Erling the Bold by R. M. Ballantyne (top business books of all time .txt) 📖

from the stede itself, but there was no possibility of passing down the river in that direction by land, owing to the precipitous nature of the ground. The ordinary path down the valley, which elsewhere followed the curvatures of the river, made at this point a wide détour into the woods, went in a zigzag form up the steep ascent of the ridge, descended similarly on the other side, and did not rejoin the river for nearly half a mile below. The waters were so pent up by the Crow Cliff that they rushed along its base in a furious rapid, which, a hundred yards down, descended in a perpendicular fall of about fifteen feet in depth. The descent of this rapid by a boat was quite possible, for there was a little bay at the lower end of Crow Cliff, just above the foss, into which it could be steered by a dexterous rower; but this mode of descent was attended with the imminent risk of being swept over the fall and dashed to pieces, so that none except the daring young spirits of the glen ever attempted it, while all the rest were content to cross the ridge by the longer and more laborious, but safe, path which we have just described. To descend this rapid by swimming was one of the feats which the youths of the place delighted to venture, and often had Erling and Glumm dared it together, while not a few of their companions had lost their lives in the attempt.

A few words from Erling gave the men to understand what was expected of them. It was arranged that while he, Ulf, Glumm, and the hermit should put the girls into the little boat and guide them down the rapid, the men were to leap into the water and swim down. All were to land in the little bay, and then make for the cave on the coast in a body, and fight their way thither, if need be; but it was believed there would be no occasion for that, because before the plan was carried out most of the King’s men would probably be assembled above the Crow Cliff at the stede. A few who could not swim were sent off at once by the track to warn Haldor. All these well-laid plans, however, were suddenly frustrated, for, while Erling was still consulting with Ulf and Glumm as to details, and peeping through the underwood, they beheld a sight which caused their hearts almost to stand still.

From the elevated spot where they lay they could see the hermit advancing rapidly towards them in a crouching attitude, closely followed by the maidens, while at the same time there advanced from the stede a large band of men under a chief, who was evidently commissioned to execute some order of the King. Erling and his friends could clearly see these two parties unwittingly approaching each other, at right angles, each making for a point where the two paths crossed, and where they were certain to meet. They could see their friends quietly but swiftly gliding towards the very fate they sought to avoid, and experienced all the agony of being unable to give a shout of warning, or to prevent the foe from capturing them; for, even if there had been time to rush upon them before the meeting, which there was not, Erling by so doing would have been obliged to place the whole of Harald’s host between him and the boat at Crow Cliff. This consideration, however, would not have deterred him, but another idea had flashed upon his mind. What that was shall be seen presently.

Before the two parties met, the ears of the hermit, albeit somewhat dulled by age, became aware of the tramp of armed men, and at once he drew the girls hastily aside into the bushes; but the bushes at that part happened to be not very thick, and part of Ada’s dress, which was a gay one with a good deal of scarlet about it, caught the attention of a sharp-eyed warrior. The man uttered a shout and sprang towards them; several others joined in the pursuit, a loud scream from one of the girls was heard, and next moment the fugitives were captured!

“Up and at them!” cried Glumm, endeavouring to rise, but he found himself pinned to the earth by Erling’s powerful arms.

“Stay, Glumm, be quiet, I beseech thee,” entreated Erling, as his comrade struggled violently but fruitlessly to escape from his powerful embrace.—“Do listen, Ulf; ye will spoil all by inconsiderate haste. I have a plan: listen—these men are not devils, but Norsemen, and will not hurt the girls; they will take them before the King. Hear me, and they shall yet be rescued!”

While the power of Erling’s muscles restrained Glumm, the deep-toned impassioned earnestness of his voice held back Ulf, who had leaped up and drawn his sword; but it was with evident reluctance that he paused and listened.

“Now hear me,” cried Erling; “I and Glumm will go down and mingle with Harald’s men. Our faces are doubtless not known to any of them; besides, we are so bespattered with the blood and dust of battle that even friends might fail to recognise us. We will go boldly about among the men, and keep near to the girls until a fitting opportunity offers, when we will seize them and bear them off. This will not be so difficult as ye may think.”

“Difficult!” cried Glumm, grinding his teeth; “I think nothing difficult except sitting still!”

“Because,” continued Erling, “the King’s men will be taken by surprise, and we shall be through the most of them before they are aware that there is need to draw their blades. But (and on this everything will depend) thou must be ready, Ulf, with all the men, to rush, in the twinkling of an eye, to our aid, the moment my shout is heard, for, if this be not done, we cannot fail to be overpowered by numbers. If thou dost but keep them well in play while we make for the boat, and then follow and leap into the river, we shall all escape.”

“Come along, then,” cried Glumm, in desperate impatience.

“Does the plan like thee, Ulf?” asked Erling.

