aid his hands upon the atonement boar and made a solemn
vow to render justice unto all men, whatsoever their transgressions. The
others followed him in this, as in everything.

Because this was happening in the temple, Brattahlid, the source of
light and good cheer, was dark and gloomy. In the great hall there was
no illumination save the flickering firelight. Black shadows blotted out
the corners and stretched across the ceiling. The long benches were
emptied of all save Leif's followers and Thorhild's band of women. The
men sat like a row of automatons, drinking steadily, in deep silence,
with furtive glances toward their leader. Leif leaned back in his
high-seat, neither speaking nor drinking, scowling down into the flames.

"He is angry because Eric keeps up the heathen sacrifice," the women
whispered in each other's ears. "He has all of Eric's temper when he is
angered. It would be as much as one's life were worth to go near him
now." Shivering with nervousness, they crouched on the bench beside
their mistress's seat.

Thorhild leaned on the arm of her chair, shading her brow with her hand
that she might gaze at Leif unseen. Sometimes her eyes dwelt on his
face, and sometimes they rested on the silver crucifix that shone on his
breast; and so great was her tenderness for the one, that she embraced
the other also in a look of yearning love.

When the house-thralls had cleared away the tables, they crept into a
corner and stayed there, fearing even to go forward and replenish the
sinking fire, though gusts of bitter cold came through the broken window
behind them.

Little as they guessed it, something besides cold was coming through the
hole in the window. Even while they shivered and nodded beneath it, a
pair of gray Saxon eyes were sending keen glances through it, searching
every corner.

As the eyes turned back to the outer darkness, Alwin's voice whispered
with a long breath of relief: "I am certain they have not noticed that
we have gone out."

From the darkness, Sigurd's voice interrupted softly: "Is Kark there?"

"I think he is still in his comer. The light is bad, and the flames are
leaping between, but it seems to me that I can make him out."

They emerged from the shadow into the moonlight, and it became evident
that Sigurd was shaking his head dubiously.

"It seems to me also that I heard the door creak after us, and saw a
shadow slip past as we turned this corner. He is always on the watch; it