The Viking. A novel. By M. R

Chapter I

' 1st Speaker. Come, prithee, friend, and hearken to my tale. 2nd do. Willingly. Treats it of romance ? Visit we the groves of sunny Italy 1 Or go we where the dark-brow'd maids of Spain Wander forth as pilgrims to the holy fane Of St. Iago of Compostello 1 1st do. Neither, friend. We turn to the far-distant, foggy north, With its people so hardy and bold, With eyes that flash like the bright blue steel, And their locks of paley gold.' In the course of eleven centuries, no country has changed more than Norway, or perhaps as much. Its fields and cultivated land, which now, to say the least that j'ustice demands, repay the toil bestowed upon them by the labourer, were then nothing but marshes and morasses, interspersed with impenetrable pine forests, the favourite haunt of the wolf and the bear.

Now its shores are visited by foreigners of all nations, attracted there by business or pleasure ; then it was regarded with super stitious awe by the more civilised parts of Europe as the chosen abode of those grisly gods, Odin and Thor ; over its morasses and along its shores flew the dismal fate-maidens, with shrieks more piercing than the howls of the wolves. And well did the character of its in habitants accord with that won for it by its inhospitable shores, who, under the various names of Scandinavians, Goths, Northmen, or Danes, century after century, rolled their tide of devastations over more peaceful Europe. Many came forth never to return ; others, as if gorged with their prey, returned at intervals to their mountain fastnesses, to repose and to recruit, and then to come forth again with fresh vigour, and a seemingly inexhaustible band of plunderers, to harry the shores of those unhappy countries whose inhabitants were too weak to defend themselves.

Nevertheless, with all their cruelty, and barbarity, there is a charm about them that attracts us; their wild courage and wilder generosity rivet our attention, and we listen more willingly to the tales and legends of their doings than we do to the tame chronicles of prosperous, industrious citizens; and this is why they seem to us fit heroes for a tale, wild and rude as themselves. It must not, however, be supposed that it is at all intended to give a perfect portrait of either the Viking's character or manners; that were far indeed beyond the writer's power, who will be quite content if the wild Northmen are placed in anything of an amusino or interesting light, from whom, according to tradition, she may claim in some remote degree to be descended. On a bold projecting rock, at the entrance of a long, narrow, Norwegian gulf, there stood, towards the end of the ■eighth century, a large wattled building overlooking the sea, separated from the edge of the cliff by a mere strip, but sufficiently wide to allow a beacon to be kindled upon it in times of necessity without much risk of setting the dwelling on fire.

Below, the cliff sunk perpendicularly into the sea, which dashed its fury against the base, and sometimes during the winter storms threw its spray up high enough to wet those who were walking on the ter race. Behind the dwelling was a dark pine forest, which extended many a mile into the interior and down nearly to the sea on the right ; there the cliff a few miles farther on gradually subsided, and ended in a morass, which separated the sea from the forest. To the left, on the other side of the estuary, was a mighty cliff, which rose hke a giant amid his surroundings, and well served as a landmark for leagues out to sea. Here, in this rude dwelling, lived Oscar, the ' sea king,' as he was proudly called by his kinsmen and fol lowers — ' sea-robber,' as he was more contemptuously designated by those who perhaps had but too much reason for what they said of him, that he was the fiercest of all the Vikings that at that period harassed the northern and western shores of Europe.

Here he lived in savage grandeur, declaring, by the very rudeness of his dwelling, that his home was not on the land, but, like the sea-birds, he only sought there temporary repose. On the shores of the gulf dwelt his followers, rough, hardy men, who, like their lord, sighed at the inglorious inactivity to which winter had reduced them, and longed for the return of spring, that they might again launch their galleys, which, now drawn up high and dry out 1—2 of the way of the winter storms, showed, by the care and strength with which they were built, that their owners put far more value upon them than they did upon the rude hovels where they passed the dark months of the year. At this season, when you went through the village (if the miserable huts deserved such a name), you might see many a stalwart warrior, but upon the height above, all was still; for, except at stated times of high festival or solemn religious rite, Oscar lived much alone.

A few weeks hence, the icy chains of winter will be broken, and then all will be gone, except a few too aged and decrepit to accompany the warriors. These were no serfs following a feudal lord, but free-born, proud, unyielding men ; yet, devoted to Oscar, and bound to him by the strongest attachment, they would have fol lowed him through fire and water, and they cheerfully obeyed his least command. And yet Oscar possessed none of those qualities which constitute a popular leader. He was neither gay, merry, nor courteous, had no power of oratory, was gloomy, taciturn, no lover of the festive board, and sternly condemned all excess thereat ; he ruled by the mere force of an iron will, undaunted courage, and per severance, that was alike undisturbed by prosperity, un broken by adversity. His followers loved him pas sionately, went without questioning wherever he led them, as with him there was but one alternative, death or victory — they left their bones mouldering on the field, or they carried away their black ravens in triumph.

