Part 54 (1/2)

'Her money?-That money? G.o.d forgive her!' answered Philammon. 'Do you fancy me base enough to touch it? But I am resolved. Tell me what to do, and I will do it.'

'You know the lane which runs down to the ca.n.a.l, under the left wall of the house?'

'Yes.'

'And a door in the corner tower, close to the landing-place?' 'I do.'

'Be there, with a dozen stout monks, to-morrow, an hour after sundown, and take what we give you. After that, the concern is yours, not ours.'

'Monks?' said Philammon. 'I am at open feud with the whole order.'

'Make friends with them, then,' shortly suggested Smid.

Philammon writhed inwardly. 'It makes no difference to you, I presume, whom I bring?'

'No more than it does whether or not you pitch her into the ca.n.a.l, and put a hurdle over her when you have got her,' answered Smid; 'which is what a Goth would do, if he were in your place.'

'Do not vex the poor lad, friend. If he thinks he can mend her instead of punis.h.i.+ng her, in Freya's name, let him try. You will be there, then? And mind, I like you. I liked you when you faced that great river-hog. I like you better now than ever; for you have spoken to-day like a Sagaman, and dared like a hero. Therefore mind; if you do not bring a good guard to-morrow night, your life will not be safe. The whole city is out in the streets; and Odin alone knows what will be done, and who will be alive, eight-and-forty hours hence. Mind you!-The mob may do strange things, and they may see still stranger things done. If you once find yourself safe back here, stay where you are, if you value her life or your own. And-if you are wise, let the men whom you bring with you be monks, though it cost your proud stomach-'

'That's not fair, prince! You are telling too much!' interrupted Smid, while Philammon gulped down the said proud stomach, and answered, 'Be it so!'

'I have won my bet, Smid,' said the old man, chuckling, as the two tramped out into the street, to the surprise and fear of all the neighbours, while the children clapped their hands, and the street dogs felt it their duty to bark l.u.s.tily at the strange figures of their unwonted visitors.

'No play, no pay, Wulf. We shall see to-morrow.'

'I knew that he would stand the trial! I knew he was right at heart!'

'At all events, there is no fear of his ill-using the poor thing, if he loves her well enough to go down on his knees to his sworn foes for her.'

'I don't know that,' answered Wulf, with a shake of the head. 'These monks, I hear, fancy that their G.o.d likes them the better the more miserable they are: so, perhaps they may fancy that he will like them all the more, the more miserable they make other people. However, it's no concern of ours.'

'We have quite enough of our own to see to just now. But mind, no play, no pay.'

'Of course not. How the streets are filling! We shall not be able to see the guards to-night, if this mob thickens much more.'

'We shall have enough to do to hold our own, perhaps. Do you hear what they are crying there? ”Down with all heathens! Down with barbarians!” That means us, you know.'

'Do you fancy no one understands Greek but yourself? Let them come .... It may give us an excuse.... And we can hold the house a week.'

'But how can we get speech of the guards?'

'We will slip round by water. And, after all, deeds will win them better than talk. They will be forced to fight on the same side as we, and most probably be glad of our help; for if the mob attacks any one, it will begin with the Prefect.'

'And then-Curse their shouting! Let the soldiers once find our Amal at their head, and they will be ready to go with him a mile, where they meant to go a yard.'

'The Goths will, and the Markmen, and those Dacians, and Thracians, or whatever the Romans call them. But I hardly trust the Huns.'

'The curse of heaven on their pudding faces and pigs' eyes! There will be no love lost between us. But there are not twenty of them scattered in different troops; one of us can thrash three of them; and they will be sure to side with the winning party. Besides, plunder, plunder, comrade! When did you know a Hun turn back from that, even if he were only on the scent of a lump of tallow?'