'I am weary,' said Njal to his wife, 'let us lay down on our bed and rest;' and Bergthora bowed her head, and spoke to the boy Thord, the son of Kari:

'Come to the door with me and go forth with your kinsmen. I will not have you stay here to burn.' But the boy shook off the hand she had laid on his shoulder.

'You promised me when I was little, grandmother, that I should never go from you till I wished it of myself. And I would rather die with you than live after you.'

Bergthora was silent, but she led the boy to the bed, and he climbed in, and laid himself down. Then Njal said to his head man:

'Bring hither the oxhide and put it on the bed, and watch how we lay ourselves down, so that you may know where to find our bones. For not one inch will we stir, whatever befall.'

And he laid himself down, and bade the boy lie between himself and Bergthora.

So they waited.

At the doors and in the windows of the roof Skarphedinn and Grim were casting away burning brands, and hurling spears as if they had had twenty hands instead of two. At last Flosi called to his men to let be, till the fire had its way, for many had been killed and wounded already.

And now a beam which held up the oak fell in, and then another and another. 'Surely my father must be dead,' said Skarphedinn, 'that he makes no sound,' and, followed by Grim and Kari, he went to the end of the hall where a cross beam had fallen.

'The smoke is thick here,' said Kari, 'thick enough to hide a man; let us leap out one by one, and we shall be away before they have seen us.

Skarphedinn, you jump first!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW KARI ESCAPED FROM NJAL'S HOUSE]

'No!' answered Skarphedinn, 'you go first and I will follow; or, if I follow not, you will avenge me.'

'I have a chance of my life,' said Kari, 'and I will take it. We must each do as seems best to him, but I fear me that we see each other no more;' and catching up a huge blazing beam, he threw it over the edge of the roof, among the men who were gathered below.

They scattered at once like leaves in a storm, and at that instant Kari, with his tunic and hair already burning, leaped from the roof and crept away in the smoke. The man who stood nearest on the ground thought he saw something dark moving, and he asked his neighbour:

'Think you that was one of them jumping from the beam?' but the man answered: 'Nay, but it may have been Skarphedinn hurling a firebrand;'

and then they went to their own work, and paid no more heed to the figure on the roof.

So Kari was left free to escape, and he put out the fire that was burning him, and rested in a safe place till he could seek shelter with his friends.

Thrice Skarphedinn tried to leap after Kari, and thrice the beam broke under his weight, and he was forced to climb back again. Then part of the wall fell in, and Skarphedinn fell down with it on to the floor of the hall.

In a moment the face of Gunnar, son of Lambi, was seen on top of the wall, and he cried out, 'Are those tears on your cheeks, Skarphedinn?'

and Skarphedinn made answer:

'Now am I finding out in truth how smoke can force tears from one's eyes. But methinks I see laughter in yours, Gunnar.'

'Of a surety,' said Gunnar, 'never have I laughed so much since the day you slew Thrain in Markfleet.'

'Here is a remembrance of that day for you,' said Skarphedinn, and he took from his pouch Thrain's tooth, and flung it at Gunnar. And it knocked out Gunnar's eye, and he fell from the roof.

Then Skarphedinn went to Grim, and hand in hand they two tried to stamp out the burning beams, but before they had crossed the hall Grim dropped dead, and the roof fell in, and shut Skarphedinn in a corner, so that he could not move.

At daylight a man rode up who had met Kari, and had learned from him that when he had jumped from the roof both Skarphedinn and Grim were still alive, but that was many hours before, and both must long since be dead.

Then Flosi and some of his men drew nearer and climbed up the gable, for the fire had burned low, and only threw out a flame here and there. And as they looked into the hall beneath them, which was a ma.s.s of charred and fallen wood, there seemed to rise up from the red ashes a song of triumph, and they held their breath and looked into each other's faces.

'Is it Skarphedinn's song?' asked Glum, 'and is it a token that he is dead? or a sign that he is alive? Let us look for him.'

'That shall not be,' said Flosi quickly. 'Fool that you are, do you not know that even now Kari is gathering together a band to avenge his kinsmen? Therefore let every man take his horse and ride up to the Three-corner Fell, and there we can hide and take counsel how we can escape from our enemies.'

