“She was a woman, Sweno—and none more fair in the isles, after Morna that is mine.”
“Woman or no woman I flung her into the sea. The Gael call us Gall: then I will let no Gael laugh at the Gall. It is enough. She is drowned. There are always women: one here, one there—it is but a wave blown this way or that.”
At this moment a viking came running across the ruined town with tidings. Maoliosa and his Culdees were crowding into a great birlinn. Perhaps they were coming to give battle: mayhap they were for sailing away from that place.
Olaus and Sweno stared across the fjord. At first they knew not what to think. If Maoliosa thought of battle he would scarce choose that hour and place. Or was it that he knew the Gael were coming in force, and that the vikings were caught in a trap?
At last it was clear. Sweno gave a great laugh.
“By the blood of Odin,” he cried, “they come to sue for peace!”
Slowly across the loch the birlinn, filled with white-robed Culdees, drew near. At the prow stood a tall old man, with streaming hair and beard, white as sea-foam. In his right hand he grasped a great Cross, whereon was Christ crucified.
The vikings drew close one to the other.
“Hail them in their own tongue, Sweno,” said Olaus.
The Hammerer moved to the water-edge, as the birlinn stopped, a short arrow-flight away.