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Wulnoth the Wanderer: A Story of King Alfred of England

by Herbert Inman · English · Gutenberg #46320 · 439,924 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Wulnoth the Wanderer: A Story of King Alfred of England

Author: Herbert Inman

Illustrator: Margaret West Kinney
        Troy Kinney


        
Release date: July 18, 2014 [eBook #46320]
                Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WULNOTH THE WANDERER: A STORY OF KING ALFRED OF ENGLAND ***

 WULNOTH THE WANDERER




 STORIES OF VIKING DAYS

 Illustrated and Decorated by the Kinneys


 =The Thrall of Leif the Lucky.= By Ottilie A. Liljencrantz. Six
    pictures in full color. _Eighth Edition._

 =The Ward of King Canute.= By Ottilie A. Liljencrantz. Six pictures in
    full color. _Third Edition._

 =For the White Christ.= By Robert Ames Bennet. Four pictures in full
    color.

 _Each volume beautifully printed and bound, $1.50_


 A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers


 [Illustration: "And it was peace time in their souls, and the Princess
 Edgiva lifted her face to Wulnoth and smiled, and her eyes spoke words
 that her lips uttered not." [Page 154.]]




       Wulnoth
     The Wanderer

      A Story of
 King Alfred of England

         BY

   H. Escott-Inman

 With decorations and frontispiece
 by Troy & Margaret West Kinney


      Chicago
 A. C. McClurg & Co.
       1908




      Copyright

  A. C. McClurg & Co.

        1908

 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, Eng.

 Published October 17, 1908


 The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.




CONTENTS


 CHAPTER                                           PAGE

     I How Wyborga the Wise spoke with King
       Hardacnute                                     1

    II How Wulnoth saved Edgiva from the
       Bear                                          12

   III How Wulnoth journeyed by the Birds'
       Road                                          27

    IV The Coming of Hungwar and Hubba               39

     V Of Wulnoth's Schooling                        53

    VI Of Wulnoth's Strange Wrestling in the
       Place of Desolation                           64

   VII Of the Coming of Wulnoth to the Danish
       Sea-kings                                     75

  VIII Of what befell Wulnoth in the Halls of
       the Danes                                     87

    IX How the Sea-kings sailed for East Anglia      98

     X Of the Slaying of Edmund, the King of
       the East Saxons                              111

    XI How Wulnoth met with Wyborga again           124

   XII How Wulnoth and Wahrmund visited
       the Christian Church                         136

  XIII Of how Wulnoth met with Edgiva again         147

   XIV How Wahrmund the Dane gave his Life
       for Wulnoth                                  159

    XV How Wulnoth came to Alfred                   170

   XVI How the Men of Wessex fought the
       Danes                                        183

  XVII The Passing of Ethelred the King             195

 XVIII Of the Coming back of Guthrun                203

   XIX Of the Capturing of the Raven Banner         214

    XX Of the Hunting of the Ring                   226

   XXI Of the Gleeman who visited the Danish
       Camp                                         237

  XXII The Battle of Ethandune                      248

 XXIII How Hungwar was slain, and the
       Danes became Christians                      260

  XXIV How Wulnoth met with Guthred again           271

   XXV The Crowning of Guthred                      285

  XXVI Of the Wedding of Wulnoth and Edgiva         296

 XXVII Skoal!                                       306




FOREWORD


The song of Wulnoth, the born thrall, who was called the Wanderer; the
song of the nameless and the landless man who aided two kings to gain
kingdoms.

"The song of his friendship for Guthred the prince; the song of his
wanderings to find his friend. The song of his perils and warrings, and
of his slaying of Hungwar the Dane. The song of his friendship with
Alfred the Bretwalda of the West Saxons, and of his love for Edgiva the
Beautiful. The song of his turning to the Life Giver; the song of his
last fight with Jarl Eric, on the field of the great slaughter. This is
the song.

"And this song did Gyso the Gleeman sing by command of Edward the King,
the son of Alfred, that the name and the deeds of Wulnoth might not
perish, but be remembered by all men."




CHAPTER I

_How Wyborga the Wise spoke with King Hardacnute_


Far across the dark sea which rolls its waters to the northeast of this
England of ours, there rise the dark cliffs and frowning heights of
Norway's shores; and there, in the days of old, lived Hardacnute the
King.

Far inland did his lands extend, fair with many a fertile field where
broad streams flowed, and grim with snow-clad peaks, from which the
torrents roared and foamed their way down to the sea.

On the cliff-top his castle was built, and around, on many a height,
could be seen the halls of jarl and lord, each mighty in war, and each
owning Hardacnute as master and overlord.

By night and by day did the warders guard his towers; by night and by
day were his long ships ready to put to sea; by night and by day did a
hundred shields gleam in his halls, and a hundred spears rest beside
them; and by night and by day were there a hundred strong hands ready
to grasp the one or to prise the other. For across the dark waves was
the way of the sea-kings, and no man could say when their long ships
might come sailing from Denmark or Juteland to carry fire and sword
along the coast.

Well it became the King to be watchful; and for his watchfulness was
there now peace in the land.

A great flaxen-haired man was this King, whose blue eyes could gleam
with anger or sparkle with merriment; terrible was he in battle, and
yet mild in the hall, and dearly did he love Wulfreda his fair wife,
and little Guthred his son, who played in the great courtyard with a
tiny shield and spear, which Hald the Constable had fashioned for him.

Blue-eyed and golden-haired was Guthred, with more of his mother's
gentle nature than of his father's strong passion, so that Hardacnute
frowned sometimes, and said that the boy was too timid, and that he
feared pain; but old Hald would laugh and answer--

"Let be, O King; the tender shoot hath not the rough bark of the old
tree. Let be. Guthred will prove a brave holda yet."

Now, some way from the King's castle there dwelt a wise woman, one
who knew many things that other people could not understand, yet one
who used her power well, and did not seek to cast spells upon man or
beast; and it chanced that one day this wise woman came along the road
by the castle as the King came riding home from the hunting, with his
dogs leaping and the slain bear carried between two sturdy carls. Some
of the dogs were fierce, but they tried not to harm old Wyborga; and
the King saw, as he rode past on his great horse, that she looked pale
and weary, as if from a journey.

So the King called to one of his followers to light from his steed, and
he bade Wyborga ride with him to the castle; and he took her to the
hall and treated her with honor, and gave her food and sweet mead, for
King Hardacnute was ever kind to the old and the young, and to women.

And while Wyborga sat at meat, little Guthred came and played at her
side, and laughed up into her face, and the wise woman placed one hand
on his fair head and looked into his eyes and sighed, so that the King
said--

"Why do you sigh, O mother, when you look into the eyes of this my son?"

"Because of what I see there, O King," answered the wise woman. And the
King asked again--

"And what is it that you see, O mother?"

"A long journey to a far land, for a kingdom," answered Wyborga; and at
that the King laughed heartily.

"Why, truly, mother, that is but a little thing, for the sea is the
road of the sea-kings; and though Guthred will be king in my place
when I have passed to the storm land, yet it may well be that he will
carry fire and sword across the sea, and conquer other lands."

"Not fire nor sword will Guthred carry across the sea, O King," she
answered, "nor will he reign as king here in thy stead, though he shall
be king of a greater realm than thine. The thrall collar shall he wear,
and the thrall's part shall he play, yet shall he become a king in his
day, and a thrall shall help him to his kingdom."

Now, at that the King paused and pondered, and his brow was troubled,
but he said at last--

"Thy riddle is too hard for me, mother, and it seems dark with evil,
for how shall my son become a thrall?"

"Thrall makers ride the sea, O King," she answered. And the King said--

"Yet where shall the King be when they come, O mother?" And again she
made reply--

"The sword has a death-song for each in turn, O King."

"Now truly, mother," cried the King, "this is a hard thing you say to
me, after you have eaten at my table. Evil did I do to bring you here
as my guest."

"Not evil, O King," Wyborga answered, "but good. And now listen to my
words, O King. This thing will not be yet, and before it comes, over
the Westarweg shall come wanderers seeking food and shelter. Be they
poor or be they rich, high or low, let thy hand be to them, King, for
of their number one will be the friend of Guthred the Prince. A thrall
shall take the thraldom from the Prince, and that a thrall who shall
mate with a king's daughter; and now--I go in peace, and thanks for thy
kindness."

So Wyborga went her way, and the King pondered and was troubled. Much
that she had said he could not understand, but this one thing seemed
clear: the wise woman had foretold that foes would come and slay him
and carry his little son away into captivity, and that seemed heavy
tidings to King Hardacnute. Therefore he called in all his servants,
and had great stores of food prepared for siege, and night and day kept
watch and ward for the foe who should come across Westarweg, as they
called the dark sea.

But no foes came; not a single dark sail appeared, not a single shield
shone over the waves to catch the gleams of the sun; and at last the
King laughed away his fears, and said that surely Wyborga the Wise must
have lost her wisdom.

But in that the King was wrong, for had not Wyborga said that this
would not be yet, and that ere the foe arrived wanderers would come
seeking shelter and succor? King Hardacnute had forgotten that part of
the prophecy.

But when the summer waned and the sea grew wild with the winter gales,
when the ice came down from the North, to gleam ghost-like as it slowly
floated by, when even the bravest of the sea-kings would have trembled
to launch his stout ships--then, one day, as the pale sun died away
and the fierce tempests sprang up, the warder came to say that out on
the sea a ship of some sort was to be seen; and at that all men ran to
their posts, for perchance this might be the enemy that the wise woman
had foretold.

But when the King reached the castle walls and gazed out into the storm
wrack, there, beating and buffeted and sore tried, he saw one poor
boat, such as the fisher folk use, drifting almost at the mercy of the
tempest, and yet seeking to make its way to the shelter of Lethra Fiord.

"Now who can these be?" cried the King. "What madman would put to sea
in such a craft on such a night?" But to that old Hald answered--

"Not all who put to sea do so willingly, O King. These are some poor
castaways; and it minds me that the wise woman foretold the coming of
some such. So I will get me down to the water with some stout hearts,
and render them what aid I may."

Then the King gave permission, and Hald and his men went down and
launched one of the King's ships to the storm, and with straining oars
and slanting sail they came round and rendered help to the storm-beaten
ones, and got them safely back, and carried them into King Hardacnute's
hall and set them in his presence, so that he might see them for
himself.

And the King stared, and perchance he frowned a little, for it seemed a
foolish thing to endanger his stout hearts to rescue these travellers,
seeing that they were but three, and poorly dressed like carls, and,
moreover, two of them wore the collars of thralls.

There was a man, big and stalwart, with bold defiant eyes, and erect
head, and he had a thrall collar; and there was a woman, fair and
timid; and between them they held a child, a boy of about the young
Prince's age, but more stalwart and well-knit, and he also had around
his little neck the badge of slavery.

The three stood there waiting for the King to speak, and yet for the
moment the King made no sound, for he gazed upon that child. A bold
daring child he seemed. Tender of years though he was, his eyes were
blue as the bluest summer sky, and his long hair shone yellow gold, as
though the sun had kissed it; and the King looked and wondered, and
thought that he had never seen so fair a child, no, not even when he
looked at his own little son, Prince Guthred.

And while he sat looking, the Prince himself ran into the hall
brandishing his tiny spear and shield, and seeing a little one of his
own age, he ran to him, flourishing his baby weapons.

But the little stranger did not flinch; though the spear-head grazed
his arm, he only smiled. And then Guthred slipped and fell, and his
shield and spear went flying across the hall, so that the little
stranger ran and gathered them up and then aided the Prince, and gave
him his weapons back and stood beside him, his arm round the other's
neck, as though he were holda and noble, and not a churl's child.
Thereat the King frowned, and then he turned to the man and spoke and
asked him whence he came, and who he was, and how came he to be in the
boat, with woman and child, on such a stormy day?

"Wast thou washed away against thy will?" he asked, "and dost thou
desire to be safely sent back to thy lord?" And at that the face of the
man darkened, and the woman began to weep, while the child seized the
baby spear, and cried so that even the King heard his shrill voice--

"My father, better this than to go back now."

"Now," said the King, "truly we have a young wolf cub here. Tell me
your story, friend, that I may learn that from which you flee, and
why this child, who is little more than a babe, talks so largely of
choosing the kiss of the spear before return to that place from whence
ye came. Methinks this means that we have thralls who have fled from
their thraldom."

And then the man stepped forward, and he spoke, and his voice sounded
strong and clear; nor, though he was in the presence of the King, did
he show any fear.

"Truly, O King, this child speaks well," he said; "for there is no
going back for us. And, truly, as thou sayest, we are thralls, and
thralls who have fled from thraldom, seeing that is worse than death.
Know, O King, that I am Cerdic, the son of Elchere; and this woman is
Olfa, and this child is our son Wulnoth--"

"Thou art Saxon, then, if thy name speaks truly," said the King. "How
comes one of the name of the noble Cerdic to wear a thrall's collar?"

"This is the matter of it, O King," Cerdic answered. "Of the blood
of Cerdic am I; yet, as thou perchance knowest, the sons of Cerdic
sailed across the Westarweg to the land of East Anglia, leaving Tholk
to rule in the place where they were born. Yet Tholk was unworthy, and
made a league with Berwulf the Viking; whereat I and others rebelled,
and were therefore made landless and nameless, and the thrall collars
were placed upon us. Yet this I might have abided, though the blood of
jarls was in my veins; but this Berwulf broke his treaty, and put Tholk
to death and made himself lord in his place; and because I would not
own him he had me beaten with rods, and would have had me slain but
that I burst my bonds and struck him down with his own axe; and then,
escaping, made to the sea with my wife and my son. For it was better to
trust to the fury of the winter storms than to abide the cruel wrath of
Viking Berwulf. For six long days and nights have we battled with the
tempests, while the storm sisters have ridden around us; and then we
sighted thy walls, O King. And, now that we are here, either slay us or
send us on our way if thou canst not keep us here; but send us not back
to Berwulf, who, methinks, would be as much thy foe as mine."

Then did King Hardacnute swear a mighty oath by Thor's hammer that no
harm should come to Cerdic or his while he bided in Lethra.

"These Danish pirates," he cried, "are foes to all honest men, and each
should help the other against them. Bide thou here in safety, Cerdic,
son of Elchere, thou and thine, and no harm shall come to thee. But
as for thy thrall collar, it was put on by thy lord because thou didst
rebel against him; and it is not meet that I should take it off until
thou hast proved thyself in the man's game, making the sword sing the
death song in the ears of thy foes."

"That will I do when the time comes, O King," answered Cerdic. "For the
rest, I am content, and my service is thine."

"Thou shalt have house and a piece of land," said the King, "and my
Stallere shall allow thee grazing; and as for thy little son--"

But then a little voice spoke, and Prince Guthred ran to his father's
side, crying--

"Wulnoth must stay with me, O father. Wulnoth must stay and be my
playmate." And at that the King laughed and said that it should be so.

So this is how little Wulnoth, the child of a fugitive and a thrall,
and himself wearing a thrall collar, came to dwell in the King's hall
and to play with Guthred the Prince; and though some of the jarls and
warriors frowned and said that this thing should not be, the King took
little heed; and the Queen smiled on the boy who played with her own
son, and the two lads were happy together.

And all this time there was peace in the land, and no sign of the
viking lords coming with fire and sword; and all this time did the King
have watch and ward kept.

But sometimes, as he stood on his tower and looked over the long,
rolling waves of the Westarweg, he would think of the words of Wyborga,
and wonder within himself whether they would ever come true.

Now, this is how Wyborga the Wise prophesied evil tidings to the King;
and this is how Cerdic, and Olfa his wife, and Wulnoth their son, came
from the storm-sea to dwell in the King's land.




CHAPTER II

_How Wulnoth saved Edgiva from the Bear_


So Cerdic the Saxon took service with the King of Lethra; and the King
gave him a cottage and a piece of land, where he lived with Olfa his
wife. But Wulnoth his son was most of his time up in the King's hall
playing with the little Prince Guthred; and, though some of the nobles
frowned, a great friendship sprang up between the two children, so that
they called each other brother, and each shared the other's joys and
sorrows; and it was hard to say whether Guthred was most happy when he
was with Wulnoth in Cerdic's cottage, or Wulnoth, when he was in the
King's courtyard with the Prince.

And three years passed away with their sun and their snow, and still
it was peace in the land, and the vikings did not appear. For some had
gone to Angle Land, where there were fertile fields to be seized; and
some had followed the mighty Hrolf--who was called The Walker, because
he was so heavy that no horse could bear his weight--into Normandy to
war against Charles the Simple; and others, again, had journeyed over
the mighty river and the snow-clad mountains to carry fire and sword
into the provinces of the Romans.

And in those three years the two boys grew strong and sturdy, and now
they were each fourteen years old; yet still Wulnoth was the stronger.

If Guthred could run swiftly, Wulnoth could beat him. If Guthred
could wrestle with any son of the jarls, Wulnoth could throw Guthred.
If Guthred could send an arrow to the mark, Wulnoth could split the
Prince's shaft from feather to head; so that the King said that the
wolf cub would grow into a fine wolf one of these days and do great
deeds in the land.

And though Wulnoth could best the Prince in most things, there was
neither jealousy nor quarrellings; but the two boys loved like
brothers, though Wulnoth never forgot that he was but a thrall's son,
and wore thrall collar. The Prince would forget that, but Wulnoth never
did, and he ever spoke of his companion as "my friend and Prince."

Now, you must know that about the time that Cerdic had first come
to Lethra, the little Princess Edgiva was born; so that now she was
three years old; and throughout all the land, yea, and throughout all
wide Norway, there was not another child so beautiful as Edgiva, the
daughter of Hardacnute.

Her skin was like the pink blush of the morning sky, or the tender
leaf of the rose-bud; her teeth were like the purest pearls, and her
eyes blue as the rarest sapphire; while, as for her hair, never spider
spun thread so fine, never gold gleamed and played in the sunlight so
brightly, and never down of the thistle, or wool of the sheep, was so
soft.

The scalds sang songs in her praise, and said that when she grew up she
would be the fairest woman in all the world, fit to become bride of the
mightiest of kings.

And a dear, sweet, loving child she was, with a smile for all and
a frown for none, except those who did wrong; and of all in Lethra
she smiled most upon the little thrall-boy, Wulnoth; and Wulnoth was
never so happy, no, not even when playing with Guthred, as when he was
sitting watching Edgiva.

It was his strong brown hand that first held her as she tried to walk;
and when they bought a little pony for her, it was Wulnoth who walked
by her side and held the bridle, lest the creature should rear and
throw his precious burden.

And at this some of the lords were more angry than ever; for they said
it was a high honor for any lad to attend Princess Edgiva, and that
their sons should come before a mere churl. And perchance the King
would have listened to their speech, but that Wulfreda, the Queen, said
their daughter liked the boy, and that it was a princess's right to
choose her own servant; while as for old Hald the Constable, he laughed
until the tears came into his fierce eyes, and he cried--

"By Odin! but some people are ever jealous, let what may happen. The
boy is right, O King; and he has the thews of a young viking and the
heart of a hero; and there is no peril would touch Edgiva while Wulnoth
stood unwounded."

Hald, old and renowned as he was, had a big heart, and he did not
forget that though he was noble and jarl now, his own father had been a
churl until the day of his death.

So, despite frowns and grumblings, Wulnoth walked by the side of the
Princess; and he and Guthred called themselves her knights, and waited
upon her pleasure and delighted to do her bidding.

Now, all this time nothing had been seen of Wyborga the wise woman; for
she had been a journey to places afar, as was her custom at certain
seasons, despite her age; and the King had forgotten all about her
dark sayings, or, if ever he remembered them, it was but as the idle
tale of a poor old crone, whose wits had gone with the years that were
fled. King Hardacnute ruled wisely and well, and was at peace with his
neighbors, and the land was happy.

Only sometimes Hald and other old warriors would shake their heads when
they took counsel together, and they would say--

"The times are too easy, and the people are too slow. They forget the
hardships of war-time, and if the sword came into the land again, it
would go hard with us."

Well, one summer's day, when the fields were bright with flowers and
the corn grew high, almost ready for the reaping, and when the kine
stood knee deep in the long grass in the valleys, Prince Guthred and
Wulnoth set out for a long ramble, and between them, on her little
pony, Edgiva rode, a garland of white blossoms, which Wulnoth had
fashioned, upon her beautiful hair.

All the world seemed bright and beautiful: the sun shone, and the birds
sang, and the brooks rippled, and all seemed to say to them--"Waes
heal to you, little travellers--waes heal to the three fair ones." The
squirrels played in the branches, and the sea-birds screamed as they
passed overhead, and the great, lazy pigs grunted as they rolled in the
woodland shade, and all seemed to say--"Waes heal to the three fair
ones."

So they went through the meadow-land; and they went through the
woodland glade, where the great ferns spring up and the good people
hide from men's eyes all the day long, waiting for the gloaming, to
creep out and dance their fairy dances; and yet, though they looked
carefully and peered into many a tiny glen and sat without the least
sound for quite ten minutes, never one of the good people could they
see, but only the rabbits and the wild birds, and the little darting
lizards.

And presently they came to a dell, and there they sat and ate their
cakes, which they had brought with them, and drank from the skin of
milk, which Wulnoth had brought especially for Edgiva--for he and the
Prince would have had the cool water from the brook, only the Princess
insisted that they three, who were friends, should share all things
equally.

And while they sat there, a stick cracked in the woods, and Wulnoth
started up, ready to guard the Princess if need be: for if a stick
cracked some foot must have pressed it.

But no foe, either man or beast, came into the glade, but only an old
woman with gentle face and kindly eyes, and hair white as the snow from
the north; and this woman said, as she surveyed the children--

"Greeting to you, little ones. All good greeting to you." And they
answered her--

"All good greeting to you also, good mother."