It was just the close of winter ; the frost and snow had had it all their own way for many months, but though spring was beginning to gain ground daily, almost hourly, she had to fight hard for every inch she won, and now and then she was, as it were, beaten back by a fiercer onslaught than usual, and had to begin the strife again. It was getting late in the day ; the sun, having done his best to melt the snow during some hours, was tending towards the west ; the upper country was still bright, but many spots close down by the river were already growing dark ; and the Northmen's galleys threw dark shadows along the beach. Two children, a boy and girl, were playing up and down among the boats. The boy, who looked about twelve years old, was dressed, according to the fashion of the age and country, in a loose upper garment, made of the rudely tanned fur of some wild animal, and confined at the waist by a girdle of wolf-skin, in which was stuck a short dagger ; his head had no other covering than its own dark hair, which, together with his well formed frame, betokening rather agility than strength, and his bright hazel eyes, showed a more southern descent : while his exceedingly fair skin, now flushed with air and exercise, proved that there was, at least, some of the Northman's blood in his veins : probably he was the child of some southern maiden, who, from necessity rather than love, had wedded her stern con queror.

His companion, who might be a year younger than himself, wore a robe of some coarse woollen material, and, in spite of the severity of the season, her arms and neck were bare, except for the circlets of gold she wore upon each ; her luxuriant hair, which glittered and sparkled in the sun like the purest gold, fell unconfiued over her shoulders in masses that were rather wild than disorderly ; her bright blue eyes flashed from be neath their long lashes, and the whole appearance of the little maiden was imperious and commanding, yet irresistibly attractive. For some time the children played happily enough ; but at last a dispute arose about something the boy wished his companion to do and she would not, and he exclaimed rather passionately : ' Thou must obey me, Ehunelda, since I am to be thy lord and husband.' ' My husband, perhaps ; my lord, never,' said Rhu nelda defiantly. ' And if I wed thee at all is still to be seen ; perhaps I may not choose to marry a stranger, as thou art, Eric' ' I am not a stranger, Rhunelda,' said Eric proudly, ' and that thou knowest.' ' I know,' retorted Ehunelda, ' what old Osric says, about how thou Avast brought here when thou wast a babe.

Thou art none of ours ; thou knowest my father never calls thee son.' ' Then why does not thy father send me back to my own people,' said Eric. ' I would be with them, for I like thee not when thou art cross, Rhunelda.' ' Ask my father why he does not send thee back,' said Rhunelda. ' Ah ! thou darest not !' ' I dare !' said the boy fiercely. 'Ask him, then, now,' said Ehunelda; 'there he comes along the sand with "Wolf. If thou art not afraid, now is thy time.' And Rhunelda looked mischievously and mockingly at her companion from over the edge of the galley, into which she had climbed while they had been talking. Eric was no coward, and now he had been provoked beyond endurance by Rhunelda's taunts; but he shrank, and involuntarily drew back a step, as the Viking approached them, striding slowly along the beach, wrapped in his bearskin, and holding in his hand his massive war-axe, followed by a large dog, fitly named Wolf, after the grisly animals he so much resembled.

Oscar's face was strangely like his little daughter's there was the same flashing blue eye, the same haughty air, the same golden locks, though age and exposure had worn the Viking's darker; and there was a gloomy, lowering expression on his face, not yet, at least, to be seen on Ehunelda's young features. Even she was awed into silence by his appearance ; but if no longer ven turing to make, her voice heard, her eyes still dared Eric to speak to her father. And Eric stepped forward to meet the Viking, who would have passed by the children without paying them any attention, and who did not look particularly pleased at the interruption, as he asked, somewhat impatiently : ' What wouldest thou, boy V ' Uncle,' said Eric, for so he had been taught to ad dress the Viking, whatever their relationship to one another might warrant — ' uncle, I have a favour to ask of thee.' ' And what is it V said the Viking, looking not un kindly down upon the handsome boy. ' Is it that thou wishest to come with me the next time the black raven floats abroad ?

