Chapter 11: The Summons Of The Beacons.

Now, for all the peace of this holy island there hung over it an ever-present fear of which I learned when we spoke to Phelim concerning the treasure which we would leave in the care of the brethren when we went hence.

He said that it was well if we would do so, and that they would bury it under that new shed which we had helped to build, since no Danes would wonder at seeing newly-turned earth there.

"Moreover," he said, "if we are not here when you come for it, you will know where it is."

He said this quietly, and as a matter of course, and I asked him in surprise if it was likely that they would leave their island.

"Not alive," he answered; "but the Danes may spy our easily-taken flocks at any time, and come ash.o.r.e here."

"Why, they would not harm the unresisting," I said.

"Nay, but we are priests of the faith, therefore the heathen rage against us. Already they have slain almost every brotherhood along the sh.o.r.es of this land, and of Scotland. Our turn may come at any time."

He was in no way disquieted at this terrible thought. Thereafter I knew that to him such a death was martyrdom, and most glorious.

But Bertric listened with a troubled face, and presently, when we were alone again, he said that he was anxious.

"I only hope that we may not have brought trouble on these good men who have sheltered us," he said. "There was a ship which must have seen us cast ash.o.r.e here."

"We should have had her back by this time if she meant seeking us."

"It is not her whom I fear," he answered. "This ship of ours was too precious for Heidrek to let go easily. So soon as that fog cleared, and he found we were not ahead on the Norway sh.o.r.e, he would put about. He knew that we must be undermanned, being so close to us. Then he would get back to where he lost us, and thereafter would guess the only course we could have taken, for the matter of handling the sail would settle that. We could not have gone far ere the wind dropped. Then supposing he picked up our mast?"

"Unlikely enough," I said. "We are raising trouble for ourselves."

Bertric shook his head. "I know Heidrek only too well. He may spend this season in hunting for the treasure which he so nearly had.

News of a wreck flies fast, and he has but to touch here and there on our track or thereabout to hear of us sooner or later."

Now, I did not trouble much more about this, but it bided in Bertric's mind, and made him restless. That third day pa.s.sed without sign from the mainland, as was likely, seeing that the fishers had to reach the king. It would have been of no use for us to take the boat and cross, for Dalfin told us that we needs must have horses, and maybe a guard when we would go to his place, which was a long day's ride from the sh.o.r.e. We were well cared for here, and it was a pleasant place wherein to wait.

In the evening the old superior sent for us again, and sitting once more in the sheltered glen, he taught us, taking up his tale where we had left it, after making me speak the old tongue of his youth to him for a little while. He was a wonderful teacher, clear and patient, and it would have been strange if we had not learned from him.

Yet I cannot say that I seemed to learn much. I clung to the old faith of my fathers, and that was not wonderful. But Gerda learned, and loved all that she heard. I had to turn the words of the teacher into the homely Norse for her, and her questions were many and eager.

Somewhere about midnight thereafter, Bertric woke with a start which roused me, so that I sat up and asked what was amiss.

"I do not know," he answered; "but it lies on my mind that somewhat has happened, or is to happen. Somewhat evil."

"The last talk of Heidrek has raised fears in your mind," I said.

Then across the stone-framed window came a flare of red light, and we both sprang to our feet and went to the door. Dalfin stirred, but did not wake. And when we were in the open all was still in the moonlight round us, but on the mainland every hill inland to the westward was tipped with the flame of beacon fires, newly lighted.

That which had waked Bertric, as one may suppose, with its first flash, was set on the hill over the fishers' village, whence we were to look for the signal to tell us to be ready for departure.

It had been just lighted, and blazed up fiercely as we stood outside the cell. Five minutes later another fire answered it to the eastward, and again beyond that a third, and fourth, one after the other, as men saw the glare.

"Foes landing to the westward," said Bertric. "The fires run thence. Maybe the ship we saw went down the coast and has returned."

Now we woke Dalfin, who came out yawning, and looked.

"Danes, I suppose," he said carelessly. "That is the usual trouble; or else Connaught men on the raid. Well, as we cannot get at them, we need not trouble concerning them. And they cannot reach us."

"The fires sprang up quickly as if men watched by them tonight,"

said Bertric. "Some enemy was looked for."

"You have seen the like before then?" asked Dalfin.

"Not once or twice. And for the same reason--the Danes."

"Have you fought with them?"

"I was at my own place when we beat them off once."

So we stood and watched the fires until they twinkled as far as we could see to the eastward. Westward the hill, as I have said, cut off sight of both cliffs and open sea, but over it was the glow in the sky of far-off beacons.

Fergus came out of the chapel, and I heard him give a little cry as he saw the fires. Then he came to us, seeing us in the moonlight, which was bright.

"No need to fear, my sons," he said in his still voice. "Many a time I have seen those fires before, and doubtless shall see them again. The trouble may be far off, and of little account. Sleep in peace."

We turned in again, but sleep was broken until daylight came, and we were astir with the first gleam of sun across the door. It was a bright morning, with a steady sea breeze from the northeast, and every promise of the fine weather that comes withal in the summer.

On the hills the smoke of the war beacons still rose and drifted, but there was no sign of stir at the foot of the glen on the mainland where the fishers had their haven, such as it was.

The brethren came from their cells, looked at the black smoke wreaths, and sighed, and went their ways into the chapel for the matins, and the little bell rang. Then Gerda came from her cell and saw us, for she, too, was early wakeful here in the quiet.

"Why are you looking so troubled? she asked us, as we bade her good morrow. Her eyes went from one to the other in some dismay, for I dare say we showed that the night had been unquiet for us.

"There seems to be some trouble on the mainland," I answered.

"There are beacon fires yonder, but the brothers think little of them. They are not unusual here from all accounts."

"By no means," said Dalfin. "And they may mean little. At the most, we may be kept waiting here for a day or two longer while my father gathers men and goes to see what is amiss. Now I have a mind to ask the hermits to call the fishers and let me cross and help, if so be there is fighting on hand.

"You would come also, would you not?" he asked, looking at us two.

"Hardly," Bertric answered, before I could do so in the same word.

"Why not?"

"It is not to be supposed that we could leave our charge," he answered.

"Forgive me; I forgot," said Dalfin at once.

But even that word had made Gerda pale with the thought that she might be left alone, with the fear of our not returning for her.

She smiled at Bertric as he answered, and then asked if we should not follow the brothers into the chapel, as we were told we might do at any time, though this first service was not one for which she and I might stay all the while.