Then the Gael wheeled back, just as a powerful carle raised an axe high above the still prostrate Wulfhere. The point was Cormac's favorite, but that he could use the edge as well he proved by splitting the carle's skull to the chin. Then, grabbing Wulfhere's shoulders, he hauled him off the men he was seeking to throttle and dragged him, cursing and bellowing like a bull, out of the press.
A quick glance showed him that Rognor's veterans had fallen before the axes of the Danes, and that the rest of the Norsemen, seeing their chief fall, had renewed the fight only halfheartedly. Then what he had hoped for occurred. One of the Norsemen shouted: "The woods are full of Danes!" And the strange, inexplicable panic that sometimes seizes men gripped the carles. Shouting, they gave back and fled for the skalli in a straggling body. Wulfhere, shaking the blood out of his eyes and bellowing for his axe; would have hurled his men after them, but Cormac stopped him. His shouted commands kept the Danes from following the fugitives, who were fortified in the skalli and ready to sell their lives as dearly as only cornered men can.
Hakon, prompted by Cormac, shouted to them: "Ho, warriors, will ye listen to me?"
"We listen, Hakon," came back a shout from the barred windows, "but keep back; mayhap we be doomed men, but many shall die with us if you seek to take the skalli."
"I have no quarrel with you," answered Hakon. "I look upon you as friends, though you allowed Rognor to bind and imprison me. But that is past; let it be forgotten. Rognor is dead; his picked veterans are dead and ye have no leader. The forest about the steading swarms with Danes who but await my signal. But that signal I am loath to give. They will burn the skalli and cut the throats of every man, woman and child among you. Now attend me-if you will accept me as your chieftain, and swear fealty to me, no harm will come to you."
"What of the Danes?" came the shouted question. "Who are they that we should trust them?"
"You trust me, do you not? Have I ever broken my word?"
"No," they admitted, "you have always kept faith."
"Good enough. I swear to you that the Danes will not harm you. I have promised them a ship; that promise I must keep if they are to go in peace. But if you follow me on the Viking path, we can soon get another ship or build one. And one thing more-here stands beside me the girl who is to be my wife-the daughter of a British prince. She has promised me the aid of her people in all our endeavors. With friends on the British mainland we can have a source of supplies from whence we can raid the Angles and Saxons to our hearts' content-with the aid of Tarala's Britons we may carve us out a kingdom in Britain as Cerdic, Hengist and Horsa did. Now, speak-will you take me as your chief?"
A short silence followed in which the Vikings were evidently holding council with each other; then presently their spokesman shouted: "We agree to your wishes, O Hakon!"
Hakon laid down his notched and bloody sword and approached the skalli door emptyhanded. "And will you swear fealty to me on the bull, the fire and the sword?"
The great portals swung open, framing fierce, bearded faces. "We will swear, Hakon; our swords are yours to command."
"And when they've found we've tricked them, they'll turn and cut his throat and ours," grunted Wulfhere, mopping the blood from his face.
Cormac smiled and shook his head. "They've sworn, they will keep faith. Are you badly wounded?"
"A trifle," growled the giant. "A gash in the thigh and a few more on the arms and shoulders. It was the cursed blood that got in my eyes when Rognor's sword bit through my helmet and into my scalp, as it broke…"
"Your head's harder than your helmet, Wulfhere," laughed Cormac. "But here, we must be attending to our wounded. Some ten of our men are dead and nearly all of them slashed more or less. Also, some of the Jutes are down. But, by the gods, what a killing we have made this night!"
He indicated the stark and silent rows of arrow-feathered or sword-gashed Norsemen.
The sun, not yet in the zenith of the clear blue sky, glimmered on the white sails of a long ship as they spread and swelled to catch the wind. On the deck stood a small group of figures.
Cormac extended his hand to Hakon. "We have hunted together well this night, young sir. A few hours since you were a captive doomed to die and Wulfhere and I were hunted outlaws. Now you are lord of Ladbhan and a band of hardy Vikings, and Wulfhere and I have a staunch ship under our feet-though forsooth, the crew is rather scant. Still, that can be overcome as soon as the Danes hear that Wulfhere and Cormac Mac Art need men.
"And you-" he turned to the girl who stood beside Hakon, still clad in the mail that hung loosely on her lithe form-"you are in truth a valkyrie-a shield woman. Your sons will be kings."
"Aye, that they will," rumbled Wulfhere, enveloping Tarala's slim hand with his own huge paw. "Were I a marrying man, I might cut Hakon's throat and carry you off for myself. But now the wind is rising and my very heart quivers to feel the deck rocking under my feet again. Good fortune attend you all."
Hakon, his bride and the Norsemen attending them swung down into the boat that waited to carry them ashore. At Wulfhere's shout, his Danes cast off; the oars began to ply and the sails filled. The watchers in the boat and on shore saw the long ship stand off.
"What now, old wolf?" roared Wulfhere, dealing Cormac a buffet between the shoulders that would have felled a horse. "Where away?-it is for you to say."
"To the Isle of Swords, first, for a full crew," the Gael answered, his eyes alight. "Then-" he drank in deeply the crisp strong tang of the sea-wind-"then, skoal for the Viking path again and the ends of the world!"
NIGHT OF THE WOLF
Thorwald Shield-hewer's gaze wandered from the glittering menace in the hard eyes of the man who fronted him, and strayed down the length of his great skalli. He marked the long lines of mailed, horn-helmed carles, the hawk-faced chiefs who had ceased feasting to listen. And Thorwald Shield-hewer laughed.
True, the man who had just flung his defiance into the Viking's teeth did not look particularly impressive beside the armored giants who thronged the hall. He was a short, heavily-muscled man, smooth-faced and very dark. His only garments or ornaments were rude sandals on his feet, a deerskin loincloth, and a broad leather girdle from which swung a short curiously-barbed sword. He wore no armor and his square-cut black mane was confined only by a thin silver band about his temples. His cold black eyes glittered with concentrated fury and his inner passions stirred the expressions of his usually immobile face.
"A year ago," said he, in barbarous Norse, "you came to Golara, desiring only peace with my people. You would be our friend and protect us from the raids of others of your accursed race. We were fools; we dreamed there was faith in a sea-thief. We listened. We brought you game and fish and cut timbers when you built your steading, and shielded you from others of our people who were wiser than we. Then you were a handful with one longship. But as soon as your stockade was built, more of you came. Now your warriors number four hundred, and six dragonships are drawn up on the beach.
"Soon you became arrogant and overbearing. You insulted our chiefs, beat our young men -of late your devils have been carrying off our women and murdering our children and our warriors."
"And what would you have me do?" cynically asked Thorwald. "I have offered to pay your chief man-bote for each warrior slain causelessly by my carles. And as for your wenches and brats-a warrior should not trouble himself about such trifles."
"Man-bote!" the dark chief's eyes flashed in fierce anger. "Will silver wash out spilt blood? What is silver to we of the isles? Aye-the women of other races are trifles to you Vikings, I know. But you may find that dealing thus with the girls of the forest people is far from a trifle!"