CHAPTER XXI.

How Sir Kolbein of Norway came by his death-wound.

While they were thus occupied, all of a sudden their attention was attracted by a loud ringing of armour and clashing of arms from the rocky cliff which Sir Archimbald had chosen for a watch-tower. Looking up, they all beheld how the count had engaged in single combat with a tall powerful warrior; nay, their eyes lighted on him just at the moment when he was almost quite overcome;--when the stranger’s enormous brazen shield was forced against his breast and forehead, till at last he fell prostrate on the cliff, and his adversary wielded a ponderous battle-axe ready to inflict a mortal blow. Scarcely could they feel assured that all this was not a mere delusion of enchantment; nor did Sir Otto or the sea-monarch perceive how it would be possible to reach the summit of that steep rock with sufficient rapidity to save the count. Swerker, however, had not allowed himself time to reflect;--with the activity of a true Norman, he had in a moment flown to the fatal spot, and now interposed his sword betwixt the fallen knight and his adversary’s battle-axe, so that both weapons started asunder, and were broken into fragments. Thereafter Swerker grappled with his enemy, and seized him round the body with such vehemence, that ere the count had time to raise himself up, they had both rolled down from the slippery rock, and, still holding one another firmly embraced, came together with a great crash on the ground. There, whether it were by superior art, or by the mere chance of the fall, the stranger had the upper hand, and, grinning like a wild beast over his prey, he held the Swede with one hand, while with the other he drew a dagger from his bosom. Swerker, however, failed not at the same moment to draw forth his sharp hunting-knife; and now, each having but one arm at liberty, they glared at one another, both watching an opportunity to inflict the mortal wound. Suddenly the stranger uttered a deep groan; his arms fell powerless; Swerker arose, and his opponent, after leaning on his hands, and vainly trying to raise himself up, at length yielded to his fate, and stretched himself motionless on the now blood-stained grass.

The knights all drew near to him, and unclasped his visor and corslet; while Hildiridur, kneeling beside him, declared, with a sigh of compassion, that his wounds were mortal, and neither healing herbs nor enchanters’ spells could save him from approaching death.

“That indeed I can well believe,” said the wounded man, in a voice scarcely audible, while a kind of despairing smile passed over his convulsed features, that already wore the paleness of death; whereupon Sir Otto and the sea-monarch recognised in this unfortunate victim the once-blooming and prosperous Sir Kolbein.

Melancholy and regret now prevailed through the circle that had formed round the fallen youth; and Sir Archimbald, with glistening eyes, said,--“Truly my heart is grieved for thy fate, young warrior, who, for my sake, hast come to this untimely end. But what injury had I offered against thee that thou should’st thus attack me at unawares, even like a blood-thirsty assassin?”--“Thou had’st taken from me what was to me far dearer than life,” said the dying youth; “and in my revenge I have aimed at thy life alone. Without Gerda I could not live.”--He paused, and then turned to the sea-monarch:--“Can’st thou remember, cousin, how, with your fiery arrows, you once destroyed my little vessel in the wide sea?--Even so has Gerda’s beauty, like consuming fire, brought ruin on my fortunes!”--Hereupon Sir Arinbiorn wept bitterly, when he thought how this blooming branch from his ancient oak-tree of the north, which might have deserved a better fate, had been untimely withered away; and Hildiridur, still kneeling over him, said, in a voice whose tones were like the sweetest music,--“Think on God, my son;--think on the merciful Giver of all good, who will not refuse to hear the prayer even of him who has been deluded and misled from his way, although he arrives late before the throne of grace and forgiveness!”--“This indeed I feel in my inmost heart,” answered Sir Kolbein, with a smile of hope and contentment on his pale features. “To him who has loved much, much will be forgiven; and God is the gleaming sun of love, whose light will at length prevail even through the darkest clouds of superstition and idolatry.”--“Alas! cousin,” said Arinbiorn, “how could’st thou remain so blind in thy days of strength and health, when the divine light now shines so brightly on thy departing spirit?--Could’st thou not yet wrestle against death, and remain for a space, with thy heart thus changed, amid thy loving friends?”--“Nay, nay,” said the youth, “thou can’st remember;--did not my little bark gleam more brightly than ever, just ere it sank into the dark sea?”--With these words a fleeting radiance shone in his eyes, but in the next moment they closed for ever, and he lay outstretched in his last peaceful slumbers on the blooming turf.

