kissed
me on the brow.

"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."

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.

"It is the door-stone," said Freydisa. "Dig round it."

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.

"Now," she said, "if you are not afraid, we will enter."

"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."

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.

"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.

Presently she called back, saying:

"Come; all is quiet here, as it should be in such a place."

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.

"The coffin in which the Wanderer lies and the gods he worshipped,"
said Freydisa.

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.

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.

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.

"Strange gods!" I muttered.

"Aye," answered Freydisa, "yet maybe true ones to those who worship
them. But we will talk of these later; now for their servant."

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.

"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."

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.

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.

"Does he call anyone to your mind?" asked Freydisa.

"Yes, I think so, a little," I replied. "Who is it, now? Oh! I know,
my mother."

"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."

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.

"Take it for your Iduna," said Freydisa, "since it is for her sake
that we break in upon this great man's rest."

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.

"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."

"There's his armour," I said. "I'd have that armour; it is wonderful."

"Then stop and get it by yourself," she answered, "for my lamp dies."

"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.

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.

"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?"

"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."



                              CHAPTER IV

                       IDUNA WEARS THE NECKLACE

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

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,

"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."

After this for a while they wept in each other's arms, for their
hearts were broken.

"Give me some token," he murmured; "let me wear something that you
have worn until my death."

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.

"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."

"What chance is there that I shall return from my northern home, if
ever I win so far, back to this southern land?"

"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."

"How long must I wait before we meet again?" he asked.

"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!"

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.



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.

"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.

"Digging in the Wanderer's grave, brother, as Iduna challenged me to
do."

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.

"Aye," I replied. "I found the Wanderer, a very noble-looking man,"
and I began to describe him.

"Peace to this dead Wanderer," broke in Iduna. "Did you find the
necklace?"

"Yes, I found the necklace. Here it is!" And I laid the splendid thing
upon the board.

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.

"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.

Then she seized the necklace and fastened it round her throat.

"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."

Here the dark-faced Freydisa looked up at me, then dropped her eyes
again, and stood listening.

"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."

Here again Freydisa looked up, but Steinar looked down.

"Did you find aught else?" asked Ragnar, interrupting.

"Aye, brother, this!" and from under my cloak I produced the
Wanderer's sword.

"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."

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.

"Freydisa has them," I answered. "Show them the Wanderer's gods,
Freydisa."

"So Freydisa was with you, was she?" said Iduna.

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.

Afterwards Freydisa asked me what was the dream of which I had spoken,
and I told it to her, every word.

"It is a strange story," said Freydisa. "What do you make of it,
Olaf?"

"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."

"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?"

"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.

"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?"

"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."

"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."



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.

She listened to my story, then said briefly,

"Let be. Things will go as they are fated. You are no madder than the
rest of men. I can say no more."

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.

"You will not fail me in this, Steinar?" I said, clasping his hand.

He tried to answer something, but the words seemed to choke in his
throat and he turned away, leaving them unspoken.

"Why," I exclaimed, "one might think you were going to be married, not
I."

"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?"

"Would that I were more worthy of your love," I answered, smiling, "as
in years to come I hope to show myself."

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.

"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.

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.

"They should be here," he said. "The hour is over past."

"Doubtless the fair bride has been long in decking herself," answered
my father, looking at the sun. "She will come presently."

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,

"At last! Here comes the herald!"

Another answered: "For a messenger of love he rides slowly and sadly."
And a silence fell on all that heard him.

The man, a stranger to us, arrived and said:

"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."

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.

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.

"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."

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.

So soon as they were gone Freydisa came to me, bringing food and
drink.

"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."

"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!"

"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."

"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."

"I cannot forget love, and I do not wish for vengeance, especially
against Steinar, who is my foster-brother," I answered wearily.



                              CHAPTER V

                        THE BATTLE ON THE SEA

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

"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."

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.

"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."

'No man shall name me that," I said, flushing, "and least of all
Ragnar."

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.

"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!"

"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."

"Begone!" thundered my father, "lest presently you should stay here
dead."

So they went.



That day my heart was very heavy, and I sought Freydisa to take
counsel with her.

"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."

"Then come to learn it, Olaf, for what is known need no more be
feared."

"I am not so sure of that," I said. "But how can the future be
learned?"

"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."

"Aye, I dare. I should like to hear the god speak, true words or
false."

"Then come and hear them, Olaf."

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.

"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.

Next came the answer in the voice of Freydisa.

"I, your virgin, seek to know the fate of him who stands by the altar,
one whom I love."

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.

"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."

The voice died away, and was followed by a silence so deep that at
length I could bear it no more.

"Ask of the war," I said, "and of what shall happen."

"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."

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.

"What has chanced?" asked Freydisa when we stood beneath the light of
the friendly stars. "I know nothing; my mind is a blackness."

I told her word for word. When I had finished she said,

"Give me the Wanderer's sword."

I gave it to her, and she held it against the sky by the naked blade.

"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.



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.

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,

"Be of good cheer, for you will return, whoever is left behind."

"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!"

"Too late to talk of that now," said Freydisa, and we parted.

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.

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.

"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
"/Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!/" broke upon the silence of
the night and the battle had begun.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.



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.

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.

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.

"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.

Steinar stared at me and asked in a thick voice:

"Was it with you, Olaf, that I fell into the sea?"

"Even so, Steinar."

"I knew it not in the darkness, Olaf. If I had known, never would I
have lifted sword against you."

"What did that matter, Steinar, when you had already pierced my heart,
though not with a sword?"

At these words Steinar moaned aloud, then said:

"For the second time you have saved my life."

"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."

"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.

But I, who was watching, snatched it away, then gave an order.

"Bind this man and keep him safe. Also bring him drink and a cloak to
cover him."

"Best kill the dog," grumbled the captain, to whom I spoke.

"I kill that one who lays a finger on him," I replied.

Someone whispered into the captain's ear, whereon he nodded and
laughed savagely.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "I am a thickhead. I had forgotten Odin and his
sacrifice. Yes, yes, we'll keep the traitor safe."

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.

I also drank of the ale and drew a cloak about me, for the air was
keen. Then I said,

"Let us go to the other ships and see what has chanced there."

They got out the oars and rowed to Ragnar's vessel, where we saw men
stirring.

"How went it with you?" I asked of one who stood upon the prow.

"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.

"Where is Ragnar?" I asked.

"Come on board and see," answered the man.

A plank was thrust out and I ran across it, fear gripping at my heart.
Resting against the mast sat Ragnar, dying.

"Good morrow to you, Olaf," he gasped. "I am glad you live, that there
may be one left to sit at Aar."

"What do you mean, my brother?"

"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."

"No, Ragnar, I have taken Steinar captive."

"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, Seiner 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."

Then from both ships rose the cry of

"We swear! Fear not, Ragnar, we swear."

"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."

Then he burst into a wild war song of blood and vengeance, and so
singing sank down and died.



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.

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.

"I see you, my son Olaf," she said, "but where are your father and
brother?"

"Yonder, mother," I answered, pointing to the ships, and could say no
more.

"Then why do they tarry, my son?"

"Alas! mother, because they sleep and will never wake again."

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.

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.

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.

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.

But Steinar was carried to the temple of Odin at Aar, and there kept
in the prison of the temple.



                              CHAPTER VI

                      HOW OLAF FOUGHT WITH ODIN

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"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."

"And would you save me if you could?"

