LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 A LOVERS' TALE
 
 A LOVERS' 
 TALE 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE HEWLETT 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK :::::: 1915
 
 Copyright, 1915, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Published March, 1915
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. — THE BROTHERS IN MIDFIRTH 
 II. — THE WHALE . 
 III. — CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 
 IV. — CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 
 V. — CORMAC IN LOVE . 
 VI. — DOINGS AT TONGUE 
 VII. — FIGHTING AT TONGUE 
 VIII. — THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 
 IX. — THE PLIGHTING 
 X. — THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 
 XI. — BERSE COMES IN . 
 XII. — STANGERD'S WEDDING . 
 XIII. — CHASE .... 
 XIV. — PARLEY 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 5 
 10 
 
 22 
 30 
 
 44 
 58 
 72 
 86 
 106 
 124 
 
 135 
 
 150 
 167
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XV- 
 
 XVI.- 
 
 XVII.- 
 
 XVIII.- 
 
 XIX.- 
 
 xx.- 
 xxi.- 
 
 XXII.- 
 XXIII.- 
 XXIV.— 
 
 xxv.- 
 
 NOTE 
 
 -CORMAC MAKES READY . 
 -BATTLE .... 
 
 -BERSE GOES HOME 
 -DOINGS AT THE THING . 
 -STANGERD FREES HERSELF 
 -TOOTHGNASHER 
 -THORWALD THE TINSMITH 
 -CORMAC COMES BACK 
 -STANGERD GOES TO THE FLEET 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 
 -THE END OF IT . 
 
 PAGE 
 176 
 
 185 
 I96 
 209 
 218 
 232 
 
 243 
 
 254 
 
 267 
 
 273 
 290 
 
 294
 
 A LOVERS' TALE
 
 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE BROTHERS IN MIDFIRTH 
 
 TNTO Midfirth runs the Mell river through 
 mudflats and marl to mix green water 
 with the salt waves. On either side the 
 land is rich and wet, giving fine pasture, 
 and you can hardly see the snow peaks 
 beyond the fells from which Mell comes down 
 cold and green and clear. There on the 
 brae stood Melstead, and there it stands 
 yet. Once it was the house of Ogmund 
 and his wife Dalla; but he died before 
 the tale begins, which begins with Dalla, 
 a widow and blind, and her two grown sons 
 — Thorgils and Cormac.
 
 2 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Dalla had been a fine girl when she 
 married Ogmund, as he himself was a fine 
 man, who had been a fighter and a Viking 
 in his day. Between them they had this 
 couple of fine sons, of whom Thorgils, the 
 elder, favoured his father, but had little 
 of his quality. A broad-shouldered, fair- 
 haired, sleepy young man he was now, 
 steady at his work, and in his ways mild 
 and quiet. He thought twice before he 
 spoke, and therefore seldom spoke at all. 
 If everybody did that, the world would 
 be a peaceful place and much work done 
 in it; but it would be very dull. Cormac 
 took after his mother in looks, being vivid 
 black and white. His hair was jet-black 
 and curled freely, his face was very high 
 in colour, that ran off to white in his fore- 
 head and neck. His eyes were light grey 
 and rather fierce. He was a wild young 
 man, but very friendly after the bout. He 
 had no idea how strong he was; but his 
 brother knew, though they were very good
 
 THE BROTHERS IN MIDFIRTH 3 
 
 friends for all that. He had a keen eye 
 for the flight of a bird or the play of a fish, 
 knew the weather by the smell of it, and 
 could sing and make verses. Sometimes he 
 made verses because he had been moved; 
 sometimes he was moved because he had 
 made verses; and often he did not know 
 which way it had been with him. Although 
 he had no notion of setting up for a poet, 
 he thought about himself and his sensations 
 a good deal, and had found out already 
 that he did not greatly care to do anything 
 unless he could watch himself doing it, 
 and watch the thing done as it suffered 
 the doing. That's a poet all over; but he 
 didn't know it. It gave him the conclusion, 
 however, that he was very unlike his father, 
 the Viking, to whom the killing of a man 
 was not at all the same as the killing 
 of a pig. But Cormac, who had never 
 killed a man yet, fancied that, to him at 
 least, there would be no essential difference. 
 His father again (he had heard) had loved
 
 4 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 many women, while he had loved never 
 a one. But his father had been very 
 jealous in his loves, and had killed almost as 
 many men because they had intermeddled 
 in his love-affairs. Now Cormac, thinking 
 that over, felt very sure that he should 
 never be jealous if he were a lover. He 
 theorised at large about it; he gave the 
 subject a great deal of attention. Love- 
 making must enhance a woman, he thought, 
 even in the minds of her lovers. If she was 
 beautiful, it was surely her due. If she 
 was plain, it would provoke desire. What 
 more lovely sight could the world offer a 
 man than to see the woman he longed for 
 the burning-point of the world's longing ? 
 He kept these ideas to himself because he 
 had nobody but his mother to whom he 
 could have imparted them. She would have 
 laughed at him and made him angry. 
 
 When this tale begins, Cormac was a full- 
 grown man, strong for his age.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE WHALE 
 
 '\X/ r HEN the whale came ashore at Waters- 
 
 ness, Thorgils heard of it first. He 
 
 went down to look at it, and found 
 
 it was upon his land. It lay there, a 
 
 mountain of distress, and the flies about it 
 
 were as thick as a snowstorm. At home 
 
 that night he spoke of it to his mother, 
 
 and said that one of them must set to work 
 
 cutting it up next day, or all would be 
 
 spoiled. It was late autumn, very close, 
 
 still, and hot, as it often is before the 
 
 weather breaks up. Dalla said: "Cormac 
 
 will never go to such a work. He hates 
 
 to foul his hands." 
 
 "Then I must do it myself," said 
 
 s
 
 6 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Thorgils; "but I had been going on to the 
 fells to round up the sheep. It is fully 
 time." 
 
 "Send Cormac after the sheep," Dalla 
 said, "and let Toste go with him, and send 
 some of the hands." 
 
 Just then Cormac came in. They heard 
 him whistling outside in the dusk. He 
 stayed there a good time whistling, singing 
 scraps of songs, then came in and looked 
 at them, scowling from under his black 
 brows. He looked as if he had been 
 expecting to find nobody and was annoyed 
 by a sudden roomful of people. But they 
 took no notice of him, and his face cleared. 
 It was like the sun coming out from 
 behind a cloud. He threw his head up 
 and laughed richly and snugly, as if to 
 himself. 
 
 Dalla heard him. "What are you 
 laughing at?" 
 
 "You," he said, and she asked: 
 
 "Why so?"
 
 THE WHALE 7 
 
 He came and kissed her. "Because I 
 love you, I think." 
 
 "That's an odd reason," she said, turning 
 up her sightless face. 
 
 "No, it's not," he said; "it's a very 
 good reason. Whenever I come upon 
 something I love, and find it, all closed 
 in and ready to my hand, it tickles me. 
 I laugh and think to myself, * There's that 
 pretty thing, snug against when I want it.' 
 And then I go away and do what I've got to 
 do, and remember that it's there all the time." 
 
 His hand was stroking her face, and she 
 moved about to get the feel of it. She 
 was very pleased. "Your brother here 
 thinks you a madman; but I understand 
 you," she said. 
 
 "So does he, when he wants me," said 
 Cormac, and sat down to his supper. 
 
 "I shall want you in the morning," 
 Thorgils said after much reflection, and 
 told him about the whale. Cormac made 
 a sour face.
 
 8 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 But he took a long draught before he 
 spoke, and then he said: "That will be 
 a dirty business, Thorgils. Can't you give 
 me one more to my liking ? You know 
 I do ill what I have no taste for." 
 
 Thorgils said: "Well, you can round 
 up the sheep on the fells if you please. It 
 matters little to me. These things have 
 to be done. There's snow coming when 
 the wind changes. It is banking in the 
 north-west even now." 
 
 This was a long speech for Thorgils, who 
 had no more to say after it, and soon went 
 to bed. Cormac sat up, telling his mother 
 tales or listening to her stories of his father 
 when he had been seafaring in Ireland; 
 and before he himself went to bed he must 
 needs go out of doors again. There was a full 
 moon shining in splendour over the firth, 
 and the sky was wonderfully clear. You 
 could see over the fells to the white cap 
 of Eiriks-jokul gleaming in the Southern 
 sky like a dome. Below that, and three
 
 THE WHALE 9 
 
 days' journey short of it, were the fells 
 where the sheep lay, and Cormac must be 
 betimes in the morning. He would go with 
 Toste, who was the Melstead reeve and 
 worked the dogs. 
 
 But though he shortened his night by it, 
 Cormac nevertheless walked about the shore 
 under the glory of the moon; and many 
 a verse he made and sang to himself as he 
 looked over the full, flowing water or marked 
 the ducks bobbing about like a fisherman's 
 floats in the broad path of light.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 
 
 / T A HEY rode out at sunrise, Cormac and 
 Toste, with the dogs and house-carles, 
 and worked all day fetching in the 
 sheep. It was hard work; and the dusk 
 came down early and found them still at 
 it. Toste, who knew where they were, said 
 that it would be well to put into Nups- 
 dale-stead for the night. "They'll feed us 
 well, and we shall hear some good talk," 
 he said. 
 
 Cormac said it was all one to him where 
 he stayed. He was ready to sleep out on 
 the fell, or go home, as Toste pleased. 
 
 Toste was for Nupsdale-stead. He knew 
 the master of the house, and was known of 
 
 IO
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE n 
 
 him. "They will make you welcome, too," 
 he told Cormac, "and you'll see the finest 
 girl in the country, I believe." 
 
 "Who's that, then?" says Cormac. 
 
 "Why, Stangerd, Thorkel's daughter of 
 Tongue. She's been fostered there these 
 four years, and was like a spoiled hawk 
 when I saw her last, three years back, I 
 daresay. She will be of a likeable age by 
 now — sixteen years old or thereabouts. A 
 handful, I'll warrant her — a breaker of 
 hearts." 
 
 "We'll go to Nupsdale-stead," Cormac 
 said. "I should like to see her." 
 
 Toste went on with his meditations aloud. 
 "A burning girl — a big girl. She'll set you 
 afire. There'll be a pair of you." 
 
 Cormac laughed, and threw his head up. 
 Then they went on through the acres to 
 the homestead, which was a spacious place 
 well sheltered from the wind; and soon 
 they heard the dogs give tongue from the 
 roof, and soon it was their business to fight
 
 12 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 them off, and keep their own from 
 
 dismemberment. 
 
 $ $ $ $ $ 
 
 They were well received in the hall, where 
 they found a company sitting at drink, 
 a good fire, and a table where there would 
 be supper by and by. Cormac looked 
 about for the finest girl in the country; 
 but there were no women in the hall: a son 
 of the house served the newcomers with 
 drink. At the further end was the high 
 seat with two great pillars carved with the 
 heads of Odin and Thor; and on each side 
 of that curtains were hung so that there 
 could be a passage all round 
 
 Presently, as they sat listening to the 
 talk, Toste gave Cormac a nudge, and when 
 he got his attention, looked towards those 
 curtains. 
 
 Cormac nodded. "I know," he said. 
 "There are two of them there. " 
 
 Behind the curtains were two pairs of 
 bare feet shining in the light from the fire,
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 13 
 
 and a hand stirred the folds, as if to keep 
 them together. 
 
 Cormac watched them for a little, then 
 began to sing softly, as if to himself: 
 
 "O eye-deceit or heart-deceit, 
 Lo, there, my blessing or my bane ! 
 A lover at a lady's feet 
 Holding his heart, and there a pain ! 
 
 A lady's feet, and there a lover: 
 A patch of snow left by the rain ] 
 Afield, or two tufts of white clover — 
 And near beside a young man slain." 
 
 Then the white feet drew back; but 
 presently Cormac saw another thing — or 
 Toste did and showed it to Cormac. The 
 heads upon the high seat pillars had had 
 empty eyes; but now the eyes of Thor 
 were agleam. 
 
 "She is looking at you," said Toste. 
 
 Cormac nodded. 
 
 "She has bright eyes. The fire plays 
 with them."
 
 14 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Then he sang again: 
 
 "The fire plays with my lady's eyes, 
 And they make music in my head. 
 The sea-blue bird that flashing flies 
 Like a sword down the river-bed, 
 Links the green earth and azure skies ; 
 And so with me is Stangerd wed, 
 When light with light is handfasted." 
 
 Whether she heard him or not, her eyes 
 remained shining in the empty sockets of 
 Thor, and Cormac watched them. By and 
 by the sockets showed empty; and not 
 long after that, Stangerd and a companion 
 came into the hall at the lower end and 
 sat down together on a bench and looked 
 guardedly at the company. Stangerd was 
 a tall and big girl, with corn-coloured hair, 
 very fine and abundant, and, as Toste said, 
 she was fire-hued and bold-looking, with 
 blue eyes. She was bold-looking, and had 
 bold, free movements. Cormac looked at 
 her, and spoke to himself. He looked and 
 muttered, looked and muttered. Then he
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 15 
 
 broke out so that Toste could hear him, 
 and others beside Toste. Stangerd herself 
 could tell that he was talking verses, and 
 be sure that they were about her. As for 
 her friend, she revelled in it. 
 Cormac sang: 
 
 "O mood of mine — O fever song 
 Begot when I cast eyes upon her ! 
 When eyes gave me this burning lass, 
 Daughter of Thorkel of the Tongue — 
 A goddess' maid, a Maid of Honour, 
 Flusht in the face, with hair like brass, 
 Or corn that yellows to the sickle, 
 Full tall and free, and bold, and young; 
 Deep-bosom'd, too, with deep blue eyes 
 Like slumb'ring pools — a girl of size, 
 Whom seeing no man, you'd say, would stickle 
 To take to bed and make a woman — 
 Heart shows her me a spirit not human ..." 
 
 There he stopped, not because all men 
 were considering him and his muttering and 
 his fixt eyes, but because words failed him. 
 He still looked at Stangerd, but could not see 
 her for the fiery mist which enwrapt her.
 
 16 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Toste said, "That's a splendid girl, that 
 girl of Thorkel's. There won't be such 
 another in the country. Yet he would be 
 a bold man who would wive her." 
 
 "Why so?" Cormac asked him in a 
 stare. 
 
 Toste said, "Look at the colour of her; 
 look at her ease and boldness. She is the 
 sort that will ask and have." 
 
 Cormac said, "All that is as it may 
 be. What she wants should be hers by 
 right. She is good to look upon — and that 
 is enough for me." 
 
 "You seem to find her good," said Toste, 
 "and you may look your fill. You'll never 
 look her out of countenance. She's a match 
 for you." 
 
 Cormac could see that the two girls were 
 talking about him, for they looked side- 
 ways as they whispered together, but kept 
 their faces turned away from him. He 
 could not hear what they said. 
 
 Stangerd, it seemed, did not approve of
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 17 
 
 him very much, but the other girl praised 
 him. 
 
 "A fine young man," she said, "with a fine 
 way of looking at you, without offence. He 
 looks at you as if you were a flowering tree. ,, 
 
 Stangerd said, "He's like a magpie — all 
 black and white. And I dislike a curly- 
 headed man." 
 
 "He has good eyes, sweetheart," said 
 the other girl. "He misses nothing." 
 
 Stangerd shrugged one of her shoulders. 
 "Black eyes, he has. They are treacherous. 
 They see much and show little." 
 
 "They see you, my dear," said the other, 
 "and so much, at least, they show. If I 
 am not a goose they show you a deal more 
 than that." 
 
 Stangerd felt their scrutiny, and endured 
 it for a good while; but presently she began 
 to blush, and then must move, complaining 
 of the fierceness of the fire. 
 
 The men brought in the food for supper; 
 and then, as the custom was, the women
 
 1 8 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 of the house waited on the men, pouring 
 them their drink. Cormac's eyes followed 
 Stangerd about from man to man. He 
 said very little at table, but seemed as if 
 he was bewitched. When she came to his 
 side and stood above him to pour out the 
 liquor, he did not look at her, but frowned 
 at his platter. Nor did he watch her any 
 more until she went out with her foster- 
 mother and the other girls of the house. 
 
 He drank deeply from his horn, and then 
 looked at Toste as he sang: 
 
 "Full in the hall, rob'd in her white 
 She sat at ease with her arms bare, 
 And gaz'd before her at the light, 
 Dreaming — and her blue eyes astare 
 Encompast me and gave me sight 
 Of their mystery and intent — 
 
 And when about the board she went, 
 Serving the men with mead, and came 
 And stood above me till I bent 
 Before her, as before the flame 
 The bushes in a forest bow 
 And show all white — I had her name 
 As if 'twas written on my brow:
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 19 
 
 A Valkyr, Chooser of the slain ! 
 
 A storm-fraught spirit, fierce as pain, 
 
 With whom to clasp and kiss, or grapple 
 
 As man with woman, that were thought 
 
 To deaden a deed — as if you brought 
 
 The lovely Night to bed, or fared 
 
 To play below the gleaming thrapple 
 
 Of the keen daughter of the snow, 
 
 And froze when her white hills she bared. 
 
 Not possible ! Nay, let her go, 
 Mistress of Destiny, unmov'd 
 Her way of the gods, her way of woe, 
 But ever lovely, ever lov'd, 
 Treading the necks of beaten men !" 
 
 Toste said: "You are badly hit, I see." 
 Cormac made no answer, and fixed his 
 eyes upon the girl until she left the hall 
 with her companion. The master of the 
 house, who was fostering Stangerd and 
 had observed the effect she had had, came 
 over the hall and sat by his two guests. 
 He pledged them, and encouraged Cormac 
 to talk. 
 
 That was not at all hard, as the young 
 man was excited, and had drunk enough
 
 20 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 to loosen stiffer tongues than his own. He 
 talked freely, but very well. Men gaped, 
 then laughed at him, then laughed with 
 him. Very often he broke naturally into 
 verse; and soon his was the only voice 
 you heard. His father, Ogmund the Viking, 
 was his best theme; he had a way of 
 picturing the scenes in which his life had 
 been spent. Once, he said, Ogmund rowed 
 up a broad English river in his long ship 
 with a raven at the prow. His ship was 
 called Raven. They rowed up between 
 great banks of grass and mud until they 
 came to a town lying on a sloping ground 
 — a close-huddled town of red roofs, with 
 a church overtopping all. They sacked the 
 town, and had all the plunder to share — 
 white women, children, cattle, flocks of 
 sheep. They scorned the men and killed 
 most of them. They drowned the headman 
 by tying him to a stake in the channel at 
 low tide. Cormac said that the sea came up 
 at him solid, in a wall of brown water, curling
 
 CORMAC GOES TO NUPSDALE 21 
 
 at the edge. It brimmed about his chin, 
 and then filled his mouth and his eyes. 
 Then you saw it dimpling over the top of his 
 head; and then, for a long time, the wave 
 he made, swaying there, slanted over the 
 flood from bank to bank. He made a song 
 about the women whom the rovers shared 
 among them, and held the company spell- 
 bound. 
 
 Stangerd lay awake listening to Cormac's 
 singing. 
 
 "Now Stangerd lay abed within 
 The house's inmost sanctuaries, 
 With both her hands between her knees, 
 And them drawn up towards her chin 
 Touching the fulness of her breast; 
 And her wide eyes could get no rest 
 That sought the dark and saw clouds float, 
 Clouds of crimson radiant mist 
 Which gather'd, mass'd and cours'd above her 
 More lovely than the wings of the West — 
 If such wild heart should turn to love her, 
 What love-words would not such a throat 
 Pour for the overwhelming of her!"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 
 
 |*N the morning Cormac went out of the 
 house to the water-trough, and dipped 
 his head half a dozen times; and that 
 was the best of his washing. Then he 
 goes back into the hall and finds it empty, 
 but voices of women come upon him from 
 beyond the curtains, and one of them is 
 Stangerd's. Straight as a hawk he goes 
 thither, and finds the women's room, and 
 Stangerd there in her shift and petticoat, 
 combing her long, yellow hair. He had 
 never seen such hair in his life; it was 
 gold in colour, and reached below her knees. 
 Her arms and shoulders were very white, 
 but her neck was burning, and so was her 
 
 22
 
 CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 23 
 
 face. He stood looking at her in the door- 
 way. The girl whom he had seen over- 
 night was with her — a pale, slim girl, with 
 light grey eyes and a laughing mouth. 
 Stangerd went on with her affair, but this girl, 
 called Herdis, nudged her, and whispered: 
 
 "Here is the fine stranger from the shore." 
 
 But Stangerd's head was sideways to him, 
 and her face averted. 
 
 Cormac said to her, "Will you lend me 
 the comb ?" 
 
 She looked up then, tossing her hair in 
 a wave behind her. She looked very boldly, 
 but her colour was high. She held him 
 out the comb without saying anything, and 
 began to rope her hair, that she might coil 
 and pin it with a pin. 
 
 While Cormac was combing his hair, the 
 girl Herdis stood between them, and said 
 to him, "What do you think of her hair?" 
 
 Cormac said, "It is like the silk which the 
 worms make, when it is fresh carded." 
 
 "What hair were that for a man's wife
 
 24 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 to have!" said Herdis. "And her eyes — 
 what say you ?" 
 
 Cormac said, "They are like the sea when 
 the sun is behind you as you stand wonder- 
 ing at it. They are bluer than the sky when 
 you stand in a narrow valley and look up." 
 
 Stangerd had a rope of her hair in her mouth, 
 and was pinning a coil. She looked from 
 Herdis to Cormac without fear or confusion. 
 Then she took the hair from her mouth and 
 said: "Have you not done valuing me?" 
 
 Herdis laughed. "My dear, we have not 
 yet cast up the figures, nor even set them all." 
 Then to Cormac she said: 
 
 "Do you set a price upon her?" 
 
 Cormac, looking at Stangerd, said: 
 
 "For all that body's loveliness 
 I would give Iceland, and no less, 
 And all the lands that lie between 
 The land where the sun is never seen 
 And the roaring Western main; 
 And even so I should be fain 
 To search the world for more to give — 
 Yet search I must if I would live!"
 
 CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 25 
 
 Stangerd liked this song, and was more 
 gentle in her ways. She looked at Cormac 
 with interest. 
 
 "You are a skald," she said. "I knew 
 that yesterday. I heard you singing in 
 the hall." 
 
 "I sing when the words and music come 
 to me," said Cormac. "Last night there 
 was no trouble about it. I felt very greatly, 
 and so sang greatly." 
 
 "I heard you," she said, "but not the 
 words. What did you sing about?" 
 
 "My dear," said Herdis, "can you ask 
 him that ?" 
 
 "Why not," said Stangerd, "since I wish 
 to know ?" 
 
 "He sang about you," said Herdis. 
 
 Stangerd asked him fairly: "Is this 
 true?" 
 
 "It is not true," Cormac said, "in the 
 v/ay she means it. Your name did not come 
 into the song I sang. But the summer- 
 time came into it, and the yellowing of
 
 26 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the corn-acres, and the stillness of the heat 
 on summer mornings, and the hush of the 
 noons, and the gentleness of the evenings; 
 and the rising of the harvest moon, full 
 and hot, and the brown intake she makes 
 about her in the sky. All these things were 
 in the song — but your name was not in it 
 at all." 
 
 Herdis took Stangerd's arm, and the pair 
 of them stood together before Cormac. 
 
 Stangerd asked him if he was going away 
 that morning. 
 
 "How do I know?" he said. "It may 
 be that I shall be here talking to you. It 
 does not rest with me." 
 
 Stangerd smiled. "Does it rest with 
 
 me 
 
 ?" 
 
 Yes," said Cormac, "and with no 
 other." 
 
 "Here is one coming," Stangerd said, 
 "who may wish to have a word in it." 
 
 Toste came into the room. 
 
 "It is time we were away, Cormac,"
 
 CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 27 
 
 said he. "We have many a fell to beat 
 
 over." 
 
 The eyes of Stangerd and Cormac met. 
 Then Cormac said: 
 
 "It is written that I stay here this day. 
 You will find me here when you come off 
 the hill." 
 
 "Now where do you get that written?" 
 said Toste with a grin. 
 
 Cormac said, "It is written in the heart 
 of Stangerd." 
 
 "No, indeed," said Stangerd, "I don't 
 read it there." 
 
 "But he does," said Herdis, and Toste 
 said : 
 
 "A man can read his own runes, but not 
 what is in the heart of a woman. Well, I 
 wish you joy of your day; it will be better 
 than mine." 
 
 So then he went, and Cormac remained 
 all day talking to Stangerd.
 
 28 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 In the evening Toste came back for him, 
 and he must go. 
 
 Stangerd came to the door of the house 
 with him. She did not wish him to go, 
 but she said nothing about it. They stood 
 together at the door without speaking. 
 Stangerd leaned against the door-post, and 
 Cormac was near her, but not touching 
 her. 
 
 When Stangerd was moved her cheek- 
 bones showed and the colour was fierce 
 and high over them, as if she had been 
 burned there. So they showed now. It 
 grew dusk, but still Cormac could see those 
 patches of red in her cheeks. 
 
 He said, "It grows late, and I must 
 go after Toste. When shall I see you 
 again r 
 
 She said, "I am always here. You 
 will see me when you come to look for 
 me." 
 
 Cormac said, "That will be very soon, 
 I am thinking." Then he said, "Good-
 
 CORMAC WILL NOT BUDGE 29 
 
 night, Stangerd," but did not touch her 
 with his hand. 
 
 She said, " Good-night, Cormac," and 
 stood there a long time after he had gone 
 in the gathering dark. 
 
 Herdis came to her bed, and would have 
 got into it, for she wanted to know all about 
 it; but Stangerd pretended she was sleepy, 
 and would not let her in.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 
 
 /"^ORMAC was very silent at home, and 
 remained silent for several days; 
 but he was intensely happy, feeling 
 himself in bondage to Stangerd. He made 
 up more situations for her than you would 
 believe, and was not himself in one of them. 
 In his fancy he saw Stangerd beloved by 
 everything in the world, and beloved by 
 everything in turn. He was happy enough 
 in this possession of her without any other, 
 and did not make any attempt to visit her. 
 
 After a while, he told his mother of his 
 affair. Dalla looked rather grave. 
 
 "I hear she is a fine girl, much sought 
 
 after." 
 
 30
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 31 
 
 "She is a beautiful girl," said Cormac, 
 "and most reasonably sought." 
 
 "I am thinking that she will be too fine 
 for your winning, my son. Thorkel will 
 want a price for her. And he is no great 
 friend of ours." 
 
 Cormac said, "There is no hurry. I 
 shan't speak to him yet awhile. But I 
 shall go to see Stangerd to-morrow." 
 
 "And what shall you say to her?" 
 
 "That is as may be. If I feel called 
 upon to say anything, I shall say it. All 
 that I need now is to see her." 
 
 +f* ^C rf*. rj^ *f* 
 
 He went, as he had foretold. He reached 
 Nupsdale about noon and, as he leaned 
 over the wall of the intake, saw Stangerd 
 through the open doorway of the kitchen, 
 and two men with her, watching her while 
 she worked. He watched her for a long 
 time, speculating which of the two fellows 
 loved her more, and whether either of them 
 loved her as he did. He became very excited
 
 32 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 over his nearness to her, but had no 
 immediate need to be nearer. The home- 
 stead seemed to him a holy place; every- 
 thing about it was enhanced by her presence 
 in it, moving familiarly about it; the two 
 young men, her companions, grew tall and 
 splendid to him. He felt more interested 
 in them than he had ever been in any man. 
 Then he sang, as the song moved in him: 
 
 "I love a lovely woman — well, 
 And if some other love her, good! 
 All goes to prove my hardihood, 
 All goes her magicry to tell. 
 For say she is a miracle, 
 Say that her beauty is my food, 
 Am I so surly in my mood 
 That what feeds me rings t'other's knell? 
 Nay, should a hundred be about her, 
 And she of her great bounty feed them, 
 Is that to say my heart must heed them? 
 Not so. 'Tis they can't do without her. 
 Women are so made, they grow stouter 
 Of heart the more their lovers bleed them." 
 
 He felt perfectly at ease. He wished 
 the young men very well, hoped she was
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 33 
 
 kind to them, "as kind as she was to me 
 when I was with her all day." The thought 
 of that day came back upon him like a 
 flood of sudden warm weather. His heart 
 beat. "Oh, I am a fortunate man — that 
 such a beautiful woman should be kind to 
 me, and let me be about with her all 
 day!" 
 
 Presently Stangerd, having finished what 
 she was about, came to the door and stood 
 there; she leaned against the doorpost. 
 She saw Cormac out in the meadow, but 
 made no sign. He stood still looking at 
 her, and then leapt the wall and came 
 directly to her. Two dogs rushed out of 
 the house, barking furiously; but he took 
 no notice of them, and kept his eyes upon 
 Stangerd. 
 
 She coloured up, but he did not. He came 
 and stood before her. 
 
 "When did you come?" she asked him. 
 
 "A long time ago. I don't know when 
 it was."
 
 34 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "Why did you not come to the house?" 
 
 "Because I was looking at you." 
 
 "Will you come in now?" 
 
 "I will come in if you are going in. If 
 not I will stay here." 
 
 "My foster-father will be in soon. He 
 will ask me why you are here." 
 
 "You may tell him, if you please." 
 
 "What am I to tell him?" 
 
 "That I am come to see you." 
 
 "No— I shan't tell him that." 
 
 He laughed, but said no more for a time; 
 nor had she anything to say. 
 
 Then, suddenly, he said, "The sun is 
 loving you." 
 
 "He is burning me," she said, and put 
 her hand up to shade her face. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The goodman came home to dinner, and 
 was not very pleased. Whatever he may 
 have asked Stangerd, he took little notice 
 of Cormac, but ate his dinner grimly and
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 35 
 
 soon afterwards went out. Cormac stayed 
 with Stangerd all the afternoon. It grew 
 dark, and the moon came up over the 
 fiord. 
 
 "Now it is her turn/' Cormac said. 
 "She will light me down the fell; but her 
 eyes will be upon you all the time." 
 
 Then he said, "Will you come to the end 
 of the court with me?" 
 
 "Why should I come?" 
 
 "The night is blue," said Cormac. "I 
 wish to see you in the night's arms." 
 
 Stangerd said nothing to this; but she 
 went with him into the air, and as far as 
 the end of the court. 
 
 He told her, "I shall come again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "You were wiser not," she said. 
 
 "It is necessary for me to see you." 
 
 "It was not necessary yesterday." 
 
 "It will be necessary to-morrow." 
 
 Again she had no answer, being neither 
 able to agree with him nor to deny. He
 
 36 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 left her without a touch or a look, and was 
 gone like a nightbird into the dusk that 
 fleets far upon one stroke of his silent 
 wings. 
 
 Stangerd remained where she was for a 
 while. Many men had loved her, but not 
 in this fashion, to say at once so much 
 and so little about it, to be so plain and so 
 dark. After this he came to see her most 
 days, and treated her in just the same 
 way. 
 
