The Viking's Skull

by John R. Carling

The golden vase had puzzled Lorelie, but this silver relic puzzled her still more. She did not doubt that the object before her was the identical ring, the non-production of which at the trial of Eric Marville, was one of the points that had told against him. She knew the story of its theft from Mrs. Breakspear, and, like Idris, knew not whither it had vanished. Now, after all these years, it thus reappeared! By what circuitous route, through how many bloodstained hands, had it passed before regaining its ancient abode?

Mechanically she took the ring from the earl's hand. If this were indeed the very relic, there should be a black mark upon the inner perimeter of the ring. Upon examining it, however, she could discover no stain at all: the metal band was bright and unsullied.

Was this ring, like the vase, a replica: or was there truth in the ancient legend that the bloodstain would vanish when some one should meet with a violent end as an atonement for the slaying of the Norse herald? Certain it was that a death had occurred in connection with the finding of the treasure.

With a bewildered air she handed back the ring to the earl, who placed it within the coffin beside the vase, and turned again to his list.

"'Article 3. A sapphire drinking-cup. Weight'—ah! look at this!" he cried, breaking off from his reading in an ecstasy of delight. "Look at it! Handle it! Admire it! Can the Dresden Gallery produce its like?"

A low and prolonged cry of admiration flowed from Lorelie's lips. The object handed to her by the earl was a miniature goblet, the tiny bowl, stem, and stand being delicately sculptured from one entire sapphire. It was a work of art, as well as a splendid gem. With the delight of a child over a new toy Lorelie raised the gleaming brilliant aloft, placing it between her eye and the light in order to mark its lovely azure transparency. Its beauty was such as almost to reconcile her to her lot with Ivar. To think if she chose, she might in time to come be the joint-possessor of such a gem!

"A million of money would not buy that cup," cried the earl, watching her look of admiration. "It belonged originally to the great Caliph, Abderahman the Second, and was taken by Draco and his Vikings at the sacking of the Moorish palace at Seville. It vanished from human ken, and has lain hidden in a night of ten centuries. The lapidaries of the present age scoff at its description in history, believing the gem to be the creation of Arabian fancy: but here it is, existing to-day, to confute their shallow scepticism. Were this gem known to the world it would take the title of 'The Queen of Sapphires.'"

Charmed beyond the power of words to describe, Lorelie turned the cup slowly round, flashing the light from a hundred facets: and then—and then—she made a discovery. A minute air-bubble was faintly visible in the crystalline azure!

She glanced at the earl. His triumphant face showed that he had not the least inkling of the truth. She looked at Ivar, who happened at this moment to be standing behind his father. The sudden change in Lorelie's countenance assured the viscount of the fact of her discovery: and now, he, the coward who had been willing to take her life, was appealing to her by gesture and expression to keep her knowledge a secret from his father.

For that which gave the earl such pride was in truth nothing but an artificial gem, a marvellous imitation of the real thing, but still merely a piece of coloured glass!