Thrice this happened, and every time the murmur grew more loud.  Indeed, I thought I heard one say,

“The man’s not blind at all,” and another, “Some spirit guides him.”

As I made my fourth journey I caught the sound of a distant tumult, the shouts of war, the screams of agony, and above them all the well-remembered cry of “Valhalla!  Valhalla!  Victory or Valhalla!”

I halted where I was and felt the blood rush into my wasted cheeks.  The Northmen, my Northmen, were in the palace!  It was at this that Martina had hinted.  Yet in so vast a place what chance was there that they would ever find me, and how, being blind, could I find them?  Well, at least my voice was left to me, and I would lift it.

So with all my strength I cried aloud, “Olaf Red-Sword is here!  To Olaf, men of the North!”

Thrice I cried.  I heard folk running, not to me, but from me, doubtless those whose whispers had reached my ears.

I thought of trying to follow them, but the soft and gentle hand, which was like to that of a woman, once more clasped mine and held me where I was, suffering me to move no single inch.  So there I stood, even after the hand had loosed me again, for it seemed to me that there was something most strange in this business.

Presently another sound arose, the sound of the Northmen pouring towards the hall, for feet clanged louder and louder down the marble corridors.  More, they had met those who were running from the hall, for now these fled back before them.  They were in the hall, for a cry of horror, mingled with rage, broke from their lips.

“’Tis Olaf,” said one, “Olaf blinded, and, by Thor, see where he stands!”

Then Jodd’s voice roared out,

“Move not, Olaf; move not, or you die.”

Another voice, that of Martina, broke in, “Silence, you fool, or you’ll frighten him and make him fall.  Silence all, and leave him to me!”

Then quiet fell upon the place; it seemed that even the pursued grew quiet, and I heard the rustle of a woman’s dress drawing towards me.  Next instant a soft hand took my own, just such a hand as not long ago had seemed to guide and hold me, and Martina’s voice said,

“Follow where I lead, Olaf.”

So I followed eight or ten paces.  Then Martina threw her arms about me and burst into wild laughter.  Someone caught her away; next moment two hair-clad lips kissed me on the brow and the mighty voice of Jodd shouted,

“Thanks be to all the gods, dwell they in the north or in the south!  We have saved you!  Know you where you stood, Olaf?  On the brink of a pit, the very brink, and beneath is a fall of a hundred feet to where the waters of the Bosphorus wash among the rocks.  Oh! understand this pretty Grecian game.  They, good Christian folk, would not have your blood upon their souls, and therefore they caused you to walk to your own death.  Well, they shall be dosed with the draught they brewed.