"And who are you, and how are you called?" asked the woman; "and how is
it that a prince and princess have a thrall for their playmate?"

Then the Prince looked angry, for he did not like people to speak so
to his dear Wulnoth; and even little Edgiva looked pained. But Wulnoth
only laughed, and he made reply--

"Good mother, the great and high, if they are good and true, may hold
out hand to the poor and gain no dishonor thereby. And those who are
lowly born may take such friendship, and yet no harm be done; and so it
is in this case."

"Thou hast answered well and truly, Wulnoth, son of Cerdic," the woman
said; and at that Wulnoth stared, and demanded how she knew his name.

"I know many things," answered the woman, who was really old Wyborga
returning from her travels to her own house. "I know many things, and
this is one of them--many wonderful things."

"Tell us some more of thy wonderful things, good mother," pleaded the
little Princess. "Tell us, for we are fond of wonder tales."

"Not now, little Princess," answered the wise woman; "go on with your
play. And you, little Prince, when you get back home, say to your
father the King that Wyborga sends him greeting, and says that the time
draws nigh."

"What time, good mother?" asked Guthred curiously; but Wyborga shook
her head.

"A dark time, little Prince, for thee and for thine, of which thou
mayst not know now. But remember when sorrow and tears come, as come
they will, that manhood and honor are better than a throne. Remember
that a prince's word, and the word of every true man, must be kept,
though death be the price of the keeping. Prince Guthred, remember
this."

"Now truly, good mother," cried Wulnoth, "you do speak very hard
things; and, truly, methinks you had little need to ask our names,
seeing that without being told you have mentioned them all to us." And
at that Wyborga smiled again.

But then little Edgiva drew close to her, and she again asked her of
her wonder stories.

"Cannot you tell us even one?" she said; "not one about Odin or Thor
and the heroes who dwell in Walhalla? For these are the most wonderful
stories of all."

"Not the most wonderful, nor the most beautiful of all, little
Princess," was the answer. "I know of one far better, far more
wonderful, and far more beautiful." And at this they all three asked
eagerly what this wonderful story could be.

"Oh, so wonderful and so beautiful," answered Wyborga. "The hearing of
it turns sorrow to joy, and makes darkness become light, and weakness
turn into strength. But you may not hear it yet; for, if I told it to
you, you would not understand it. Yet this I promise, that one day you
all three shall hear it."

"And will sorrow become joy, and weakness strength, and darkness light,
when we hear it?" cried Wulnoth. And Wyborga nodded and said: "It will
indeed."

"But when and where shall we hear it?" the children asked. "Shall we
come to you again?"

"Nay," answered the wise woman; "you will hear it from other lips, and
in another land."

"But what shall be the sign that we shall hear it?" asked the Prince,
"and how shall we know that it is the story when it is told?"

"Because it will turn weakness into strength," said Wulnoth. "We are
sure to know then."

"And sorrow into joy, and darkness into light," added Edgiva. "Oh, we
shall be sure to know, brother."

"I will give you a sign," the wise woman said. And she took two little
pieces of rough wood from the ground, and with a piece of grass, she
bound them together in the form of a cross. Then she plucked a little
spray of wild thorn and wound it round her cross and held it up; and
she said, and her voice was soft and sweet, like the sigh of the summer
wind amidst the forest leaves, "This is the sign, dear children.
One day you will come to this sign, and then you will hear the most
wonderful and the most beautiful story in all the wide world; and when
you hear that, you will never want to hear of Odin or Thor any more."

Then she turned and walked away, and not another word could they get
from her. So they turned to start on their homeward way, wondering what
that strange sign could possibly mean, and what this story could be
about.

And as they journeyed on, back through the woodlands, suddenly Edgiva's
little pony stopped and planted its forefeet firmly and laid back its
ears, snorting and trembling as if with fear.

"What can be the matter with him?" asked Prince Guthred. "There is
nothing to frighten him."

"Be not so sure of that, Prince," said Wulnoth. "The pony may see more
than we can; I have heard that animals can see warlocks and wizards
when they are invisible to mortal eyes."

"Then what shall we do for Edgiva?" cried Guthred. "We must not let
warlocks harm her."

"Let me get down and pat him," Edgiva said. "I will gather him a
handful of sweet grass and then he will go on."

So they helped her to alight; but alas, no sooner had her foot touched
the ground than they heard a dreadful sound, a deep, angry growl of
rage and hate; and there, emerging from the undergrowth, with eyes
ablaze and with yellow gleaming fangs, they saw an immense old he bear,
a real wood-roamer, a honey-finder, who now was seeking for no honey.

And the pony, with a snort of terror, started off as fast as it could
go, leaving the children alone there, with the monster approaching them.

For a moment Prince Guthred stood bewildered, and little Edgiva clasped
her tiny hands in terror; for, indeed, this seemed a very dreadful
creature, and its size was so vast and its claws so long, and it seemed
to be saying to itself as it came along--

"Ho, ho! Here is a fine meal for me. This is better than risking the
swineherd's spear when I go stealing the pigs. Ho, ho! This is much
better."

Of course, the bear did not really say that; but that is what it seemed
to the children; so it is no wonder that they were frightened.

"Run, Guthred! Run! Take Edgiva and run!" screamed Wulnoth frantically.
"I will stay here and keep the bear busy."

But even in his terror Prince Guthred remembered that Wulnoth was his
friend, and it seemed a hard thing to him to run away and leave him
alone.

But Wulnoth cried again--"Run with thy sister, Prince. Edgiva must be
before all."

So Prince Guthred caught up Edgiva in his strong arms and began to run,
while Wulnoth threw a stone at the bear to make him turn his way. But
the bear did not turn; perhaps he thought that two children were better
than one--but he commenced to rush after Guthred, with great roars
of rage; and Wulnoth ran after the bear, calling him a coward and a
nithing, and bidding him stop and fight; and, as he ran, he unsheathed
his stout knife and held it ready. It was the only weapon he had, and
the stoutest hunters might have been forgiven if they had feared to
attack such a monster with no better arms. But Wulnoth did not think of
that. Edgiva must be saved, and he and that knife must save her.

And just then Guthred caught his foot in a trailing bramble, and fell,
and the bear was now very nigh them. But Wulnoth was also very near to
the bear, running so swiftly that the blades of grass had not even time
to bend beneath his weight before he had passed on, and the gleaming
knife was ready in his hand.

Now Wulnoth knew full well that the bear would not harm the others
without first rising on his hind legs--for that is the way in which the
bears always attack--and for that he was ready and waiting.

The bear stopped with a clumsy jerk just as Guthred scrambled to his
feet, and it opened its great paws wide to seize the boy. But Wulnoth
was there, and he pushed Guthred aside and darted under the bear's
paws, and buried his knife in its broad, hairy chest, once, twice,
and yet a third time, swifter than the lightning plays or the adder
darts. Then the bear roared, and strove to bite with its wide-open,
slavering jaws, and it dug its long claws deeply into Wulnoth's back,
and tore muscle and flesh to the bone. But that was all it could do. It
had no strength left, and it fell on its side and struggled and died;
and Wulnoth uttered a mighty shout of joy, and thought nothing of his
painful wounds, for he had done a man's deed and had saved Edgiva and
his friend the Prince.

And Guthred and Edgiva came to him and strove to check the blood that
dripped from his hurts, and the Princess would make him sit while she
used her own scarf for this purpose.

"Oh, Wulnoth!" cried Guthred, "surely here is the story already, for
weakness has become strength, and you have conquered the waster while I
fled like a nithing."

"Wulnoth has been brave," said Edgiva, "but you have naught to grieve
for, dear brother. As for the story, this cannot be it, for the sign of
the thorn and the cross are not here."

"Let us not worry about stories," laughed Wulnoth, and he was as happy
as could be. Indeed, his only sorrow was that Guthred had not slain
a bear also, so that they could have been alike. "Let us skin this
monster and take his coat home for the Princess to have a rug for her
feet."

So they set to work, the two boys, and though it was a long job, they
got the bear's skin, together with its mighty head and paws; and then
they found the pony again, for that was grazing in a field hard by,
and they put the skin on its back and Edgiva on the skin, and set off
again.

And when they reached the castle, and the soldiers saw the skin, they
clustered round in wonder, asking who had killed the monster. Wulnoth
would have said little, but Guthred said much, and the men caught
Wulnoth up and cried, "Skoal" to him, and carried him into the hall and
set him down before the King, and laid the head and the claws and the
great skin on the floor.

And now again Wulnoth would have said little, for he was modest and did
not like to boast, and besides, he did not want to seem braver than the
Prince, who would have done as he had done if the chance had been his.
But Guthred and Edgiva stood at the King's side and told of the fight,
and made Wulnoth show his wounds, and the King said that Wulnoth had
done a man's deed, and asked him what his reward should be.

Now, the King had expected that the boy would ask that the thrall
collar should be taken from his neck and from his father's, but Wulnoth
made no such request.

"O King," he said, "if, as thou sayest, I have done a man's deed, let
a man's weapons be given to me now, and let it be my place to guard
Edgiva thy daughter, and to sleep across the threshold at night."

Then, for a moment, the King paused and frowned, for a memory came of
the words of Wyborga that a thrall should marry a king's daughter; and
he wondered whether that thrall was to be this boy, and the king's
daughter Edgiva; for if he had thought that, though Wulnoth had slain
the bear and preserved the Princess, he would have driven his spear
through him as he stood, and so have made an end of the matter.

Then, when the jarls heard this thrall-boy's words, they cried out that
he should be beaten with sticks for his presumption.

"Shall the son of a churl be made the Princess's guardian?" they cried.
"Are there no sons of noble birth in the land, O King?"

But Wulnoth stood out, and turned and showed them the deep wounds made
by the claws of the bear, and he cried--

"Many there be more noble in the land, but are there any who would
have dared more? Did the bear wound me more lightly than he would have
wounded any man? Are these wounds less painful to the churl than they
would be to the noble? The King asked me what I desired, and I have
answered. I want no other gift, and if this may not be, then let be."

"He talks like a man," some laughed; but old Hald, who liked the boy,
answered--

"And by the hammer of Thor, he acts like one, and I am minded that our
Edgiva would have little to fear with Wulnoth the son of Cerdic as her
armed man."

"The thing shall be," answered the King, and when that was said all had
to obey. "Wulnoth shall be given sword and spear and shield, and his
shall it be to guard the Princess, and if any harm comes to her, then
his head shall pay the penalty. I have spoken, and the thing is."

So Wulnoth the boy was given the war tools of a man, and he was
appointed the guardian of the Princess, which is just what he had
appointed himself in the past, only then he had no weapons save his
knife.

But when King Hardacnute heard the message which Wyborga had sent
to him, his face grew very grave, for it showed him that if he had
forgotten, the wise woman had remembered, and that the time was drawing
near when war time should be in the land.

And also the children spoke of the wonder tale that Wyborga had hinted
at, and of the strange thorn cross which she had made; and the King
listened and answered--

"By Thor, I can make nothing of it! 'T is like her other tale, and it
may be that the one has as much in it as the other."

Now, this is how Wulnoth saved Edgiva from the bear, and how he won
the man's tools and was appointed watcher over the Princess. And this
is how Wyborga the Wise came again into the land, and showed the three
children the sign of the thorn-crowned cross.




CHAPTER III

_How Wulnoth journeyed by the Birds' Road_


So Wulnoth became the guard to watch over Princess Edgiva, and some of
King Hardacnute's warriors were wroth, and said that the thing was a
shame, and that even if it were not so, a boy like Cerdic's son should
not be given such an honorable task when many a young noble would have
been glad to accept such trust.

But though Wulnoth was indeed a boy in years, yet in stature and in
strength he was a match for many above his age, so tall and so lusty
was he. And old Hald laughed again when he heard these words, and he
said--

"The wolf cub is almost grown; let those beware its fangs who would
pull its ears."

And amongst those who were angered at the King's choice was the keeper
of the arms, Æthelmar; and he, to spite the boy, gave him the weapons
of the strongest--the heaviest spear and the weightiest sword and
shield; and he in his turn laughed and said to himself--

"Now we shall see how Hald's wolf cub will bear the weight of the toys
he has asked for."

Wulnoth knew his weapons were too heavy, but he was too proud to seek
to have them altered, and he would have borne them in patience but that
Hald saw him; and the old Constable stopped and stroked his beard, and
asked him who it was who gave him his man's tools.

"Now, these are too weighty for you," he said when Wulnoth had answered
him, "and it was but a poor trick of Æthelmar's to give such to you.
You must have lighter ones, my young warrior."

But Wulnoth answered that since he had been given these he would keep
them, and even Æthelmar should see that his strength was equal to his
task.

"Not so," said the Constable, quietly, when he heard the boy's words.
"That only comes from a proud heart, and the Princess must not be
endangered because of your pride."

"How could the Princess be endangered?" cried Wulnoth. "I do not see
that, Hald."

"Weapons that you cannot use are as if you had no weapons at all,
Wulnoth," replied Hald. "How, if you had to use that long spear, which
is too clumsy for you, or that sword which is too heavy? The Princess
might suffer harm because you could not well protect her. We must have
this remedied, my son."

And Hald was as good as his word, and gave Wulnoth man's tools more
suited to his strength, and he said--

"Let not pride make thee fall, Wulnoth. If they laugh at thee for
having these, thou canst the better show them thy skill when the day of
testing comes."

At that Wulnoth was content, and though some laughed at him, he
answered laugh with laugh, and never bore himself like a boaster, nor
was led to talk of what he could do, but he only answered when such
questions were put to him--

"One cannot say what he will do until the test comes. When the hour
is, then I hope I shall not prove a nithing, and meanwhile I cannot
do better than watch such skilled warriors as you who now laugh at my
youth."

Now, that showed that Wulnoth was wise, for had he answered angrily
he would but have been laughed at the more, and would have made
many enemies, whereas now the soldiers said that he was modest and
well-spoken, and they taught him many things relating to war; and
Cerdic his father, each day when the boy used to visit him, made him
exercise both with sword and spear, and in running and wrestling; and
Prince Guthred would exercise with him, so that he, too, might become a
mighty champion in his day, and go to the wars with his friend.

But the Prince was not so cunning nor so strong as Wulnoth, and,
moreover, he was more gentle and tender; and sometimes the King his
father would be angry, and say that he was more fitted to handle a
distaff than to hurl a spear. But the King was wrong--the boy was
gentle and kind, but his heart was brave, and he was patient, more
patient than Wulnoth even, and he who has learnt patience has learnt a
mighty lesson.

But in all this time no sign of the sea-kings was seen, though by day
and night watch was kept, and all along the coast the great beacons
were piled ready for the lighting should the long ships of the pirates
be sighted upon the waves.

And the King laughed, and said that surely Wyborga the Wise was wise no
longer, for her stories, though they were ill-omened, did not come true.

As for the skin of the wood-roamer, that was made into a foot rug for
Edgiva, and the head and the paws were placed in the King's hall, with
a rude writing beneath, made by Reinbaldus the Scald, to tell how
Wulnoth, the son of Cerdic, slew the monster with his knife.

So the days passed away, and now Wulnoth was fifteen, and his little
Princess was nigh five years old, and so beautiful to gaze upon that
the buds of the flowers would open as she passed, so that they might
look at that which was more beautiful than they were; and the wild
birds would gather o'er her head, and sing their songs in honor of the
fairest of children; and already the jarls spoke to their young sons
and bade them strive to excel in strength and in war, so that when the
time came for Edgiva to be given in marriage they might be amongst the
mightiest who should strive for her hand.

Now it chanced one day that Guthred the Prince, and his sister, and
Wulnoth her watcher went together into the woods nigh to the spot
where they had met the bear--for they feared no bear now, nor yet the
surliest of the wild boars--and while they tarried in the woodland
shade Wyborga the Wise came and greeted them, and asked how they fared.
And Edgiva went to her side and answered--

"O good mother, we fare well, but we have not yet heard the wonder
tale, nor have we found the sign--the thorn-covered cross--though we
have looked long and searched far for it."

"The sign will come, and the tale will come, Princess--all in good
time will it surely come," was the answer; and then Wyborga gathered
the three around her and told them of many things--of wonders from far
lands, of the birds' talk and the beasts' talk, and things that men
know nothing of; and while they talked there came a blowing of horns,
and the King rode by on the chase, and reined his horse and spoke to
the wise woman with kind, good humor.

"Greeting, Wyborga," he said. "Our watch fires are piled, but they are
unlighted; our warders watch, but give no alarm; our swords are keen,
but they sing no song. Surely thy wisdom was at fault when thou didst
prophesy evil for the land."

"Art thou so impatient for the evil to come, O King?" she answered
sadly. "It will come sure, if it comes slow. God moves not quickly."

"God?" answered the King lightly. "Why, Wyborga, we have many gods, of
whom Odin and Thor are the mightiest--which of them dost thou speak of?
They move fast enough for me, for they ride the storm wind so swiftly
that all the storm sisters are left far behind in their path. Which god
do you speak of, Wyborga?"

Then Wyborga stooped, and with the end of her wand which she used to
aid her steps she marked on the ground, and the marks that she made
formed a cross.

"The God of this sign, O King," she said. And at that the King shook
his head, and thought with pity that surely poor old Wyborga was mad,
for of all the gods of the Northland was there none whose sign was a
cross.

"Now, good mother," he said aloud, "I understand not thy sign. Canst
thou give me no other by which I shall know when the time is near?"

Then Wyborga bent her head in thought, and was silent for a space, and
after that she looked up and spoke, and said to the King--

"So be it. I will give you one sign, and when you see that, then be
sure that soon the sword shall sing the death song in the land."

"Good!" cried the King. "Give me this sign."

Then Wyborga pointed to where Wulnoth stood near, and she said--

"This is the sign, O King. When this boy treads the birds' road, then
be sure that the time has come." And at that the King laughed aloud.

"Now, by my beard," he said, "if that were possible, then would I do
well to slay Wulnoth, son of Cerdic, and so the evil should never
come. But no mortal foot has trodden the birds' road yet, and none
ever shall, so let Wulnoth live, and let the evil be far off; and now
greeting, mother."

"Greeting, King," she answered, and Wulnoth and the Prince cried
"Skoal" to the King, and Edgiva kissed her hand to him, and so
Hardacnute and his men rode on, laughing to themselves; for how could
old Wyborga speak of any treading the birds' road without wings? and
where was there a man in the world winged like the eagle or raven?

And Wulnoth and the Prince and Edgiva went back to the hall, and they
wondered also, pondering over the strange things spoken by Wyborga the
Wise.

And yet that which the wise woman spoke came to pass, and this was the
manner of its coming. There was in the hall of King Hardacnute a young
noble of Denmark, a dark, black-haired young holda, who had journeyed
across the mountains seeking adventure, as he said, and had been well
received and given an honorable place by the King, in spite of the
warnings of his jarls, and especially of old Hald.

"A viper stings sooner or later," said the Constable, "and a Dane plays
false. Kill the stranger or send him on, for we want no spying Haco
here."

But the King answered that a man's hall must ever be open to the
wanderer, and that it did not become brave men to be inhospitable;
and so this youth, whose name was Osbert, tarried in Lethra--a big,
bragging young giant, and over fond of the drink horn.

Now, one day, as Wulnoth stood guarding the couch of Edgiva, for she
had fallen asleep in the shade of the courtyard, lo, there came Osbert
the Dane striding along, all flushed with wine. Now, Osbert looked upon
Wulnoth with scorn, because he was a boy and a thrall, and also because
he knew that his father had smitten Berwulf with his own axe in the
hall of Tholk, son of Cerdic--for Osbert was of the blood of Berwulf.

Therefore, seeing Edgiva sleeping there and guarded by Wulnoth, Osbert
thought to make mock of the boy, and he strode up and seized Edgiva and
kissed her, so that she cried out partly in fear and partly in anger at
being so rudely aroused; and Wulnoth started forward, and presented his
spear, and cried fiercely--

"Set down the Lady Edgiva instantly, thou rude Dane, or I will pierce
thee with this spear."

Then did Osbert place the Princess down, and he drew his heavy sword,
and swung his shield from his back to his arm, and he laughed right
scornfully.

"Thou wilt pierce me, thou carl. That will we see," and with that he
made at Wulnoth fiercely.

But Hald the Constable was nigh, and when he heard the signs of strife
he seized his great sword and strode into the courtyard, and struck the
weapons apart, and demanded sternly how it came that any dared to fight
in the courtyard of the King.

"This dog insulted me," cried the Dane fiercely, "and for it, by Thor,
he shall die!"

"By Thor, he shall not die!" answered Hald, "until we know the truth of
this business; but, for that matter, thou mightest find it hard to slay
him, Dane."

So Wulnoth told how he came to have a quarrel with Osbert, and the brow
of Hald grew dark when he heard of the slight to Edgiva, who now stood
weeping, and he commanded the Dane to be carried before Hardacnute,
that the King might say his pleasure.

And when the King heard, he said sternly--

"Osbert, stranger amongst us, hadst thou been one of my people, I would
surely have had thy head smitten off. But thou art a stranger, and one
who has been my guest, and I may not do this thing. Yet this I will do.
Thy arms shall be taken from thee and broken as the arms of a nithing,
and thou shalt be scourged with rods, a blow for every tear that the
Lady Edgiva has shed, and thou shalt be driven from my lands; and if
thou comest here again, then thou shalt be slain."

And the King's word was obeyed, and the Dane's weapons were broken, and
he was scourged with rods, a blow for each tear that the Princess had
shed; and when the scourging was ended the King bade him begone as he
valued his life.

