Adventure (magazine)/Volume 46/Number 1/Swain's Justice

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

Swain’s Justice

A Complete Novelette

By

Arthur D. Howden Smith

Author of “Porto Bello Gold,” “Swain Jarl-Maker,” etc.

ERIK BITLING—Little Bit—whom some men called “Crooked Legs” and who was forecastle man to Swain Olaf’s son, was noted far and wide in the North countries for his wise saws and it was he who made the saying, “A little word brings a Jarl’s death.” But between the word and the death many things happened, and the manner of their occurrence was in this wise:

In the time when Jarl Rognvald and Jarl Harald’s son ruled jointly in the Orkneyar and Caithness their two principal chiefs were Swain Olaf’s son and one Thorbiorn Klerk, who had his name from his wisdom in council. Of these two, Swain was the best known and the most powerful, for it was said of him that he was the greatest man in the Norse lands of those who held no title. And indeed, many scalds have sung that had it not been for his lifelong preoccupation in a feud with Olvir Rosta, grandson to Frakork the Witch—the tale of which has been told otherwhere—he would have become another such ruler as Magnus Barelegs or Harald Fairhair; but whether that is true or not we can not say, for he was content with the respect and honor his prowess won and preferred to exercise his influence through others rather than be acclaimed Jarl or King.

Thorbiorn was so famous that he suffered by comparison only with Swain, and of this fact there is reason to suppose him to have been jealous. Nevertheless they were close friends for long years, and Thorbiorn wedded Swain’s sister, Ingrid. He was exceedingly popular, and being kin to Jarl Harald, was highly regarded by the young Jarl, who was accustomed to lean upon his counsel.

Swain was a famous viking leader, and it chanced one year that Thorbiorn proposed sailing in company with him upon a cruise to the Sudreyar^[1] and the Syllingar^[2] and the west coast of Bretland.^[3] They took with them five ships: Swain’s big dragon Death-Bringer, of thirty oars a side, two other longships of his, each of twenty oars a side, and two of Thorbiorn’s, also of twenty oars each. As it chanced, the luck was with them on this undertaking, and they acquired much booty, so that the long-ships were crammed with goods and gear until the rowers were hampered at the oars. They turned their prows northward in midsummer, and with fair weather came to the coast of Caithness where Thorbiorn held lands by Thorsa. And here Thorbiorn made signal that he desired a council. So the ships were drawn together, prow to prow, and the chiefs took station on the forecastles whence they could speak with one another.

“As I am near to my estate, Swain, I propose to leave you here,” began Thorbiorn.

“I have no objection to that,” answered Swain.

“In that case, we had best divide the plunder now,” said Thorbiorn.

“So far as I am concerned, the division we have made is fair enough,” rejoined Swain. “My ships are full and so are yours.”

Thorbiorn scowled.

“You may think so, but I do not,” he barked. “When two chiefs sail in company they divide equally.”

Swain’s answer to this was a short laugh.

“He who sails with me takes what I allow him,” he said.

“Not if his name be Thorbiorn!”

“If his name be Thorbiorn or aught else.”

“You will earn yourself a new reputation—for being overbearing and inequitable,” fumed Thorbiorn. “My men did most of the fighting in Uladstir.^[4]”

“That may be true,” assented Swain, “but it is equally true that they had the pick of the plundering there. And it is also true that I had almost twice as many men on the expedition as you.”

“And for that reason you would over-ride me!”

Swain considered this deliberately.

“No, no,” he said finally. “You are a friend of long standing, Thorbiorn, and eke my sister’s husband. I will take from you what I would not from another, and agree to submit our case to the Jarls for judgment.”

Now, at this there were outcries from the different ships, and the truth is that several of Thorbiorn’s men spoke up in Swain’s favor, for Swain was known for a rough-tongued, straightforward man, who ordinarily seized whatever he desired and paid for it if he wished, and not otherwise.

“Let be, Thorbiorn,” they counseled. “This is more than Swain ever before offered any man who challenged him.”

“I cannot help myself,” retorted Thorbiorn ill-temperedly. “As you say, Swain, you have nigh twice as many men as I, and a dragon and two longships to my two. I must accept the slight you put upon me.”

“Slight?” repeated Swain. “What slight have I——”

“You cannot dismiss it in that fashion,” exclaimed Thorbiorn. “I laid claim to my just share of our spoils, and you refused it to me.”

Swain stroked his long, ruddy beard.

“Yes,” he answered slowly, “you laid claim to your just share—and your just share shall you have. But I never heard before that a chief with two ships must share equally with a chief with three ships.”

“That is to be seen,” replied Thorbiorn, and he climbed down from the prow of his longship, and strode aft along the gangway between the rowing-benches, bidding his men pull on after Swain’s ships to Orphir, where the two Jarls had their steadings.

“Here is a fellow whose hands have swollen from the oar-bite until they think to clasp more than human hands ever held,” commented Erik Bitling as Swain frowned astern at Thorbiorn’s longships.

“We will prick his blisters,” growled Swain. “He may be my sister’s man and Jarl Harald’s kin, but he shall not possess what is not his.”

 

II

JARL ROGNVALD and Jarl Harald were sitting at the high table in the skalli at Orphir when Swain and Thorbiorn tramped in at the head of their friends, and the two Jarls rose from their chairs and went forward to embrace the chieftains.

“You are welcome,” cried Jarl Rognvald.

“Was your cruise successful that you are returned house so early?” asked Jarl Harald.

“We have fetched home much plunder and a quarrel,” replied Swain before Thorbiorn could speak.

But Thorbiorn was quick to catch the advantage.

“I am come to appeal for justice, Lord Jarls,” he declared.

“For justice?” repeated Jarl Rognvald. “Against whom, Thorbiorn?”

And Jarl Harald stared from one to the other of the two viking chiefs, a frown of bewilderment upon his face, for he loved both of them beyond any of the rest of his friends; Swain for that he had fostered him, aye, and secured him his share in the Jarldom, and Thorbiorn because the Caithness man was his cousin and had been his dose adviser since youth.

“Against Swain,” returned Thorbiorn to Jarl Rognvald’s question.

“But Swain is your wife’s brother,” protested Jarl Rognvald. “What? Must viking-farers of such renown, who have fought and cruised together all these years, fall out upon some trivial question?”

“It is no trivial question, Lord Jarl,” asserted Thorbiorn. “Swain defrauds me of my just share of the booty our expedition has taken.”

Jarl Rognvald looked askance at the two of them.

“It is well-known that Swain has a heavy hand, and is given to taking what he wishes,” he said, “but I have never known him to be ungenerous with his fellows.”

And Jarl Harald spoke up.

“This quarrel had best be composed here,” he urged nervously. “We cannot afford to have men like Swain and Thorbiorn falling out. It is unthinkable that they should be separated by a dispute over plunder.”

“Yet over plunder have they disagreed,” observed Swain grimly.

Jarl Rognvald turned to him.

“What have you to say to this?” he demanded. “Thorbiorn has made a charge against you? Do you deny it?”

“How else should I be here, Lord Jarl?”

“I appeal for justice, Lord Jarls,” demanded Thorbiorn again. “I am put to the inconvenience of coming all the way hither to Hrossey when I have not seen my lands in Caithness since the Spring, and I ask a swift justice.”

