The Thrall of Leif the Lucky | Page 7

a
bow and drawing a sword as he ran.
Forgetting that no weapon hung there now, Alwin's hand flew to his
side. Young Haraldsson, catching only the gesture, stayed him
peremptorily.
"Stand back,--they were aimed at me! It is my quarrel." He threw
himself from his saddle, and his blade flashed forth like a sunbeam.
Evidently there was no need of explanations between the two. The
instant they met, that instant their swords crossed; and from the first
clash, the blades darted back and forth and up and down like governed
lightnings. Alwin threw a quieting arm around the neck of the startled
horse, and settled himself to watch.
Before many minutes, he forgot that he had been on the point of
quarrelling with Sigurd Haraldsson. Anything more deft or graceful
than the swiftness and ease with which the young noble handled his
weapon he had never imagined. Admiration crowded out every other
feeling.
"I hope that he will win!" he muttered presently. "By St. George, I hope

that he will win!" and his soothing pats on the horse's neck became
frantic slaps in his excitement.
The archer was not a bad fighter, and just now he was a desperate
fighter. Round and round went the two. A dozen times they shifted
their ground; a dozen times they changed their modes of attack and
defence. At last, Sigurd's weapon itself began to change from one hand
to the other. Without abating a particle of his swiftness, in the hottest of
the fray he made a feint with his left. Before the other could recover
from parrying it, the weapon leaped back to his right, darted like a
hissing snake at the opening, and pierced the archer's shoulder.
He fell, snarling, and lay with Sigurd's point pricking his throat and
Sigurd's foot pressing his breast.
"I think you understand now that you will not stand over my scalp,"
young Haraldsson said sternly. "Now you have got what you deserved.
You managed to get me banished, and you shot three arrows at me to
kill me; and all because of what? Because in last fall's games I shot
better than you! It was in my mind that if ever I caught you I would
drive a knife through you."
He kicked him contemptuously as he took his foot away.
"Sneaking son of a wolf," he finished, "I despise myself that I cannot
find it in my heart to do it, now that you are at my mercy; but I have
not been wont to do such things, and you are not worth beginning on.
Crawl on your miserable way."
While the archer staggered off, clutching his shoulder, Sigurd came
back to his horse, wiping his sword composedly. "It was obliging of
you to stay and hold High-flyer," he said, as he mounted. "If he had
been frightened away, I should have been greatly hindered, for I have
many miles before me."
That brought them suddenly back to their first topic; but now Alwin
handled it with perfect courtesy.

"Let me urge you again to turn back with me. It is not easy for me to
answer your questions, for this morning is the first time I have seen the
maiden; but she is awaiting you at the cross-roads with the old man she
calls Tyrker, and--"
"Tyrker!" cried Sigurd Haraldsson. "Leif's foster-father had that name.
It is not possible that it is my little foster-sister from Greenland!"
"I have heard them mention Greenland, and also the name of Leif,"
Alwin assured him.
Sigurd smote his knee a resounding thwack. "Strangest of wonders is
the time at which this news comes! Here have I just been asking for
Leif in the guardroom of the King's house; and because they told me he
was away on the King's business, I was minded to ride straight out of
the city. Catch hold of the strap on my saddle-girth, and we will hurry."
He wheeled Highflyer and spurred him forward. Alwin would not make
use of the strap, but kept his place at the horse's shoulder without much
difficulty. Only the pace did not leave him breath for questions, and he
wished to ask a number.
It was not long, however, before most of his questions were asked and
answered for him. Rounding a curve, they came face to face with the
riders, who had evidently tired of waiting at the cross-roads. Tyrker,
peering anxiously ahead, uttered an exclamation of relief at the sight of
Alwin, whom he had evidently given up as a runaway. Helga welcomed
Sigurd in a delighted cry.
The young Northman greeted her with frank affection, and saluted
Tyrker almost as fondly.
"This meeting gladdens me more than tongue can tell. I do not see how
it was that I did not recognize you