And Osbert, smarting with the beating, and mad with rage, spoke boldly
and said--

"Perchance this scourging I deserve, O King, for letting the wine horn
make me into a weakling; yet bitter shall be the price paid for it, O
King. For each blow of the rod blood shall flow, and the sword sing its
song. Now I go as thou hast said, for indeed I could not remain longer;
but be sure that thou wilt hear of me again, ere long, O King, and our
greeting will be brief."

But the King laughed scornfully. "Big words from an angry boy," he
said. "Get thee gone while thou art safe." And Osbert turned and went.

And a few days after that, Wulnoth and Guthred and Edgiva went to the
top of the great Raven Rock, from whence they could see for many a
mile, and at the foot of which the sea fretted and chafed and broke
itself into foam at the high tide; and here they sat watching the
sea-birds circle as they trod the birds' road down to the water, and up
to the crags where their nests were built.

Not a sign of living man was there; all was peaceful and calm; and
Wulnoth lay on the ground, watching the Princess, who had strayed to
gather wild blossoms, whilst Guthred cautiously bent over the height,
seeking to steal the eggs from a seamew's nest.

And while thus they were all serene and safe, suddenly a shadow fell
upon Wulnoth, and a dark face looked down upon him, and a strong hand
seized him, and the voice of Osbert hissed in his ear--

"Thou dog of a Saxon thrall--die!"

And then came the sharp bitter bite of a knife in the side, and a red
mist rose before Wulnoth's eyes, and a wicked laugh echoed in his ear.

And it seemed as though he were sinking into the storm-land, when a
sound called his spirit back, and that sound was the scream of the
Princess Edgiva. He heard also Guthred shout, and he heard Osbert cry--

"Greeting to thee, Prince. Yonder lies thy thrall friend slain, and
here is the Princess, thy sister. Go and tell thy father--for this I
spare thy life--that I have sent her to the storm-land by the birds'
road."

Then Wulnoth managed to stagger to his feet; and he saw,--oh, the
horror of it,--he saw that nithing lift Edgiva the Beautiful high in
the air, and send her over the Raven Rock into the angry sea so far
below; and he uttered a great cry, and all his strength seemed to come
back, so that he picked up his spear and hurled it, and it smote Osbert
a fierce blow in the shoulder, making him cry out and turn and flee,
plucking out the weapon and casting it aside as he went.

"Run, run," cried Wulnoth to Guthred. "Run so that the grass feels not
thy touch. Nay, not after that nithing," as the Prince was starting
after the wounded Osbert. "We have more to think of than him. Run to
the shore and bid them launch a boat and come to the aid of Edgiva. I
go to her now."

"Alas, how canst thou, my friend?" cried Guthred. "The way to the water
is long and the path hard; and even if she lives now she will have died
ere thou canst reach her."

"The way is short and the path easy," cried Wulnoth, as he cast off his
tunic. "Tell thy father, my lord the King, that Wyborga's words have
come true, for I go by the birds' road."

And with that he stood on the verge of the mighty Raven Rock, and he
saw far below, a gleam of gold in the water, as when the salmon play in
the sunlit waves; and then, while Guthred stood in wonder and silence,
he dived straight and true, speeding to the perishing Edgiva along the
birds' road.

And this is how Osbert the Dane brought trouble into the land, and how
Wulnoth fulfilled the prophecy of Wyborga the Wise.




CHAPTER IV

_The Coming of Hungwar and Hubba_


Down into the angry waves went Wulnoth, treading the birds' road; for
only thus could he hope to reach Edgiva in time to save her. Down he
went, and he smote the waves and sank, even to the very bottom of the
depths, while the surges roared and thundered above him.

Weak was he from loss of blood and sore pain, for the knife of Osbert
the Dane had bitten deeply; but strong was he with his devotion for
Edgiva, and the strength overcame the weakness.

Down, down he went; then he rose and came to the surface and shook the
water from his eyes and glanced around; and there, floating away now on
the ebbing tide, her golden hair rising and falling on the waves, he
saw the jewel of Lethra, the Princess Edgiva.

Then, cleaving the waves with strong arms, though every stroke left
a crimson stain behind it, Wulnoth pressed forward, swift as the
sturgeon takes its way. His eyes were fixed upon the fair little face,
which was now slowly sinking beneath the waves; and he gave a loud cry
and leaped sheer out of the water, as the salmon leaps when it climbs
the falls, and his right hand snatched at her and lifted her above the
water again; and then the heart of Wulnoth was very glad, for he felt
that once more he should save Edgiva.

And now back to the land he turned and on he swam, but the tide ran
fierce, and his blood oozed fast, and the way was long, and he was
faint and could swim no more. So he turned on his back and floated,
letting Edgiva's golden, crowned head rest on his bosom; and so he
stayed while the sea-birds flew overhead and called to him, bidding him
be of good cheer, for that help was coming.

And help was coming indeed; for the Prince had run swift as the arrow
flies and had cried to Hald the Constable; and now one of the King's
boats was coming over the waves, and strong arms were at the oars,
while Hald stood shading his eyes and crying--

"Holloa! Holloa! Wulnoth son of Cerdic! Holloa!"

And Wulnoth heard as one who hears a sound from afar, when sleep
presses upon his eyes; and he tried to answer but his voice was gone.
But the sea-birds aided him, for they gathered over his head, screaming
shrilly; and when Hald saw that, he knew that thither he must go, and
he gave order and the boat sped on and came to the spot, and there
floated Wulnoth, with Edgiva's head pillowed on his heart, and both
with their eyes closed as in their last sleep.

Strong but tender hands lifted them in, and strong hands urged the boat
back; and they were taken to the King's hall and tended by the Queen
herself; for Queen Wulfreda was skilled in healing. And search was made
through the land for the nithing who had done this thing; yet, though
they rode throughout all the King's borders, they found no trace of
Osbert the Dane.

And Wyborga the Wise also came, bringing medicines of her own; and so
soon the sick ones awoke from their slumber, and Wulnoth was commanded
to come before the King.

And there, in the great hall, with all the jarls around him, the King
praised Wulnoth, and asked him what he would choose as his gift, and
said that now he would take the thrall's collar from his neck.

But Wulnoth made answer, and his voice was low and sad, and he said
that the collar should not be taken from his neck, but that instead
of gifts he should be scourged, because he, being armed, and the
Princess's watcher, had suffered harm to come to her.

"Not honor, but disgrace, do I deserve, O King," he said; "for I have
proved myself a false watcher."

"Now, that may not be," cried the King, "for none would have dared to
tread the birds' road as thou hast done." But to that Hald said--

"There is reason in the boy's words, O King. Therefore let it be as he
says; but for his reward take the collar from his father's neck, and
give Cerdic five hides of good land, so that he shall be noble." And
all the redesmen said that the Constable's words were good words and
that it was a wise saying.

So the King commanded that Cerdic should be given five hides of good
land and that the thrall collar should be taken from his neck; and then
Reinbaldus the scald made a song and sang it in the great hall while
the King feasted, and this was the song he sang--

    Over the storm wave, over the swan bath,
    Cerdic the Saxon came, to Lethra fleeing
    From the fierce anger of Berwulf the viking,
    Fleeing with Olfa, and the child Wulnoth;
    Thus came young Wulnoth to fair Lethra.

    Wulnoth the boy thrall, friend of Prince Guthred,
    Straying with Edgiva deep in the woodland,
    Then came the waster roaring against them,
    Fierce in his anger, he the death giver.
    Woe for Prince Guthred! woe for Edgiva!
    Swift to their succor came Wulnoth hasting,
    Armed with a knife alone, slew he the monster,
    Dead now before them lies the wood waster.

    Nithing and traitor, Osbert the Dane came,
    Wounded with coward blow, Wulnoth the watcher,
    Cast from the Raven Rock, Lethra's Edgiva,
    Into the stormy waves hurled he the fair one.
    "Thus, tell ye Lethra's King, Osbert repays him."
    Laughter to sorrow turned when the spear bit him,
    Fleeing, like frightened hare, swiftly the Dane ran,
    Wulnoth's love token bore he away with him.

    Far 'neath the Raven Rock, in the wild swan bath,
    There is Edgiva, Edgiva the Beautiful--
    Who from the death sleep backward shall bear her?
    Who by the birds' road rushes to save her?
    Who from the angry waves bravely doth bear her,
    While his own crimson blood marks out his pathway?
    Wulnoth, Cerdic's son, Wulnoth the watcher,
    He trod the birds' road, saving Edgiva,
    Skoal then to Cerdic's son,
    And skoal to Edgiva.

Such was the song which Reinbaldus sang; and the soldiers and the
people said it was a fair song and a true song, and that Wulnoth was
worthy of honor. And they called the Raven's Rock "Wulnoth's Road,"
because of the great leap which he took thence into the swan bath to
rescue Edgiva.

Yet still Wulnoth himself felt darkened, for he reflected that he,
being the Princess's watcher, ought to have been standing on guard
rather than lying there taking his ease so that Osbert the Dane could
come upon them; and though many strove to banish such thoughts from his
mind, old Hald said--

"Let be. The boy will be all the better for thinking on it. I will
warrant me he will never now be found asleep at his post, let the watch
be as long as it will."

But now King Hardacnute was indeed grave, for here was Wyborga's
prophecy fulfilled, and he looked for the foe to come.

But no enemy came, no, not for a week, nor two, nor a full month; and
then, one morning, just as the King was beginning to think that it
was but a fable after all, far out on the Westarweg six long ships
appeared, each with its huge sail, each with its long pennon, each with
its sides bright with the long rows of shields hung over the bulwarks,
each propelled by banks of long oars; and from the foremost one
floated a mighty banner with a great black raven upon it, so that all
might know that these were ships of the sea-kings and pirates, lords
from Juteland and Denmark.

"Now," said old Hald, as he stood on the tower and gazed seaward long
and hard, "if these be the ships of Regner Lodbrok, the son of Sigurd,
it will be a hard fight and a long that we shall have; for of all the
sea-kings that carry fire and sword, there is none so mighty as the
dragon slayer."

"Methinks 't is the banner of the son of Sigurd," said the King, who
stood beside him, and old Hald nodded.

"By land or by sea, O King?" he asked. And the King mused--

"By sea if it would save the land from blood," he said, "but I fear it
will not. My word is, meet them on land."

"And ere they land, every ship that Lethra possesses will be in
flames," answered Hald. "If we must lose our ships, better to man them
and lose them in the man's game than to sit like sheep and see them
burn." And the King answered--

"Be it so."

So the war horns sounded, and the beacons blazed, and all men came
trooping in, and the women and children gathered in the King's hall,
for there alone might be found safety for them. And all the cattle were
driven into the courtyard, or else turned loose in the deep forest
where the foe would not be likely to find them.

"Guthred, my friend and brother," said Wulnoth, as he stood by the side
of the Prince, "so at last we are really to see the man's game played
and to take part in it! Is this Regner Lodbrok so mighty, then?"

"I have heard my father say that there lives no greater warrior, and
that though he is terrible in battle he is just and loves brave men,
and not cruel like some--not like his two sons, Hungwar and Hubba; for
where they go there is the cry of the woman and the child, and the
scream of the tortured one. Thou knowest that it was Regner Lodbrok who
slew the dragon?"

"Nay," answered Wulnoth. "I know not the story. Tell it to me, I pray."

"This is how the scalds have it," answered the Prince. "You must know
that this Regner Lodbrok, the son of Sigurd, loved a lady named Thora,
who was the fairest woman who ever lived--"

"Not fairer than our Edgiva," cried Wulnoth jealously, and the Prince
smiled.

"That I cannot say, seeing that Edgiva my sister is but a child, and
this lady was a woman. But be that as it may. A warlock took the Lady
Thora and carried her away, and left her guarded by a fiery dragon--a
dreadful monster whom no man could overcome because it belched out
flames at them. But Regner Lodbrok[1] heard of this, and he swore by
Thor that he would slay the monster and free the Lady Thora. So he
took skins of oxen, and thereof he made clothing to cover all his body,
from the feet to the neck, and thus covered he went to the cave and
rushed at the dragon. The monster spat fire at him, but Regner Lodbrok
held his shield before his face, and the flames scorched the skins but
harmed not him, and he buried his sword in the dragon's heart and slew
him, and freed the Lady Thora and carried her back with him."

"How brave of him!" cried Wulnoth. "Surely 't was a man's deed, and if
such a foe is coming, thou and I, O Prince, shall see some great deeds
done to-day."

"We may, Wulnoth, my friend," answered Guthred. "But remember what
Wyborga the Wise has said. In this battle the King, my father, is to be
slain, and I am to become a slave," and at that Wulnoth had no word to
say, for the grief of it was too much for him.

"Wulnoth," the Prince went on sadly, "if this thing is true, will you
promise not to forget me? And if you may, afterwards come and seek me
out and aid me. Wulnoth, we have been friends and brothers, will you
promise me this?"

"That will I promise, Guthred," answered Wulnoth. "As soon as my trust
to Edgiva is over, I will come."

"Poor Edgiva," sighed the Prince. "I wonder what fate will be in store
for her."

Now, while the boys talked, all was hurry and bustle, and Hald went to
the ships with the sailors, and King Hardacnute gathered the army on
the shore, and Cerdic, and Hith, and Æthelmar, and others went into the
hold to be able to succor the rest, should they have to flee, and then
the war horns blew again, and the ships went to sea to meet the foe.

And when they neared each other, old Hald, standing in the prow, called
across the water and said--

"Greeting, strangers! Sea-kings and pirates I trow ye are, and your
message is war; yet tell us whom we war against lest we shame you by
saying ye are nameless men."

Then a great warrior, yet a young man, standing in the poop of one of
the foremost of the foe ships, laughed and replied--

"Little care we what you call us, warrior, yet know that we are
the sons of Regner, called Lodbrok, Hungwar and Hubba, and we come
to avenge injury done to Osbert the Dane. We come to war against
Hardacnute for sheltering a thrall of Berwulf's named Cerdic and his
family; and we come to carry away a fair child Edgiva, that when she is
maiden grown she may mate with the best of the sea-kings' warriors. Now
dost thou yield?"

"Thus do I yield, you wolves of Denmark," replied Hald, hurling his
spear, but Hungwar caught it on his shield, and then the battle
commenced.

Now, we have no time to talk long of that battle, for we have to follow
the song of Wulnoth; but it was a brave and fierce one, when many
hero deeds were done, and when the sword sang its death-song again
and again. Yet in the end the ships of Hardacnute were destroyed and
his sailors perished, and the Danes ran their own ships aground, and
swarmed out to meet the forces of Hardacnute on land.

And there, on land, a mighty war was waged, and many heroes fell; yet
still the victory was with the Danes, and the men of Lethra were driven
back, leaving many slain on the seashore.

Now while this battle was raging, Wulnoth was in the King's courtyard,
when a man touched him on the arm; and the man was big and brawny and
shaggy like some wild berserker, and this man said to Wulnoth--

"Are you Wulnoth, the watcher of the Princess?" and to this Wulnoth
answered that he was.

"Then," said the man, "I have a message for thee, O Wulnoth," and
Wulnoth asked whom the message was from.

"It is from Wyborga the Wise," answered the stranger, "and thus she
says: 'Fire and sword are come, O Wulnoth, and by to-night will Edgiva
be without father or mother. Now, therefore, bring her to me, and I
will shelter her in safety, for Hungwar the Dane has sworn to carry her
off and to make her his slave child. If my words are wrong, then can
you have her back; but if they are right, then will the King know that
his daughter is spared the fate which shall befall his son.'"

Now, when Wulnoth heard this, he sped to the Queen, and he told her
all the truth. And Wulfreda answered and said--

"Now, if these words are true, and if the King my husband perish, then
shall I rejoice to have the death-song sung to me also; and if that
be so, then shall it be well that Edgiva has a friend to aid her.
Therefore, take her to Wyborga, Wulnoth."

So Wulnoth and Guthred took Edgiva the Beautiful, and carried her away
into the forest and gave her to Wyborga, and Wyborga said that they had
done well. And then said Wulnoth--

"Why should not Guthred tarry here also, good mother, so that he will
be safe?"

But Wyborga shook her head.

"Guthred must go back," she said, "for so the lines of his runes run.
But let Guthred be of good cheer and brave heart, for he shall have a
kingdom and a name in the end, and ye three shall meet again."

"When shall we meet?" cried Guthred. And for answer Wyborga again drew
the cross on the ground and said--

"When you all understand this, then shall you meet, and then shall you
be united."

And that was all she could say. So Wulnoth and Guthred hurried back,
for the blood was hot in Wulnoth's veins, and he longed to be in the
man's game. And they got back to the hall just as King Hardacnute's
men were being driven in, and there they saw the brothers Hungwar and
Hubba, the sons of Regner, mighty warriors, with long black moustachios
and sweeping hair, and arms like the stout branches of an oak.

And also there did Wulnoth see Osbert the Dane, and he cried to him in
a voice that rang over the din of the fight--

"Hi, there! Greeting to you, Osbert, nithing and attacker of little
children. Come hither, for I have a greeting for thee, unless thou dost
still fear my spear."

"By Thor's hammer!" growled Hungwar as he heard this. "Thou must answer
this, Osbert. Go thou, whilst we rest a space, and silence that wolf
cub." But Osbert looked as though he liked not his task.

Still he could not escape, and he advanced towards the keep; and
Wulnoth sprang from the wall and ran to meet him.

"Now, now, Osbert," he cried, "never have I slain a man yet, but thou
wilt do for a start!" And Osbert answered with a thrust of his spear.

But Wulnoth caught it on his shield and turned it aside, and then he
struck once, and once only, and the blow pierced through shield and arm
behind it, and Osbert gave a bitter cry and fell.

"Mercy! mercy!" he cried, and the Danes howled with anger. But the
wild war madness was in Wulnoth's blood now, and he drew his sword
and plunged it into the nithing's throat, crying out, "So shall all
nithings and Danish pirates perish!"

"By Troth!" cried Hubba, "that is a gamesome young wolf. We must have
him alive." But Wulnoth had fled back, and was let into the hold by
the men, who cried "Skoal" to him.

And then did the man's game begin again, and still the fight was with
the vikings. And Cerdic was slain by a sling stone, and one after
another of the King's champions went to the storm-world, and the flames
burst from the roofs, and the cries of the women sounded on the air,
for the vikings slew and spared none.

In the courtyard Wulfreda stood by her husband's side and shielded him
while he fought, and around him lay a ring of Danish slain. But he fell
at last, and Hubba himself smote off his head.

"This is the King's son!" cried Hungwar, seizing Guthred. "I have an
oath as regards this boy and his sister. They shall be thralls in my
castle." But to that Guthred answered boldly--

"Thou Danish pirate, though thou hast me in thy power, thou shalt never
have my sister, for she is beyond thy reach."

"That we will see," answered Hungwar. "Bind this boy with chains, and
take him to my long ship."

Then he caught sight of Wulnoth, who had fought as a man fights and was
sore wounded, and he cried aloud--

"By my beard, but 't is our little warrior wolf!--a boy, but thou must
be of us. Now, methinks, thou art the son of that Cerdic that we came
to seek, for thou hast Saxon blood in thee I will swear, and thou hast
thrall collar on. But thou art a man and we will spare thee, and thou
shalt be my servant. What dost thou say to that?"

"No servant of thine will I be, thou pirate of Denmark!" cried Wulnoth.
"Thou art a champion and a sea-king, and I but a boy and a thrall, and
only one of a few left of all Lethra's soldiers, yet thus and thus do
I answer thee." And with that he rushed at the great Dane, and smote
twice with his broken sword; and the first blow gashed Hungwar's brow,
and the second pierced his arm, so that the champion of Denmark reeled
backwards and would have fallen but that a soldier smote Wulnoth down
with his axe, so that they thought him slain.

Then did the Danes gather together all the treasure of Lethra for
their plunder, and they slew all, man, woman, and child, as many as
they found, and they set fire to each house and hall, and spread the
red flames through the land; and then they sailed away, and of all
the people they took only some fair maids and the Prince, who Hungwar
had sworn should live as a thrall, for the blows which Hardacnute had
caused to be laid upon the back of Osbert the Dane.

Now, this is how the words of Wyborga the Wise came true, and Hungwar
and Hubba carried fire and sword through the land of Lethra and took
Guthred the Prince prisoner back to Denmark when they went away.




CHAPTER V

_Of Wulnoth's Schooling_


When Wulnoth opened his eyes again he was in a cool cave, through the
entrance of which he could see the green glades of the forest, and
there before him sat Wyborga the Wise, while Princess Edgiva played
near by with a little wild fawn.

He raised himself on his elbow and glanced around in wonder, hardly
able to remember anything of what had gone beside; and Wyborga rose and
brought him a cooling drink, saying gently--

"So thou art better, Wulnoth! For many days has thy spirit hovered
between life and death, but thou hast turned back, as I knew thou
wouldst--for thy work is before thee, and thou must help to do great
things."

"What things must I do, O mother?" he asked. And Wyborga took up her
favorite symbol again--a little wooden cross--and planted it in the
earth.

"So must thou help to plant this in another land, Wulnoth," she said.
And he shook his head somewhat impatiently.

"Oh, good mother, I am weary of symbols and dark sayings. Tell me in
plain words, for as for thy cross, I can make nothing of it."

"Not yet, Wulnoth. The time is not yet," she said. "But now thou must
rest and grow strong, for there is much to do."

"And how went the fight after I was struck down?" he asked. "Methinks
there was little fighting left to do."

"All too little," she answered. "Of all in Lethra, the Danes left not
one alive saving only a few who escaped to the woods. Thy father and
mother, and the King and Queen, and Hald and all the mighty ones have
perished, and Lethra is ruin and ashes and desolation to-day. Such is
the work of Hungwar and Hubba."

