A murmur of awe ran through the crowd. "It is the sacred tongue of the
Romans; the tongue that is heard and understood by the wise men of every
land. There is magic in it. Listen!"

Winfried went on to read the letter, translating it into the speech of
the people.

"We have sent unto you our Brother Boniface, and appointed him your
bishop, that he may teach you the only true faith, and baptise you, and
lead you back from the ways of error to the path of salvation. Hearken
to him in all things like a father. Bow your hearts to his teaching. He
comes not for earthly gain, but for the gain of your souls. Depart from
evil works. Worship not the false gods, for they are devils. Offer
no more bloody sacrifices, nor eat the flesh of horses, but do as our
Brother Boniface commands you. Build a house for him that he may dwell
among you, and a church where you may offer your prayers to the only
living God, the Almighty King of Heaven."

It was a splendid message: proud, strong, peaceful, loving. The dignity
of the words imposed mightily upon the hearts of the people. They were
quieted as men who have listened to a lofty strain of music.

"Tell us, then," said Gundhar, "what is the word that thou bringest to
us from the Almighty? What is thy counsel for the tribes of the woodland
on this night of sacrifice?"

"This is the word, and this is the counsel," answered Winfried. "Not a
drop of blood shall fall to-night, save that which pity has drawn from
the breast of your princess, in love for her child. Not a life shall be
blotted out in the darkness to-night; but the great shadow of the tree
which hides you from the light of heaven shall be swept away. For this
is the birth-night of the white Christ, son of the All-Father, and
Saviour of mankind. Fairer is He than Baldur the Beautiful, greater than
Odin the Wise, kinder than Freya the Good. Since He has come to earth
the bloody sacrifice must cease. The dark Thor, on whom you vainly call,
is dead. Deep in the shades of Niffelheim he is lost forever. His power
in the world is broken. Will you serve a helpless god? See, my brothers,
you call this tree his oak. Does he dwell here? Does he protect it?"

A troubled voice of assent rose from the throng. The people stirred
uneasily. Women covered their eyes. Hunrad lifted his head and muttered
hoarsely, "Thor! take vengeance! Thor!"

Winfried beckoned to Gregor. "Bring the axes, thine and one for me. Now,
young woodsman, show thy