“If justice is asked, justice shall be done,” Jarl Rognvald assured him. “Come, Harald, we will go back to our seats, and hear what Swain and Thorbiorn have to say.”

But Jarl Harald shook his head.

“In this case I may not dispense justice,” he answered, “for, as all men know, I am connected by blood with Thorbiorn, while Swain fostered me in my youth. I love them both beyond other men, and I would not have either consider that he had grounds for nourishing a grudge against me by reason of an unfavorable judgment.”

Thorbiorn’s face fell at this, for he had counted much upon Jarl Harald’s friendship to aid him in his suit.

“Why, there is nothing to choose from as regards your relationship with Swain and me,” he argued. “We are on an even footing with you.”

“I will not give judgment in this case,” returned Jarl Harald stubbornly. “Moreover, it is always best to let one man judge a suit, when reliance can be placed upon that man’s fairness.”

There was a murmur of approval from the hall.

“Yes, yes,” called the boendr and the house-carls. “Rognvald is fair. Let the old Jarl judge.”

“What say you, Thorbiorn?” asked Jarl Rognvald.

“I will accept what I must,” he replied gruffly.

“And you, Swain?”

“It is all one to me, Lord Jarl,” said Swain. “The case is simple enough.”

Jarl Rognvald sighed.

“Two and twenty years have I been Jarl in these islands,” he said unhappily, “and never have I been called upon to decide a more unwelcome suit, since either way I must offend a man I hold in much affection and respect. However, if chiefs disagree it is better that they should adjust their differences by law than by weapon clashings. “You are the complainant, Thorbiorn. State your case.”

So Thorbiorn Klerk came up to the dais, and Swain beside him, and he set forth his claim that he and his men had sustained most of the fighting during the expedition and had suffered the greater man-scathe, and that therefore he held they were entitled at least to a fair half of the booty. Jarl Rognvald heard him out in silence.

“You say that you lost twelve men by weapon-scathe, whereas Swain lost but eight men,” said the Jarl when Thorbiorn had finished. “Now, I ask you this: Was Swain backward in the fighting? Did he delay to come to your aid whenever there was an on-fall?”

“No, that is not my contention,” admitted Thorbiorn reluctantly.

“It was by chance, then, that you suffered more than he?”

“No, no, Lord Jarl,” objected Thorbiorn. “If I had not harried the enemy when I did they would have had time to muster their strength and might have beaten us off.”

“And if Swain had chanced upon them first, he must have done the same?”

Thorbiorn wiggled uncomfortably.

“Yes,” he answered at last.

“So that it was the hazard of battle, and not——”

“But, Lord Jarl,” shouted Thorbiorn angrily, “of eight score men I lost twelve, and Swain only eight out of nigh fourteen score.”

There was a rustle of movement in the hall, a chuckle here and there. Jarl Rognvald caressed his beard thoughtfully.

“Swain brought fourteen score men and you eight score,” he commented. “And he had a dragon and two longships to your two longships.”

“But I lost——”

“Peace, Thorbiorn. You have stated your loss.”

“Yes, and I must pay manbote to their families!”

“True! That is the hazard any chief accepts when he leads men viking-faring. Swain might have been in worse case, for he had more men to lose.”

“I see not that that had aught to do with it,” growled Thorbiorn. “’Twas I lost twelve men and he——”

The Jarl turned from him to Swain.

“Do you dispute anything which Thorbiorn has said?” asked Jarl Rognvald.

“No, Lord Jarl.”

“And how did you propose to divide the booty?”

“We had each ship as full as she could load—and I would have left them so. It was fairer to Thorbiorn than to me, seeing that he had first chance at the plundering in two of our richest on-falls.”

Jarl Rognvald nodded.

“This is a very simple case,” he announced. “My ruling is this: Swain has a right to a share of the plunder in proportion to the number of men and ships he put into the expedition. Three-fifths and the half of a fifth should be his. The rest should be Thorbiorn’s, and if Thorbiorn believes that the booty was not divided in this proportion amongst the five ships, then, he has a right to ask that all the plunder be carried here and distributed under my supervision.”

Thorbiorn glowered at Jarl Rognvald.

“I have suffered enough already at your hands,” he snarled. “Why should I invite more loss?”

“I am your lord, Thorbiorn,” replied the Jarl sternly. “It is not fitting that you should address me in that fashion.”

“And it is not fitting that I should be made a mock before all your people, and my services put aside,” returned Thorbiorn.

Several of his men shouted assent to this, rattling their weapons on their shields, and Erik and others of Swain’s men answered them. And at this still others joined their voices in the uproar, including men who were friends to both chiefs, but had not participated in the expedition. Jarl Harald stepped to the dais, and raised his arm for silence.

“It is disrespectful for any to challenge the justice of Jarl Rognvald’s decision,” he said no less sternly than the older Jarl had spoken. “Justice was asked for, and justice was given. It was because I foresaw that men would not be satisfied with any justice in this case that I withdrew from it, but that does not relieve me from the obligation of upholding Jarl Rognvald’s authority. He who submits his case to the Jarl, must abide by what the Jarl decides. I am sorry for Thorbiorn, but he has lost.”

“Fairly lost, Lord Jarl,” cried a man from the body of the hall.

“I did not recognize your voice,” replied Jarl Harald, “but——”

“My name is Thorarinn Killinef,” answered the man, “and I spoke to say that Jarl Rognvald is a fair Jarl and dealt justly both by Thorbiorn and by Swain in this case.”

Thorbiorn glared at the man who had pushed his way to the front of the room, and a tenant of Thorbiorn’s, one Thorkell who was in Orphir on business with his wife’s relatives, shouted—

“Yes, yes, you are one to curry favor with the Jarl and Swain, Thorarinn, and much good may it do you!”

Thorkell clapped his hand to his sword as he spoke, and Thorarinn did the same, half-expecting an attack; but at a sign from Jarl Rognvald his house-carls came between the two.

“Let us make an end to talking,” said the older Jarl wearily. “This case is judged—unless Swain has aught to say. He has said little so far.”

“He whose cause is just does not require argument,” answered Swain. “I have nothing more to say.”

Thorbiorn’s face turned purple with rage, and he drew his sword partway from its sheath, pushing it back again as Jarl Rognvald’s house-carls started toward him.

“Justice!” he cried. “Here is no justice! But I might have expected it. All men say that both you Jarls fear Swain, for the one he showed how to conquer the islands and the other he fetched in as a boy to keep check upon the first. I am through with you.”

Jarl Rognvald stood up, and the anger on his face was terrible to see.

“Take him, house-carls—” he started to say, but Jarl Harald caught his arm.

“No, no, Rognvald,” cried the younger Jarl. “The man is beside himself. He will yet be sorry for it. Let him go.”

Jarl Rognvald drew a deep breath.

“Very well,” he said finally. “Let it be so, since you ask it, Harald. But no other man—no, not even Swain—has ever so flouted me, and lived. Beware lest you rouse my wrath again, Thorbiorn Klerk. The next time I shall not be merciful.”

Thorbiorn’s acknowledgment of the Jarl’s grace was a scowl of hatred, and he shouldered his way from the hall at the head of his followers.

 

III

IT WAS well toward evening when Thorbiorn left the skalli, and Jarl Rognvald invited Swain and others of the chiefs to remain and drink ale with him and Jarl Harald. There was much interest in the deeds Swain had performed upon his last expedition, and he described them at some length, always scrupulous to give Thorbiorn a full measure of credit for what he had done. Jarl Harald spoke of this as the serving-men were lighting the candles with the deepening of the twilight.

