CHAPTER XII--THE MAGIC SLEEP

The great mead hall was crowded with Danes, feasting and drinking, and on the high seat sat Hakon the jarl. Merrily did they greet the skald and the maiden, but the seid woman they welcomed with words of respect. Hakon himself came from his high seat, took her by the hand, and led her to the place which had been prepared for her, and asked her to run her eyes over the household and over himself that he might know the fates of them all.

Then did they set before her porridge made with goat's milk, and a dish made of the hearts of all kinds of animals. She had a spoon of brass, and a knife of brass, and whatever she called for the same was brought to her. All feasted. Egwina ate and drank but little for she was afraid. Anxiously she felt of the jewel to see if it were safe, and uneasily did she await coming events.

After the feast Hakon the jarl called for the skalds, and many there were who sang of his deeds and his bounty. When all had sung, the jarl cried:

"Methinks I see a skald maiden who hath not yet sung? Norse doth she look but Saxon is her dress."

"Right art thou, O Hakon," cried Sigurd. "Keen as the eagle's are the eyes of Odin's son that see afar off. The maiden is fair enow for Norse, but is a Saxon. A skald maiden is she, and I misdoubt not knoweth well many songs."

"I would hear thy harp," said the jarl, and Egwina stood forth and sang a quaint little Norse song that her grandsire had taught her.

"Good, good," cried the jarl delighted. "Sweet is thy harp, fair maid, but not so sweet as the voice that accompanies it. Come nearer."

Egwina advanced hesitatingly toward the high seat.

"Wondrously wrought is thy harp. Where would skald maiden get so beautiful a one? It might be gift from royal hand."

"It is the gift of a king," came from the seid woman.

Hakon looked at the maiden.

"It is true, O jarl," she said in answer to the look. "'Tis the custom of the Saxon thus to reward those who make glee for them."

"'Tis custom in all lands," said Hakon with a smile, taking from his neck a chain of gold. "Take this, maiden; as thou playest on the harp of a king, it is fitting that thou shouldst receive royal gifts. 'Tis a chain of gold that hath never known alloy. Behold, from its centre hangs an amulet that ever faithful guards the wishes of the wearer."

"My thanks I give thee, Hakon," murmured the girl as the jarl threw the chain over her shoulders.

"I'd hear thy harp again," said he, "but sing of Saxon and Dane. Canst give us a song of victory of Dane over Saxon?"

Then the heart of the maiden swelled within her as she thought of that dear grandfather who had given his life because he would not so sing, and her soul grew strong and she spake boldly:

"I am a Saxon, Jarl Hakon, and niddering would I be to sing of my country's shame. Willing am I to make glee for thee if aught in my harp or voice doth please thee. Many are the skalds that can sing for thee thy countrymen's victories. Gracious hath been thy gift; gracious thy present to the skald maiden; but take it back and ask not this thing of her."

"Keep thy bauble," and the jarl thrust it back upon her. "Would that our maidens would prove so true to their land. Sing not so, maiden, if thou dost not wish, but something Saxon. One that is true to his own land never bewrays another."

The Danes watched the affair in surprise. Jarl Hakon was an austere man, and never had he been known before to countenance the least crossing of his wishes. Egwina thanked him gratefully, and then, as he desired, swept the strings and sang. She chose the song of The Phoenix, a subject very popular with the Saxon poets; the mystic life, death, and resurrection of the fabled bird.

Her thoughts flew to the little hut in the woods where the king of the Saxons lay concealed. Should he, like the phoenix, rise above the funeral pyre of the dead hopes of his people, and again rule the land as king? A quaver crept into her voice, and then, as she recalled his words, "The earth, when conquered, give us the stars," hope swelled her bosom. No matter the difficulties, the dangers that beset his path, Alfred would reign again. God's chosen king was he, anointed by the holy pope himself. Her voice burst into the triumphant refrain as the assurance came home to her.[1]

"Lo, from the airy web, Blooming and brightsome, Young and exulting, the Phoenix breaks forth.

"Round him the birds troop Singing and hailing; Wings of all glories Engarland the king.