"Make me strong, O mother! make me strong if thou hast any skill!"
cried Wulnoth. "For I will follow those pirates to the end of the
world, if need be, and I will bring again Guthred, the Prince, from
captivity."

"Not yet, Wulnoth. Thou hast much to learn, and Guthred has much to
learn, ere ye two meet again, for so I read your lives. Now sleep, and
when thou awakest, I will tell thee what there is to be done first."

So Wulnoth slept; and for a day and night and half a second day, he
opened not his eyes. But then when he awoke he felt strong again, and
he rose and said to Wyborga, who sat in the entrance of the cave--

"Good mother, I am strong, and I thank thee. Didst thou come and search
me out?"

"I sent one to do it, Wulnoth," she answered. "One who found thee nigh
to death and bore thee hither to me."

"And thou hast cured me! Now, mother, I am, as thou knowest, the
watcher of the Princess, and though she has no realm to come to now,
methinks she is still my Princess, and I must do my work. But then I
am sworn to seek my friend the Prince. Now both I cannot do; therefore
give me thy rede and tell me what to do."

"Wulnoth," answered the wise woman, "the Princess is very fair, and as
she grows older there will be none so fair." And Wulnoth answered that
it was so.

"Moreover, Wulnoth," said Wyborga, "methinks thou dost love her very
much." And again he answered--

"She is my Princess, and I would give every drop of my blood for her."

"Ay, truly, and methinks the Princess is fond of thee. Now, thrones
and power are small things. How wouldst thou like to give up all such
thoughts, Wulnoth, and to abide here, and perchance when Edgiva is maid
grown, to take her for thy wife?" and Wyborga looked gravely at Wulnoth.

But Cerdic's son drew himself up, and he answered quickly--

"Now, mother, that is a hard question, for of itself there would be no
better thing than to live in peace beneath the green wood with Edgiva
for my wife. But this may not be. For think, is it meet for a king's
daughter to live her life like savage maiden? and is it right for a
thrall, and a thrall's son, to ask a princess to be his mate? And is it
meet that I should do this thing, even if I might, and forget my oath
to the Prince, her brother? No, mother, this thing may not be."

Then Wyborga smiled and said--

"Thou hast answered well, Wulnoth, and this thing I said but to prove
thee. Know if thou hadst yielded still it would never have been. But
listen to my words. Thou canst not seek the Prince yet, for thou wilt
have far to go, and thou wilt have to go amongst the champions of the
earth. Thou must learn much first, Wulnoth, and be patient in thy
learning."

Then answered Wulnoth and said, "What must I learn, mother, and who
shall be my schoolmaster?"

So Wyborga went to the door and called softly, and a shadow fell before
the entrance of the cave, and there entered the wild-looking man who
had come to Wulnoth on the day of the battle.

"Wulnoth," he said, "I am Osth the berserker and the giant,"--and truly
he was a gigantic man,--"and Wyborga the Wise has bidden me to teach
thee if thou wilt be taught; but the time will be long and the work
hard, for he who would gain experience must gain it at hard cost, and
he who would conquer others must conquer self."

Then said Wulnoth, "For how long must I learn, Osth?" and the
berserker replied, "Until thou art perfect."

Then did Edgiva come to Wulnoth and place her arms round his neck,
and call him her good Wulnoth, and bid him go; and Wyborga promised
that each new moon he should come and see them in the cave. So Wulnoth
consented and went away with Osth into the high mountain, along the
goats' road, which is hard to climb and weary to walk.

And there in a cave the boy dwelt with the wild man, and he drank no
wine nor milk, but only the clear water of the stream. And he ate wild
fruit and goat's flesh; and each morning Osth set him to roll great
stones up the hill, and as fast as he got them to the top they rolled
down again, until at length he cried in anger--

"Of what use is this, Osth? The stones will not remain at the top, and
if they did they are no use there," but to that Osth only grunted, and
said he that would succeed must labor.

"It shall not be my fault if I do not succeed," thought Wulnoth, and he
set to work again, and rolled the stones all day long though he could
not see any use in it, until one day the giant said to him--

"Seest thou yon oak tree, Wulnoth? Canst pull off a branch at one
wrench?"

"Neither I nor any man could do that," answered Wulnoth; but the
berserker said--

"Try."

So Wulnoth went to the oak, and he took a firm grip on a branch and
pulled, and lo, the branch came away.

"Whence have I got this strength?" cried the youth in wonder. And the
giant answered, "Rolling stones. Each stone added a little, and each
little joined the rest, until thou canst do this. Thou must learn
another lesson now."

So Osth set him to leap the precipices and to descend from point to
point, until he was as surefooted as the goat, and then one day he bade
him strip and wrestle.

Now Wulnoth wrestled hard, but he could not throw the giant, and each
time the giant threw him so that he lost heart, and said--

"What use wrestling with thee, O Osth? I shall never conquer thee." But
the giant answered with a grunt--

"He who would succeed must labor," and again Wulnoth was silenced.

And one day there came a bear, and the giant said, "Canst wrestle with
yonder honey-finder, Wulnoth?"

"Nay," said Wulnoth. "Neither can any man." But Osth answered, "Go and
try."

So Wulnoth went to the bear, and the honey-finder rose up and opened
wide his paws. But Wulnoth took a good grip and squeezed his ribs, and
threw him down, so that the honey-finder got up and ran off grunting.
And Wulnoth said--

"Whence have I got this cunning?"

"Through being thrown by me," answered Osth. "Thou must learn another
lesson now."

And he set him pulling against himself, until at length he could take
a bullock by the horns and pull against it, and cast it over the hill,
and so, day by day, did the giant make him work until his bones ached
and his limbs grew weary, but he grew strong and mighty, and could run
all day and not stop, and climb the steepest hill, and leap the widest
chasm, and wield a club in either hand, and shatter a rock with every
blow; and after each task in which he succeeded the giant laughed and
grunted, and said that it was well.

And at every full moon Wulnoth went down to see Wyborga and Edgiva, and
it seemed to him that Edgiva grew more and more in grace each time he
saw her, until he cried to Wyborga--

"Oh, Wyborga, tell me what this thing does mean! A few months ago and
Edgiva was a child, and now she is a woman, and so beautiful that it
melts the heart to look at her."

Then did Wyborga laugh and answer--

"The riddle is not hard, Wulnoth. It is thus: For every moon that thou
hast been yonder a year has sped. Canst thou not see that thou art a
man?"

"I never thought of that, for the giant has kept me so busy," he
answered. "I have been seven months with him."

"Seven years," answered Wyborga. "So swiftly has time flown. Thou art
twenty-four, and Edgiva is fifteen now."

But then did Wulnoth look wroth, and he said--

"This is all well, mother, but what of my promise? I said that I would
seek out my friend, and here I have tarried playing for seven years,
and he is a slave. I have somewhat to settle with the sons of Regner,
and seven years have been wasted."

"Not wasted," answered Wyborga. "Thou art now fitted for thy work. And
now, before thou dost start, go and talk with Edgiva, for she has been
learning too, and she now knows the wonder tale of which I spoke, and
it has made darkness light, and sorrow has become joy, and weakness
strength with her."

So Wulnoth went to Edgiva and said--

"My Princess, Wyborga has sent me to talk with you, that I may hear the
story which she says you know. Though before she said that in another
land alone I should hear it."

"Wulnoth," answered Edgiva gently, "there is hearing with the ears, and
hearing with the heart; and which hearing thine will be I know not yet.
But sit down beside me and listen to my story."

So Wulnoth obeyed, and Edgiva told him her story, and it was such a
story as he had never thought of. For she told him how the gods of the
North were false gods, and how there was but one true God Who made
all things. And she told how this God had sent His Son, who was the
Lord Christ, and the Bretwalda of all angels; and how men had put Him
to death on the cross, and crowned Him with thorns, and how for His
love He had suffered and not destroyed them. And she spoke of how His
subjects must be lowly and gentle and forgiving and meek, until at last
Wulnoth jumped up and cried in impatience--

"What story is this you tell me, O Edgiva the Beautiful? This is a tale
for nithings and cowards! What man would stand and be buffeted and spat
upon if his hand could grasp a good sword and strike a good blow? I
like not the tale, and I like not Wyborga for telling it to thee. The
gods of our Northland were men truly, and did heroes' deeds; but as for
this Lord of thine, methinks he deserved to die for the nithing and the
coward that He was. Put such things away, Edgiva. I go to search for
thy brother. I have sworn, and I must fulfil; and thou canst either
tarry here, or, if thou wilt come with me, I will be thy servant and
thrall."

But Edgiva shook her head. "I want not servant or thrall, Wulnoth," she
said. And he asked--

"Then what dost thou want, Edgiva?"

"That I may not tell thee until thine own heart finds out, and thou
wilt never truly find out until thou dost hear the wonder tale."

"I have just heard it," answered Wulnoth, "and I have told thee that I
like it not. Fit for women and nithings perhaps, but for men and heroes
it is an idle story. Edgiva, I must go to seek thy brother."

"That I know, Wulnoth," she said. "May fortune speed thy seeking. Now
farewell."

"But what wilt thou do?" he cried. "Wilt thou tarry here with Wyborga?"

"I shall do as my Lord wills," she answered. And at that Wulnoth was
angry, for who was this whom Edgiva called Lord? What lover had sought
her in the woodlands, he wondered.

He strode away in wrath and pain, but then he thought that after all he
had no right to be angry, for he was but a born thrall, and Edgiva was
a princess.

Still, in those dark moments he knew that he loved her, and he felt
that he must go back and tell her, and beg her to let him be her
servant for ever.

So back, through the moonlight, Wulnoth went to the cave and called to
Wyborga and to Edgiva, but no answer came. Then he entered and looked
around, and no one was there!

He went into the woods and cried aloud, but only the echoes answered,
and the night owl cried, and then he sat down and wept, for he thought
that indeed Edgiva had gone to her Lord, and that he would see her no
more.

And then he went back to the cave, and there was a strange stillness
in the place, as though it mourned that Edgiva had gone--as though in
going she had taken all life and light with her; and he sat down and
wept, and cried her name aloud, and said that he loved her and would
surely die now; and then he looked up and he saw Wyborga some way off
in the wood, and she called to him and spoke--

"Listen, Wulnoth," she said. "The time for work is now, and you must
wander forth to seek for Guthred. As for Edgiva, she has gone where
her Lord wills, and some day you will meet her again, when you have
fulfilled your task."

"My task!" he cried. "What task is that, Wyborga? To find the Prince?"

"Nay, more than that," she replied. "You have said that the Lord Christ
is weakling and nithing. Now, therefore, go and search in the world,
and when you have found the strongest and the noblest, and the bravest
of all Lords, then know that you will see Edgiva again, and that your
task will be nearly done."

"But, Wyborga!" he cried. But she had gone--the darkness of the forest
had swallowed her up, and he was alone.

He went back to the giant's cave, but Osth was gone also, and he was
alone--alone without a single friend, not knowing whither to go to
search for Guthred, nor who might be the bravest and mightiest Lord
upon earth.

Now, this is how Wulnoth served seven years with Osth the giant, and
this is how he lost Edgiva the Beautiful and Wyborga the Wise.




CHAPTER VI

_Of Wulnoth's Strange Wrestling in the Place of Desolation_


For a day and a night did Wulnoth remain in that place, giving way to
his sorrow, for a strange weakness had taken possession of him, and it
seemed as though there was naught left to live for in this world. And
in the long night hours did evil voices whisper in his ear, as though
the wicked warlocks counselled him, and the storm sisters sped by on
the wind, and they also seemed to mock at him.

"Of what use is it to think of searching for thy friend?" the voices
said. "Of what use to remember Edgiva the Beautiful, who is a king's
daughter? Of what use to remember the words of Wyborga, who has mocked
thee? Thou art nameless and landless and thrall born, and hast only
thy strength and no wisdom. Go to the hills and join the nameless ones
and the masterless men, and be their leader, and spread fire and carry
sword, and make thyself a name that shall be feared, and put all these
dreams from thee. There are fair maidens to capture and strongholds to
take, and thus thou shalt be strong. But if thou dost wander after the
friend whom thou mayst never find, or seek the great one who may never
be met with, then thou shalt be known as the Wanderer only, and no
scald shall sing a song to thee."

And Wulnoth, seated there in the darkness of the forest, said to
himself that this thing was best, and that he would go and join the
nameless ones and the masterless men, and become a robber-lord to be
feared.

But when the day dawned and the night shadows fled, then the birds
began to sing in the woodlands and the earth smiled again, and better
voices came to Wulnoth and spoke in the land-breeze and sang in the
bird-song and whispered in the leaves-talk; and all these voices said--

"Why tarry here, O Wulnoth, when all the work is before thee--when the
hours pass and are not used? Look up, and rise up, and go forth and
begin."

"Yet I know not where to begin," said Wulnoth, and the voices seemed to
answer--

"One step at a time, and the longest journey is completed. Rise up and
search, for the seeker shall be the finder, if in seeking he weary not."

"Now," thought Wulnoth, "this is surely right, for I do but waste time
sitting idle, and even if I seek the masterless men, I shall not find
them by staying here."

So Wulnoth rose, and he plucked a stout branch from a tree for a
weapon, in case any sought to harm him; and he strode through the
forest and came to the road, and then he knew that it was the road he
had often walked by the side of Edgiva the Beautiful--the road back to
Lethra.

"I will go and see the King's hall," he said. "Perchance some dwell
there even now who may tell me of Guthred."

But alas, when he reached the place where Lethra had flourished, all
was silence and ashes and desolation. Here stood the blackened walls,
and there lay beam and iron, while down at the fiord, the weed-covered
wrecks of the long ships could still be seen.

No living thing was there, for the work of the sea-kings had been
thorough, and the vengeance of Hungwar and Hubba had been complete, and
Lethra was the place of desolation now.

Then a deep anger filled the heart of Wulnoth as he stood surveying the
ruins, and he cried aloud--

"I will find these pirates and make them pay for this, and I will find
Guthred the Prince and set him back on his throne, and I will find
Edgiva the Beautiful, though I have to wander the world o'er to do it."

And then a deep mocking laugh sounded, and he turned to behold who thus
jeered at his words, for tears were gone and weakness had fled, and his
heart burned for the man's game.

And there, seated amidst the dust and black ashes of the place of
desolation, he saw a man--a great and mighty man--who sat and eyed
him; and Wulnoth's heart was full of wonder, for this man was so like
himself that it was as though he looked upon his own form in the clear
forest pool or the well's cool depths.

"Why dost thou laugh at me? and who art thou who art so like myself
that thou mightest be my brother? and by what name art thou called?" he
cried. And the other laughed again.

"I am called Wulnoth, stranger," he answered. "Wulnoth, Cerdic's son,
thou talker of big words and doer of little deeds." And at that Wulnoth
answered in hot rage--

"Now in that thou liest, whoever thou art, for I am Wulnoth, Cerdic's
son."

"Thou Cerdic's son! Thou art a nithing to weep at sorrow's touch, to
faint at difficulty, and to listen to night voices. Thou Cerdic's son!"

"Now," thought Wulnoth, "who am I? Has Wyborga cast some strange spell
upon me, or did the night wanderers bewitch me in yonder forest? And if
I be not Wulnoth, then who am I?"

"Well, wanderer," this strange man said at length, "dost thou own that
thou hast spoken falsely? Dost thou still call thyself Cerdic's son?"

"That do I," replied Wulnoth. "Whoever thou art, thou art not Wulnoth."

"Whoever thou art, thou liest," came the reply. "I am Wulnoth, and
I mean to gather a band of masterless men, and in this place of
desolation to build Lethra again and here to reign as king."

"That thou shalt not," answered Wulnoth quickly. And the other laughed
and asked him why he should not.

"Because I am Wulnoth," replied he, "and because I go to seek Guthred
the Prince, and to bring him here to reign in his father's halls once
more."

"That thou shalt not," answered the other. "It seems to me, nameless
one who callest thyself Wulnoth, that there is not room for us twain
in the world, and that one of us must conquer the other. Therefore
cast aside thy club and come holmgang with me. Yea, here in the place
of desolation, with no arms but our strength, will we fight until one
shall overcome the other."

"I am well content," replied Wulnoth, and he cast aside the club. "Let
it be as thou sayest, thou who callest thyself Wulnoth and who speakest
a lie."

"Deeds, not words, thou man with a woman's tongue," growled the other;
and then they faced each other, and gripped, and swayed, and strained,
while the black ashes and the gray dust of the ruins of Lethra rose in
clouds about them.

Now Wulnoth was strong, and he thought within himself that after his
wrestling with Osth the giant, and his conquering of the bear, this
would be but an easy matter, but to his surprise he found that the
stranger was strong as he, and knew every one of his tricks, and could
match him in every way, so that Wulnoth, strive as he might, could gain
no victory.

All the day they fought, until the evening shadows crept from the
cloudland, and then they paused, and flung themselves panting on the
ground, and the stranger laughed and said--

"Well wrestled, Wanderer. Thou hast tried, but thou canst not succeed,
and when the day dawns we will fight again, and I shall conquer thee,
and then I will either slay thee or make thee my thrall, and thou shalt
know that I am Wulnoth, Cerdic's son."

"Though you conquer and slay me," answered Wulnoth, "that will I not
know. You may be warlock or mountain troll who has stolen my shape and
who uses magic against me, but Wulnoth, the son of Cerdic, you are not."

"Tarry till the morning and I will prove it," said the other. But
Wulnoth answered--

"Nay, why should we tarry; by night as by day can we fight. Come, prove
it now."

"I am hungry and weary, and desire to quaff from the wine horn," the
other replied. "Let us do that first and fight afterwards."

"Not so," answered Wulnoth. "We will make an end of this matter, and
that at once."

"Now, evil seize thee," growled the other. "For this I will surely slay
thee. Yet fight, if it is in thy mind to do so."

So they gripped again, and wrestled, and strove, yet still Wulnoth
could gain no victory; and as the night deepened, it seemed that the
other grew the stronger, so that he cast Wulnoth to the earth and
laughed and said--

"I conquer! I conquer, Wanderer, and bitter shall be the drink in
which you pledge me. Now cry for mercy."

"I cry for no mercy," answered Wulnoth, speaking short and hoarse.
"Come, let us make an end of this."

So there on the ground they wrestled, the stranger on top and Wulnoth
beneath seeking to cast him off, and so they struggled until the sun
rose; and then stronger and stronger Wulnoth seemed to grow, and weaker
and weaker the stranger became, until he fell, and said--

"I can fight no more. Thou hast beaten me. Yet thou wouldst not have
done this save for that shadow."

He pointed, as he spoke, to the earth, and Wulnoth looked and wondered;
for two of the timbers of the ruined king's hall still stood, and they
caught the beams of the rising sun, and upon the ground their shadows
fell just where the two had struggled, and the shadows formed--a cross,
the sign of the weak one whom Wulnoth had called nithing!

Then cried Wulnoth and said--

"O stranger, who didst take my name and whom I have conquered, can you
tell me this riddle, for I am weary of mysteries. Whence comes it that
yonder shadow made me strong and you weak?"

"'T is the sign of the mightiest and the strongest," answered the other,
and at that Wulnoth laughed aloud in mockery--

"'T is the sign of one who was a nithing," he said; "and yet, if it
made me strong, why did it not make thee strong also?"

"Thou wouldst not understand even if I told thee, Wanderer," was the
reply. And Wulnoth spoke again--

"Now confess that thou didst lie when thou didst take my name." But the
other replied--

"I lied not, for of a surety I am Wulnoth, Cerdic's son!"

"Now this passes all!" cried Wulnoth. "Then who may I be, if thou art
Wulnoth?"

"The Wanderer, and thou shalt wander until thy task is done. Yet
remember that again thou hast rejected the Strong, and called Him the
weak. Hither was I sent to meet thee and to conquer thee, and thou hast
conquered me. Well for thee that thou hast conquered Wulnoth, Cerdic's
son, for unless thou hadst done this, thou wouldst never have conquered
others; and it was for this purpose that Wyborga the Wise sent thee to
tarry with Osth the giant to learn strength."

"Thou wilt bewilder me with words," cried Wulnoth impatiently. "I tell
thee that I am Wulnoth. Moreover, it was Wulnoth whom Osth did teach,
and since thou ownest that he taught me, thou ownest that I am Wulnoth,
and thou provest thyself false."

"I may not explain this to thee," was the answer. "Some day thou shalt
understand it."

"Some day!" was Wulnoth's angry reply. "Why are all the good things
promised thus? The future must be stored with them, and the now has
never a one."

"The future has all golden store, Wulnoth, since so thou wilt have it.
And now farewell."

"Not so fast," cried Wulnoth. "I have conquered thee, and thou art my
man now."

"And truly so, and truly I shall serve thee even though thou mayst not
know it. Yet beware of one thing--thou must watch me, for I may yet
turn and smite thee. I tell thee, Wulnoth, that I am thy best friend
and thy worst foe--weak am I and yet I am thy strength. Seek not to
keep me now."

"Oh, go thy way! Thou art like all the rest, filled with riddles and
dark sayings. Yet before thou dost go tell me one thing, and plainly,
if it be in thee to speak to the point."

"Ask thy question," said the other. And Wulnoth went on--

"Whither must I turn to seek for Guthred son of Hardacnute, who was
King of Lethra in his day--canst thou tell me that?"

"By Hungwar and by Hubba was he carried off," answered the other. "From
them must you seek him. Seek the Danes, Wanderer, yet in seeking hold
thy counsel, for Hungwar hath a long memory, and his face still beareth
a scar of a wound made by a broken sword once in this very spot. And,
moreover, the names of Cerdic, thrall of Berwulf, and of Wulnoth, the
son of Cerdic, might be remembered. So keep thy counsel, and call
thyself the Wanderer if thou come to the Danish sea-kings." And with
that this strange man turned and hastened away, leaving Wulnoth seated
there wondering, yet sore spent with his fight.