“It is plainly to be seen that you have no feeling against Thorbiorn Klerk,” he remarked sadly, “and I marvel at the bitterness which he displayed against you.”

“He is not the first man to set too much store by himself,” replied Swain, “yet I should be dishonest did I deny him the merit of being a skilful warrior and always forward in the weapon showing.”

“We must make shift to compose the difference between you two,” said Jarl Harald. “It is not chiefs like you, grown men, seasoned in war, who set the islands by the ears with their disputes.”

“My hand is Thorbiorn’s whenever he expresses himself satisfied with the treatment I gave him and with Jarl Rognvald’s justice,” answered Swain.

“How say you, Rognvald?” asked Jarl Harald. “Will you forgive Thorbiorn his rash speech?”

Jarl Rognvald was in all things kind of heart and disposed to forgiveness, so easygoing, in fact, that many men accused him of making it a vice.

“Thorbiorn Klerk is a good fellow, if hot-headed,” he said now. “Let him unsay what he must know was false, and I——”

There was a great commotion outside the skalli, with shouting of men’s voices, the shrill screams of women and a clatter of weapons, Jarl Rognvald leaped up and buckled his sword about him.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” he commented.

Jarl Harald and Swain and the others followed his example as the uproar outdoors became louder and louder.

“The village is crowded with viking-farers and island folk here for the market,” said Jarl Harald. “There must be some brawl toward. Swain, you will have to punish your men if they have broken loose.”

But at this Erik Bitling ran in the skalli door.

“Haste, Lord Jarls!” he shouted. “Thorkell, Thorbiorn Klerk’s man, set upon Thorarinn in the village street, and Thorarinn slew him, and is fled to the church with Thorbiorn and all the Caithness men at his heels.”

“Humph,” said Swain, “this becomes more serious.”

“It becomes a case where my justice will strike all who oppose it,” gloomed Jarl Rognvald. “After me, those who love me.”

The crowd yielded to him when he reached a knot of men packed against the massive doors of the church, which one of their number was battering with an ax.

“Make way, there,” bade Rognvald again as these men showed a disposition not to budge.

And he heaved them right and left.

“So!” he exclaimed, his beard a-bristle with anger. “You would stand before your Jarl! House-carls, chop me off the arm of the fellow that lingers in my path.”

They scattered at that, and bared the back of Thorbiorn Klerk, who pecked away at the church door with his ax, entirely heedless of whatever went on below him.

“It seems that you not only have no respect for me, but none for Holy Church as well, Thorbiorn,” said Jarl Rognvald.

Thorbiorn turned reluctantly, holding his ax as if to parry a blow.

“I fear the reproaches of my followers,” he answered. “What will they say of me if I do not punish the man who slew Thorkell?”

“And what will I do to you if you do not presently sing a milder tune?” retorted Jarl Rognvald.

“You have no right to come between me and the man who slew my tenant,” persisted Thorbiorn.

“I have every right,” rejoined the Jarl. “Aye, even the right to slay you for broiling in my presence and upsetting the peace of my stead. What, fellow, are you become greater than we who are your lords?”

He waved forward a brace of house-carls.

“Take him to the fetter room. We will try if a diet of cold water and bread does not tame your spirit, Thorbiorn. You are grown over boastful of yourself.”

But Jarl Harald interceded a second time, as Thorbiorn drew back and raised his ax.

“The offense is a grave one, Rognvald,” said the young Jarl, “yet I beg of you to overlook it. Thorbiorn is a famous warrior, and has always been an honorable man. It would ill become us to stain his honor by making him a prisoner. Let us rather admonish him to mend his behavior and send him home to reflect upon it.”

“Yes, yes,” said Swain. “I would not have you punish Thorbiorn like a hasty youth, Lord Jarl. Moreover, it may be he has some right on his side. You have not yet examined the people concerning what happened.”

“That is true,” admitted Jarl Rognvald. “How was it, Thorbiorn? Did Thorarinn set upon Thorkell?”

“Why, they had words together,” began Thorbiorn uncertainly. “I saw the people rushing together in the street, and then——”

“No, no,” spoke up several men in the crowd about the church steps. “Thorkell reproached Thorarinn as they came forth of the skalli, and finally struck him in the face.”

Others likewise bore witness to this, and the stern look returned to Jarl Rognvald’s face.

“What have you to say, Thorbiorn?” he asked.

“Only this,” replied the Caithness man boldly: “Here you and yours are my masters, but the hour will come when I shall have my vengeance. I am none to accept a slight, and there was a slight laid upon me when Thorkell, who spoke in my favor, was slain by Thorarinn for that very reason.”

“Here is a matter for Thorarinn to testify to,” advised Swain. “Let him be brought from the church.”

Jarl Rognvald agreed with this, and required Thorbiorn to stand down from the church door. Then Thorarinn was haled forth. He came willingly as soon as he was told that the Jarl desired him and that Thorbiorn was constrained not to harm him.

“It is in my mind that this was a shabby deed you performed in our midst, Thorarinn,” said Jarl Rognvald. “A man slain under such circumstances as Thorkell may cause a feud the consequences of which no man can foresee.”

“I shall never question that, Lord Jarl,” replied Thorarinn. “But I had no choice. First, Thorkell reviled me for speaking up as I did in saying that you had judged fairly between Thorbiorn and Swain. And not content with that, when I upheld myself and you, he struck me in the face before the boendr.”

Again men shouted affirmation of the testimony.

“Are you certain that Thorkell first spoke to you after you left the skalli?” pressed the Jarl.

“May Christ desert me if it be otherwise.”

Jarl Rognvald leveled an accusing forearm at Thorbiorn.

“You have heard,” he snapped. “What do you say?”

Thorbiorn shrugged his shoulders.

“Naught, for that it would do me little good to say anything. This case is of a kind with that you decided within doors. The men I charge are your men, and you will decide for them.”

What Jarl Rognvald would have said to this no man knows, for Jarl Harald took the words from his mouth.

“Get you gone, Thorbiorn,” he ordered hurriedly. “I think some troll has muddled your wits. Man, you yourself are the worst enemy you ever had. Go quickly, I say, or you will wear out my patience also.”

“Yes, yes,” echoed Jarl Rognvald then. “Go, before my temper stiffens, Thorbiorn. You are a troublemaker we can spare. Do you bide upon your property in Caithness until you hear from me that you may venture afield. And walk warily, or I will outlaw you and all who consort with you.”

Thorbiorn glared at the circle of men who surrounded him and the man whose sanctuary he would have violated. His own followers discreetly had disappeared.

“Wo the day ever I had friendship for Swain Olaf’s son,” he cried. “Little has it brought me save humiliation and disgrace. And I call all to witness that I charge him here with the trouble that has befallen me.”

“Not so,” denied Jarl Rognvald. “You yourself, as Jarl Harald has just told you, are your worst enemy. Swain speaks kindly of you in all things, but in justice to his men, he must have insisted upon a fair share of the spoils of your expedition, even though he was disposed to yield to you on his own account.”

Thorbiorn tossed his ax over his shoulder.

“There is at least this truth in what you say, Lord Jarl,” he answered. “Without your backing, Swain could do me little harm. I shall not forget that when the right time comes.”

