s sheath, the red blade that the
Wanderer had worn, and touching its keen edge with my fingers, wept from
my blinded eyes to think that never again could I hold it aloft in war
or see the light flash from it as I smote. Yes, I wept in my weakness,
till I remembered that I had no longer any wish to be the death of men.
So I sheathed the good sword and hid it beneath my mattress lest some
jailer should steal it, which, as I could not see him, he might do
easily. Also I desired to put away temptation.

I think that this hour after the bringing of the sword, which stirred up
so many memories, was the most fearful of all my hours, so fearful that,
had it been prolonged, death would have come to me of its own accord.
I had sunk to misery's lowest deep, who did not know that even then its
tide was turning, who could not dream of all the blessed years that lay
before me, the years of love and of such peaceful joy as even the blind
may win.

That night Martina came--Martina, who was Hope's harbinger. I heard
the door of my prison open and close softly, and sat still, wondering
whether the murderers had entered at last, wondering, too, whether I
should snatch the sword and strike blindly till I fell. Next I heard
another sound, that of a woman weeping; yes, and felt my hand lifted
and pressed to a woman's lips, which kissed it again and yet again.
A thought struck me, and I began to draw it back. A soft voice spoke
between its sobs.

"Have no fear, Olaf. I am Martina. Oh, now I understand why yonder
tigress sent me on that distant mission."

"How did you come here, Martina?" I asked.

"I still have the signet, Olaf, which Irene, who begins to mistrust
me, forgets. Only this morning I learned the truth on my return to the
palace; yet I have not been idle. Within an hour Jodd and the Northmen
knew it also. Within three they had blinded every hostage whom they
held, aye, and caught two of the brutes who did the deed on you, and
crucified them upon their barrack walls."

"Oh! Martina," I broke in, "I did not desire that others who are
innocent should share my woes."

"Nor did I, Olaf; but these Northmen are ill to play with. Moreover,
in a sense it was needful. You do not know what I have learned--that
to-morrow Irene proposed to slit your tongue also because you can tell
too much, and afterwards to cut off your right hand lest you, who are
learned, should write down what you know. I told the Northmen--never
mind how. They s