Still with gentleness, Starkad’s son shook his head. “Only what my safety has need of I take,—your liberty. I will give you the comforts and amusements you may choose yourself—”
“Amusements!” Rough scorn was in the gesture with which the Songsmith sprang up. “Why do you talk thus, or what do you think of me? Do you forget that I am bred to no lower roof than the tent of the sun? Better might you cage an eagle and bid him be content with a branch where before he had ranged the forest! But I belie you in thinking it! Your sane self could never deal so wrongfully with me,—and you must be sane! You must be sane! No marks of the curse are on you. If you are whole-minded, listen to me! For this song, I take the Cross-oath that it shall never pass my lips—even in solitude. Nay, I will dash it out of my memory! By your love, believe me!”
To take his hand and press and stroke it, the Jarl came all the way from the door.
“Do I not believe you?” he said caressingly. “On your good intentions I would lay down my life. It is luck that I dare not trust so much to. Did I not for a dozen years hide my curse so that not even my own kin dreamed it was there, only to have it burst out like smouldering fire at last? So would your uttermost effort be set at naught with such a secret pressing for outlet—”
Almost with repulsion, Randvar freed himself from the fondling hands, and pushed the other away that he might front him squarely.
“Jarl, as God hears me, I would sooner that you should rage! It is not sound, this softness! Face me like a man—or a devil—or anything but this! Listen, and I will lay the truth before you so that no room shall be left for doubt to stand between us. If it rouse you to anger, so much the better! Lord, I never knew your secret,—only I let you think so because in no other way would you believe in my love. Of that hard happening at the Pool, I saw no more than your struggle with the hound. That you loosed him on Starkad, I become aware for the first time—”
He broke off because it was plain that Helvin was no longer listening. He stood gazing at his song-maker, his eyes retreating deeper and deeper between crafty folds.
He said as to himself: “Love of life! How strong it must be in a mightful man like you!... Doubly strong since you have the love of the maiden that is dear to you.... It is not strange that it should be strong enough to make you lie to me—”
“Jarl!” the Songsmith broke in fiercely,—but stopped, conscious that his voice could not carry across the chasm that had opened between them. Only he could see across it the expression with which Helvin was regarding him; and more awful than the slyness of his half-shut eyes was the gaze in which they were widening, the rapt gaze of one who sees beyond the veil.
“Behold, what weird powers are allotted to me!” he said under his breath. “As through a key-hole, I can see through this lie into the hall of What Is To Come. The next time fear pricked you, you would lie again.... And then to keep off fear, you would begin to act lies.... And after that it would seem so natural that you would be thinking lies ... lies ... lies ... till, like a worm-riddled boat, only your fair shape would be left. You who were the most unlying and bravest-hearted of men! Rather than you shall come to that pass, I will slay you in your prime.” From the tangled mass of blood-colored hair, his wide eyes turned slowly to the song-maker, fired with crazy purpose.