 Stangerd was a beautiful girl, richly 
 coloured and finely formed. She had been 
 admired since she was ten years old, and 
 had often been told so. But she had never 
 been admired as Cormac admired her, and 
 had heard nothing like his admiration. 
 Most men expressed themselves indirectly, 
 by look or inference, by silence, by 
 quarrelling with other men. If they told 
 her in so many words that she was a beauty, 
 they did it shamefacedly, and tried to make 
 a joke of it. But Cormac from the first
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 37 
 
 told her so plainly, and seemed to devote 
 himself to making clear to her exactly how 
 and exactly how much she was beautiful. 
 He was, without doubt, making it clear 
 to himself, but she couldn't have known 
 that. And everything that he told her was 
 told in a plain, still voice, as if he were 
 speaking about the weather or the crops, 
 as indeed he thought he was. 
 
 Naturally, she was very much interested. 
 Who in the world does not like to hear 
 about herself? 
 
 He told her some very strange things, too, 
 which she did not at all understand, but 
 which none the less she accepted or passed 
 over because they came from him. She 
 would have been highly offended if any 
 other man had so spoken. 
 
 He said that everything in the world was 
 her lover. He said that in rhyme, and 
 said it to her when she was sitting on the 
 brae in full sunlight, with him kneeling 
 on one knee behind her. She felt his eyes
 
 3 8 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 bent upon her, boring like two augers through 
 the top of her head. 
 
 "Great joy of Stangerd have I had, 
 Joy to the full of one man's tether; 
 Greatly have loved her, hugely dared, 
 Riding the dales or upland heather, 
 Singing her bounty; being glad 
 Because her blissfulness I shared 
 With every other mother's son 
 In this good world: for this is true, 
 Stangerd, the whole world joys in you. 
 
 Let her have husbands, one, two, three — 
 
 A dozen are no more than one: 
 
 All Nature is her lord in fee, 
 
 And bird and hill-flower, stock and stone, 
 
 And spearing grass and springing tree, 
 
 The clouds, the river and the sun 
 
 Hold Stangerd in coparcenary. 
 
 For, as I look upon the thing, 
 
 Their beauty is a cup for hers, 
 
 And nothing worth considering 
 
 But what they tell as messengers 
 
 Of how she figures in their glass. 
 
 So the lark lift as she did pass 
 
 And said, 'The world is bright with glee 
 
 Since Stangerd lookt and smiled at me;
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 39 
 
 Therefore I sing' — or grass, 'Her feet 
 Press me in love ! ' — or flower, ' How sweet 
 The breath of Stangerd when she goes 
 With parted lips!' — or tree, 'Who knows — 
 Passing, she laid a lingering hand 
 On me, and doubtful seemed to stand 
 Whether or no to take me to her; 
 Who knows but she will let me woo her 
 And be her lover in the dark 
 When the sap throbs beneath the bark?' 1 
 
 She sat very still while he was singing 
 this, nursing her cheek in her hand. Pres- 
 ently she said, "You say curious things in 
 your songs. I think I ought to be offended, 
 but I am not. I should be offended if I 
 believed them, or if I thought that you be- 
 lieved them." 
 
 Cormac said, "You are wrong there. If 
 you thought that I did not believe them, 
 you would have cause to be offended. 
 But I know them to be true. I read 
 them in the face of things, I can't be 
 mistaken."
 
 40 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Then he sang on: 
 
 "So did the cloud, a jealous lover, 
 Beshadow her, as he would cover, 
 And prove himself her bosom's lord, 
 And make a guarded woman of her — 
 Had not the sun with his bared sword 
 Rent him with gashes, and outpour'd 
 His courage on her; the which the river 
 Rejoicing saw: *0, thou brave giver 
 Of heart to horse, and horse to pasture,' 
 Cried he, *I hail thee! Warm the blood 
 Of Stangerd, that she slip her vesture 
 And come to me, and know my flood!' 
 
 She grew very hot, and got up to go. 
 She thought he was following her, but he 
 was not. When she turned to look for 
 him behind her, he was not there; and 
 presently she saw him far down the fell, 
 springing from boulder to boulder, going 
 down towards the sea. 
 
 Another day he told her that she was 
 too beautiful to be the wife of one man. 
 No plain-minded man, he said, would ever 
 marry her, because he would know that
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 41 
 
 he had neither the power nor the right to 
 engross so rare a thing. When she frowned 
 and bent her blue eyes upon him, and pre- 
 sently asked him: "Why, what would you 
 have done with me?" he said that his own 
 opinion was that she ought to be the wife 
 of everybody. Then he sang: 
 
 'There were four brothers loved one lass — 
 Ask not how much or when this was. 
 It was before the world took heed 
 Of more than how to serve its need. 
 
 Their need was sore, her bounty such, 
 They askt not, nor she gave, too much: 
 They roamed the heath, they fought and kill'd; 
 They were as one long sword and shield. 
 
 She kept the house; there was no strife 
 Within doors, such a sweet housewife 
 Was she, this kindly kindled lass, 
 Such wife as no man living has." 
 
 Then he turned his head and looked down 
 upon her where she lay wondering, with 
 her face between her hands. "So should 
 you be the whole world's wife, since you
 
 42 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 are as much more beautiful than she was, 
 as she in her turn outwondered the women 
 of her day. You should live in a temple 
 by yourself, and be mate of every man who 
 honestly and respectfully commended him- 
 self. In that way you would be Goddess 
 and Bride of all Iceland and Goddess 
 and Mother too. You would wear the 
 Girdle of Fricka. No other woman would 
 be thought of at all — which is as it should 
 be. Some day soon I will make a song 
 about that." She moved away, saying 
 that he must not. 
 
 What was she to make of it ? She pre- 
 tended to be angry, but was not so at all, 
 for she knew that he meant it for a high 
 compliment. 
 
 So the winter passed and the spring 
 came on; and so the year wore to the 
 summer. Cormac spent most of the time 
 with Stangerd, but did not declare himself 
 in any way that you could take hold of. 
 It seemed that he talked to Stangerd as
 
 CORMAC IN LOVE 43 
 
 if she were a beautiful landscape, a cornfield 
 in heavy ear, or the fell when the heather 
 was in flower, or a birch-wood in early 
 spring, or the firth in the quiet of dawn. 
 He never scrupled to say that she was as 
 lovely as any of these, or that everything 
 in nature loved her. It never occurred to 
 him to say that he, in particular, loved her. 
 As for asking for her, Stangerd was sure 
 that such a thought had never entered 
 his head. Meantime — she fed upon his talk 
 as if it were bread and honey.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 
 
 Yt/'HEN Thorkel of the Tongue heard 
 what was going on at Nupsdale, he 
 went up there after his girl. He 
 did not see Cormac, but he called Stangerd 
 to him, and said: "I hear that Cormac 
 of Melstead is often up here after you. 
 Now come you back with me, my girl." 
 
 Stangerd said that she was ready. 
 
 "Yes," said her father, "it seems to 
 me that you are ready for many things. 
 All in good time and one thing at a time. 
 Let all be done in order and with decency." 
 
 So he brought her home to Tongue, and 
 it was not long before Cormac heard that 
 she was there, and went to see her. 
 
 44
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 45 
 
 Thorkel saluted him fairly, and passed 
 the time of day with him, thinking that 
 he would judge for himself how things were 
 going to turn out. Cormac sought out 
 Stangerd and talked to her so long as the 
 daylight lasted. Thorkel watched him closely, 
 and didn't know well what to make of it. 
 He didn't know, for one thing, why Cormac 
 irritated him so much; but presently he 
 found out. It was because the young man 
 did not know he was there. It was because 
 he behaved as if the whole house held nobody 
 but Stangerd and himself. Thorkel's house, 
 mind you, and (if you come to that) Thorkel's 
 daughter. No man could be expected to 
 like that. 
 
 And so it went on for a time, and Stangerd 
 used to watch for Cormac's coming, and to 
 take it as a matter of course that he should 
 be with her in whatever business she might 
 have, and sit with her, and talk. Many 
 men were in the hall at Tongue, for it was 
 a busy place. But when Cormac was there,
 
 46 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Stangcrd saw no other person, and Cormac 
 saw none but her. The world indeed held 
 but the pair of them, as it seemed. 
 
 Thorkel said little, but he did not like it, 
 and did not like Cormac, who seemed to 
 him too free of his house and child. He 
 was a shrewd man of few words, and did 
 not believe in Cormac. Such words as he 
 let out were not hard to understand, and 
 there were those about him who made the 
 most of them. 
 
 There was a rough man named Narve 
 who was about the place, and there were 
 worse than he. The two sons of Thorveig 
 the spae-wife were very often at Tongue 
 after Stangerd: the eldest of them was 
 called Ord, a blusterous young customer 
 always at rough play. Stangerd had no 
 liking for him, and Cormac at this time no 
 jealousy at all; but Ord was very jealous. 
 
 However, Narve, who was a fool, was 
 the one that began. He said to Thorkel 
 one day: " Master, it's not hard to see
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 47 
 
 that Cormac's visitings are not to your 
 taste." 
 
 "Who told you that?" Thorkel asked 
 him. 
 
 "My wits," said Narve. 
 
 Thorkel said, "I am glad they are of 
 some use to you. They are not far out 
 this time. I know no harm of Cormac, 
 yet I wish he would leave my girl alone." 
 He can be taught that," Narve said. 
 As how?" 
 
 In the old way," said Narve; "by a 
 better man than himself." 
 
 Thorkel glanced at him. "Do you mean 
 by you, perchance?" 
 
 Narve said "I do." 
 
 Thorkel had nothing to say to that; 
 then Narve went on: 
 
 "Do you give me leave to deal with 
 him?" 
 
 Thorkel said, "You need no leave of 
 mine. Deal with him how you can — or if 
 you can." 
 
 
 a
 
 48 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Narve took this for more than leave, 
 and set his wits to work to provoke Cormac. 
 
 The year was wearing to the close. The 
 harvest was all in, the sheep were in pen, 
 and the cattle in byre. Now was the time 
 when men were killing beasts for salting 
 against the winter. At Tongue that was 
 Narve's work in particular; but everybody 
 was very busy. 
 
 Cormac came in there one evening and 
 looked about, as he always did, for 
 Stangerd. She was not in the hall, but in 
 the kitchen, where the work was going on. 
 She had covered herself with a great apron 
 and was busy with the rest. Narve was 
 stirring a cauldron of black puddings and 
 watched the pair. They met without 
 greeting; Stangerd scarcely looked at Cor- 
 mac, but was very much aware of him; 
 as for Cormac, he did not take his eyes 
 from her, but went and stood by her, very 
 close. Narve could not see that they had 
 much to say to each other, and judged that
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 49 
 
 matters were beyond speech. Stangerd 
 went on with her work under the eyes of 
 Cormac. Presently Narve called out to 
 Cormac: "Hither, runagate, and see my 
 snakes in the kettle." 
 
 Cormac looked over to him. "What am 
 I to see ?" 
 
 "Come and see how they boil and bubble. 
 See them all in love with one another. 
 They can't leave each other alone." 
 
 Cormac frowned, but he went to the 
 cauldron. Narve stuck his prong in and 
 fished out a pudding. "Kettle-snakes, I 
 call them," he said. "Wrigglers and 
 hankerers. What do you think of them?" 
 He stuck the hissing morsel under Cormac's 
 nose, grinning, gleaming at the eyes. 
 
 "Why, I think," said Cormac, "that I 
 could see you writhing in there after a few 
 more [of your speeches — but you would 
 foul the broth, and there are shorter ways 
 with you." 
 
 Narve said, "The shorter the better."
 
 50 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Then Cormac took him suddenly by the 
 ear, and cuffed him soundly, and flung 
 him away. Narve went out of doors. 
 
 Ord came in among them, and went to 
 Stangerd, where she was salting the meat. 
 He nodded to Cormac, but spoke to her: 
 "Oh, Stangerd," he said, "you should 
 be out on the brae. The moon is coming 
 up, and the evening is very still and 
 warm." 
 
 Stangerd said she was too busy; and 
 then Cormac said, "She will go — but not 
 with you." 
 
 "With whom, then?" said Ord with a 
 hot face. 
 
 "With me, then," said Cormac. 
 
 Ord clacked his tongue on his palate, but 
 held his ground, red and furious, as he well 
 may have been, seeing he had known her 
 the longer, and considered her in a sense 
 his own. Cormac also was troubled — not 
 angry, but troubled because his sense of 
 intimacy was gone. Yet very soon another
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 51 
 
 thought took possession of his mind. It 
 was, that it was a beautiful thing to see a 
 beautiful girl beset by lovers or admirers. 
 He saw how calm and unconcerned she 
 appeared, going on with her rubbing, with 
 two flaming and fuming youths about her. 
 He doubted if self-possession went deep; he 
 guessed that within her her heart was drum- 
 ming a lively measure. But her outward 
 bearing was noble. She seemed not to have a 
 care in the world but the rubbing in of salt; 
 and then he thought of her as the bountiful 
 Earth itself, the mother, the adored, the 
 need of all men. He was inspired, and 
 he sang of her: 
 
 "Well do they call you Sleeping Gold, 
 Since no man lives but cannot see 
 The light-flung glory which you hold 
 As Erda holds her majesty, 
 A thing of little worth, the fee 
 Of whoso asketh, being bold. 
 Let him draw nigh, the well is free, 
 Say you, the fire for who's acold: 
 Let him drink, warm himself of me.
 
 52 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Your heart, Stangerd, you hold up 
 For asking men; they need but need — 
 There is no bottom to the cup, 
 There is no pauper but may feed. 
 So in your calm eyes each may read 
 The truth he asks, if he be true — 
 So to your arms all come indeed 
 And die, as they have lived, of you — 
 And your gold sleeps, and takes no heed." 
 
 Stangerd bent to her work, but she 
 flushed, hearing this song. She felt that she 
 did not yet know Cormac, and that she must 
 either pretend that she did, or drive him to 
 explain himself. She did not wish to do this 
 before Ord, lest Ord should think less of her. 
 So she bent to her task and said nothing. 
 
 But Ord fretted and fumed, then broke 
 into scoffing. 
 
 "The skald is bold enough — with the 
 tongue. Women take words for deeds, 
 I believe. But men don't." 
 
 "Some men do," said Cormac. "Narve 
 is one. You have not yet been tried. But 
 you may come to it."
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 53 
 
 "And if I come to it, Cormac, what 
 then?" Ord put back his shoulders. 
 
 "If I tell you," said Cormac, "that is 
 tongue-work. But you ask for deeds." 
 
 Ord glared at him, very red, working his 
 tongue about. Then he turned away. 
 
 "I won't ask— I'll do," he said. So Cor- 
 mac held his place. 
 
 But Stangerd was cross. "You should 
 not sing of me so," she said, "before other 
 men. I am ashamed." 
 
 "Of what are you ashamed ? Of me ? 
 That can hardly be. If I belittled you, or 
 held you cheap, you might well be ashamed. 
 But if I declare your glory?" 
 
 "You don't choose to understand me. 
 You talk of — you talk of my eyes " 
 
 "Of course I talk of them since I see 
 them, and think of them all night," he said. 
 
 " and of my arms, as if — I was — 
 
 I don't know what." 
 
 "It is very possible that you don't know 
 what you really are," Cormac said. "But 
 I shall tell you before I have done with you."
 
 54 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "You may tell me what I please to hear," 
 said Stangerd with heat; "but you shall 
 not talk before other men of my person. 
 It makes me ashamed. " 
 
 Cormac threw up his head. "0 warmth 
 of the Earth ! O heart of the World ! 
 There is no part of your person of which 
 you need be ashamed. You might mate 
 before the eyes of all men at the Thing, 
 and you would but blind them with your 
 splendour. ,, 
 
 She bit her lip, but her eyes looked 
 kindly at him; and presently she went 
 with him to the door, and stood without 
 it in the dark with him. 
 
 And they both stood trembling together, 
 and presently, without word said, they 
 turned and kissed. 
 
 "Eye-level and heart-level they, 
 And mouth-level; but till that day 
 Never had been what now must be: 
 Kissed mouth to kissing mouth is fast, 
 And two hearts beating to one tune.
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 55 
 
 Breathless and speechless for their boon, 
 They cling together; but they kiss 
 No more; but mouth and mouth co-mix 
 And make one being at the lips. 
 And all burnt splendour of the moon 
 Throbs with the heat of burning noon." 
 
 That was the first time that ever Cormac 
 kissed Stangerd, and it was the first of 
 many. For after that she let him take her 
 in his arms and kiss her as he would, and 
 bless Heaven for having made her, and 
 cry to the stars to shoot from their sockets 
 and make a wreath for her head. And 
 she herself kissed him once or twice, and 
 prayed him not to be foolish, and believed 
 that he was not. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Cormac marched singing on his way under 
 the stars. He went by the shore of the 
 firth, and before he left the water he went 
 in up to his middle, and soused his head 
 and shoulders. He laughed suddenly, think- 
 ing of Narve.
 
 56 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "The scullion and his kettle-snake! 
 What ailed him and his blister'd tongue ? 
 Will he scrape me with his muck-rake, 
 Scatter me, as he scatters dung 
 About the meadow ? And the house 
 That holds her harbours that wood-louse ! 
 Salmon and gudgeon in one lake, 
 One tree, sea-eagle and titmouse !" 
 
 Then he went home to bed. 
 
 But at Tongue, over the fire, Thorkel 
 sat frowning while he heard what Narve 
 had to say. 
 
 "The fellow is dull," said Narve, "or 
 he shams dullness. I showed him as plain 
 as I could speak that we had had more than 
 enough of him. I insulted him; but no ! 
 It needs more than words." 
 
 "He had you by the ear, I understand," 
 Ord said; and Thorkel said, "You're not 
 man enough." 
 
 Narve flamed. "Man enough! I'll show 
 him how much of a man I am — when there 
 are not women in the room. But there 
 was Stangerd and a maid or two more,
 
 DOINGS AT TONGUE 57 
 
 and you know what girls are about these 
 things ! Bloodshed ? No, no. Not before 
 women. Don't ask me to do that." 
 
 Ord said to Thorkel, "My brother and 
 I are at your service when you want us." 
 
 Thorkel said, "There's room here for 
 a ready hand, seemingly. Come up here 
 to-morrow, the pair of you, and we'll have 
 him out of it." 
 
 They laid a plot between them before 
 they went their ways. Narve said that 
 he was ready for anything, and Ord said 
 he would bring in his brother Gudmund.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 
 
 PHEY laid a trap for Cormac at Tongue, 
 which Stangerd perceived, though she 
 did nothing to prevent it, since not a 
 word was said of him throughout their prep- 
 arations. You do not ask a girl who respects 
 herself to talk of her heart-concerns to men. 
 She will never do it. She would as soon 
 undress herself before them. Moreover, 
 her father was about the house all that 
 afternoon, the last person in the world to 
 whom she could talk of Cormac. 
 
 The first thing was that Ord and Gudmund 
 came to Tongue carrying weapons of war. 
 They had swords and shields. With them 
 
 came Narve, who had been out in the 
 
 58
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 59 
 
 meadow since dinner-time, looking for 
 them. He brought a scythe over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 They shut the front door, and shot one 
 of the bolts. Then the scythe was hung 
 upon a nail, with the blade across the 
 entry, and on the other side of it two nails 
 were driven aslant, so that a sword leaning 
 upon them cut across the corner of the 
 door itself. Both of these things must 
 fall when the door was opened. Such 
 preparations were made, and the men sat 
 about drinking mead, not saying very much 
 above a whisper. 
 
 Ord tried to sit with Stangerd, who had 
 her yarn to wind, but she was very indignant, 
 and would have nothing to say to him. 
 Thorkel came in and out, but towards the 
 time when Cormac might be looked for, 
 he went into the kitchen, and waited there, 
 peering. Stangerd saw him through the 
 crack of the door. She continued to wind 
 her yarn, and busied herself over it. She
 
 60 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 had no fear, however, for Cormac: it was 
 not that which troubled her. She was 
 convinced of his better mettle and more 
 fortunate star. It would take stronger, 
 stiller men than Ord to put him down. 
 But she was enraged at the injustice of 
 her father, that he should abet Ord's 
 jealousy, and knowing nothing against 
 Cormac, yet take rank against him. Because 
 he didn't relish song-making, was song- 
 making therefore shameful ? Her heart 
 burned in her breast, and the edges of her 
 cheek-bones burnt her cheeks. 
 
 The barking of the dogs declared the 
 coming of her lover. Narve, the fool, could 
 not keep still. He jumped in the air and 
 cracked his fingers. Ord and Gudmund 
 looked at each other, but said nothing. 
 Then presently they heard Cormac's step 
 in the court, and the sound of his voice 
 singing. 
 
 The door was tried. He found it bolted. 
 He drave against it with some staff or other
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 61 
 
 which he was carrying. Gudmund tiptoed 
 to the door and shot back the bolt. Cormac 
 drave into it again with his staff, and it 
 flew open. The scythe and the sword came 
 down together and met in midway, falling 
 with a clash and shiver. Scythe, being 
 heavier, brake sword. Cormac stood, 
 smiling and bright-eyed, looking on. He 
 saw Stangerd in her white gown, and was 
 going directly to her over the wreckage 
 at the door when Thorkel bounced out. 
 
 He was in a high rage. He shook his 
 hand at Cormac. "You worthless rascal ! 
 You night-worker, get you gone ! What 
 have you been to this house but a 
 cause of scandal and bitterness ? Get you 
 gone with your mouthful of folly and 
 wind !" 
 
 Cormac laughed pleasantly, and made him 
 worse. 
 
 "You grin, you grin, you bitch's whelp! 
 But there shall be a ruefuller grinning for 
 you before long."
 
 62 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He went into his hall, and took Stangerd 
 by the arm. "Up with you, mistress, and 
 come with me. Here is mischief enough 
 for your fine eyes. There shall be no more." 
 
 She had risen, red and troubled herself. 
 Holding her by the upper arm, he bustled 
 her through the hall and out by the women's 
 door. He thrust her into the byre, and 
 shut the door upon her, locking her in. 
 "Stay there, till we have scared out this 
 gadfly skald," he said. 
 
 * 
 
 Meantime Cormac had gone into the hall. 
 Narve was not there; but at the further 
 end he saw the two brothers, with their 
 bare swords on their knees. 
 
 "What is afoot?' 3 he asked, looking from 
 one to the other; but they said nothing. 
 
 He stood doubtfully, looking first at them, 
 and then about the hall, next at the 
 ruins on the floor. He stirred them with 
 his toe.
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 63 
 
 "When scythe and broad-sword come to blows, 
 Plain men take heart, and meadow-grass. 
 But there's no pasture for the ass, 
 However fair the home-mead grows. 
 Cudgel your wits, I'll cudgel your hides, 
 Ye greedy pair of hoody crows." 
 
 They sat glum, glowering at him from 
 beneath their brows. So far Cormac had 
 not been in a rage, but now he got suddenly 
 angry. He walked up to the brothers. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this foolery ? 
 What have I done to Thorkel or to you 
 that I should be received in this manner?' 3 
 
 Ord said, "You are not wanted here. 
 Is it not plain enough ? What more 
 can a man do than take his daughter 
 out of the house the moment you come 
 into it?" 
 
 Cormac answered him: "He can see 
 that worse men than myself are out of it 
 first. But he lets his house fill with smeary 
 scamps, and then bolts them in lest he lose 
 one of them. You are none of you fit to
 
 64 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 sweep the floor for Stangerd's feet. You 
 make that foul which was only gritty with 
 good dust before.' , He turned suddenly 
 and saw Narve in the entry of the Bower. 
 In a flash he was upon him, and had him 
 by the ear. "You — dish-washer — where is 
 Stangerd ?" He screwed his ear round, 
 and Narve writhed. 
 
 "She's locked up in the byre then," he 
 said in a hurry. 
 
 Cormac loosed him, and went straight 
 through the house and out of the women's 
 door, where the maids were clustered to- 
 gether, and saw him go. He shook the 
 door of the byre, and called, "Stangerd, 
 are you there ?" 
 
 She answered him, "Yes, I am here." 
 
 "I must see you," he said; but she said, 
 "No, no, you can't get in." 
 
 "Can I not?" said Cormac, and took a 
 short run and butted into the door with 
 his shoulder. It burst at the lock. 
 
 She was alarmed; her eyes were bright.
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 65 
 
 "Oh, you are mad to act so! My father 
 will set on you." 
 
 "He will not, then," said Cormac, and 
 took her in his arms. He had never been 
 so eager to hold and kiss her before. He 
 had always seemed afraid of her, but now 
 he was not at all afraid. Stangerd was 
 glad of him, and very proud. Her father 
 did not come near them, and there they 
 stayed till it grew dusk. Then she bade 
 him go for fear they should set upon him 
 in the dark; and Cormac himself thought 
 it was the better way. 
 
 "Farewell, my sweet," he said, with his 
 lips to hers. "I think I never loved you 
 like this before." 
 
 "No," she said, kissing him. 
 
 "You were Goddess to me," he told her; 
 "but now you are woman." 
 
 "I like it better," she said. 
 
 He felt a sudden chill at the heart. He 
 knew — something told him certainly — that 
 it was not so good a way. Then he left her
 
 66 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 and went through the house to go home. 
 The house was empty so far as he could 
 see. 
 
 Beyond the court there were the meadows 
 stretching downwards to the brook, with 
 stone walls about them. Then came the 
 valley-bottom where rushes grew and some 
 sycamore-trees. Beyond the water the hill 
 rose; and here was your path if you were 
 going to Melstead. 
 
 Stangerd went to the door presently, 
 and watched Cormac go through the 
 meadows. 
 
 He went fast, vaulting wall after wall. 
 She wasn't sure, but she believed that 
 Thorveig's sons were waiting for him in 
 the bottom. When Cormac came to the 
 last wall she was sure; for he stood on the 
 top of it and remained standing for a while. 
 Then when he jumped down, and she could 
 only see his head and shoulders, she saw 
 the men come out of the trees. Her father 
 was not one of them. They were Ord,
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 67 
 
 Gudmund, and Narve. Ord aimed a spear 
 at him. She saw it fly. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Cormac had seen the ambush before he 
 got to the last stone wall. He stood on it 
 that the ambushmen might know that he 
 saw them and come out into the open. They 
 all came out together, but when they were 
 within hurling distance, they separated. 
 Narve hung back in some alder bushes, 
 Gudmund went to the left, and Ord to the 
 right. Cormac jumped off the wall and 
 went between them. He had an axe. 
 
 Ord ran a little way forward and hurled 
 his spear. Cormac met it with the axe, and 
 it glanced off and stuck in the moss. Then 
 Gudmund, who had been running, doubled 
 up, came behind him to cut him off from 
 the wall; but Cormac was too quick for 
 him, and was on him like a gust of wind. 
 He swung his axe as the spear came, and 
 cut it in half as if it had been a bulrush; 
 then he whirled the axe round backhanded
 
 68 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 and caught Gudmund in the neck with it, 
 and brought him down. If he had not been 
 giving ground at the moment his head had 
 been off. As it was, the blade did not hit 
 true; but he gushed blood from nose, mouth, 
 and ears, and fell like a stone. 
 
 Cormac turned and waited for Ord, who, 
 having shot his spear, now came at him 
 with a sword. 
 
 Stangerd, watching by the door, turned 
 quickly when she heard a man's foot in the 
 hall, and saw her father coming out with 
 his bill. Her eyes burned. 
 
 "What are you going to do, father?" 
 she said. 
 
 "Get out of my way, you !" he answered; 
 but she would not. She came to him and 
 caught both his wrists. He raved at her; 
 but she held on. 
 
 "You shall not — you shall not! It is 
 shameful to be four against one." 
 
 He swore he would be the death of her; 
 but she cared nothing now.
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 69 
 
 Narve came up the court on tiptoe, white 
 as a cloth. "Master, hold you there! 'Tis 
 all over," he said. "Cormac has slain Ord, 
 and, as for Gudmund, I doubt he'll never 
 move again. Fierce work! Bloody work!" 
 He stared about him at the dusk. "We 
 set our feet on a snake. That's what we 
 did. And he's bitten us to the bone." 
 Then he shuddered, and covered his face. 
 Stangerd let go of her father's wrists and 
 went into the house. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was true. Ord was no match for 
 Cormac with any weapon; and sword has 
 no chance with axe if the axe-bearer knows 
 his business. He never touched Cormac, 
 who, after two feints, split his head open. 
 
 This was the first man Cormac had ever 
 killed. He looked thoughtfully at the body, 
 his rage having left him, and then went 
 over to the brother. 
 
 He believed him to be dead too; but 
 he was not actually dead, though he died in
 
 70 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 a few days. His rage had left him — no, 
 not his rage, for he had had none. He had 
 been very excited. That moment on the 
 wall when he saw the three come out of 
 the trees had been the greatest pleasure 
 he had ever known. But now all this was 
 gone, and a feeling of disgust, as if he had 
 tasted something sour and stale, was in him. 
 There seemed a tarnish upon Stangerd's gold. 
 He would not think of Stangerd. 
 
 He found his axe-haft wet with Ord's 
 blood, and the space 'twixt forefinger and 
 thumb was wet too. He shuddered once 
 or twice. It was all a nasty business. He 
 wondered: Should he leave those two 
 things alone there under the stars, or sit 
 by them until it was light ? Gudmund's 
 face showed in the dark — for it was almost 
 night by now — as if there was a light within 
 it. But Ord's case was the worse. Ord 
 had no face now — only horrible parts of a 
 face. He could not bear to look at Ord, 
 or help looking at him. He took off his
 
 FIGHTING AT TONGUE 71 
 
 coat and covered Ord's head and shoulders 
 with it. For Gudmund he had to content 
 himself with boughs from a sycamore-tree. 
 He was very careful of them, having no 
 feeling against them. They had attacked 
 him; he had provoked nothing — but he 
 did not feel at all justified. A beastly 
 business — and Stangerd involved in it. To- 
 morrow he would tell their mother; for 
 the present his coat was testimony enough 
 that this was no murder. 
 
 He went home full of thought; but no 
 verses came into his head, since none were 
 in his heart. He told his brother what 
 he had done. Thorgils said there was no 
 shame to him.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 
 
 HPHORVEIG, the mother of Ord and 
 Gudmund, was a grave, heavy 
 woman with thin hair and light eyes, 
 wide open, which seemed always to be 
 looking at things which were not there. 
 They were like dead eyes. The tale says 
 that she knew too much. Certain it is 
 that when Cormac rode to see her, accom- 
 panied by his testimony, betimes in the 
 morning — certain it is that she had Ord 
 laid out for burial and Gudmund in bed. 
 She was sitting by the dead when they 
 came to the door. It was covered with a 
 sheet, as it had need to be. 
 
 Cormac said what he had to say. "I 
 
 72
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 73 
 
 was attacked from an ambush; I defended 
 myself. It was unprovoked on my part, 
 and well you know it. I offer no atonement 
 nor ransom for this dead man, and I require 
 you to leave our land as soon as may be, 
 and carry yourself and your evil seed else- 
 where." 
 