"Now, this is passing strange," Wulnoth reflected. "Yet the advice is
good, for where shall I glean tidings of the Prince save from the Danes
who carried him off?"

Then he paused a moment and cried out--

"Now, by my word! Who so mighty and strong as Regner Lodbrok? There is
Wyborga's rede! I will seek Regner Lodbrok the Dane, and to him will I
give service."

Then he rose, and lo, his eye fell upon the shadow again, and he
frowned and shook his head.

"There is some dark rede in all this," he mused, "and I must try and
come by its meaning. 'T is but a shadow, yet as it fell upon me I grew
strong and conquered yonder strange being."

He stood pressing his feet idly into the dust and pondering, and
presently his foot struck something buried in the ashes, and he stooped
and put down his hand. And then he uttered a cry of joy, for he drew
out a mighty sword with good handle, fashioned so that the fingers
could grip it well, and with long, well-tempered blade, pointed and
double-edged, which the dry ashes, piled high over it, had preserved
bright and free from rust.

"By Thor, a right good weapon!" he laughed, as he swung it round,
making it sing its song in the air. "A right good weapon, and how it
makes the heart rejoice to feel the fingers clasp such a friend! Now
I have a long road to tread, and none can say what may befall in the
journey or at its close, yet the way is clear thus far--I must seek
Regner Lodbrok the Danish sea-king, and from him shall I glean tidings
of Guthred the Prince." And with that Wulnoth, who called himself the
Wanderer, turned from the place of desolation, carrying the great sword
in his hand.

Now, this is how Wulnoth wrestled with one who called himself by his
name, and this is how he started to seek for Regner Lodbrok, the
mightiest of all the sea-kings of Denmark.




CHAPTER VII

_Of the Coming of Wulnoth to the Danish Sea-kings_


For many days did Wulnoth journey southward, for though Lethra was nigh
the sea, and the journey over the Westarweg was the shortest road, yet
he had no boat in which to sail, and, moreover, the time of the storms
was coming, and he knew that to sail alone was to seek for death.

So by land he was forced to go, and the way was long and hard, and many
were the times that he felt he would abide where he was, and give up
this vain search.

And strange was it that whenever these thoughts came to him, then also
came the strange being who was so like himself, and he would cry to
Wulnoth to wrestle with him ere he went farther, and only when Wulnoth
had wrestled and conquered was he able to go on again.

Many were the adventures which he met with, and many the perils he
encountered, yet, still, in spite of all, he went his way over the
long, long leagues towards the southern sea, where he must perforce
take ship of some kind if he wished to reach the sea-king's land on
the other side of the wild Baltic, whereon the storm-king makes his
dwelling-place and rides in his flying palace of lightning and tempest.

He made himself a light spear of hard wood, and with this he hunted the
wild goats and the forest swine, and took their flesh for his food, and
on this and on the wild berries did he live, and for his drink he had
the runnels of clear water and nothing else.

By day he journeyed and by night he slept in the hollow trees or in
caves, living like a wild man and a berserker, and, moreover, looking
like one also, since his face was all grown with a wild beard and his
hair hung in tangled masses to his shoulders.

In those dark nights, when the storms raged and the forest groaned
beneath the buffets of the blast, evil voices called and made mock,
urging him to give up so wild a journey, but in the day time the better
voices always answered and encouraged him; and oft in his dreams Edgiva
the Beautiful would stand beside him and smile, and beckon him on,
whispering to him in tones like the sweet music of the scald's harp--

"Be brave, Wulnoth! Be patient, Wulnoth, for fame, and honor, and love,
and that which is better than fame or honor or love await thee in the
end."

And when Edgiva stood thus, it ever seemed that she ever held that
little cross of wood, bound with grass and wreathed with thorn spray,
which Wyborga the Wise had fashioned in the days long past.

So through the forests and across the mountains and over dreary wastes
did Wulnoth go, and of those whom he met his only question was whether
he was journeying towards the sea-king's land.

"Thou art going aright," he was answered each time he asked that
question. "Thou wilt come to the sea, and there thou must take ship.
But beware what thou doest in the sea-king's land, for fierce and cruel
are the vikings, and their swords sing loudly."

Once, deep in a wild forest, he met a band of masterless men, who
sprang up and seized their weapons and bade him stand, and then
demanded his name and business.

"I am nameless, and called the Wanderer," he said fearlessly. "As for
my business, that is my own alone, yet this I say, I seek the sea-kings
of Denmark."

"Then thou seekest a right jolly company," laughed the robber chief.
"Bold and daring are they, and there are no warriors to beat them. Yet
I prefer to keep my feet on the dry land and to dwell with my jolly
company here in the depths of the forest. Now, Wanderer, thou art a
goodly man, and that great sword of thine looks a goodly sword. How
sayest thou? Abide with us and be content, and thou shalt have fun and
plunder enough and to spare, and hardly a day shall pass but thy sword
shall sing its merry song while the red flames burst from the roof. The
life of the masterless man may not be so full of adventure, but 't is
also less full of peril. Not that I fear peril from the weapons of a
stout foeman, but, by Odin, I care little for the thought of being
sucked down into the depths of the sea for kraken and other monsters to
make a meal of me. Stay with us, thou Wanderer, and be of our company."

But to that Wulnoth made reply that this might not be since he had a
task to do, and might not turn from it; and the robber asked him what
his task might be.

"I want to seek out the mightiest king and the strongest lord,"
explained Wulnoth. And the robber laughed.

"Methinks thou hast a hard task before thee, Wanderer," he said. "For
yonder in the Danish land, and beyond that in the land of the Saxons,
which methinks thou must have come from, and beyond that again in the
land of the Franks, thou wilt find many who cry that they are the
mightiest and bravest; and yet, by the hammer of the great Thor, they
are mighty only because they have the swords and axes and spears of
fools who are content to shed their blood that their lords may snatch
the gain. Not so do we, where all share alike."

"Methinks, though, that old Lodbrok is truly a mighty man, if the
stories that I have heard of him are true," said Wulnoth. And the
robber nodded.

"Ay, a mighty man. I know few more so."

"But death is mightier than Lodbrok the dragon-slayer," cried another
man. And the captain answered--

"True. To the old viking, Death, all heads must bow at last, for Death
is strongest and last of all."

"Death is strongest of all!" mused Wulnoth. "Then did Wyborga mean
that if I would find Guthred and win Edgiva I must be ready to die?
If that is so, then I need not travel far, for death may be met with
everywhere."

"I warn thee of one thing, Wanderer," said one of the robbers. "If thou
goest to Lodbrok, the son of Sigurd, beware of his two sons, for they
are merciless as the edge of the sword, and fiercer than the flames in
war time. By my beard, I had rather keep beyond their reach--the hug of
the bear is gentle compared with the hand grasp of Hungwar or Hubba his
brother."

"Though Hungwar and Hubba be terrible as the storm god and fiercer than
the fire, yet I go on," said Wulnoth stoutly. "My way must be straight
as the birds' road, nor may anything turn me aside."

"Then go on and prosper, thou Wanderer of the stout heart," the
masterless men answered, "but we abide in the woods and live our merry
life."

So Wulnoth, after that he had eaten and rested and warmed himself at
the fire around which the robbers sat, their faces glowing red in
the flame light, passed on his way, his sword in hand, ready for any
dangers that might meet him on the road.

And so he journeyed day by day until he came to a town, and there the
people stared at him and asked--

"Who is this stranger with the big sword, who looks wild as a
berserker?"

And the lord of the place sent for him, and demanded his business; and
when he knew that Wulnoth sought the sea-kings out, he said sternly--

"There be not ropes enough nor trees enough whereon to hang the pirates
of Juteland and Denmark, who are the scourge of all honest peoples, and
goest thou to join them, stranger? Now methinks that I ought to hang
thee rather than let thee go on."

"There may be two sides to that, jarl," answered Wulnoth calmly. "Not
while I hold my sword will any one lightly talk of hanging me. Yet this
I say, jarl--there may be other reasons why one seeks the sea-kings
out. The flames may have burst from the roof and the sword may have
sung its song, and there may be a debt to pay, lord jarl; therefore let
me go my way."

"And go thou shalt if that is in thy mind," answered the jarl, "though
in truth thou must be a bold man if thou art going alone to such a
task."

"One may ofttimes accomplish that wherein a score would fail, jarl,"
was the reply; "therefore again I say let me go in peace, and perchance
thou mayst hear a tale one of these days, and in that tale I, the
Wanderer, may perchance play a part."

Then the jarl sent him on his way, and at length Wulnoth reached the
coast, after many long and weary days of trial; and there before him,
dark and vast, the stormy Baltic heaved, and across that dark water the
grim rock-bound shores of Denmark lay.

Now on the rocky shore a village was built, and thither went Wulnoth
to ask if he could get ship to Denmark, but not one of those who dwelt
there would listen to his words.

"Quite close enough are we to our neighbors," they said. "We have no
desire to come nearer if it may be helped, whilst as for the sea, the
storms will be sweeping it in a few days now, and we have no wish to
become food for the kraken."

"Now," thought Wulnoth to himself, "I am as far off as ever, for this
sea I must cross, and yet I cannot get ship to bear me."

And down to the foot of the dark cliffs he went, gazing across the
water, and pondering upon how he might cross it; and while he stood
there, yet once again there came he who had called himself Wulnoth, and
he stood and mocked at him and cried--

"So, Wanderer, thou hast got thus far, and now thou art stopped. Now
thou shalt wrestle with me yet once again, and I will carry thee back
to the land from which thou hast journeyed and there help thee to make
a name for thyself."

Then did Wulnoth utter a cry of anger, and he seized this man whom he
before had overthrown, and he said--

"Now am I weary of thy gibing and thy worry, thou who callest thyself
by my name, and whom I have already overthrown more than once. Now we
will indeed make an end, and if there is no other way, then will I swim
this water, but thou shalt swim it with me."

And once again they struggled there on the weed-strewn shore, and this
time Wulnoth had easy mastery--for each time they had fought he had
grown the stronger and the other had become weaker, and now he soon
vanquished him, and he cried--

"Now thou and I will swim together, and if we perish then it is done
with."

But to this the other answered, crying in terror--

"Not yet, Wanderer! Not yet! I will show thee a better way."

"And what is that way?" asked Wulnoth. "Speak quickly, for I have no
mind to tarry."

Then the other pointed out a spot to Wulnoth, and there two great bears
came slyly down to make war against a great monster of the deep--one
shaped like a seal but ever so much larger--larger than the largest ox,
with huge tusks like unto the horns of a wild bull set in its upper jaw
and protruding downwards, and with moustache like a viking lord's on
its lip.

"The bears will attack the sea-cow," said the strange man. "Now watch,
and when the battle is fierce, take thy sword and slay the bears, and
then ask the sea-cow to aid thee."

So Wulnoth watched, full of wonder, and the two bears came down and
flung themselves upon the sea-cow who had been sleeping there on the
shore, and the mighty animal made a valiant fight and smote hard with
its tusks, and the whole air trembled with the bellowings and roarings
of the strife. But the bears got one on either side, and Wulnoth saw
that the fight was going against the sea-cow and that it would be
slain. So he drew his sword and he rushed at the bears, and smote
strong strokes, so that one was slain and the other fled, leaving the
track of its blood to tell of Wulnoth's strong hand.

Then the sea-cow turned and spoke in deep hoarse tones, and Wulnoth
wondered that he could understand its speech, not knowing that Wyborga
the Wise had put this into his mind. And the sea-cow said--

"Greeting to thee, O Wanderer, and thanks for the help of thy hand and
thy sword, for without that help methinks the bears would have made an
end of me. Now, therefore, tell me what is in thine heart, and if it
may be I will do it."

So Wulnoth made known his desire to cross the water, and the sea-cow
laughed at that.

"It is a light task for me that you have set, Wanderer," it said. "Nor
will it take long to fulfil. Now get thee on to my back and hold thee
still, and I will do thy behest and carry thee to Denmark."

Then Wulnoth, greatly marvelling, obeyed, and clambered upon the
monster's broad back. And the sea-cow beat the waves with her mighty
flippers and cleaved her way through the sea, faster than the fastest
ship could sail, until the shores of the North faded and the shores of
the South grew clear, and then, beating against the wind and making for
the land, they saw a long ship with shields along the sides and the
raven banner overhead, and Wulnoth knew that it was a vessel of the
sea-kings, and he hailed it across the waves.

Now in the ship the rowers sat tugging at the oars and the leaders
gathered on the prow and looked across the water, laughing and jesting.
A big, fierce, warlike set they were, grizzled in battle and marked
with many marks of the war game; and as they talked and laughed,
suddenly over the waves rang the sound of a voice, and they stared
in fear to see a great man, shaggy as a berserker, with long yellow
hair and blue eyes, come speeding towards them upon the back of a sea
monster.

"By Thor!" cried one. "'T is surely some warlock come to do us harm. Let
us flee."

But another, who was leader of the pirates, answered with a fierce oath
and said--

"Warlock or not, I flee not from anything. If the hour of the
death-song comes, it comes, therefore round with the ship and let us go
to meet this being, who thus calls to us from out the swan bath."

So round came the ship, and near Wulnoth approached, and he cried
aloud--

"Greeting to you, viking lords; I come to meet you."

"Greeting to thee, stranger," they answered. "And who art thou who
sailest the swan bath in so strange a ship, and what dost thou want
with us?"

"I am the Wanderer," answered Wulnoth. "So am I called, for I have
wandered far, seeking that which I seek, and I have come to you because
ye perchance may know of that which I want."

"By Thor, this is passing strange," muttered the viking lord, whilst
the rowers sat open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "'T is strange, and none who
have not seen this will believe it." Then he said aloud--

"Tell me, Wanderer, what is it that thou dost seek so straitly?"

"The strongest and mightiest of lords," answered Wulnoth, "and so I
have heard Regner Lodbrok called, and hither have I come seeking for
him."

"And by the beard of Beorn, thou hast sought a right worthy lord,"
the viking replied. "For there is none more mighty than old Regner,
Sigurd's son. But he is not in his hall now. Four moons ago he sailed
to East Anglia and we await his message to join him. But his sons are
in the hall, and Hungwar and Hubba are names known to men. Also there
is the renowned Guthrun there, awaiting tidings from Regner. To these
chiefs of fame thou canst make thy story known if thou desirest. But
how comes it that thou ridest the waves in so strange a fashion?"

"Because I could get no man to let me have ship, all fearing to come
too nigh your coasts."

"Ay," laughed the vikings, "they know our greetings are somewhat rough.
But what of thy steed, Wanderer? Thou hast not told that!"

"The steed I found and rendered some service to, and for my payment he
brought me over, as you see. Now shall I come into your ship, or shall
I race you across?"

"A race, a race!" cried the vikings, and they bent to their oars, and
they stretched the sail, and flew before the wind. But swift though
they went, swifter still sped the sea-cow, and when they reached the
land, there stood Wulnoth to greet them, and the sea-cow had gone back
to the depths.

"Thou hast won the race, Wanderer," they said, "and never did man win
in stranger fashion. Yet never mind that now. Come thou with us, and
we will lead thee to our lords. And look that thou answer firmly and
without fear, and in few words, for Hungwar loveth not long speech nor
to be crossed, and the rod and the sword are his only words to any whom
he thinks nithing."

"I am well content," answered Wulnoth. "Lead the way." And so to the
sea-king's hall he was conducted.

Now, this is how Wulnoth crossed the swans' bath, and how he met the
vikings, and was led to the presence of the Danish sea-kings.




CHAPTER VIII

_Of what befell Wulnoth in the Halls of the Danes_


In the great hall of Regner Lodbrok sat his two sons who ruled in his
absence, together with many a great holda of Juteland and Denmark and
other vikings from the North who had gathered with them. The room was
long and low, and its oaken beams were black with age and smoke. Its
walls were covered with skins and horns and trophies of the chase, and
laden with shields and swords and other warlike gear.

Great torches, fixed in iron sconces, cast a smoky glare on the scene,
and on the mighty hearth a huge fire of logs burnt, and the blue smoke
curled upwards to escape through a hole in the roof.

The upper end of the room was slightly raised, and there, in carved
chairs at a table which ran crosswise the width of the hall, the nobles
sat quaffing the brown ale from their deep drinking horns.

There, side by side, Hungwar and Hubba sat, older and fiercer now than
when Wulnoth had seen them lead the attack at Lethra, and they had been
bad enough then.

Hungwar, the elder of the brothers, was shaggy as the bear, but Hubba
was smooth of face save for his heavy moustache, and on Hungwar's cheek
was a scar as of a sword cut.

And there also sat Bacseg, King of the North Danes, and Halfdane the
Fierce, and Sidroc the Cruel, and Osbern, and Frena, and Harold, all
viking lords, holdas of high birth and warriors of fame, and each was
clad in his war gear, and each had his weapons ready to hand; for words
were few and blows quick in those days, and even the feasting might
become the warring before men could understand the cause of the quarrel.

Set crosswise to the table, and running down the length of the room
like the longer line of the letter T, was another table, and here the
soldiers and the lesser leaders sat at their feasting, and the place
rang with shouts of laughter and wild jest, and ever and anon with the
music of the harp and the song of the scald, singing the praises of one
or other of the captains; and into this company was Wulnoth led by the
captain of those whom he had met.

"How now, Wahrmund!" cried Hungwar as he caught sight of the captain.
"So thou hast come back, thou old wolf; and what of thy voyaging, eh?"

"The voyage was quick and the task short, Hungwar," came the answer.
"And the men of Osric are scattered and their homes given to the flame!"

"Good!" cried the leaders as they heard. "Osric will not defy our might
again." And then Hungwar went on, staring at Wulnoth--

"But what flaxen-haired giant of the South have you here, Wahrmund? Is
this a captive from the foe? That cannot be, seeing that he is unbound
and has his sword by his side. Who is this giant, and what does he
here?"

"By Thor, he is a goodly man to look upon," cried one noble, bending
forward and staring at Wulnoth. "I love a man when I see one, and
yonder one is."

Then he raised his horn and cried to Wulnoth--

"Waes heal, stranger of the blue eyes and yellow hair," and to him
Wulnoth answered--

"Drinc heal, lord."

"Now, by Odin and his twelve companions," growled Hubba, "one would
think that we have no men in Denmark, noble Guthrun, that thou must
make so much of this berserker."

This Guthrun was a brawny, broad-shouldered giant himself, and his hair
was plaited in two long plaits which fell on either side his face, and
on his arms he had massy bracelets of gold. He seemed a good-humored
man, for he roared with laughter at Hubba's words and made answer--

"Not so, Hubba. We be men enough, and therefore we should love all men,
be they friend or foe--and, by my word, I love a good foeman. As for
being berserker, this stranger is none the worse for that in my eyes
so that he be a dealer of lusty blows."

"How came ye by this man, Wahrmund?" asked Hungwar, stopping what might
have led to a quarrel. And all listened while the viking told his tale.

And when he was done Hungwar turned to Wulnoth, who had stood there
erect and calm, and all eyes were bent upon him.

"This is a strange tale that we hear, stranger," he said. "So thou
comest to us through the swans' bath, riding a sea-monster like a
horse. By my faith, most of thy people--for surely thou art Saxon by
thy eyes and hair--most of thy people, I say, rather shun us. Now tell
us thy tale--for surely thou hast fled from some fate that thou didst
deserve. Thou art nameless and landless, I'll warrant me."

"Or else I should not come to those who take land with their sword,"
answered Wulnoth, and at this the vikings laughed, and said that surely
this was a merry fellow. But Hungwar frowned, and said sternly--

"Thou hast a sharp tongue, stranger, but we love sharp swords. Thou
hast a quick word, but we love quick deeds."

"Blow and deed will be quick enough when the time comes," Wulnoth made
answer, and he looked into Hungwar's face and noted the scar that his
sword had made in the past. "For myself, I am the Wanderer, for I
have wandered far in my search. For my place, I come from the North,
whither I was taken in my childhood after that the sword of the Dane
had harried our land. As thou sayest, I am landless and nameless, and,
moreover, a thrall--though I have rent the thrall collar from my neck,
having somewhat outgrown its size, and he who placed it there being
dead. Yet that makes little difference to thee, seeing that it is said
that thou lovest those who strike strong blows better than those who
have noble blood."

"Be it as it may. Thou hast come to serve under me, then?" cried the
Dane.

But to this Wulnoth said, "Nay. I am seeking the bravest, the
mightiest, and the noblest in the world." And at that Hungwar frowned
and smote the table.

"Thou dog!" he cried. "Am I not he?" And at that Wulnoth laughed.

"Why, Hungwar, did I say ay to that, I might have all the holdas here
flying at me or falling upon thee. Nay, I seek one whose name is
greater than even thine--I seek Regner Lodbrok, thy father." And at
that all there cried that it was well, and that Regner Lodbrok was the
champion of champions.

"So thou seekest to serve my father," sneered Hungwar. "Now, by my
beard, he who seeks such honor must of the honor be worthy. If thou
wouldst serve none but the bravest and mightiest, thou thyself must be
brave and mighty."

"Wouldst that I match myself against thee, Hungwar?" asked Wulnoth
calmly. And at that the holdas laughed, for they liked to see Hungwar
baited; but Hungwar frowned darkly.

"Thou art over bold, Wanderer," he said. "The bloodhound runs not with
the wolf."

"But the wolf sometimes pulls down the bloodhound, Hungwar," was
the ready answer. "But enough of such talk. Thou desirest to see my
strength. So be it. How shall we test it?"

