Then forth, wild—haggard—alarmed—spear in hand, rushed the giant sons of the rugged tribe, and they saw a man on a height in the middle of the city, shrieking, “Woe!” and it was Morven, the son of Osslah!
And he said unto them, as they gathered round him, “Men and warriors, tremble as ye hear.
“The star of the west hath spoken to me and thus saith the star:
“‘Evil shall fall upon the kingly house of Oestrich—yea, ere the morning dawns; wherefore, go thou mourning into the streets, and wake the inhabitants to woe!’
“So I rose and did the bidding of the star.”
And while Morven was yet speaking, a servant of the king’s house ran up to the crowd, crying loudly:
“The king is dead!”
So they went into the palace and found the king stark upon his couch, and his huge limbs all cramped and crippled by the pangs of death, and his hands clenched as if in menace of a foe—the foe of all living flesh!
Then fear came on the gazers, and they looked on Morven with a deeper awe than the boldest warrior would have called forth: and they bore him back to the council-hall of the wise men, wailing and clashing their arms in woe, and shouting, ever and anon:
“Honor to Morven, the prophet!”