 She watched him, but said nothing. 
 Thorgils added his testimony. "I am with 
 Cormac in this, Thorveig. I know that 
 he did nothing against Ord. If you doubt 
 of that, do you ask Thorkel of Tongue, or 
 his man Narve, who was of the ambush 
 too, but never came to blows. And when 
 Cormac says that you must leave our land, 
 I am with him there also. We will not 
 have enemies at our doors." 
 
 Then Thorveig got up and said: "111 
 fall him who takes land from another, but 
 worse fall them who take again what they 
 have freely given. Think not you, Cormac 
 Ogmundsson, to prosper in these ways. 
 True enough you can get me gone from the
 
 74 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 hundred; like enough you will not ransom 
 my sons. But I have that within me to 
 put me even with you yet. You think 
 you have cleared your way to Stangerd by 
 such doings. You are a fool, then, for you 
 will never have her." 
 
 Cormac looked as if he would laugh at 
 her; but he changed his mind. "The 
 settlement of such a thing is not with you, 
 woman," he said. 
 
 "Ah," said she, "you are right there. 
 It is with you, and I see it in you, and know 
 it. And this, too, I see: that the foolishest 
 thing you ever did was to fall foul of me and 
 mine. It will come to pass also that you 
 will wish me back at Melstead before many 
 years are gone over. These things I see, 
 but you cannot see. Now get you gone 
 with your friends and leave me with my 
 dead." 
 
 With that she sat down by the covered 
 corpse, and Cormac rode away. 
 
 *****
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 75 
 
 He did not go to Tongue that day, nor 
 the next, though he thought of Stangerd, 
 and never had her out of his mind. He 
 wandered about the country by himself, 
 asking of himself why he did not go to see 
 her. He hungered and thirsted for her; 
 he was sure of that. But it was a new kind 
 of love — it was more than love, or less. It 
 was a craving. He knew what he had 
 felt when he brake open the door of the 
 byre, and took her. He knew that he should 
 feel that again directly he was in her 
 neighbourhood. To look at her with eyes 
 of desire, not with eyes of wonder; to hold 
 her close, to kiss her long; to need, more 
 and more, never to have done — all this 
 she could call out of him now; but, in 
 the doing, she would lose her first power 
 over him, to evoke amazement and delight, 
 to reveal to him glory and power. One 
 thing or the other, but not both. How 
 was it to be ? He thought of these things 
 all day and went to bed with them. In
 
 76 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the morning he woke up to find them all 
 about the bolster like flies. He made a 
 bitter song, wherein she suffered as much 
 as he did. 
 
 "This is not love that drains me — nay, 
 This is to crave. O girdled Fricka, 
 Dare I come near thee with lips gray 
 For need of thine, and hot tongue-liquor 
 Where once my mouth was clean to pray ? 
 
 I would go back ! There is no way 
 To thin the blood I have made thicker; 
 Save scratch for itch is no allay. 
 The flame is at its dying flicker, 
 Blown by hot breath, it cannot stay. 
 Speed it with scorn, that it die quicker — 
 Alas, the hour! Alas, the day!" 
 
 But there was another thing: He must 
 go to Tongue to show Thorkel that he was 
 as good a man as he, and not one to be 
 scared off by a door-trap. He must go 
 to Tongue, as his right was; and if it was 
 his pleasure to talk to Stangerd, he would 
 do it, let come what might — even if so to
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 77 
 
 do were to cheapen her. And thus he left 
 it, and thus it was when he did go up to 
 Tongue. 
 
 He got scowling looks from Thorkel, and 
 very scared looks from Narve in response 
 to his pleasant greeting. From Stangerd 
 he got little. She was rather cool, he 
 thought; whereas the truth was that she 
 was conscious of her company and conscious 
 of herself. Men had been fighting for her, 
 and here she was now in the presence of 
 two of them, and of a third, you may say, 
 since her father would have been a fighter 
 if she had not stopped him. All this 
 made her shy and awkward. She could 
 not feel herself that day; it was now 
 for Cormac to begin. But Cormac did not 
 begin. 
 
 He was with her most of the morning, 
 saying little. He felt that a look from 
 her, a sigh, however little, would set 
 him blazing like dry hay. But he did not 
 get it, and he began to wonder whether he
 
 78 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 wanted it. He watched the play of her 
 hands at the loom, he watched the light 
 show silvery on her chin and neck as she 
 moved about. He had glimpses of her 
 deep blue eyes; while, as for her hair, 
 he bathed in the golden glow and strength 
 of that. She was indeed a burning lass; 
 but she was not what she had been at 
 first — a light and wonder of the earth. 
 Tears came to his eyes as he remembered 
 his first estate, and knew it lost for ever. 
 And yet he loved her, and could not keep 
 away from her. 
 
 He began to judge her. He thought she 
 was slow to move, somewhat insensible; 
 he felt sure that she did not love him. To 
 be sure, it was some testimony to a girl, 
 lovely as she might be (and was, God 
 knew), that a man should dare a houseful 
 to see her, and fight single-handed against 
 three. It was not much — poetry was much 
 more — but it was something. And she 
 reckoned it for nothing, and waited to be
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 79 
 
 wooed. But had she not been wooed by 
 that fighting ? He went away early, and 
 did not ask her, since she did not offer, to 
 come to the door with him. 
 
 Next day he was in a black mood and 
 most wretched. He did not go to Tongue, 
 which was a remarkable thing in these days. 
 His mother waited for him to speak, but as 
 he would not, she herself began upon the 
 affair, and got short answers from him. 
 Presently she said, "I will tell you this, 
 my son. It was not thus that your 
 father, a captain of men, wooed me." 
 
 "Why, what did he?" said Cormac. 
 
 "He saw me at a wrestling, and spoke 
 to me before it was over. Then he went 
 to your grandfather and asked for me, and 
 gave gifts; but I only saw him through 
 the half-open door, for my mother kept 
 me in the Bower. He went away without 
 asking for me, and came rarely to the house. 
 He used to say, 'There is time enough. 
 You will find me a good husband to you.
 
 8o A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 I should not have asked for you if I had 
 not believed that. All I see of you, and 
 all I hear, satisfies me. I am a man of 
 full measures, not of half. Wait until the 
 wedding-day and trust to me.' That I did. 
 Your father was a true man of his word, 
 and his deeds suited his words, as a sword 
 lies in a sheath." 
 
 "He was a true man," said Cormac; 
 but he thought in his bitterness, "That 
 was a way to buy cows at a fair, but not 
 to love a woman." He went out by himself 
 on to the heath; but Stangerd called him 
 from afar, and he rose up presently and 
 went to a place whence he could see the 
 house and steading at Tongue, settling 
 down into the dusk. "It is a wonderful 
 thing that within those walls is the love- 
 liest body upon earth, sitting on a bench, 
 leaning by the board. Men are about her 
 insensible of her glory, not trembling in 
 the air which is about her. And I, who 
 know and tremble even here, I am so
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 81 
 
 cursed that I cannot go down there and 
 tell my knowledge ! This is madness in 
 me, and must be fought. To-morrow I 
 go and claim her of Thorkel. But my 
 father's way will not suit me. I shall do 
 it in my own way." He rose up and went 
 home comforted. 
 
 So much for what was to be a bad business. 
 He thought nothing of the spae-wife and 
 her curse upon his doings. He was too 
 disturbed to think of anything or anybody. 
 He seemed to be groping about with scummed 
 eyes. There was a blur, a tarnish upon 
 everything. The pity of it — with the glory 
 so new ! 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 But as for the spae-wife herself, it is told 
 of her that after a while she buried her sons 
 — for Gudmund never got better, and died 
 without knowing her again — and crossed the 
 hills into Sowerby and came to the house 
 of a strong man called Berse. To him
 
 82 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 she told her tale, that her sons had been 
 killed, weregild refused her, and she turned 
 out of her holding by the slayer. "There- 
 fore," said she, "I come to you, Berse, 
 because you are a just man." 
 
 Berse sat well back in his leather-seated 
 chair, and laid the ankle of one leg upon 
 the knee of another, and twirled his 
 thumbs. 
 
 "Who was the man that slew your 
 sons ?" 
 
 She told him. "It was Black Cormac 
 Ogmundsson, who lives in Midfirth." 
 
 Berse blinked. "I have heard tell of 
 him. His father was a great Viking, and 
 died ashipboard. Now wherefore did he so 
 to your sons ?" 
 
 "They got bickering," she said, "over 
 Stangerd, Thorkel's daughter." 
 
 Said Berse, "From breaking hearts to 
 broken sconces there is a short and straight 
 road. I will wager that Cormac was no 
 more forward on it than -your sons. If
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 83 
 
 I don't blame them, I don't blame him 
 either." 
 
 She said nothing to that, but waited 
 on where she was. 
 
 Berse said, "That girl of Thorkel's is 
 a fine girl, I hear." 
 
 Thorveig said she was. "But they will 
 spoil her," she said, "with all this quarrelling 
 about her. Yet Cormac will never have 
 her — that's certain." 
 
 "Who says so?" said Berse. 
 
 She answered, "I say so. I know 
 it." 
 
 Berse went on twirling his thumbs for a 
 time. Then he said, "Well, you shall 
 have land of me. I know nothing against 
 you. There is a steading down on the 
 firth — a good small house and intake. 
 You shall have that. It has a staithe into 
 the water, and there are some boats go 
 with it. You shall have that — but remember, 
 I don't blame Cormac Ogmundsson. I am 
 the last man to do it. They call me
 
 84 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Battle-Berse, Holmgang Berse. I'm a fight- 
 ing man myself." 
 
 The spae-wife said, "And you will have 
 more to do yet, Berse, with your charmed 
 sword." 
 
 "Get along with you," said Berse, rather 
 pleased with her. "I am not so young 
 as I was, and Whiting keeps the fireside 
 nowadays." Now Whiting was his famous 
 sword, with which he had fought thirty 
 wagers-of-battle and won them all. It had 
 a magical stone in the hilt, and was said 
 never to lose its edge. 
 
 "Look to Whiting," said the spae-wife, 
 "and you won't be sorry." She thanked 
 him for his open-handedness, but he only 
 said, "Get along with you." 
 
 She took up her abode in Berse's ferry- 
 house, which is called Bersestead to this 
 hour. It was a good house upon the further 
 shore of Ramfirth, with a haven and a mole. 
 Boats lay snug there. There was a ferry, 
 and many men used the place to cross over
 
 THE SPAE-WIFE'S CURSE 85 
 
 the water to go into Sowerby. Berse himself 
 used it, for his own house was far from the 
 water, high up in the hills of Sowerby. You 
 can see it from the staithe, like a patch of 
 snow afar off; and a great force of water 
 near by.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE PLIGHTING 
 
 ^PHORKEL spoke to Stangerd about 
 Cormac. It was on the evening of 
 the day after the battle, when he had 
 gone early. "My girl," he said, "what 
 is wrong with this man of yours?" 
 
 She flushed, and looked away from him. 
 Her eyes were cloudy. "He is no man 
 of mine," she said. 
 
 "Well," said Thorkel, "he slew a couple 
 of fine fellows last night, and I suppose that 
 was not for nothing." 
 
 She flashed him a look. "He was set 
 upon by three at once — and there would 
 have been a fourth at him but for me." 
 
 Thorkel could not deny it. "And what 
 
 86
 
 THE PLIGHTING 87 
 
 is to be done now?" he asked her instead. 
 "Is he to make free of my house, and of 
 you; to sit here scowling at you, looking 
 you over, and no one to say a word ? Are 
 you not ashamed to be so treated ? If 
 your brother were here, things might go 
 differently, I think. They don't call him 
 Toothgnasher for nothing." 
 
 Stangerd was angry; her cheek-bones 
 showed it. She twisted her hands about 
 and stared out of doors. "Cormac would 
 not be afraid of his teeth," she said. "He 
 has teeth of his own, and has shown 
 them." 
 
 "Little sense has he shown in this affair," 
 says Thorkel. "What does he mean by 
 his singing and nonsense ? He calls you 
 every sounding name he can get at, and talks 
 two-score to the dozen. He'll tell you by 
 the hour together what he is going to do 
 with you — and you suffer it. He sets you 
 up sky-high, but can't see you because 
 your head is in the clouds. What do you
 
 88 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 make of it, you who are a sensible girl, or 
 were so before he ran on about your good 
 looks?" 
 
 Stangerd looked stormy, but handsomer 
 than ever. Her father could not but notice 
 how fine she was, with her rich colour and 
 golden hair and dark blue eyes. But she 
 had not much to say because she did not 
 know what to make of Cormac herself, and 
 she had a feeling that, sweet as his kisses 
 were, she ought not to allow them until 
 he declared himself. Cormac had a way 
 with him which was hard to resist. He 
 had a way of looking at her with narrow 
 eyes, and of saying, "0 Stangerd, how 
 sweet and lovely you are!" — and of taking 
 her. She found that very pleasant. But 
 what baffled her was that at another time 
 he would treat her as if she was unearthly 
 — a being of the other world — and as if he 
 dared not to touch her at all. Lastly, there 
 was his manner of to-day, when he had 
 sat dull and troubled before her, neither
 
 THE PLIGHTING 89 
 
 looking at her nor avoiding the sight of 
 her, but preoccupied, with his thoughts 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Meantime Thorkel had nothing to conceal. 
 He did not understand Cormac any better 
 than she did; but he did not want to 
 understand him. 
 
 "I see that you choose to sulk with me," 
 he said; "but look you here, my girl. If 
 this man of yours comes after you, he must 
 deal with me for you; and let him get it 
 into his head that I will not have my 
 daughter talked about. That would be a 
 disgrace upon my house which I should not 
 put up with. If he don't want you, let 
 him say so, or prove it by keeping out of 
 your way. I can get a husband for you 
 any day; and so I shall if I am to be 
 bothered by this hankering and moon- 
 gazing." 
 
 With that he took himself off. 
 
 *****
 
 90 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 In the morning she was troubled, finding 
 the need of Cormac, and she did what she 
 had never yet done. She went out across 
 the meadows and on to the fell-side to look 
 for him. There was a fine rain falling, 
 but the light was behind it, and it was 
 more like silver mist than rain. She saw 
 him coming and went down to meet him. 
 The rain was shining in her hair; her cheeks 
 and lips were wet. He saw her in his turn, 
 and his feet answered to the leap of his heart. 
 They met without words; but he took 
 both her hands. She could not look at 
 him, but let him hold her hands. She felt 
 the might of his eyes, and liked the 
 feeling. 
 
 Presently he said: "Stangerd, now you 
 shall tell me truly why you have come out 
 to meet me." 
 
 She hung her head and would not let 
 him see her face. But he did see it. She 
 was burning red. 
 
 "By that," he said, "you have answered
 
 THE PLIGHTING 91 
 
 me. And now I ask you this — Whom would 
 you choose to wed ?" 
 
 After a little she shook her fear from 
 her and showed him her face. The love- 
 light was in her eyes, and made her bold. 
 "I should choose to wed the blind woman's 
 son," she said. 
 
 Cormac was very grave. "You have 
 chosen as you ought," he said. "You 
 have chosen me, who have courted you 
 long. So it shall be." He drew her in 
 and put his arm about her. So they stood 
 awhile together. Then Cormac stooped his 
 head to her, and kissed her mouth. He 
 did it just so, deliberately, and without 
 passion. No words were said. She did not 
 know what to make of it. His mood was 
 very strange. 
 
 They went together to the house, and 
 by degrees Cormac's tongue was loosened 
 and he told her of the battle, and spoke 
 of his glumness of the other day. "I felt 
 as if I had been enticed into cheapening
 
 92 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 you by that bout. I felt on a level with 
 those snarling swine — one of a pack 
 about your skirts. I felt that I had been 
 digging a dyke between you and me; it 
 was full of black sludge and slipping eels. 
 When I loved you first you were glorious 
 to me — as you are to-day; but yesterday 
 there was a skin over my eyes. I did not 
 see you glorious. If I cannot love you 
 well, I will not love you at all. You 
 shall be more than wife to me — or 
 nothing." 
 
 He kissed her very often after that and 
 comforted her. She was not bewildered 
 any more, and could talk to him freely. 
 
 "Will you not make peace with my father 
 now?" she asked him. "Do it for my 
 sake. He says hard things to me, and 
 I can't answer him for fear he may say 
 what I could not bear." 
 
 Cormac promised her that, and she was 
 pleased. "Nobody could refuse you any- 
 thing when you are like that," she said.
 
 THE PLIGHTING 93 
 
 "Ho!" said he; "but I shall not kiss 
 your father." 
 
 "If you are friendly to him, he will take 
 it well," she told him. "You are of 
 good fortune — as good as he is — and of 
 good descent. That is what he will 
 look to." 
 
 "Such things mean little to me," said 
 Cormac. "The best thing I can say for 
 myself is that you, who might choose 
 the King of Norway, choose me, Cormac 
 Ogmundsson of Melstead." 
 
 She laughed. "You must find a better 
 thing to say than that. If I don't believe 
 you, how shall he?" 
 
 "Shall I make you believe me, Stan- 
 gerd?" he said with eagerness. 
 
 But she would not let him. "Ask for 
 me," she said, "as the custom is, and not 
 in the way of skalds and minstrels. He 
 does not like your rhyming about me." 
 
 "But you, Stangerd, are pleased when 
 I sing of you ?"
 
 94 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 She thought for a little while, then 
 cast herself upon his breast. ''Oh," she 
 said, "I am pleased, whatever you do 
 with me." 
 
 Then he said fondly: "I will tell you 
 what I would do with you now, Stangerd. 
 I would carry you in my arms out of the 
 house, and through the meadows, and up 
 into the fells. I know a place — a high 
 place where there is a holm, and the grass 
 grows green, and there are tall trees, and 
 within them a hush. And there I would 
 wed you upon a bed of rock-rose, under 
 the stars. And I would build you a house 
 there, and make an altar of stones before 
 it, and keep a fire of fragrant wood burning 
 there perpetually. Nobody should see you 
 for a long time but the sun, the moon, the 
 stars, and me. And you should be loved 
 as never woman was loved before, your 
 body by my body, and your spirit by mine. 
 When you were a mother, I would summon 
 all men to come and do you worship. And
 
 THE PLIGHTING 95 
 
 the songs I would make of you would go 
 all over the world, and your name would 
 be whispered about like the name of 
 Fricka, the goddess who gives love and 
 life to men." 
 
 She blushed at his ardent talk, and 
 welcomed it, for she was susceptible to 
 his moods, though she did not at all under- 
 stand them, and knew that this was the 
 one that became him best. "Oh," she 
 said, "what wild words ! But you must 
 woo me as a girl and not as a goddess. 
 Therefore you shall ask for me properly 
 of my father, and then you shall take me 
 where you will." 
 
 "Well," he said, "I will do it; but it 
 is proper to have witnesses and upholders 
 with me. Therefore I will come to-morrow 
 with my brother Thorgils, and then every- 
 thing will be in order. But for all that 
 I should like it best that I might carry you 
 away now in my arms." 
 
 She believed that that was very true,
 
 96 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 but she had an orderly mind, and could 
 not consider such wild-goose plans. 
 
 He stayed with her till it grew dark, and 
 then left her. She felt very much drawn 
 to him; more than she had ever been when 
 he was away from her, for his power was 
 strong upon her when he was with her, 
 and seemed little when he had gone. But 
 now she knew that she had desire of him 
 and was ready for the day when he should 
 take her home to Melstead. For all her 
 beauty and high colour she was a slow- 
 blooded girl; nobody had ever stirred her 
 as Cormac had now done. Many men had 
 courted her, and she had been pleased with 
 their attentions, and flattered by them; 
 but this man had awoken the woman in 
 
 her. 
 
 $ & $ $ $ 
 
 As for Cormac, he went homewards with 
 feet of lead. He had no idea what was the 
 matter with him; but matter there was. 
 Once he stopped short and rubbed his eyes.
 
 THE PLIGHTING 97 
 
 "What is the meaning of this ? I leave 
 Stangerd, the wonder of the world, her 
 accepted lover, and my heart is like cold 
 plum-pudding. And at the sheep-homing, 
 after I had been a day with her, I came 
 flying, with feet that scarcely touched the 
 heather tufts ! What is this ? She is the 
 same — nay, she is more beautiful than she 
 was. She is like golden fruit upon a wall. 
 To lie in the arms of Stangerd is a thing 
 scarce to be thought of — to love her at night 
 under the stars — a man might go mad 
 waiting for such a joy. But I am not 
 mad; though now I wait. There is some- 
 thing the matter with me. When I talk 
 to her of her beauty I grow by degrees to 
 believe it; but when I think of it, or see 
 it, I don't believe it. And yet I am the 
 same man that I was; I am that Cormac 
 who believed because he knew. Am I so 
 truly ? If I am not — but I tell you that 
 I am. Love her ? Ah, but I do love her 
 — I do — I tell you I do." Then he went
 
 98 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 on his way, but at the edge of his heart 
 there was fear like a blanket of fog, 
 threatening to muffle, and deaden, and 
 stifle it. 
 
 He told his mother and brother about his 
 doings, and asked Thorgils to go with him 
 on the morrow to ask for Stangerd. Thorgils 
 said he would certainly go; and "They 
 say that you have got a fine, tall girl for 
 a wife, and a handsome girl, and a 
 good one." 
 
 "She is all that," Cormac said, "and 
 much more than that. I believe she is 
 the most beautiful girl that ever was 
 born." 
 
 Dalla, his mother, shook her head. "I 
 shall never see her; but I shall tell by the 
 feel of her. I hope she is even-tempered; 
 for your wife will need to be." 
 
 Cormac said, "I am sure that she has 
 given me her heart. I am sure that she 
 has mine in exchange. With that, all is 
 well, I take it."
 
 THE PLIGHTING 99 
 
 "If you are sure of these things, all is 
 well indeed, " said Dalla. 
 
 Cormac grew hot. 
 
 "It does not become you to doubt me. 
 I tell you again that I have loved her so 
 much that I have slain two men to prove 
 it. I have loved her night and day. I 
 have made good songs, I have been in great 
 heart. Love has made me taller than other 
 men. When I first saw her it seemed to 
 me that she was like the core of light — 
 that strong light enclosed her like a sheath 
 — and that she lay quivering within it like 
 a sword." 
 
 "All this," said his mother, "is very 
 fine," and put Cormac into a rage. 
 
 "Ah, you scoff at my way — as if 
 by a lip curled back you could refute 
 a lover. Well, you must find out for 
 yourself how much I love her. You will 
 have time." 
 
 "I shall find out," Dalla said. But 
 Cormac had gone out of the house.
 
 ioo A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Dalla stretched out her hands to the 
 fire. "I am not contented," she said. 
 
 Thorgils looked troubled. "It was a 
 bad piece of work that he outed Thorveig. 
 I backed him, because I could not do other- 
 wise. But he was wrong. Her ill-condi- 
 tioned boys were dead. He might have 
 
 left her alone. He has never been the same 
 
 if 
 since. 
 
 "Nay," said Dalla, "she would have 
 cast misfortune upon him because he would 
 not pay a ransom." 
 
 "A bad business," said Thorgils, "a bad 
 business. He'll take it hard." 
 
 Said Dalla, "Do you take me to 
 Thorveig. The spell must be moved." 
 
 "Too late," said Thorgils. 
 
 Dalla did her best to hearten him. 
 "Cormac is moody by nature; there may 
 be no spell at all." 
 
 Thorgils said, "I doubt that she has done 
 it. She read it into him. She has the 
 second sight."
 
 THE PLIGHTING 101 
 
 Next day they rode over the hill to 
 Tongue, to ask for Stangerd. Three of them 
 went — Cormac, Thorgils, and Toste the 
 reeve. They took gifts with them — a fine 
 saddle, scarlet cloaks embroidered with gold 
 and blue, and long horns for drinking, with 
 golden covers and chains — treasure of 
 Ogmund the Viking, long laid up for such 
 a use. They found Thorkel sitting in his 
 hall, in his finest clothes, on the dais, 
 surrounded by his men and his friends. 
 He loved things to be ceremonious. 
 Stangerd was not present. 
 
 Cormac asked squarely for her, promising 
 a good price. "I set this sum upon her," 
 he said, "not because it represents her 
 worth, which is to me beyond human prices; 
 but because it is the custom." 
 
 "She is worth a good price," Thorkel 
 said. 
 
 One of the company added: "She is the 
 best-made girl I ever saw." Another said: 
 "Many would be after her if they knew she
 
 102 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 was to be had. Or Thorkel might take her 
 to Norway and find some earl glad to 
 have her." 
 
 Cormac chafed, and looked very black, 
 biting his cheek. 
 
 "The less we say about prices the better," 
 he said. "I have complied with custom, 
 to serve you. But I can't go on with it." 
 
 "All in order, Cormac," Thorkel said. 
 "Law is law, and money is money." 
 
 So the talk ran on in this fashion; and 
 then Thorkel said, "This will want thinking 
 about — a deal of thinking it will want. 
 It seems to me that your offer should be 
 stretched. If my son Toothgnasher were 
 here he would say so — that I know. But 
 he is on the sea, levying war. Should he 
 come home in the spring with a good 
 cargo, that will make us look foolish — to 
 have bargained away his sister to the first 
 comer. Toothgnasher sets great store by 
 Stangerd. We must think of the absent 
 as much as we can."
 
 THE PLIGHTING 103 
 
 Toste said, "Our land is as much as 
 yours, and much of it is better. Your 
 girl will be no loser by coming to Melstead." 
 
 "Nay, it is I will be the loser, it seems," 
 Thorkel said — and his friends took his 
 side. 
 
 Cormac was beside himself with rage. 
 "You shall finish this talk without me," 
 he said. "My brother knows more of such 
 matters than I do. By your leave, I will 
 go and see Stangerd." Whereupon he 
 broke away from the company and went 
 through the door which led to the Bower. 
 She was there at the loom, other girls with 
 her. She looked strangely at him. Her eyes 
 were like blue flowers. 
 
 Cormac went to her and kissed her, 
 not very gently. "Stangerd, they are 
 haggling over you as if you were a heifer. 
 Such things sicken me. You and I know 
 what is to be, and those dealers can never 
 know. Give me your hand.'* 
 
 She did. He put a ring upon her finger.
 
 104 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "That is a token, my love," he said. "Let 
 them do their foulest. I have gone to work 
 in my own fashion. Speak to me now and 
 tell me what I wish to hear." 
 
 She asked him. "What is it that you 
 wish to hear?" 
 
 "Ah!" said Cormac, "if you don't know 
 that by this time, I can hardly tell you 
 before these girls." 
 
 She grew red. "You are angry with me. 
 I don't know why. I thought that a 
 betrothal was otherwise done." 
 
 It is true that he was angry; and if she 
 did not know why, neither could he tell 
 her, for he didn't know himself. While 
 they were standing there, handfasted but 
 yet far apart, one came in to say that the 
 bargain was made, and that Stangerd must 
 come in for the plighting before witnesses. 
 Cormac said that he would bring her in, 
 but was told that could hardly be. He 
 tossed up his head and tapped with his 
 foot; but Stangerd paid no attention to
 
 THE PLIGHTING 105 
 
 him. She signalled to her maids that they 
 should follow her, and went into the hall, 
 leaving Cormac to follow as best he might. 
 He was well called Black Cormac for that 
 day, at any rate. But the thing was done, 
 and there was a feast. He had no songs 
 for them, though.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 
 
 PHE wedding was to be in early spring; 
 as soon as the weather was open, 
 because Cormac would not wait any 
 longer, and there were no signs of Tooth- 
 gnasher's ship. Stangerd did not at all 
 understand why he was in such a hurry, 
 and he could not tell her, though he knew 
 very well why it was. 
 
 He felt that if he was not married very 
 soon he would not be married at all. It 
 was not that he did not love Stangerd, and 
 love her very much, but that he loved her 
 in another way — a way which irritated and 
 confused him and hampered the free 
 
 passage of his mind. He could not enjoy 
 
 1 06
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 107 
 
 the sight of her beauty, or be happy in 
 seeing her do things beautifully, as formerly 
 he had. He loved her now in a greedy 
 and grudging way, which seemed to sap 
 the roots of happiness. He did not like 
 to see her look at another man or even give 
 her mind to anything which was not to 
 do with him. He said to himself, "I 
 think of nothing but her — and why should 
 she be otherwise ? Must all the giving be 
 on my side?" It was not so at all, if he 
 had thought, or been able to think, of it. 
 She loved him with the whole of her being; 
 and what more could she have done ? But 
 there it was. His happiness was destroyed 
 by this love; his song forsook him. His 
 mind was preoccupied: he had no hold 
 on it. He could not think, or see good 
 things, or take pleasure in anything. Stan- 
 gerd filled him up. There were times when 
 he cursed the day on which he saw her; 
 times when he hated her. 
 
 And while he must by all means see her,
 
 108 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 know what she was doing, and prevent 
 her being with other people, he was not 
 happy with her. He was silent and morose. 
 He made her unhappy, and knew that he 
 did. There seemed always a grievance 
 unatoned for, and another forming upon 
 the scar of the old. All this was so unlike 
 himself that he could not help contrasting 
 it with what he had been before disaster 
 fell upon him. In thinking it over, it 
 seemed to him that he had been inconceiv- 
 ably happy before this fell upon him. He 
 seemed to be looking back from a dark place 
 upon himself free and glorious in the light 
 of the sun. That he should count the day 
 of his plighting his day of disaster shows 
 you to what a state he had come. And yet 
 he desired her keenly, and thought day 
 and night of what he should do to her when 
 she was his. 
 
 As for Stangerd, she would have been 
 happy enough if he could have left her alone. 
 It was very pleasant to her to feel his
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 109 
 
 domination when it was plainly exerted 
 by love. His kisses were fierce and furious, 
 but they were sweet if they were dangerous. 
 She had a cool head and a steady heart; 
 she did not love in that sort of way; but 
 she admired those who did, and allowed 
 him what he chose without fear or sense of 
 danger. But when love became something 
 like hate, when kisses turned to biting, 
 she was made unhappy, and came to resent 
 it as an indignity. 
 
 "What have I done ? Why do you treat 
 me like this ?" she would ask him, and 
 he would gloom and scowl. 
 
 "You have shown me what you really 
 are. You have no heart, but in your 
 beautiful bosom you have a dark nest of 
 pride. Pride like a bed of snakes is there 
 — a dozen angry heads with darting tongues. 
 Flat heads with narrow eyes looking all 
 ways to strike. " 
 
 Tears clouded her blue eyes. "You are 
 hateful to say such things. I let you do
 
 no A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 what you choose with mc; you come and 
 go as you will, and I am always here for 
 you. You are free of the house, and free 
 of me — and yet you never have kind looks 
 for it. I don't know what has come over 
 you." 
 
 In her heart of hearts she believed that 
 he had been cursed by the spae-wife; but 
 she dared not hint it for her life. Some 
 such thing had been whispered, and Cormac 
 had flown into a great passion and gone 
 out with his sword in his hand to find the 
 man who had said it. 
 
