Part 2 (1/2)

One night after supper, when the cattle had been fed, the ch.o.r.es were done, and the boys and girls were skipping stones on the beach together, the largest boy, Thorold, had proved that he could throw a stone the furthest, but grew quite angry because he could not make one skip along the water as many times as Ulf. He said many things that were not nice to hear, and finally cried,

”I am a freeman's son and thou art only a thrall. And I am the stronger,” shaking his fist in the other's face.

”So is an ox,” said Ulf, quietly, and Edith Fairhair cried out ”Good!”

Ulf was her thrall, and she did not like Thorold, anyway. He was too rough because he was strong, and too stupid. Then said Ulf,

”If Sigurd was Jarl only because he is strong, Thorolf would be Jarl in his stead.”

Now, Thorold was the son of Thorolf, and this was more than he could stand. He sprang at Ulf without another word. But that son of the Forest had not been called a wildcat by Sigurd without reason, and when they came to the ground together it was he who was on top, and he stayed there, too, till some men came along and picked him off. Things looked black for Ulf just then.

However, it might have been worse. Thorold was not much hurt, except in his pride, and Edith Fairhair insisted that before Ulf was flogged the matter should be judged by the Jarl himself, which was perfectly proper, since Ulf belonged to his household. Thus Ulf found himself brought into the hall, the steps echoing among the rafters overhead, and along past rows of s.h.i.+elds and spears that hung upon the wall, to where the Jarl sat at the further end, on the ”high seat” as it was called. The saga-singer sat there on the low platform, and on the high-seat itself also rested the Jarl's other visitor, and through the window the rays of the setting sun glinted like flame on the helmets which each chief wore, and on the golden bosses and buckles of their armour.

Jarl Sigurd was not particularly surprised at a claim for justice, but he was surprised to see among the witnesses his own daughter, standing modestly apart lest the stranger should think ill of her, yet with her father's own calm, proud look in her eye. Then he saw Ulf, and began to understand.

The trial was brief enough, for every one told the truth, even Thorold. The Jarl heard them patiently, to the last one, then politely asked the opinion of the other chief. Now the guest, Jarl Swend, knew perfectly well that of all the sailors in longs.h.i.+ps along that land not one was more long-headed, more perfect in the art of war or in making other leaders at a council believe his was the better way, than was the man who sat by his side. So he looked at Ulf and laughed a little; then he said,

”If this black-haired thrall is guilty of aught then am I, for I too say, 'If Sigurd was Jarl only because of his strength,' another than he might lead us in battle. Every man has two strong arms. So strong arms are many, but wise heads are few.”

Now this was a good word, and Sigurd was well pleased, as indeed he ought to have been, for it was a great compliment to himself. But it seemed to him that it would be well for him to say next a word which might show that he was worthy of such praise. So, after he had thought a while, he said,

”Ulf goes free. He has done no wrong. Thorold should learn that a warrior who does not think as well as strike is good only for rowing.

Now, this is my word to thee and to all my small people. Jarl Swend well says that strong arms are plenty, but heads to plan are few. Let us raise up more good heads. Twelve moons from now I will call you together. On that day the boy who brings to me the most wonderful thing which he has made with his own hands, planned out by himself, shall receive a prize worthy of a jarl's giving.”

He paused, and looked thoughtfully at Edith Fairhair's eager face.

Then he said,

”If the girls wish to try it like their brothers, they too shall have a prize of their own to win. And those who do not win it will yet be none the worse for trying.”

Then Jarl Swend laughed as he looked at Sigurd, and said,

”Truly, it is not for nothing that men call thee Sigurd the Wise; now I see why the young men who sail their longs.h.i.+ps from your vik are luckier than other men.” And Sigurd was satisfied.

But when all the other lads had gone, and the sunset flush had faded into grey, Ulf lingered, then went up to the high seat, and said, boldly,

”Jarl Sigurd, thrall am I, yet a chief's son also. Is the offer open to me?”

Sigurd looked at a scar on his arm and laughed. Then he nodded kindly, and said,

”Thrall thou art, and a chief's son also. Win thou the prize and thrall art thou no longer.”

Then Ulf took a long, long look at the Jarl, a look which somehow included Edith Fairhair also, and went away.

SPARK V.

HOW THE STAR FLEW INTO MANY PIECES, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

What a glorious thing it is to be young and full of life! Ulf went out of the long hall so delighted that he hardly knew whether his feet did not have wings; and he went straight to the sh.o.r.e of the vik, climbed up into one of the longs.h.i.+ps, made his way to the lofty prow and sat down to think it over. That prow curved upward and over like a great swan's neck, with a dragon's head carved on the end, and he noted with curious eyes how here and there could be seen a splintered scar and in it perhaps still the arrow-head that made it. He dug one out and looked at it, with a sniff of contempt. He knew he could make a better one himself. He did not know that that arrow-head was made in a faraway island, called Britain, where traders went to buy tin. British arrow-heads have been great travellers.