As, for a while, they stood there in their grief, gazing on each other, behold! there came among them a man in long white garments,--and this was the chaplain of the church on the neighbouring mountain. They now begged that he would vouchsafe to their departed friend the rites of Christian burial, and described to him how tranquil, and even pious, had been the knight’s last moments.--“I believe you right willingly,” said the monk; “the expression of divine peace, and trust in the mercy of God, that yet rest on these features, were enough to convince one who has been oft-times beside the dying and the dead. Pursue then your journey, in God’s name, and leave the rest to me. When you are again amid the tumults of this world, your friend now departed will not be so far distant as it may seem to you. Remember this; and now, farewell!”

Thereafter, making the sign of the cross over their heads, he gave them his blessing, and they went silently towards their horses. Sir Otto, however, could not refrain from turning back to speak once more with the monk, and thus addressed him:--“Venerable father, I pray that you will not judge harshly of me, if, in this solemn hour, I venture to propose to you one question which might indeed seem the result of idle curiosity, though my real motives are indeed very different; for, in truth, my whole hopes of earthly happiness, and even my soul’s weal, depend thereon;--say then, were the party, who but a little while ago seemed to wind round the mountain into the valley, mere phantoms? or were they indeed habitants belonging to this world?--Moreover, I would ask, whether the beautiful damsel, who rode in that procession, had before appeared in the church at prayer, with a book open before her, in the shrine with glass-work and golden bars?”--Hereupon the good old chaplain slowly shook his head, with its snow-white locks, and answered,--“In truth it sounds strange and unwonted to one of us, to hear such questions from an anxious-hearted worldling; and yet I shall willingly answer you:--If the young birds, which come forth in spring-tide, fly eagerly from tree to tree, as if wondering, and in quest of knowledge, wherefore should not man, when he is yet youthful and unweaned from this life, have the same desires?--Know then, sir knight, that the devout lady, after whom you inquire, did indeed come to prayers in our church; moreover, she appeared within the most adorned and magnificent shrine which it affords; for this place was chosen by the warrior who came with her. On yonder side of the hill, under magnificent tents, they passed some time for rest and refreshment after their long journey. Thou should’st not dream that they were but a procession of ghosts; for it was a real prince of this world, with his train, who passed here on the road before you.”--“But who then is the devout lady?” said Sir Otto; “and who is her warlike protector?”--“To these questions,” said the priest, “I cannot give you an answer. We know, indeed, that they are profuse in their gifts to all convents and shrines of the saints; moreover, to all those who are in poverty and distress; so that the greatest emperors and princes have not equalled, far less excelled them. Moreover, the hearts of all who come into their presence are refreshed, and strengthened, by their mild words and devout exhortations. Wheresoever they come the voice of dissension is hushed, and peace smiles around them; but as to their names and true rank I know nothing, nor could any one in this country give you better intelligence. Many believe that they and their train have come hither from India; that the leader is the grand priest John, of whose wealth, power, and conversion to the Christian faith, travellers have already told us. As to the beautiful damsel, they believe that she is his daughter or niece; adding, that she is already betrothed to one of the wealthiest and most powerful of our European princes.”

The priest carried in his hand a small box, in which he collected alms for the poor; and Sir Otto, in token of gratitude, placed a gold coin therein. With shame and embarrassment, however, he perceived, when the monk lifted up the lid, that the casket was already almost filled with gold, pearls, and diamonds,--the gifts, no doubt, of the mysterious lady and eastern warrior.

Now, when he had mounted his horse, Swerker came riding up, and said, in a low faultering voice,--“Farewell,--perhaps for ever,--my noble conqueror and teacher!--The Swedish eagle must straightway wing his flight back to his own mountains of the north.”--Sir Otto looked on him with astonishment, and the Swede continued,--“Mark you, Sir Arinbiorn cannot bear to look on me since I have put to death his young cousin, Sir Kolbein. Revenge, I well know, is a passion that should never be cherished by a Christian against his fellow-mortal. In the hearts of our northern heroes, however, this passion is deeply planted, so that it becomes a destructive poison, destroying even our own lives when we are denied the fulfilment of justice on him by whom we have been injured. The sea-monarch, believe me, would die of vexation if I were to be longer in his presence. Moreover, to what purpose should we, Christian warriors, assemble in your castle?--Wherefore should we meet there only to revel at your banquet-table, when perhaps there is need that we should again unite together on the battle-field, and that, by our endeavours, a gleam of the true light should be made to shine forth on the dark regions of Finland. Farewell!--When I have once more arrived in the north, I shall not fail to make known to the noble race of Swerker how deeply I love and honour thee; moreover, how truly I confide in the religion of the Christians.”

So it came to pass, that, after cordial embraces, and many kind words, Swerker mounted his horse, and disappeared swiftly as an arrow among the mountains. Ere Sir Otto had time to explain to Hildiridur and his comrades wherefore the Swede had resolved to leave them, he was already far remote, and separated from them for ever.