And he strode fearlessly through their ranks and made his way down to where his longships lay off the strand.

“We must not be too severe with Thorbiorn,” said Jarl Harald. “He has been twice wrong, and that irks the pride of a strong man.”

“It is no matter whether we are severe or not,” rejoined Swain. “I suspect this is the beginning of a coil the Norns will spin for many a day.”

“That is well spoken,” endorsed Erik Bitling. “For the ice-berg did not know when the water made it.”

Jarl Rognvald tugged at his beard.

“God willing, we have acted for the best,” he said. “Thorarinn, I have no fault to find with what you have done, but I expect that you will be careful in future to give no fresh offense to Thorbiorn or his people.”

Thorarinn promised that he would obey the Jarl’s command, and as Thorbiorn shoved off his keels for Caithness on that tide, men soon dismissed the quarrel from their minds. It was a good Summer, with a rich harvest in view.

 

IV

SWAIN sailed the next day for his estates on Gairsey, which is off the mouth of the Aurrida Firth on the north coast of Hrossey, and busied himself there in checking over the accounts of his steward and overseeing the preparations for the harvest. He also divided up bis booty amongst the followers who had accompanied him on his cruise, paid manbote to the families of those who had been slain and shedded over his ships.

In some years it was his custom to go Autumn viking after the harvest had been reaped, but he had gained so much plunder on the cruise with Thorbiorn that he decided to bide at home and administer his property and oversee the education of his sons, Olaf and Andreas. Wife he had none, for she who had borne his children was locked fast in a nunnery where she might not plague him with her vanity and false heart.

He dwelt thus quietly upon Gairsey until the Summer was all but passed, when on a certain afternoon a messenger, named Asolf, came to him from Jarl Rognvald.

“Here is foul news, Swain,” he called as he entered the yard.

“What mischief has been done?” answered Swain.

“Thorbiorn Klerk has slain Thorarinn Killinef, who killed Thorbiorn’s man, Thorkell, in the brawling at Orphir the day you returned from your last cruise,” replied Asolf.

“This is a bad business,” he added. “I can see that we shall have more trouble from my dispute with Thorbiorn—unless, that is, Thorarinn gave Thorbiorn sufficient excuse for the slaying.”

“You say rightly that it is a bad business, Swain,” agreed Asolf. “And as for excuse, there was none. Thorarinn was cut down as he drank in Gudrun Karl’s daughter’s inn, without a chance to draw a weapon.”

“In Jarl Rognvald’s own village!” he said. “The Jarl can never tolerate such an insult.”

“He can not,” answered Asolf. “More especially, seeing that Thorbiorn came secretly in the night with no less than thirty men, and after slaying Thorarinn burnt his house and drove out his family.”

“Where was the Jarl?”

“He was visiting Bishop William, but he is now returned to Orphir with Jarl Harald, and they take ship tomorrow for Caithness to bring punishment to Thorbiorn. The Lord Jarl summons you by me to accompany him, but he would not have you burden any of your people with service. His own house-carls will be sufficient.”

“I will go gladly,” replied Swain. “Erik, do you don your mail, for I would have you with me. We shall have a deal of weapon play before Thorbiorn is punished; he is a mighty warrior.”

“He is so,” assented Erik. “It is in my mind that Jarl Rognvald esteems him too lightly, for Thorbiorn is crafty as well as strong.”

“Be that as it may, little man,” said Swain, “it is not for us to instruct the Lord Jarl in how he takes his vengeance. Let us first see how the gods dispose the hearts of all concerned. And remember that Thorbiorn is my sister’s husband. If it is not too late for him to repent the course he has taken we may compose the matter without more slaying.”

“It is not like you to talk so, Swain,” commented Erik. “You are all for blows first, and reason afterward.”

“Ah,” said Swain, “but as I grow older I learn. Also, I would not have this quarrel widen, for it began with me. I know well how dear is Thorbiorn to Jarl Harald, and not for all my lands would I see a breach formed between Jarl Harald and Jarl Rognvald.”

The three crossed the Aurrida Firth in Asolf’s boat to Rennadale, and so fared over the island paths on Hrossey to Orphir on the shores of Medallands Hofn. They entered the skalli of Jarl Rognvald an hour past candle-lighting, when the benches were crammed with chiefs and house-carls. Asolf led them straight to the high table, where the two Jarls sat with Jomar, Asgrim’s son, Magnus Gunni’s son and others of their kin.

Jarl Rognvald welcomed Swain cheerily, but Jarl Harald’s dark face was mantled with sorrow. His meat lay untouched on the trencher in front of him and the foam was high upon his ale-cup.

“Well I knew that I would not call for you in vain, Swain,” cried Jarl Rognvald. “I had thought to bid you presently to accompany us when we went to hunt the reindeer in Caithness, but now it seems that we shall hunt nobler prey.”

Jarl Harald flushed.

“This prey is cousin to me, Rognvald,” he exclaimed. “Do you consider that in speaking as you do you add to my happiness?”

Jarl Rognvald dropped a kindly hand upon the younger Jarl’s shoulder.

“I am at fault, Harald,” he apologized. “But let me ask you this: If Thorbiorn is your cousin and has your sympathy, what of me, who am also cousin to you, who protected you in your childhood and who have dealt always kindly by you, and who have been wronged without just cause, as all men agree, by the man with whom you sympathize?”

Jarl Harald hid his face in his hands.

“It is too much for me,” he cried. “On the one hand is Thorbiorn, who shared with Swain the fostering of me. On the other are you, Rognvald. Whatever happens I must suffer.”

Swain took the seat between the two Jarls which Jarl Rognvald thrust out for him.

“Yes, Jarl Harald, all that you say is true,” he said. “But do not forget that you are a Jarl, and from a Jarl more is expected than from a common man.”

“A Jarl is no more than a man, Swain,” protested Jarl Harald. “You, yourself, have often said it.”

“That have I,” admitted Swain. “And it has been the fault of Jarls that I have said it. But none the less is it true that a Jarl should be more than a common man, and the great Jarls are those of whom it can be said that they remember oftenest that to them the folk look for justice. I have known you, Lord Jarl, since you were shorter than my sword, and on the whole I have been proud that I had a share in bringing you into the Islands. It is my hope that you will not act so that I shall be shamed in my connection with you.”

Jarl Harald flushed anew as the words sank into his brain, but when Swain concluded he squared his jaw and offered his hand.

“Honest speech is best,” he said. “It requires you to solve the difficulties I find myself in, Swain. And I will be guided by what you say. For surely what a Jarl should be known for first of all is justice. Justice I will strive for in this matter.”

“In that event your reputation will not suffer,” answered Swain. “My own hope is that Thorbiorn will be brought to reason and offer manbote to Thorarinn’s family and due compensation to Jarl Rognvald. I am a rough fellow, myself, and I know how easily a rough fellow can be induced to practise conduct which he may later have cause to regret.”

The chiefs all said that this was a very handsome way of looking at the trouble, and it was suggested that Swain might be appointed an emissary to argue Thorbiorn into readiness to accept adequate fine and punishment.

“I will do so gladly,” promised Swain, “if Thorbiorn indicates his willingness to receive me. We shall know better what to expect after we have entered Caithness.”

They sat late that night over the ale-drinking, and when they broke up there was a feeling that they might yet avoid coming to blows.