 So the time wore on, and the ice broke 
 up upon the firth, and the days grew 
 longer, and through the fog you could hear 
 the thunder of the falling snow. Cormac 
 said that the wedding must be soon; and 
 then about the equinox there came a ship 
 from Ireland into the firth, and reported 
 the Toothgnasher's ship as on the way
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING in 
 
 home. Thorkcl said that they must wait 
 for him by all means, and Cormac was left 
 to his mother to deal with. 
 
 She found him difficult. He jibbed at 
 the Toothgnasher, and it seemed to her 
 that he had been anxious all along to get 
 Stangerd away before her brother could be 
 home. 
 
 "But I had sooner be done with them 
 without Toothgnasher," he said to his 
 mother. "I shall have to deal with him 
 later, I don't doubt. No, decidedly I shall 
 not wait for Toothgnasher. Let him ease 
 his hot gums on other men's affairs — not 
 mine." 
 
 "But he is Thorkel's only son; he is 
 Stangerd's only brother," said she. "You 
 are unreasonable." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Cormac, "how do you know 
 I am unreasonable ? I tell you I won't 
 have him there." 
 
 "What has Stangerd to say to this?" 
 She put this to him because she was at her
 
 112 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 wits' end. Cormac gloomed, and jutted out 
 his chin. 
 
 "I have not spoken to her. She knows 
 that I have no liking for Toothgnasher. 
 She will say what I wish her to say." 
 
 But it appeared that here he was wrong. 
 Stangerd wanted her brother to be at the 
 wedding. She begged it of Cormac. She 
 went so far as to kiss him of her own accord 
 — a thing which she very rarely did. He 
 remarked upon it, with bitterness, and 
 stored the memory in his troubled heart. 
 There it remained as a grievance, instead 
 of a happy memory: the grievance was 
 that she had not done it before. But he 
 would not promise. Then Stangerd grew 
 hot and showed her cheek-bones. 
 
 "You treat me very ill. It is the bride's 
 right to fix her wedding-day. You force 
 me to tell you so." 
 
 Cormac turned rather grey in the face. 
 "If force drives you against my wish it 
 is a poor look-out from where we stand
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 113 
 
 now. And I will tell you this, Stangerd. 
 It will take more force than you and 
 your brother and Thorkel have at call to 
 drive me against my will." With that he 
 left her. 
 
 He did not see her again until the day 
 which had formerly been fixed for the 
 wedding. On that day he had expected 
 his mother and Thorgils to ride with him 
 to Tongue as if for the wedding; but they 
 would not go with him. Dalla said that 
 he was acting outrageously, and he knew 
 that he was. But the black fit was upon 
 him. "If you will not come to my wedding," 
 he said, "I shall go alone." 
 
 Go he did, and found Stangerd with her 
 sleeves rolled up, at the well, washing linen. 
 The morning was a fair one, with a fresh 
 wind blowing from the land, and spray 
 from the firth. Cormac had fine clothes 
 on him, with a new scarlet cloak fastened 
 at the shoulder with a golden brooch. 
 
 Two of the girls stood up to look at him;
 
 ii 4 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 but Stangerd bent down to the bulging linen, 
 and pommelled it with a will. 
 
 "Is that your bridal gown you are wetting 
 there ?" said Cormac. 
 
 "The bride's dress is still on the loom," 
 said one of the maids. 
 
 "What day is this?" he cried out. 
 
 "Washing day," said she, "and a good 
 drying day." 
 
 "Ah," said Cormac, "and you will be 
 drying more than linen this day. You will 
 be drying up the sap of a man." 
 
 Stangerd had nothing to say. In a fury 
 he slipped off his horse and went to her. 
 He stood over her with threatening eyes. 
 
 "Is this how you greet your husband? 
 Is this how our wedding is to be?' 
 
 She did not flinch, but gave him a steady 
 look upwards from where she knelt below 
 him. 
 
 "It will not be so when the day comes 
 — not so on my part," she said. 
 
 "However it be, it will be you who have
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 115 
 
 made it as it will be," he told her. She 
 said no more. 
 
 One of the girls said, "Toothgnasher is 
 off the islands. He will be here soon.'* 
 
 "The trolls take Toothgnasher," said 
 Cormac, and mounted, and rode home. 
 
 In the mood he was in now, nothing 
 could be done with him at home. 
 Thorgils, his brother, was a peacefully- 
 disposed man who never said very much. 
 His mother had learned the limits of her 
 tether and did not pull against a rope and 
 an iron peg. Both of them thought him 
 in the wrong; but Thorgils was sure that 
 the spae-wife had done all the mischief. 
 What Dalla may have thought about that, 
 she kept to herself, for she knew how furious 
 Cormac would have been. He took to the 
 fells in these days and was seldom seen. 
 Nobody knew what he did there. Stangerd 
 never saw him, and felt herself aggrieved. 
 
 At the beginning of the summer, Tooth- 
 gnasher brought his ship into the firth and
 
 u6 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 laid her up. He was a tall, high-coloured 
 man, with a fine flaxen beard on his lip. 
 He had dark blue eyes like Stangerd's: 
 they were a fine couple. Thorkel made much 
 of him, and very soon gave him his 
 bearings. 
 
 He stared when he heard the state of 
 the case. "Why, what possesses the man? 
 Is it witchcraft ?" 
 
 "Some fiend has him. There is no doing 
 anything with him," Thorkel said. 
 
 "There is one thing to do with him," 
 said Toothgnasher. "You had better let 
 me go and talk with him." 
 
 Thorkel shook his head. "Stangerd 
 would not like that." 
 
 "Well," said Toothgnasher, "and do you 
 think she likes the thing as it stands?" 
 
 But Thorkel's advice prevailed, that 
 Cormac should be summoned to the 
 marriage. This was done. Word was 
 brought by Narve, who saw Thorgils. 
 
 Thorgils said he would give Cormac the
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 117 
 
 message, but that he was from home just 
 now. "And I think he is up in the fells," 
 he said. 
 
 "And what will he be doing there at this 
 season ?" Narve asked. 
 
 "Amusing himself," said Thorgils, "with 
 trapping and such-like." 
 
 "He will find few things there so hard 
 to trap as we find at home," Narve said. 
 
 At Tongue the opinion was that he would 
 come; but that was not Stangerd's opinion. 
 She kept her thoughts very private, and 
 would not talk to her maids. Her heart 
 was sore at the slight put upon her for no 
 fault of her own, and as well as that she 
 had the memory of Cormac in his days of 
 eager wooing. They had been sweet, and 
 the sweeter they the bitterer her present 
 dule. But she did not cry, for that was 
 not her way when she was sad, but only 
 when she was offended. At this time she 
 was more sad than offended. And she 
 hoped up to the very last that the cloud
 
 u8 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 would lift from her sky before it was too 
 late. She was not yet offended; but she 
 was a proud girl, and knew that she could 
 never forgive him if he failed her. 
 
 And so the time wore on to the day of 
 the wedding, when she was dressed in fine 
 clothes, and wore a gold crown on her head. 
 She sat still and flushed with clenched 
 hands, on the dais with her maids; her 
 kinsfolk and acquaintances sat at the 
 tables; but none came from Melstead. 
 
 They sat there, saying at first little, and 
 then nothing for an hour or more. Presently 
 Narve, who was always hopping to the 
 door and back, cried out, "I see a man 
 riding this way." 
 
 No one spoke. Stangerd's heart was a 
 stone. 
 
 He said again, "I know him. It is 
 Thorgils, Cormac's brother. And he comes 
 alone." 
 
 Thorgils came into the hall and saluted 
 the company. Thorkel bade him welcome.
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 119 
 
 Then he said, "We looked to see more 
 of you from Melstead, but you come alone. 
 What are we to make of it?" 
 
 Thorgils was very much troubled. "I 
 can only tell you what I know myself. The 
 summons was given to Cormac on the day 
 it was delivered to me. I bade him to the 
 marriage, and he said he would remember 
 it and do what was right. After that he 
 went away, and I have not seen him since. 
 What's more, I can't tell where he is. He 
 may be on the sea for all I know." 
 
 There was silence for some time. Then 
 Stangerd went away, with her maids 
 following her. She could not now hide 
 her tears, and they came freely, and 
 burning hot. 
 
 When she was gone, Thorkel said, "This 
 is a great affront put upon me by your 
 brother, and I am not to pass over it. He 
 sought the girl, and I agreed to it, as you 
 know, though not willingly, for I never 
 fancied the match. Then he began to behave
 
 120 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 strangely, and it has gone on from bad to 
 worse. You tell me you have nothing more 
 to say — and now I tell you that I also 
 have come to an end of speaking." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Toothgnasher. "It 
 is not a case for talk; but Cormac and I 
 shall have other things to do than talk to 
 each other." 
 
 Thorgils said, "That will be as it must 
 be. It is likely that there will be more to 
 come. I can only say that we are con- 
 cerned for Cormac. He is not himself in 
 this. His life has been crossed. There is 
 a spell upon him. But you have nothing 
 to do with that, and I can't ask you even 
 to believe it. But do not think that Cormac 
 is pleasing himself in this affair. He is 
 of all men the most unhappy. But Fate 
 rules us all." 
 
 They stared or gloomed at him according 
 as their natures moved them. It was plain 
 there was nothing more to be said to Thorgils, 
 who presently saluted the company and took
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 121 
 
 himself off. Toothgnasher went into the 
 Bower to see Stangerd. 
 
 She had stopped her tears, but her eyes 
 were very red; and she was tired, without 
 heart to speak much about it. When, 
 however, Toothgnasher began to talk about 
 the affront, she broke out afresh, "Oh, 
 he is cruel, he is cruel to use me so!" 
 
 "He is tired of you, sweetheart," her 
 brother said; but she would not have it so. 
 
 "No, no, no! That is not so. He loves 
 me — he loves me too much. But he is 
 proud, and he makes me feel his pride. I 
 know very well how it is. He is the most 
 wretched of men just now. He wants me 
 sorely, but will not come. He knows that 
 I could soothe him — and so I could — but he 
 will not allow it." 
 
 "By Heaven and Earth," said Tooth- 
 gnasher, "I have the means to humble that 
 pride of his." 
 
 She put hands upon him. "Brother,' 
 she said, "you shall not touch him — or if you
 
 122 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 do you will have seen the last of me. It 
 is the way of men to think that they can 
 assuage every grief by slashing at each 
 other. They do nothing but comfort to 
 themselves." 
 
 "It is the business of kinsfolk to avenge 
 each other, however you take it," said 
 Toothgnasher. 
 
 "And what comfort is it to me if you 
 slay the man I love or if he slay you ?" 
 she asked him, and then she asked herself, 
 "Is there any fool in the world the equal 
 
 of a man ?" 
 
 ***** 
 
 As for Cormac, he did not appear at 
 Melstead for two days more. Then he came 
 in haggard and unwashen, and would do 
 nothing but sit and gaze about him, taking 
 quick and short breath. Nobody knew 
 where he had been. He was splashed all 
 up his legs with brown — so he had been 
 in the peat hags, they judged. He said 
 nothing about Stangerd, but sat about the
 
 THE DAY OF THE WEDDING 123 
 
 house for two or three days without speaking 
 at all. After that he seemed to have 
 gathered strength, for he collected himself 
 and did some work in the meadows. He 
 seemed to have forgotten Stangerd altogether, 
 — but he had not, as it turned out. 
 
 Now as to this curious business there is 
 plenty to say, and every man will put his 
 own interpretation upon it, and every 
 woman also. There must be few women 
 who will not have experience within them 
 to bring to the reading. A poet (not 
 Cormac) has reasoned it out, but we need 
 not bring in any more poets to the argu- 
 ment — at present. On the showing of this 
 instructed man the day of misfortune was 
 the day when Cormac kissed Stangerd first. 
 There may be much truth in this.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 BERSE COMES IN 
 
 YX7"HETHER or no Cormac had got the 
 better of his love-affair — and nobody 
 knew but himself — it had made a great 
 to-do at Tongue. But the people there 
 did not see how to set about avenging 
 the slight put upon them, since Stangerd 
 would not hear of fighting, or have Cormac 
 challenged for atonement. It was judged 
 finally, after much talk, that they must 
 get her married, lest the countryside should 
 think that she had lost her only chance — 
 which was nonsense, seeing what a splendid 
 girl she was, and how much counted. 
 
 So they brought up the name of this man 
 
 and that man, but could not decide upon 
 
 124
 
 BERSE COMES IN 125 
 
 any one man, until Narve, always ready 
 with the tongue, lit upon Berse of Sowerby. 
 "Now there's a man," he said, "of all 
 men in the world the most proper. A 
 powerful man, a very pleasant, affable, 
 middle-aged man, a man of wealth, and a 
 man of his hands. Bring him into your 
 quarrel, and the thing is done. Your young 
 fire-eater will have little to say to him, you 
 may be sure." 
 
 That was true. The man was a notable 
 champion. They called him Battle-Berse, 
 Holmgang Berse, and Wager-of-Battle Berse 
 — which all mean the same thing; for the 
 Holmgang is to go to the holm for the fight's 
 sake; and in the wager-of-battle you back 
 your quarrel with another man's blood. In 
 that way Berse had backed his no less than 
 thirty times, and had never lost it. Besides 
 that, he had I don't know how many 
 homicides to his account. It has been said 
 before that he had had about enough of 
 it, and was for peace and plenty in these
 
 126 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 days. He was a widower, survivor of a 
 fine woman called Finna the Fair; he was 
 rich, and he was getting fat — not unwieldy, 
 you understand, but comfortably fat. But 
 still, not a doubt about it, he would give 
 a good account of himself upon the field 
 when he was called there. 
 
 He was the man, let me remind the reader, 
 who had given harbourage to Thorveig the 
 spae-wife after the killing of her sons. 
 He gave her the ferry-house at Berse- 
 stead, where you cross over to go into 
 Sowerby. 
 
 Well, they talked him over at Tongue, 
 with other men, and none was found so 
 suitable; so presently, without a word to 
 Stangerd, Toothgnasher, Narve and one or 
 two others went over to his country and 
 found him at home. As well as himself 
 there were his sister Hilda in the house, a 
 personable, active woman, a pretty girl, 
 very fond of Berse, called Stanvor Slimlegs, 
 and his young son Osmund — a boy of ten
 
 BERSE COMES IN 127 
 
 years old or so. He was very glad to see 
 them, and made them a good entertainment. 
 They talked in the evenings of this, that, 
 and the other. To get Berse upon his 
 fighting days was to get him at his best; 
 and it appeared that he was still a roaring 
 boy for all his grizzled beard and dewlap. 
 There was the girl Stanvor, for example, 
 as pretty a girl as ever you saw, with legs 
 which certainly deserved to be famous — 
 as they were. Now that girl was daughter 
 to a man called Ord who lived, not at 
 Tongue on Midfirth, but at Tongue in Bitra. 
 He was a fisherman with many men in his 
 employ, and in a quarrel which arose over 
 the merits of men in those parts, this Ord 
 maintained that Berse of Sowerby, Battle- 
 Berse, was the bigger man as against one 
 Thorarin of Gutdale. The story came to 
 Thorarin's ears — an ill-conditioned, strong 
 man — who one fine day came down to 
 Tongue in Bitra when no men were about, 
 and picked up Stanvor out of the garth
 
 128 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 and carried her off with him. Ord in his 
 trouble went to Battle-Berse, saying, "This 
 blow was struck at me because I spoke well 
 of you. I look to you now, Berse, to wipe 
 out my shame." Berse said that he wanted 
 no man's good word, but would do what 
 he could. He armed himself with sword 
 and three spears, and rode down the valley 
 and over the ridge and down again into 
 Gutdale. He got there late, when the men 
 were come in from the fields and the women 
 setting the tables. He saw Stanvor at 
 the back door and beckoned to her. She 
 ran up and told him her troubles. Berse 
 got off his horse, and took her by the hand. 
 "Hold the horse," he said, "and these spears, 
 and wait for me here." "Oh, where are you 
 for?" she said, and he told her. It was 
 a pity to come so far for such a little thing 
 as she was — and "I'm going to see who's 
 at home." She said, "The men are all 
 in there at the fires." "I know that," 
 says Berse, and goes up and bangs at the
 
 BERSE COMES IN 129 
 
 door with his fist. A man came out. "Go 
 and tell Thorarin that Berse wants to see 
 him," he was told. Presently out comes 
 Thorarin with a bill in his hand and makes 
 a slash at Berse with it. Berse had his 
 famous sword Whiting ready for him, and 
 gave him a cut through the neck into the 
 shoulder, which was his death-blow. Then 
 he went back to his horse, mounted, pulled 
 up Stanvor, put her before him, and galloped 
 down the road to a wood. Deep in the wood 
 he left Stanvor with the horse, but he himself 
 went back to the skirts of it to wait for 
 the hue-and-cry. Thorarin had three sons, 
 who came out after Berse, expecting to 
 trap him further on as he entered the pass 
 into the hills. It proved otherwise, for it 
 was Berse who trapped the trappers. He 
 had three spears to Thorarin's three sons, 
 and he threw each of them, and with each 
 brought his man down. The rest of the 
 outcry ran back to the house. Berse lay 
 the three bodies out side by side, and his
 
 i 3 o A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 cloak across them to show who had done 
 the business, and then went back to the 
 horse and the girl. He took Stanvor home 
 with him to his walled house in the hills; 
 and she would not leave him, and never 
 did. That was the kind of man Battle- 
 Berse was; and always very good-tempered 
 over it, a most agreeable man, as Narve 
 had said. 
 
 He told this tale now to his guests, sit- 
 ting in his elbow-chair with his arm round 
 Stanvor herself, she leaning against the elbow 
 with her head on one side, and eyes cast 
 down. When it came to the point where 
 Berse said that she would not leave him 
 and never did, she looked at him gravely, 
 with a little half-smile, very pretty to see. 
 Berse gave her a squeeze and said: "Hey, 
 sweetheart, is that true?" 
 
 Stanvor nodded her head, still smiling, 
 and said, "I shan't leave you till you 
 tell me to go." 
 
 You couldn't help liking the man.
 
 BERSE COMES IN 131 
 
 Many such stories Berse had to tell, but 
 it was not for such things they had come 
 out. The talk flew about from men's 
 courage to women's looks; and presently 
 Narve spoke of Stangerd as the fairest of 
 women, and Berse did not deny it. 
 
 "There's a pretty girl here," he said, 
 "and a dainty girl, very fond of me; but 
 I know that Stangerd's beauty is like a corn- 
 field in bearing to a poor man's patch of 
 rye-grass compared to little Stanvor's." 
 
 "You heard, most likely," Narve said, 
 "of the way she was treated by Cormac 
 Ogmundsson of Melstead ? A great shame." 
 
 Berse twinkled and set his thumbs twirling 
 like the sails of a mill. "I heard something 
 of it," he said; "and a fine young man, 
 too, by all accounts." 
 
 "Too fine," says Narve; and then 
 Toothgnasher said, "Not fine enough." 
 
 Berse nodded very comfortably. "These 
 young men go about on the tips of their 
 toes, asking you to stand out of their way
 
 1 32 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 lest by chance they should walk into you. 
 Not but what the match was a good one. 
 I've been told something of Cormac's 
 handiness with weapons." 
 
 Narve snapped his fingers. "What are 
 his hands or his weapons to you, Berse ?" 
 
 Berse smiled. "Well, to me, maybe, they 
 are less than to yourself, my friend." 
 
 "And the match is clean off, mind you," 
 Narve went on. "They say, indeed, that 
 he's out of the country, and like enough 
 gone Viking like his father before him." 
 
 Berse said no more at the time, but he 
 turned it over. He knew Thorkel was rich, 
 he knew Stangerd was very handsome. He 
 liked good-looking girls, and he liked riches. 
 When Toothgnasher was getting ready to 
 go home, Berse said he thought he would 
 go down with him. And so he did. 
 
 Before he started Stanvor came to him. 
 "Where are you going, master?" she asked 
 him. 
 
 He twinkled all over his face, and looking
 
 BERSE COMES IN 133 
 
 quizzically at her, pinched her cheek. "I 
 am going down to the frith," he said, "to 
 see a fine girl, and like enough that is what 
 I shall do with her when I get on terms." 
 
 She stood flushed and serious before him. 
 "It is like enough, indeed," she said, "and 
 you may do what you will with her for me. 
 But I know that she will not love you as 
 I do." 
 
 Berse put his heavy hand on her shoulder. 
 "I think that's true. But what if I bring 
 her back to Sowerby ? What will you say 
 then, pretty one ? By all accounts she's 
 big enough to eat you up and want more." 
 
 She bore his glance. "There will still 
 be room here for me," she said. "I shall 
 do no harm to anybody." 
 
 "No, indeed," said Berse. "But you'll 
 bring happiness wherever you are." With 
 that he kissed her. 
 
 She saw him away, and stood in the rain 
 looking after him until he was swallowed 
 up in it. Then she went back into the house
 
 134 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 and was busy. She was a slightly-made, 
 graceful girl, with a pale, round face, and 
 large, blue-grey eyes. She had brown hair 
 which rippled like running water and curled 
 at the ends. She looked delicate, but was 
 extremely strong. She never had much to 
 say to anyone but Berse; but with him she 
 would talk freely.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 
 
 T3ERSE, with all his experience to back 
 him, admired Stangerd very much. 
 She was a big girl, with a strong throat 
 and deep chest; she had not much to say, 
 but was not at all shy. These qualities 
 pleased him; but he thought her golden 
 hair and hot colouring splendid, and would 
 certainly marry her if he could come to 
 terms with her father. When she came 
 to serve him with mead in the hall, he took 
 her hand and looked up at her. 
 
 "I wonder that a girl like you should 
 remain at home, Stangerd," he said. 
 
 She blushed. "That may not be my 
 fault, sir." 
 
 135
 
 136 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "No, no," said Berse, "but it will be a 
 strange fault in the fine young men I see 
 hereabouts if they leave you alone. I shall 
 look to see you in the golden wreath before 
 many days." 
 
 "That is as my father pleases, sir," 
 said she. 
 
 That was about all he said to her, but 
 he kept his eyes upon her most of the 
 evening, and when she had gone to bed 
 he talked to Thorkel about her, and asked 
 what he would give with her. 
 
 Thorkel, who had small eyes, shifted 
 them about Berse without meeting his, and 
 said that he didn't rightly know, but he 
 supposed that a girl like his was worth a 
 goodish deal in herself. He had been 
 thinking it over, and had no doubt 
 Berse would have done the same. He 
 would like to know what Berse thought 
 about it. 
 
 Berse said that there had been some talk 
 about her lately in respect of Cormac
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 137 
 
 Ogmundsson. "And no man cares for that," 
 he said. 
 
 Thorkel said there was nothing in it, 
 and Berse said, "Perhaps not." But he heard 
 that Cormac was a bold man with his hands. 
 Then he said: "I will tell you this, Thorkel, 
 that I will take your quarrel upon me, and 
 quit you of any mischiefs with Cormac 
 and his friends. But you must deal fairly 
 in the matter of dowry," he said. 
 
 So they haggled over it till far into the 
 night, and came to terms, one of which 
 was that the wedding should be done 
 quickly, and another that Stangerd was 
 not to be told anything about it until just 
 before. Berse boggled at that. "You cut 
 me out of my respectable pleasures," he 
 said. "It is very pleasant to court a girl. 
 It is very pleasant to see her deal with a 
 matter so momentous to her. Can anything 
 in her life touch her so nearly?" 
 
 But Thorkel knew better than to listen 
 to him. "You may be sure that my counsel
 
 138 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 is wise," he said. "Stangerd is a good 
 girl if ever there was one, but her heart 
 was very much set upon Cormac, who lives 
 just over the hill. Who can say what she 
 might not contrive ? Do you wish for 
 bloodshedding upon your marriage-day?" 
 
 "Well," said Berse, "I am not sure — 
 but have it as you will." 
 
 Next day he went home, but not before 
 he had talked with Stangerd. "We shall 
 meet again, Stangerd," he said to her. 
 "I hope that you and I may be good 
 friends." 
 
 "It takes two to make a friendship," 
 said Stangerd. 
 
 Berse said, "You are right. But one 
 may begin, and the other catch the 
 complaint. Now I am a man very prone 
 to friendships. How is it with you?" 
 
 She thought that she was slow to make 
 friends — and slow to lose them. 
 
 Berse said that he was pleased to hear 
 that, and would have given her a kiss; but
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 139 
 
 she wouldn't allow that, and told him that 
 
 she didn't like kissing. He took the rebuff 
 
 with good humour, and soon afterwards 
 
 rode away. 
 
 Whatever Stangerd may have thought 
 
 about Berse and his behaviour, nothing was 
 
 said to her, and she did nothing towards 
 
 seeing Cormac. But it is certain that he 
 
 was seldom out of her head. She was still 
 
 deeply offended, and would have shown 
 
 him that she was, very plainly, if he had 
 
 come to see her. But at the bottom of 
 
 her heart she had a warm conviction of his 
 
 love, and of her own. Her nature was 
 
 slow to move, but she had spoken the truth 
 
 when she told Berse that she was steadfast. 
 ♦ * * # * 
 
 Berse made his preparations quickly, and 
 was ready to go back to Tongue in eight 
 days. He set out with a party of some 
 fifteen men — good men all, and well armed. 
 Thord Arndisson of Mull was one of them, 
 and Wige was another. Wige was a man
 
 140 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 who had dealings with unseen powers, and 
 was said to be mighty in the dark. Some 
 people deemed that he was a werwolf. Berse 
 would not have gone without him on any 
 account; and before he went he told 
 him that Cormac might give trouble. Wige 
 thought that he could cope with Cormac. 
 
 "Why, yes," said Berse, "and so can I; 
 but Thorkel, look you, is a rare coward, 
 and although I have sworn to take the 
 venture on myself, yet he can't rest in his 
 bed for thinking of what they may do at 
 Melstead. Now I want to keep this quiet 
 until it's all over, and she is mine. Then 
 Cormac may do what he will, for then he 
 will work in Sowerby, and not there." 
 
 Wige said, "Enough, I'll see to it." 
 
 $ * * ■% * 
 
 They got to Tongue towards evening, 
 and then Stangerd was told what was about 
 to befall her. Berse told her himself. 
 
 She showed flame-red, and gave him a stare 
 for answer. Her eyes were like the flower of flax.
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 141 
 
 "Was this in your mind a week ago," 
 she said, "when you spoke to me of your 
 friendship ?" 
 
 "Yes, it was," said Berse. 
 
 "You use a strange way," said she, "to 
 win my friendship. I will tell you this, 
 that it is not to be captured by a trick, as 
 you take a hare, nor by a spear. Use that 
 with a salmon, but not with a girl." 
 
 Berse looked rather foolish. He had not 
 thought the thing out properly. "Well," 
 he said, "you shan't repent it. I'll use 
 you well. You will be mistress of a good 
 house — and you will have no bad looks 
 from me." 
 
 Stangerd turned away her face, not 
 choosing that he should see her tears. 
 She was taking this badly, but her mind 
 was full of shifts and schemes how she could 
 let Cormac know what was being done with 
 her. Berse had hold of her hand by this 
 time, and was trying to coax her. 
 
 "Look now, Stangerd," he said, "it is
 
 142 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 not very pleasant for you here these days. 
 The neighbourhood will talk about a girl 
 that has been jilted on her wedding-day, 
 and your father don't like that, nor your 
 brother either. It is putting a slight upon 
 the house, don't you see ? Now, I'm a man 
 well known in my own country for a ready 
 hand, and there won't be things said about 
 me which you or I won't care to hear. At 
 least, they won't be said twice. Do your 
 best to make a friend of me, and remember 
 that a girl has to let her father be the judge 
 of what's to be done with her. I am older 
 than you are — that's certain — but see what 
 experience I've had. Now my first wife 
 was a woman called Finna, of great family 
 and riches; and she was a beauty, too. 
 They called her Finna the Fair. I don't 
 say that she was your match in that 
 respect — but she was very well indeed, I 
 can assure you. Now that woman got to be 
 very fond of me before she died. She used 
 to say there was no one like me for wheedling.
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 143 
 
 Now you give me a fair field, and you shall 
 see. I know what can be said for that 
 Cormac of yours — a fine, bold way with him, 
 I don't doubt, and when the mood was on 
 him I can understand that no girl could 
 resist him. But what about his black 
 moods, my dear? How did you find him 
 then ? Scowling, glooming; not a word 
 to say for himself. That don't make for a 
 happy homestead — no, no ! Now there's 
 this to say for old Battle-Berse, that in peace 
 or war no man has ever seen him out of 
 temper. Still less any woman. Always 
 ready with his crooked smile and lifted eye- 
 brow — full of his quips and crankums — 
 always ready to kiss and cuddle; with a 
 knee would seat half a dozen of you at 
 once — and all yours, Stangerd, when you 
 want it. Try me, my dear, — and if you 
 want Cormac after a year in Sowerby, why, 
 you shall have him, for me. That's a queer 
 way of wooing a wife, but it's Berse's way, and 
 not a bad one. Now, what do you say?"
 
 H4 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He was an insinuating man. His arm 
 was round her waist by now, and before she 
 lifted her head up his good-natured face 
 was close to hers; and when she did look 
 at him, he kissed her. 
 
 It was too late to be angry; but of course 
 she didn't like it. "If it must be," she 
 said, "it must be; but spare me your 
 kisses." 
 
 "No, no," he said. "They are part of the 
 bargain." 
 
 "They are not, then," said she, "until 
 the bargain's done" — and she went away. 
 
 The hall was very full that night, and 
 she had to serve them all; but she was 
 desperate to find a way of reaching Cormac. 
 Presently there is a call for more drink, and 
 she sends Narve out to fill the pitchers, and 
 goes out to meet him half-way. 
 
 She has a moment with him alone. She 
 takes him by both shoulders and stares at 
 him. He puts down his pitchers and gapes 
 into her face.
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 145 
 
 "Oh, Narve, Narve, help me if you can," 
 she says. 
 
 "That I will," he says. 
 
 She looks about her fearfully. "Tell 
 Cormac — let him know to-night; to-morrow 
 will be too late," she says. He sees that 
 she is shaking all over, and staring about 
 as if she didn't know what she was doing. 
 
 "I'll go to him," says Narve. "I'll go 
 to him to-night — after they are abed." 
 
 She is swaying about. "Ah," she says, 
 "catch me — I'm going to fall down!" 
 
 She falls into his arms. He picks her 
 up and takes her out of doors, and into the 
 Bower by the women's door. Then he goes 
 back and picks up his pitchers. 
 
 In the hall he tells a maid to go and look 
 after her. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was late before they were all got to 
 bed. Some of them were very drunk. 
 Toothgnasher had to be carried. Berse 
 had all his wits about him, and Wige the
 
 146 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 wolf-man had more than ever he had in 
 the day. Narve gave them an hour to get 
 sound asleep and then slipped down the 
 hall and unfastened the door without noise. 
 