"Aye, Steinar. Why not? Surely you must suffer enough with so much
blood and evil on your hands."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

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.



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.

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.

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:

"Odin takes; who dare deny?"

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.

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:

"I dare deny!"

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.

"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."

None stirred; even the women drooped their heads and were silent.

"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."

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:

"Aye, let him go free. There has been enough of death through this
Iduna."

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:

"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."

When they heard this, the people groaned and shouted out:

"Let Steinar die! Kill him! Kill him that Odin may be fed!"

"Aye," answered Leif, "Steinar shall die. See, he dies!"

Then, with a leap like to that of a hungry wolf, he sprang upon the
bound man and slew him.

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.

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.

I strode past Leif and the altar to where the statue of Odin sat
within the temple.

"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?"

They answered "Aye."

"Then you believe that he can revenge himself upon one who rejects and
affronts him?"

"Aye," they answered again.

"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?"

"Aye," they answered, yet scarcely understanding what they said.

"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!"

Then I folded my arms and stared at the statue's stony eyes, which
stared back at me, while all the people gasped.

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.

"Now," I cried, "you have had your turn, and mine comes."

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.

"Now, good folk," I cried, "what say you of your god Odin?"

They answered nothing, for all of them were in flight. Yes, even Leif
fled, cursing me over his shoulder as he went.

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.

"You are a great man, Olaf," she said; "but how will it end?"

"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."

"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.

"I have killed the god," I answered, pointing to the crushed viper.

"Not quite, Olaf, for, see, its tail still moves."

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

"Have you come to save him?" I asked. "If so, it is too late. Woman,
behold your work."

She shook her beautiful head and answered, almost in a whisper:

"Nay, Olaf, I am come to beg a boon of you: that you will slay me,
here and now."

"Am I a butcher--or a priest?" I muttered.

"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."

Still I shook my head, and once more she spoke:

"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.'

"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?"

"Steinar's tale was otherwise, Iduna. He said that you went first, and
that he followed."

"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."

"Aye, Iduna, whatever else is false, this is true, that Hela had her
fill."

"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."

"Aye, I know that," I said, "because Steinar told me so."

"And, save for that one kiss, Olaf, I am still the maid whom once you
loved so well."

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?

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.

"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?"

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.

"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."

She loosed her arms from round me, and, lifting them again, unclasped
the Wanderer's necklace from about her breast.

"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."

Then she sank upon the ground, and resting her golden head upon dead
Steinar's breast, she wept.



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.

"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."

"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."



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.




                               BOOK II

                              BYZANTIUM



                              CHAPTER I

                     IRENE, EMPRESS OF THE EARTH

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Augusta!" I said, saluting, for, as Empress, that was her Roman
title, even though she was a Greek.

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"Because of a woman," I answered.

"Ah!" she said, clapping her hands; "I knew it. Tell me of this woman
whom you love."

"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."

"You'd not admit it if you did, Olaf. Was she beautiful, well, say as
I am?"

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.

"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?"

"Iduna was more beautiful than ever you can have been, Augusta," I
replied quietly.

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.

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

"I have heard many things in Byzantium, Augusta, but I pay no
attention to any of them--or, indeed, to little except my duty."

"Now that this, this--what's the girl's name?"

"Iduna the Fair," I said.

"----this Iduna has thrown you over, at which I am sure I do not
wonder, what mistresses have you in Byzantium, Olaf the Dane?"

"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."

"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?"

"I never heard of them, Augusta."

"Are you a Christian?"

"No; I am considering that religion--or rather its followers."

"Are you a pagan, then?"

"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."

"Then what are you?" she said, stamping her foot in exasperation.

"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."

"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."

I shook my head and answered,

"I might have done that long ago, Augusta."

"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?"

"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."

"Give it me. I have taken a fancy to it; it is unusual. Oh! fear not,
you shall receive its value."

"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."

"In truth, Captain Olaf, you anger me with your riddles. What do you
mean about this necklace?"

"I mean, Augusta, that I took it from a very ancient grave----"

"That I can believe, for the jeweller who made it worked in old
Egypt," she interrupted.

"----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."

"So!" she exclaimed, "did I not tell you that, east or west or north
or south, there /is/ some other woman?"

"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."

"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.

"As the Augusta pleases," I answered, saluting.

"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."

"Will you promise not to wear it, Augusta?"

"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?"

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.

"Now have you found the woman of that dream, Olaf?" she asked, turning
herself about in the moonlight.

I shook my head and answered:

"Nay, Augusta; but I fear that /you/ 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."

"Would, then, it were your business either to protect me a little
more, or a little less!" she exclaimed bitterly.

Having uttered this dark saying, she vanished from the terrace still
wearing the string of golden shells.



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.

"The Augusta said that you were to examine this jewel to see that it
has not been changed."

"I never suggested that the Augusta was a thief," I replied,
"therefore it is unnecessary."

"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."

"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?"

"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."[*]

[*] 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.

Then, before I could answer her, she was gone.



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.

"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?"

"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 Csar Nicephorus to be blinded,
and the tongues of the two other Csars and of their two brothers, the
/Nobilissimi/, to be slit."

"Do you think well of such a deed, Olaf?"

"Augusta," I answered, "in this city I make it my business not to
think, for if I did I should certainly go mad."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

Now Irene sprang from her seat and clapped her hands for joy.

"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."

I saluted and turned to go, when Irene called me back.

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.

Irene lifted her head, and I saw that her fine eyes were filled with
tears.

"Olaf," she said, "I am in much trouble, and I know not where to find
a friend."

I smiled and answered:

"Need an Empress seek far for friends?"

"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."

"I have heard as much, Augusta," I said.

"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."

"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."

"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."

"Then why do you not marry again and beget others, who might be no
fools, Augusta?" I asked bluntly.

"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."

"By the will of God?" I repeated.

"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!"

"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?"

"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?"

"Love has its miseries also, Augusta. That I know, for once I loved."

"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."

"Then you must keep your ambition, Augusta, since in this world you'll
find nothing perfect."

"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?"

"I am your honest servant, Augusta, and I think that such a one is the
best of friends."

"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."

"I do not understand," I answered.

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"Aye, Augusta, to the last drop of my blood, as is my duty. Do I not
take your pay?"

"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.

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,

"The ambassadors of the Persians wait upon you, Augusta, as you
appointed at this hour."



                              CHAPTER II

                           THE BLIND CSAR

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.

"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.

"The Augusta shall be obeyed," I answered, saluting. "May the Augusta
return in health and glory and more beautiful than----"

"Iduna the Fair!" she broke in. "Captain, you are dismissed."

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,

"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."

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.

"Have you more of the Augusta's pearls about you, Olaf?" she asked
mockingly, speaking over her shoulder.

"Not I, Martina," I answered, halting beside her.

"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."

"I use no scents, girl, as you know well. Yet it is true that these
rooms reek of them, and they cling to armour."

"Yes, and still more to hair. Well, what gift had my mistress for you
to-day?"

"A commission to guard certain prisoners, Martina."

"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."

"I do not forget a friend, Martina," I answered.

"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."

"Mayhap, Martina, and to speak truth, a grave is the only quiet place
in Constantinople. Mayhap, too, it hides the only real glory."

"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."

"How long do you stay there?" I asked.

"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 Csars and /Nobilissimi/ 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?"

"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."