“Not much,” he replied, shaking his head, “but it is the only chance left, so get thee gone. I will not fail thee in the moment of need—away! See, the girls are already being led before the King.”

Erling and Glumm instantly pulled their helmets well down on their brows, wrapped their mantles round them so as to conceal their figures as much as possible, then entered the wood and disappeared.

Meanwhile, on the open space in front of Haldor’s ruined dwelling, King Harald Haarfager stood surrounded by his court men. He was still bespattered with the blood and dust of battle, and furiously angry at the escape of Haldor and the burning of the stede. His gilt helmet restrained the exuberance of his shaggy locks, and he stood on the top of a slight elevation or mound, from the base of which his men extended in a dense ring in front of him, eager to ascertain who it was that had been so unexpectedly captured. Erling and Glumm mingled with the crowd unnoticed, for so many of the men assembled there had been collected from various districts, that, to each, strange faces were the rule instead of the exception.

When the girls were led into the ring there was a murmur of admiration, and many complimentary remarks were made about them. The old hermit was dragged in after them, and excited a little attention for a few moments. He had experienced rough handling from his captors. His grey hair was dishevelled and his face bloodstained, for, although he had offered no resistance, some of the men who seized him were so much out of humour in consequence of the burning of the stede and the escape of its inmates, that they were glad to vent their anger on anyone.

“Good-looking girls, both of them,” remarked the King to Jarl Rongvold, as they were being led forward.—“Who are ye?” he added, addressing them.

Ada looked round on the circle of men with a frightened glance, and cast down her eyes, but did not reply, while Hilda raised her eyes timidly to the King’s face, but lacked courage to speak.

“Come,” said the King sternly, “let us have no false modesty. Ye are before Norway’s King, therefore speak, and to the point. Who art thou?”

He addressed himself to Hilda, who replied—

“I am Hilda, daughter of Ulf of Romsdal.”

“And thou?” he added, turning to her companion.

“My name is Ada. My father is Hakon of Drontheim.”

“Ha!” exclaimed the King, with a bitter smile. “Is it so? Thy father has met his desert, then, for he now lies at the bottom of the fiord.”

Ada turned deadly pale, but made no reply.

“Know ye where Haldor the Fierce is, and his insolent son Erling?” asked the King.

Hilda flushed at this, and answered with some spirit that she did not know, and that if she did she would not tell.

“Of course not,” said the King; “I might have guessed as much, and do but waste my time with ye.—Stand aside—bring forward yonder fellow.”

The hermit was immediately led forward.

“Who art thou?” asked the King.

“An old wanderer on the face of the earth,” replied Christian.

“That is easily seen,” answered the King; “but not too old, it would seem, to do a little mischief when the chance falls in thy way.”

“Methinks, sire,” whispered Jarl Rongvold, “that this fellow is one of those strange madmen who have taken up with that new religion, which I do not profess to understand.”

“Sayest thou so?” exclaimed Harald, “then will I test him.—Ho! fetch me a piece of horse flesh.”

A piece of horse flesh was brought without delay, for some that had been sacrificed in the Drontheim temple had been packed up and carried off among other provisions when the expedition set forth.

“Here, old man, eat thou a portion of that,” said Harald, holding the flesh towards him.

“I may not eat what has been sacrificed to idols,” said the hermit.

“Ho! ho! then thou art not a worshipper of Odin? Say, dog, what art thou?”

“I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is my Saviour. To Him I live, and for Him I can die.”

“Can He save you from me?” demanded Harald.

“He can,” answered the hermit earnestly, “and will save you too, King Harald, from your sins, and all who now hear me, if they will but turn to Him.”

“Now will I test him,” said the King. “Stand forth, Hake of Hadeland, and hew me the old man’s head from his body.”

“Spare him! O spare him!” cried Hilda, throwing herself suddenly between Hake and his victim, who stood with the resigned air of a man who had made up his mind to die. “He has twice saved my life, and has never done you evil in thought or deed.”

“Stand aside, my pretty maid. Nay, then, if thou wilt not, I must grant thy request; but it is upon one condition: that this Saviour shall either come himself or send a champion to deliver the old man.—Come,” he added, turning fiercely to the hermit, “pray that thy God shall send thee a champion now, for if He does not, as I live thou shalt die.”

“I may not pray at thy bidding,” said the hermit calmly; “besides, it needs not that I should, because I have already prayed—before dawn this morning—that He would grant me His blessing in the form that seemed best to Himself.”

“And hast thou got it?”

“I have—in that I possess a quiet spirit, and do not fear to die, now that His time has come.”

“’Tis something this, I admit,” returned the King; “yet methinks ’tis but a poor blessing, after all, with death as the end of it.”

“Death is not the end of it,” said the hermit, with a kindling eye,