 It was broad moonlight, and a river of 
 black shade ran before every wall; but he 
 was well over them all, and had forded the 
 river before he knew he was being followed. 
 He only knew it, indeed, by something 
 which is beside sense; for when he looked 
 back he couldn't see a sign of a man. But 
 he ran like a hare, did Narve, and was up 
 the shoulder of the hill and speeding down 
 the path through a little pine wood, when 
 all of a sudden he felt a hand on his 
 shoulder, and his heart jumped burning 
 into his throat. 
 
 His knees failed, and down he sank upon 
 them. By his side, right over him as he 
 found, was Wige, all silver-grey in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 "Oh! Mercy! What do you want with 
 me ?" he said.
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 147 
 
 Wige said nothing, but stood still above 
 him with hollow, sightless eye-sockets. He 
 was a very tall, thin man. 
 
 Narve's teeth were clattering together: 
 it was a cold night. Suddenly Wige stretched 
 out a long arm, pointing the way back to 
 Tongue. Narve got upon his feet, and, 
 watching the arm, began to edge along 
 the way he was intended to go. He walked 
 sideways that he might keep an eye upon 
 the apparition; through the wood and up 
 the wood he went, and got into the open. 
 In the broad moonlight Wige looked shining 
 like metal. Narve took to his heels and 
 ran home as fast as he had come out, and 
 Wige fleeted behind him with long, noise- 
 less strides. 
 
 In the morning it was Narve's business 
 to get out and see to the cattle in the byre. 
 He was to drive them afield, and so he did. 
 There was not a soul in sight, but a light 
 mist covered the ground so that you could 
 not see very far. He thought the chance a
 
 148 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 good one to steal over the hills to Melstead, 
 and took it. He made his way through 
 brushwood and rocks, and was half-way up 
 the fell when out of the mist there loomed 
 before him a shape, tall and shadowy. The 
 terrors of the night came back to him, but 
 something else also; for Wige fell upon him 
 with a ragged staff, and beat him about the 
 shoulders and back. Again nothing was 
 said, and again nothing was done towards 
 the help of Stangerd. Narve saw her when 
 he got home again, at the door of the Bower, 
 with her hair all over her shoulders. It had 
 been washed for the wedding, and she was 
 drying it in the sun. He caught her eyes, 
 and shook his head sadly. She turned away 
 her face. 
 
 jje % # * ♦ 
 
 But by noon she had recovered her com- 
 posure, and, looking extremely handsome, 
 she went through the ceremonies which 
 married her to Battle-Berse. She made no 
 difficulties and gave no trouble, but when
 
 STANGERD'S WEDDING 149 
 
 it came to handfasting, Thorkel her father 
 saw the ring on her finger which Cormac 
 had put there, and told her to take it 
 off. That she refused. "Never," she said. 
 "That stays where it is." Toothgnasher 
 grew rather rough. "We'll soon see about 
 that!" he said; but Berse stopped him. 
 "Leave my wife alone," he said. "The 
 ring suits her very well — and she shall have 
 plenty more for the other fingers when she 
 wants them." 
 
 She was wedded by the afternoon, and 
 the feast began and lasted all night, as the 
 custom is. On the morning after the Sowerby 
 people set off home. They rode by the 
 shore, and they rode quietly, so that few 
 should know what was going on. There 
 was to be a boat ready for them on Ramfirth, 
 by the landing of Thorveig the spae-wife. 
 They would reach it by noon. 
 
 Directly they were well on their road, 
 Narve started off to run to Melstead.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CHASE 
 
 TN those days Cormac went about the 
 work of the place; but he was a 
 changed man. He was fallen very silent, 
 and grown thin and grim-looking. You 
 never heard his voice singing about the 
 acres or up the hill-side. He did not 
 care to swim or to fish. He never spoke 
 about Stangerd, but neither Thorgils nor his 
 mother supposed that she was out of his 
 mind. And she never was, not for a few 
 moments together; but yet he did not go 
 near her, or even over the hills which would 
 lead him into the dale where Tongue was. 
 From the top of the ridge you could see 
 
 Tongue lying snug in sycamore-trees with 
 
 150
 
 CHASE 151 
 
 its fields orderly about it; but Cormac 
 would never go there now. He could not 
 have told you why that was; but he felt 
 that he could not. 
 
 Sometimes he reasoned with himself 
 about it — especially when he felt a great 
 hunger for the sight of her, when his eyes 
 ached for her. Then he thought — "No, I 
 cannot go, for I might see her. Then it 
 might begin all over again, and end as 
 vainly — and I cannot go on like that." He 
 told himself it was certainly true that 
 Stangerd was too beautiful for a man to 
 marry; for what could any man do or enjoy 
 which would be worthy of so high a possession ? 
 Lie in her bosom, mingle with her in love — 
 but what were such things to compare with 
 the thought of her, which was like the wildest 
 music, to the knowledge of her, which made 
 the heart beat and the eyes grow dim ? 
 The things which a man could do with the 
 woman he loved were good enough to do 
 with common women — the pleasure of love,
 
 152 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the getting of children: that was the end 
 of common desire, and filled it. But with 
 Stangerd, who made you faint at the wonder 
 of her — with Stangerd, whose touch made 
 you tremble — such things could not be, for 
 they would tarnish the splendour of her, 
 and serve you little. It is better to think 
 of kissing Stangerd than to kiss her; it is 
 better to dream of her bosom than to lie 
 in it; for kisses cloy, but the mind of a 
 man endures. With such false reasoning he 
 had to be content, for he could not bring 
 himself to go to her. Not once did it enter 
 his head that he was doing her a wrong. 
 It never occurred to him that she had given 
 him her heart before she gave him her 
 hand; that she was in great want of him 
 as well as wounded in her self-esteem. He 
 could not think of such things because he 
 could never have believed that she loved him. 
 He put her above mankind or womankind. 
 He said, She is a Spirit who may be loved, 
 but cannot love. Had he loved her less,
 
 CHASE 153 
 
 he would have had more joy of her, and 
 she of him. That's the truth of it. 
 ***** 
 
 Now that morning he was at work below 
 the house, and Thorgils with him, and some 
 others. They were building a wall of 
 turves. Thorgils was piling the turves, and 
 Cormac was beating them in with a mallet. 
 They both looked up when they heard steps 
 on the fell, and watched the man coming 
 over the stepping-stones of the river. Then 
 Cormac turned to his work, and worked hard. 
 
 Thorgils said, "I think it is Narve from 
 Tongue." Cormac said nothing to that. 
 All except himself were watching the man. 
 Thorgils said again, "He has weapons, 
 and carries a shield. What can he be 
 about ?" 
 
 Toste said, "He looks back. His weapons 
 are for somebody behind him. What is 
 the matter with him?" 
 
 Thorgils said, "He is coming here. We 
 shall know pretty soon."
 
 154 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Cormac took no notice, but went on 
 working at his wall. 
 
 Then Narve came up, stepping warily, 
 with his eyes every way at once, as if every 
 wall-end or tussock of rushes might hold 
 an ambush. 
 
 "How now, Narve?" Toste called out 
 to him. "What do you fear, man? And 
 whom are you after, with your war-gear ? " 
 
 Narve puffed out his cheeks, staring about 
 him. "Pheugh!" he said. "There's need 
 of war-gear in these days — and in the nights 
 it's worse still. When silver-grey men rise 
 up suddenly in thickets, and chase you 
 on silent feet " 
 
 "What news, Narve?" said Thorgils, 
 who wanted to know it. "What news do 
 you bring from Tongue?" 
 
 "I'm late with my news," said Narve; 
 "but I came as soon as I could. We were 
 busy last night." 
 
 Were you so?" Thorgils asked him. 
 Had you guests with you ?" 
 
 ft
 
 CHASE 155 
 
 "Guests," said Narve. "Ah, we had 
 guests. One was a werwolf." 
 
 Cormac at this point straightened himself. 
 "Who were your guests?" he asked. 
 
 Narve said: "There was Battle-Berse 
 from Sowerby, and seventeen with him — 
 of whom one was just what I told your 
 brother." 
 
 But Cormac held him with his eye, and 
 would not leave him. "And what was 
 Battle-Berse doing at Tongue?" 
 
 "He was sitting at his wedding," said 
 Narve. 
 
 Everybody was now very still. 
 
 "And who was the bride?" Cormac 
 asked that in a quiet way. 
 
 "The bride was Stangerd, Thorkel's 
 daughter," Narve said. 
 
 Silence was upon all, and Cormac looked 
 slowly about him, from face to face. He 
 was grey and pinched, but as he looked 
 about, and saw in every man's face what 
 could not be hid, rage gathered in him.
 
 156 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He rolled his eyes about, and suddenly 
 whirled his mallet round his head and struck 
 with all his might at Narve. Narve gave 
 a loud cry, and put up his shield. That 
 may have saved his life, but he fell back 
 with a clatter, and lay still, just as if he 
 was dead. 
 
 Thorgils said: "That was a shame, 
 brother. The marriage was not of his 
 making." 
 
 "Bah!" said Cormac. "He croaks like 
 a raven. Let him lie!" 
 
 But Thorgils fetched water from a spring 
 and brought the man round. Narve sat up 
 and held his head. 
 
 "That was too bad," he said. "I did 
 my best to come here yesterday — and this 
 is how you serve me." 
 
 Thorgils asked him then, "Was this 
 marriage done to Stangerd against her 
 will?" 
 
 Narve said, "It was then. She was in 
 a sad way about it, fluttering and holding
 
 CHASE 157 
 
 her heart. She got me aside and begged 
 me to run to fetch Cormac; and so I set 
 out to do, in the middle of the night; but 
 Wige the wolf-man rose up silvery in the 
 wood and scared me back. And yet again 
 before sunrise I started to come over the 
 hill — and there in the mist was Wige, a 
 terrible man." 
 
 Thorgils looked at Cormac, who was 
 leaning on his wall but listening. 
 
 Narve went on complaining: "It is very 
 well for Cormac to play the lord of lands, 
 and choose his time to have women come 
 to him. A fine girl like that ! And so to 
 treat a man that runs, at peril of his life, 
 to tell him bad news ! He will find old 
 Berse of another mettle, I'm thinking, and 
 then maybe he'll look over his shoulder 
 for help and backing, and wish he had 
 served me differently." 
 
 Thorgils wanted to know about the 
 marriage-bargain, and Narve told him what 
 he knew. The risk was all to be Berse's.
 
 158 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He had promised to keep harmless Stangerd's 
 kindred. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 When Narve had taken himself off, 
 Cormac threw down his mallet, and turned 
 to go down to the house. Thorgils watched 
 him, let him go, and presently followed 
 him, running, caught him up and put his 
 hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Whither now?" he said. 
 
 Cormac showed him the profile of a stern 
 face. "I am going after her," he said. 
 
 Thorgils was very sorry for him. "Ah, 
 but that will do you no good," he said. 
 "It's too late." 
 
 "No, no," said Cormac, "it's not too late 
 — for one thing or another." 
 
 Thorgils knew what he meant. "Well," 
 he said, "I am sure Berse will be home 
 before you can fetch at him — but I shall 
 go with you." 
 
 "I shall wait for nobody," Cormac said, 
 and went into the house. Thorgils turned
 
 CHASE 159 
 
 back to summon all hands, and before he 
 had got them together, he saw Cormac 
 spur out of the yard on his black horse. 
 He threw up his head and flacked his hands 
 against his thighs in despair; but he 
 followed him with something like a dozen 
 men, and by hard riding managed to keep 
 him in sight. 
 
 $ $ # $ $ 
 
 Cormac came down to the ferry where 
 Thorveig's house was. There was a fine 
 wind blowing, but all the boats were beached. 
 Not one was in the water, and nobody about 
 the place. Well out in the firth he saw a 
 crowded boat — men and horses packed 
 together. The gleam of white told him all. 
 Stangerd was there in a white dress — she 
 seldom wore anything else. They were too 
 far off for him to make her out; but he 
 saw that she sat in the fore-part of the boat, 
 and thought that she must see him. He 
 held up his hand that held the axe. His 
 heart beat high. He fancied that she lifted
 
 160 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 hers. He was no longer under the curse. 
 All his thoughts of her were purely good. 
 He should see her soon. When he turned 
 about he saw Thorveig standing in the door 
 of her house, the tall, thin-haired woman 
 with her faded, all-seeing, unseeing eyes. 
 
 "What do you want here, Cormac?" 
 she said. "I have no more sons for you 
 to slay." 
 
 "I want a boat to cross the water," he 
 said. "You shall be well paid for it." 
 
 "Ah, you'll find no boats here," she 
 said. "They are all high and dry, as you 
 see. They wait for the shipwright. They 
 are all unseaworthy." 
 
 Cormac was looking at the boats. One 
 after another he entered and eyed over. 
 There was a hole in every one of them. 
 
 "You hag!" he said. "This is your 
 doing. You have been at your tricks." 
 
 She frowned at him, but lifted her head 
 high and seemed to look down at him 
 with scorn.
 
 CHASE 161 
 
 "And what is it to you what I please 
 to do with my own ? Did you not so with 
 yours when you bade me off your land ? 
 And why may you be wanting a boat on 
 this water, which is none of yours?" And 
 then she came closer to him and pried into 
 his face. "And why should I help you at 
 all, Cormac?" she asked him. 
 
 But Cormac had forgotten her and her 
 boats and was looking over the blue and 
 windy water. The boat was more than 
 half-way across. Again he flung up his hand 
 with the axe; and when again he saw 
 the white sleeve lift he pressed his 
 knees into his horse as if he would ride 
 into the water and swim after Stangerd. 
 But just then Thorgils and his company 
 rode up. 
 
 Thorgils asked the spae-wife the same 
 question — Could they have a boat ? 
 
 "Boats! Boats!" she cried. "Look at 
 the boats. There's not one sound one 
 amongst them all."
 
 1 62 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "No, you old vixen !" Cormac said. 
 "That's because you have stove them in." 
 
 He picked out one of them, nevertheless. 
 "I'll try this," he said to Thorgils. "We 
 can caulk her with mud and rushes." 
 
 Thorgils shook his head. "Better not 
 — she'll sink you. It will be quicker in the 
 end to ride round by the head of the firth." 
 
 "Go as you will," said Cormac. "I 
 shall take this boat." 
 
 "You shall pay for her — you shall pay!" 
 cried the spae-wife. 
 
 Cormac was on his feet, tugging at the 
 boat. 
 
 "Give her the hire, and let me be out," 
 he said. 
 
 Thorgils bargained with her for half a 
 mark, and Cormac led his horse into the 
 boat, when they had caulked her with rope 
 and pitch. Toste went with him to help 
 him row. They had got about a bowshot 
 out when the old tub began to fill. Almost 
 before those on shore understood as much,
 
 CHASE 163 
 
 the water was over the gunwale, and men 
 and horses were in the water. 
 
 "Ah, you old b h!" Thorgils cried 
 
 to the woman. "You would drown my 
 brother, would you?" 
 
 She had her lips locked together, and cold 
 fire in her eyes. She nodded her head 
 sharply three or four times. She was a 
 great hater. 
 
 But the men and the horses came ashore; 
 and Cormac owned that there was nothing 
 for it but to go round the firth-head. That 
 put a good fifteen miles on to the journey, 
 and would make him too late. He had 
 lost her ! 
 
 He said nothing about it, and was surprised 
 himself to find that he had no wish to kill 
 anybody. Before he could reach Sowerby 
 Stangerd would be lost to him. He found 
 that he loved her the more for the thought 
 of that. He had not — at least, not at this 
 moment of first certainty — the jealous rage 
 of the lover who knows that his mistress is
 
 1 64 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 possessed by another man. The thought of 
 her beauty mounted his head like wine. 
 
 The whole troop of them rode round the 
 head of Ramfirth. The first house they 
 came to was Mull, where a man called Wale 
 lived. He was a friend of Berse's, and 
 had been at the wedding. 
 
 This Wale was standing at the gate of 
 his court, waiting for them. Greetings 
 passed. 
 
 Cormac said, "Shall we find Berse up 
 at his house, think you ? We are come 
 to deal with him ?" 
 
 Wale answered him: "You will find him 
 there, sure enough. It is two hours' riding. 
 And he has been home this two hours or 
 more. There's a great company there 
 with him. I think you will do little good." 
 
 Thorgils looked at Cormac, being himself 
 sure they were come on a fool's errand. 
 But Cormac was thinking of other things. 
 So then Thorgils said, "Brother, what say 
 you ? To my mind it is foolishness, going
 
 CHASE 165 
 
 on. We can do nothing against them. 
 They have the law, they have the lady, and 
 they will be more than we." 
 
 Cormac then gave him a glance: it was 
 no more than a glance. "Do as you will," 
 he said. "I shall go on, for I must see 
 Stangerd." 
 
 "You will never see her," said Thorgils. 
 
 Cormac made no reply, but still looked 
 up the shadowed valley whither they had 
 taken her. 
 
 Presently he seemed to come to himself, 
 and gathered up the reins, and moved up 
 the path at a walk. Thorgils looked about 
 at the faces of his friends. "What are 
 we to do with him?" he said to Toste. 
 'We had better follow. No one knows 
 what may befall him." 
 
 Toste tossed his head up. "A bad 
 business to my thinking — but you are right." 
 
 So they went up the road after Cormac, 
 and all together into the dark valley among 
 the rocks, where Berse had his homestead
 
 1 66 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 well fortified against the weather and his 
 enemies. As they rounded the tongue of 
 land which made a natural outpost to the 
 place, they saw that they were expected. 
 Berse stood there in war-gear, surrounded 
 by his friends. There were twenty to thirty 
 of them. 
 
 The party from Melstead drew rein, and 
 each side looked at the other for a while. 
 Then Cormac left his company and cantered 
 forward alone. Seeing that, Berse, who was 
 on foot, came out to meet him, but not a 
 long way.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 PARLEY 
 
 (^ORMAC was hot and fierce. "Berse," 
 he said, "you have behaved falsely 
 to me, who never did you any harm." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," said Berse. 
 
 "But I say that you have. Stangerd 
 was my plighted wife, and all the country 
 knew it. This wedding was done without 
 my knowledge and against her will — and 
 you have betrayed us." 
 
 Berse looked away from him into the 
 sky. There was a queer light in his eyes, 
 as if he saw strange birds flying, and was 
 more amused than curious about them. 
 
 "All this," he said, "is very wild talk; 
 
 but I understand you. You had better 
 
 167
 
 1 68 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 tell me what it is you want — seeing the 
 deed is done." 
 
 Cormac mastered himself, and spoke as 
 coolly as he could, but in a carrying voice. 
 "I am come to have Stangerd back again, 
 and ransom of the affront." 
 
 Berse looked now at his friend Thord 
 Arndisson, who was by him. He nodded 
 his head two or three times, and had the 
 same gleam of amusement in his eyes. 
 
 "Fine talk," he said, "brave talk, 
 but " He gave up the attempt. What- 
 ever was the use of talking like this ? 
 
 Thord Arndisson spoke. 
 
 "Cormac," said he, "when you are 
 cooler you will see that you are asking out- 
 landish things. Now let us be reasonable. 
 Berse here acted as his right was, knowing 
 nothing of you or your affairs. What he 
 was told, that he understood; and it was 
 that a day was fixed for the marriage, and 
 that you did not come, but instead of you, 
 your brother Thorgils came with the news
 
 PARLEY 169 
 
 that he could not find you; and 'Maybe 
 he is abroad,' he said. Now I offer you 
 terms on behalf of Berse; but certainly 
 Berse keeps the woman." 
 
 Berse said: "Cormac, there is no question 
 of Stangerd going back with you. That 
 I shall never agree to, nor will she, as you 
 will find if you ask her. Instead of her, 
 I will give you my sister Hilda for a wife. 
 She is here in the house, and you can go 
 and look at her. But if you get her, you 
 will be very well married, in my opinion. 
 I can't say fairer for you than that." 
 
 Cormac stood frowning and biting his 
 cheek. He was looking at the house for 
 any sign of Stangerd, but the door was 
 shut, and there was nothing to see. 
 
 Thorgils thought very well of Berse's 
 offer. "It is very fair," he said, and then 
 to Cormac: "Let us talk about this, 
 Cormac." 
 
 Just then a woman called out from the 
 throng behind the two brothers: "Do no
 
 i;o A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 such folly, Thorgils." And then she stepped 
 out from the company. She was a woman 
 called Thordis, who lived at Spaewife's Fell. 
 
 "Out on it," she said sharply. "Don't 
 you be trickt by them. That woman is 
 a fool; and you expect a fine man like 
 Cormac to take to her ? Madness, Cormac !" 
 
 Thord Arndisson was much put out. "Get 
 back with you, witch-wife." He turned 
 to Cormac, saying: "I tell you that Hilda 
 will turn out a wonder of the world." 
 
 Cormac said, "She may burn the world 
 out for aught I care. She will never 
 burn me." 
 
 Thorgils would have urged him again; 
 but now Cormac could hear no voice but 
 his own. He confronted Berse. 
 
 "Berse," he said, "there is but one thing 
 to do. I challenge you to wager-of-battle 
 in fifteen days at the Leet-holm." 
 
 At this place Berse had fought many 
 and many a wager out. 
 
 "I know the way to Leet-holm very well,"
 
 PARLEY 171 
 
 he said; "better than you do, I expect. 
 I will be there, don't doubt me; but I take 
 leave to tell you that there is less joy for 
 you at Leet-holm than there may be here 
 in Sowerby if you choose for it." 
 
 "But I don't choose," said Cormac, and 
 made to go by him towards the house. 
 Thord Arndisson went after him. 
 
 "Where are you for?" he called out. 
 Cormac stopped, and turned full round to 
 face him and Berse. 
 
 "I am going into Berse's house, to see 
 Stangerd. Are you for stopping me?" 
 
 Thord said to Berse: "Do you hear 
 that?" 
 
 "I do," said Berse. 
 
 "Is he to go in ?" 
 
 "Why not?" said Berse. 
 
 Cormac by this time was half-way to 
 the house. Berse's men made a road for 
 him. He went to the door, shook the latch, 
 and gave a kick with his foot which sent 
 it flying open.
 
 172 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 The great hall was set for a feast, and the 
 women were still about the tables. Hilda was 
 there, and Stanvor also; but not Stangerd. 
 
 Cormac asked for her. Hilda looked 
 doubtfully about her; but Stanvor was 
 not at all afraid. 
 
 'You will find her in the Bower," she 
 said, and went on with her business. 
 
 Cormac went into the Bower. Stangerd 
 rose up. She wore her golden wreath, and 
 was very quiet. She said nothing, and 
 they looked at each other for a while. 
 
 Then Cormac went to her and put a hand 
 on either shoulder. 
 
 "You could not wait for me, my dear, 
 — and now I am too late." 
 
 She would not look up. "I should have 
 waited if I could," she said; "but you 
 kept me too long." 
 
 He said, "Had I kept you a thousand 
 years, that would not have cooled my love. 
 You told me that you were steadfast."
 
 PARLEY 173 
 
 "So I am," she said. 
 
 "You should have come with me when 
 I called you," he said. "I told you long 
 ago how I would have wedded you. You 
 should have come into my arms then and 
 there, and I would have carried you away 
 — but you have chosen differently." 
 
 She said: "I have not chosen at all." 
 
 "No more reproaches," said Cormac, 
 "between you and me. I shall never give 
 you up. You are my love. But I will 
 do you no wrong." 
 
 She was more moved than he was, though 
 she stayed very quiet under his hands. 
 She did not raise her head to look at him, 
 nor did he ask her. For a little time longer 
 they remained standing so together; and 
 then he shook his head suddenly and left 
 her. 
 
 Presently Stanvor Slimlegs came into the 
 Bower and moved about Stangerd where 
 she still stood in mid-floor. 
 Then Stanvor came near her, and said:
 
 174 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "Listen, Stangerd. I love Berse, and shall 
 not leave him unless you force me." 
 
 "I shall not force you," said Stangerd. 
 
 "He does not care for me in the way 
 of marriage, or he could have married me 
 when he chose. And you care little for 
 him, I fancy. The world is a strange one 
 for women. I would give all I have to 
 be where you will be to-night, and you, I 
 suppose, would give the same for my place." 
 
 "No, I would not," said Stangerd. "I 
 would keep what I have if I could." 
 
 "You would keep it for Cormac?" 
 
 But Stangerd said, "Cormac will never 
 have anything of mine." 
 
 They stood near together, these two, 
 looking out of window. Words seemed 
 upon the edges of their lips, which might 
 have been winged if they had gained 
 utterance. Stanvor always looked like that, 
 as if she was full of sayings which she could 
 not frame into speech. She seemed to be 
 worn thin and fine with the burden of what
 
 PARLEY 175 
 
 she wanted to declare. Stangerd was silent 
 also. She was deeply despondent, and had 
 not, perhaps, any desire to unbosom herself. 
 They stood so for quite a long time, looking 
 out at the dusk gathering about the folds 
 of the mountain.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 CORMAC MAKES READY 
 
 /^ORMAC made this song, and sang 
 it to himself as he wandered the 
 fell: 
 
 Berse, you have dared impossibly, 
 Taking what I have feared to take — 
 Looking where I have feared to see, 
 Dipping where none may dip and be 
 Still man, within the lonely lake. 
 
 To have scaled the awful mountain pass, 
 
 To have seen unblencht the untrod snows, 
 
 Affronting with your front of brass 
 
 The heart of the everlasting rose — 
 
 You have dared enough and shall give o'er 
 
 Your daring. You have dared so much: 
 
 Let it suffice. No more, no more. 
 
 176
 
 CORMAC MAKES READY 177 
 
 Yet seeing by that desperate touch 
 There is come glory on your brow; 
 And to your name the pride is such 
 The man who bears it he must die, 
 I tell you, Berse, the time is now 
 Before you've time to blur and dull it 
 With your gross brain and teeming eye 
 And tongue, when righteous hand shall clutch 
 Your throat and take you by the gullet 
 And wrench the life out, and the lie 
 You make of it — and here's the sign — 
 The clutching hand writes this: 'tis mine. 
 
 He got great comfort out of these lines, 
 but his brother looked askance at them, 
 and his mother gave him other counsel. 
 
 "My son," she said, "you have to con- 
 front a champion in a play which he knows 
 by heart. Have you thought how you shall 
 go to work ?" 
 
 Cormac said that he had. 
 
 "Well," said his brother, "have you 
 considered with what weapon you will meet 
 Berse?" 
 
 Cormac said, "I will have a heavy axe, 
 with a long handle."
 
 178 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "And he," said Dalla, "will have Whiting, 
 which is a sharp sword, and a charmed 
 sword. It has a healing-stone in its hilt. 
 It would turn any axe you could get." 
 
 Cormac was put out. "I would trust 
 my fingers to reach his windpipe," he said, 
 "and after that let Whiting bite the grass." 
 
 "All this is foolishness," his mother 
 replied. "I am the widow of your father, 
 who was a fighting man, and know what I 
 am talking about. Now do you go to see 
 Skeggi of Reykir and ask him for Shavening. 
 That is a sword of renown." 
 
 "I know it is," said Cormac. 
 
 He thought after a while that he would go. 
 
 Skeggi was an elderly man who lived at 
 Reykir, across the Mid-river. Melstead 
 looked upon Reykir. Skeggi was also a 
 heavy, ruminating man who, instead of 
 answering a direct question directly, used 
 to say, "Let us see," or "Let us think 
 about it." That was just what he said 
 when Cormac came for the loan of
 
 CORMAC MAKES READY 179 
 
 Shavening. He was threshing corn in his 
 barn, and, having heard what Cormac 
 wanted, said that they must think it over, 
 and went on with his threshing. Cormac 
 contained himself as well as he could, which 
 was very little indeed; but Skeggi was 
 not to be moved by finger-nail biting or 
 ramping up and down the doorway. 
 
 Then, when he had done all he had a 
 mind to do, he hung up his flail, and came 
 to Cormac. 
 
 "My son," he said, "it would never do." 
 
 "Do you mean," said Cormac, "that you 
 will not lend me your sword ?" 
 
 "My meaning," said Skeggi, "is like this. 
 You two would not get on together. That 
 is what I mean." 
 
 "I don't understand that," Cormac told 
 him. 
 
 "Shavening, my sword," said Skeggi, "is 
 what we call a slow sword. It is a deliberate 
 sword, a sword of queer temper. Now you, 
 too, are of a queer temper, I can see; but
 
 180 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the queerness of your temper is not the 
 queerness of Shavening's temper. Why, you 
 would be for slicing and hewing before 
 Shavening had made up his mind to quit 
 the sheath. Tush ! no good could come 
 of it." He shook his head, and felt the 
 beard on his chin. He raised his head and 
 stroked up the beard of his neck. 
 
 "My question, Skeggi, is, Will you or 
 will you not lend me your sword?" 
 
 Skeggi looked at him, suspending his work 
 at his beard. 
 
 "That's a question!" he said. "We 
 must think about that." 
 
 "Pish!" said Cormac, and went away. 
 
 He came home in a red flurry of rage, and 
 it was long before his mother could get a 
 word out of him. Then she said, "You 
 go to work madly, my son. Skeggi will 
 lend you Shavening, but not that gait. 
 You must take a man as a man takes you.
 
 CORMAC MAKES READY 181 
 
 If he is slow-minded, you must keep yourself 
 slow. He will lend you Shavening." 
 
 Cormac frowned. "It will be a fine thing 
 for a man who is to meet a champion at the 
 Holm that he owes his weapon to his mother." 
 
 Dalla said, "He owes it to his mother 
 that he is able to go there at all." 
 
 After a few days she spoke to her unruly 
 son again. "Go and see Skeggi," she said, 
 "and treat him fairly. He will lend you 
 his sword." 
 
 So Cormac rides over to Reykir a second 
 time. 
 
 Skeggi was ready for him. He brought 
 the sword out from under his bedding; it 
 was wrapped up in a sheepskin. He un- 
 folded the fleece and laid Shavening on his 
 knees. Shavening had a long handle with a 
 short guard. Attached to the handle by 
 two leather thongs was a purse of leather 
 sewn up. "This purse," he said, "goes
 
 1 82 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 about with Shavening everywhere. Now, 
 you must leave that alone." 
 
 Cormac, frowning at the sword, nodded 
 his head shortly. 
 
 Skeggi went on talking. "Now these are 
 the matters to be known in your conduct 
 of Shavening. First, the sun must not shine 
 upon either hilt or guard: see first of all to 
 that, and keep him in his sheepskin until 
 you want him. Next, you shall not wear 
 him until the morning of the day when 
 you have use for him — not, indeed, until 
 you are to ride out for the place of your 
 battle. And when you get to your battle- 
 place, this is what you shall do. You shall 
 take yourself apart from all men, and draw 
 Shavening slowly from his scabbard until 
 you have him fair in the light. Stretch 
 him out his length, hold him up, and blow 
 upon him. Then watch him. A little snake 
 will come forth from under the guard, with 
 a flat head. He will come out half-way 
 and look at you. Now you must hold
 
 CORMAC MAKES READY 183 
 
 Shavening steady, and in such a way that 
 the snake can go back under the hilt. Do 
 you follow me in every point?" 
 