"You pray in vain, Olaf, for that they will never do. Indeed, I think
that they have cursed me."

Then suddenly she burst into tears, and, turning, went away.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

"For what purpose?" I asked, since it came to my mind that Irene might
have changed her fancy and issued another kind of commission.

"As its General and Governor, Illustrious," he replied.

"Then I will lead," I answered, "do you follow behind me."

Thus that vision ends.



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.

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.

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.

Thus, on the third day, there came a magnificent offering of figs for
the Csars and /Nobilissimi/, 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,

"General, I touch no fruit."

"Indeed," I answered. "That is strange, since I thought that I saw you
eating of it yesterday."

"Aye, General," he replied; "the truth is that I ate too much."

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.

"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."

So I spoke to him about other matters, and all the while watched the
monkey.

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.

"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?"

"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.

"Well, what did you know, man? It would be best to tell me quickly,
who have power here."

"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."

"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."

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.

"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."

"What charge must be entered in the book, General?" asked the officer,
saluting.

"A charge of stealing figs that belonged to the Csar Nicephorus and
his royal brethren," I answered, and looked through the window.

He followed my glance, saw the poor monkey lying dead, and started.

"All shall be done," he said, and the man was led away.

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.

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.

"What is it?" I asked.

"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."

"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."

"You observe well, General."

"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."

"Have no fear," he answered; and went about his business with the dead
monkey.

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.

Truly it was a sad sight, for the ministering priest was none other
than the Csar 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 Csars and
of the /Nobilissimi/, who was put there to spy upon them.

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?

I sat myself down upon a seat in the shade. Presently, as I had
expected, Nicephorus, the priest-Csar, 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.

They caught sight of me seated beneath the tree, and chattered like
startled starlings, till at length Nicephorus understood.

"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."

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.

"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."

"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."

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.

"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."

Then I told him the story of the poisoned figs.

When he had heard it, the tears welled from his hollow eyes and ran
down his pale cheeks.

"Constantine, my brother Leo's son, has done this," he said, "for
never will he rest until all of us are in the grave."

"He is cruel because he fears you, O Nicephorus, and it is said that
your ambition has given him cause to fear."

"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."

"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."

"I do not desire to live, General," he answered. "Oh! that I might
die. Would that I might die."

"Death is not difficult to find, Prince," I replied, and left him.

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.

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 Csar'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.

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:

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.

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.

"What play is this, Prince?" I asked.

"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.

"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."

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.

"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."

After this he fell upon his knees, and, having untied the cut rope
from the window bars, I left him.



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.

Here I will add that of this unhappy Csar 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.

God rest their tortured souls, for they were more sinned against than
sinning.



                             CHAPTER III

                            MOTHER AND SON

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

Now it would seem that since that night when the Csar 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"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?"

"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 Csars and /Nobilissimi/, 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."

"That is all good news, Martina; so good that I wonder what sting is
hidden in all this honey."

"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."

I nodded and she went on:

"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."

"Ah!" I said, "now I think I begin to feel another sting in the
honey."

"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."

"Perhaps, Martina; and if they did I do not know that it would greatly
matter--now."

"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."

"Yes, Martina, something has happened to me. I have become a
Christian."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"Barnabas of Egypt," I said.

"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 /her/ honey. But perhaps she will forgive him for your
sake. You'll have to worship images."

"What do I care about images? It is the spirit that I seek, Martina,
and all these things are nothing."

"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!"

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.

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.

"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."

"I thought that I was on duty, Martina."

"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."

So the mail was removed, leaving me clad in my plain blue tunic and
hose.

"Would you have me come before the Empress thus?" I asked.

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:

"Except at the express order of the Empress, I and my sword are not
parted."

"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."

"Am I a man," I asked angrily, "or a beast being decked for
sacrifice?"

"Fie, Olaf, have you not yet forgotten your heathen talk? Remember, I
pray you, that you are now a Christian in a Christian land."

"I thank you for reminding me of it," I replied; and that moment a
chamberlain, entering hurriedly, commanded my presence.

"Good luck to you, Olaf," said Martina as I followed him. "Be sure to
tell me the news later--or to-morrow."

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.

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 Csar, 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.

I stood at the end of the table and saluted first the Empress and then
the Emperor.

"Who's this?" he asked, glancing at me.

"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."

"Oh! yes. Well, General Olaf, of my mother's guard, have you not been
told that you should salute the Augustus before the Augusta?"

"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."

"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."

"Sire," I answered, "as you command I will remember that Emperors and
Empresses are not men and women, but Emperors and Empresses."

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:

"Drink to us, soldier, for after you have done so, our wits may be
better matched."

I took the cup and holding it, said:

"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.

"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.

"The cup you give is mine," interrupted Irene; "still, my servant is
welcome to the gift. It shall be sent to your quarters, General."

"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:

"May I not give a cup of gold but you must claim it, I to whom the
Empire and all its wealth belong?"

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.

"Have done," he went on in his drunken rage. "Shall the Csars
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."

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.

"Now hearken you, Olaf," he said. "It is true that I ordered fruit to
be sent to that fool-Csar, 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 of 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 Csar, I mean the blind priest,
Father Nicephorus. Don't you, Olaf?"

"Yes, Sire," I answered, "they were placed in that bottle in my
presence and sealed with my seal."

"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 /not/
poisoned, for I will eat one of them."

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.

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.

"Augustus," I said, "you must not touch that fruit," and stepping
forward I took it from his hand.

He sprang to his feet and began to revile me.

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"And if I do not eat it, will the Augustus do so?"

"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."

"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."

Then I lifted the fig to my lips.

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.

"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."

Constantine drank another cup of wine, which, oddly enough, seemed to
sober him for the moment.

"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."

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.

"Give your beast these," said the Emperor, handing the keeper several
of the figs.

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.

"Now," said Irene, "now do you believe, my son?"

"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."

So speaking, he drank off yet another cup of wine and reeled from the
room.

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.



                              CHAPTER IV

                        OLAF OFFERS HIS SWORD

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.

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.

"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."

"The Augusta will remember that the Augustus did not know that the
figs were poisoned."

"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."

"Terrible words, Augusta."

"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."

I obeyed and returned to my station.

She looked at me and said:

"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."

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.

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.

"Sit yonder, Olaf," she said, "for here there is no ceremony; here we
are but man and woman."

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.

"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."

"There are hundreds in your service braver, Empress; cowards do not
take to soldiering."

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"I could offer no more than my life for such a one, Empress, could I?"

"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.

"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."

"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."

"Whether Odin is or is not, I do not fear his curse, Empress."

"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?"

"I think nothing at all, since I hewed off Odin's head and came away
unscathed."

"Then you are a man to my liking, Olaf."

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.

"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."

"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."

"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."

Now I began to thank her, but she stopped me, saying:

"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."

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.

She looked up, and her face was that of a weeping saint.

"Dost understand?" she whispered.

Now despair took me, which I knew full well would soon be followed by
madness. Then came a thought.

"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----"

"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.

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:

"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."

"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."

"Yet hearken," I answered. "There is another wall between us which may
not be climbed."

"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?"

"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."

"Well, what of it? This draws us nearer."

"Study the sayings of your sacred book, Empress, and you will find
that it thrusts us apart."

Now she coloured to her hair, and a kind of madness took her.

"Am I to be preached to by you?" she asked.

"I preach to myself, Augusta, who need it greatly, not to you, who
mayhap do not need it."