Thou art too young yet ; thou couldest not defend thyself; thou wouldest only be a trouble and a charge. Play with Ehunelda for yet a few years, and then ' He was moving on ; but Eric exclaimed desperately : ' It is not that I want ; I wish to be restored to my people and my home.' ' What, boy ?' said Oscar incredulously. ' To go home,' said Eric, ' from where thou hast kept me so long.' Oscar's forehead contracted, and his eyes flashed fire from beneath their shaggy brows, as he responded harshly : ' Hast thou not here all thou needest ?' ' Everything,' said Eric ; ' but I will be a free man, and not thy slave !' ' Insolent child !' said Oscar, raising his club threaten ingly. ' I will chastise thee as thou deservest.' But Ehunelda, naughty child as she was, had yet a generous heart, and could not bear to see her playfellow punished for what was in a great measure her fault, and springing forward, she caught her father's uplifted hand, exclaiming : ' Oh, father ! do not strike him ; he only wants to go home because I am cross and will not promise to be his wife.' But these words only added fuel to Oscar's fury. ' His wife !' he almost shouted. ' Who dares to say that V ' All the old people,' said Ehunelda, opening her eyes wide in amazement. ' And I will be his wife, too, if I like,' she added defiantly. ' Never !' said her father, and stamped his foot till the rock rang again. ' Thou shalt die sooner than marry that base-born slave.' And he grasped the child's shoulder until the pain, though it could not draw from her a sound, brought the tears to her eyes.

All Eric's anger against his playfellow was now gone, and he rushed against the Viking, exclaiming : ' Let her go, I say — let her go !' ' Mind thine own work, child,' said the Viking, throw ing him back ; ' and thou ' (to his daughter), I will teach thee better.' And he lifted Rhunelda in his arms. She struggled violently, like one unused to control of any kind, and not likely to bow to such rough authority as this. Eric once again made the vain attempt of releasing her. Oscar, exasperated beyond all bounds, struck him so that he fell, and lay for the moment stunned and senseless. ' Thou hast killed him ! thou hast killed him !' cried Ehunelda ; and, exerting all her strength, she dealt her father a blow in the face. From any one else this would have cost a life ; but Oscar was less irritated by his daughter's violence than he had been by Eric's defiance. ' Tush, chdd !' he said, securing both her hands in one of his. ' He is no more dead than I am.

See !' And he threw some of the cold salt water from a pool in the rocks over Eric's face. ' His colour is returning. But, child,' he added, his voice growing terribly deep and stern, ' thou shalt dearly pay this day's work.' And holding her so firmly that all resistance, and even all movement, became impossible, he wrapt his bearskin cloak closely around her, and, followed by his savage attendant, Wolf, strode away with her in his arms along the beach. Eric raised himself on his elbow, and watched the retreating form of the Viking with an expression of the deepest hatred on his young features. ' Oh !' he exclaimed bitterly, as he got on to his feet, ' if I only had the power to avenge myself, I would ' ' Forgive him !' said a calm, deep voice beside him. Eric started, and perceived, standing near him, an aged man with a snowy beard, wrapt in a mantle of frieze, with bare sandalled feet, leaning upon a staff, gazing out to sea with a strange, far-away look ; and as he pronounced these words, he turned his eyes full upon Eric, and their quiet expression insensibly stilled the angry boy, though his tone was impatient as he said : ' Forgive him ?

Yes ; and what should I gain by it ? To be scorned by all about me as a coward, tamely submitting to an insult ; to forfeit all my right to be gathered to the brave band of warriors in the halls of Valhalla.' ' Still, thou wouldest be doing right in forgiving him,' said his companion. ' Look what he has done to me,' said Eric, impatiently throwing off the soothing hand that was laid upon his arm ; ' look at the blow he gave me !' ' From which, I fear me, thou art suffering,' said the other gently. ' I care not for the pain,' said Eric ; ' it is the insult. And then see how he has taken Rhunelda away from me. I know too well where he has gone — to the cave of Freya. He always goes there as soon as the frost is. sufficiently relaxed to allow of the journey. There he will dedicate her to revenge, and she will despise me for weakly submitting like a slave ; and I will not.' The other sighed.

But if Ehunelda was at that moment beyond the reach of his teaching, Eric was still near him ; so he made another attempt to soothe his angry companion by saying : ' But, Eric, this is an injury done to thyself alone ; for it is not possible that Oscar will harm his daughter. And he has always given thee the protection of a father ;. has he not by that obtained the right to chastise thee as a son ? Look upon it in that way, and I think thou wilt no longer be so wrathful.' ' I have said before,' replied Eric, ' that I care not for the blow ; but, look thee, has he not, by keeping me from my kindred, inflicted upon us a mortal insult and injury, that can only be wiped out by blood ? There fore, revenge is a sacred duty with me, and I will fulfil it.' And Eric tossed back his head with proud determination.

