The guardsman shook his head ponderously. “No such quiet end for Starkad the Berserker. One of the hunting-dogs sprang on him and tore his throat to pieces. Ingolf brought the tidings just after we parted from you. The place where it happened was on the brink of as hideous a pond as a bad dream ever painted. I went and looked at it afterwards. I give you my word that the water was as black as—”
“The Black Pool!” cried Erna and Snowfrid together. Randvar had become as motionless as the bench on which his foot was resting.
Bolverk nodded. “Naught else should it be called; any dead branch sticking out of it gets the look of a bleached bone. You may imagine what a sight it was to come upon,—Starkad sprawling on the brink, and Helvin leaning against a tree, more white than a halter-corpse, except—”
“Helvin!” This time the echo came from Randvar.
Drawing a step nearer, Bolverk lowered his voice.
“I will not be so mean as to draw the cup back after you have had one swallow. Only I ask you to forget who brought the tidings hither. The hound was Helvin’s. He had taken it out of the pack and kept it with him because of a wound in its foot, and it is thought that it did not attack the Jarl without cause. Father and son had many words about something before they set forth this morning. When Helvin dashed ahead by himself, the Jarl sent men after him to fetch him back. And when at last they came to the point where the party broke up, and the women went aside to the waiting-place and each man struck out for himself, Starkad forced Helvin to ride apart with him, though it was seen by every one that the young man had the greatest dread of accompanying him. What passed between them Helvin does not tell, and no one dares ask, but it is guessed that Starkad worked himself into a Berserk rage and fell upon him—”
“Odin!” gasped Erna, and at the same time crossed herself.
“And that the dog broke loose to protect its master. And many believe that the taste of blood maddened it so that it went so far as to attack Helvin when he dragged it off the Jarl, for the claws had torn the silver lace on his sleeves, and one of the proofs that he must have been grappling with it when he slew it is that his kirtle is all one gore of blood—What do you say?”
But Randvar would not repeat the curse that had been wrung from him; and Bolverk, encountering Snowfrid’s horrified gaze, became diverted by the amiable desire to recall her blushing smile.
“And that,” he went on, “is the beginning of the reason why this bright-haired maiden of victory found me battling with thorns and led me to Valhalla. When a move was made to go back to the Town, Helvin seemed to come crazy out of his black silence. He vowed that he would have one night of freedom before the rule came on him, and forbade any to follow, and broke from us into the forest—It is likely you know, also, that he has dreaded the rule more than most men dread Hel! But old Mord, who was the first of Starkad’s advice-givers, counselled us to follow at a distance, that we might be within call in case danger threatened him from Skraellings or other wild animals. In the moonlight we kept him in sight almost to the head of your Island, but there it happened that we lost him. The rest declared that he had turned aside, and I declared that he had not; so I set out alone, and finding so plain a path, kept on out of adventuresomeness. It is possible that I shall have to stand some banter, and yet I cannot find it in my heart to be sorry about my blunder.” Again he winked at Snowfrid over the huge fist caressing his yellow mustache, then drew himself up with a prodigious sigh. “My one regret is that I must now return to my duty. Will you not guide me back as far as the cabin, my fair one? I cannot seem to remember the way at all between here and there.”