Over this he spread a rich white linen mantle, and laid the heavily breathing form upon it.

And again the moon was full, as on that night of the battle on the ship. But many storm-rent clouds were still driving across the heavens, and the sailing disk of the moon had not pierced through them.

And it was midsummer night. The first that Halfred had not spent by the black Heckla Stone in Iceland.

Thora had fallen asleep upon her flowers.

Halfred had covered her with his own mantle. And he sat close by the flower hill, and looked into the n.o.ble, pale, all bloodless face, and then quietly before him again.

"Ye have done all things well, ye merciful dwellers in the stars above.

Ye have requited me, for that I never altogether doubted ye. I will not again question with ye, wherefore ye have ordained for me this second fearful thing, that I should be forced to slay my dear blood-brethren, and so many of the ship's crew.

"Because ye have saved this wonderful flower, and have not suffered her guiltless, to perish for other's guilt, for ever will I bless ye.

"And a song of praise will I compose for you, ye merciful and gracious G.o.ds; such as never yet has resounded to your praise. Thanks to you, ye gracious G.o.ds!"

And thus musing he fell asleep; for it was many many nights since he had slept.

Then a piercing cry awoke him, which seemed to ring from the stars.

"Halfred." It fell upon his ear from high above.

He started up from slumber, and looked upwards. There he saw what filled him with horror. The full moon had, while he slept, pierced the clouds, and shone with full radiance upon Thora's face. Now Halfred saw her, standing swaying, high on the slender cross-spars, many many feet above his head.

Like a white ghost she shone in the moonlight; her widely opened eyes looked out into her future; her right hand she stretched, as though warding off, into the night. She did not hold fast by the slender towering mast, on whose giddying height naught else save the seabird, tossing, rested. And yet she stood firmly erect; but in her face was despairing woe.

"O Halfred," she wailed, in a low tone of heart-rending anguish, "O Halfred--how distracted thy looks--how fearfully tangled hair and beard! Ah! how thine eye rolls--and half naked--like a Berseker, in s.h.a.ggy wolf's skin. And how stained thou art with the blood of guiltless men. And why threatenest thou the fair-haired shepherd the light-hearted boy? Beware--beware the sling--guard thyself--turn thy head--the swing whistles--the stone flies--O Halfred--thine eye." And bending far forward she stretched, as though she would protect, both arms into the air. Now she must fall--so it seemed.

"Fall not, Thora!" cried Halfred upwards.

Then, as though lightning struck, swift as an arrow, with a wild shriek, she fell downwards from the giddy height of the mast.

The white forehead struck upon the deck, her head and golden hair were bathed in blood.

"Thora! Thora!" cried Halfred, and raised her up, and looked into her eyes. Then he fell senseless with her upon his face among the flowers--for she was dead.

CHAPTER XV.

When Halfred raised himself again--he had already long since recovered consciousness, but not the power to rise--the sun was fast going down.

He called the six seamen, who had held themselves shyly aloof in the stern and lower deck, and spoke, but his voice, he himself told me, sounded strange to him like that of another person.

"She is dead. Slain for the sins of others.

"There are no G.o.ds.

"Were there G.o.ds I must have dashed out the brains of all of them, one by one, with this hammer.

"The whole world, heaven and sea, and h.e.l.l, I must have burned with consuming fire.

"Nothing should any longer be, since Thora no longer is.

"The world can I not destroy.

"But the ships, and all that is upon it, I will burn--a great funereal pile for Thora.

"Do as I say to ye."

And he embedded with gentle hands, the dead Thora in the flower mound, so that almost nothing of her form and clothing were to be seen.

And by his orders the six men were obliged to bring upon deck all the weapons, treasures, clothing, and provisions, which were stored in the hold of the Singing Swan.

And Halfred heaped them around the mast upon the flower mound, and purple clothing, linen cloth, silken stuff, golden vessels, and soft cushions, he piled up all round about.

Then he poured ship's tar over all, and covered it with withered brushwood, and dry chips from the kitchen.

And he ordered all sail to be set--a strong warm south wind was blowing--

Then he mounted upon the upper deck, and overlooked all.

And he nodded his head, well satisfied. And then he descended to the kitchen, to bring up a burning brand.

When he came up again he found that the sailors had lowered the two ship's boats, the larger and the smaller boat, they lay tossing by the boat ropes, to the right and left of the Singing Swan.

"Hasten, my lord," cried one of the seamen to him; "so soon as thou hast thrown the torch, to spring into a boat; for rapidly, in this gale, will the Singing Swan flame up, and easily might the fire seize the boats, and cause both thee and all of us to perish."

Halfred looked with staring eyes at the man "Would ye still live, after ye have seen this?

"Think ye that I will live without Thora? after the guiltless for other's,--for my crime,--hath died?

"No, with me shall ye all on this ship burn--truly a worthless funeral pile for Thora."

"Thou shalt not destroy us, guiltless. Forbid it, G.o.ds!" cried the man, and sprang upon Halfred, to wrest the firebrand from him.

But with a fearful blow of his fist Halfred struck him down upon the deck.

Laughing shrilly, he shouted, "G.o.ds! Who dare still to believe in G.o.ds, when Thora, guiltless, has died?

"There are no G.o.ds, I tell ye.

"Were there G.o.ds, I must have slain them all.

"And I will slay, as my deadly enemy, whosoever declares that he still believes in G.o.ds."

Furiously he brandished the firebrand in his left hand, the hammer in his right, and cried to the trembling sailors--