"Hymning and hailing, Through forest and sun-air, Hymning and hailing And speaking him 'king.'

"Hymning and hailing, And filling the sun-air With music and glory And praise of the king."

[1] Bulwer Lytton's versification. By some this poem is placed in the tenth century. Morley puts it in the eighth.

Silence fell upon the retainers as they listened. The seid woman's eyes glittered strangely.

"Well hast thou done, child," and Hakon took from his arm a massive bracelet.

"Thou hast already given me sufficient," said Egwina, modestly refusing the gift.

"Tut! Refuse naught that is offered thee. Not always wilt thou find me so generous. I liked the spirit of thy song."

"'Twas filled with thought of the king," came from the seid woman. "Nourish not a viper, Jarl Hakon. Seek from the maiden the whereabouts of the king whom ye seek. Uncertain is the tenure of the Northman unless the Dragon of Wessex be put down. Ask of the maiden the whereabouts of King Alfred."

The jarl turned to Egwina.

"Is this true that thou dost know where thy king is?"

"Gracious wert thou, O jarl, when thou didst say that I sing not against my country! Gracious be in this also. I could not sing the shame of my country, Hakon; neither can I bewray my king."

Hakon knitted his brows, and became thoughtful.

"Thou needst not to ask aught of the girl," spoke Gyda again. "Hath the seid woman power to tell thee that which thou wishest? Quotha! Let the incantation be prepared."

"It shall be as thou sayest," said the jarl, rousing himself. Then did he order some young men to bring a large flat stone which was placed upon four posts set in the centre of the room before the high seat.

Upon the platform the volva took her place. Women formed a circle round it, and sang the fate song. When these were finished, the seid woman began to mutter and gesticulate violently as the revelations came to her.

"I see thee, Jarl Hakon," she cried.

"On the broad heath thy bow strings twang, While high in air the arrows sang; Thy iron shiner brings to flight The warder of great Odin's shrine, Thou, the long haired son of Odin's line, Raises the voice which gives the cheer, First in the track of wolf or bear."

She writhed upon the stone ghastly pale, and burst forth again.

"In battle storm ye seek no lee, With skulking head and bending knee, Behind the hollow shield. With eye and hand ye fend the head, Courage and skill stand in the stead Of panzer, helm and shield In Hild's bloody field."

"Tell me, Gyda, that of which ye spake," said the jarl. "Tell me of the Saxon King Alfred. Lives he yet?"

"Westward doth the gray wolf run, Westward toward the setting sun; Follow fast and seek ye him In the forest dank and dim."

"Then he doth live!" and the jarl turned to his followers. "Heed well the words of the volva. Heed well and fasten them upon your hearts, for to-morrow do we seek for the Saxon king." He threw a gold ring on the high seid platform, and said, "Knowest the maiden aught of the hiding place of the king?"

"Well knows the maiden Where Alfred lies hidden. By that in her bosom Is she forth on his bidding."

Hakon started towards the maiden, who nervously clasped her harp to her breast. At this moment the voice of the vala rose high in a shriek and the jarl ran back to hear the frenzied utterances. Egwina felt her hand touched, and a voice whispered:

"Start not, maiden, nor tremble. I am Ethelred, the youth who beheld thee in the forest with King Alfred. Be of good courage. Thou hast one friend here."

Egwina turned her head for the moment, and when she did she beheld near her the form of what appeared to be a young Dane. He looked towards her and smiled slightly, and then did she see that it was indeed the Saxon youth. Now hope infused into her heart, and, with better courage, she listened to the ravings of the seid woman.

"'Ware, 'ware of the forest, Jarl Hakon, The dragon steals forth from his lair, He tears thee and thy people asunder, And leaves ye as food for the bear.

"Then take from the vala a warning; Seek not the Saxon's great king; The forces of Wessex are gathering, The dragon of Wessex will spring."

She ceased, and no more came from her lips. In vain did the jarl throw gifts upon the platform. Whatever the power of the volva, it had left her, and she lay motionless on the stone.

Finding that it was useless to inquire further, the jarl turned to the hall and called loudly for four cups of mead.