“I am an old man,” said Jarl Rognvald, “and it has been my hope that my people would be satisfied with my rule, for I have striven always to deal honestly by them.”

“It is not in the nature of people to be satisfied with anything,” muttered Erik Bitling to Swain as they left the high table to seek bed room.

“Be still, little man,” rebuked Swain. “The ale is sour on your stomach.”

 

V

THE two Jarls and Swain crossed the Pentland Firth with one hundred men and twenty horses in three boats, and landed at Thorsa. They made inquiry in the vicinity for Thorbiorn, but none of the Caithness folk would say where he was, for Thorbiorn was well-liked and eke feared in those parts. Jarl Rognvald consulted with his followers, and they decided to journey inland to the valley of the Kalfadal^[5], where lay the lands of Thorbiorn and his kin—such as Hosvir, his brother-in-law, and his cousins, Liotulf and Hallvard Dufa’s son.

That night they made camp in the open, and they were all sitting around the fires, discussing the best way to come at Thorbiorn, when one of the guards came to Jarl Rognvald’s side.

“Lord Jarl,” he said, “there is one out in the darkness, crying like a woman, and some of us fear that it is either an evil spirit or Thorbiorn, trying to trick us.”

Jarl Rognvald crossed himself, as did Jarl Harald and several others.

“Now, Christ save us from the Evil One and all black magic,” exclaimed Jarl Rognvald. “Harald, I never heard that Thorbiorn had traffic with the war-locks.”

“Nor did he,” said Jarl Harald.

Swain scrambled to his feet.

“I have withstood the blackest magic that witch Frakork could make,” he said. “It should go hard if I might not resist some spirit howling in the night. Lead the way, fellow, and I will make trial of this crying thing.”

So he went with the man—whose name was Bjarni Aslak’s son, from Westrey—out upon the hillside, and sure enough, there came to their ears a distant sound of wailing, such as is made by a woman in time of grief.

“Humph,” said Swain, “that is a human voice or I am as great a fool as you, Bjarni. Also, I could swear I have heard it before.”

And he strode forward to the hilltop, placed his cupped hands to his mouth and sent a hail booming across the rugged dales.

“Ho, you who cry in the night! What sorrow nags you? Here are a warm fire and food for the taking.”

An instant of silence, and then the woman sobbed again.

“I am alone and frightened,” she wailed.

Swain threw down his shield, and ran down the far side of the hill toward the voice.

“I am Swain Olaf’s son,” he called. “I will not harm you.”

“Swain!” sobbed the voice. “Swain! Is it soothly you? I am Ingrid, your sister.”

Swain stopped dead, and peered warily around him.

“Ho-ho,” he said to himself. “I had best walk slowly. A sister is a sister, but a wife is a wife.”

And to Ingrid he called:

“Where is Thorbiorn? How come you here, woman?”

“He cast me out,” she sobbed. “He has put me from him.”

Swain growled deep in his throat.

“Have you harmed him, sister? Have you done wrong?”

“No, no. He said that I reminded him of you, whom he hated and who had humiliated him.”

“We shall see about that,” answered Swain. “Heretofore I have endeavored to believe the best of Thorbiorn, but from this moment he is become my enemy. Step out, sister, and I will lead you to Jarl Rognvald, who will send you to shelter and women’s care.”

She stumbled from behind a clump of bushes and sank into his arms.

“Has Thorbiorn beaten you?” he asked quickly, the blood hammering at his temples.

“No, but I have wandered the day long without food, for his servants and tenants feared to help me.”

“And where is he?”

She began to speak, then choked back her words.

“No, Swain, I may not say.”

“‘May not say!’ Girl, he cannot harm you now.”

“Ah, but I have shared his bed these many years. Shall I betray him to his death—for any cause?”

Swain was silent until they had reached the edge of the circle of fire-light within the camp.

“I know naught of women’s honor,” he said gruffly, then, “Were you other than my sister I would torture you to wring from you what I sought, but since you are my sister I am helpless. What the Jarl will say is another matter.”

But Jarl Rognvald showed greater readiness than Swain to respect her loyalty to the husband who had cast her off.

“It is so I would wish my daughter to feel,” he said. “My men will build you a bower here by the fireside, and in the morning we will send you to Thorsa, where you can take ship for Gairsey and forget the sorrow which has come upon you.”

She thanked him brokenly, and so Ingrid, Olaf’s daughter, passes from this story. Her lot was a sorry one, and the Orkney folk mourned for her; but in the heavier misfortune which was to fall upon the Islands there was little time to lament one woman’s shattered happiness.

When she had been attended to, Swain turned upon Jarl Harald, who had sat silent since she was brought to the fireside.

“What say you now of Thorbiorn’s guilt?” he demanded.

“He has done wrong,” answered Jarl Harald, “but I am sure he will repent. Wait until I have had speech with him, Swain.”

“I will wait for nothing,” retorted Swain fiercely. “No man ever put such a slight upon me and lived. He shall pay me for it to the bitter end. Ha, he was not satisfied with Jarl Rognvald’s justice! Well, now he shall taste of Swain’s justice.”

“Hard words make for needless deaths,” pleaded Jarl Harald.

“Of that there is no question,” spoke up Jarl Rognvald. “And Thorbiorn’s conduct proves the truth of the saw. It will be strange if we carry through his punishment without slaying him.”

“St. Magnus send his death be not the presage of others,” said Jarl Harald.

“I will be his death,” answered Swain impatiently. “Of that you may be sure.”

 

VI

IN THE morning the two Jarls and their people rode along the valley of the Kalfadal and the neighboring hillsides, asking of the folk they met where Thorbiorn was hidden, and again they received only noncommittal answers and sullen looks. When they had passed the morning thus Swain suggested that they spread out into a screen, so that they might cover a wider stretch of country and make their search more thorough. Jarl Rognvald accepted the plan, but Jarl Harald said nothing, and the end of it was that Jarl Rognvald went ahead upon one side of the valley and Swain upon the other, but Jarl Harald lagged behind and out of hearing. Men who knew the young Jarl well said that they had never seen him so distraught as that day by Kalfadal.

Because of the searching and of Jarl Harald’s reluctance to take part in it their company was much separated. Ahead of all rode Jarl Rognvald, accompanied by two other mounted men—that Asolf who had summoned Swain from Gairsey, and Jomar, the kinsman of the Jarl. A considerable distance behind came a score or two of men on foot, who examined the fields, thickets and buildings in their path. After them, in turn, came Jarl Harald, as has been said, with perhaps as many more men who were his personal following. And off three or four bow-shots on the right Swain conducted a party who searched in that quarter.

So it chanced that Jarl Rognvald, attended but by Asolf and Jomar, rode into the yard of a stead belonging to a farmer named Hoskuld, who was a tenant of Thorbiorn’s and with whom Thorbiorn was concealed. This stead was built upon the summit of a small hillock, and the entrance to the skalli was through an unroofed stone passage, wide enough for only one man to pass through it at a time, which wound around the slopes of the hillock. Hoskuld was standing upon a corn-stack, piling the corn which his servants fetched in from the fields, as the Jarl rode up, and he greeted the Jarl at once in a very loud voice.

“Ho, Jarl Rognvald,” he shouted. “How comes it that you visit me without warning, and a tail of men behind you stretching across the hills?”

