had left behind lived still.

"When is he to die?" he inquired.

"Before an hour is past," said the guard.

"For what crime?"

The guard laughed. "You are a stranger in Ulf's kingdom, monk, if you
think a man needs to be a criminal in order to die. But, in truth, the
king knows nothing of it."

"What is the man's name?" said Sigurd.

"I know not."

"Did you see his face or hear his voice?"

"No; why should we? We could believe those who brought him here."

"And were they the king's officers?"

"The king's that is now," said the guard.

"Why?" exclaimed Sigurd; "what do you mean? Is not Ulf the king?"

"No," said the man. "When you went out two hours ago he was, but now
Sigurd is king."

"False villain!" cried Sigurd, catching the fellow by the throat; "thou
art a traitor like all the rest."

The soldier, astonished to be thus assailed by a monk, stood for a
moment speechless; and before he could find words Sigurd had cast back
the hood from his own head.

The man, who knew him at once, turned pale as ashes, and, trembling from
head to foot, fell on his knees.

But Sigurd scornfully bade him rise and summon the guard, which he did.
Great was the amazement of the soldiers as they assembled, to see a monk
bareheaded stand with his hand on the throat of their comrade. And
greater still did it become when they recognised in those stern, noble
features their own Prince Sigurd.

Before they could recover their presence of mind, Sigurd held up his
hand to enjoin silence, and said--

"Let two men go at once to the dungeon and bring the prisoner out."

While they were gone the group stood silent, as men half dazed, and
wondered what would happen next.

In a few moments the two guards returned, bringing with them the
prisoner, whom Sigurd greeted with every token of gratitude and joy.

"Brave friend," he exclaimed, "but for thy generous devotion this night
might have ended in murder and ruin, and these knaves and their friends
might have done their king and me a grievous wrong. Accept Sigurd's
thanks."

"What!" exclaimed the prisoner, falling on his knees, "art thou Sigurd?
Do I owe my poor life to the bravest of all heroes?"

"I owe my life to thee, rather," said Sigurd; "and not mine only, but my
brother's." Then turning to the bewildered and shame-struck soldiers,
he said--

"Men!--for I scorn to call you friends!--it remains for you to choose
between your duty or the punishment reserve