"The cup of vows do I drink," he said. "To Odin, who giveth the victory; to Frey and Niord, for a good year and peace, and to Bragi. I vow by these drinks that I have drunk to the AEsir that I will do some great deed that shall be worthy the song of the skald. And that deed shall be the hunting of Alfred. If it so be that Odin hath sent the choosers of the slain to bear me to Valhalla, then welcome will be the warrior's death. Who pledges with me the Valkyrie?"

"I!" "I!" shouted the Northmen, leaping to their feet, each lifting a horn of mead to his lips.

"To Hela, who will mourn in Niflheim, that she is robbed of her prey!"

Again they drank.

"To-morrow will we set forth to seek the Dragon in his lair, the king in his hole. The Raven hath driven the Dragon from his throne. Shall he not tear him in pieces? Who goes with me to hunt King Alfred?"

Again the hoarse shouts of the retainers filled the hall.

"Whether she will or no, the maiden shall lead us," cried the jarl. "Sweet will her songs come to us as, wearied by the march, we tarry for rest."

But Egwina was silent, a resolve growing in her heart that, though death might be her portion, or, worse yet, the severest torture, she would not lead these men to Alfred's hiding place.

The seid woman came down from the platform and glided through the Danes, who, now that they had pledged themselves to Odin, began to hold high revelry, to the side of the maiden.

"Within thy breast there rests a jewel," she said, in a low tone, to the girl. "It is wondrously wrought, and Gyda wants it. Give it to her and she will help thee to escape from Hakon."

"I cannot. It is the--" began the girl, and paused.

"Yea; the king's. I know, maiden, the word that thou wouldst speak. Well do the runes read for Alfred the king. Let me but have his jewel and thou shalt go free."

But Egwina shook her head.

"Wondrous will be thy fate, maiden. Dost wish to know it? Gyda will tell thee, and will help thee on that mission on which thou art bent."

"Why dost thou wish for the jewel of Alfred the king? Saxon thou art not. Why dost thou wish it?"

"It bringeth good fortune to him who carries it. Wisdom and all the magic of galdra will be mine if but I possess the jewel of Alfred. Long, long ago, the runes told me that but one thing I lacked, and then all things would unfold to my view. That was something belonging to a Saxon king of the line of Cerdic who should be driven from his throne by my people. Give it me, maiden. All thy fate will I unfold, and more. I will compel Guthrum to extend his frith (peace) over thee so that thou mayest find those whom thou seekest in safety."

"No;" said Egwina boldly. "Let me know of my fate only as it comes to me. I will not aid thee in thy wicked art. Naught of King Alfred's should be used in so base a cause; and not this jewel while I hold it."

"Have a care, girl," hissed the woman. "If thou wilt not give it me, then will I obtain it by guile. Think not that Gyda hath no art."

"I will seek Hakon the jarl. He will take me under his hand," and Egwina rose to her feet.

"Do so," sneered the other. "His frith will he give thee, if thou wilt but lead him to the king's hiding place. Choose ye."

The maiden hesitated. It was even as the witch woman said. Helplessly she looked for Ethelred. He had disappeared from the hall. In despair she sank back upon her seat, and leaned her head upon her harp.

"Look at me, thou Saxon maid," commanded the wicca.

Almost without knowing what she did, Egwina looked at the woman.

"Heed, maiden, my words. Listen to the song of the witch woman, Gyda. Heed the words which she sings to thee, and sleep, maiden, sleep."

She made some passes over the maiden's head singing a low crooning song as she did so. Vainly Egwina made the sign of the cross. In vain did she strive to hold the sapphire ring which Ethelfleda had given her before her vision. The crooning song repeated its rhythmical measures in her ears. The eyes of the seid woman blazed. Living sparks seemed to leap from them to the eyes of the girl. They burned into her brain. She felt her senses reeling, going.

Faintly the voice of one of the Northmen sounded in her ear:

"Gyda, the seid woman, hath caused the maiden to fall into the magic sleep."

Faint and far off as a whisper they reached her, and sounded in her ears, "The magic sleep," and she knew no more.