As Hoskuld intended, this speech reached the ears of Thorbiorn, who was sitting in the skalli with eight of his followers, fully armed, and gave him warning of his danger. But of this, of course, Jarl Rognvald was ignorant.

“You need not shout at me, farmer,” the Jarl answered. “My hearing is good. I am seeking——”

But he said no more, for Thorbiorn and the eight others had ran out of a concealed door in the skalli wall, circled the gable end of the building and then traversed the flat top of the outer wall of the passage through which the skalli was reached. On top of this wall they were a little above the Jarl and his men on horseback, and Thorbiorn struck down at Jarl Rognvald almost before the Jarl realized that he was being attacked.

In fact, so dazed was the Jarl that he made no effort to protect himself, but the youth Asolf interposed his naked arm between Thorbiorn’s sword and the Jarl’s head. The blade bit through flesh and bone and sheared off the boy’s whole forearm and hand, and withal, sliced away the whole front of the Jarl’s chin, making a terrible wound.

Neither the Jarl nor Asolf was dismayed, however. The Jarl made an effort to dismount from his horse, which was restive, and at the same time reached for his sword; but the blood from his wound confused him and his foot caught in his stirrup, and as he was half in, half out, of his saddle, Thorbiorn struck him again and Stefan Radgiafi—The Counselor—stabbed him with a spear.

Asolf staggered forward in an attempt to intervene once more, but his strength was failing him, and he cried out:

“Let those serve the Jarl now who have to thank him for greater gifts than I! I have done all I may.”

Thorbiorn would have smote Jarl Rognvald a third time, but Jomar, the Jarl’s kinsman, whose horse had taken fright and backed away, contrived to thrust himself before the two wounded men, and with a hunting-spear he wounded Stefan Radgiafi and also pierced Thorbiorn’s thigh.

Asolf’s shout had called the attention of others of Jarl Rognvald’s folk, and as they commenced to stream forward Thorbiorn took fright, leaped from the passage wall and with his men behind him ran speedily out of the stead yard and across a stretch of bog. They did not tarry until they had crossed the moss-hag which ran through the bog, on the farther bank of which they were joined by Hoskuld, the farmer, and his sons and servants and other folk of the vicinity, who rallied to Thorbiorn’s support to the number of fifty.

In the meantime, Jomar had lifted Jarl Rognvald from his horse and done what he could for him, but all efforts were fruitless. The Jarl died on the bed of corn-stalks they made for him, and Jomar dispatched messengers to summon Jarl Harald and Swain.

Swain was farthest away, and there was delay in finding him, but the messenger who sought Jarl Harald came upon him on a slight eminence when he was watching Thorbiorn and the party of Kalfadal folk mustering their strength on the opposite side of the moss-hag. Some of Jarl Harald’s men had noted Thorbiorn’s flight, for he had passed across their line of march, and they were arguing that the young Jarl should lead them to attack him.

“I do not see that that is necessary,” replied Jarl Harald stubbornly. “Let us rather study what Thorbiorn does, and bide until Jarl Rognvald joins us. Then, perhaps, we——”

It was at this point that Jomar’s messenger pushed his way through the ranks of Jarl Harald’s attendants.

“Jarl Rognvald will never join you, Lord Jarl,” he panted. “Thorbiorn has slain him.”

Jarl Harald clutched his spear very tight.

“Are you sure of this?” he asked.

“I saw the Jarl dead,” affirmed the messenger.

“Alas, this is what I foresaw,” cried Jarl Harald. “Well I knew, naught but trouble would issue from this expedition.”

Then he asked the messenger if there was anything possible to be done in Jarl Rognvald’s behalf, and the messenger answered—

“Only a fitting vengeance.”

At this Jarl Harald blinked his eyes.

“Vengeance is a word I have never liked,” he said. “Let us endeavor instead to see that no more men’s lives are sacrificed in this vain quarrel.”

He marshaled his men to the edge of the bog, where Jarl Rognvald’s folk, leaderless and blind in their rage, were casting spears at Thorbiorn’s men. Thorbiorn, very craftily, instructed his men not to cast back the spears that were hurled at them, and so by the time Jarl Harald had arrived practically all the spears of his assailants were in his hands. Jarl Rognvald’s followers were not numerous enough to force their way across the bog and the moss-hag in face of the men at Thorbiorn’s back, and they were equally at a loss for lack of a leader who was skilled in war.

Jomar and others ran to Jarl Harald’s side as he rode amongst them.

“See, Lord Jarl,” they called. “There are the murderers of our lord. Do you lead your men and us, and we will soon get across and be the means of his death.”

“And if I do so many of you will die,” answered Jarl Harald. “Let us see if we can not arrange matters otherwise.”

There were loud protests at this from the ranks of Jarl Rognvald’s men, and Thorbiorn, noting the apparent dissensions amongst his adversaries, went to the edge of the moss-hag and called across to Jarl Harald.

“Do not let these men take away my life, kinsman,” he said. “What I have done weighs heavy upon me, but I had no choice save to do it, for if I had not slain Jarl Rognvald he would have been my death.”

“It was an evil deed, Thorbiorn,” replied Jarl Harald sorrowfully. “I know not what I can do.”

“No, then, kinsman,” Thorbiorn said again, “if it was an evil deed, as you say, why will it be less evil for you and I, between us, to be the deaths of a score or two more? Here are your folk and mine, each of us well armed and determined, and if we come to weapon-clashing there will be such a man-scathe as will be mourned for many years.”

“I know that to be so, Thorbiorn,” said Jarl Harald, “but Jarl Rognvald’s men are very bitter against you, and they say——”

“Let them say what they please,” urged Thorbiorn boldly, for he saw now that Jarl Harald was indeed loath to move against him. “If I have slain Jarl Rognvald, who will profit from it, unless it be you?”

“No, no,” cried Jarl Harald.

“But I say it must be you,” insisted Thorbiorn. “For he had you under his thumb and left you no more power than if you had been a page, so that you were Jarl only in name. It is a crime to be the death of a man, I know, but great good may flow from any deed, and surely you would be the last to say that I have harmed you by what I have done, seeing that to you will revert all Jarl Rognvald’s dominions, he having left no son.”

“He was my good friend,” answered Jarl Harald, “and I had all the power I required under him. You do ill to try to poison me against his memory. He was a good lord, as all men say.”

“That was he,” Thorbiorn agreed readily. “And like all good lords and strong warriors he seized all the power he could. So, likewise, will you, now that you are Jarl alone. And why would it be wicked for you to deal gently with me, who have never harmed you? If you do otherwise many of us must die, and men and women will call down curses upon your name.”

“What I can do in this matter I am not sure,” replied Jarl Harald, “but I could never let you go unpunished. It is a dreadful thing to slay a Jarl, Thorbiorn.”

“That may be so,” admitted Thorbiorn. “After all, I ask no more than that you as sure me quarter, kinsman. I will leave the decision in this case entirely to you. Is not that fair to all concerned? It means that instead of a raven’s feast here on Kalfadal men may return to their wives and children, and you can judge me at leisure.”

Jarl Rognvald’s men cried out against this suggestion, but Jarl Harald was impressed by the apparent fairness of what Thorbiorn offered.

“He will surrender without more bloodletting,” he argued with those who opposed Thorbiorn’s terms. “What more could you wish? Because the Jarl has died is no reason why a score of you should follow him.”

