"Open it. There is a writing. Read, it will tell—promise—I can speak no more."
"I promise," she replied, hardly knowing what she said, her heart was so full.
There was another brief silence, and then loudly and clearly he cried,—
"Bring up my banner! Forward, Thord's men! Forward!……They fly!……They fly!"
The voice died away, and Osla was left alone.
CHAPTER IX.
THE MESSAGE OF THE RUNES.
The story must now come back to Norway. Though Estein had returned with neither spoil nor captives, the tale of Liot's capture and the combat on the holm added much to his renown, and no fewer than six skalds composed lengthy poems on the adventure. There seemed no reason why the hero of these lays should shrink from talking of his expedition, and avoid, so far as he could, the company of men. Gradually strange rumours began to spread. Helgi, who alone knew the truth, held his peace for Estein's sake, even when the ale flowed most freely. The others who had sailed with them laid no such restraint on their tongues, and stories of a spell and an Orkney witch, vague and contradictory, but none the less eagerly listened to and often repeated, went the round of the country. The king at last began to take alarm, and one day he called Earl Sigvald to him and talked with him alone.
"What rede can you give, jarl?" he said; "a strange witchcraft I fear has been at work. When a young man smiles but seldom, broods often by himself, and shuns the flagon and the feast, there is something more to be looked for than a loss of men and ships, or the changefulness of youth."
"Get him a wife," replied the earl. "He has been single too long.
There is no cure for spells like a pair of bright eyes."