Then Hungwar took up a block of wood and gave it to Wulnoth, saying--

"Let us see what thy sword is worth, Wanderer. Split me that block at
one blow." And at that Wulnoth laughed mockingly.

"Too easy a task, Hungwar," he answered. "Far too easy. Let me see thee
rend it asunder with thy naked hands."

"Thou art drunk, fool!" roared the Dane. "No man living may do that."

"We will see," answered Wulnoth, and placing the block carefully, he
bent one knee upon it and gripped it with both hands, while all there
rose to their feet to watch him. Then slowly and steadily he pulled,
and the muscles of his arms and back stood out like ropes, and he
thought within himself that his work with Osth was bearing fruit now.
And as he pulled there was a sharp sound of rending wood, and the block
fell apart in twain, while all there shouted till the roof rang at this
great deed.

"Now, by my beard!" cried King Bacseg, "but we have a mighty man here.
What sayest thou, Hubba?"

"Strong arms and strong wits go not always together. The bear is
strong, but the fox beats him in cunning."

"Now, that may be," shouted Guthrun, "but we love strong arms rather
than quick brains. Still, methinks the Wanderer is not slow of wit
either--and he brags not as some do," he added to himself.

"What other task wilt thou set me, Hungwar, son of Regner?" asked
Wulnoth. "Since I seek thy father's service, I am willing to prove that
I am worthy of it." And Hungwar frowned, for, he knew not why, he felt
hate for this stranger, and would gladly have put him to shame.

"Perchance the block was cracked," he said, "and I noticed it not." And
Wulnoth smiled and answered--

"Perchance it was."

Then he picked up an iron mace, with the handle an inch thick, and he
held it up.

"Some of you strike hard blows," he said. "Which, then, will sever this
with a clean cut with one blow of the sword?"

"I will try," cried Guthrun, for he, like all the vikings, loved trial
of strength.

So he took the mace and set it on the riven block, and with bared arms
he lifted his sword high in the air and smote with all his force, and
the sword bit deep into the iron, but severed it not.

Then tried Osbern, and after him tried Halfdane, and after him the
Norse Jarl Eric, and after him Biorn Ironsides the Mighty, and not one
of them could cut quite through the bar.

Then Wulnoth took his great sword, and he said, "Give me another bar,
for this one is much cut now, and let it be stouter and stronger."

"This braggart shall not humble us," thought Hungwar, and he sent for
his own mace, and the handle was nigh two inches thick.

"Canst cut that, boaster?" he said; and Guthrun cried out that it was
not fair since 't was twice as thick as the other.

But Wulnoth swung high his sword, and the keen blade sang in the air
like the scream of the gull as it flies before the storm. And lo, the
iron was sheered in twain, clean cut, and the block beneath it split in
two beneath the blow.

"Skoal to the Wanderer!" cried the vikings. "Worthy is he to be of our
number!" But Wulnoth said--

"Wilt set me another task, O Hungwar?"

"By Thor, I will set thee a task!" cried Hubba fiercely. "All this is
but child's play and has no danger in it. Come hither, Wiglaf."

Then uprose a mighty man, with bare arms and hairy, and he laughed
grimly.

"What is thy pleasure, Hubba?" he asked. And Hubba said to Wulnoth--

"See here, Wanderer. This man is our mightiest boxer, and no man can
stand a blow from his fist. Wilt thou exchange a blow with him?"

"That will I," answered Wulnoth. "Strike thou, Wiglaf."

"Not so," shouted Guthrun. "That were a poor test, for if Wiglaf
strikes first, how shall Wanderer have strength to strike back? Let
them fight one round if they will. By my father's name, 't will be a
splendid sight to see."

"So be it," laughed Wulnoth. "I care not," and he and Wiglaf the Boxer
faced each other.

"'T is a cruel man, Wanderer," whispered Wahrmund in Wulnoth's ear, "and
he fights not over fair. Mind thyself, for he will kill thee if he can."

"If he can," answered Wulnoth; and then the fighters faced each other,
and the vikings forgot their drinking horns and watched breathless.

For a little the pair feinted, and then Wiglaf rushed forward and
smote a mighty blow like to have felled an ox. But Wulnoth caught it
and turned it aside, and then he smote and Wiglaf could not avoid the
blow, and though he caught it on his arm, there was a sound like as of
a breaking stick, and the boxer's arm fell helpless, for the bone was
broken.

Now all the vikings started to their feet and roared that Wulnoth was
worthy to be of the best of them; and Hubba and Hungwar frowned, for
they liked not men who could do more than they dared.

Then did Wulnoth rise, and he spoke and said--

"All the tasks that you have set me I have accomplished, O holdas. Now
I will take a task upon my own shoulders, and if any of you dare try
it, then do it first. See you yon beast?" and he pointed to the open
beyond the door, where, in a fenced field, a great shaggy bull bellowed
and stamped.

"Well, what of him, Wanderer?" cried Guthrun eagerly. "What new wonder
canst thou show us? Only be careful of that brute, for he has killed
five men already."

"Which of you will go and bring yon bull to his knees with hand, and
hand alone?" Wulnoth asked. And Hungwar cried thickly--

"Thou fool, there is no man on earth can do it."

"That will we see," laughed Wulnoth lightly, and setting his sword
aside, he leaped the rails and entered the bull's field, while all
there crowded out to watch him, thinking that the stranger would of a
surety be slain now.

And the bull glared at Wulnoth with bloodshot eyes, and lowered its
massive head, pawing the ground and roaring deeply. Then, like a bolt,
it charged, and the onlookers gasped, for they thought that now the
daring man must perish. But quick as the bull moved, quicker still was
Wulnoth, and he sprang aside and let the monster pass.

Then round wheeled the animal, but Wulnoth was ready at its side, and
he gripped the wide-spreading horns and stood, and the bull stood
pushing against him, both motionless, man and animal.

"Now, by Odin!" shouted Hungwar, "the man is in a poor case, for he
cannot let go."

"And, by Odin!" shouted Guthrun, "he does not desire to let go. Look,
look! who ever saw the like of this?"

For now Wulnoth put out his strength and did as he had been taught of
old by Osth. First he pushed the bull backwards, and then he gripped
tighter and swung mightily, and the bull was jerked off its feet; and
then he twisted sharply, putting out every bit of his might, and the
great beast cried in its pain and fell upon its knees, and all the
fierceness was gone out of it.

Then did the vikings leap up and run to Wulnoth and lift him, and carry
him round on their shoulders, crying "Skoal" to him. But Hubba frowned
darkly, and bent towards his brother and whispered--

"I like not this fellow who has come to put us to shame with his
strength. We must look to this, brother."

And to that Hungwar nodded, and answered back, "Even so. But the dagger
may turn greater strength than this man's into weakness."

So the brothers spoke, and only Guthrun noticed and heard the words
they said.

Now, this is how Wulnoth showed his strength before the Danish holdas,
and this is how Guthrun knew that the sons of Regner planned evil
towards the Wanderer.




CHAPTER IX

_How the Sea-kings sailed for East Anglia_


So Wulnoth tarried in the Danish camp, and the vikings greeted him as
one of themselves, but old Wahrmund took him aside and whispered more
than once that he should beware of Wiglaf the Boxer as soon as his arm
was well.

"Wiglaf forgives no injury," he said, "and the greatest injury which
thou canst do to him is to beat him fairly. Therefore beware of Wiglaf,
O Wanderer."

"Surely a brave man should feel no bitterness against him who
overthrows him in fair fight!" answered Wulnoth. But to that Wahrmund
only said again--

"Beware of Wiglaf when he is recovered."

And that was not the only warning that was received by Wulnoth, for
Guthrun the viking lord met him, having sought such a meeting, and he
said to him grimly--

"Wanderer, I love a man who plays the man's game well and truly, but
some there be who love thee not; and if thou takest my advice, thou
wilt not tarry with the sons of Regner too long. Yet if thou hast
desire for service, my ships have places for such warriors as thou
art." And with that he went his way.

"Now," thought Wulnoth to himself, "truly this is a hard case for me.
If I tarry here, I am like to come to harm; and if I tarry not, how
shall I either meet with this champion Regner Lodbrok, or learn tidings
of Prince Guthred my friend? Truly the Lord Guthrun seems more noble
than these sons of Regner, and yet with them I must abide, methinks."

So for a week Wulnoth stayed there, and none sought to do him harm, and
even Hungwar spoke fairly to him, having somewhat conquered his anger
at Wiglaf's defeat.

But it was with Wahrmund that Wulnoth spoke most, for a friendship
had grown between them, and very cautiously did Wulnoth question the
viking, not letting him know the cause, and ask him if he remembered
aught of the conquest of Lethra.

"That do I," answered the warrior, laughing deeply, "seeing that I
fought there from first to last. And that same King of Lethra was a
hero, and fought a good fight. Methinks sometimes that 't is a pity
there is so much sword-singing between brave men. 'T is our trade, yet
sometimes I think that peace time is the best. Yea, I remember Lethra,
and I mind me of the anger of Hungwar because a boy--who by the way was
a Saxon thrall to Jarl Berwulf--smote the champion with a broken sword,
and left its kiss upon his cheek, as thou seest until this day. 'T was
my hand that cut the boy down, but by Thor, he was a proper lad, and I
have been sorry for it since."

"But there was another boy there, comrade!" said Wulnoth eagerly. "A
son of Hardacnute. What was his fate?"

The viking looked at him sharply and pondered a moment.

"Wanderer, thou knowest far too much about Lethra for thy health, if
thy questioning come to the ears of the holdas," he said sternly.
"Thus I counsel to question none save me, and if thy questions may be
answered with honor, then I will answer them. Dost know thou mindest me
of that Saxon boy, full grown now? It might be ill for thee didst thou
remind some we know of in this same way."

"Wahrmund," said Wulnoth quietly, "thou art a brave man and true,
and now I will place my life in thy hand, for of a truth I am that
boy--Wulnoth the son of Cerdic. Yet know, Wahrmund, that Cerdic was
no thrall to Berwulf, for Berwulf murdered the Saxon jarl Tholk, and
Cerdic refused to serve the Dane. And when Berwulf had him whipped,
then he smote him with his own axe and fled, and, by Thor, 't was the
deed of a man to do that!"

"Perchance so," answered the other, and then Wulnoth went on with his
story--

"Now, Wahrmund, in those days did the son of Hardacnute make friendship
with the outlaw Saxon boy, and they swore to live as brothers; and on
the day when the evil came to Lethra--this was prophesied by a wise
woman--Guthred the Prince made me swear that I would seek for him and
aid him if might be; and for this reason am I come to the camp, that of
him I might learn tidings if he is still alive."

"I remember the boy," the Dane answered. "And surely 't was a hard
thing that was done to him by Hungwar and Hubba, for they sold him as
a slave, though he was a king's son; and I have heard that his master
took him to the land of the Anglo Saxons, though in what part of that
land he dwells, if he be still alive, is more than I can tell."

"I thank thee for thy words, Wahrmund," answered Wulnoth, "and I trust
thee with my story."

"Thou mayst trust me with it, Wanderer," answered the Dane. "So long as
thou art true while thou dost stay with us, that is all I ask. If thou
go into battle with us, fight for us and not for our foes; and if thou
dost ever desire to depart, depart without striking secret blow--"

"As to that, the rede that I follow directed me to seek this camp and
serve Regner Lodbrok; and so I have no desire to fight for your foes or
against you."

"Regner tarries long in Angleland," the Dane said gloomily. "I would
that he were back to lead us himself, for the camp is broken with so
many holdas, and there is like to be mischief done ere long."

"Wahrmund," said Wulnoth, "canst thou tell me this? Dost thou know any
people who worship not the gods of the North, but One who died on a
cross?"

"Ay, that do I. 'T is the religion of most of the Anglo Saxons now. They
have forgotten their old faith, and turned to this strange one. Yet
it is a strange story, and one that touches the heart, Wanderer," he
went on; "and it hath wondrous power with them, making them merciful
to the foe and calm in face of torment and death. Some of our men have
put their captives to sharp torture to make them renounce this God
of theirs; but I have not known one succeed. They have killed their
victims, but in dying the Christians--for so they call themselves--have
sung songs of triumph. They are men indeed who can fight, and suffer,
and die, and yet this creed is the creed of a nithing. 'T is beyond
my poor wits, who know nothing of aught save the storm-sea and the
sword-song."

"And this religion is in Angleland, and Guthred is in Angleland, and
Regner Lodbrok is in Angleland also! 'T is strange. It points to my
going there also"; and Wulnoth was silent, and mused on what he heard.

Then said Wahrmund, pointing out to the water: "What ship is this which
comes speeding towards the land? Let us go down and see who these may
be who come over the swan-bath thus."

So down to the shore they went, and the ship drew near; and it was but
a small one, with a few rowers, and no shields hung on its sides; and
yet as Wahrmund looked he started and cried--

"Now here are evil tidings; for of a surety yonder man at the helm is
Bern, and Bern was the man of Regner Lodbrok."

Then the boat reached the land, and the men laid aside their oars and
came ashore, and stood with drooping heads, as those who carried heavy
tidings; and the viking cried--

"Oh, thou who art Bern, man of Regner Lodbrok, why comest thou thus, as
they that flee in battle? and where is thy master, our Holda?"

"With those who feast in Walhalla," answered the seaman. "Lead me to
Hungwar, or to his noble brother, for I have heavy tidings to tell; and
the soul of Regner Lodbrok calls aloud for vengeance, for the nithing
deed and the shame deed that were done to him."

"Now, by Thor," cried Wahrmund, "he will not cry in vain; for, if aught
of wrong hath been done to Regner the son of Sigurd, the vikings will
have a song to sing and a fire to light"; and, with that, Wahrmund
turned and guided the man to the vikings' hall; and Wulnoth followed to
hear what had befallen Regner Lodbrok.

And in the hall the holdas feasted; only some looked weary, for their
souls hungered for the man's game, and they tired of tarrying on land;
and when Hungwar saw Wahrmund enter, he cried--

"Greeting, Wahrmund! Whom dost thou bring, and why dost thou turn thy
spear head down, as if evil had come to some?"

"Evil hath come, Hungwar," answered Wahrmund. "This man is Bern, who
sailed with thy mighty father, and he hath ill news to tell to thee, O
jarl." And then the chiefs looked up, and all voices were hushed; for
they knew that the death-song had been sung for Regner Lodbrok, the old
sea-king.

And then Hungwar said, while Hubba sat silent by his side--

"So the son of Sigurd is dead, and the death-song hath been sung. Then
I will warrant that he died as a mighty hero, and that his sword sang
merrily ere he fell, and the Valkyrs were busy. Is it not so, silent
one? Speak and tell thy tale, lest I open thy lips with a touch of
fire."

"I will tell my tale, Hungwar son of Regner," the man answered. "But it
is a heavy one, and the telling of it is hard. No hero death did Regner
die, but such a death as a nithing would have deserved; and yet he died
a hero, and sang his death-song. By treachery and falsehood was he
conquered, O Hungwar, and for vengeance does he cry to thee and to all
thy people."

"Tell thy story, man," answered Hungwar grimly, "and be sure that the
son of Sigurd shall not cry in vain. Truly, our swords are weary of
idleness and our ships yearn for the waves. Tell thy story, and tell it
true, all of it, neither more nor less."

"I obey thee," answered the man; and this is the story that he told.
Eastward to Angleland had Regner Lodbrok sailed, with only a few men,
chiefs of fame, for they had not meant to tarry in the land, but to see
for themselves if it was a good land and fair, and worth the attacking.
And on the eastern coast a great storm had come, and driven them on
shore, so that the ship was wrecked and only a few escaped death. They
were in the land of the East Angles, whereover one Edmund is king; and
he at first received Regner and his companions with friendship, and
gave them gifts.

Yet some of the people murmured because of the Danes being there; and
Regner heard how in the north dwelt one Ella King of Northumbria, who
was himself of Danish blood; and thither to greet him Regner went.
But Ella liked not the coming of the stranger; for the Danes, who had
settled in the north and taken possession of the land, desired that no
more of their numbers should come to share the prize with them. So this
Ella, though he received Regner with soft speech, yet purposed to do
him harm, and plotted to take his life; yet in what manner to do so he
did not know.

Now the King had built him a high tower, called Ella's Tower, and
beneath this tower was a dungeon dark and drear; and into this dungeon
did King Ella cause a number of deadly vipers to be let loose--for he
had a mind to shame Regner Lodbrok as well as slay him, because that
this Regner boasted, and made much of his having slain the dragon and
rescued Thora the Fair from its power.

So when Regner and his friends sat at feasting, the soldiers of the
King of Northumbria came upon them and put them to the sword; but
Regner they took and bound, and cast into the vipers' tower, bidding
him, since he had slain the dragon, slay also the snakes, which were
less than the dragon. And the vipers bit the old sea-king deep and
sore, so that he knew that his death was nigh, and none were there to
sing his death-song.

And alone in the dungeon, with the biting vipers, Regner Lodbrok sang
his own death-song; and the name thereof is Krakamal; and that song is
known to this day amongst the sagas of the Northland; and that song he
sang, while the darkness gathered, and the Valkyrs carried his spirit
to Walhalla.[2]

Such was the tale that the messenger told in the hall of the sea-kings;
and when the story was finished there was silence for a short space,
and then uprose Hungwar, and Hubba rose and stood by his side, and
Hungwar spoke and said--

"Oh, holdas of Denmark, ye have heard this story, and it is a shame
tale; and the spirit of the son of Sigurd calls to my brother and to
me, and bids us take vengeance on his foes. Now, those who list come,
and those who will tarry, tarry; but, as for Hubba and me, we will
cross the Westarweg and carry fire and sword into Angleland; and from
south to north will we harry it. Now, viking lords, and sea-kings, who
comes with us?"

Then did all there start to their feet, and then did their great swords
flash out, as they cried Skoal to the memory of Regner Lodbrok; and
with one mighty voice they answered and cried--

"We will come, sons of Regner. We will man our ships and come; and from
south to north we will follow the footsteps of Regner Lodbrok, and
leave a pathway of ashes and death; and then will we take this land for
our own. But as for Ella, King of Northumbria, better for him that he
had never lived, than that he fall into our hands. For each sting that
the son of Sigurd received, he shall receive a thousand pains."

Then all was bustle and hurry in the realm; and each lord went his way
to summon his own men, and to make ready his long ships; so that never
before in all the land was so vast a fleet prepared, nor so great an
army gathered, and in no history is there a full list of names of all
the sea-kings who sailed to Angleland at that time.

There were Frena, and Guthrun, and Sidric the elder, and Sidric the
younger, and Hungwar and Hubba, all jarls of fame. And there were Kings
Godron and Halfdane, and Bacseg, and Hamond, and Oskettle--five kings
of might; and Biorn Ironsides and many champions, so that one knows
not all their names. And with them came many young warriors, the sons
of holdas, seeking to make a name, and many old vikings who had spent
their lives on the sea, and whose play was the man's game; and landless
men, and nameless men, who had joined the vikings to seek their
fortunes in land afar.

Never was such a scene; never did so many long ships lie like black
snakes on the water; never did so many shields gleam like suns, as the
light played upon them.

And in Hungwar's own ship they placed the great banner of Regner
Lodbrok, which his daughters had woven and made in the space of one
noontide; and thereon was the Raven of Odin, worked in cunning work;
and it stretched its wings and stood erect, and all men shouted that
the omen was good, and that victory would be theirs.

For this banner was supposed to be of wondrous might; and if defeat
was to come then the raven's wings drooped and its head hung; but if
victory was to be their portion, then its wings were raised, and it
stood defiant.

Such was the story; though whether any man ever saw the bird change
cannot be told. Yet afterwards, as you shall presently hear, the men
of Wessex took that banner and slew Hubba, and still the raven's wings
were spread and its head raised; so perchance the power of the magic
spell had fled from its folds.

And then all the war-horns blared, and all the sails were hoisted, and
out over the dark, rolling sea the rovers sailed; so that the ships
were as many as the forest leaves on the stream when the wind blows
among the trees.

And some sailed for Northumbria and some went south to Wessex, and
some shaped their course to land in Mercia; but Hungwar and Hubba and
those who followed with him sailed on towards East Anglia, where their
father, Regner Lodbrok, had landed at the first; and over the ship
the great raven banner streamed, and around the seamews circled and
screamed; and the wind blew the salt foam into their faces. Yet on and
on they went, until, far ahead, they saw the land lying like a cloud
upon the horizon; and Wahrmund pointed towards it, and said to Wulnoth,
who stood beside him--

"Yonder, Wanderer, is the land to which you desire to go. Yonder is the
land of the Christians; and it is a rich land and fat, where much spoil
may be gathered; and the people are soft and easy to conquer. Skoal to
the Angleland, and Skoal to the landing; for heroic deeds will be done,
and the man's game played long, and the sword sing a merry song, ere we
put to sea again, and turn our faces to Denmark."

Then nearer and nearer the ships drew; and at last they dropped the
sails and the vikings swarmed to the ships' sides, and there, ahead,
they saw the sands, golden yellow; and the warriors of the land drawn
up to drive them off.

"Now," laughed Wahrmund, "why do not these fools have good ships and
come and meet us; so that we fought on sea and kept the fire from their
land? These fools will never conquer us until they learn to fight in
ships, as we do."

So said Wahrmund; but little did he think that even then there was in
the land of the West Saxons a young man, one whose face was pale and
pain marked, who pondered the same thing, and who afterwards caused
such long ships to be built, and not only beat the Danes at their own
game, but laid the foundations of that navy, by which, in after years,
this Britain of ours has kept her proud boast and ruled the waves.

Now, this is how evil tidings came to Hungwar and Hubba, and this is
how Wulnoth sailed with the sea-kings to the land of the East Angles.




