ore fearful and more lawless
than any in which he had yet been engaged.

Sintram heard the sound of his father's war-horn; and committing the
stone fortress to old Rolf, he sprang forth ready armed for the combat.
But the flames of the cottages and farms on the mountains rose up before
him, and showed him, written as if in characters of fire, what kind of
war his father was waging. Yet he went on towards the spot where the
army was mustered, but only to offer his mediation, affirming that he
would not lay his hand on his good sword in so abhorred a service, even
though the stone fortress, and his father's castle besides, should fall
before the vengeance of their enemies. Biorn hurled the spear which
he held in his hand against his son with mad fury. The deadly weapon
whizzed past him: Sintram remained standing with his visor raised, he
did not move one limb in his defence, when he said: "Father, do what you
will; but I join not in your godless warfare."

Biorn of the Fiery Eyes laughed scornfully: "It seems I am always to
have a spy over me here; my son succeeds to the dainty French knight!"
But nevertheless he came to himself, accepted Sintram's mediation,
made amends for the injuries he had done, and returned gloomily to his
castle. Sintram went back to the Rocks of the Moon.

Such occurrences were frequent after that time. It went so far that
Sintram came to be looked upon as the protector of all those whom his
father pursued with relentless fury; but nevertheless sometimes his
own wildness would carry the young knight away to accompany his fierce
father in his fearful deeds. Then Biorn used to laugh with horrible
pleasure, and to say: "See there, my son, how the flames we have lighted
blaze up from the villages, as the blood spouts up from the wounds our
swords have made! It is plain to me, however much thou mayst pretend to
the contrary, that thou art, and wilt ever remain, my true and beloved
heir!"

After thus fearfully erring, Sintram could find no comfort but in
hastening to the chaplain of Drontheim, and confessing to him his misery
and his sins. The chaplain would freely absolve him, after due penance
and repentance, and again raise up the broken-hearted youth; but would
often say: "Oh, how nearly hadst thou reached thy last trial, and gained
the victory, and looked on Verena's countenance, and atoned for all! Now
thou hast thrown thyself back for years. Think, my son, on the shortness
of man's life; if t