His companion said no more. They had now reached a point where it was impossible to pursue the argument further without striking a blow at the root of the whole religion of the Northmen, and that he was at present in no condition to do ; so he changed the topic by saying: ls ' It will doubtless be long before Oscar returns ; and see, the sun is already low, and thou art in need of repose and food; the blood flows from thy forehead. Come home with me, and thou shalt have something to eat.' And now, indeed, that the excitement was a little over, Eric was turning very faint, and when he attempted to move he staggered, and would have fallen had not his DO ' companion thrown a protecting arm round him. They turned towards the cliffs, at this point access ible by means of a narrow gully, which had been worn away by a little streamlet, here joining the ocean in its own wild wray, instead of following the usual course of its compeers to the mighty river.

A little later it would come, rushing and foaming, through the tiny opening ; but now both it, and the bushes that overhung it, were completely frozen, and afforded a means of scaling the cliff, so steep and precipitous, that at first sight it seemed as if even a mountain goat would be puzzled how to ascend it. Nevertheless, Eric and his companion began to climb, the old man moving with far more agility and lightness than might have been expected from his aged appearance ; and though as they went farther Eric flagged more and more, until he was wholly leaning for support upon his friend, the •old man shrank not, and it was mainly through him that they at last reached the summit and found them selves on the outskirts of the pine forest, at a spot where the farthest sentinels reached so near the edge of the cliff, that when the storms were high, their boughs were frequently wetted by the spray of the angry sea.

Here it was complete twilight ; but the old man moved forward with the steady step of one well ac quainted with the locality, his arm supporting Eric, though he was himself obliged to lean heavily upon his staff for assistance. In this way they proceeded for a good quarter of a mile inland, always bearing in a southerly direction, until they suddenly found them selves upon the banks of a tiny pool, which drained into the marsh we have already mentioned. Here a. clump of alders threw their bare branches against the sky, and between them and the pool, completely shel tered against every wind, was a small hut, built of pine logs, the interstices of which were filled with dry, sweet gale from the bog close at hand. The roof was of reeds, fastened and secured by shingles. The interior of the hut was bare, almost rude.

In one corner was a couch, composed of dry heather, over which was stretched a deer-skin; opposite was a shelf, and — a strange sight in this land of barbarity and war — hanging above it a cross, roughly fashioned from firwood ; on the shelf — more wonderful still — lay a parchment book! . The third side opposite to the entrance was filled by an oblong box. When a fire was needed by the simple owner of this dwelling, he kindled it either in the centre of his hut or outside, as circumstances dictated. The old man having at length reached his place of refuge, seated the weary boy upon a large square stone, which, placed just inside the entrance, served as a bench. He then went to the chest, and took from it a flask, from which he poured a few drops into some water. With this he bathed Eric's brow ; and though the boy would have disdained to own that he had been in pain, his look of relief was a sufficient reward to his kind host, who next produced some rye-cakes aud a preparation of goat's milk, probably intended for his own supper.

These he handed to Eric, having first put a little from the same flask into the milk ; but though Eric eagerly drank off the beverage, he could not eat. His host, seeing how sorely he was in need of rest, helped him to take off his upper garment, stiff from the frosty air outside, laid him down on the bed, carefully covering him with the deer-skin. He soon had the satisfaction of seeing his remedies take effect ; for, soothed and eased in mind and body, Eric fell into a profound slumber. While the young sea-king thus rests himself, we will, as a calm conclusion to this somewhat stormy chapter, tell our readers who this man was, thus preaching peace and forgiveness in a land where either quality was lightly esteemed. Twenty years before the opening of the story, Oscar had carried his marauding bands far to the south, until at length they arrived off the coast of Italy.

Here they landed, with the intention of making something of a settlement; but this time they had reckoned without their host. The inhabitants round their proposed colony flew to arms, and, far outnumbering them, succeeded in repelling the Norsemen, who only escaped to their ships with great loss, carrying with them as their sole booty one poor Christian priest. The enraged and disappointed robbers would have taken his life in revenge for their defeat ; but Oscar, whatever he might do later, had not at that time, at any rate, become so savage and cruel as to find comfort for his own losses in the blood of his helpless captives ; und he spared Priest John's life, dooming him, however, to a fate which by many would have been regarded as little better than death itself — to be a slave in a distant and barbarous country.

But Priest John had in a large measure the Christian virtue of contentment, and he cheerfully acquiesced in his lot, and served Oscar to the best of his power and abilities. However, before long it was discovered that he was a Christian, and then the fanatical priests of Odin and Thor called for his blood as a sacrifice to their gods ; but once again a seeming chance interposed to save him. Oscar was faithful to the religion of his ancestors, but he was proud — intensely proud— and in this in stance his pride came to moderate his zeal. He had taken Priest John under his protection, and he would not give ■ him up ; he had said that his captive should live, and the sea-king was not capricious ; but though he thus interposed his powerful protection between John and his persecutors, he had lost all his affection for his slave, and treated him %yith indifference.