CHAPTER X

_Of the Slaying of Edmund, the King of the East Saxons_


Then the war-horns sounded their harsh defiance, and the vikings gave a
great shout of glee, and threw themselves into the shallow water, and
rushed to meet the Saxons, who also ran to drive them back.

And the battle was fierce, and great deeds were done; and from least to
greatest every man was a hero. Yet the fight was with the Danes; and
when the evening came the conquered Saxons broke and fled, and the sons
of Regner encamped with their men on the field of slaughter not far
from the coast.

And what happened in East Anglia happened elsewhere also; for the
people of Angleland were divided amongst themselves, and one king
warred with another, and each was jealous of his neighbor; so that they
were like a bundle of sticks when the binding is broken, and each fell
away from the rest. But the Danes came in mighty hosts, and if one
host was beaten then two came in its place; and all through the land
they carried fire and sword and death.

For these Danes were cruel and terrible, and knew nothing of mercy;
and neither youth, nor age, nor weakness appealed to them. The young
and the old they slew, and the fair maiden, and the old wife; and they
took the tender babes and beat out their brains, or cast them from one
to the other upon their spears. Death, and death alone, marked out the
pathway which they had trod.

Nor was this done in Angleland alone, but in every country where
the White Christ was worshipped. For these Danes were pagans, and
they looked upon those who had forgotten the old gods of the North
as nithings fit only for death, and despised them for the Lord they
worshipped, and for the priests they obeyed; and they had sworn that
they would sweep over the whole world, and wherever the worship of the
Christ was found, there they would stamp it out, and make all men bow
to Odin and swear by Thor--the gods of the North.

And near to doing this they were in Angleland and, indeed, they would
have done it but for one man, who was strong enough and patient enough
to resist them; and of that man Gyso the Gleeman speaks in his song of
Wulnoth.

Twenty thousand chosen warriors were in the camp of the sons of
Regner that night, and deep they drank and well they feasted; yet the
sentinels kept ward, and each man slept with his weapons by his side.

And Wahrmund and Wulnoth lay side by side by the fire, and talked of
the deeds that had been done that day; and from the distance, through
the night air, and above the sound of the sea, there came the ringing
of a deep-voiced bell and, faint and sweet, the singing of a solemn
song; and Wulnoth asked his companion what these strange sounds might
mean.

"'T is the calling of the Christians to prayer," the Dane said
carelessly. "And the song you hear is that which they sing to their
God, that He may give them the victory on the morrow. By Thor, I had
rather trust to a good sword and to a strong arm than to any god that
rides the storm wind."

"Yet these men fought well to-day, comrade," Wulnoth answered; "though
they were few in numbers, compared to our host."

"Ay, they fought well," replied Wahrmund. "But now let us sleep,
for there will be work to do when the day dawns. The air is shrewd
to-night."

"Take my cloak," answered Wulnoth. "For I have no mind for sleep, and
will watch by the fire."

"More fool you," replied the other; yet he took the cloak and wrapped
himself up and was soon asleep, while Wulnoth sat listening to the
distant song, and wondering where Guthred could be and what could have
become of Edgiva the Beautiful.

And then he arose and went to the edge of the wood and listened again;
and he thought that surely Wyborga the Wise had been wrong, for how
could this Lord, Whom the Saxons worshipped, be strong, when He let
His people be put to the sword?

And while he mused thus, sleep began to steal upon his eyes, until it
seemed to him that a voice spoke, and it was the voice of Edgiva crying
to him to awake; and he opened his eyes and saw a man's form bending
over his comrade Wahrmund, and holding a knife high in the air.

"Wahrmund, awake!" he cried, in warning, and the man started up.
But then like a flash Wulnoth cast his spear and smote the midnight
wanderer fair in the chest, and he fell back dead.

And Wahrmund started to his feet, and others of the soldiers, and
looked to see who this might be; and lo, it was Wiglaf the Boxer, the
man of Jarl Hungwar!

"That knife was meant for thee, Wanderer," Wahrmund said; "and I, by
wearing thy cloak, came nigh to getting it in my ribs. I owe my life to
thee, Wanderer, and I shall not forget it."

Then when the morning broke, the war-horns sounded and the men prepared
for battle; and the great ships, with their crews, stood off to go back
to Denmark; and the vikings laughed and said--

"There is no going back now. Go forward we must; and if we conquer not,
then we perish."

And it was told to Hungwar concerning Wiglaf, and he laughed darkly,
and said that Wiglaf was ever good at paying his debts, and that he was
a good man slain; but he said nothing of the shame of the nithing's
deed.

Now in the morning came messengers to the Danish camp, saying that they
were sent by Edmund, the King of East Anglia, to demand why strangers
came to his country with fire and sword, and what was the cause of
quarrel between them.

"King Edmund seeks not war," they said. "So now either give hostages
that you will dwell peaceably during your stay, or else begone."

Then loud and long laughed the viking chiefs; and Hungwar answered--

"This Edmund of thine will treat us as churlishly as he did the son of
Sigurd! Now go and bid him come and do homage to us. And tell him to
pull down his churches, and to scourge his priests away and to worship
Thor; or, by Odin and his friends, there shall be ruin and death in all
the land; and what we have done elsewhere, that will we also do here."

And then Hubba spake, and said--

"This Edmund desires hostages, and hostages shall he have"; and he
commanded that the heads of all the messengers save one should be
struck off and put in a sack. Then he cut off the ears of the last one
and bade him go back and give the heads to his king, as a present from
the sea-kings, and tell him that so he would be served, if he gave not
up his false god.

But the Saxon was noble and brave; and, though he was alone and in sore
pain, and the vikings all around, he cast the shame in Hubba's teeth,
and he said that neither the King nor his subjects would worship pagan
gods or turn from the Lord Christ, let what would follow.

"Drive him from the camp," said Hubba; and the brave messenger was
scourged away, amidst the vikings' laughter.

But Wulnoth did not laugh, for his soul was heavy and his heart
troubled; for it seemed to him that this was a shame deed to slay
messengers who did but their duty; and he could not but think that
the Saxon who had thus answered seemed nobler and grander than the
mightiest of the vikings.

Then the Danes put the battle in order, and they marched inland; and on
the next day they saw the army of the East Saxons drawn up, and they
waved their weapons, and cried in joy--

"Greeting, worshippers of the White Christ. Let Him fight for you this
day, for you need aid."

But the Saxons answered not; only as their priests passed along their
ranks they bowed their heads in prayer, while the Danes mocked.

Then the battle commenced, and the slingers cast their stones, and the
archers sped their arrows, and the light spears whistled as they were
hurled; and then the ranks of the warriors closed, and the sword sang,
and the shield received the blow, and fierce the fight raged; but still
the Danes were victorious, and drove the forces of the Saxons back,
so that they were scattered like the leaves before the wind; and at
last King Edmund himself took to flight, while the vikings, with many
shouts, spread over the land, slaying all whom they found and sending
the red flames through many a roof.

And some chosen warriors pursued the King, and Wulnoth was amongst the
number; and so hard did they press him that, at last, he sprang from
his horse and sped down the bank of a stream, and hid beneath a bridge,
hoping that the foe would pass on without seeing him.

And now happened a sad thing for Edmund the King; for there came a
young man and his wife, and they had but been married that day; and
as they crossed the bridge, seeking to escape from the Danes who were
everywhere, they espied the moonlight shining on the golden spurs of
the King; and the man crept down and saw who thus lay in the water; but
the man was a nithing who knew no shame.

For the King made him swear that he would not betray his hiding-place;
but the man and his wife fell in with the pirates, and they were seized
and brought before Hungwar who questioned them, whether they had seen
the King; and the man, to save his life and the life of his wife, led
them to the place where King Edmund lay hidden, and there the Danes
caught him and made him prisoner.

And the King when he knew who had betrayed him spoke, and laid a curse
on the bridge, and said that whoever crossed it to get married should
have that curse fall on their shoulders.

But the man who had betrayed the King did not escape, for Hungwar
ordered both him and his wife to be slain--so little was the word of
the viking to be trusted.

Then the Danes carried King Edmund back to their camp, and heavy
chains were placed upon his arms and legs, though he was a king; and
he was placed in the holdas' hall, where the chief jarls and the kings
gathered; and there they made mock of him and laughed him to scorn, and
asked him where was his Christ in Whom he trusted?

And Wulnoth was there, leaning on his spear nigh the door; and he
looked upon the face of the King standing there amidst his foes, and
thought how calm and noble he looked.

For this Edmund had the blue eyes of the Saxon, and the long yellow
hair that Wulnoth remembered so well; and his mien was lofty and calm,
and his manner that of one who feared no death, though he grieved for
the loss of his people.

And when they asked him where his Lord was,[3] Edmund the King looked
up and smiled, and his smile was one of peace, and he pointed to the
sky and made answer--

"There, in His glory, sits the Lord," he said, "and He alone is God";
and at that Hungwar cast his glove and smote him in the face.

"Thy God cannot deliver thee from even that; and how shall He deliver
thee from our wrath?" he shouted. "Now, Edmund, who wast king of this
land, I am minded to spare thy life on certain conditions. First, thou
shalt strip all thine altars and cast them down, and give the gold to
me; and if thou do it not, then be sure that I shall. Then shalt thou
do homage to me here in my camp, and call me thy overlord; and, lastly,
thou shalt sing a song to Odin and to Thor, and to the gods which were
worshipped from of old by the people of the North. How sayest thou?"

"Thus do I say, O Hungwar," answered the King calmly. "I will do none
of these things. I will not give thee the gold from God's altar; and be
thou sure that though He holds me unworthy to guard His house, He will
find a champion to do so. I will not call thee my king; and I will not
worship Thor or any false gods, for there is one God alone, and the
Lord Christ is His Son."

"Now," thought Wulnoth, "this man is mad; for what does it matter what
god a man calls on so long as he saves his life?" Yet, for all that, he
thought it shame that his captors should treat the King so.

But that was not the worst that the Danes did to Edmund of East Anglia;
for, after his words, they led him out into the midst of the camp,
and, though he was a king, they beat him and scourged him with whips
till the flesh was torn and the blood flowed; and then they asked him
whether he would deny his Lord and worship Odin as Hungwar ordered. But
the King spoke, and his voice was heavy with pain, but his reply was
without hesitation--

"My Lord was scourged for my sins," he said, "and I will be scourged
for His sake, and rejoice that it is so."

"Now," thought Wulnoth, "this beating of a brave man is a nithing
deed, and these Danes are but as ravening beasts, while this is a man
indeed." Yet he was powerless to do aught, for he was one amongst
twenty thousand.

And when the reply of the tortured King was heard, then Hungwar added
torture to torture. And they twisted his chains and placed sticks
beneath the links, until the flesh was all bruised and the bones broke;
yet still the King would give no answer, but that he bore all for his
Lord's sake.

"Surely the man is a fool," growled Wahrmund; "for why else would he
bear this torture?" But Wulnoth answered--

"Surely the man is a hero, and he defies his enemies and will not let
them triumph over him; while, as for these holdas who stand by and see
a man put to such shame, I think little of them."

"Thou hadst best say less than thou thinkest, then," said Wahrmund
significantly, "or we may have thee taking thy place beside yonder
tortured man."

"Is there no pain can wring consent from thee?" said Hungwar darkly
when again he knew that King Edmund had defied him; and the King
answered him bravely--

"There is no pain shall make me deny my Lord."

"Now be not foolish, man," cried Guthrun, who liked not this sport. "A
word will save thee." But the King answered--

"That word I will never speak."

Then Hungwar the Dane gave command, and they carried King Edmund out
and tied him to a great tree; and the vikings took their bows and their
casting spears and made him their target; and the task was to wound the
King and bring blood with each arrow or spear cast, yet not to hurt him
so that his life would be endangered.

From the morn till the afternoon did they thus torture him, until his
poor body was so cut and marred that it could not be seen for wounds
and blood; and the King's head drooped, and his eyes closed from
weariness and pain.

Now Wulnoth stood near the King, and he was filled with wonder, and
with pity, and with disgust that a brave man should be so treated; and
when the vikings rested from their sport he drew near, and he said in
low tones--

"Listen to me, O King. Save thee I cannot; but I can make an end for
thee. I will stand and cast my spear, and I will take care that it
pierces thy heart, and so sleep shall come to thee."

But the King lifted his head, and opened his patient eyes, and said--

"Nay, friend. I know that to do this would cost thee thy right hand;
and for me the end is not far off, and I can be patient. My Lord was
smitten with a spear for me, and I will suffer the spear for His glory;
He Who is stronger than the strongest will strengthen me; and from my
death will good come, for the Holy Church is watered with the blood of
her sons."

Now all this was as a dark saying to Wulnoth, and he could make nothing
of it. Only he knew that this man, who was now no more a king, and who
was now nigh to death, had something which he possessed not, something
which made him grand and glorious, and strong even in weakness, and
patient in suffering; and the King looked at him again, and spoke once
more--

"Seek thou unto Him, friend," he said. "For He giveth peace and joy for
sorrow and labor, and with Him death's darkness turneth to light."

And then Wulnoth looked again, and he saw that around the King's neck
a little cross hung. And the King asked him to lift it to his lips
that he might kiss it ere he died, and Wulnoth, wondering and fearing,
obeyed.

Then from his hall came Hungwar, and with him came Biorn Ironsides, and
Sidroc, and Frena, and many jarls, and he stood before the King and
asked him again whether he would agree to worship Odin and deny the
White Christ.

But the King opened his eyes again, and he said calmly--

"Trouble me no more, Hungwar, son of Regner. Thou hast done thy worst,
and thou hast had thy pleasure, and I have borne in silence. Now make
an end and trouble me no more, for, had I fifty lives, and each could
take a lifetime in dying, I still would not do this thing which thou
dost command, thou bloodthirsty and wicked pirate of the Northland."

Then Hungwar stamped his foot, and he dashed his fist in the calm face,
and he ordered his men to take the King and smite off his head.

For Hungwar was weary of seeing King Edmund resist, and moreover some
of the Danish holdas who were more noble of heart than he, said that
this was a shame deed which was being done in their midst, while
Guthrun said openly that though he loved to slay a man in fair fight,
he had no love for serving a hero shamefully, and that if Hungwar liked
not his words then they two would go hold holmgang together.

But that was no part of Hungwar's plans. He had no wish to have his
force divided and quarrelling as did the Saxons, and so he gave the
word; and Wulnoth was amongst those who saw the King die.

"You are to die," they told him, and King Edmund answered--

"To die is to live again."

Then they smote off his head, and so sleep came for the King of the
East Saxons.

Now, this is how the Danes beat the men of East Anglia, and put their
king to the torture.[4]




CHAPTER XI

_How Wulnoth met with Wyborga again_


Now after the slaying of Edmund the King, the Danes cast his body into
a field as though it were but the body of some base-born slave, and
even those who had cried shame forgot all about it, and went back to
their feasting; for what was one foe more or less? And as to burying
the body, the viking lords were too busy slaying to think of burying,
and the dogs and the crows would soon make an end of the corpse.

But the heart of Wulnoth was heavy within him at this murder, for so he
felt it was, and he thought within himself that these Danes were ill
masters to serve. Yet he would not leave them, because he knew not whom
else to follow, and also because he felt in his heart that there was
a matter yet to be settled between Hungwar and himself; and moreover,
unless he tarried, how should he ever learn the fate of Guthred his
friend?

Now that night all over the land there shone the glare of flames,
telling of the work which was being done by the Danish bands, but in
the camp the leaders stayed and feasted.

Some were for pushing on at once, but Hungwar was too cunning for
that, and he said that it was ill to put too great a distance between
themselves and the sea until their ships returned with more of their
men, seeing that they were safe where they were.

"The army of the East Saxons is destroyed," he said, "and will not come
against us again; therefore here will we abide for the time, and the
people shall serve us, and presently we will march into Mercia and join
our brethren there."

Most agreed to this, but some grumbled, and in the end left Hungwar and
marched inland, and amongst these was Hubba, but that was not yet.

Now on the night of the killing of the King, Wulnoth took his spear
in his hand, and, with his sword by his side, he wandered into the
darkness, for his mind was full of restless thoughts, and he cared not
whither his feet bore him.

And as he went he thought of Wyborga and the little cross she had made,
and the wonder tale which Edgiva had told him, and of the way in which
the King had died for his Lord; and he wondered also whether the tales
of the gods of the Northland were true tales or false, and he wondered
whither he must go to seek the strongest and the mightiest lord, now
that old Regner Lodbrok was dead.

And as he wandered he came to a wood, and he entered its darkness and
solitude, for he had little fear of meeting any foe, all having fled
far from the Danes, and only the churls remaining, and they would be
more afraid of him than he need be of them.

It was quiet here, and reminded him of the woods in distant Lethra,
where he had walked with Edgiva the Beautiful in the happy days. And
the Danes had destroyed Lethra and laid it in ruins--and yet he was
serving with the Danes! Wulnoth shook his spear at that thought, and he
said aloud--

"Yet for the while I will tarry, and presently I will speak a word with
the sons of Regner for the deeds they have done to those dear to me,
and then shall Hungwar know who the Wanderer is and why he has joined
him."

And then he paused and stared in wonder, thinking that some night hag
must be playing with him, for from the darkness came the voice of
Edgiva the Beautiful, and it said--

"Greeting, Wanderer, who wast called Wulnoth!"

"Who art thou who callest to me with the voice of my Princess?" he
cried. "Whoever thou art, good or evil, show thyself I command thee by
the name of Thor."

"Little care I for that name, Wanderer," the voice answered, and then
there was silence, and he called again and again, but without success.

Then just as he would have turned back, another voice spoke and said--

"Greeting, Wulnoth!" and this time he made out a figure coming towards
him. And he sprang forward and caught at it, saying--

"Now who art thou who walkest by night and callest greeting to me?"

"One whom thou hast known as a friend, Wulnoth," came the reply, and
Wulnoth knew the voice then for that of Wyborga the Wise, and he cried,
trembling with eagerness--

"O Wyborga, is it thou? How dost thou come into this land? Then I was
not deceived when I thought that my Princess spoke to me not long
since! O Wyborga, lead me to her, for I have sought her with a long and
weary seeking, and my heart failed me at last."

But Wyborga answered--

"No, Wulnoth, for it has already been told to thee that you two will
not meet again to abide until thou hast learnt the wonder tale, which
thou hast till now rejected."

"The story of the White Christ?" said Wulnoth. "Oh, Wyborga, I have
heard that tale, but it seems to me an idle saga and fit for nithings."

"Wulnoth," said Wyborga gravely, "there was one in yonder camp of
murderers who was not a nithing, and yet who believed in that tale."

"The Saxon King!" he said. "Ah, Wyborga, I dare not ask thee how thou
dost know that, for thou knowest so many things, thou woman of mystery.
But this I say--that King was a brave man, and they who put him to
shame are cowards even though they are brave in the war game."

"Tell me how he died, Wulnoth," said Wyborga. "Tell me all." And he
obeyed, while Wyborga listened with bent head and with many a sigh.

"So does the Lord desire of His people," she said when he finished,
"and so does Edmund gain a better crown than the golden one of earth."

"I understand not your words," Wulnoth made answer. "They are still
dark with mystery--all the world is a puzzle to me now, and where to
seek for Guthred the Prince I know not. Cannot you speak clearly to me,
Wyborga?"

"Edgiva spoke clearly, Wulnoth, but you could not understand her tale."

"But that was of the White Christ," he cried. "Does everything refer to
Him?" And Wyborga said--

"Everything is to Him."

Then there was silence for a space, and Wulnoth spoke again and asked
of Edgiva; and Wyborga made reply and inquired whether he would like to
see her.

"To see Edgiva, O Wyborga!" he cried. "I would do anything to see my
Princess again." And Wyborga nodded.

"Now I will test thee, Wulnoth, and there shall be nothing of dishonor
in my request. Tell me first, where is the body of the King?"

This Wulnoth told to her, and then Wyborga said--

"Now listen, Wulnoth. Thou art to stand here without moving, and there
will come to thee a man. Him thou must lead stealthily into the camp,
and if any meet thee, thou must pass him off as a companion. Canst thou
do this?"

"Easily can it be done, Wyborga, for the camp is feasting now, and only
the watchers are at their posts."

"That is good, then," the wise woman replied. "Now thou must guide this
man, asking no questions, to the place where the dead King is thrown,
and thou must help him to bear the body without the camp. Wilt thou do
this?"

"Yea, Wyborga, for there is no harm in it; and if, as I suppose, this
man is the King's man, seeking to do honor to the dead, then will I
gladly do it. But how may I see Edgiva?"

"When thy work is done the reward shall be sure, Wulnoth. The man
who will go with thee will tell thee how and when thou shalt see the
Princess."

But then an angry suspicion came to Wulnoth, and he cried--

"O Wyborga, of old the Princess told me that she had a Lord. Now is
this man her lord, or was the dead King her lord, that she is in his
country?"

"Set thy heart at rest, Wulnoth," replied Wyborga. "Edgiva's Lord is
the Lord for Whose honor the King died. Thou art hasty and foolish, and
therefore trouble has been thine. Be patient now, and remember that as
of old, I am thy friend."

"I will trust you, Wyborga," Wulnoth answered.

And then Wyborga called softly thrice, like the cry of the wood owl,
and a step sounded, and through the bushes a man came and greeted
Wyborga.

"Thou hast called, good mother," he said. "Then thy mission is
successful, and thou hast found some one who can guide me, and who will
help me?"

"I have found some one," answered Wyborga, and then again she turned to
Wulnoth and addressed him by his name of Wanderer.

"Wanderer, this is the man I spoke of; and were it not that I know thee
to be brave and true, I would not have trusted thee, for though thou
knowest it not, thou hast a great treasure--ay, the hope of this land
in thy hand. Wanderer, guard this man as thou wouldst guard thine own
life--nay, more closely even, for thy life thou wouldst risk, but this
man's life thou must not risk. Only because a holy duty is to be done
shall this danger be run."

