Then the storm began again, and he heard steps behind him, and a breathless panting. He did not dare to turn this time, for he knew that it was the white monk. He came from the banquet in Berg’s great hall, covered with blood, and with an open ax cut in his forehead. And he whispered: “Betray him. Give him up, that you may save his soul.”
Tord began to run. All this terror grew and grew in him, and he tried to flee from it. But as he ran he heard behind him the deep, mighty voice, which he knew was the voice of God. It was God himself pursuing him, demanding that he should give up the murderer. Berg’s crime seemed more horrible to him than ever it had seemed before. A weaponless man had been murdered, a servant of God cut down by the steel. And the murderer still dared to live. He dared to enjoy the light of the sun and the fruits of the earth. Tord halted, clinched his fists, and shrieked a threat. Then, like a madman, he ran from the forest, the realm of terror, down into the valley.
When Tord entered the cave the outlaw sat upon the bench of stone, sewing. The fire gave but a pale light, and the work did not seem to progress satisfactorily. The boy’s heart swelled in pity. This superb Giant seemed all at once so poor and so unhappy.
“What is the matter?” asked Berg. “Are you ill? Have you been afraid?”
Then for the first time Tord spoke of his fear. “It was so strange in the forest. I heard the voices of spirits and I saw ghosts. I saw white monks.”
“Boy!”
“They sang to me all the way up the slope to the hilltop. I ran from them, but they ran after me, singing. Can I not lay the spirits? What have I to do with them? There are others to whom their appearance is more necessary.”
“Are you crazy to-night, Tord?”
Tord spoke without knowing what words he was using. His shyness had left him all at once, speech seemed to flow from his lips. “They were white monks, as pale as corpses. And their clothes are spotted with blood. They draw their hoods down over their foreheads, but I can see the wound shining there. The great, yawning, red wound from the ax.”