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Updated: June 13, 2025
'Oh, God bless your royal highness; do let me off! The beggar made me do it', she said, and wept bitterly. 'Well', said Hacon, 'you ought to smart for it; but for the beggar's sake you shall be forgiven. When she was gone, he changed his clothes again, ran by the short cut, and when she reached the cabin, there he was before her.
Now presently within the city Sir Benedict's trumpets Hew, and looking from the battlement Beltane beheld Sir Hacon mustering their stout company, knights and men-at-arms, what time Roger and Walkyn and Ulf ordered what remained of their pikemen and archers. "Beloved!" sighed Beltane, drawing his Duchess within his arm, "see yonder, 'tis horse and saddle soon must I leave thee again."
"Why my lord, 'tis very well!" sighed Sir Benedict, glancing down at his wounded arm, "I, for one, do agree right heartily." "And I!" nodded Sir Brian. "And I also!" quoth Sir Hacon, "though 'tis a far cry to Belsaye and I love not to be pent within walls, and with Red Pertolepe threatening our flank 'tis a very parlous case, methinks."
And oft she heard Sir Hacon mutter oaths half-stifled, and oft Sir Hacon had heard snatches of her breathless prayers as the tide of battle swung to and fro, a desperate fray whence distant shouts and cries mingled in awful din.
Even as he spake he reeled 'neath the blow of a heavy mace, steadied himself, cut down his smiter, and thrust and smote amain until the grim, fierce-shouting ranks gave back before the sweep of that long sword. "See, Yolande!" he panted, hard-breathing, "see yonder where my good Hacon spurs in to our relief ha, mighty lance!"
"Naebody wad e'er suspect thee o' a helping or mercifu' deed, Tulloch. Indeed na!" "Tak care, dame; thou art admitting it wad be a mercifu' deed. I heard Peter Fae say that John Sabay stabbed him, an' Ragon Torr and Hacon Flett saw John, as I understan' the matter." "Mother," said John, "do thou talk to nane but God. Thou wilt hae to lead the prayer theesel' to-night; dinna forget me.
Ragon said but one word, "Stabbed!" and then, turning to Hacon, bid him ride for life and death into Stromness for a doctor. Most sailors of these islands know a little rude surgery, and Ragon stayed beside his friend, doing what he could to relieve the worst symptoms.
"Ha!" quoth Sir Hacon, "and what of Red Pertolepe? Truly our case is desperate methinks, old comrade!" "Why, 'tis not the first time we have out-faced desperate odds, Hacon!"
It was but a little prayer said with trembling lips and fainting heart; but no prayer loses its way. Straight to the heart of Christ it went. And the answer was there and the strength waiting when Ragon and Hacon brought in the bleeding, dying old man, and laid him down upon his parlor floor.
Eric was forced to flee. For some time he was in Northumberland; he fell in the west while freebooting, about A.D. 950. KING HACON, Athelstan's foster-son, long ruled over Norway; but in the latter part of his life Eric's sons came to Norway, and strove with him for the kingdom. They had battles together, wherein Hacon ever won the victory.
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