So it was done, and not a whit too soon, for a very great company scattered over the country, seeking Flosi and his Band of Burners--for by this ill name men knew them.

As for Kari himself, he begged Hjallti, Njal's cousin, to go with him to Bergthorasknoll and find Njal's bones and bury them. And, as they went, men joined them, till they numbered nigh on a hundred when they reached Bergthorasknoll.

Kari entered the hall first and led them up to the spot where the bed had stood, and where a great heap of ashes now covered it. The ashes took long to clear away, and underneath was the oxhide, charred and shrivelled. But when the oxhide was pulled away they saw the three bodies fresh and whole, as they had laid them down. Only one finger of the boy was burned, where he had thrust it outside the hide.

When they saw this a great joy fell on the hearts of all, and Hjallti said:

'Never have I seen a dead man with a face as bright as this!' And the other men said likewise.

After that they sought for Skarphedinn, and then found him, fastened by the beam into the corner, and he had driven his axe into the wall of the gable, so that it had to be broken out. And they sought the bones of Grim, and found them lying in the middle of the hall, where he had dropped down dead. And they sought the bones of other men, and found them, and nine bodies in all were carried into the church and buried there.

And that is Burnt Njal's story.

[The _Saga of Burnt Njal_.]

THE LADY OF SOLACE

There was once an emperor who had two things that he loved more than all the world--his daughter and his garden. The finest linen and the richest silks of India or China decked the princess from the moment she was old enough to run alone, and the ships that brought them brought also the fairest flowers and sweetest fruits that grew in distant lands. All the time that he was not presiding over his council, or hearing the pet.i.tions of his people, the emperor pa.s.sed in his garden, watching the flowers open and the fruits ripen, and by-and-by he planted trees and shrubs and made walks and alleys, till altogether the garden was the most beautiful as well as the largest that had ever been seen.

The years pa.s.sed, and the princess reached the age of fourteen; quite old enough to be married, thought the kings and princes who were looking out for a bride for their sons. The emperor's heart sank when he heard rumours of emba.s.sies that were coming to rob him of his daughter, and he shut himself up in his room to try to invent a plan by which he might keep the princess, without giving offence to the powerful monarchs who had asked for her hand.

For a long while he sat with his head on his hands, thinking steadily, but every scheme had some drawback. At length his face brightened and he sprang up from his seat.

'Yes! that will do,' he cried, and went down to attend his council, looking quite a different man from what he had been a few hours before.

The emba.s.sies and the princes continued to arrive, and they all got the same answer. 'The emperor was proud of the honour done to himself and his daughter, and would give her in marriage to any man who would pa.s.s through the garden and bring him a branch of the tree which stood at the further end.' Nothing could surely be more easy, and every prince in turn as he heard the conditions felt that the fairest damsel on the whole earth was already his wife.

But though each man went gaily in, none ever came out, nor was it ever known what had befallen them. At last so many had entered that fatal gate that it seemed as if there could be no more princes or n.o.bles left, and the emperor began to breathe again at the thought that he would be able after all to keep his daughter.

But one day a knight of great renown, named Tirius, arrived from beyond the seas and knocked at the gate of the castle. Like the others, he was welcomed and feasted, and when the feast was ended he craved that the emperor would grant him the hand of the princess on whatever condition he might choose.

'Right willingly,' answered the emperor; 'there is only one condition I have laid down, and that is an easy one, though for some strange reason no one as yet has been able to fulfil it. You have merely to walk through the garden that you see below, and bring me back a branch from a tree bearing golden fruit, which stands on the opposite side. If fame speaks true, this is child's play to the adventures in which you have borne so n.o.ble a part.'

'In good sooth,' said the knight, who saw clearly that there was more in the matter than appeared--'in good sooth your condition likes me well.

Still, as fortune is ever inconstant, and may be tired of dealing me favours, I would first ask as a boon a sight of your fair daughter and leave to hearken to her voice. After that I will delay no longer, but proceed on my quest.'