The Black Jarl/Chapter 8

HERE comes to many men a flood of good fortune, events tumbling one upon the heels of the other and each adding to a man's position and fame, and so it happened now to the black jarl.

The excitement of the moment died down, and Thyra went with her maidens to a pavilion her father had erected. For, after all, though the daughter of a jarl she was but a woman, and her danger of a moment not enough to stop the fair.

King Olaf gave the signal for the sports to begin, and Edvard Haakonsson, avoiding his uncle and Magnus and many of the others, walked about the grounds, peering into booths and pavilions and enjoying the sights, Eric the Dumb always at his heels.

Then there came a moment when Edvard turned and regarded Eric gravely.

"It is in my mind that you are of good blood," Edvard said. "I can tell it in your manner and bearing. Tragedy has touched your life, mayhap, but it is not necessary that it endure forever. It is necessary that we have thralls, yet would I rather have a man cling to me and serve me through love. What will be your actions if I set you free?"

Eric's dull face lighted and he struggled to speak. The words came slowly, but finally they came.

"Still would I serve you, master," he said. "To be free, and yet to serve you—that is enough. I do not wish to return to my own country—too many years have passed."

"Then shall you be free, and serve me as a free man."

"And ever will I stand at your back, master, to guard you against foes. For there be foes in this land who strike a man in the back."

Edvard's face darkened. "Did you have more wit, I should take it that there is a double meaning to your words," he said. "Follow!"

They went back to where the sports were being held, and men acclaimed the ax thrower and urged him to show more of his skill. And so Edvard Haakonsson, wishing merely to enter into the spirit of the games and seek his own diversion, so managed it that he made more enemies, and many in the following of his kinsman.

He wrestled, and he won, and it was noticed that the big Magnus took no part in the wrestling. He threw the javelin, and here he won easily, for it was a weapon with which he was familiar. Nor could the swimmers defeat him, which was looked upon as a strange thing, since Norsemen are clever in the water.

Sport after sport he attempted, and almost all he won. Now the throng of common folk acclaimed him, and some of the noble born, yet there were men at arms who thought that he attained altogether too many honors.

The sports came to an end, and Edvard the Ax Thrower was acclaimed the victor. And then he sat at the left hand of Olaf for a space, and talked of lands far away, while Svend the Bloody watched from a distance, his face a thunder cloud.

There was feasting in the open space as the night approached. But when it was ended the jarls went back to their own camps with their followings. Edvard Haakonsson was given a horse, and rode in style, with Eric the Dumb trotting beside his mount.

When the camp was reached, Magnus hurried to his tent, where he found his two men bound. He released them, and what words he said are not known, but they burned. And afterward Magnus went to Svend's pavilion, and held secret conversation there, telling him what had happened.

"This black jarl has belittled me," Magnus said. "Nothing but combat and blood can satisfy me now."

But Svend held up a warning hand. "He must not be touched," he said. "He is the favorite of Olaf after this one day. His sudden death at this time would mean trouble for us."

"Has the day come, then, when my jarl fears the Christian king?" Magnus asked, boldly and hotly. "Are you not almost as great as Olaf? Did you lead the men of Thor, you might yet be king in Olaf's stead."

Svend looked at him searchingly. "Perhaps I am growing cunning, Magnus," he replied. "There was a time when boldness and strength always won, but the day has arrived when a man must possess cunning also."

"But I do not understand," Magnus said. "You bend before Olaf. You strike hands in friendship with Harald the Just!"

"But with a reservation of mind," Svend said, smiling a bit.

"How is this?"

"I have a plan," Svend said. "We will make this visit of friendship to Harald's jarldom. We shall take a goodly company. And men at arms shall follow and hide themselves in the forest."

"You intend—" Magnus did not dare voice his thought.

"Think you that my friendship for Harald could be real?" Svend asked. "The fool grows soft. Look you how there were tears in his eyes to-day when he feared for his daughter! He will welcome us with open arms and suspect nothing. It will be the time to strike."