"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."

"Have you no pity, Irene? When did I say that I hated you? Moreover,
if I had hated you, should I----" and I ceased.

"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."

I drew the sword, saluted with it, and gave it to her.

"It is a heavy weapon," she said. "Whence came it?"

"From the same grave as the necklace, Augusta."

"Ah! the necklace that your dream-woman wore. Well, go to seek her in
the land of dreams," and she lifted the sword.

"Your pardon, Augusta, but you are about to strike with the blunt
edge, which may wound but will not kill."

She laughed a little, very nervously, and, turning the sword round in
her hand, said:

"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!"

"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."

"I cannot. Kill yourself, Olaf."

"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."

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:

"Tell me first, for I am curious. Are you no man? Or have you forsworn
woman, as do the monks?"

"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."

"So you would marry, would you?" she said, as one who speaks to
herself; then thought awhile, and handed me back the sword.

"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."

Then she sank down upon the couch, and, hiding her face in her hands,
wept bitterly.

It was at this moment that I went very near to loving Irene.

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."

"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."

"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."

So presently I went.



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.

"How came you here unannounced?" I asked, when she was seated.

"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:

"And for what purpose, Martina? To order me to bonds or death?"

"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."

I took the parchment, read it, and laid it on the table, saying:

"The commands of the Empress shall be done. Is there aught else,
Martina?"

"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."

"And I?"

"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."

I said nothing, but a groan I could not choke broke from my lips.

"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."

"I know not what was the hour, Martina, and speak no more to me, I
pray, of that accursed womanish robe."

"Which you treated but ill, Olaf, for it is spotted as though with
blood."

"The Augustus spilt some wine over it."

"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."

"And what else did your mistress tell you, Martina?"

"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."

"Of marriage!" I gasped.

"Certainly--did I not speak the word with clearness?--of marriage."

"With whom, Martina?"

"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."

"What sort of a man, Martina? This Emperor Charlemagne, or some other
king?"

"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."

"And what did she say to that, Martina?"

"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 /you/
are, Olaf."

"Then she may find them in plenty," I said, with an uneasy laugh.

"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."

"Indeed they would. Doubtless you showed her that this was so,
Martina."

"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."

"And what did she answer to that, Martina?"

"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?"

"Oh! I know not, save that I find life difficult, and full of pitfalls
which it is hard to escape."

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.

"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."

"To heaven, perhaps," I suggested.

"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.



                              CHAPTER V

                           AVE POST SECULA

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.

"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."

"The Empress granted it to me as a favour, Father," I answered. "I
told her that you were from the North, like myself."

He studied me with his shrewd blue eyes, and said:

"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?"

"Nothing, Father."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"What will you do now, Father?" I asked. "Return to Egypt?"

"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."

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.

Thus we parted.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

"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?"

"It is true, Augusta."

"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?"

"Nothing," I replied, "save that when the Augusta has considered of
the matter, I will consider of my answer."

At this the courtiers tittered, and, instead of growing angry, as I
thought she might, Irene burst out laughing.

"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."

"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."

"A single soldier! Well, that is a fault which can be remedied. You
should marry, General Olaf."

"When I find any woman who wishes to marry me and whom I wish to
marry, I will obey the Augusta's commands."

"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."

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.

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.

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.

I asked whether Irene intended to be my god-mother, as she had
threatened.

"Not so," replied Martina. "On that point she has changed her mind."

"So much the better," I said. "But why?"

"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."

"Who, then, is to be my god-mother?" I asked hurriedly, leaving the
problem of Irene's motives undiscussed.

"I am, by the written Imperial decree delivered to me not an hour
ago."

"You, Martina, you who are younger than myself by many years?"

"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."

"What do you mean, Martina?" I asked bluntly.

"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."

"I do not quite understand," I said. "Why should the Augusta be
jealous of you?"

"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."

"Then they might find better employment. But tell me outright,
Martina, what is the meaning of all this?"

"Surely even a wooden-headed Northman can guess, Olaf?"

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."

"Then during that month or two perhaps he would be wise to travel," I
suggested.

"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."

Then she sighed, laughed a little, and glided away.

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.

"This, my son," he added, "I am well aware I owe to your good
offices."

I asked him if he would return at once to Upper Egypt, where he had
his bishopric.

"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."

Now I grew interested, who had always grieved over the loss of Egypt
to the Empire, and asked what was this prince's name.

"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."

Suddenly he paused, and began to stare at my throat.

"Is aught wrong with my armour, Father?" I asked.

"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!"

"What is strange, Father?"

"Only that I have seen another like it."

"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."

"No, no; I mean in Egypt, and, what is more, a story hung to the
jewel."

"On whom? Where? What story?" I asked eagerly.

"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."

Then, in spite of all I could do to keep him, he went, muttering:
"Strange! Exceeding strange!" and leaving me quite unfit for prayer.



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.

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:

"Where is the Augustus? Give us the Augustus. We will not be ruled by
a woman and her eunuchs!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 /knew this lady/.

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!

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.

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.

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:

"Farewell. For this life, farewell!"

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, "/Ave post secula!/" Greeting after the ages!

I saw her bosom heave; yes, and heard her whisper back:

"/Ave!/"

So she knew me also.



                              CHAPTER VI

                              HELIODORE

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

I saluted the Empress, who bowed graciously and said:

"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."

"Beloved god-son," began Stauracius, in a voice of sullen rage, "it
has pleased the Augusta to appoint you----"

"On the prayer and advice of me, Stauracius," interrupted the Empress.

"----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."

"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."

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:

"I thank the Augusta----"

"And my god-father Stauracius," she interrupted.

"----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."

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.

"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."

Stauracius and his secretaries bowed themselves out, leaving the three
of us alone.

"Now, Olaf, or Michael--which do you wish to be called?"

"It is more easy for a man to alter his nature than his name," I
answered.

"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."

"Nay, Mistress, his daughter," interrupted Martina.

"Oh! his daughter," said the Augusta suspiciously. "I did not know she
was his daughter. What is she like, Martina?"

"I have not seen her, Empress, but someone said that she is a black-
looking woman, such as the Nile breeds."

"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.

I bowed, saying that I would obey the Augusta's orders to the best of
my power, and she went on:

"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."

These words she spoke heavily, then fell into a fit of brooding.
Rousing herself, she went on:

"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.'"

"I saw and heard something of these things, Augusta; also that certain
of the soldiers on guard in the city had a mutinous air."

"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.

"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."

So I went, and she watched me to the door with eyes that were full of
tenderness.



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.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

When we had kissed our full, we began to talk, seated hand in hand
beneath the oak.

"What have you been doing this day, beloved?" she asked.

"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."

"Did you speak of my father's matter, Olaf?"

"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."

"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:

"'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?'

"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."

"Irene has said many false things in her life," I said, smiling, "but
by all the Saints these were not among them."

Then we embraced again, and after that was finished Heliodore, her
head resting on my shoulder, continued her story:

"'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.'

"'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.'

"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.'

"'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.'

"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."

Now when I, Olaf, heard all this, I groaned and said:

"Oh! Heliodore, it was the Augusta herself."

"Yes, it was the Augusta, as I learned presently. Well, they came, and
I curtsied to them.

"'Are you the daughter of Magas, the Egyptian?' asked the lady, eyeing
me from head to foot.

"'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.'

"'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.'

"Now I curtsied again, and said:

"'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.'

