"How do I know you speak truth?" grumbled the guard.
"Go and ask Rognor; I will stand guard while you go. If he flays your back for disturbing him, don't blame me."
"Go in, in the name of Loki," snarled the guard. "But do not tarry too long."
There was a fumbling of bolts and bars; the door swung open, framing a tall, lithe form; then it closed again. Cormac Mac Art looked down at the prostrate Hakon. Cormac was fully armed, and on his head he wore a helmet with a crest ornamented with flowing horse hair. This seemed to make him inhumanly tall and, in the flickering, illusive light which heightened the darkness and sinisterness of his appearance, the Gaelic pirate seemed not unlike some sombre demon come to taunt a captive in a shadowy corner of Hell.
"I thought you would come," said Hakon, rising to a sitting position. "Speak softly, however, lest the guard outside hear us."
"I came because I wished to know where you learned my language," said the Gael.
"You lie," replied Hakon cheerfully. "You came lest I betray you to Rognor. When I spoke the name men have given you, in your own tongue, you knew that I knew who you really were. For that name means 'Wolf' in your language, and you are not only Cormac Mac Art of Erin, but you are Cormac the Wolf, a reiver and a killer, and the right-hand man of Wulfhere the Dane, Rognor's greatest enemy. What you are doing here I know not, but I do know that the presence of Wulfhere's closest comrade means no good for Rognor. I have but to say a word to the guard and your fate is as certain as mine."
Cormac looked down at the youth and was silent for a moment.
"I might cut your throat before you could speak," he said.
"You might," agreed Hakon, "but you won't. It is not in you to slay a defenseless man thus."
Cormac grinned bleakly. "True. What would you have of me?"
"My life for yours. Get me free and I keep your secret till Ragnarok."
Cormac seated himself on a small stool and meditated.
"What are your plans?"
"Free me-and let me get my hands on a sword. I'll steal Tarala and we will seek to gain the hills.. If not, I'll take Rognor with me to Valhalla."
"And if you gain the hills?"
"I have men waiting there-fifteen of my closest friends, Jutes, mainly, who have no love for Rognor. On the other side of the island we have hidden a longboat. In it we can win to another island where we can hide from Rognor until we have a band of our own. Masterless men and runaway carles will come to us and it may not be long until I can burn Rognor's skalli over his head and pay him back for his kicks."
Cormac nodded. In that day of pirates and raiders, outlaws and reivers, such a thing as Hakon suggested was common enough.
"But first you must escape from this cell."
"That is your part," rejoined the youth.
"Wait," said the Gael. "You say you have fifteen friends in the forest-"
"Aye-on pretext of a wolf hunt we went up into the hills yesterday and I left them at a certain spot, while I slipped back and made the rest of my plans with Tarala. I was to spend the day at the skalli, and then, pretending to go for my friends tonight, I was to ride forth, returning stealthily and stealing Tarala. I reckoned not on Anzace, that Byzantium he-witch, whose foul heart, I swear, I will give to the kites-"
"Enough," snapped Cormac impatiently. "Have you any friends among the carles now in the steading? Methought I noted some displeasure among them at your rough handling."
"I have a number of friends and half-friends," answered Hakon, "but they waver-a carle is a stupid animal and apt to follow whoever seems strongest. Let Rognor fall, with his band of chosen henchmen, and the rest would likely as not join my forces."
"Good enough." Cormac's eyes glittered as his keen brain began racing with an idea. "Now, listen-I told Rognor truth when I said my galley was dashed on the rocks last night-but I lied when I said only I escaped. Well hidden beyond the southern point of this island, where the sand spits run out into the surf, is Wulfhere with, fifty-odd swordsmen. When we fought through the madness of the breakers last night and found ourselves ashore with no ship and only a part of our band left alive-and on Rognor's island-we took council and decided that I, whom Rognor was less likely to know, should go boldly up to his skalli and, getting into his favor, look for a chance to outwit him and seize one of his galleys. For it is a ship we want. Now I will bargain with you. If I help you to escape, will you join your forces with mine and Wulfhere's and aid us to overthrow Rognor? And, having overthrown him, will you give us one of his long ships? That is all we ask. The loot of the skalli and all Rognor's carles and the rest of his ships shall be all yours. With a good long ship under our feet, Wulfhere and I will soon gain plunder enough-aye, and Vikings for a full crew."
"It is a bargain," promised the youth. "Aid me and I aid you; make me lord of this island with your help and you shall have the pick of the long ships."
"Good enough; now attend me. Is your guard likely to be changed tonight?"
"Scarcely, I think."
"Think you he could be bribed, Hakon?"
"Not he. He is one of Rognor's picked band."
"Well, then we must try some other way. If we can dispose of him, your escape will hardly be discovered before morning. Wait!"
The Gael stepped to the door of the cell and spoke to the guard.
"What sort of a watchman are you, to leave a way of escape for your prisoner?"
"What mean you?" The Viking's beard bristled.
"Why, all the bars have been torn from the window."
"You are mad!" growled the warrior, entering the cell. He raised his head to stare at the window, and even as his chin rose at an angle following his eyes, Cormac's iron fist, backed by every ounce of his mighty body, crashed against the Viking's jaw. The fellow dropped like a slaughtered ox, senseless.
The key to Hakon's chains were at the guard's girdle. In an instant the young Viking rose, free of his bonds, and Cormac, having gagged the unconscious warrior and chained him in turn, handed it to Hakon who grasped it eagerly. No word was said as the two stole from the cell and into the shadows of the surrounding trees. There Cormac halted. He eyed the steading keenly. There was no moon but the starlight was sufficient for the Gael's purposes.
The skalli, a long rambling structure of logs, faced the bay where Rognor's galleys rode at anchor. Grouped about the main building in a rough half circle were the store houses, the huts of the carles and the stables. A hundred or so yards separated the nearest of these from the skalli, and the hut wherein Hakon had been pent was the furthest away from the hall. The forest pressed closely on three sides, the tall trees overshadowing many of the store houses. There was no wall or moat about Rognor's steading. He was sole lord of the island and expected no raid from the land side. At any rate, his steading was not intended as a fortress but as a sort of camp from which he swooped down on his victims.
While Cormac was taking in all salient points, his quick ears caught a stealthy footstep. Straining his eyes, he glimpsed the hint of. a movement under the thick trees. Beckoning Hakon, he crept silently forward, dirk in hand. The brooding shadows masked all, but Cormac's wild beast instinct, that comes to men who live by their wits, told him that someone or something was gliding through the darkness close at hand. A twig snapped faintly some little distance away, and then, a moment later, he saw a vague shape detach itself from the blackness of the trees and drift swiftly toward the skalli. Even in the dimness of the starlight the creature seemed abnormal and uncanny.
"Anzace!" hissed Hakon, electrified. "He was hiding in the trees, watching the cell! Stop him, quickly!"
Cormac's grip on his arm stayed him from springing out recklessly in pursuit.
"Silence!" hissed the Gael. "He knows you are free, but he may not know we know it. We have yet time before he reaches Rognor."
"But Tarala!" exclaimed Hakon fiercely. "I'll not leave her alone here now. Go if you will-I'll steal her away now, or die here!"