"The laws of hospitality—" Magnus began.

"Laws have been broken before, Magnus. It is our great chance. I shall pretend an illness and refuse to take salt with him. I can be busy speaking, and forget to eat meat. And when they feel secure, when his gates and doors are open—"

"The men come in from the woods!" Magnus completed.

"But this thing must not be spoken of now," Svend warned. "I do not trust this kinsman of mine too much, and he must never know. And there is another reason for keeping him unknowing."

"I wait to hear it, jarl."

"Were this Edvard to be slain now the king would suspect us, and we want his trust for our plans. We go to Harald's, and before we leave we slay his men and women and thralls, and lay waste his estate. We can tell a tale afterward, of thralls starting the fighting, of warriors joining in. 'Twill not be too strong a tale, hence it will be believed. Harald, the greatest of the Christian jarls, will be gone and his men with him. Even if the king suspect, then, he will dare not strike. For his forces will be weakened. And if he does strike, then we of Odin and Thor finish him."

"And you will be king!" Magnus supplied in a whisper. "None has a better claim. The sons of Earl Haakon have not a better right!"

"Haakon! Must I always hear that cursed name?" Svend cried.

"And the black jarl—"

"Must be kept in ignorance as to our purpose," Svend said. "And what more natural than that, in the heat of battle, he falls?"

Magnus smiled evilly. "I shall see to it that he falls," he said.

"'Twill be a fair day when he does. He has made a fool of you. He has become the favorite of Olaf in a single day. He has the heart of a woman. He fights for a thrall, and now makes a free man of him. He saves a maid from a dog. And that maid the daughter of Harald the Just! Far better would he have served our plans to have held his hand and let the crazed hound do its work. It would not have grieved me to see sorrow eating at Harald's heart."

Svend walked to the door of the pavilion and looked out over his camp. Thralls were stretched around the great fires. Guards had been placed. Warriors laughed and jested and shouted. The clear voices of shield maidens came from tents in the distance. And the bright moonlight bathed it all.

Svend turned back into the tent. "Pass the word, Magnus, that the black jarl is not to be harmed," he commanded. "I want no man to pick a quarrel with him. If we accomplish what we wish, it must be when we raid the jarldom of Harald the Just."

Magnus saluted and left to go to his own tent, and Svend the Bloody sought his couch, there to stretch himself and think more on his plans. In his own tent, Magnus stalked back and forth, his mind filled with Brynhild. He would have to explain to her why Edvard Haakonsson returned from the fair alive.

Edvard had departed from his own tent as soon as the camp had quieted down. Guards saluted as he passed, nor looked where he went. He walked along the edge of the highway, and presently plunged into the brush. When he was at some distance from the camp, he turned into the road again and strode forward, yet ready to dart out of sight if he met men.

He had ascertained where the camp of Harald was located, and now he made his way rapidly toward it. In time he was standing in a clump of trees and watching the tents. There was a great fire in Harald's clearing, too, and his men were making merry.

Edvard the Ax Thrower circled the camp halfway and then crept closer. He made out the women's quarters. Gusts of laughter came to his ears, silvery laughter that he thrilled to hear.

For a space he watched and waited, and after a time the flap of one of the tents was lifted, and a maiden stepped out into the moonlight. It was Thyra.

One of the guards whirled quickly toward her, recognized her, and turned away again to watch the men around the fire. Thyra stood for a moment looking up at the moon, then moved slowly toward the edge of the woods.

Nearer she came, until Edvard could see her features. Beautiful features they were, and now thoughtful ones. She stopped almost at the edge of the brush, and turned to glance back toward the tents, her hands clasped at her breast.

"Thyra!" He called the name softly, like a caress. "Thyra!" he repeated.

She turned swiftly at the sound of his voice, and sudden alarm was in her face and manner.

"Who calls?" she asked in a low tone.