“Your words are as senseless as those of a child in fear, Lord Jarl,” interposed a new voice, and those surrounding Jarl Harald turned to meet Swain. “The punishment for Thorbiorn’s offense is death, and if you offer him anything less you betray Jarl Rognvald and his trust in you.”

Jarl Harald colored deeply. He was a very swart man, and when his feelings were hurt his face turned darker yet.

“I can see that you are set upon making trouble, Swain,” he said coldly. “It is the conduct you are best at.”

“I do not call it trouble,” answered Swain. “I am after justice, and if you as Jarl will not secure justice for Jarl Rognvald and those of us who loved him, why, I am prepared to exact Swain’s justice.”

“You hate Thorbiorn because he has quarreled with you and put away your sister,” charged Jarl Harald.

“That is partly true,” said Swain. “It would be reason enough by itself, but if that were all I had against Thorbiorn I would go after him with my own men and ask assistance from nobody else. As it happens, he deserves to be punished first of all for his misdeed in slaying Jarl Rognvald as foully as he did Thorarinn. The one, who was a common man, he slew from behind in an inn; the other, who was a Jarl, he slew without warning, as a fugitive from the Jarl’s justice. Such a man is unsafe to leave at large in these lands, and there will be many who agree with me.”

Now, Jarl Harald was deeply troubled, for in his heart he knew that Swain was right, yet every time he looked across the bog and the moss-hag at the stalwart figure of Thorbiorn, whom he had loved since childhood, a qualm rocked his determination and his thoughts went back to the many kindnesses the outlaw had shown to him and the years of love that had linked them together.

“I have no desire to quarrel with you at such a time, Swain,” he said. “But I ask you to remember that Jarl Rognvald’s first thought was always for the safety of the Orkney folk. Would he ask us to be the means of the deaths of a score or two of men for the purpose of slaying Thorbiorn out of hand—when Thorbiorn, himself, has offered to surrender and submit his case to me for trial?”

Swain smiled mockingly.

“Ah, yes, Lord Jarl, Thorbiorn has offered to accept quarter and a ‘fair’ trial from you because well he knows that if he ever had your ear for a day you would never suffer his death. Exile you might give him, but no worse. And well do we know it, too—nor will we tolerate it.”

Jarl Harald’s hand flew to his sword.

“I have accepted plain speech from you, Swain, but I am at the end of my patience,” he warned.

“So am I,” roared Swain. “Jarl you may be, but I have known you since you were breached. What? Do you think I will tolerate such injustice from one I did more to make than Thorbiorn? By the Old Gods, I say no!”

Some of Jarl Harald’s followers would have come at Swain for this, but he waved them aside with his bare hand, and went on, his icy-cold, blue eyes boring into the Jarl’s dark face.

“Lord Jarl,” he said more gently, “your wits have been benumbed by your affection for one who has ceased to merit it. Consider this case fairly. If you give quarter to Thorbiorn after such a crime as he has committed, people will say that he committed it in your interest.”

“They will lie,” interrupted Jarl Harald.

“Thorbiorn already has told you before us all that what he did was in your interest,” exclaimed Jomar.

“It is not true,” insisted the Jarl.

“So you say,” said Swain, “yet, as I have told you, the people will soon be saying openly that you had plotted Jarl Rognvald’s death with Thorbiorn, and arranged it under cover a long time since. They will even say that Thorbiorn quarreled with me and slew Thorarinn to make pretexts for his falling out with Jarl Rognvald.”

Jarl Harald groaned.

“But I would as soon order the death of you, Swain, who, as you have justly said, were the making of me.”

“That is so, no doubt, Lord Jarl,” pressed Swain, “but you have here the choice between what is right and proper and what will bring down upon you everlasting disgrace and dishonor.”

“Will you not at least give Thorbiorn the chance of a fair trial?” asked Jarl Harald. “There may be circumstances——”

“Lord Jarl, if Thorbiorn had a fair trial he would say before your face that he slew Jarl Rognvald by arrangement with you—and how could you deny him, so that people would believe you, after permitting him to escape from this plight that he is in?”

Jarl Harald threw up his hands.

“On your head be it, then, Swain. I will not seek to stop you. Yet I say to you at the last, as I said at the beginning, what useful end will it serve to bring about the slaying of a score or two of men?”

“There will not be anything like so many men slain,” replied Swain. “I am not afraid of Thorbiorn.”

 

VII

THORBIORN, on the far side of the moss-hag, had watched closely Swain’s dispute with Jarl Harald, and when Swain turned on his heel and left the Jarl the outlaw said to his friends who were grouped around him;

“Sorry was the day I ever quarreled with Swain! He has prevailed upon the Jarl to permit him to attack me.”

“Be of a good heart, Thorbiorn,” replied Stefan Radgiafi. “If we are only half as numerous as Swain’s party none the less we have the moss-hag for defense and most of their spears.”

“We will stand by you, Thorbiorn,” added Hoskuld the farmer. “Let us all perish together rather than yield to them.”

Many others said as much, but certain of the common men in the party shifted their feet and looked uncomfortable. Nor did this escape Thorbiorn’s attention.

“You do not know Swain as well as I do,” he answered. “I do not hide from myself his cleverness and strength simply because he is my enemy. He is no ordinary warrior.”

“Whoever he is, the best thing for us to do is to try to slay him and as many of his people as we can,” asserted Stefan.

But Thorbiorn would not agree to this plan.

“I have no desire to be the cause of the deaths of the Kalfadal folk,” he said. “Also, I have not altogether despaired of prevailing upon Jarl Harald to grant me quarter.”

There was much talk upon this score the while Swain was examining the moss-hag for a place to cross, and the upshot of it was that Hoskuld said that the Kalfadal folk would disperse if Thorbiorn insisted that they should, but he advised the outlaw to flee with them and conceal himself in the woods on the Scots marches. But Thorbiorn refused.

“I have been a chief ever since my youth,” he said. “And I do not wish now to become a fugitive. You others shall each do as seems best to you, but as for myself, I shall attempt to evade Swain and throw myself upon Jarl Harald’s mercy.”

In the meantime Swain had reached a satisfactory place on the bank of the moss-hag some distance from the position held by Thorbiorn and his people, and the Orkney men began to scramble across. Jarl Harald and a few who had remained with him witnessed this advance for several moments in silence, but as the Jarl perceived the ease with which Swain’s party won to the far side and the disintegration of the group of Kalfadal folk around Thorbiorn he exclaimed:

“Niddering am I if I do not advance! It will be said that I feared the combat.”

And he ran down to the nearest point on the bank of the moss-hag and leaped it in a stride, with his armor clashing on his back. The gap was here nine ells broad,^[6]. and of those who followed the Jarl not one cleared the whole distance.

Thorbiorn observed Jarl Harald’s leap and he promptly sped over the bog, with his eight housecarls behind him, and cast himself upon his knees at the Jarl’s feet.

“See, Lord Jarl,” he cried. “I might have made a stout fight against Swain, for the folk with me did not fear the weapon shock, but instead I choose to throw myself upon your mercy.”

Harald looked uneasily from the Kalfadal folk streaming away over the moor to Swain and the rest of the Orkney men running toward them along the bank of the moss-hag.

“I see not what I can do for you, Thorbiorn,” he replied. “My people are very wroth with you for what you have done.”