"'Indeed, and that which the General Michael wears came also from a
tomb.'

"'Yes, he told me so, Augusta,' I said.

"'It would seem that the two must once have been one, Daughter of
Magas?'

"'It may be so, Augusta; I do not know.'

"Now the Empress looked about her, and the lady Martina, dropping
behind, began to fan herself.

"'Are you married, girl?' she asked.

"'No,' I answered.

"'Are you affianced?'

"Now I hesitated a little, then answered 'No' again.

"'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.'"

"What did you answer to that saying?" I asked.

"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.'"

"And then?" I asked.

"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.'

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"Hush!" she said, raising her finger. "I fancied I heard someone stir
behind us."

"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."

"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 /we/ 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."

"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."



                             CHAPTER VII

                         VICTORY OR VALHALLA!

A minute later I heard a rustle as of branches being moved by people
thrusting their way through them. A choked voice commanded,

"Take him living or dead."

Armed men appeared about us, four of them, and one cried "Yield!"

I sprang up and drew the Wanderer's sword.

"Who orders the General Michael to yield in his own command?" I asked.

"I do," answered the man. "Yield or die!"

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"Had I known it, Augusta, I would never have drawn sword, who am your
officer and obedient to the end."

"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 /me/ dead, I care not which, then fall upon your sword."

"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."

"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?"

Now Heliodore spoke for the first time.

"And has not the Empress of the World called a poor maid of blood as
noble as her own by shameful names?" she asked.

"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."

"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."

Now Irene stared at Heliodore, and Heliodore stared back at her, and
the sight was very strange.

"At least you have spirit, girl. But think not that shall save you,
for there's no room for both of us on earth."

"If I go it may prove wide enough, Augusta," I broke in.

"Nay, you shall not go, Olaf, at least not yet. My orders are that you
do /not/ fall upon your sword. As for this Egyptian witch, well,
presently my people will be here; then we will see."

Now I drew Heliodore to the trunk of the great tree which stood near
by and set myself in front of her.

"What are you about to do?" asked the Empress.

"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."

"Have no fear, Olaf," Heliodore said gently, "I wear a dagger."

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.

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.

"Kill me that man who has slain my servants, or stay--take him
living," screamed the Augusta.

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.

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.

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,

"Your pardon, Augusta, but why are we asked to kill our own general?"

"Obey my orders, fellow," she answered.

"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."

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.

"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!"

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.

"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."

Then I spoke, saying,

"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.

Now from those that Jodd had summoned there went up a roar of "/No/,"
while even the rest were silent. Irene sprang forward and cried,

"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."

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.

"Yield or we attack," said he who had taken command of them.

"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 were Jodd's messenger had told his tale.

"I am /sure/ that we do not yield," continued Jodd, and suddenly
raised the wild northern war-cry, "/Valhalla, Valhalla! Victory or
Valhalla!/"

Instantly from three hundred throats, above the sound of the running
feet that drew ever nearer, came the answering shout of "/Valhalla,
Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!/" Then out of the gloom up dashed the
Northmen.

Now other shouts arose of "Olaf! Olaf! Olaf! Where is our General
Olaf? Where is Red-Sword?"

"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,

"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?"

"Never!" she cried back. "The only thing I give to you is death. On to
these rebels, soldiers!"

Now, seeing what must come, I strove to speak, but Jodd shouted again,

"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."

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.

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.

"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?"

She only glared at me and made no answer.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 "/Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or
Valhalla!/" 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.

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.

Shouting to some of our wounded to watch the women, I drew my sword
and leapt forward.

"I come, Northmen!" I cried, and was greeted with a roar of:

"Olaf Red-Sword! Follow Olaf Red-Sword!" for so the soldiers named me.

"Steady, Northmen! Shoulder to shoulder, Northmen!" I cried back. "Now
at them! Charge! /Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!/"

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:

"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.
/Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!/"

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.

"Well done, Olaf," said Heliodore; but Irene only looked at me with a
kind of wonder in her eyes.

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:

"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 Csar. 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?"

"How can I," I answered, "when there stands the Empress, whose bread I
have eaten and to whom I have sworn fealty?"

"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."

As he spoke I saw certain men draw near to Irene for a purpose which I
could guess, and stepped between her and them.

"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."

"Little use in that, Olaf, seeing that you are but one and we are
many," answered Jodd. "Come, will you be Csar, or will you not?"

Now Irene crept up behind me and whispered in my ear.

"Accept," she said. "It pleases me well. Be Csar 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, /me/."

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.

"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."

Now Irene turned to Heliodore, and said in a swift, low voice:

"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
/you/ 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/ 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?"

Heliodore looked at the Empress with that strange, slow smile of hers.
Then she looked at me, and answered:

"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."

"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.

"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."

"Your answer, Olaf Red-Sword!" called Jodd. "You have talked enough."

"Your answer! Yes, your answer!" the Northmen echoed.

"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."

"Marry them both," shouted a rude voice, but Jodd replied:

"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."

On hearing these words, and seeing the swords draw near, Irene
clutched hold of me, for always she feared death above everything.

"You will not see me butchered?" she gasped.

"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."

"Tear her away!" called a voice.

"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!"

As I spoke, from the direction of the palace came a sound of many
voices and of the tread of five thousand feet.

"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."

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.

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.

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:

"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."

"And if we refuse it, what?" asked a voice.

"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."

Now the leaders of the Northmen consulted. Irene watched them for
awhile, then turned to me and asked,

"What will they do, Olaf?"

"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."

"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."

"No, Augusta," I answered, "I am not prepared. Rather would I trust
myself into your power, Augusta."

The conference of the officers had come to an end. Their leader
advanced and said,

"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."

"Good!" said Jodd. "I looked for such words from you."

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,

"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."

"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."

So she spoke, but I made no answer. Instead, I turned to Heliodore,
saying,

"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?"

"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."

"I thank you," I answered; "your mind is mine."

Then I stepped forward and said,

"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."

"We will not surrender you," they shouted.

"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?"

"Aye!" they roared in answer.

"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."

"Aye!" they roared again.



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.



                             CHAPTER VIII

                          THE TRIAL OF OLAF

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.

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.

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.

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.

I stood before the judges, and they stared at me.

"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.

"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."

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.

"Waste no time in listening to his insolence," said the president of
the Court. "Clerk, set out the case."

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.

I was asked what I pleaded to this charge, and replied,

"I am not guilty."

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.

"Why did the Empress order you and your companions to attack me?" I
asked.

"I think because she saw you kiss the Egyptian lady, General," at
which answer many laughed.

"You tried to kill me, did you not?"

"Yes, General, for the Empress ordered us so to do."

"Then what happened?"

"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.

"Did I provoke you in any way before you attacked me?"

"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."

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.

"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.

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,

"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."

Now these captains glowered at me and the president said,

"The prisoner is right. What need is there of more evidence?"

"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."

"Call the Augusta!" gasped the president. "Perchance, prisoner
Michael, you will wish next to call God Himself on your behalf?"

"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."

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.

"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."

"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."

"Who speaks?" asked the president. "Let him come forward."

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.

"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.

"Take away that barbarian's axe," exclaimed an officer who sat among
the judges.

"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?"

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.

"Have you done?" asked the president at length when the story was
finished.

"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."

"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."

"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."

"Three hundred!" snarled the president. "The Empress has three
thousand within these walls who will soon make an end of your three
hundred."