"Him they call the Ax Thrower."

He heard the little gasp of surprise she gave. For a moment she stood still, looking toward the edge of the woods. And then she moved nearer.

"Edvard, son of Haakon the Lover?" she questioned.

"It is I."

Now he stepped out where she could recognize him, then went back a pace, so that the guards would not see. She followed swiftly.

"What do you here at my father's camp?" she questioned. "If you are found—"

"I do not come in anger," he said.

"Then—" She seemed to question why he should come at all.

"Is it strange that I should wish to look upon your fair face again?" he asked.

"You might see me to-morrow at the fair."

"And waste the long night?"

"But you are in danger," she said. "There is not much trust between your house and mine."

"Then you did not wish me to come?" he asked.

"I have not said that."

"Did you not hope that I would? Did you not know that I would?"

"How should I know?"

"Did not your heart tell you so?" he asked. "And why are you walking alone in the moonlight, instead of listening to the shield maidens gossip?"

"Perhaps I grow tired of their gossip."

"If you do not wish to see me, I can go away again."

She hesitated a moment. "Since you are here, it were unmannerly to rush you away," she replied.

Edvard Haakonsson stepped closer to her, looked down at her.

"Never before have I seen a maiden so fair," he said. "I give thanks that my ax went true to-day."

"And I give thanks to you because it did."

"Our houses have plighted their friendship this day, and it is a good omen."

"But there is not much trust," she said. "Edvard Haakonsson, you must beware! Do not stroll about my father's camp at night. There may come a thrust in the dark." She shuddered as she spoke.

"Yet must I see you."

"In secret only, for the present. Perhaps, when days and days have passed, and Svend the Bloody has shown himself sincere—"

"But I cannot wait for days and days, Thyra. I—I want you for my wife."

"You?" she gasped.

"My heart already is filled with love of you. Can there be no hope?"

This was a wooing of the sort she never had known before. It were more the Norse custom for a man to want a maid and make a bargain with her father. She had expected that one day she would be betrothed to a jarl or noble warrior. Yet this manner of wooing pleased her best.

"There—there may be hope," she whispered.

"Thyra!"

"But how can it be? Think you that my father would give me to you? Think you that Svend the Bloody would have you mate with one of the house of Harald?"

"I am my own man!" Edvard said. "I am a jarl, even as Svend is a jarl! In a matter like this, I seek none but my own counsel, Thyra!"

"Then must you win my father over," she said.

"And I do not have you to win?"

"You already have won, jarl!"

He took the last pace toward her and clasped her in his arms, and then his lips met hers. A moment he held her so, then she stepped back again.

"I cannot understand how this thing has come," she said. "And I have the feeling that there is danger to follow—for you. Edvard, you must beware! If anything were to happen to you now, I should die!"

"Well will I guard myself," he said, "when there is such a reason for it."

"Svend the Bloody is to make us a visit. And you will come with him?"

"You may depend upon that. In my eagerness to see you, I shall ride in the van."

"But my father must be won slowly, if we are to win his consent at all," she told him. "You must teach him to trust you, as you have taught me. Perhaps, when you come for the visit—"

"Then we may be able to tell him?"

"Perhaps," she repeated. "But we must keep it secret now. It has all come so swiftly. And we cannot blame my father if he is slow to believe that Svend and those of his house have really changed."

"Then it must be secret," Edvard Haakonsson agreed. "But let us hasten the day."

"And now you must go, Edvard, my Ax Thrower. There is peril for you in the woods. I will return to the tent, and there pray for your safety. And, if you can, Edvard, let your heart turn from Odin and Thor and toward the cross."

He would have replied, but one of the guards turned and walked toward them. And so he clasped her quickly in his arms again, and once more he kissed her. And then he stepped back into the darkness of the dense woods, and was gone.

Thyra, her heart singing, turned toward the approaching guard, acknowledged his salutation, and hurried toward her tent.