Glumm gains a Great Private Victory—The Dalesmen assemble to fight for Freedom—The Foe appears, and the Signal of Battle is sounded.  
Again we return to the mound near Ulfstede, the top of which was now bathed in the rays of the morning sun—for the day had only begun, the events narrated at the end of the last chapter having occurred within a period of less than three hours.
 
Here stood the fair Hilda and the volatile Ada, the former leaning on the arm of the latter, and both gazing intently and in silence on the heart-stirring scene before them. Once again Horlingdal with its fiord was the scene of an assembly of armed men, but this time the concourse was grander, because much greater, than on a previous occasion. Men had learned by recent events that momentous changes were taking place in the land. The news of the King’s acts had been carried far and wide. Everyone felt that a decisive blow was about to be struck somewhere, and although many hundreds had little or no opinion of their own as to what was best for the interests of the kingdom, they knew that a side must be taken, and were quite willing to take that which appeared to be the right, or which seemed most likely to win, while a large proportion of them were intelligently and resolutely opposed to the King’s designs. Thus, when the war-token was sent round, it was answered promptly. Those who dwelt nearest to the place of rendezvous were soon assembled in great numbers, and, from the elevated point on which the girls stood, their glittering masses could be seen on the shore, while they launched their longships and loaded them with stones—the ammunition of those days—or passed briskly to and fro with arms and provisions; while all up the valley, as far as the eye could see, even to the faint blue distance, in the haze of which the glaciers and clouds and mountain tops seemed to commingle, troops of armed men could be seen pouring down from gorge and glen, through wood and furze and fen. On the fiord, too, the same activity and concentration prevailed, though not quite to the same extent. Constantly there swept round the promontories to the north and south, boat after boat, and ship after ship, until the bay close below Ulfstede was crowded with war-craft of every size—their gay sails, and in some cases gilded masts and figureheads, glancing in the sunshine, and their shield-circled gunwales reflected clearly in the sea.
 
“What a grand sight!” exclaimed Ada with enthusiasm, as she listened to the deep-toned hum of the busy multitude below.
 
“Would God I had never seen it!” said her companion.
 
“Out upon thee, Hilda! I scarce deem thee fit to be a free Norse maiden. Such a scene would stir the heart of stone.”
 
“It does stir my heart strangely, sister,” replied Hilda, “I scarcely can explain how. I feel exultation when I see the might of our district, and the bold bearing of our brave and brisk men; but my heart sinks again when I think of what is to come—the blood of men flowing like water, death sweeping them down like grain before the sickle; and for what? Ada, these go not forth to defend us from our enemies, they go to war with brothers and kindred—with Norsemen.”
 
Ada beat her foot impatiently on the sod, and frowned a little as she said—
 
“I know it well enough, but it is a grand sight for all that, and it does no good to peep into the future as thou art doing continually.”
 
“I do not peep,” replied Hilda; “the future stares me full in the face.”
 
“Well, let it stare, sister mine,” said Ada, with a laugh, as she cleared her brow, “and stare past its face at what lies before thee at present, which is beautiful enough, thou must allow.”
 
At that moment there seemed to be increasing bustle and energy on the part of the warriors on the shore, and the murmur of their voices grew louder.
 
“What can that mean, I wonder?” said Ada.
 
“Fresh news arrived, perhaps,” replied her friend. “The Christians’ God grant that this war may be averted!”
 
“Amen, if it be His will,” said a deep voice behind the girls, who turned and found the hermit standing at their side. “But, Hilda,” he continued, “God does not always answer our prayers in the way we expect—sometimes because we pray for the wrong thing, and sometimes because we pray that the right thing may come to us in the wrong way. I like best to end my petitions with the words of my dear Saviour Jesus Christ— ‘Thy will be done.’ Just now it would seem as if war were ordained to go on, for a scout has just come in to say that King Harald with his fleet is on the other side of yonder point, and I am sent to fetch thee down to a place of safety without delay.”
 
“Who sent thee?” demanded Ada.
 
“Thy foster-father.”
 
“Methinks we are safe enough here,” she said, with a gesture of impatience.
 
“Aye, if we win the day, but not if we lose it,” said the old man.
 
“Come,” said Hilda, “we must obey our father.”
 
“I have no intention of disobeying him,” retorted the other, tossing her head.
 
Just then Alric ran up with a look of anxiety on his swelled and blood-stained face.
 
“Come, girls, ye are in the way here. Haste—ah! here comes Erling—and Glumm too.”
 
The two young men ran up the hill as he spoke.
 
“Come with us quickly,” cried Erling; “we do not wish the King’s people to see anyone on this mound. Let me lead thee down, Hilda.”
 
He took her by the hand and led her away. Glumm went forward to Ada, whose old spirit was evidently still alive, for she glanced at the hermit, and appeared as if inclined to put herself under his protection, but there was something in Glumm’s expression that arrested her. His gruffness had forsaken him, and he came forward with an unembarrassed and dignified bearing. “Ada,” he said, in a gentle but deliberate voice, while he gazed into her face so earnestly that she was fain to drop her eyes, “thou must decide my fate now. To-day it is likely I shall fight my last battle in my fatherland. Death will be abroad on the fiord, more than willing to be courted by all who choose to woo him. Say, dear maid, am I to be thy protector or not?”
 
Ada hesitated, and clasped her hands tightly together, while the tell-tale blood rushed to her cheeks. Glumm, ever stupid on these matters, said no other word, but turned on his heel and strode quickly away.
 
“Stay!” she said.
 
She did not say this loudly, but Glumm heard it, turned round, and strode back again. Ada silently placed her hand in his—it trembled as she did so—and Glumm led her down the hill.
 
The girls were escorted by their lovers only as far as Ulfstede. With all the other women of the place, and the old people, they were put under the care of the hermit, who conveyed them safely to Haldorstede, there to await the issue of the day.
 
Meanwhile, Haldor, Erling, Glumm, Hakon of Drontheim, Ulf, Guttorm Stoutheart, and all the other Sea-kings, not only of Horlingdal, but of the surrounding valleys, with a host of smaller bonders, unfreemen, and thralls, went down to the shores of the bay and prepared for battle.
 
It is needless to say that all were armed to the teeth—with coats of mail and shirts of wolf-skin; swords and battle-axes, bows and arrows, halberds and spears, “morning stars” and bills, scythes, javelins, iron-shod poles—and many other weapons.
 
The principal ships of the fleet were of course those belonging to Haldor, Ulf, and the wealthier men of the district. Some of these were very large—having thirty benches of rowers, and being capable of carrying above a hundred and fifty men. All of them were more or less decorated, and a stately brilliant spectacle they presented, with their quaint towering figureheads, their high poops, shield-hung sides, and numerous oars. Many proud thoughts doubtless filled the hearts of these Sea-kings as they looked at their ships and men, and silently wended their way down to the strand. In the case of Haldor and Erling, however, if not of others, such thoughts were tempered with the feeling that momentous issues hung on the fate of the day.
 
Well was it for all concerned that the men who led them that day were so full of forethought and energy, for scarcely had they ............