"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 Thermopyl. 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."

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.

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,

"Prisoner, we find you guilty. Have you any reason to offer why
sentence of death should not be passed upon you?"

"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."

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:

"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."

Now the voice of Jodd was heard crying through the gathering gloom,
for night was near:

"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."

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:

"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."

Then he called aloud, "Let the prisoner be removed."

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.

"Farewell, god-mother," I whispered to Martina as I passed.

"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.

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.

Then they hurried me away, for now it was not only the judges who were
afraid.



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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Now we had met but to be parted again by death, which seemed hard
indeed. Yet since we /had/ 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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"I guessed as much, Augusta," I said, "but what of it?"

"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."

"I am grieved, Augusta," I said.

"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----"

"Oh! Augusta," I interrupted, "why stain your lips with those words
'of justice'!"

"----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."

"Doubtless you may do any of these things, Augusta, but which of them
do you wish to do?"

"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?"

"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."

Her face hardened.

"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.'

"Dead!" I gasped. "Dead!"

"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."

"How did you see her buried, you who are not welcome among the
Northmen?" I asked.

"By my order, as her blood was high, she was laid in the palace
graveyard, Olaf."

"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."

"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."

I looked at Irene and Irene looked at me.

"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."

"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."

"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
/you/ 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."

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.

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.

Irene knocked thrice upon the door. Bolts were thrown back, and men
entered.

"Blind him!" she said.



                              CHAPTER IX

                         THE HALL OF THE PIT

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.

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.

"What weapon is this?" I asked, "and why do you give it to me?"

"It is your own sword," answered the man, "which I was commanded to
return to you. I know no more."

Then he went away, leaving the sword with me.

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.

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.

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.

"Have no fear, Olaf. I am Martina. Oh, now I understand why yonder
tigress sent me on that distant mission."

"How did you come here, Martina?" I asked.

"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."

"Oh! Martina," I broke in, "I did not desire that others who are
innocent should share my woes."

"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."

"At least they are faithful," I said. "But, oh! tell me, Martina, what
of Heliodore?"

"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."

"Then I was right! When Irene told me she was dead she lied."

"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?"

"How did she go?"

"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."

"Then blessings on the Bishop Barnabas," I said.

"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."

"Yet I am glad that he did not come alone, Martina."

"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."

"I think so, Martina. Indeed, I believe so, since otherwise we suffer
much in vain. Now tell me, how and when do I die?"

"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."

"Yet, Martina, if you know these plots the Augusta knows them also,
since you and she are one."

"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?"

Then again she kissed my hand and presently was gone.



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.

"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."

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.

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.

Thrice this happened, and every time the murmur grew more loud.
Indeed, I thought I heard one say,

"The man's not blind at all," and another, "Some spirit guides him."

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 "/Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!/"

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.

So with all my strength I cried aloud, "Olaf Red-Sword is here! To
Olaf, men of the North!"

Thrice I cried. I heard folk running, not to me, but from me,
doubtless those whose whispers had reached my ears.

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.

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.

"'Tis Olaf," said one, "Olaf blinded, and, by Thor, see where he
stands!"

Then Jodd's voice roared out,

"Move not, Olaf; move not, or you die."

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!"

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,

"Follow where I lead, Olaf."

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,

"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.

"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."

"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."

"You'd best find the name, lawyer, for were it that of a god we
Northmen would hear it."

"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."

"Yes, yes, we understand the game, lawyer, for there yawns the open
pit. But have you aught more to say?"

"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."

"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----"

"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."

"Is that true, Olaf?" asked Jodd.

"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."

"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."

So they saluted me, kneeling, and kissing my feet, and one and all
made confession of their crime.

"Enough," I said, "I pardon them who are but tools. Pray to God that
He may do as much."

"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?"

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 /them/
from the cruel rocks and the waters that seethed a hundred feet below
that dreadful chamber.

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.

"What mercy had they on you?" he cried. "Let them drink from their own
cup."

"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.



It was over. I heard someone enter the hall and whisper in Jodd's ear;
heard his answer also.

"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."

The messenger went. Jodd and some of the Northmen began to consult
together, and Martina led me aside.

"Tell me what has chanced, Martina," I asked, "for I am bewildered."

"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."

"How did you find me, Martina, and in time?"

"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.'

"'God alone knows what He can do, Augusta,' I answered, for the words
seemed to be put into my lips.

"Then she cursed and struck me again, and so left me barred in my
chamber.

"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."

"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."

"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.

"'Save me if you would save Olaf,' I cried. 'I am prisoned here.'

"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.

"That is all the story, Olaf."



                              CHAPTER X

                         OLAF GIVES JUDGMENT

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.

"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?"

"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."

"Confront me with them," said Irene, "that I may prove to you that
they lie."

"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?"

"Who are you that dare to ask me questions?" she replied, gathering up
her courage.

"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."

"So it was you who betrayed me, Martina," gasped Irene; "and I had you
in my power. Oh! I had you in my power!"

"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.

"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?"

"By that of the Augusta," I answered.

"For what reason, General Olaf?"

"For one that I will not state," I answered.

"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?"

"What!" screamed Irene, "blinded! I blinded! I, the Empress!"

"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?"

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?

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."

"Shame on her if she does not," muttered Martina as I paused.

"Well, friends, that is my case," I went on; "let the Augusta deny it
if she can."

"Speak, Lady. Do you deny it?" said Jodd.

"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."

"And if the lady Martina says so, what then?" asked Jodd.

"Then she lies also," answered the Empress sullenly.

"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."

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----!

Someone moved towards me, and I heard Irene's voice whispering in my
ear.

"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."

"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.

"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."

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.

"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."

I heard a sound as of a woman throwing herself upon her knees before
me. I heard Irene's voice whisper through her tears,

"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."

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.

"Greeting, friends," he said, and at once there came a rattle of
saluting swords and an answering cry of

"Greeting, Augustus!"

"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."

Now I heard Irene turn with a swift and furious movement.

"Your birthright, boy," she cried. "What birthright have you save that
which my body gave?"

"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."

"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."

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,

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"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.

"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."

With this vile taunt she went.

"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?"

"I am that man, Augustus."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"Leave to go hence, Augustus," I answered.

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

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,

"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?"

"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."

"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."




                               BOOK III

                                EGYPT



                              CHAPTER I

                          TIDINGS FROM EGYPT

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.

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.



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.

Martina was talking, she who always loved to talk, if not of one
thing, then of another.

"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----"

"And your spirit, or double, or whatever you call it, was kindly
leading me round the edge of the death-trap," I interrupted.

"----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."

"Jodd and the others did that," I answered. "I only sat here and made
the plans."

"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."

"Not altogether so, Martina," I answered with a sigh.

"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."

As she spoke I heard the guards salute without and Jodd's heavy step
at the door of the chamber.

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"What tidings, Jodd?"

"None that are good, General. The bishop, he says, was killed by
Moslems a while ago, or so he had been told."

"God rest him. But the others, Jodd, what of the others?"

"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."

"And then?" I gasped.

"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."

"I thank God," I said. "But, Jodd, how is the man sure that she was
Heliodore?"

"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."

"What more?" I asked.

"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."

"Send this prisoner to me at once, Jodd, with an interpreter. I would
question him myself."

"I fear he is not fit to come, General."

"Then I will go to him. Lead me, Martina."