“But kinsman, I lay my head on your knees,” pleaded Thorbiorn. “You will not permit Swain to take it from you!”

Certain of Jarl Harald’s friends spoke up in Thorbiorn’s favor and begged the Jarl to cast his cloak over the outlaw; but the Jarl shook his head.

“Well I know Swain,” he said, “and when his mind is set upon a course he can not be diverted from it. If I strove to guard Thorbiorn now Swain would turn his sword against me, and the outcome of that I should not care to estimate.”

“Then do you yourself slay me,” said Thorbiorn, “for I would rather my punishment came at your hands than from Swain, who is my enemy.”

“I can not, Thorbiorn,” denied Jarl Harald. “I have not the heart to kill you or to order your death. Flee, and you may get off safe.”

Thorbiorn rose slowly to his feet.

“You have as good as ordered my doom, kinsman,” he said, “for the spear thrust that Jomar gave me found its way to my entrails and I can not run far.”

All Jarl Harald could say to this was:

“Save yourself if you can. My hands are bound.”

By now Swain was near enough for the shouts of his people to be heard, so Thorbiorn and the eight men with him made off as best they could. Presently they came to a deserted shieling on the hillside, and here Thorbiorn stopped.

“I can run no farther,” he said, “and this is as good a place to die as any other. I absolve all of you from your duty to me, and shall not hold it against any man who attempts to escape.”

But none of the eight would leave him, and they all went inside the shieling, which was very flimsy in its construction, and did what little they could to make it defensible.

When Swain came up he strung a circle of men around the building and ordered Erik Bitling to prepare torches. These torches he flung upon the thatch of the shieling, and the whole place was instantly ablaze. Then he drew in his circle closer, with himself, Erik, Jomar and the best-armed warriors opposite the door through which he expected Thorbiorn to escape. But Thorbiorn instead broke down a section of the wall, and attacked the opposite side of the circle where it was weakest, and he and his house-carls slew four men before Swain reached them.

There was such a rush of battle at this moment that five of Thorbiorn’s followers were slain at once, dragging down two more of the Orkney folk with them, and Swain’s people drew back for a moment.

“Will you fight me, man to man, Swain?” called Thorbiorn.

“That will I,” replied Swain, “although your side is plastered with blood, and there is no glory to be found in slaying a wounded man.”

Thorbiorn ran at him without another word, and Swain’s folk, so soon as they had finished the three surviving house-carls who had been with Thorbiorn, made a shield-ring and watched the struggle, marveling at the desperation with which the outlaw warded Swain’s stoutest blows, although his intestines bulged from the spear-hole in the skirt of his mailed shirt.

Seeing how he panted from his efforts and the blood spurted from his wound, Swain asked him if he would rest himself a while, but Thorbiorn only gritted his teeth and answered:

“No! Slay or be slain.”

“That is an excellent spirit, Thorbiorn,” approved Swain. “And what I should have expected from a man of your fame and ability. Do you desire to leave any message for your family?”

“Only that I have no sorrow for aught that I have done,” croaked Thorbiorn, “and I am glad I put away that slut, Ingrid.”

“Humph,” grunted Swain. “In that case, we will make an end.”

He heaved up his sword with an energy that could not be matched, beat down the outlaw’s blade and struck off his head in one quick slash from left to right.

“Take up the head, Erik,” he said, “and carry it to Jarl Harald.”

Erik gripped Thorbiorn’s head by the hair and placed it on a spear.

“What shall I say to the Jarl?” he asked, grinning.

“Tell him that is Swain’s justice.”

But when Jarl Harald saw Erik coming from afar he went swiftly back across the moss-hag, sought his horses and rode at speed to Thorsa, where he took ship for Orphir, saying nothing on the way. Swain and the rest of the company followed his route through Caithness, bearing Thorbiorn’s head with them. And at every stead, borg and village Swain exhibited his horrid trophy saying:

“This is the head of Thorbiorn Klerk, who was kinsman to Jarl Harald and as great a man in the Orkneyar as any who held no title. He resisted Jarl Rognvald’s justice, and foully slew the Jarl without warning. Now I have executed justice upon him.”

And the Caithness folk, who knew how Jarl Harald had felt in this matter—for gossip traveled fast across the countryside—grinned as they heard, saying one to another—

“It is Swain’s justice to hew off a man’s head.”

The saying became common in that country, and any man who had lost his head was remarked to have suffered “Swain’s Justice.”

But Jarl Harald said no word, direct or indirect, of praise or blame for what Swain had done. He did not even send for Swain when he summoned the chiefs and boendr of the Islands to notify them that he had succeeded to Jarl’s Rognvald’s share of the Jarldom. Some of Swain’s friends held that this was ominous, and advised him to beware lest Jarl Harald plotted his ruin; but Swain only laughed.

“I shall never suffer by what any Jarl does,” he said. “They know me too well.”

He bided at home in Gairsey and attended to his own affairs, seldom going abroad and advising all who came to him with news or complaints of what Jarl Harald did that they should go slowly and remember that any sudden change in rulers created misunderstandings which time would remedy.

“Let the Jarl be,” he would say. “He is a young man, but he means to deal honestly by us. If he makes mistakes, we shall have opportunity to correct them.”

One evening in the Autumn he was sitting alone in his skalli when Erik Bitling came to him.

“A longship is pulling into the cove,” said the little man, with a queer look. “And Jarl Harald is standing in the prow.”

“Tell them in the kitchen that we shall have company, and broach a new barrel of ale,” answered Swain.

“I had better bid the folk seek their arms, too,” suggested Erik.

“Not if you value my friendship,” rejoined Swain.

“The Jarl has never forgiven you for——”

“Peace, Erik. I know Jarl Harald better than you.”

So when Jarl Harald entered the skalli door in the candle-light, with a score of house-carls following him, he found Swain still sitting alone at the high table and the benches empty.

“I have heard that you keep eighty men at your own charges, Swain,” remarked the Jarl after they had exchanged greetings.

“That is true.”

“Where are they?”

“They are all weary from their work at the harvest.”

“And you bide here by night without house-carls to protect you?”

“Protect me against whom, Lord Jarl?”

Jarl Harald was silent so long as he required to empty an ale-cup.

“I can see that the trouble-makers have been unsuccessful,” he said then. “Swain, I have come here to tell you that I have been wrong in holding a grudge against you for Thorbiorn’s death. Not a man has opposed me seriously since I became sole Jarl, and I know now that it is because you shielded me from suspicion of being a party to the slaying of Jarl Rognvald.”

“That is not to be denied,” admitted Swain bluntly.

“I was used to relying upon you and Thorbiorn for advice,” continued the Jarl. “I hope that you will be willing to assist me as formerly. My task is a great one.”

“What I can do for you, Lord Jarl, that will I,” replied Swain; “but I shall always say what I think ”

Jarl Harald smiled for the first time in months.

“You would not be Swain if you did not,” he returned. “What was it Jarl Rognvald was wont to say?. ‘What is a Jarl or a common man to Swain?’”

And it is to be said that from that day forth Jarl Harald leaned always upon Swain’s counsel, and they were friends between whom never came so much as the width of a sword-blade to separate their intercourse.

---

1. Hebrides.
2. Scyllies.
3. Britain.
4. Ulster.
5. Calder Burn.
6. A little more than thirteen feet