“No! in this hour terror alone shall be my slave; I will use no art save the power of my soul.”
So, leaning on his pine staff, he strode down to the palace.
And it was now evening, and many of the men held torches, that they might see each other’s faces in the universal fear.
Red flashed the quivering flames on the dark robes and pale front of Morven; and he seemed mightier than the rest, because his face alone was calm amidst the tumult.
And louder and hoarser came the roar of the waters; and swift rusted the shades of night over the hastening tide.
And Morven said in a stern voice:
“Where is the king; and wherefore is he absent from his people in the hour of dread?”
Then the gate of the palace opened; and, behold Siror was sitting in the hall by the vast pine-fire and his brother by his side, and his chiefs around him: for they would not deign to come amongst the crowd at the bidding of the herdsman’s son.
Then Morven, standing upon a rock above the heads of the people (the same rack whereon he had proclaimed the king), thus spake:
“Ye desired to know, O sons of Oestrich! wherefore the river hath burst its bounds, and the peril hath come upon you.