"If so, you must go far, General, for he died an hour ago, and his
companions are making him ready for burial."

"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."

"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."

"Be comforted, Olaf," broke in Martina, "for what more could he have
told you?"

"Nothing, perchance," I answered; "yet I should have gained many days
of time. Know that I go to Egypt to search for Heliodore."

"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."

"That is so," I answered heavily.



"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."

"It may be, Martina. Still, I go to seek Heliodore."

"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."

"Yet I go, Martina."

"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?"

"I do not know, Martina. Your brain is more nimble than mine; think,
think, and tell me."

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.

"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?"

"Yes, Martina; but what of it?"

"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?"

"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?"

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"Still, I must search for her, Jodd."

"You are a blind man. How can you search?"

Then an idea came to him, and he added,

"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."

Now I laughed outright and asked,

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

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,

"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."

"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?"

"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?"

"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?"

"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."

"So you go to Egypt with Olaf?"

"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."



                              CHAPTER II

                       THE STATUES BY THE NILE

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.

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.

As we were thus engaged, she talking and I listening and asking
questions, she said,

"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."

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.

"Out of the road, you blind beggar," he said. "The noble officers of
the Caliph board our ship, and you block their path."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"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."

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.

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.

"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."

"Henceforth, lady, Cosmas shall drink water only. When not in his cups
he is an honest fellow, and I do answer for him."

Yet, alas! as the end showed, Cosmas was not to be answered for by
anyone.



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,

"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."

"And I believe that she is alive," I answered, "and therefore I go to
seek her."

"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."

"That I will not do," I answered again.

"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."

"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."

Then we parted.



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.

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.

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 /two mighty
figures of stone/.

"This is the place," she said, and my heart leapt at her words. "Now
let us land and follow our fortune."

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.

"Whither now?" asked Martina.

"To the figures of stone," I answered.

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.

"We stand beneath the statues," she said, "and they are awesome to
look on; mighty, seated kings, higher than a tall tree."

"What lies behind them?" I asked.

"The ruins of a great temple."

"Lead me to that temple."

So we passed through a gateway into a court, and there we halted.

"Now tell me what you see," I said.

"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."

"It is the place that I saw in my dream many years ago at Aar," I
said.

"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?"

"Now we will eat and sleep," I said. "Perhaps light will come to us in
our sleep."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

Now, when the woman heard that we were Christians her voice changed.
"I also am a Christian," she said; "but give me the sign."

So we made the sign of the Cross on our breasts, which a Moslem will
die rather than do.

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

Thus I led up 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.

"What do you know of the lady Heliodore?" she asked sharply.

"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."

"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."

"Yes," I answered, "better so. But why do folk fear to visit those
tombs of which you speak, Palka?"

"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?"

"Yet the dead sleep quietly enough, Palka."

"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."

"How do you know, Palka?"

"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."

"Then what happens, Palka?"

"Nothing, except that the offering is taken."

"By beggar folk, or perchance by wild creatures!"

"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."

"Have you ever seen these ghosts, Palka?"

"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."

"She!" I said, then checked myself and asked indifferently: "Well,
what was the fashion of this ghost?"

"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."

"Had she aught upon her head, Palka?"

"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."

"And pray how do you know what I wear, Palka?" I asked.

"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."

"There are beggars who were not always beggars, Palka," I said slowly.

"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.

As for me, I sought Martina, who had been sleeping through the heat,
and told her everything.

"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.



                             CHAPTER III

                     THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD KINGS

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.

"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."

"On the contrary," I said, "we will make you our heirs," and I laid a
bag containing some pieces of money upon the table.

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.

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.

"The beast sees what we cannot see," whispered Palka in explanation.

At last we halted, and I set down the jars at her bidding upon a flat
rock which she called the Table of Offerings.

"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."

"Then go swiftly, Palka," I said, "for we bide here this night."

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"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."

"Now I am sure that you are mad," exclaimed Palka. "Come, Hilda, and
leave this fool to make trial of his cure for blindness."

"Nay," answered Martina, "I must stay with my uncle, although I am
very much afraid. If I did not, he would beat me afterwards."

"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.

When she had gone the silence grew deep.

"Now, Martina," I whispered, "find some place where we may hide whence
you can see this Table of Offerings."

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.

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:

"I see a figure. It creeps from the shadow of the cliff towards the
Table of Offerings."

"What is it like?" I asked.

"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 /that of Heliodore!/"

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.

In a moment Martina was at my side.

"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?"

"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----"

"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."

Then she took me by the hand and led me to where she had last seen
Heliodore.

"She has vanished away," she said, "here is nothing but rock."

"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."

She left me, and presently returned.

"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."

She led me to the cliff, and up it to perhaps twice the height of a
man, then round a projecting rock.

"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?"

"Follow, I think. Where is it?"

"Nay, I go first. Give me your hand, Olaf, and lie upon your breast."

I did so, and presently felt the weight of Martina swinging on my arm.

"Leave go," she said faintly, like one who is afraid.

I obeyed, though with doubt, and heard her feet strike upon some
floor.

"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."

I did so, and found myself beside Martina.

"Now, in the darkness you are the better guide," she whispered. "Lead
on, I'll follow, holding to your robe."

So I crept forward warily and safely, as the blind can do, till
presently she exclaimed,

"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."

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.

 "Dear maid of mine,
    I bid my strings
  Beat on thy shrine
    With music's wings.
  Palace or cell
    A shrine I see,
  If there thou dwell
    And answer me."

There was no answer, so I sang the second verse and once more waited.

 "On thy love's fire
    My passion breathes,
  Wind of Desire
    Thy incense wreathes.
  Greeting! To thee,
    Or soon or late,
  I, bond or free,
    Am dedicate."

And from somewhere far away in the recesses of that great cave came
the answering strophe.

 "O Love sublime
    And undismayed,
  No touch of Time
    Upon thee laid.
  That that is thine;
    Ended the quest!
  I seek /my/ shrine
    Upon /thy/ breast."

Then I laid down the harp.

At last a voice, the voice of Heliodore speaking whence I knew not,
asked,

"Do the dead sing, or is it a living man? And if so, how is that man
named?"

"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."

I heard the sound of footsteps creeping towards me and Heliodore's
voice say,

"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?"

"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."

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.

So at length came joy such as I cannot tell; the joy of lost love
found again.



A while went by, how long I know not, and at last I said,

"Where is Martina? It is time we left this place."

"Martina!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean Irene's lady, and is she here?
If so, how comes she to be travelling with you, Olaf?"

"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."

"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?"

Thrice she cried the words, and at the third time an answer came from
the shadows at a distance.

"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."

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.

"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?"

"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."

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"'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.'

"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,

"'Musa would scarce care for this companion, though in her day she may
have been fair enough.'

"Then they came to the coffin.

"'Here's another,' exclaimed the soldier, 'and one with a gold face.
Allah! how its eyes stare.'

"'Pull it out,' said the officer.

"'Let that be your task,' answered the man. 'I'll defile myself with
no more corpses.'

"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.'

"Then they went, leaving me; the painted linen creaked upon my breast
as I breathed again.

"'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.

"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.

"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.

"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."

Now I spoke for the first time, saying,

"And did you wish to die, Heliodore?"

"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."

"Why not, Heliodore?"

"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!"



                              CHAPTER IV

                           THE CALIPH HARUN

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.