 Cormac was frowning himself black. "I 
 hear you," he said, "and I understand 
 you. But let me tell you that those are 
 tricks for a wizard." 
 
 Skeggi said, "It may be so; but you 
 will either do as I tell you, or be sorry for 
 it." He wrapped Shavening again in his 
 skeepskin and handed him over without 
 another word. 
 
 Cormac rode home. 
 
 He thanked his mother for her help. "I 
 was uncivil," he said. "Without you I 
 should never have got it." 
 
 "So you have got it?" she asked. 
 
 "Here is the wonder-brand," he said, and 
 took it out of the sheepskin. Dalla felt it 
 up and down with her hands. 
 
 Cormac shook it, weighed it in his hand, 
 and turned it about. Then he set his other 
 hand to it and tried to draw it; but it would
 
 1 84 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 not budge. "A plague take it," he said. 
 "It works too stiff for me. It works as 
 stiff as its master." 
 
 "Take care," said Dalla; "you are too 
 rough with him." 
 
 But Cormac was angry, and the more he 
 tugged the angrier he got. 
 
 "A blight on wizardry!" he cried. He 
 put his foot on the scabbard and tugged 
 at the hilt. The purse got in his way: 
 he tore it off. Then he pulled with all his 
 might. Shavening screamed, but would not 
 come out. Cormac flung it on the floor, 
 and went out of the house. Dalla picked it 
 up, mended the purse-strings, and wrapped 
 Shavening again in his fleece. 
 
 Cormac took no further heed of it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 BATTLE 
 
 CO the day came round for the battle, 
 
 and Cormac with his brother and 
 
 his men rode out to the Holm which 
 
 is called Leet-holm, a day's and a night's 
 
 journey for the party; but not so far for 
 
 Berse and his party. 
 
 Berse went off before it was light, and left 
 
 Stangerd in bed. She would have nothing 
 
 to say to him about it, but he kept his temper. 
 
 Young Stanvor Slimlegs was astir to give 
 
 him a horn of hot drink and to see him 
 
 ride away. She served him while he was 
 
 fastening up his fighting-gear; she brought 
 
 him Whiting and buckled it upon him; 
 
 then his cloak to go over all. There was no 
 
 185
 
 1 86 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 speech between them till just the end, when 
 Berse put his hand on her shoulder and 
 said: "Good girl!" 
 
 Stanvor then said, "Good luck to your 
 fighting !" 
 
 Berse pulled a wry face, and jerked back 
 his head on his shoulders. 
 
 "That is much more than she says." 
 
 Stanvor replied, "She does not know 
 her own fortune. But she will know it." 
 
 Stangerd, lying in her bed with her hands 
 between her knees, heard them talking. 
 She ground her teeth together and listened. 
 There was no more said. "Now they are 
 kissing," she thought. 
 
 But it was not so. Berse left the house 
 without more ado and rode away down 
 the valley, neither speaking to Stanvor any 
 more, nor looking at her. 
 
 Leet-holm on Whamfirth is a flat meadow 
 beside the river. The fells stand all round
 
 BATTLE 187 
 
 about, so that you scarcely sec where is 
 the road to the sea. It is hard ground at 
 most times of the year, and a very good 
 battle-ground. 
 
 Cormac and his men were first to b'e there; 
 he was in a bad temper, and had done, so 
 far, none of the things he had be'en told 
 to do. He had girt himself with Shavening 
 outside his clothes, so that the sun had shone 
 upon the hilt from its first rising. And he 
 had taken off and left behind him the purse 
 which Skeggi said was to be left in place. 
 He was, in fact, most perverse. 
 
 When the two parties were within hail, 
 Berse rode forward and saluted Cormac's 
 company. 
 
 "Let me have a word with you, my 
 friends," he said pleasantly, "and most of 
 all with you, Cormac. " 
 
 Cormac, scowling, said, "We are not 
 come to have words with you." 
 
 "But you shall have them, whether or 
 no," said Berse; "and I have this to say.
 
 1 88 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 You are a young man and I am not; you 
 have fought little and I have fought much. 
 You have challenged me to wager-of-battle, 
 which is a tricky game wherein neither 
 rage, nor spleen, nor youth, nor muscle will 
 help you so much as a cool head and a 
 knowledge of the game. These have I. 
 Now, if you will, the battle shall be changed 
 to a fighting-match. That is, a bout where 
 there are no rules but the rules of nature. 
 Wild cats can play that game, and moor- 
 cocks know it well. Take it as you will: 
 I mean fairly.'* 
 
 Thorgils said, "Nothing could be more 
 honourably spoken," and all his friends 
 agreed among each other that he was 
 right. 
 
 Cormac would not accept of it. He shook 
 off Thorgils and moved apart. 
 
 "I will abide by the challenge," he said. 
 "I will face you in any way, and match 
 myself with you in everything. If you 
 know the rules, I will learn them."
 
 BATTLE 189 
 
 Berse shrugged his shoulder. "Be it so. 
 I have done my best for you." 
 
 Then they prepared the ground accord- 
 ing to the laws of wager-of-battle. They 
 stretched an ox-hide on the ground and 
 pegged it out with hazel-wands. Upon this 
 they set the champions facing each other; 
 and then the shield-bearers stood up. In 
 wager-of-battle either man has a shield- 
 bearer, who defends him with three shields 
 in turn. If these are cloven without a 
 scratch given or received, the men fight 
 without shields, save the targets they carry 
 for themselves, until blood falls upon the 
 hide or one man is driven off it. 
 
 $ * * * $ 
 
 Now Cormac forgot all the rest of Skeggi's 
 instructions. He did not withdraw himself 
 when he unbuckled Shavening, and instead 
 of unsheathing him slowly he tried to get 
 him out with a quick jerk. Shavening
 
 igo A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 would not budge. Cormac, red and furious, 
 took him by the point of the scabbard, set 
 his feet upon the guards of the hilt and 
 tore the scabbard off him by main force. 
 Shavening screamed as he came out. The 
 snake did not show himself at all, but instead 
 a dull mist settled down upon the blade, 
 and did not all clear off again, running before 
 the strength of the sun; but some remained 
 in blotches upon him. 
 
 Berse said, "I know that sword of old. 
 That's not the way to treat him." His 
 little bright eyes were twinkling, and he 
 twitched his cheek-bones incessantly. He 
 took his stand upon the hide without any 
 fuss, walking to it as if he knew the way 
 very well — as indeed he did — talking as he 
 went to his shield-bearer, and making jokes. 
 Cormac was serious, and had nothing to 
 say. He felt that all eyes were on him, to 
 see where and how he failed in the laws of 
 this battle. But he did not require to be 
 shown where to stand. Thorgils was his
 
 BATTLE 191 
 
 shield-bearer, and the first blow was to 
 Berse. 
 
 Whiting seemed to cut leather and wattle 
 like butter. He sliced through the rim and 
 shore the shield in two halves, but did not 
 touch Cormac, or drive him back. Then 
 Cormac, in his turn, cut at Berse's shield. 
 Shavening would have worked more easily 
 if he had not been so driven. But as it 
 was, the shield was broken rather than cut, 
 and Shavening required some force to be 
 withdrawn. Berse blinked, and shook his 
 head to see that. It was on the tip of his 
 tongue to give advice — but he stopped 
 himself in time. 
 
 The three shields to a man, allowed by 
 the laws, were broken, and then the 
 champions faced each other with sword and 
 targe. Berse was now warmed to his work, 
 and the battle-joy shone like points of fire 
 in his eyes. He meant business now, one 
 could see. Cormac was very still, and rather 
 grey in the face. He was the first to attack
 
 192 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 and Bersc parried him, took a step back- 
 wards, which brought him to the edge of 
 the hide, dipped sideways, ran in under 
 cover of his round shield, and made a feint 
 at Cormac's left shoulder. Cormac stopped 
 him there, and Berse swung Whiting round 
 and brought him down like a squall to 
 Cormac's right. Cormac got Shavening up 
 in time, and caught Whiting at the point 
 where the ridge ends and the blade gets thin. 
 Shavening sliced through Whiting and 
 dispointed him. The point spun in the air 
 like a coin and struck Cormac on the sword 
 hand. It cut the knuckle to the bone, 
 and the blood spurted. Men gave a cry, 
 and then it was seen that Shavening had 
 come down upon Berse's target and got 
 a jag in himself. Berse had given back 
 to the edge of the hide, and Cormac was 
 in the act to rush in upon him when 
 Thorgils lifted his arm and prevented him. 
 "Bloodshed," he said. "The fight is 
 done, brother."
 
 BATTLE 193 
 
 Cormac glared at him, and next at 
 Berse; but now the onlookers were between 
 the champions. The fight was over, Cormac 
 bleeding freely from the hand. 
 
 Berse was wiping the sweat from his face. 
 "I'm shorter in the wind than I was," 
 he said to his friends. "If Cormac were not 
 in such a rage, he would have done better. 
 As it is, he has done well." 
 
 "He'll not be satisfied with this," a man 
 said. 
 
 "He'll have to pay the blood-money," 
 said Berse. 
 
 Cormac was not at all satisfied. "Does 
 he call that victory ? A scratch from a 
 broken sword-point ? Can he do no better ? 
 Let him get a sword from his kindred and 
 meet me again. I have one hand left." 
 He was talking wildly. 
 
 Presently Berse pushed through the crowd 
 and came to him.
 
 194 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "I claim the ransom," he said. "You 
 did well, Cormac; but I bled you." 
 
 "You shall be paid," said Cormac; "but 
 this is not the end." 
 
 "It is, for me," Berse said. "Now you 
 have a nasty jag in the hand — no fault of 
 yours, but pure misfortune — and you have 
 far to ride. Now, will you come home 
 with me and get it dressed there ? 
 Stangerd shall see to you. I promise you 
 that." 
 
 Cormac shook the blood from his hand. 
 "Do you think that I will see my love in 
 your house, and the bed wherein you lie ? 
 I would bleed to death before I saw it. Get 
 you gone with your broken sword, and find 
 you another. There is no end to the strife 
 between us. You have stolen my love, 
 and every hour that you spend with her is 
 horrible to me. For every hour of it you 
 shall pay me back." 
 
 You are talking wildly," said Berse. 
 
 But I see that you would take anything 

 
 BATTLE 195 
 
 amiss. Even if she came to you now you 
 would revile her for the deed. We had 
 better part now; but I wish you well — 
 and more sense." 
 So they parted.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 
 
 AT the door of his house stood Stanvor 
 Slimlegs in a white gown, with the 
 fire of welcome shining in her face. 
 Berse chuckled to himself to see her there, 
 and said to his friend Thord: "That's a 
 good little girl, mighty fond of me." 
 
 "So she is, then," says Thord. "Any- 
 body might see that." 
 
 Berse at first had no better comment 
 than a grunt. "There's one at home 
 might see it and care no more than one 
 fly cares for another that has his legs in 
 the honey-pot." 
 
 "You married her against her will," 
 
 Thord told him. 
 
 196
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 197 
 
 "I'll get her good-will yet," Berse said. 
 "I've had everything I wanted out of the 
 world so far, and I'm not going to be denied 
 now." He stopped there; then, just as 
 they were in the court, he said, "She's 
 as cold as a fish. You might as well make 
 love to a dead woman." 
 
 "If Stangerd is cold," said Thord, "it 
 is because she is banking her fire. The 
 fire is there." 
 
 Stanvor did not move from the doorway, 
 for she was shy, and always wary in what 
 she showed. She was used to Berse's plain 
 way, and expected no more than she got. 
 
 "One-and-thirty battles now," she said as 
 Berse came up. 
 
 Berse suddenly laughed.. "One-and-thirty 
 battles, my pretty one!" and put his 
 arms round her and kissed her mouth. 
 She took that quietly, and freed herself 
 from him without making a fuss. You notice 
 — as Berse noticed — that she took his victory 
 for granted.
 
 198 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He asked her, Where was Stangerd. She 
 told him, In the Bower. 
 
 "Does she not know we have come home ?" 
 
 "I think she does. I am sure she does, 
 because I told her when I saw you coming 
 round the shoulder." 
 
 Berse twinkled, looking at her. "You 
 have a far sight, my child.'' 
 
 She made no answer to that, and moved 
 away, because Stangerd had come into the 
 hall, and stood looking at Berse and his 
 company. 
 
 She had a blue gown and a green scarf 
 over one shoulder and half her bosom. Her 
 eyes were watchful, and brighter blue than 
 her gown; her colour was high, burning 
 on her cheek-bones. Certainly she was the 
 most lovely woman in Iceland. Berse's 
 courage rose to meet her. 
 
 "Well," she said, "have you killed 
 Cormac?" She spoke sullenly, without 
 curiosity or anxiety; but Berse was very 
 gay and laughed at her.
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 199 
 
 "I have not, my dear. I am too old a 
 hand for such folly as that. Now shall I 
 tell you in Cormac's way what I have 
 done?" 
 
 She looked at him steadily. "You shall, ,, 
 she said, "if you can." 
 
 Berse did not lose heart. He lifted his 
 sword Whiting as if it had been the back- 
 bone of a harp, and struck upon it with 
 his fingers. 
 
 "Listen all — The battle flame 
 Flickered from the cloudy dark, 
 Breathing slaughter; on he came, 
 Stood within the withied hide; 
 There the old war-dog stood stark. 
 Shavening screamed, but Whiting met him: 
 Whiting fell, but Shavening bit him — 
 Took his nose off, flung it wide. 
 Ill to see and ill to bide 
 When the shard flew ofF and hit him — 
 Red blood flowed — the law must hold. 
 Yet the young man matcht the old." 
 
 Stangerd, whose colour was very hot 
 now, said, "That is bad poetry, if ever
 
 200 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 I heard it, but it shows you a generous 
 man." 
 
 Berse laughed. "Sweetheart," he said, 
 "I should like to please you if I could. I 
 tell you he made a good match. A fine 
 fighter. A champion." 
 
 She said, "You do please me by such 
 dealing." 
 
 He put his arm round her. "You have 
 never said a kinder thing to me. You 
 make me a generous man by treating me so." 
 
 Stanvor Slimlegs watched them from a 
 corner of the room. 
 
 Stangerd drew away, but not roughly. 
 Her eyes were full of thought. 
 
 Afterwards she and Stanvor served the 
 men in the hall, and once, as she stood over 
 Berse to pour into his horn, she put her 
 hand on his shoulder and left it there for 
 a while. Berse said nothing and did nothing 
 except twitch his face and blink his eyes; but 
 he did not stay very long in the hall. That 
 night she was kinder to him than she had
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 201 
 
 ever been since he had married her; and 
 by and by he told her so. 
 
 She sighed and turned away. "You are 
 easily satisfied," she said. 
 
 Little Stanvor, lying awake, was full of 
 thought. "He is a wonderful man to have 
 brought her round. Now he will be happy. 
 He can't bear to have glum looks about 
 him. He might have four women here 
 instead of two. His heart is large enough 
 for them all." 
 
 In the morning her sharp eyes saw con- 
 firmation. Stangerd was very sedate, but 
 her eyes were not haggard; nor was she 
 peevish. Berse was full of his jokes and 
 mischievous tricks. He played with Stanvor 
 and made Stangerd jealous. Then he made 
 friends with Stangerd against her will. She 
 would not look at him, but she listened to 
 him, and in spite of herself laughed at what 
 he whispered in her ear, and let him kiss her. 
 There was no more talk of Cormac; and 
 when Berse brought out Whiting from his
 
 202 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 scabbard and showed him to the two girls 
 with his ragged square end where the point 
 had been sliced off by Shavening, Stanvor, 
 looking guardedly askance, saw that 
 Stangerd's eyes were very bright. She said 
 nothing — but it was she herself who turned 
 the grindstone when Berse repointed the 
 blade. 
 
 Then she began to do little offices for Berse, 
 which Stanvor had always done before. 
 She used to come to the door to wait for 
 him, and find Stanvor there. After a few 
 days of that, Stanvor gave up going there; 
 but she watched for him out of the window 
 of the hall. She fancied sometimes that 
 Stangerd might really be jealous, but would 
 be too proud to show it. That made her 
 very careful. She told herself that she would 
 be showing her love for Berse a very 
 shabby thing if she stood in the way of 
 what his heart was set upon. He was 
 making progress with Stangerd, it was very 
 clear. He used to discuss that with
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 203 
 
 ■ 
 
 Stanvor whenever he found himself 
 alone with her. He would say, "The 
 proud girl laughed at me this morning. 
 She has a kindness for me, you know, 
 child. ,, 
 
 Stanvor would say, "Be sure she has. 
 I have noticed her." 
 
 Once Stanvor told him things which she 
 had found out. "Stangerd was very rest- 
 less because you were so late home," she 
 told him. 
 
 "Was she indeed, child ?" 
 
 "Yes. She couldn't settle to anything. 
 She asked me three times to tell her who 
 would be at the horse-fighting, and after- 
 wards at Thord's house. " 
 
 Berse twinkled, and rubbed his chin. 
 "She thought there might be women 
 there." 
 
 Stanvor did not answer at first. Pres- 
 ently she said, "She asked me if I thought 
 there would be any girls there." 
 
 "And what did you say ?"
 
 204 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Stanvor opened her eyes wider. "I said 
 there would not be any." 
 
 "Good!" said Berse. "I like her 
 question, and I like your answer. You are 
 a girl of gold." He rubbed his hands 
 together. "We are getting on — oh, yes, we 
 are getting on. She's a beauty — isn't she 
 now ?" 
 
 "I think she's very beautiful," Stanvor 
 said. 
 
 "So she is, then," said Berse, then looked 
 closely at Stanvor, and then stopped. She 
 had turned her head away, but showed by 
 no other sign that the talk was painful to 
 her. Berse had very kind looks for the 
 young girl, and served her with them very 
 often. 
 
 Cormac made no sign until the Spring, 
 nor was the ransom paid. But when the 
 weather opened and the Spring was come 
 there was talk about the Thing at Thorsness 
 where Berse would go and some of Cormac's
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 205 
 
 friends would certainly be. Berse made sure 
 of being paid there. 
 
 When the time came that Berse was to 
 set out for the Thing, Stangerd wished to 
 go with him; but he would not allow her. 
 "No, no, my beauty," he said. "The 
 Thing is no place for women. It's rough 
 lodging there, and rough work is done. 
 Besides that, you would meet your old 
 flame there, and I shouldn't like that now." 
 
 She looked at him steadily. "Is that 
 what you are afraid of?" 
 
 "I don't know that I'm afraid of any- 
 thing," he said; "but you've taken a liking 
 for me lately which I should be sorry to 
 have disturbed." 
 
 She did not answer him directly. She 
 was always slow to speak. Nobody but 
 Cormac had ever got a confession out of her. 
 She kept her eyes fixed towards the ground. 
 "I should like to go with you," was all 
 she had to say. 
 
 Berse's face flickered. "It can't be so,
 
 206 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 my dear. I am sorry about it. But it 
 would make trouble." 
 
 "No," she said, " it would not. It would 
 spare trouble." 
 
 "I'll take all the trouble that comes to 
 me about you," Berse said. "I told your 
 kindred as much and will be as good as 
 my word. You are worth it." 
 
 She looked at him now. "I don't often 
 ask you to do a thing for me." 
 
 "My dear," he said, "that is true. I 
 wish you did." 
 
 "You won't let me come with you ?" 
 She was very insistent. It was plain to 
 Stanvor that she wanted to go, and why 
 she wanted to go. It was plain, also, that 
 Berse misunderstood her. To this last 
 question of hers he shook his head. "That 
 can't be." 
 
 She turned away. "Have it as you will," 
 she said, and went away without another 
 word. He thought that she would be 
 sulky with him later on; but she was not.
 
 BERSE GOES HOME 207 
 
 She never opened her heart to him — that 
 was not her way. Yet he felt that she 
 was inclined to him, and said to himself 
 as he went off to sleep: "This is the best 
 of my battles — to have engaged with this 
 stormy heart and to have quelled it." 
 
 When he was ready to go and came to 
 bid her farewell, she clung to him. That 
 touched him, and he stayed with her for 
 a while. 
 
 "Speak to me, Stangerd," he said. 
 "You are a strange girl to be so quiet when 
 I am such a magpie." 
 
 "I can't talk," she said; "but you 
 should have let me come. I had a reason." 
 
 "I knew that," he answered. "Come, 
 now, what was your reason?" 
 
 She wouldn't tell him for some time; 
 but at last she said, "I could have shown 
 that to Cormac which would have made 
 him leave you alone." 
 
 He held her close. "My dear one," he 
 said, "you make me happy. Now under-
 
 208 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 stand that I can take care of myself very 
 well, and that Cormac shall take no harm 
 from me." Then he kissed her, and she 
 looked at him sadly. 
 
 "You should have taken me with you," 
 she said again. "You will be sorry that 
 you did not." 
 
 "Why, so I shall, sweetheart," he said 
 with a laugh; "but I shall be the merrier 
 for you when I come back." 
 
 So he went off to the Thing, without a 
 good-bye for Stanvor, who watched him go 
 from the window of the Bower. 
 
 The two girls were very guarded with each 
 other while Berse was away. They never 
 once spoke of him.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DOINGS AT THE THING 
 
 PO the Thing at Thorsness came all the 
 West. When Berse came there with 
 his friends he was late. Most of the 
 booths were full, and he could not get his 
 proper place in that of his chief, Anlaf 
 Peacock of Herdholt. There was a great 
 crowd. In the seat which Berse had always 
 had, next to his friend Thord, there sat a 
 large man, very broad-shouldered, covered 
 with a bear-skin. Over his head he had a 
 hood made of the skin, which fell before 
 his eyes and made a darkness. He had 
 a black beard down to his breast. Between 
 
 his knees was a long sword in a grey sheath 
 
 209
 
 210 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 of walrus hide, and both his hands were 
 upon the hilt of it. 
 
 Berse looked him over, and puzzled who 
 he was. 
 
 He asked his neighbour — "Tell me, who 
 is our huge friend ?" 
 
 "Some call him Glum, some call him 
 Grim. I don't know what his real name 
 is, but I am sure it is neither of those." 
 
 "Well," said Berse, "we'll have it out 
 of him presently." 
 
 Men were jostling and crowding in the 
 booth, all talking together, drinking and 
 making jokes. Berse bided his time, and 
 presently trod heavily on the foot of the 
 covered man. 
 
 He drew it in hastily. "Steady, there!" 
 he said. 
 
 Then Berse turned to look at him. "So 
 you live — some part of you ? I was 
 thinking you disposed for burial, and was 
 minded to pile stones over you." 
 
 "A cairn will be built, it is very like,"
 
 DOINGS AT THE THING 211 
 
 said the Stranger, "but the dead man is 
 not known who shall sit in it." 
 
 "Now," said Berse, "we will make some 
 way towards knowing his name. You shall 
 tell us yours, to begin with, whether Scrum, 
 or Glum, or Bears'-Paws, or whatever it may 
 be. And then you shall tell us why you 
 choose to sit in the dark." 
 
 The Stranger pushed his hood back and 
 showed his fierce face and black beard. 
 He was very white-skinned, but his hair 
 and eyes dark as thunder. 
 
 "Stanhere is my name," he said, "and 
 I am of this country. I may have money 
 of Cormac's to pay over to you, or I may 
 not." 
 
 "Oho! That's it, then?" says Berse. 
 "Cormac has been long settling his accounts. 
 I wonder that I don't see him here." 
 
 "You will see him," said Stanhere, "but 
 not yet. Now I challenge you, Berse, to 
 wager-of-battle here at the Thing, and it 
 may be that you will get double ransom;
 
 212 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 but I think myself that you will get 
 
 none." 
 
 Berse chuckled. "You and your friends 
 are in a hurry to get rid of me," he said; 
 "but I have been too bony for Cormac to 
 swallow, and perhaps I may give you a 
 stomach-ache before I've done with you. 
 You take a high road, it seems to me. 
 Perhaps you may stumble one of these fine 
 days. One-and-thirty men have tried to 
 stretch me out, you must know." 
 
 Stanhere looked straight before him, an 
 immovable kind of man. "We don't 
 desire your death," he said. 
 
 'Then what in thunder do you desire V' 
 Berse asked him. 
 
 "We desire to put you in your place," 
 said Stanhere. 
 
 "You've done that already," Berse told 
 him. 
 
 Afterwards the day of meeting was 
 appointed, and before it was reached 
 Cormac had come to the Thing. Nobody
 
 DOINGS AT THE THING 213 
 
 but Stanhere knew where he had been or 
 what he had been doing. He had not been 
 at home since his battle with Berse, but he 
 had returned Shavening to Skeggi without 
 a word, and then had betaken himself to 
 his cousin Stanhere's house. There he had 
 remained ever since, hardly speaking or 
 moving. Stanhere, who was a silent, heavy, 
 slow-moving man himself, saw nothing in 
 this; but it was very unlike Cormac to 
 be brooding. 
 
 $ $ $ $ % 
 
 Berse armed himself for the battle in his 
 usual brisk manner. He had Whiting, he 
 had a target which Thorveig the spae- 
 wife had given him; he had Anlaf Peacock 
 to hold his shield. He came joking to the 
 Holm, and when he saw Cormac was to be 
 Stanhere's shield-bearer, he nodded and 
 laughed, as if it was all a good joke. 
 
 Scryme was the name of Stanhere's sword, 
 and they say of it that it never got rusty. 
 The reason of that may be that it had no
 
 214 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 time; for its master was as frequent a 
 champion as Berse. 
 
 Now Berse, who began the battle, cut 
 away two of Stanhere's shields one after 
 the other; but at the third shield he got 
 Whiting jammed in the iron rim, and for a 
 moment could npt get him out. Cormac 
 turned the shield sideways and jammed 
 Whiting the faster; then Stanhere, with 
 both hands to Scryme, made a huge cut 
 at Berse, who parried with his target — 
 Thorveig's gift. The target was true, and 
 turned Scryme, but the force of the blow 
 could not be stayed. Scryme slid off the 
 target and caught Berse upon the buttock. 
 It split the flesh from there down the thigh 
 to the shin-bone, and there it stuck. Berse 
 tottered, but his sword Whiting was free. 
 He drove at Stanhere with all his might, 
 shore through his shield and target and 
 smote him on the left breast. Then Berse 
 fell forward on his face, and his blood poured 
 from him.
 
 DOINGS AT THE THING 215 
 
 They carried him to the booth, and bound 
 up his wound. It was an ugly gash, full 
 two feet long, and had reached the bone. 
 The muscles were cut clean through. But 
 Berse was still full of his jokes. "Dig that 
 trench deep enough," he said, "and Cormac 
 will lay me in it at the next bout." And 
 then he sang: 
 
 " There was a carle at Windy-Gate," 
 
 which is a well-known song; and also: 
 
 " When on my chin the young beard grew" 
 
 which is another. 
 
 And he said: "Steady, you there at 
 your scraping. I have a handsome wife 
 at home who married a man, not a bulrush. 
 Leave the pith in my leg: I have a use 
 for it." But he was very ill, and not able 
 to be moved for a week or more. Even 
 then they had to make a litter for him and 
 carry him down to the firth. 
 
 So it was that Stanvor, who was on the 
 look-out every day, saw them carrying
 
 216 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 him up. She turned rather grey, and 
 went to find Stangerd, who was working 
 at a loom. 
 
 "Stangerd," she said, "there are men 
 coming up from the water." 
 
 Stangerd looked at her. "Berse will be 
 coming." Her blue eyes were large and 
 bright. 
 
 "Yes, I think Berse is there," said Stanvor, 
 "or what is left of him." 
 
 Stangerd grew suddenly red. "Is he dead ? 
 Is he dead?" 
 
 Stanvor said, "I am sure that he is 
 not. He is hurt, I believe." Then she 
 added: "I shall go to meet them. Or do 
 you go ?" 
 
 Stangerd said, "I shall not go. I knew 
 that this would come of it. He should 
 have taken me with him. I will not go." 
 
 Then Stanvor ran out of the house just 
 as she was and down the path to meet them. 
 
 Berse was in great torment, but heard 
 her coming from a long way off, and
 
 DOINGS AT THE THING 217 
 
 listened. "That's Slimlegs," he said. And 
 then he sighed, and turned away his head. 
 But he had a twinkle for her when she 
 came. No words passed between them; but 
 Stanvor walked beside the litter, with her 
 hand on it. And so Berse was carried into 
 his house.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 
 
 CTANVOR SLIMLEGS tended Berse 
 night and day, and only slept when 
 he slept — which was not often, because 
 he had fever and was light-headed with 
 it, and wandered in his wits. She grew 
 very thin and looked more than her age; 
 her eyes grew larger and lighter, as if they 
 would absorb danger from all about before 
 it could get at Berse. But she never failed, 
 and felt sure that she was not tired. From 
 the first Stangerd had withdrawn herself 
 and taken no part in the issue of the quarrel 
 — though she herself hardly knew why. 
 Her first thought when she heard of the 
 
 mishap was one of anger against her husband. 
 
 218
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 219 
 
 "I offered myself to save him from this. 
 He would not let me go with him. On his 
 head be it. I know very well what I can 
 do with men, and what I am worth. He 
 thought he knew better — and this is the end 
 of it." So she sat fuming while they were 
 bringing him in, and would not go to see 
 him. Stanvor had come to her to say that 
 he was put to bed, and that he had asked 
 where she was. "Well," she had replied, 
 "and you told him, I suppose?" Yes, 
 Stanvor said, she had told him. "And did 
 he ask you to come and fetch me ?" Stangerd 
 wanted to know. Stanvor said No, he did 
 not ask in so many words. "Let him 
 ask, then," Stangerd said. "He is not slow 
 to seek what he wants." 
 
 Stanvor, who was very grave, said that 
 the wound was bitter. "He is slit from 
 the buttock to the knee. He may limp 
 till his death-day." 
 
 Stangerd flamed and said, "He was 
 Battle-Berse when he took me. Now he
 
 220 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 is Buttock-Berse. I am wife to a maimed 
 man. Wife to Buttock-Berse." 
 
 Stanvor, looking scared and grave, left 
 her without another word, and she sat on 
 in the dusk by herself, twisting her white 
 fingers together in her lap. When it was 
 dark she got herself some supper, and made 
 a bed in the Bower, where she slept ever 
 after. 
 
