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Meantime the uproar outside grew louder than ever, and there were new sounds, a horn was winded, and there was a shout of "Dieu aide!" the Norman war-cry, joined with "Notre Dame de Harcourt!" "There, there!" cried Sir Eric, with a long breath, as if relieved of half his anxieties, "the boy has sped well. Bernard is here at last! Now his head and hand are there, I doubt no longer."
The fellow was as good as his word, and the skipper demanded the watch as pay for Eric's feed, for he maintained that he'd done no work, and was perfectly useless. Eric, grown desperate, still refused, and the man struck him brutally on the face, and at the same time aimed a kick at him, which he vainly tried to avoid.
When Eric betook himself to the orchard the next evening he had to admit that he felt rather nervous. He did not know how the Gordons would receive him and certainly the reports he had heard of them were not encouraging, to say the least of it. Even Mrs. Williamson, when he had told her where he was going, seemed to look upon him as one bent on bearding a lion in his den.
"Look here, Manders, if a rehearsal's worth taking at all, it's worth taking seriously," cried Eric petulantly. "I've plenty of other use for my time." Manders was faintly amused by the outburst and wholly unmoved. Dire experience of the jealous and irascible had taught him that he could not afford to let other people lose their tempers. "Lady Barbara will promise not to talk," he prophesied.
"And, as you said, I shall only have myself to blame if the story's not scotched here and now." "I'll propose the King's health now," said Lord Ettrick, "and then we can have something to smoke." By the simple standard of applause, Eric achieved a success. Abandoning his prepared speech, he followed Lord Ettrick's lead, picked up his cues and surrendered himself to the moment.
This I hear, further: that Swanhild, Atli's widow, hath come out to Iceland and laid a suit against Eric for the slaying of Atli the Earl, her husband, and that Eric has been outlawed and his lands at Coldback are forfeit. Tell me now, Gudruda, Asmund's daughter, if these tales be true?" "The tales are true, mother," said Gudruda. "Then hearken to me, girl.
Then, again, we read of a young Norwegian, Eric the Red, not apparently averse to a brawl, who killed his man in Norway and fled to Iceland, where he kept his dubious character; and again outraging the laws, he was sent into temporary banishment this time in a ship which he fitted out for discovery; and so he sailed away in the direction of Gunnbiorn's land, and found it.
Then he rose, and stalked grimly towards the hall. Presently as Eric walked he met Atli the Earl seeking him. Atli greeted him. "I have seen strange things, Eric," he said, "but none more strange than this coming of thine and the manner of it. Swanhild is foresighted, and that was a doom-dream of hers." "I think her foresighted also," said Eric.
Now don't ask me any more questions, or I might tell you more." But Eric had begun to wonder. What did it mean, that Ivra was part fairy? And why wasn't it safe for her to be seen in the village? And were there really witches, and was she playing with them out there in the wild day? The old woman was talking on, but he heard no more.
This is never a pleasant sensation; but they observed that Eric made a point of not looking their way, and went on in silence. "How very sad!" said Montagu. "How very contemptible!" said Owen. "Did you observe what they were doing?" "Smoking?" "Worse than that a good deal. They were doing something which, if Eric doesn't take care, will one day be his ruin." "What?" "I saw them drinking.
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