Tyrker rolled up his eyes devoutly.  “Heaven itself it is that so has ordered it for the shield-maiden!  You see, my son?  This youth here can make runes,-she can read them; so can you speak with her without that the father shall know.”

“Bring torches into the sleeping-house,” Leif called, rising hastily.  “Valbrand, take your horse and lay saddle on it.  You of England, get bark and an arrow-point, or whatever will serve for rune writing, and follow me.”

What took place behind the log walls, no one knew.  When it was over, and Valbrand had ridden away in the darkness, Rolf sought out the scribe and gently gave him to understand that he was curious in the matter.  But Alwin only cast a doubtful glance across the fire at Helga, and begged him to talk of something else.

Late the next afternoon, Valbrand returned, his horse muddy and spent, and was closeted for a long time with Leif and the old German.  But none heard what passed between them.

CHAPTER X

THE ROYAL BLOOD OF ALFRED

    Brand burns from brand,
    Until it is burnt out;
    Fire is from fire quickened. 
    Man to man
    Becomes known by speech,
    But a fool by his bashful silence. 
        Ha’vama’l

Brave with fluttering pennant and embroidered linen and sparkling gilding, amid cheers and prayers and shouts of farewell, on the third day the “Sea-Deer” set sail for Greenland.

Newly clad from head to foot in a scarlet suit of King Olaf’s giving, Leif stood aft by the great steering oar.  The wind blew out his long hair in a golden banner.  The sun splintered its lances upon his gilded helm.  Upon his breast shone the silver crucifix that had been Olaf’s parting gift.  His hand was still warm from the clasp of his King’s; no chill at his heart warned him that those hands had met for the last time, no thought was in him that he had looked his last upon the noble face he loved.  Gazing out over the tumbling blue waves, he thought exultantly of the time when he should come sailing back, with task fulfilled, to receive the thanks of his King.

Bravely and merrily the little ship parted from the land and set forth upon her journey.  Every man sat in his place upon the rowing-benches; every back bent stoutly to the oar.  Dripping crystals and flashing in the sun, the polished blades rose and fell, as the “Sea-Deer” bounded forward.  To those upon her decks, the mass of scarlet cloaks upon the pier merged into a patch of flame, and then became a fiery dot.  The sunny plain of the city and the green slope of the camp dwindled and faded; towering cliffs closed about and hid them from the rowers’ view.

Leaving the broad elbow of the fiord, they soon entered the narrow arm that ran in from the sea, like a silver lane between giant walls.  Passing out with the tide, they reached the ocean.  The salt wind smote their faces; the snowy sail drew in a long glad breath and swelled out with a throb of exultation, and the world of waters closed around their little craft.