But the fury that burned in the Norseman's brain would not allow him to keep still while those who defied him were still at liberty. It was not in a Viking to sit still when fired with rage, even though action were useless. Cormac knew these strange, fierce people better than they knew themselves.
Not until the clash of steel had died out in the forest beyond, and the torchlights had become mere fire-flies glimpsed occasionally through the trees, did Cormac give the order to advance. Then at double quick time they hastened on, until they saw more lights ahead of them, and presently, crouching beneath the tall trees at the edge of the clearing, looked out on the steading of Rognor the Red. The main skalli and many of the smaller buildings were alight but only a few warriors were seen. Evidently Rognor had taken most of his carles with him on his useless chase.
"What now, Cormac?" said Wulfhere.
"Hakon should be here," answered Cormac.
Even as he opened his mouth to give the signal agreed upon, a carle rounded the corner of a stable close by, carrying a torch. The watchers saw him alter his leisurely pace suddenly and glance fixedly in their direction. Some motion in the deep shadows had attracted his attention.
"What cursed luck!" hissed Wulfhere. "He's coming straight for us. Edric-lose me an arrow-"
"No," muttered Cormac, "never kill, Wulfhere, save when it is necessary. Wait!"
The Gael faded back into the darkness like a phantom. The carle came straight for the forest edge, waving his torch slightly, curious, but evidently not suspicious. Now he was under the trees and his out-thrust fagot shone full on Wulfhere, where the huge Dane stood in grim silence, motionless as a statue.
"Rognor!" The flickering light was illusive; the carle saw only a red-bearded giant. "Back so soon? Have you caught-?"
The sentence broke off abruptly as he saw the red beards and fierce, unfamiliar faces of the silent men ranged behind Wulfhere; his gaze switched back to the chief and his eyes flared with sudden horror. His lips parted, but at that instant an iron arm hooked about his throat, strangling the threatened yell. Wulfhere knocked the torch from his hand and stamped it out, and in the darkness the carle was disarmed and bound securely with his own harness.
"Speak low and answer my questions," sounded a sinister whisper at his ear. "How many weapon-men are there left at the steading?"
The carle was brave enough in open battle, but the suddenness of the surprise had unnerved him, and here in the darkness, surrounded by his ruthless hereditary foes, with the demonic Gael muttering at his shoulder, the Norseman's blood turned to ice.
"Thirty men remain," he answered.
"Where are they?"
"Half of them are in the skalli. The rest are in the huts."
"Good enough," grunted the Gael. "Gag him and bring him along with us. Now wait here until I find Hakon."
He gave the cry of a sleepy bird, thrice repeated, and waited a moment. The answer came drifting back from the woods on the other side of the clearing.
"Stay here," ordered the Gael, and melted from the sight of Wulfhere and his Danes like a shadow.
Cautiously he made his way around the fringe of the forest, keeping well hidden in the trees, and presently a slight rustling noise ahead of him made him aware that a body of men lurked before him. He sounded the signal again, and presently heard Hakon whisper a sibilant warning. Behind the young Viking the Gael made out the vague forms of his warriors.
"By the gods," muttered Cormac impatiently, "you make enough noise to wake Caesar. Surely the carles had investigated but that they thought you a herd of buffalo-who is this?"
By Hakon's side was a slim figure, clad in mail and armed with a sword, but strangely out of place among the giant warriors.
"Tarala," answered Hakon. "She would not stay hidden in the hills-so I found a corselet that she could wear and-"
Cormac cursed fervently. "Well-well. Now attend me closely. See you yon hut-the one wherein you were confined? Well, we are going to set fire to it."
"But, man," exclaimed Hakon, "the flame will bring Rognor on the run!"
"Exactly; that is what I wish. Now when the fire brings the carles running, you and your Jutes sally from the forest and fall upon them. Cut down as many as you can, but the moment they rally and make head against you, fall back into the stables, which you can easily do. If you work it right, you should do this without losing a man. Then, once inside the stable, bar and bolt the doors and hold it against them. They will not set fire to it, because many fine horses are there, and you with your men can hold it easily against thirty."
"But what of you and your Danes?" protested Hakon. "Are we to bear all the brunt and danger, while-"
Cormac's hand shot out and his steely fingers sank fiercely in Hakon's shoulder.
"Do you trust me or do you not?" he snarled. "By the blood of the gods, are we to waste the night in argument? Do you not see that so long as Rognor's men think they have only you to deal with, the surprise will be triply effective when Wulfhere strikes? Worry not-when the time comes my Danes will drink blood aplenty."
"Well enough," agreed Hakon, convinced by the dynamic impact of the Gael's will, "but you must have Tarala with you, out of harm's way for the time-"
"Never!" cried the girl, stamping her small foot. "I shall be at your side, Hakon, as long as we both live. I am the daughter of a British prince and I can wield a sword as well as any of your men!"
"Well," Cormac grinned thinly, "easy to see who'll be the real ruler in your family-but come, we have no time to waste. Leave her here with your men for now."
As they glided through the shadows, Cormac repeated his plans in a low voice, and soon they stood at the point where the forest most nearly approached the hut that served as Rognor's prison. Warily they stole from the trees and swiftly ran to the hut. A large tree stood just without the door and as they passed under it, something bumped heavily against Cormac's face. His quick hand grasped a human foot and, looking up in surprise, he made out a vague figure swaying limply to and fro above him.
"Your jailor!" he grunted. "That was ever Rognor's way, Hakon-when in anger, hang the first man handy. A poor custom-never kill except when necessary."
The logs of the hut were dry, with much bark still on them. A few seconds' work with flint and steel and a thin wisp of flame caught the shredded fibre and curled up the wall.
"Back to your men, now," muttered Cormac, "and wait until the carles are swarming about the huts. Then hack straight through them and gain the stables."
Hakon nodded and darted away. A few minutes more found Cormac back with his own men, who were muttering restlessly as they watched the flames eat their way up the wall of the hut. Suddenly a shout sounded from the skalli. Men came pouring out of the main hall and the huts, some fully armed and wide awake, some gaping and half clad as though just awakened from a sound sleep. Behind them peered the women and slaves. The men snatched buckets of water and ran for the hut and in a moment the scene was one of the usual confusion attendant to a fire. The carles jostled each other, shouted useless advice and made a vain attempt to stem the flame which now leaped roaring up through the roof and curled high in a blaze that was sure to be seen by Rognor wherever he was.
And in the midst of the turmoil there sounded a fierce medley of yells and a small, compact body of men crashed from the forest and smote the astonished carles like a thunderbolt. Hacking and hewing right and left, Hakon and his Jutes cleft their way through the bewildered Norsemen, leaving a wake of dead and dying behind them.