The Bondman: A New Saga

by Sir Hall Caine

Jorgen perceived that the people of Iceland had recovered from the first surprise and suspicion that followed on the fall of their Republic, and no longer saw Michael Sunlocks as their betrayer, but had begun to regard him as their martyr. They loved him still. If their hour ever came they would restore him. On the other hand, Jorgen realized that he himself was hated where he was not despised, jeered at where he was not feared, and that the men whom he had counted upon because he had bought them with the places in his gift, smiled loftily upon him as upon one who had fallen on his second childhood. And so Jorgen Jorgensen hardened his heart against Michael Sunlocks, and vowed that the Sulphur Mines of Krisuvik should see the worst and last of him.

He heard of Jason, too, that he was not dead, as they had supposed, but alive, and that he had been sent to the Mines for attempting the life of Sunlocks. That attempt seemed to him to come of a natural passion, and as often as he spoke of it he warmed up visibly, not out of any human tenderness towards Jason, but with a sense of wild triumph over Sunlocks. And the more he thought of Jason, the firmer grew his resolve to take him out of the Sulphur Mines and place him by his side, not that his old age needed a stay, not that he was a lonely old man, and Jason was his daughter's son, but only because Jason hated Sunlocks and would crush him if by chance he rose again.

With such thoughts uppermost he went down to Krisuvik, and there his bitter purpose met with a shock. He found Jason the sole ally of Michael Sunlocks, his friend, his defender and champion against tyranny. It was then that he ordered the ruthless punishment of Sunlocks, that he should be nailed by his right hand to a log of driftwood, with meat and drink within sight but out of reach of him, and a huge knife by his side. And when Jason had liberated Sunlocks from this inhuman cruelty, and the two men, dearest foes and deadliest friends, were brought before him for their punishment, the gall of Jorgen's fate seemed to suffocate him. "Strap them up together," he cried, "leg to leg and arm to arm." Thus he thought to turn their love to hate; but he kept his own counsel, and left the Sulphur Mines without saying what evil dream had brought him there, or confessing to his Danish officers the relation wherein this other prisoner stood to him, for secrecy is the chain-armor of the tyrant.

Back in Reykjavik he comforted himself with the assurance that Michael Sunlocks must die. "There was death in his face," he thought, "and he cannot last a month longer. Besides, he will fall to fighting with the other, and the other will surely kill him. Blind fools, both of them!"

In this mood he made ready for Thingvellir, and set out with all his people. Since the revolution, he had kept a bodyguard of five and twenty men, and with this following he was crossing the slope of the Basket Hill, behind the capital, when he saw half a score of the guards from Krisuvik riding at a gallop from the direction of Hafnafiord. They were the men who had been sent in pursuit of Red Jason and Michael Sunlocks, the same that had passed them in the hummock, where the carcase of the dog still lay.

Then Jorgen Jorgensen received news that terrified him.

Michael Sunlocks had escaped, and Red Jason had escaped with him. They had not been seen at Hafnafiord, and no ship had set sail from there since yesterday. Never a trace of them had been found on any of the paths from Krisuvik, and it was certain that they must be in the interior still. Would his Excellency lend them ten men more to scour the country?

Such was the message of the guards, and at hearing it Jorgen's anger and fear overmastered him.

"Fools! Blockheads! Asses!" he cried. "The man is making for Reykjavik. He knows what he is doing if you do not. Is not this the time of Althing, and must I not leave Reykjavik for Thingvellir? He is making for Reykjavik now! Once let him set foot there, and these damned Icelanders will rise at the sight of him. Then you may scour the country till you fall dead and turn black, and he will only laugh at the sight of you. Back, you blockheads, back! Back to Reykjavik, every man of you! And I am going back with you."

Thus driven by his frantic terror, Jorgen Jorgensen returned to the capital and searched every house and hovel, every hole and sty, for the two fugitives; and when he had satisfied himself that they were not anywhere within range of Reykjavik, his fears remembered Thingvellir, and what mischief might be going forward in his absence. So next day he left his body-guard with the guard from Krisuvik to watch the capital, and set out alone for the Mount of Laws.