“Why take your failure so much to heart, comrade?” he remonstrated. “I came prepared to pay Olaf’s price. Stay here by me that we may at least have to-night together, for I suppose he thinks too much of his wonderful laws to hang me before sunrise.”
Nodding, Erling turned and spoke to one of the guards, who caught up a hammer and commenced knocking the chains off the prisoner’s limbs with far greater alacrity than he had shown in putting them on.
“What is the meaning of that?” Sigurd asked in surprise.
“Olaf has given you into my charge until morning,” Erling explained briefly.
For as long as the space between one breath and the next, the prisoner grew tense and alert.
“What pledge did you give for my safety?” he asked quickly.
Less quickly, Erling answered: “My own life.”
The half-formed hope faded. Sigurd’s mighty frame relaxed.
“I give you thanks,” he said, and no more was spoken on the subject.
One by one, the guards drifted back to the ale-horns, and the friends were left alone in the starlit silence of the courtyard. Suddenly, Erling laid hold of the great shoulders before him and shook him fiercely, while at the same time his fingers clung to them in a caress.