 She was left very much to herself by some 
 sort of common consent among those of 
 the house and Berse's friends who came 
 to see him. Stanvor saw her on and off 
 during the days that followed, but offered 
 her no news, and was not asked for any. 
 But she did hear from common talk how 
 the fight had gone, and how Cormac had 
 taken some part in it. She did not praise 
 him for that. She said to herself, "That 
 was not done for love of me, or to get me. 
 It was done to spite Berse. Between them 
 these men bring me to shame. " Then she 
 looked at herself a long time in the glass.
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 221 
 
 She observed the sheen of her cheek where 
 the light caught the round of it; she felt 
 her smooth throat, and drew her hair between 
 her fingers and saw it like a mesh of 
 golden silk. She drew her gown tight across 
 her bosom, and said to herself: "Here 
 am I even as I am, jilted by a young man, 
 and bought by an old one who is lame of 
 one leg. What does this mean ? I was 
 taught to love without my asking; I was 
 married without my leave; and now I 
 am to be housewife to a limping dotard 
 just when my beauty is ripe. Here's a 
 pretty end to Cormac's songs; here's a 
 good use to make of the girdle of Fricka." 
 But she did not yet know what she could 
 do. She was resolved that she would not 
 stay with Berse, and clear that she could 
 not call Cormac to her. If he came of his 
 own will she might take him; but she would 
 want more wooing. Her heart was cool; 
 he must chafe it till it was hot again. 
 Sometimes she thought of calling Cormac
 
 222 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 in to help her; sometimes she turned to 
 her brother Toothgnasher. Finally she 
 decided that she would go by herself as the 
 law allowed her. There was one thing 
 against it. If she went she would leave 
 Stanvor alone with Berse, who almost 
 certainly would make her his third wife. 
 Now she told herself that it was no concern 
 of hers what became of either of the pair. 
 She had no quarrel with Stanvor, whom 
 she despised; but she felt that she might 
 be affected by it if they came together, 
 and did not wish to be affected by a girl 
 of whom she had so light an opinion. She 
 wished, on the whole, to go on despising 
 Stanvor. But you cannot despise a person 
 who makes you uneasy in your mind. 
 
 One day — it was towards evening — she 
 stopped Stanvor as she was carrying a warm 
 drink to Berse. 
 
 "Where are you going?" she said, 
 though she knew quite well. 
 
 Stanvor looked at her quietly, without
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 223 
 
 a flicker in her light blue eyes. "I am 
 going to take him this," she said, "and 
 then he will sleep." 
 
 Stangerd grew angry. "Him!' she said. 
 "He! You talk strangely, my girl. One 
 might think you talked of your husband 
 or lover, to hear you." 
 
 "No one would think so who knows us," 
 Stanvor said. "You at least know better." 
 
 "Do I know that he is not your lover, 
 that old man ?" 
 
 Yes, you know that." 
 I know that I found you here when 
 I was brought. You have been here ever 
 since. If I am to share a husband with 
 you, let him be a whole one, not a fragment." 
 
 Stanvor said now: "Forgive me if I leave 
 you. This gruel will get cold, and then he 
 will make a grimace and refuse it. I will 
 take it to him, and then come back and 
 listen to you." With that she went away. 
 
 tt
 
 44 
 4 t 
 
 224 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 When she came back she found Stangerd 
 in a cold rage. She stood quietly before 
 her with unfaltering eyes. Stangerd looked 
 all ways but hers, then broke out: 
 
 "What are you here for? Why are you 
 here?" 
 
 I thought that you had more to say." 
 No, no; there is nothing more to say. 
 You know all that is in my heart." 
 
 "If I knew that," said Stanvor, "I 
 should know more than you do." 
 
 "If I knew what was in your heart, 
 m Y gi r V Stangerd cried, "I should kill 
 you." 
 
 "No, indeed you would not," said 
 Stanvor. "You would be sorry for me." 
 With that she went about her business. 
 
 She lay on the floor below Berse's bed, 
 having covered herself with a bearskin. 
 She was awake, and listened to him grum- 
 bling and muttering to himself. 
 
 "There's no sense in it," said Berse. 
 "I'm an old fool for my pains. A great,
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 225 
 
 splendid, sizable girl beside a handy, vigorous 
 man — and a dead fire between them, cold 
 ashes." Then he stopped for a while, but 
 grunted as his pains shot in him. "A 
 pretty child, a pretty girl," he went on. 
 "All that the heart of a man could desire 
 — mine at a nod. But the other touches 
 my pride. I've always had what I wanted." 
 Then he dropped off to sleep, but Stanvor 
 lay with her eyes wide open, staring into 
 the dark corners. She was very excited. 
 Her heart was beating fast. But she was 
 so guarded that not even to herself would 
 she voice that which made her blood race 
 in her. And she would do nothing one 
 way or the other. 
 
 As the days wore on she knew that 
 Stangerd was busy about something. 
 Stangerd used to go out by herself, and was 
 away for a good many hours of the day. 
 One of the house-carles said that she had 
 been seen down by the firth talking to 
 Thorveig the spae-wife. Berse had given
 
 226 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 up asking about her. He was getting 
 better, and had begun to take notice of 
 Stanvor. One day he said to her, "You 
 ought to be married, sweetheart." 
 
 Stanvor's heart stood still, but she re- 
 covered herself. "Get well again, and we 
 can think about it." 
 
 "That I will," said Berse. "He'll be a 
 lucky fellow that gets you." 
 
 She turned away her head. 
 
 Then came the day when he could get 
 about the house. He came hobbling out 
 into the sun, leaning upon a stick and 
 Stanvor's shoulder. They came full upon 
 Stangerd, who was sunning herself in the 
 court. There were house-carles at work in 
 the outhouses. Stangerd clapped her hands 
 together, and when they looked up, she 
 called to them to come to her. Berse all 
 this time was shaking on his stick, watching 
 her, twitching his eyebrows. 
 
 When the men were standing about, 
 Stangerd, whose colour was like flame,
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 227 
 
 swept Berse into her talk with a stretched- 
 out arm. "Take notice, all of you, and 
 bear me witness," she said, "that I, Stan- 
 gerd, Thorkel's daughter, separate myself 
 from this half-man. He was called Battle- 
 Berse when I took him; but now he is 
 Buttock-Berse, and I will have nothing 
 to do with a blemished man. I separate 
 myself from him, and claim my liberty 
 and my goods. That is all I have to 
 say. 
 
 "Mistress," said Berse, who was very 
 still, leaning on his two sticks, "you have 
 said enough. Less would have served your 
 turn." Then he turned and left her, hobbling 
 along the flags in the sun with Stanvor 
 walking beside him. Stanvor held herself 
 as stiffly as a young birch-tree. Not a word 
 upon the scene passed between them: Berse 
 talked gently and quietly, and Stanvor 
 helped him all she could.
 
 << T> 
 
 228 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 That same day Stangerd left him and 
 rode down to the water. She went home 
 to her own people. Berse made no effort 
 to stop her, and when she was gone he 
 called Stanvor to him and took her in his 
 arms. She came readily. 
 
 "It's you and me now, sweetheart," he 
 said. 
 
 I'm ready," she said. 
 
 Do you mean that?" said Berse, holding 
 her close. "Have you no pride?" 
 
 "I have a great deal," she said. "But 
 I gave it to you long ago." 
 
 Berse kissed her, but immediately put 
 her down. 
 
 "If I have your pride to keep, I'll use 
 it to the best advantage. You and I will 
 keep our distance of each other for a while 
 longer. We must see what that termagant 
 does next. She is a fine woman — I never 
 saw a finer — but some fiend is in her. Let 
 him take her. She is nothing to me now." 
 
 "She is beautiful," Stanvor said. 
 
 a
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 229 
 
 Berse regarded her. "Yes," he said, "so 
 she is — as a field of corn full of red poppy 
 is a goodly sight. But there's the less corn, 
 there's the less nourishment for the husband- 
 man. Now in your little slim body, in your 
 kitten face and great blue eyes there may 
 be the joy of a man's days and nights. Wait 
 till I can get about again, and we'll see what 
 can be done." 
 
 Stanvor said, "I am yours when you 
 want me. I have always been that." 
 
 Things went quietly for a few days; but 
 Stanvor was aware that Berse often looked 
 at her when he thought she did not know 
 anything about it. She smiled to herself 
 and kept a good heart. By and by, before 
 the winter had come, and no tidings yet 
 from Stangerd's kin, Berse stopped in front 
 of Stanvor and said, "I am minded to 
 take a child in fostership. It will be good 
 for you, and the money will be kept for 
 you when you want it. What do you say 
 to this, sweetheart ?"
 
 230 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Stanvor said, "I say what you say. 
 What child have you in mind ?" 
 
 "I shall take Anlaf Hoskil's son Haldor," 
 said Berse. "A good, strong boy, more 
 than twelve years old. He shall be in your 
 fostership and sleep in your bed." 
 
 Stanvor said, "Very well; I'll do my 
 best with him." 
 
 * 
 
 So that was done. Haldor was a bold 
 lad, saucy, and forward for his age. Stanvor 
 got very fond of him, and he of her. He 
 learned of her to consider Berse the greatest 
 paragon in Iceland. Berse, except for a 
 slight limp, was now as well as ever he had 
 been, and amused himself that winter by 
 teaching Haldor how to exercise himself. 
 He showed him the use of the sword, the 
 bill, the axe, and the spear; he gave him 
 horses to ride, and made him swim in the 
 river every day. Haldor was a rough boy
 
 STANGERD FREES HERSELF 231 
 
 when he came, but this sort of work made 
 him as fierce as a young man. Stanvor 
 used to talk to him every night about Berse's 
 gentleness and good temper. Between them 
 they were in a fair way to make a man of 
 Haldor.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 
 
 ^^OW in the Spring Thorkel Toothgnasher, 
 who was Stangerd's brother, came up 
 to Sowerby and asked for Berse. He 
 had a man called Wale with him, a red- 
 haired, broken-nosed man with a very shiny 
 face. Stanvor saw them, and said that 
 Berse was from home. They said that they 
 would wait, and sat down in the hall. 
 Stanvor served them with drink, and Tooth- 
 gnasher, before his draught, looked at her 
 over the rim of the horn. 
 
 "You had something to do with my 
 sister's flitting, little mistress, I think." 
 
 "Nothing that I know of," said Stanvor. 
 
 232
 
 a 
 it' 
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 233 
 
 "She told Berse why she was going. I 
 heard her." 
 
 "Did she not tell you another reason?" 
 No," said Stanvor. 
 
 What ! Was she not jealous of you 
 for ever about her husband ?" 
 
 Stanvor said, "She could have tended 
 him herself if she had cared. Then I should 
 have kept away. I never did anything 
 that she offered to do. She will never tell 
 you that she was jealous of me." 
 
 Toothgnasher said, "Well, it's strange 
 if a man don't know his sister's mind." 
 
 "It is strange," Stanvor agreed; "but 
 it seems to be your case." 
 
 Toothgnasher had no more to say. Then 
 Wale, having drained his horn, said 
 slyly: "Old Berse likes pretty girls about 
 him." 
 
 "Ah," said Toothgnasher, taking him up, 
 "a man must pay for his pleasures." 
 
 Haldor was listening to all this, sitting 
 by the fire, nursing his foot. He frowned.
 
 234 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "Do you think he would pay such as you 
 two are ?" he said. 
 Wale started. "How now, you little 
 
 egg?" 
 
 "You will see," said Haldor. "My 
 foster-father will make short work with 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, be done!" said Toothgnasher, and 
 turned again to Stanvor. "You, mistress," 
 he said, "were an inmate of Thorarin's 
 house once upon a time?" 
 
 "Yes," said Stanvor, "very much against 
 my will." 
 
 "Thorarin paid Berse for that," said 
 Wale. "He did so." 
 
 Stanvor answered quietly, "Yes, he paid 
 with his life, and the life of his sons." 
 
 "And now it is Berse's turn to pay," 
 said Toothgnasher, very red. 
 
 Just then Berse came in and greeted the 
 strangers civilly. 
 
 Toothgnasher at once opened his affair. 
 He desired the bride-price and the dowry
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 235 
 
 of Stangerd, who had declared that she 
 would not be the wife of a maimed man. 
 Berse sat and twiddled his thumbs, while 
 Stanvor, kneeling, took his boots off. 
 
 "I don't pay," said Berse. "I'm as well 
 as ever I was in my life, and could marry 
 a dozen like Stangerd if I had a mind. 
 But I have not. I'm as pleased as daylight 
 that she has taken herself off; but I won't 
 pay, and that's flat." 
 
 "It is much too flat for us," said Tooth- 
 gnasher. "You shall fight me for that, 
 Berse." 
 
 "So I will," says Berse. 
 
 Toothgnasher got up. "Wager-of-battle 
 at the holm by Tiltness it shall be." 
 
 "So it shall, then," Berse said. "You'll 
 be making little of me, I daresay, such a 
 stout man as you be grown; but I shall be 
 there for you." 
 
 Then Wale had something to say. His 
 eyes were bright, but he was rather short 
 of breath. "If I were to come to you,
 
 236 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Berse, with money in my hand, and ask for 
 that young girl in marriage, what would 
 you say to me ?" 
 
 Berse, twinkling, looked about for Stanvor. 
 She stood in the shadow, but he saw her 
 steady eyes, very watchful. He smiled and 
 nodded to her. 
 
 "I should say that you were too late in 
 the day," he told Wale. Everybody was 
 tense and quiet. Everybody spoke shortly, 
 and those who did not speak held themselves 
 in waiting for something. 
 
 "I don't care much for that answer," 
 Wale said. 
 
 "It's all you will get from me," says 
 Berse; "but you may ask her, if you 
 please." 
 
 Wale said that he should ask her. "And 
 I'll ask Ord, her injured parent," he said, 
 growing angry. "You reckoned to do him 
 a service when you took her out of Gutdale 
 and gave Thorarin his death-blow — but what 
 have you done ? You have turned a
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 237 
 
 pretty girl into a byword with your snug 
 
 vices. 
 
 Stanvor said, "You lie. He has been 
 more than good to me." 
 
 Berse said, "Get you gone, the pair of 
 you, and do your worst." 
 
 "By my head," Toothgnasher said, "I'll 
 get me gone, as you say, but I'll do my 
 worst beforehand." 
 
 With that he reached back for his bill 
 and hewed at Berse. Haldor slipped into 
 the fray with Whiting, and saved Berse's 
 life. He cut in like a flash of lightning, 
 and knocked the bill sideways. Then he 
 handed Berse the sword, and Berse in his 
 stocking feet engaged with Toothgnasher. 
 Haldor took down a spear from the wall, 
 and stood leaning on it to watch the fight. 
 It was long and arduous. Toothgnasher had 
 a great reach and was very active. Berse 
 could not get in at him at all. 
 
 Stanvor stood where she was, in the 
 shadow of the great hearth, and was so
 
 238 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 intent upon the battle that she did not see 
 what Wale was about. He had got behind 
 her to the door which led to the Bower, 
 and suddenly threw his cloak over her head 
 and drew it across her mouth so that she could 
 not cry out. Holding that fast in one hand, 
 he put the other about her body, lifted her 
 and turned to take her out by the back door. 
 
 Haldor saw him and went after him. 
 He caught him just by the door and drove 
 his spear into the middle of his back. That 
 was his death-blow; he fell forward on to 
 the top of Stanvor, and there he lay. She 
 lay quiet, too, until Haldor got the cloak 
 off her head. Then the two of them went 
 back to see what was being done. They 
 found Berse wiping the blade of Whiting. 
 
 "Hot and dirty work," said Berse; "but 
 there lies Toothgnasher." 
 
 Haldor said, "Foster-father, I have killed 
 a man. I have killed Wale." 
 
 "Have you so?" said Berse. "What 
 did you do that for?"
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 239 
 
 Haldor told him. Then said Berse, 'You 
 have done well, my lad. Now get we these 
 two without the house; and then we'll 
 have supper, and then we'll go to bed." So 
 they dragged out of doors Toothgnasher 
 and Wale and covered them decently with 
 a cloth. 
 
 When they came back they found that 
 Stanvor and the women had set the table. 
 They had supper, and Stanvor waited upon 
 Berse as she had always done. 
 
 But towards the end, Berse, who had said 
 nothing, told Stanvor to fetch another jug 
 of mead. When she brought it and had 
 filled his horn, he held it up and said to 
 her, "Drink of it, sweetheart." 
 
 "Why should I drink?" she asked him, 
 smiling shyly. 
 
 "Drink to the night," said Berse. So 
 she put her lips to the horn, and gave it back 
 to him. Berse drained it. 
 
 He said no more, but sent Haldor to bed, 
 and sat by the fire, knitting and clearing
 
 240 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 his brows. Stanvor was at work upon 
 embroidery on the other side of the hearth. 
 When the time came, she put the work 
 away in its place, and came to Berse to say 
 good-night. He put his arm round her, 
 and kept her there. 
 
 Presently he said, "Two wives have I 
 had, and intend for a third. What do you 
 say to that, sweetheart?" 
 
 "I say what you say," she replied, looking 
 down at him; for he sat in his chair while 
 she stood over him. 
 
 "My first wife was very well. They 
 called her a paragon, but I don't know. 
 We fell out now and then about trifles. She 
 had a quick temper, and was very par- 
 ticular. Myself, I'm a careless sort of man, 
 always in scrapes. She could not bear that. 
 She liked the same things to take place at 
 the same hour every day. Now, they never 
 did with me, and never will. However, we 
 made a shift to get on. Then there was 
 Stangerd. I don't know what had warped
 
 TOOTHGNASHER 241 
 
 her; but I was a fool to be talked over. 
 Ah, and a fool to be taken by her good 
 looks when I had a better beside me. But 
 when I told you I was going to take her, 
 what did you say? You said: 'Well and 
 good, master.' Now why did you say that ?' 
 
 She still smiled, tolerantly and wisely, 
 and still looked down kindly at him. 
 "Because you must always do as you like," 
 she said. 
 
 "And so I will," he said, "and you shall 
 marry me, sweetheart, when you will." 
 
 "I will marry you now," she said. He 
 got up and took her in his arms. She stood 
 on tiptoe and raised him her face. He 
 kissed her long, and feeling her fierce young 
 body against his, he laughed for joy, and 
 said: "All's well that ends well. Come, 
 sweetheart, I'm not too old to teach you 
 the way of marriage." 
 
 She said, "You'll teach me little, Berse." 
 
 Berse said, "We'll see." 
 
 In the morning Haldor asked her where
 
 242 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 she had been all night. She smiled with 
 her eyes, and kissed him. "I was at a 
 wedding," she said. 
 
 "Whose wedding was that?" asked 
 Haldor. 
 
 She kissed him again; and then he under- 
 stood, and kissed her. 
 
 The tale has no more to say of Battle- 
 Berse.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 
 
 ^JOW back wt go to Tongue on Midfirth 
 to see what was going on there. 
 StangercTs father was not overjoyed to have 
 her back again at home, but he said that 
 she had been very right to leave Sowerby 
 and a husband who put her to ridicule. 
 He was sanguine, too, that she would get 
 her property back either by a pleading at 
 the Thing or by Berse's sense of justice; 
 but his son Toothgnasher thought differently, 
 and as the season wore away, it seemed 
 that Toothgnasher was right. Then came 
 the battle in Berse's house, and the end of 
 Toothgnasher and Wale. Thorkel took that 
 
 hardly, and showed Stangerd by his dealing 
 
 243
 
 244 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 that he put some of the blame upon her. 
 He now talked of ransom and the need 
 of a champion to take up his quarrel. He 
 talked more than once of Cormac as of the 
 right man in the right place, as the natural 
 champion of his family, and all the rest 
 of it. Stangerd said nothing, but remained 
 handsome, silent, and self-possessed as she 
 had always been. Yet there's no doubt but 
 she expected Cormac to come, and looked 
 for him every day. 
 
 But he did not come, though he was known 
 to be at home and at work about his house 
 and fields. Narve had seen him, and had 
 even hailed him from afar off; but as Cormac 
 made no sign of access, the timid man had 
 not cared to pass the time of day with 
 him, or to slip in the news which was so 
 much in Thorkel's mouth just now. 
 
 But it must needs be that Cormac knew of 
 her return: in fact, he did know it, for his 
 brother had told him. He took the news 
 quietly; he was fallen very glum of late,
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 245 
 
 and made no more poetry. He went on 
 with his work as if there was no such person 
 as Stangerd in the world — and then he 
 began to get restless again, and irritable. 
 He lost his temper with things (not with 
 persons), and could not stay long at one 
 job. Then, in the late summer, suddenly, he 
 told his brother that he thought of going 
 to sea. He said that there was a ship in 
 the firth to be had at a moderate figure. He 
 would get some stuff together, and a crew, 
 and go off trading to Norway. Maybe they 
 could do some raiding: he wouldn't say, 
 but they might go to Ireland. 
 
 Thorgils said that he would go too, and 
 as soon as the gear could be got on board 
 and the men found; but nothing much 
 was done until the early winter. Not a word, 
 so far, of Stangerd — not a word ! 
 
 $ $ 7f * # 
 
 But by this time news had come to 
 Midfirth that Berse had married Stanvor 
 Slimlegs, and had made himself very
 
 246 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 comfortable, being perfectly recovered of 
 his slit buttock. He had fortified his house 
 with a great wall of stone and turf, and it 
 was thought that Stanvor was going to 
 give him a son. Thorkel was in a fine way 
 over these tales, and went about saying 
 that he had fallen on evil days and that 
 Iceland was no longer the home for free 
 men or honest men. If a man could turn 
 his wife out of the house at a moment's 
 notice, kill her brother and take a new wife, 
 and no call to be made upon him — what 
 were we coming to ? Narve's teeth chattered, 
 and he said it was very dreadful. 
 
 The upshot was that Thorold Tinsmith 
 came into the story: a well-to-do man of 
 large presence and a comely, fair beard, 
 which lay upon his chest like a force of water. 
 He was always fondling it, and had a trick 
 of squeezing it up in his hand so that he 
 could make a brush of the end of it, and 
 brush his nose with it. He had flat, light 
 blue eyes, and spoke slowly and gravely.
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 247 
 
 A rich man, one of the Skiddings of Fleet, 
 a widower without children, an excellent 
 tinsmith. After a great deal of debating 
 with his brother Thorvard and his neigh- 
 bours, he took boat and sailed into 
 Midfirth. 
 
 He stayed the night on board, and rode 
 up next day, with his brother and a couple 
 more witnesses and tokeners, to see Thorkel. 
 The day was spent in talking. He saw 
 nothing of Stangerd till the evening meal, 
 when she came out in white — just as she 
 had been when Cormac first set eyes upon 
 her — and served the table. She was, maybe, 
 more matronly than she had been then. 
 Experience had made her more sedate. 
 There was no spying through Hagbard's 
 eyes, no tip-toe work behind the hangings: 
 but then there was no seer to view her feet 
 and no singer to cry upon her starry beauty. 
 The grave, portly tinsmith hardly looked at 
 her; and when she had gone to bed, and 
 the men drew closer together to bicker
 
 248 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the thing to an end, and Thorkel began 
 to vaunt her as a wonder of the world, 
 Thorwald roundly said that one wife was as 
 good as another to him, so far as her looks 
 went. A wife, he said, should be well found 
 in money and other movables, a good 
 breeder, and handy in the house. She must 
 have a pleasant nature and not be always 
 asking the reason of things. It might easily 
 happen, he said, that a man did not know, 
 or have at call, the reason for something 
 said or done, or required to be done. He 
 did not care — nor was it convenient — that 
 he should have to own up to ignorance. It 
 made him look foolish; moreover, it might 
 lead to debate, and bring endless confusion 
 in the household. For everything he said 
 he appealed to his brother Thorvard for 
 confirmation. Thorvard confirmed him every 
 time; and the end of it was that they were 
 too many for Thorkel, who found himself 
 asking them to take Stangerd off his hands, 
 offering to make good the gear which she
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 249 
 
 had left behind her at Sowerby, and to add 
 more to it. With these terms the tinsmith 
 was content, and said that he would talk 
 to Stangerd next day. 
 
 When her father told her what was forward, 
 she gloomed and said nothing for a time, 
 neither assenting nor refusing. Presently 
 she began to breathe quickly, as if thought 
 troubled her breast. And then she said: 
 "It is a strange thing to me that I am so 
 unhappy in my dealings with men. See 
 that little pale slip of a thing, Stanvor: 
 she has been made happy with what I 
 despised. See Cormac, who loved me first 
 — what have I done — what did I do — 
 that he should treat me so ? It seems 
 to me that a girl's good looks are her 
 bad fortune. I wish I had never been 
 born." 
 
 Thorkel had little comfort for her. 
 "Thorwald," he told her, "thinks nothing 
 of your looks. He is a peaceful man who 
 wants to be quiet. If you let him alone,
 
 250 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 he will let you alone. What more do 
 you want ?" 
 
 "I don't want to be let alone by the man 
 I marry," she said. "I don't marry to be 
 let alone." 
 
 "Then you ought to have married Cormac," 
 Thorkel told her. There was more; but 
 in the end she dried her eyes and consented 
 to see the tinsmith. 
 
 * 
 
 Thorwald stroked his fine beard as he 
 looked at her the next day. She stood up 
 before him, but he did not at first think it 
 necessary to rise from the bench. 
 
 "So, Stangerd, it seems you are inclined 
 to try again," he said. "Well, I am not 
 one who says that a woman is the worse for 
 experience. Far from it. Now, let me speak 
 to you of myself, for I would not have you 
 say afterwards that I had deceived you, or 
 hear you tell me that you separate yourself
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 251 
 
 from me on that account. I am a well-to- 
 do man of quiet and ruminating temper. 
 I do not jump at a thing. I like to turn 
 it over and about. You must not expect 
 me to be always fondling and kissing. I 
 have many irons in the fire, and when my 
 mind is occupied, I expect to be let alone. 
 All in good time, and a time for every- 
 thing is my favourite saying. I have turned 
 off many a trouble by the use of that lore. 
 I have a good house, and many people about 
 it, one way and another. You will have 
 half a dozen women to oversee, and there 
 are house-carles and labourers and shepherds. 
 It is well stored, and I choose to have a 
 generous table; yet I love thrift and detest 
 wastefulness. My brother Thorvard lives 
 with us. He will please you: he can be 
 very merry at times, and sings a good song. 
 So do I, for that matter, but I don't profess 
 to be a skald. I hope we shall be very 
 happy together, and don't doubt of it if 
 you remember that I am a serious man
 
 252 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 who has no time for trifling or outbreaks of 
 temper." 
 
 Then he got up and, putting one hand 
 upon her shoulder, put the other under her 
 chin. Lifting her face, he looked kindly 
 into her beautiful stormy eyes, and then 
 kissed her. 
 
 Stangerd had never been wooed after 
 this sort, and her heart was like lead within 
 her. She had, indeed, no heart wherewith 
 to fling away from such a suitor; but she 
 was very near to tears. She was as lovely 
 as ever she had been, and yet the light 
 seemed to have left her, so that she was 
 anybody's for the picking up. But she had 
 lost her spirit. Cormac, perhaps, had got 
 that: she didn't know, and didn't care. 
 She allowed her lips to the tinsmith; she 
 faltered that she would do her best; and 
 then she went away. 
 
 Within a short time she was married to 
 him, and knew the best and worst of him. 
 He, for his part, might as well have married
 
 THORWALD THE TINSMITH 253 
 
 a block of wood; but he neither knew nor 
 cared what she was made of. 
 
 They were married at ThorkePs house, 
 and there they stayed for the mid-winter 
 season. Then, suddenly, one day, Cormac 
 came to the house and saw her again.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 
 
 CHE hadn't seen him since the day of 
 her first bridal, the day when Berse 
 brought her home into Sowerby. They had 
 parted in unkindness, and it seems that 
 they were to meet so; for her first feeling 
 in her discontent was of hot rage against 
 him as the maker of it. Her eyes were 
 angry, and her cheek-bones were angry; she 
 sat where she was by the fire with her 
 needlework still in her lap, and watched 
 him, waiting for him to speak. 
 
 Cormac, also, at first said nothing to her. 
 He stood framed in the doorway, wryly 
 smiling, frowning with one eyebrow. He 
 
 254
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 255 
 
 considered her as a painter considers his 
 unfinished work, whistling in his teeth as 
 he wonders where he shall begin. Words 
 and phrases sang and danced in his head, 
 as he absorbed her again. Then he said, 
 "Stangerd, you are like a morning in April, 
 when the sun is breaking through the rain, 
 and thinning it into mist. If I could stand 
 always at this distance from you, Stangerd, 
 and look at you like this, I should make 
 songs which would be the music of all Iceland. 
 But I can't, and you know that I can't, keep 
 so far from you now, after what has been 
 between you and me; and so I am going 
 away from you, my golden wonder, and 
 will put the blue water between us. What 
 do you say to that ?" 
 
 He spoke lightly and mockingly, or so 
 she felt it. She governed herself therefore, 
 so that he should never guess that she was 
 unhappy. She picked up her needlework 
 and took a stitch or two, as she said, "You 
 will do as you please, I suppose. It is what
 
 256 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 you have always done. When will you 
 sail?" 
 
 "Not yet, not yet," he said. Then he 
 came into the hall and stood near her, right 
 over her. "So you tired of Berse, and 
 have taken another husband?" 
 
 She said nothing to that. "By and by," 
 he went on, "you may be willing to have me." 
 
 That time she could not answer him. He 
 was hurting her. 
 
 He sat down beside her, and picked up 
 an edge of the shift she was hemming. "I 
 remember very well, when you and I were 
 plighted, that I used to say you should be 
 much married. You didn't like it. It made 
 you angry. But you have done it. You 
 are much married; and now it is I who 
 don't like it. Do you remember that, 
 Stangerd ?" 
 
 She nodded, but could not look at him. 
 
 "I don't like it at all," he went on; "but 
 I will tell you this — believe it or not as you 
 will. When I wished to see you with many
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 257 
 
 lovers, many husbands, Stangerd, I loved 
 you much better than I do now." 
 
 A large tear rolled down her cheek, and 
 hung there, until it fell into her needlework. 
 Cormac saw it gather and drop, but he did 
 not alter his manner. 
 
 "I am going with my brother Thorgils to 
 Norway," he told her; "but I thought that 
 I would come to see you again before I went. 
 What are you making there?" 
 
 She told him — a shift. 
 
 "It is for yourself? You will wear it?" 
 
 "I suppose so," she said. "Why do 
 you ask me ?" 
 
 He said, "It would be strange if I was 
 not interested in anything which will be 
 as near to you as this linen. It would be 
 strange if I felt very friendly-disposed 
 towards it." 
 
 "You need not tumble it in your hands, 
 at least," she said. 
 
 "I feel as if I were feeling about for a 
 grip at its windpipe," he said, then stopped
 
 258 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 himself with a short laugh, and let go 
 of it. 
 
 "Will you do me a service?" he asked 
 her. 
 
 "What do you want me to do ?" 
 
 "That linen you are stitching would make 
 me a shirt to wear over my mail. Will you 
 make it for me instead of yourself?" 
 
 She looked at him quickly. "Are you 
 going to wear mail ? Are you going 
 Viking?" 
 
 His eyes laughed. "I think so," he said; 
 "like my father before me — but not by any 
 means for so good a reason." 
 
 "What was your father's reason?" she 
 asked him; and he told her. 
 
 "He was a man of large mind and great 
 passions. He felt that the world lay to 
 the hand of the man who could handle it. 
 He said that the might followed the mind. 
 He was restless, and cramped in this country 
 of stony hills and narrow dales and strait 
 seas. The fire burned in him and he gave
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 259 
 
 it vent. He went far and did greatly; he 
 went often, and at last he never came back. 
 But he died as he had lived, greatly." 
 
