"You will not object to my help, I presume?" Godfrey remarked.
"On the contrary, I shall be glad of it."
"I am half-disposed to join in this romantic business myself," said Beatrice with a smile. "How interesting if you should discover the treasure!"
"We are not very likely to discover treasure that was secreted a thousand years ago," commented Godfrey.
"And yet," said Idris, "many sepulchral barrows, opened in our day, are found to contain treasure—coins, drinking-horns, armour, and the like."
"True: but in this case you forget that the words on the runic ring were an express invitation to Orm's son—what was his name, Magnus?—to possess himself of the treasure. He would not leave much for posterity to glean."
"Yes, if he received his mother's ring; but how if it miscarried? Hilda evidently lived far away from her son Magnus, else why should she have engraved her communication on metal, when she could more easily have delivered it vivâ voce and face to face? The messenger entrusted with the ring may have gone astray. Travelling was a difficult matter in Norse times, and many perils beset the wayfarer, especially a wayfarer who carried anything worth stealing. Or consider this point, that though Magnus was capable of understanding the runic riddle—otherwise his mother would not have adopted such a mode of communication—yet it does not follow that his son or successor was equally skilled. Supposing, then, that Magnus was dead when the messenger arrived with the ring, there may have been no one in Deira capable of interpreting the message. The ring might thus retain its secret, and the hillock its treasure, down to our own time."
"Possible, but not probable," smiled Godfrey.
Beatrice's eyes rested upon the vellum containing Idris' translation of the runic inscription.
"'The fires of the Asas guard thy heritage for thee!'" she read. "What does that mean?"