Part 10 (1/2)
”To some small degree I can,” he answered. ”I learned in my boyhood; but last summer, on the dairy farm of Gilli of Trondhjem, I practised on sheep-skins--”
”Gilli of Trondhjem?” Leif repeated. He sat suddenly erect, and shot a glance at the unconscious Helga; and the old German, peering from the shadows behind him, did the same.
Alwin regarded them wonderingly. ”Yes, Gilli the trader, whom men call the Wealthy. It was he who first had me in my captivity.”
For a long time the chief sat tugging thoughtfully at his yellow mustache. Tyrker bent over and whispered in his ear; and he nodded slowly, with another glance at Helga.
”But for this I should never have thought of him,--yet, it is certainly one way out of the matter.”
Suddenly he made a motion with his hand, so that the circle fell back out of hearing. He turned and fixed his piercing eyes on the thrall as though he would probe his brain.
”I ask you to tell me what manner of man this Gilli is?”
It happened that Alwin asked nothing better than a chance to free his mind. He answered instantly: ”Gilli of Trondhjem is a low-minded man who has gained great wealth, and is so greedy for property that he would give the nails off his hands and the tongue out of his head to get it.
He is an overbearing churl.”
Leif's eyes challenged him, but he did not recant.
”So!” said the chief abruptly; then he added: ”I am told for certain that his wife is a well-disposed woman.”
”I say nothing against that,” Alwin a.s.sented. ”She is from England, where women are taught to bear themselves gently.”
His eulogy was cut short by an exclamation from the old German.
”Donnerwetter! That is true! An English captive she was. Perhaps she their runes also understands?”
Finding this a question addressed to him, Alwin answered that he knew her to understand them, having heard her read from a book of Saxon prayers.
Tyrker rolled up his eyes devoutly. ”Heaven itself it is that so has ordered it for the s.h.i.+eld-maiden! You see, my son? This youth here can make runes,-she can read them; so can you speak with her without that the father shall know.”
”Bring torches into the sleeping-house,” Leif called, rising hastily.
”Valbrand, take your horse and lay saddle on it. You of England, get bark and an arrow-point, or whatever will serve for rune writing, and follow me.”
What took place behind the log walls, no one knew. When it was over, and Valbrand had ridden away in the darkness, Rolf sought out the scribe and gently gave him to understand that he was curious in the matter. But Alwin only cast a doubtful glance across the fire at Helga, and begged him to talk of something else.
Late the next afternoon, Valbrand returned, his horse muddy and spent, and was closeted for a long time with Leif and the old German. But none heard what pa.s.sed between them.
CHAPTER X
THE ROYAL BLOOD OF ALFRED
Brand burns from brand, Until it is burnt out; Fire is from fire quickened.
Man to man Becomes known by speech, But a fool by his bashful silence.
Ha'vama'l
Brave with fluttering pennant and embroidered linen and sparkling gilding, amid cheers and prayers and shouts of farewell, on the third day the ”Sea-Deer” set sail for Greenland.
Newly clad from head to foot in a scarlet suit of King Olaf's giving, Leif stood aft by the great steering oar. The wind blew out his long hair in a golden banner. The sun splintered its lances upon his gilded helm. Upon his breast shone the silver crucifix that had been Olaf's parting gift. His hand was still warm from the clasp of his King's; no chill at his heart warned him that those hands had met for the last time, no thought was in him that he had looked his last upon the n.o.ble face he loved. Gazing out over the tumbling blue waves, he thought exultantly of the time when he should come sailing back, with task fulfilled, to receive the thanks of his King.