Little by little, he was allowed to withdraw himself from his master's service, passing first .days, then weeks out of the house, until, as time wore on, he came to live entirely in the little hut where we have found him. In the course of twenty years, all those who were con cerned in the voyage when he was taken captive had died out, or, if they still lived and were active, fresh deeds of war and bloodshed, brilliant, intoxicating suc cess, ' wore memory of the past away,' and John was suffered to live in his hermitage forgotten and un molested. At first he had tried to make converts ; but Oscar, whoever else might forget the existence of their Christian prisoner, though he might despise him, never lost sight of him, and seemed to have resolved, as a sort of counterbalance to his generosity in saving his life, to watch and see that he did no mischief by spread- Isj THE VIKING. ing his doctrines; so at the first appearance of the attempt to teach those about him, Oscar sternly threat ened him with instant death unless he at once gave up his preaching.

No one would more willingly, or more gladly have laid down his life in the service of the Master he loved so well ; but he felt that his death at this point would benefit no one, and it was too nearly what he wished, for him to think it would be right to seek it ; so he gave up his hopeless attempt to convert the stern old warriors and patiently bided his time, passing his days in praying for the fierce heathens about him, in meditating, and studying the Gospel of St. Matthew, a parchment which he had saved when his monastery was sacked, and which ever since had been his greatest comfort. And now at last, after these dark years, the time that he had been waiting for seemed to be drawing near. Eric and Ehunelda made great friends with him ; the children often met him in their rambles, and the kindly priest was one to win their hearts ; he told them tales of the wild animals, with whom in his solitary silent life he had made acquaintance, mingling his tales with lessons of peace, forgiveness and truth, as he saw his hearers were able to bear them.

He never ventured openly to preach Christianity ; they were too young to make a choice, or to understand it, and Oscar watched him with a jealous eye ; but he carefully prepared the ground and sowed the seed, and waited patiently, with the prayerful hope, that he might one day reap the fruit of his labours.

Chapter II

' He paused ; the word the vassals took. With forward step and fiery look, On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook, And first in murmur low, Then like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source, ■ And flings to shore his mustered force, Burst in loud roar their answer hoarse, " Woe to the traitor, woe I" ' Sir W. Scott — Lady of the Lake. Long lasted Eric's sleep, and long and patiently watched by him his kind host, first beguiling the time with his cherished book, then, when it grew too dark for this exercise, he sat with his hands folded, lost in medita tion, perhaps in prayer. When the boy at last opened his eyes, his first inquiry was where he was, his next, what might be the hour.

John went to the opening of the hut, and examined the skies, now thickly studded with stars. ' It must be past seven of the evening,' he said. ' Oscar will have been back long ago,' exclaimed Eric, springing up, ' I must home at once.' ' Wilt not rest till morning ?' said his entertainer. ' Thanks, no,' said Eric. ' I am quite fresh, and I will not have Rhunelda say that I kept away because I was afraid.' ' But thou wilt be patient ?' said John doubtfully. ' If Ehunelda is not cross,' said Eric, laughing, but in a very different way to what he had done before his o sleep ; his expression was bright, and all traces of his anger, evanescent as it was violent, had disappeared. ' Yes, I will try, because you ask me, and you are always good ; but,' he added gravely, ' you must not ask me to forgive him, for that I cannot do.' John sighed, but it was a sigh that ended in a smile ; he could not despair of his pupil while the boy showed such affection towards himself ; here was love, the first germ of all that was good — so he again looked to Eric's bruise, which was now very much less inflamed, and told him to let him see it again soon, should it be at all painful.

This Eric promised to do, saying he would come again the next day and bring Rhunelda with him, if she were anything like in a good temper. John laughed, for Eric's merry manner was infectious, and hoped that the boy would reach home without misadventure. ' No fear of that,' laughed Eric ; ' the distance is short ; but do not thou, father, come into the cold — farewell.' And Eric bounded joyously away, like the free-hearted young sea-king he was. It was a lovely night ; the stars shone with the bril liancy peculiar to northern climes, and the pines, each with its snow-crowned top, stretched as far as eye could reach in either direction. A solemn silence reigned in the wood — there was no sound except where perchance a branch, aided by the power of that day's sun, shook itself free from its load of snow, which fell with a dull thud on the ground beneath.