"Now," thought Wulnoth, "this must be some son of the dead King who
will seek to reign in his stead. But that matters not. I will guide
him and so shall I see my Princess again, and if any try to hinder me,
well, it will mean hard blows will be given."

Then he loosened his sword in its sheath, and he turned to the man,
saying simply--

"Come with me, stranger, and tread boldly. To do otherwise might be to
make suspicion. Thou art one of the soldiers returning with me, and
thou must laugh and sing and be merry; so shall we pass through the
camp without fear."

"Atheling!" cried Wyborga in alarm. And Wulnoth thought to himself--

"So I am right! We have a prince here," for so the word meant in the
Saxon.

But the man laughed and said--

"Have no fear, my good mother, for the way this good man advises is the
best. 'T is often safer when we wish to hide something to place it where
all may see it, and the best disguise may be to appear to desire to be
seen. Come, Wanderer, since so you are called, and we will go about our
work."

"I am ready," answered Wulnoth. "Farewell, Wyborga, and greet me to my
Princess. 'T is for her that I undertake this work to-night."

"Thy Princess greets thee, Wulnoth, but not in the name of Thor."

It was Edgiva's voice again! Then she was somewhere near at hand,
hidden in the darkness of the forest. Wulnoth stopped, but the voice
spoke again, bidding him hasten to his task, and so, muttering to
himself that all this was too deep for him to understand, Wulnoth
accompanied the stranger from the wood towards the Danish camp.

And when they drew near to it he said to the other--

"Now there is much danger here. Shall I go by myself and bear the body
out to you?"

"Nay, friend," came the quiet answer. "I have faced danger before. Do
thou lead the way and I will follow."

"So be it," answered Wulnoth, and they went in, passing the guard who,
knowing Wulnoth, took no notice of his companion.

There was little to fear. The Danes knew that no foe was near, for
their bands had come in with the report that they had driven the East
Saxons far afield, and now all were resting from the labor, and telling
their tales of the fight, and but few were away from the camp fires.

So on the two went, talking as though they were friends, and the
stranger acted his part well and laughed as though he had been in the
war game himself, though when they passed a watch fire Wulnoth noted
that his face was stern and his eyes gleamed, and he thought that
presently this man would indeed be in the war game and avenge the story
of that day's fight.

A young man was he and without the girth and strength of the viking
men. But his face was noble and his brow high, and a crisp red-brown
beard graced his mouth and chin.

So they reached the place where the body of the dead King had been
thrown, and lo, a man stood there guarding it, and at sight of that
Wulnoth gripped his sword.

But the man rose and spoke, and it was Wahrmund's voice, and he asked
who they were and what they did there; and to him Wulnoth answered--

"Wahrmund," he said, "thou art a brave man who loves not to see a hero
put to shame."

"And for that cause am I here, Wanderer," the Dane replied. "For there
was a sneaking wolf howled, and methought that so brave a man should
not become wolf's food. Therefore, to-night I watch, and to-morrow will
I bury the body of this hero, so deep that no wolf can dig it up."

"Wahrmund, there be others who would bury the body of this man with the
honor due to a fallen hero," Wulnoth made reply, "and I have such a one
with me. We come to carry this body without the camp, that it may be
given honor and have a death-song sung."

"And thou hast brought a stranger within the camp, Wanderer," was the
stern retort. "That is not right."

"Then to-morrow let me pay for it, if you think it wrong, comrade. But
for the sake of a brave man who died well, let him now take the King's
body away."

Then gruff old Wahrmund smote his spear into the ground and swore a
lusty oath.

"Now, Wanderer, my mind misgives me that we two are doing that for
which our heads may leave our bodies," he growled, "but still it shall
be done. So lend me thy aid and we will lift this hero from his humble
bed and bear him away."

"I knew that thou wert a true comrade, Wahrmund," said Wulnoth. But the
Dane answered--

"I knew that thou wert a fool, Wanderer; and thou dost make me one,
and, by Thor, perhaps I love thee the better for the doing of it."

Reverently did the young stranger take the severed head from Wulnoth;
and he bowed his head for the moment over it, while the other two
lifted their heavy burden.

"Now, how shall we bear this through the camp?" mused Wulnoth. And his
friend answered--

"We will not bear it through the camp; we will cross from here to the
forest. There are no sentries on this side that I know."

And so quietly the two carried their burden, the stranger walking
beside them with the head, and when they reached the shelter of the
wood they laid the body down and asked what next was to be done and
whither it was to be borne.

"Leave it here with me," answered the stranger, "and all will be well.
For you, kind foe, my best thanks." This he said to Wahrmund, who
growled again, feeling perhaps a little ashamed of himself that he had
been led into doing this thing; and the stranger turned to Wulnoth--

"To you I am bidden to say that if you wait here to-morrow night, about
this hour, that which you most desire shall be, and a messenger will be
here to guide you."

"Thou wilt give yon hero honor?" growled Wahrmund. "He should be buried
with honor." And the stranger smiled--

"If thou dost want to see that, warrior, come thou with thy friend
to-morrow and see for thyself--"

"How do you know that you can trust me, and how do I know that I can
trust you, Saxon?" the Dane asked mockingly; and the Saxon answered
calmly--

"I can trust a man who is noble enough to watch by the body of a shamed
hero through the long night hours."

"Good," said Wahrmund. "Then how may I know that I can trust you?"

"You may trust me," answered the other, "because for that which you
have done I am grateful. Not even to a foe does a true man repay
kindness with ingratitude." And again Wahrmund said, "Good."

"I know not who you are, stranger; but I know you to be a true man," he
said. "One day we may meet face to face in the war game, but to-morrow
night we will meet, as thou sayest, in peace."

"Till then, farewell," said the stranger; and then the two turned and
went. And the stranger called like the wood owl, and from the shadows
came silent ones, who lifted the dead King and bore him away, with
sound of weeping and lamentation.

Now, this is how Wulnoth met Wyborga the Wise in the woods of East
Anglia, and this is how the body of King Edmund was carried from the
camp of the Danes.




CHAPTER XII

_How Wulnoth and Wahrmund visited the Christian Church_


Now, on the morning after Wulnoth had aided in the carrying away of
the King's body, there was trouble in the Danish camp, because one who
had gone into the field to view the remains of the victim of Hungwar's
cruelty found no trace left; and this he thought strange.

And, though the Danes were fierce and cruel, there were some amongst
them noble enough to reverence a brave man who could suffer in patience
as King Edmund had done; and these, like Guthrun, declared that
Hungwar's deed was a shame deed, and one to be repented of.

And these, when they heard that the body was gone, declared that this
was the work of the gods, because they were angry that the King had
been slain. And some said that they had seen the King fly up into the
clouds, borne along by the storm sisters; and others declared that he
had stalked through the camp, his head in his hand, and had vanished
into the forest.

But then, there are always people ready to fancy that they have seen
such wonders as these, and others who will say that they have seen,
even if they know it false; so the Danish leaders shook their heads
and laughed when they heard, and said that the warriors had drunk too
deeply from their ale horns the night before.

But Hungwar was troubled and angry, for he liked not to hear such
tales; and he felt, moreover, that some treachery was abroad, or that
foes had been in the camp and taken the body away.

"Why trouble thy head about it?" laughed Hubba, his brother. "The
carrion is gone. The wolves have eaten it." But to that Hungwar
answered--

"Wolves leave bones, brother, and there be no bones left here. There is
treason amongst us, brother, and woe be to the man who is guilty if I
find him out."

"Wanderer," said Wahrmund to his friend, that same morning, "methinks
we played a daring game last night, and methinks that if it were known
to our leaders, our tarrying in this world would be short and painful.
Art thou determined to go through with this business to-night?"

"I am determined," answered Wulnoth firmly. "But come thou not, friend,
if thou art minded to keep away. I will see this thing to the end; for
there is one I seek to see, and I will give my life in payment, if need
be."

"Thy princess, as thou dost call her, comrade?" laughed Wahrmund.
"Ah! I know. So do a pair of pretty eyes lead brave men to danger and
death. But hark to me, comrade"; and he lowered his voice. "I tell thee
this because I love thee for a brave man, and because I read things
quickly. There was some talk of a beautiful child in those days when
we destroyed Lethra, and much was Hungwar angered that he could not
find her. Now, if this princess of thine be she whom I suppose, look to
it that Hungwar hear not of it, or there will be trouble. She is not
a child now, but maiden grown; and Hungwar would not do the hunting
and leave thee to take the spoil. Look to it, Wulnoth, for the son of
Regner is crafty, as well as fierce; and there may be trouble for thee
and thy princess yet."

Wulnoth thanked his friend for his counsel, and he thought to himself
that if ever things came to that pass there would be trouble for
Hungwar also; but that thought he kept from his comrade, for Wahrmund
was of Hungwar's band, and Wulnoth would not do aught to make him false
to his oath.

All day long the Danes roamed, hunting and sporting; and often, alas,
hunting human game, driving, harrying, slaying, all the unhappy churls
with whom they met, and burning their poor houses to the ground.

For this was the leader's counsel--"Here we must make a stronghold,"
they said, "and none but our own men must remain in the land. Then,
when we have played the war game, and driven our foes before us, we
will make the Saxons become our thralls, and they shall labor for us
while we live at ease."

And, truly, in East Anglia it seemed as if this would be; for the
people had become filled with fear and hopeless, and they thought no
more of fighting these fierce strangers, who came in swarms, as the
gnats rise from the pools, but they either fled and left all or else
came and offered service, begging for life only.

Now in the evening, when the shadows grew, and the holdas gathered in
their hall, and told their tales and drank their brown ale and wine,
then Wulnoth and Wahrmund went their way towards the forest, thinking
that no man would notice their absence. But Hungwar, as he sat with his
friends, glanced with quick suspicious eyes adown the hall, and he saw
that Wulnoth and Wahrmund were away, and he remembered that they had
been away the night before; and he said naught, but resolved to watch
them closely, for he hated Wulnoth, he knew not why, and he knew that
Wahrmund was his friend.

And into the forest the friends went, spear in hand and sword by side,
for no man might go safely unless he bore his weapons; and presently,
when they came to the place where they had parted from the stranger the
night before, a low hooting of the wood owl was heard, and from the
deep shadows a man stepped and saluted them.

"Greeting, Hacos, both," he said, in low tones, using the name by which
the Saxons call a stranger from the Northland. "Ye are to follow me."

"Hold!" cried Wahrmund, ever a wary old soldier. "That is all very
well, my friend. But how do we know it? We indeed came hither to meet
one, but that one you are not; and how are we to know that you come
from him and are not a foe seeking to lead us to our doom?"

"The thorn-crowned cross," answered the man. "The Wanderer will know of
it."

"In truth I do know," cried Wulnoth. "We may follow, Wahrmund; for if
he were not sent by my friends he would not have given me that token."

"Follow then," growled the Dane, shouldering his spear, "and follow
close; for, by Thor, this darkness is such that a man might walk into
the presence of his worst foes, and be none the wiser until the sword
or knife told him of it."

"The way is somewhat long," the guide said calmly. "Of that I warn you,
and it is hard to tread."

"Little care we for that," was the answer he received. "We have trodden
no easy paths of late. Lead on, and we follow."

So through the forest they went, and in the shadow a voice challenged
and their guide answered. And thrice did this happen, showing to them
that, after all, the soldiers of East Anglia still remained in the land
and kept watch and ward over the secret paths.

Then they came from the woodland, and saw before them, in the dim
light, pools and streams of water stretching all around; and the guide
said--

"Follow closely in my steps, for there is death here for any who
stray." And Wahrmund grunted, for he liked not the road they trod,
where the feet sank into yielding soil at every step, and the air was
full of the croakings of frogs and the cries of night birds.

And here again they were challenged twice, and the guide gave answer
ere they were allowed to proceed; and so going they came to the water's
edge where, silent and motionless, men awaited them with a boat.

"Ah!" grunted Wahrmund, "this is better. The water is the viking's
land, and better than those forests or the swampy plains. Have we far
to go, guide? for methinks that time passes."

"You shall be safely back at your camp ere the dawn breaks in the
east," answered the guide. "Now be silent and prepare to see sights of
which you know nothing yet."

The boat crossed to an island, and here they stepped ashore, again
being challenged; and then, in the centre of the isle, which was but
small, they saw a building, surrounded by trees to screen it from the
passers-by, and here the guide paused and uttered his cry again; and at
that, from the yawning portal a man emerged, clad in a gray robe which
reached to his feet.

"Who are these, my son?" he asked. And the guide replied--

"Those whom I was bidden bring, father. Now I leave them in thy
keeping."

"It is well. Follow me, friends, and be silent and solemn; and,
moreover, remember that ye go into the presence of the Most High."

There was something awe-inspiring in his solemn words; and he, without
awaiting their reply, led the way into this building, passing along a
low, narrow way, arched o'erhead, and pausing at a door whereat a man
sat.

"Enter," he said, "and once again I pray you be silent, and remember
that it is only because the Atheling and a royal lady have desired
this, that we let your eyes behold our worship. Enter," and stepping
aside he suffered them to go in.

And what a strange place it was! For the moment their eyes seemed
blinded by the light--light that came from a hundred lamps. Then, as
they grew accustomed to the radiance, they were able to look around and
examine their surroundings.

It was not a very spacious apartment, but it was very beautiful.
Massive stone pillars in long rows supported the arched roof, and the
windows were ornamented with curious carvings in stone work. But it
was not at columns, nor roof, nor at windows, that they looked, but at
the scene directly facing them, for such a scene they had never viewed
before.

There uprose above five stone steps a lofty altar, draped in white
and crimson and gold, and many a gem and much precious metal in its
workings; and there, directly in front of this, was a bier, upon which
rested the body of the martyred King Edmund.

Calm and dignified did the royal face look in death, and all the pain
and weariness had left the features. The hair fell on either side of
the wax-like brow, upon which his golden crown now rested; and behind
the bier, rising over it as though it were guarding the sleeping King,
rose a cross. Ay, a cross, yet not an empty one, for on it hung One
nailed there by hands and feet.

All the skill of the sculptor, all the cunning of the painter, had
been expended upon that work; and as the two rough Northmen looked,
they held their breath in awe, for the blue eyes, so gentle and yet so
kingly, seemed to glance across at them; and the whole attitude of the
Sufferer seemed to speak of infinite pity and love, so that Wahrmund
drew a deep breath and whispered to his companion--

"By Thor! 'T is a god yonder. 'T is Balder the Beautiful, who watches
from yon cross, over the couch of death!"

"Hush!" answered Wulnoth in the same tone--he could not take his
eyes from that figure. Without word being spoken to him he saw what
a poor blind fool he had been. If this was the image of Him Whom the
Christians worshipped, He was no coward and nithing, but the greatest,
the grandest, the noblest of all the sons of men.

Then they noticed yet another thing--the body of the King was guarded,
for on either side of the bier a man knelt--a young man, clad in royal
attire, and upon the head of one of the two glittered a kingly crown.

"Yon kneeling man is he we saw in the wood last night--he whom we
aided," whispered Wahrmund, and Wulnoth nodded.

But now came a sound of soft music, sweet and strange, now sinking into
a whisper, now rising into a flood, and with it the voices of singers
raising a death-song.

But a strange death-song, truly, for the death-songs of the North were
to the honor of the heroes and spoke of their deeds, but this song was
to the White Christ and to the God of Heaven, and it spoke no word
of praise about the dead king, but only told of humble trust in the
Crucified One.

Then into the building the singers swept, all veiled in long
robes--some men, some graceful maidens, and--

Wulnoth started and fixed his anxious eyes upon one of that
throng--surely he knew that voice--surely he recognized that
figure--surely beneath that robe the beauty of Edgiva was hidden!

But if it was the Princess she gave no sign. The singers slowly passed
up to the altar and divided into two parties, one on either side, and
the two watchers rose up and stood by the bier, as kingly a pair of
young men as the eye might look upon, though he whom they had spoken
with the evening before looked pale and as if sickness had been his
portion.

Then there came other men, priests, led by one tall and dignified,
and they sang praises to God, and offered prayers, and spoke of the
Crucified as Lord of Lords and King of Kings. And the two watchers
stood there with hearts filled with wonder and awe, for though they
could not understand, yet there was something both grand and dreadful
in this worship, and yet, withal, it was winning, like the sweet scent
of the flowers or the song of the birds, or the whisper of the sea upon
a summer's day. It was something which seemed to get into their hearts,
and made them long for they knew not what, with a longing which was
sweet and painful.

And then the aged priest, for such they divined the man to be, stood
and spoke of the dead King and the work which he had tried to do, and
how he had been tried and was faithful, choosing rather the tortures of
the Danes than the denying of his Lord, and how, though he had passed
through the gates of death, yet in his Lord he lived and reigned in
glory forever.

And then he paused and turned to the two young men, and called them
the hope of the Church, and bade them be strong in the Lord and gird
themselves for battle.

"Strong are the foe and terrible," he said. "Many as the sands of
the sea and mighty as Bashan, but in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting
strength, and He Who could strengthen Gideon, and make Jephthah
conquer, shall also make you mighty. Go forward, hope of the Church--go
forward, avengers of the noble Edmund--go forward and quit yourselves
like men, and the Lord shall give you the victory, and deliver His
Church from the powers of darkness and from the violence of the
spoiler."

Then the two young men knelt again, and the priest placed his hands
upon them and blessed them; and then the men in long robes came and
took up the body of the dead King and carried it away. And in one
portion of the building was the dark entrance to an underground vault,
and into this they lowered the bier, while all there sang hymns of
victory to God for victory over death. And this was the burying of the
King of the East Saxons.

Then two by two the procession was formed, and, headed by the priest,
they swept all round the building, coming nigh the spot where Wulnoth
and his companion stood in the shadow, and the eyes of Wulnoth followed
that one figure, his heart telling him that this was Edgiva the
Beautiful.

And then, just as she reached the spot where he stood, for one moment a
tiny hand appeared from beneath the shrouding cloak, and a fair blossom
dropped at his feet. Then, ere he could speak or move, she had passed
on, and the church was empty.

"Now," said Wahrmund, speaking in low tones, "we have seen strange
things over which a man needs ponder deeply. But methinks, comrade, all
is done now, and we had best look for our guide."

Then, ere Wulnoth could answer, a curtain was drawn aside from an
arching doorway, and the man with whom they had come hither stood
before them.

Now, this is how Wulnoth saw the burying of King Edmund, and this is
how he looked upon the image of Him Whom he had called a nithing.




CHAPTER XIII

_Of How Wulnoth met with Edgiva again_


The man held the curtain aside and invited them to follow him.

"The Atheling bids you come," he said. "And he says to him called the
Wanderer that not yet has he received that reward which was promised to
him."

"Come, Wanderer," laughed Wahrmund, "we may as well go through with
it now. By Thor! 't is strange that I, a Dane, should be amongst these
Saxons, but I feel inclined to see this to the end. How sayest thou?"

Little need to ask Wulnoth such a question, for the one desire of his
heart was to see his Princess. Therefore the two followed their guide,
and were ushered into an apartment where sat the two men whom they had
seen watching in the church.

And the younger, he who did not wear the crown, came to welcome them
and said--

"Greeting, friends, and again thanks for the aid you rendered me in
securing honor for King Edmund's body."

Then he turned to the other, and went on--

"Ethelred, my royal and dear brother, these are the two of whom I told
you, and to their help are we indebted, for otherwise it would have
been a hard matter to gain the body of the martyr."

"We thank you from our hearts, strangers," said the one called
Ethelred. And Wahrmund whispered to his friend--

"By Thor! 'T is Ethelred, the King of the West Saxons. He is son of the
noble Ethelwulf the Bretwalda, and the other must be his brother, the
Atheling Alfred."

Then did the King continue, looking hard at Wulnoth, and he said--

"But what is this? We have no Dane here, brother! This hair and those
blue eyes are surely of the land of our fathers!"

"That is so, royal brother," answered Alfred. "According to all I have
heard from the wise Wyborga, this man is of the noble house of Cerdic,
he from whom our own house also traces its descent."

"Is that so?" the King cried. "It is good in one way, and yet 't is
strange to think of one of such royal blood joining our foes."

"Strange is this man's story, my brother," Alfred replied. "I have it
as it was told to me," and he told the King how Wulnoth came to Lethra
with his father and of all that had happened since.

But the King shook his head as he listened, and said that this did not
explain how Wulnoth came to be in Hungwar's army, seeing that it was
Hungwar who gave Lethra to fire and sword.

So Wulnoth spoke, and told how he had two tasks to do--one to find
Guthred the Prince, and the other to find the mightiest and the
strongest. And at that Alfred the Atheling smiled gently.

"Now, brother," he said to the King, "this is a task for priests, and
perchance a fair teacher whom we two wot of, and not for us. Thou
seest how this man chances to be with the Danes, and thou seest how
't is but a step to discovering that for which he seeks. Let this good
warrior"--and he pointed to Wahrmund--"tarry here with us and let the
other go to his reward."

But the King looked grave and he said slowly--

"This man is a thrall, and Edgiva is a king's daughter."

"This man is of our blood, and can noble blood be debased because a
thrall collar is placed upon the neck? My word is pledged, brother,
that this man shall see the lady, and I pray you to allow it."

"Let it be so," said the King, and the Atheling laughed. "Follow me, O
Wanderer," he said to Wulnoth; and as the Wanderer obeyed, he heard the
deep laugh of Wahrmund, and the words--

"Of a truth, O King, a wondrous thing is love. You might offer yon man
a golden crown now, and he would not take it in exc

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