Erling the Bold. Robert Michael Ballantyne

stood before him, disarmed and helpless, gazing in speechless astonishment at the hilt which remained in his hands.

      “My good sword!” he exclaimed, in a tone of deep despondency.

      At this Erling burst into a hearty fit of laughter. “My bad sword, thou must mean,” said he. “How often have I told thee, Glumm, that there was a flaw in the metal! I have advised thee more than once to prove the blade, and now that thou hast consented to do so, behold the result! But be not so cast down, man; I have forged another blade specially for thyself, friend Glumm, but did not think to give it thee so soon.”

      Glumm stood abashed, and had not a word to reply. Fortunately his feelings were relieved by the attention of the whole party being attracted at that moment to the figure of a man on the opposite side of the valley, who ran towards them at full speed, leaping over almost every obstacle that presented itself in his course. In a few minutes he rushed, panting, into the midst of the throng, and presented a baton or short piece of wood to Ulf, at the same time exclaiming: “Haste! King Harald holds a Thing at the Springs. Speed on the token.”

      The import of this message and signal were well understood by the men of Horlingdal. When an assembly or Thing was to be convened for discussing civil matters a wooden truncheon was sent round from place to place by fleet messengers, each of whom ran a certain distance, and then delivered over his “message-token” to another runner, who carried it forward to a third, and so on. In this manner the whole country could be roused and its chief men assembled in a comparatively short time. When, however, the Thing was to be assembled for the discussion of affairs pertaining to war, an arrow split in four parts was the message-token. When the split arrow passed through the land men were expected to assemble armed to the teeth, but when the baton went round it was intended that they should meet without the full panoply of war.

      As soon as the token was presented, Ulf looked about for a fleet man to carry forward the message. Several of the youths at once stepped forward offering their services. Foremost among them was a stout, deep-chested active boy of about twelve years of age, with long flaxen curls, a round sunburnt face, a bold yet not forward look, a merry smile, and a pair of laughing blue eyes. This was Erling’s little brother Alric—a lad whose bosom was kept in a perpetual state of stormy agitation by the conflict carried on therein between a powerful tendency to fun and mischief, and a strong sense of the obedience due to parents.

      “I will go,” said the boy eagerly, holding out his hand for the token.

      “Thou, my son?” said Haldor, regarding him with a look of ill-suppressed pride. “Go to thy mother’s bower, boy. What if a fox, or mayhap even a wolf, met thee on the fell?”

      “Have I not my good bow of elm?” replied Alric, touching the weapon, which, with a quiver full of arrows, was slung across his back.

      “Tush! boy; go pop at the squirrels till thou be grown big enough to warrant thy boasting.”

      “Father,” said Alric with a look of glee, “I’m sure I did not boast. I did but point to my poor weapons. Besides, I have good legs. If I cannot fight, methinks I can run.”

      “Out upon thee—”

      “Nay, Haldor,” said Ulf, interrupting the discussion, “thou art too hard on the lad. Can he run well?”

      “I’ll answer for that,” said Erling, laying his large hand on his brother’s flaxen head. “I doubt if there is a fleeter foot in all the dale.”

      “Away then,” cried Ulf, handing the token to Alric, “and see that ye deserve all this praise. And now, sirs, let us fare to the hall to sup and prepare for our journey to the Springs.”

      The crowd at once broke up and hurried away to Ulfstede in separate groups, discussing eagerly as they went, and stepping out like men who had some pressing business on hand. Alric had already darted away like a hunted deer.

      Erling turned hastily aside and went away alone. As soon as he reached a spot where the rugged nature of the ground concealed him from his late companions, he started up the valley at his utmost speed, directing his course so as to enable him to overshoot and intercept his brother. He passed a gorge ahead of the boy; and then, turning suddenly to the left, bore down upon him. So well did he calculate the distance, that on turning round the edge of a jutting cliff he met him face to face, and the two ran somewhat violently into each other’s arms.

      On being relieved from this involuntary embrace, Alric stepped back and opened his eyes wide with surprise, while Erling roared with laughter.

      “Ye are merry, my brother,” said Alric, relaxing into a grin, “but I have seen thee often thus, and may not stop to observe thee now, seeing that it is nothing new.”

      “Give me an arrow, thou rogue! There,” said Erling, splitting the shaft into four parts, handing it back to the boy, and taking the baton from him. “Get thee gone, and use thy legs well. We must not do the King the dishonour to appear before him without our weapons in these unsettled times. Let the token be sent out north, south, east, and west; and, harkee, lad, say nothing to anyone about the object of the assembly.”

      Alric’s countenance became grave, then it again relaxed into a broad grin. Giving his brother an emphatic wink with one of his large blue eyes, he darted past him, and was soon far up the glen, running with the speed of a deer and waving the war-token over his head.

      Chapter Four.

      Describes Warlike Preparations, and a Norse Hall in the Olden Time—Tells also of a Surprise

      Instead of returning to Ulfstede, Erling directed his steps homeward at a brisk pace, and in a short space of time reached the door of his forge. Here he met one of his father’s thralls.

      “Ho! fellow,” said he, “is thy mistress at home?”

      “Yes, master, she is in the hall getting supper ready against your father’s return.”

      “Go tell her there will be no men to eat supper in the hall to-night,” said Erling, unfastening the door of the forge. “Say that I am in the forge, and will presently be in to speak with her. Go also to Thorer, and tell him to get the house-carles busked for war. When they are ready let him come hither to me; and, harkee, use thine utmost speed; there may be bloody work for us all to do this night before the birds are on the wing. Away!”

      The man turned and ran to the house, while Erling blew up the smouldering fire of the forge. Throwing off his jerkin, he rolled up his sleeves, and seizing the axe on which he had been engaged when Hilda interrupted him, he wrought so vigorously at the stubborn metal with the great forehammer that in the course of half an hour it was ready to fit on the haft. There was a bundle of hafts in a corner of the workshop. One of these, a tough thick one without knot or flaw, and about five feet long, he fitted to the iron head with great neatness and skill. The polishing of this formidable weapon he deferred to a period of greater leisure. Having completed this piece of work, Erling next turned to another corner of the forge and took up the huge two-handed sword which he had made for his friend Glumm.

      The weapon was beautifully executed, and being highly polished, the blade glittered with a flashing light in the ruddy glare of the forge fire. The young giant sat down on his anvil and put a few finishing touches to the sword, regarding it the while with a grim smile, as if he speculated on the probability of his having formed a weapon wherewith his own skull was destined to be cloven asunder. While he was thus engaged his mother Herfrida entered.

      The soft-eyed dame could scarcely be called a matronly personage. Having married when about sixteen, she was now just thirty-eight years of age; and though the bloom of maidenhood was gone, the beauty of a well-favoured and healthy woman still remained. She wore a cloak of rich blue wool, and under it a scarlet kirtle with a silver girdle.

      “How now, my son,” she said; “why these warlike preparations?”

      “Because there is rumour of war; I’m sure that is neither strange nor new to you, mother.”

      “Truly no; and well do I know that where war is, there my husband and my son will be found.”

      Herfrida said this with a feeling of pride, for, like most of the women