 She thought that very fine, and expected 
 much the same answer to her next question; 
 but she did not get it. 
 
 "And what is your reason ?" 
 
 "My reason is that I may forget that you 
 ever lived and made me suffer," he said 
 plainly. 
 
 She bit her lips, and her eyes filled with 
 smarting tears. 
 
 "You are ungenerous. You are a coward 
 to say so. And it is not at all true. I was 
 living at Nupdale when you came there. 
 I could not know that you were coming, 
 or who you were that came. You saw me, 
 and after that never left me alone. You 
 taught me to love you — and then you left 
 me, when you had made your songs about 
 me. That was all you wanted out of me, 
 I see very well. Well, go now, and make 
 your songs of whom you will."
 
 260 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He stood over her now, dark with rage. 
 " Song ! Song ! What song is left in me ? 
 What have I left to sing of? The glory of 
 song is departed from me. Once I had it 
 like a running water in me, a well-spring 
 that never ran dry. Then you came and 
 dipped your hands in it, and it flowed all 
 about you as if it would carry you away 
 to the sea. And then it slept. It went when 
 you were false to me." 
 
 And now she jumped up, flaming. "I 
 was never false to you. I was never false. 
 You are lying. It was you who tired of me, 
 and left me in the lurch on my wedding- 
 day. I sat alone here in my crown, with 
 my maids, waiting for you — and you did 
 not come. Now go to sea or where you 
 will — but leave me. I will never make a 
 shirt for you, so long as I live." 
 
 There where she stood, all flushed and 
 splendid in her fury, he came to her and 
 took her in his arms. Before she could 
 stop him he had kissed her twice, roughly
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 261 
 
 and fiercely. Then she broke away, and 
 left him without another word. 
 
 But when she came back more than an 
 hour later, he was still there in the same 
 place. She stiffened her neck and squared 
 her shoulders. 
 
 "I required you to go," she said, "but 
 you are still here. What sort of conduct 
 is this, do you think ? My father and my 
 husband will be here soon, and there will 
 be more trouble on your account. Has 
 there not been enough ?" 
 
 Cormac said, "Stangerd, I can't go until 
 you forgive me. I acted badly, I am very 
 sorry." 
 
 "You forgot yourself," she said; "but 
 I shan't bear a grudge. Go in peace." 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I will go. But I shall 
 see you again." 
 
 "You cannot," she told him. "Thorwald 
 will be angry." 
 
 "That makes no matter," he said, "so 
 long as you are not angry."
 
 262 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 She said, "Ah, but I shall be very angry 
 if you use me so." She spoke more kindly. 
 
 "I will not," he said. "I will not touch 
 you again, unless I go mad again." 
 
 "That's no promise at all," she said. 
 
 "When you are angry," he said, "I 
 want you more than ever I did in my life. 
 And you call up something in me which 
 must subdue you at all costs. That's the 
 way of it. Fire calls to fire, and the two 
 burn and leap together." 
 
 She was grave now, and shook her head. 
 "This must not be," she said. "I shall 
 go away from here as soon as I can." 
 
 "You will do no good by that. I shall 
 find you." 
 
 "I hope you will not try." 
 
 "I also hope so. I could not be happy 
 with you if I had you — nor you with me." 
 
 "Cormac," she said, and touched his arm, 
 "you must learn to do without me. It is 
 not to be. Now I see very well that it was 
 true what your brother Thorgils said when
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 263 
 
 he was here that day — when you were not. 
 He said that the spae-wife had put a spell 
 upon our plighting, that you and I could 
 never come together. And it is true; we 
 have not, and we shall not." 
 
 He seized both her hands. "Stangerd, 
 come now — come with me ! I am parent 
 with thirst." 
 
 She tried to get away. "No, no, no! 
 You can never drink of me." 
 
 He implored her, he raved; but she was 
 ready for him now. She was kind, but she 
 would do nothing. Then she heard her 
 people coming in, and told him to go. He 
 said he would not unless she kissed him. 
 She did it, but not as he wished. 
 
 He went out, brushing by Thorkel and 
 Thorwald, who were coming in to dinner. 
 He took no notice whatever of them; but 
 Thorwald asked who he was. 
 
 Thorkel said shortly, "That's a man 
 whom I don't want to see any more. That 
 is Black Cormac of Melstead, a dangerous
 
 264 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 man. He has been after Stangerd, you may 
 be sure. Now you must deal quietly with 
 that man, or you will be sorry for it. He 
 has brought more troubles to this house 
 than enough." 
 
 Thorwald brushed his nose with the golden 
 end of his beard and was silent through 
 dinner. Afterwards he asked Stangerd 
 about Cormac. She told him that he was 
 going abroad and had come to say good-bye. 
 
 Thorwald said he was glad to know 
 that. "He was not very civil to Thorkel 
 or to me." 
 
 "He had no reason to be," Stangerd said 
 rather shortly. 
 
 Thorwald said, "You surprise me. 
 What, is he to treat your husband like so 
 much brushwood?" 
 
 "He is a man," Stangerd replied, "who 
 treats other men as he finds them. If they 
 are friendly, so is he; if unfriendly, he is 
 more so. If they are indifferent, so is he." 
 
 "But," said Thorwald, "I was not in-
 
 CORMAC COMES BACK 265 
 
 different — though he was. How could I be 
 indifferent to the men who come to visit 
 you ?" 
 
 "You had better learn to be indifferent 
 when Cormac comes," she said. 
 
 Thorwald was very surprised, and brushed 
 his nose a long time, until she asked him 
 to cease. 
 
 "And why, pray, am I to cease?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She said, "Because I ask it." 
 
 He found the reason bad. "Nobody has 
 ever asked me that before." 
 
 She said, "I hope that I shan't have 
 to ask it again." 
 
 He considered this answer. "It's a little 
 trick I have," he said. 
 
 She replied, "It's a little trick I 
 don't like. It makes you look very 
 foolish." 
 
 "Nobody," he said, "has ever told me 
 so before." 
 
 "I wish that somebody had," said she,
 
 266 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "for then it would not have been for me 
 to tell you." 
 
 He drew himself up and squared his 
 shoulders. "Do you think it seemly to 
 tell your husband that he looks foolish?" 
 
 She returned to her seat by the fire and 
 her sewing. "I think it more seemly," 
 she said, "than that he should continue to 
 look so."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 STANGERD GOES TO THE FLEET 
 
 ^^OW the poet of whom I spoke a long 
 time ago as having his own idea of 
 Cormac's affair, singing about his troth 
 broken on his wedding-day, says: 
 
 " But of this matter, when Cormac, 
 Betroth'd, handfasted as he was, 
 Lover accepted, yet drew back 
 At the last hour, a thing unchancy — 
 Witch-finders hint at spell or curse 
 Upon the plighting. Each man has 
 His own curse in him, and my fancy 
 Sees Cormac storing her to heart 
 To sing about in sounding verse, 
 Making a goddess of a lass, 
 Not better but so much the worse 
 The more herself has art and part 
 In the business. Call this nigromancy 
 
 267
 
 268 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Done by the spae-wife out of spite — 
 I tell you, Love's a tricksy sprite 
 For poets' bosoms. Love says, Kiss 
 Your well-belov'd, she'll kiss again, 
 Apt pupil; but it's also true 
 The more you kiss, the more you strain 
 Together, the less lover you, 
 And the more she. Skald's wisdom is 
 To love apart, since love is pain 
 At all events, howe'er you do; 
 And out of pain that Song cometh 
 The which you live by, as by bread 
 Live some, and other some by kiss 
 (As women all). Where there are two, 
 And one a poet, one must rue. 
 Here it was Stangerd, as the case is 
 Whene'er a girl accepts the embraces 
 Of poet-lover." 
 
 And he's right, there's no doubt. But 
 Cormac could not be expected to know that. 
 
 What puzzled the young man, however, 
 was this, that he felt happier, more uplifted, 
 as he went away from Stangerd than he 
 had known himself to be when he was with 
 her. In her presence all the wicked feelings 
 which beset mankind had been about him
 
 STANGERD GOES TO THE FLEET 269 
 
 — rage, greed, grudging, jealousy, and the 
 rest of them. Her beauty had made his 
 heart blacker; the more he needed her the 
 less fit he felt himself to touch the border 
 of her gown. But now he had left her, the 
 clouds parted, and she shone dazzling like 
 the sun in the blue sky. To love her was 
 not only reasonable, but it was a career. 
 It was food and drink, occupation and 
 fame. It was a fire within him which would 
 never go out — unless he saw her. Strange 
 freak of fate that he could only love her 
 when he didn't see her ! 
 
 He was happier than he had been for a 
 year or more. He began to sing again, 
 naturally, like a bird. 
 
 "Ah, now indeed I have her — now 
 When I am leaving her for good. 
 For good ? Ah, yes, for now I know 
 What Christians call their heavenly food. 
 You see no flesh, you taste no blood, 
 The holy flake shines like the snow; 
 The sweet thin wine has the red flow, 
 But not the salt that drencht the Rood.
 
 270 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 Now I have feasted as I would 
 And go my way with a full heart: 
 Stangerd and I shall never part 
 If I can keep this holy mood." 
 
 And in this mood he remained for the rest 
 of the day, finding himself strong enough 
 to think of her without needing to see or 
 to touch her. 
 
 In the mornl: : he found himself down 
 on the lees again, and life a brackish flat 
 business unless there was a hope of seeing 
 Stangerd. But he fought with himself, and 
 to such purpose that he set a day for sailing 
 and kept to it. 
 
 They all went aboard, men and horses, 
 and headed for the Floe with a fair wind 
 on their quarter. That was four or five days 
 after he had seen Stangerd; but meantime 
 Thorwald had taken her off to Fleet. 
 
 He took her off the very next day; in 
 fact, after his unceremonious meeting with 
 Cormac in the entry of the house. He 
 got the whole story out of Thorkel that
 
 STANGERD GOES TO THE FLEET 271 
 
 night, and the more of it he got the less 
 he liked it. It wasn't so much that he 
 shirked an encounter with Cormac, even 
 though he was not much of a fighter. He 
 explained to Thorkel how he felt about it. 
 
 "Stangerd," he said, "was very short 
 with me after Cormac had been with her. 
 No man cares to be thought tiresome. I 
 am not at all accustomed to it; I have 
 always been treated with respect. I am a 
 weighty, sententious man, and I know it. 
 But if these handsome, flashing poets get 
 about a young woman, she is dazzled. She 
 fills herself with their heady drink, their 
 spiced food, and turns up her nose at the 
 good roast or soused, at the good white 
 bread or curdy cheese upon which the body 
 is built up. It is so. I wish my wife to 
 admire me. Is that so extraordinary ? She 
 will be happier if she can do it, and so shall 
 I be. Now when I was talking to her about 
 her Cormac, I noticed that little tricks of 
 mine with the beard seemed to vex her.
 
 272 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 I have an uncommon beard: it has often 
 been noticed. But all she had to say of it 
 was to ask me not to brush my nose with 
 it. That was distressing. It can't go on 
 like this. Within the first few days of a 
 man's married life, to feel that a man is 
 ridiculous in his wife's eyes intimidates 
 a man." 
 
 So he took her away to Fleet, a long way 
 from Midfirth, where there is more open 
 water; and there she began her house- 
 keeping.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 
 
 QORMAC'S ship Raven had a fair way 
 over the Floe, and made Skaganess 
 on one tack. But past the Ness they 
 were as good as in the open sea; the wind 
 freshened and blew from the south-east. 
 They thought it well to stand inshore, and 
 found smooth water at once, and plenty of 
 it. Drangey showed up before the night 
 fell, and as they were in strange waters, 
 they decided to seek a haven there for the 
 night. They found a good harbour with a 
 sandy bottom on the west of the island 
 and lay as snug as fish in the sea. 
 
 Next day they crossed the frith and coasted 
 
 up the further shore. The mountains come 
 
 273
 
 274 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 right down to the sea on that shore, and 
 the lower slopes of them are covered with 
 wood. Cormac sat on deck looking at this 
 magic country of rocks and thin, grey stems. 
 The sunlight was like mist between them, 
 and above they were blushing with the 
 rising sap. 
 
 Then, on a sudden, as he looked his heart 
 stood still. He saw a woman in a blue 
 cloak riding through the trees. Her head 
 was bare, and her hair shone like gold. He 
 went white, and stared with his eyes. His 
 lips moved, but no sound came from them. 
 
 Then he called Thorgils his brother. 
 "Thorgils," he said, "yonder woman riding 
 there is Stangerd. She is alone. Shape 
 your course closer in, and be ready to cast 
 anchor." 
 
 "Why," said Thorgils, "what are you 
 about?" 
 
 "I am going to see Stangerd," Cormac 
 said. 
 
 "And what then?"
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 275 
 
 a 
 
 I don't know yet. We shall see." 
 
 ''Will you make trouble for us and 
 her?" 
 
 "I don't know. It will be to do that, 
 or to end the trouble. Alter our course, 
 
 say. 
 
 Thorgils did as he was told. The water 
 was as clear as glass on a bottom of hard, 
 white sand. They stood to within a spear's 
 throw of the shore. Stangerd, if it was she, 
 had seen the ship, and had reined up her 
 grey horse in a clearing in the wood. She 
 was looking at them. Thorgils now saw 
 that it was Stangerd sure enough. They 
 heaved the anchor overboard, and the Raven 
 brought up, but before she was fast, 
 Cormac was in the water to his middle. 
 
 Stangerd did not move from where she 
 was, but the light in her eyes answered the 
 light in his, and her flushed face to his 
 face. 
 
 He came directly to her through the trees, 
 and stood beside her. ] His hand rested on
 
 276 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 the horse's mane, but he did not touch 
 her. 
 
 She spoke first. "You have come 
 then." 
 
 "I saw you — so I came." 
 
 Her eyes engulfed him. But she was 
 not smiling. She was too deeply satisfied 
 for any outward sign. She consumed her 
 happiness within. Nothing in her life had 
 ever pleased her so much as this. 
 
 Cormac said, "What is this? Where 
 are you going ? Do you live here ? Where 
 is your husband ?" 
 
 Then she laughed. "A string of questions ! 
 I live at Fleet, which is not far from here. 
 I was lonely at home, so I came out. 
 Thorwald is away, brushing his nose some- 
 where." 
 
 Cormac said, "Let him be. We haven't 
 much time. But we have to-day." 
 
 "You are for Norway?" she asked him. 
 His eyes were upon her. 
 
 "I am for you at this hour — and the ship
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 277 
 
 is fast. Come with me for a little. You 
 are not afraid ?" 
 
 She said seriously, "No, I'm not afraid. 
 I'll walk with you." 
 
 He stood beside her, and took her down 
 from the horse. When he had her in his 
 arms he held her for a moment, and she made 
 sure that he was going to kiss her. But he 
 did not. He held her for a moment, and 
 then put her down. Both of them were 
 very red, and both out of breath. They 
 began to walk slowly through the wood. 
 Cormac led her horse. 
 
 There was no wind. The sun was hot, 
 and the sky blue. The sea lay glittering 
 without a ripple. The ground was dry 
 underfoot, and the stems of the birch-trees 
 were silver-grey. It was good to be alive 
 and young on such a day. Cormac and 
 Stangerd walked slowly side by side, with 
 very little to say, but each very conscious 
 of the other. They spoke seldom, and in 
 low voices. The hour of great desire seemed
 
 278 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 to be past. He did not talk of love to her; 
 but great love was in everything he said 
 and hushed every tone of his voice. 
 
 At noon, being out of sight of the ship 
 and, so far as could be seen, quite alone 
 together in the world, they sat and shared 
 some bread which Stangerd had with her. 
 After that Stangerd said that she was 
 sleepy, and lay down with her head on 
 Cormac's lap, and his cloak over her. He 
 himself sat quite still, looking out over 
 the sea, sometimes with great tenderness 
 at her unconscious form gently stirring in 
 sleep. He thought to himself that it would 
 be very easy to suffer if she was always 
 as innocent as that. When the evil 
 moments came upon him, he said to himself, 
 let him remember her as she lay there soft 
 and pure, nothing but the most lovely thing 
 in the world. Let him forget that she must 
 lie in another man's arms and put her arms 
 round another man's neck, and do him a 
 wrong thereby. Even as he urged himself
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 279 
 
 to forget that he remembered it, and felt 
 his blood boil. He startled violently with 
 the pain, and she awoke, and looked up, 
 smiling lazily with her blue eyes. 
 
 Immediately he said to himself: "It is 
 nothing, what she does with herself, or is 
 done to. She is as incapable of wrong- 
 doing as a tree or a flower. It is I who 
 do wrong." 
 
 "Why did you wake me?" she asked 
 him, and he said, "A serpent stung me, 
 and I started. But I have killed it." 
 
 She laughed as she snuggled her cheek in 
 her hand. "I don't believe it. There are 
 no serpents above ground in March." 
 
 "There are always serpents above ground 
 when a man walks the world," said Cormac. 
 
 She thought of that for a while, and then 
 she sat up and moved beside him, and took 
 his arm. He would not look at her, but 
 he listened acutely. 
 
 "You are unhappy at leaving me?" 
 she said.
 
 280 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 He replied at once, "No, I am not. 
 That is what is so bad about it. If I were 
 leaving you enchanted in this wood, to 
 sleep until I come back — in a year, in two 
 or ten years — I should go without a thought 
 or a look back. But it is because I am 
 leaving you in the power of another man 
 that I grieve and fret. Therefore I know 
 that I love you not well. Therefore I know 
 that I must leave you." 
 
 She lifted her eyebrows and opened her 
 eyes wide. "Are all men like you? Do 
 all men love women so ? " 
 
 "I believe that they do," Cormac said: 
 "but I don't want to be like other men. 
 I want to love you as I love the sky and 
 the wind on the hill. You are as beautiful 
 as they are — indeed, more beautiful, for 
 they only represent parts of you. They 
 are your eyes and your breath. But there's 
 your fragrance, and your gait, and the 
 flame of your golden hair; there are your 
 brows, your chin, your bosom, your hands.
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 281 
 
 And last of all, there is yourself, which 
 makes men sing and go mad. When I 
 first loved you I rejoiced in you; but after- 
 wards I could not rejoice, because I wanted 
 more than I could have. Sometimes I 
 could have killed you for love, and that's 
 a terrible thing." 
 
 She said, "Yes, that is terrible; but I 
 will tell you this now, Cormac — that there 
 have been times when I have wished you 
 to kill me with love. No other man has 
 ever made me wish that." 
 
 Cormac gloomed and frowned over this 
 saying, and did not speak for a time. Then 
 he said, " Do women feel such things ? 
 Do they desire to give what a man desires 
 to take? Is that possible?" He looked 
 at Stangerd, but she had turned her head 
 away, and when he touched her hand she 
 moved it and got up. 
 
 "We must go," she said. The sun was 
 down behind the mountains, the air was colder, 
 and dusk had begun to haunt the wood.
 
 282 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 But Cormac must be answered. He made 
 her face him, he made her look at him. 
 She did it, but a storm lay gathering behind 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Stangerd," he said, "it is not too late." 
 
 She flamed, she stamped her foot. "You 
 fool," she said fiercely, "it is too late. You 
 have made me suffer horribly. I shall never 
 forget it — and I will not forget it." 
 
 He shut his eyes, rocked about. "A curse 
 is upon me. A moment ago and I was 
 happy, loving you as I should. But now 
 I feel the fire again." 
 
 She put her hand on his arm. "Let us 
 go," she said, "let us go. We have had 
 a happy day." She was quite close to 
 him now, and put her face up to his as she 
 spoke. She had no fear. He stooped and 
 kissed her. His eyes were full of tears. 
 
 Then they went to look for her horse; 
 but he had strayed, and they could not
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 283 
 
 find him. It grew dark quickly, and it 
 was necessary to do something. "What 
 shall we do?" said Cormac. They walked 
 on in silence together, and by and by a 
 light showed up out of a hollow where the 
 hill ran sharply down to a river and the 
 sea-level. 
 
 "There's a house down yonder," Cormac 
 said. "They will shelter us for the night. 
 We had better go and ask them." 
 
 She agreed to that, and took his arm. 
 The way was very steep, and it was almost 
 dark. Soon they heard the roaring of a 
 force, and could make out the roof-line of 
 a small house. And then a dog barked 
 sharply, and ran out to meet them — a black 
 and white dog. 
 
 A woman answered to their knocking, 
 and asked them in. It was a poor house. 
 She said that her sons were away at the 
 fishing. There was room enough for them, 
 but not much to eat. 
 
 "There's a good bed for you," she said,
 
 284 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 "for you can have mine. I'm a widow, 
 worse luck !" 
 
 Cormac said at once, "You must give 
 us two beds, mother. This is my sister." 
 
 "You don't favour each other much, by 
 the looks of you," she said. "You're dark 
 enough for an Irishman." 
 
 They ate her meal and dry fish and 
 sat by the fire for a little, and then the 
 woman came in and said that the beds were 
 ready. They were side by side, but a wooden 
 partition ran up between them to within 
 a foot of the rafters. Cormac, who thought 
 that he should be awake all night, went to 
 sleep almost immediately. It was Stangerd 
 who kept watch, and tossed and turned the 
 better part of the night. 
 
 In the morning Cormac got out of the house 
 early and went up the hill to look for the 
 horse. He found him without trouble, and 
 brought him down to the farmhouse. 
 Stangerd was waiting for him in the porch.
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 285 
 
 She wished him good-morning with a smile 
 
 and kind eyes. He took her in his arms 
 
 and kissed her. The woman of the house, 
 
 who was stirring her oatmeal, sniffed. "I 
 
 never saw a man kiss his sister like that," 
 
 she said to herself. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 They set out and climbed the hill into 
 the woods. It was a fresh, mild morning of 
 Spring, and the birds were busy every- 
 where at their nesting and courtship. The 
 sea sparkled and the air quivered. Life 
 was a good thing to look forward to, even 
 if to look back was a bad thing. 
 
 Cormac found his singing voice again. 
 
 O land where the sea-eagle hovers, 
 O mountain-land and river flood. 
 Here is the wonder of the wood, 
 And here a tale of love and lovers. 
 
 What have I done ? I've heard the note 
 Thrill'd by the wood-bird in the dark; 
 It set me soaring like a lark 
 That on his own song seems afloat.
 
 286 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 But what have I done ? I was blind 
 That thought I saw a fair maid pass 
 And stroke my cheek. That was no lass, 
 That spirit of the wandering wind. 
 
 What have I done ? silly hands, 
 That thought to hold and starve the fire, 
 And teach it leap to your desire 
 And burn within your puny bands ! 
 
 What have I done, but love too high ? 
 What have I done, but fall too far ? 
 I set my longing on a star, 
 And there it burns, and here I lie. 
 
 And then he changed the time, and his 
 voice had a jarring sound here and there, 
 though the words were tender. Whiles, it 
 croaked like a June nightingale's. 
 
 Of Stangerd and her beauty, now, 
 
 What shall I sing ? Was she in sooth 
 
 The Spirit few see but some may know, 
 
 Even as believ'd an ardent youth: 
 
 The Essence at the heart of things, 
 
 Which makes them things ? substantial truth ?
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 287 
 
 The secret rose of loveliness, 
 
 The very flicker in the wings 
 
 Of birds, the thrill of sweet distress 
 
 You get at heart, when a bird sings 
 
 At night ? The fragrance, hue, impress, 
 
 The very life within the dress 
 
 That bodies beauty ? Was all this 
 
 Chance-held in Stangerd's blossomings 
 
 For Cormac's vision and his bliss ? 
 
 Was she so rare or he so tender ? 
 
 He found her so by hit or miss. 
 
 There he stopped, and reined up 
 the grey horse. He put his hand upon 
 Stangerd's knee, and held her eyes with 
 his eyes while he sang again his last 
 song. 
 
 And so he paid for his lachess, 
 Or, if you please, his soul-surrender; 
 For plain men saw — a piece of goods, 
 Just a fine girl, for all her splendour 
 Of form and favour, made of moods 
 And whim and hearty appetite, 
 Who liked her supper and was clear 
 What was and what was not her right.
 
 288 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 And so two took her for delight, 
 And serv'd them of her aptitude 
 For work by day and play by night, 
 And found all well, and made good cheer; 
 And when their turn came round she dight 
 Their burial-clouts 
 
 He stopped again abruptly, for he saw 
 that Stangerd was crying. 
 
 "Shame upon me!" he said; "my love, 
 forgive me, and let me go." 
 
 She spoke through her tears. "You don't 
 know — you don't know women. I am glad 
 all men are not like you, because then all 
 women would be as miserable as I am." 
 
 He strained up to take her, but she would 
 not let him. After a while she dried her 
 eyes and spoke to him again. 
 
 "Go now," she said. "There is your 
 ship, and my way lies yonder." 
 
 Far below them, truly enough, the Raven 
 lay swaying at her anchor. Beyond the 
 Ness the sea sparkled and crisped. 
 
 Stangerd stooped from her saddle and 
 met Cormac's clouded face. Their lips met
 
 THE NIGHT IN THE WOOD 289 
 
 and stayed together for a while. Then she 
 said good-bye and turned and rode through 
 the wood. She had no tears in her eyes now, 
 and carried her head high. The fire showed 
 on her cheek-bones. She did not hurry her 
 horse, but kept at a walking pace through 
 the wood, and out on to the heath. Pres- 
 ently she saw Thorwald's house-stead in 
 the hollow of the hills. It looked grey in 
 the shadow, for at this time of the year it 
 did not get the sun till noon. 
 
 She rode down the hill and through the 
 meadows to the garth. Her husband stood, 
 a portly man, in the doorway, brushing his 
 nose with his fine golden beard. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, wife," he said.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE END OF IT 
 
 '"PHEY say that Cormac set sail in the 
 Raven before noon of the day when 
 he said good-bye to Stangerd. And they 
 say that when he was in the open sea, 
 clearing Grimsey, which is the most northerly 
 of the islands, he saw a sea-beast of grey 
 colour in the sea upon the port bow. He 
 had a spear in his hand, and, as the beast 
 swirled up alongside the ship, he threw 
 the spear and pierced her side. She rolled 
 over, and he saw her dead blue eyes and 
 broad, expressionless face. He said to his 
 
 brother Thorgils, "That was the face of 
 
 290
 
 THE END OF IT 291 
 
 Thorveig the spae-wife, who set a curse upon 
 me. If she is dead now ? What had I 
 best do?" 
 
 Thorgils said, "There's no going back 
 now." 
 
 "There's no going back at all, in my 
 belief," Cormac said. 
 
 * 
 
 It is true that just about then Thorveig 
 the spae-wife did die; but Cormac did 
 not go back, and I believe he never saw 
 Stangerd again, though he never forgot her, 
 and died at last with her name in his 
 mouth. He served the Kings of Norway 
 for many years; became a great Viking; 
 was known in Ireland and Scotland. They 
 say, indeed, that he made a settlement 
 for himself at Scarborough in England; 
 but I don't know how that may be. 
 So far as I am concerned, I have done 
 with him.
 
 292 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 As is the case with all good tales, there 
 are more sides than one to Cormac's. Was 
 he cursed by the spae-wife, or by his own 
 nature ? Did he well by Stangerd, or ill ? 
 Was the poet right who said that when 
 one of his kind loves a woman, the woman 
 will be sorry for it ? 
 
 The same poet, who is not Cormac, closes 
 his version of the story upon a note which 
 can be variously interpreted. 
 
 He says: 
 
 So much for Cormac. And what she 
 gain'd 
 Of her wild lover, or how suffer'd 
 To have her well of sweetness drain'd 
 By one or other as he offered — 
 She was a woman and, men think, 
 Rewarded; for they crav'd, she profFer'd; 
 They thirsted and she gave them drink. 
 They dipt their cups for what she cofFer'd, 
 And if they needed, should she shrink 
 Lest she might come to want ? Their 
 
 thriving 
 Was hers, we say — without a wink,
 
 THE END OF IT 293 
 
 Because we mean it. She got by giving. 
 For giving man life is her living. 
 At least, that's man's serene persuasion. 
 He calls it her re-generation. 
 
 Now that's all very well; but — I should 
 like to have Stanvor Slimlegs , opinion more 
 than anyone's.
 
 NOTE 
 
 PWO English versions of this tale are 
 known to me, both literal translations 
 of the Saga as it now stands. One of them, the 
 more critical and crabbed of the pair, is to be 
 found in the second volume of York Powell's 
 and Vigfussen's Origines Islandiccs; the other, 
 which includes a good deal omitted in the 
 first, and is a more genial work altogether, 
 if not so correct, is by Messieurs W. G. 
 Collingwood and Jon Stefansson, and was 
 published at Ulverston, in Lancashire, in 
 1902. It is embellished with charming 
 landscapes of the places named in the tale. 
 Both of these versions have been useful 
 
 to me, and I hereby express my obligations 
 
 294
 
 NOTE 295 
 
 to their learned authors; but both of them 
 render Cormac's tale exactly as it now 
 exists, with all its joints loose, and some 
 missing, with an abrupt beginning, no middle, 
 and no end. My business with it has been 
 to make it accountable, and relate part to 
 part; for as it stands it is not reasonable; 
 its parts don't cohere; it seems to lack 
 human nature and that logic of events which 
 only a study of human nature can give. 
 Those must have been in the tale once, 
 but they are not there now, and I have 
 tried to put them back again. We are apt 
 to stumble upon the discrepancies in old 
 stories, to put them down to outlandish 
 customs, or outmoded ones, or the vagaries 
 of the romancer, and to slur them over. 
 But it's not the way to get the good out 
 of a good tale to say: "To be sure, it 
 might be better, but let's get on . . ." 
 Human nature knows neither time nor 
 place, has been very much the same in 
 Odin's day and in Christ's, is very much
 
 296 A LOVERS' TALE 
 
 t 
 
 the same in Iceland and in England, and 
 in all the countries I ever heard of or saw. 
 Reading closely into Cormac's tale, I find 
 it quite reasonable and full of human nature 
 as we know it now. 
 
 Cormac was a poet, so much the better 
 or so much the worse than other poets 
 before him or since in that he didn't know 
 it, or at any rate didn't know what his 
 poiesis involved. He didn't know when he 
 began, but he had an inkling before he had 
 done. Men of his sort, who joy in the 
 thought rather than the deed, and see beauty 
 the better the less they handle it, have 
 flourished in the world at all ages of it — 
 in the days of Paris,* who did basely, in the 
 days of Dante, who did sublimely, and in 
 our own, when thinking and doing alike 
 are going out of fashion in favour of talking 
 about one or the other. Therefore, according 
 to me, there is sound human nature in the 
 
 * This may seem a hard saying, yet I am very sure that Paris 
 had more joy in considering Helen's beauty than in consuming it.
 
 NOTE 297 
 
 tale of Cormac's preposterous love-making, 
 and no less in the account of the lovely 
 Stangerd whom he so long and squeamishly 
 beset. As for old Berse of the many 
 battles, he is a man of men, and deserves 
 a saga all to himself. He had one once, 
 but it has perisht. 
 
 M. H.
 
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