Once more I stood upon the deck of the /Diana/ 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,

"Be calm; he comes; all is well."

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

"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?"

"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."

"Cast off! Cast off!" roared Menas.

"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."

"Now all is finished," I said.

"Yes," answered Heliodore, "all is finished. After we have endured so
much it is hard. Well, at least death remains to us."

"Hold your hand," exclaimed Martina. "God still lives and can save us
yet."

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!

"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."

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.

"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."

"Aye, sir," I answered, "and a brave man should know when to die."

"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."

"Can the blind spy?" asked Martina indignantly.

"Who can say, Lady? But certainly it seems that /your/ 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?"

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.

"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."

A man obeyed, and Heliodore's beautiful black hair, which I would not
suffer her to cut, fell tumbling to her knees.

"Let me be," she said. "I admit that I am a woman."

"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?"

"Cease your mockings, sir," said Heliodore despairingly. "I am she you
seek."

"'Tis Musa seeks you, not I, Lady."

"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."

"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."

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.

"What is that?" I asked of Yusuf.

"I think, General, that your servants from the /Diana/ 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."

"God pardon him! As yet I cannot," I muttered, and marched on.



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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

The Emir thought a while, and we waited trembling. At last he gave
judgment, saying:

"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.

"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 /not/ 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."

"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."

"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."

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
/Diana/. 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.

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.

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.

"Do not die," he answered, "since then perchance you will find you
have done so in vain," and he left me.

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.

"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."

"How can that be, seeing that he is in Baghdad?" I answered. Still, I
told him my ailments.

When I had finished he said:

"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."

"Why should I tell you all my story, sir?"

"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."

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.

"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.

"Sir Physician," I answered, "the lady Martina has been and is no more
than my friend."

"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?"

"Surely, that is if it is nothing which will bring disgrace upon my
head or name."

"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."

"My heart is too full of sorrow to hold more," I answered.

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,

"High Lord, your will?"

"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."

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.

"Be seated, Lady," said the grave voice of the physician, "for I have
words to say to you."

"Sir, I obey," answered another voice, at the sound of which my heart
stood still. It was that of Heliodore.

"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.

"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?"

"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.

"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."

"Sir, before I answer I would put a question to you. Why do you say
'the memory of a blind man'?"

"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."

"Then, sir," she answered, with a little sob, "it behoves me to follow
him through that gate."

"That will happen when it pleases God. Meanwhile, what is your
answer?"

"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."

"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."

"That I refuse, as I have refused it before," said Heliodore.

"The second is," he continued, "that you enter the harem of the Emir
Musa."

"That I refuse also."

"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."

"That I accept," said Heliodore.

"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?"

"Yes," she said in a low voice.

"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."

"Then give it me," said Heliodore faintly. "I will drink at once and
have done."

Then it was that I came out from behind my curtain and groped my way
towards them.

"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.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"Husband, I pledge you," she said, and drank, thrusting the cup into
my hand.

I, too, lifted it to my lips. Lo! it was empty.

"Oh! most cruel of thieves," I cried, "you have stolen all."

"Aye," she answered. "Shall I see you swallow poison before my eyes? I
die, but perchance God may save you yet."

"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.

In an instant, as I thrust the lattice open, I felt two strong arms
cast about me and heard the physician exclaim,

"Come, Lady, help me with this madman, lest he do himself a mischief."

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.

"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?"

"It is so, Caliph," pealed the answer from many throats.

"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."

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.

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,

"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."

Her words were simple enough, yet they kindled in my heart a light by
which it saw many things.

"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."

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,

"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."

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.

When it was over, Harun commanded my wife to lead me before him.

"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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

So they all went, leaving Heliodore and myself alone in the great
room, yes, alone at last and safe.



                              CHAPTER V

                            IRENE'S PRAYER

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.

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 /he/ 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.

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.

Thus fell Irene, the mighty Empress of the Eastern Empire!

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.

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.

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.



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.

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.

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.

"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,

"Tell us, Martina, is it true that those rich possessions of yours in
Alexandria which the Caliph gave you are sold?"

"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 /firman/, but Jodd here
refused."

"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.

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,

"A ship! A ship sailing into the harbour, and it flies the Imperial
standard."

"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.

"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."

"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."

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.

"Do you ride with us to-night, Martina?" I asked, recognising her
step.

"No, Olaf," she said quickly, "nor I think can you. Here are letters
for you from Byzantium. Jodd has brought them from the ship."

"Where is Jodd?" I said.

"Without, in the company of the captain of the ship, some guards, and
a prisoner."

"What prisoner?"

"Perchance the letters will tell you," she replied evasively. "Have I
your command to open and read? They are marked 'Most Secret.'"

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:

"'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.

"'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.

"'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.

"'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.

"'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.'"

"By God's Name, he means that I must blind her!" I exclaimed.

Making no answer, Martina went on with the letter----

"'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.

"'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.'"



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.

"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."

"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."



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.

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.

As I heard her come I rose and bowed to her, and my first words to her
were to pray her to be seated.

"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."

"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."

So the paper was given to her by Jodd, and she read it aloud, weighing
each word carefully.

"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."[*]

[*] The skull of this Nicephorus is said to have been used as a
    drinking cup by his victorious enemy, the King Krum.--Editor.

She paused in her fearful curse, then said in a new voice, that voice
in which she was wont to plead,

"You will not blind me, Olaf. You'll not take from me my last
blessing, the light of day. Think what it means----"

"The General Olaf should know well enough," interrupted Jodd, but I
waved him to be silent, and answered,

"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.

"Oh! Olaf," she said, "if I harmed you, you know well it was because I
loved you."

"Then God send that no woman ever loves me in such a fashion," broke
in Jodd.

"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?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

"Olaf, after I regained my power----"

"By blinding your own son," said Jodd, "for which you will have an
account to settle one day."

"----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----"

"What good was a maimed man to you when you were courting the Emperor
Charlemagne?" asked Jodd.

Now at last she turned on him, saying,

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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 Csar 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?"

"Just such a command as you gave to those who blinded your son
Constantine," muttered Jodd beneath his breath.

"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.

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?"

"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 /must/ 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?"

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.

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 /failed/ 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.

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.

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.

"Cease, Madam," I said. "I have decided. Jodd, bid the messenger
summon hither Heliodore and Martina, my wife and yours."

"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."

"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."

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.

"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."

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.

The women came at length. Heliodore entered first, and to her Irene
bowed.

"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."

"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."

"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."

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,

"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."

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,

"Thy servant greets thee, Augusta."

"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."

"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."

Now, when she heard these words, at length the proud spirit of Irene
broke.

"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."

So saying, she burst into tears and fell senseless to the ground.

Martina ran to aid her, but Heliodore turned to me and said in her
tender voice,

"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."



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.

Then came this pregnant sentence:

"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."

"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."

I nodded, for I knew that this was so. Then, at some whispered word
from Martina, Heliodore spoke.

"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."

Now I bowed my head for a while and thought. Then I lifted it and
said,

"So let it be. No other road is open."

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.

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.

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.

"Whither do you go, Olaf?" she asked.

"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
/you/ were wont to send for officers who had ceased to please you."

"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 heard 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."

"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."

"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.



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?

I cannot tell. I cannot tell. Darkness entombs us all and history is
dumb.



At Aar there are many graves! Standing among them, not so long ago,
much of this history came back to me.





End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Wanderer's Necklace, by Haggard

