en war. At any rate I will provide myself with a
sure weapon.

* * * * *

With difficulty did I, yesterday evening, in the sleeve of my frock,
bring my dear father's hammer into the monastery. I have hidden it in
the outer court, but where--that I do not trust even to these pages. I
think much over the question of my dear father, and I believe that soon
I shall find the truth.

* * * * *

For three days I could not write at all. The skald from King Harald's
court has again been a guest in the monastery.

I have made him tell me all about the life at that court. It is just as
in my dear father's days. Certainly King Harald and all his courtiers
are heathens, and their warlike expeditions are mostly against
Christian kings and bishops. But that does not make me waver in my
purpose, which is firmly resolved. He told me much about Gunnlodh.

In twenty nights a ship of King Harald's will sail again into the
harbour from...

* * * * *

I know now the answer to Halfred's question.

There are no heathen Gods.

But neither is there any Christian God, who, almighty, all merciful,
all wise, allowed that the father should be slain by the son.

Rather, that only happens upon earth which is necessary, and what men
do and do not, that must they do and not do; as the north wind must
bring cold, the south wind warmth; and as the stone thrown must fall to
the earth. Why must it fall? No one knows. But it must.

But men should not sigh and question and despair, rather rejoice in
hammer throwing and harp playing, in sunshine and Greek wine, and in
the beauty of women.

For that is a lie that it is a sin to long for a beautiful woman.
Otherwise must the human race die out; if all become so devout as no
more to long for a woman.

And the dead are dead, and no longer living.

Otherwise had the shade of my dear father long since appeared to me, at
my earnest entreaty.

Of what alone, however, man should believe; of that I will speak
hereafter.

Without fear shall he live, and without hope shall he die.

In this monastery, however, will I remain no longer than----.

CHAPTER XIX.

Thus far had he written, the God forsaken Brother Irenaeus. Here fell
the righteous judgment of Heaven upon him.

I, Aaron of Perusia, called by the grace of God to feed these lambs of
the holy Columb