The Treasure

Elsalill could hear that the others were trying to put life into him. They asked him why he had left drinking, and even sought to persuade him that he should go and talk with Elsalill and so recover his good humour.

"You are to pay no heed to me," said Sir Archie. "There is another that fills my thoughts. Still do I see her before me, and still do I hear the sound of her voice in my ears."

And then Elsalill saw that Sir Archie was gazing at one of the massive pillars that upheld the cellar roof. She saw, too, what till then she had not marked, that her foster sister stood beside that pillar and looked upon Sir Archie. She stood there quite motionless in her gray habit, and it was not easy to discover her, as she stood so close against the pillar.

Elsalill stood quite still looking into the room. She noted that her foster sister kept her eyes raised when she looked upon Sir Archie. During the whole time she was with Elsalill she had walked with her eyes upon the ground.

Now her eyes were the only thing about her that was ghastly. Elsalill saw that they were dim and filmed. They had no glance, and the light was not mirrored in them any more.

After a while Sir Archie began again to lament. "I see her every hour. She follows me wherever I go," he said.

He sat with his face toward the pillar where the dead girl stood, and stared at her. But Elsalill was sure that he did not see her. It was not of her he spoke, but of one who was ever in his thoughts.

Elsalill never left the hatch and followed with her eyes all that took place, thinking that most of all she wished to find out who it was that filled Sir Archie's thoughts.

Suddenly she was aware that the dead girl had taken her place on the bench beside Sir Archie and was whispering in his ear.

But still Sir Archie knew nothing of her being so close to him or of her whispering in his ear. He was only aware of her presence in the mortal dread that came over him.

Elsalill saw that when the dead girl had sat for a few moments whispering to Sir Archie, he hid his face in his hands and wept. "Alas, would I had never found the maid!" he said. "I regret nothing else but that I did not let the maiden go when she begged me."

The other two Scotsmen ceased drinking and looked in alarm at Sir Archie, who thus laid aside all his manliness and yielded to remorse. For a moment they were perplexed, but then one of them went up to the bar, took the tallest tankard that stood there and filled it with red wine. He brought it to Sir Archie, clapped him on the shoulder and said: "Drink, brother! Herr Arne's hoard is not yet done. So long as we have coin to buy such wine as this, no cares need sit upon us."

But in the same instant as these words were spoken: "Drink, brother! Herr Arne's hoard is not yet done," Elsalill saw the dead girl rise from the bench and vanish.

And in that moment Elsalill saw before her eyes three men with great beards and rough coats of skin, struggling with Herr Arne's servants. And now it was plain to her that they were the three who sat in the cellar – Sir Archie, Sir Philip, and Sir Reginald.

III

Elsalill came out of the closet where she had stood and rinsed the hostess's cups, and softly closed the door behind her. In the narrow corridor outside she stopped and stood motionless leaning against the wall for nearly an hour.

As she stood there she thought to herself: "I cannot betray him. Let him be guilty of what evil he may, I love him with all my heart. I cannot send him to be broken upon the wheel. I cannot see them burn away his hands and feet."

The storm that had raged all day became more and more violent as evening wore on, and Elsalill could hear its roar as she stood in the darkness.

"Now the first storms of spring have come," she thought. "Now they have come in all their might to set the waters free and break up the ice. In a few days we shall have open sea, and then Sir Archie will sail from hence, never to return. No more misdeeds can he commit in this land. What profits it then if he be taken and suffer for his crime? Neither the dead nor the living have any comfort of it."

Elsalill drew her cloak about her. She thought she would go home and sit quietly at her work without betraying her secret to any one.

But before she had raised a foot to go, she changed her purpose and stayed.

She stood still listening to the roaring of the gale. Again she thought of the coming of spring. The snow would disappear and the earth put on its garment of green.

"Merciful heaven, what a spring will this be for me!" thought Elsalill. "No joy and no happiness can bloom for me after the chills of this winter.

"No more than a year ago I was so happy when winter was past and spring came," she thought. "I remember one evening which was so fair that I could not sit within doors. So I took my foster sister by the hand, and we went out into the fields to fetch green boughs and deck the stove."

She recalled to mind how she and her foster sister had walked along a green pathway. And there by the side of the way they had seen a young birch that had been cut down. The wood showed that it had been cut many days before. But now they saw that the poor lopped tree had begun to put forth leaves and its buds were bursting.

Then her foster sister had stopped and bent over the tree. "Ah, poor tree," she said, "what evil can you have done, that you are not suffered to die, though you are cut down? What makes you put forth leaves, as though you still lived?"

And Elsalill had laughed at her and answered: "Maybe it grows so sweet and green that he who cut it down may see the harm he has wrought and feel remorse."

But her foster sister did not laugh with her, and there were tears in her eyes. "It is terrible for a dead man if he cannot rest in his grave. They who are dead have small comfort to look for; neither love nor happiness can reach them. All the good they yet desire is that they may be left to sleep in peace. Well may I weep when you say this birch cannot die for thinking of its murderer. The hardest fate for one deprived of life is that he may not sleep in peace but must pursue his murderer. The dead have naught to long for but to be left to sleep in peace."

When Elsalill recalled these words she began to weep and wring her hands.

"My foster sister will not find rest in her grave," she said, "unless I betray my beloved. If I do not aid her in this, she must roam above ground without respite or repose. My poor foster sister, she has nothing more to hope for but to find peace in her grave, and that I cannot give her unless I send the man I love to be broken on the wheel."

IV

Sir Archie came out of the tavern and went through the long corridor. The lantern hanging from the roof had now been lighted again, and by its light he saw that a young maid stood leaning against the wall.

She was so pale and stood so still that Sir Archie was afraid and thought: "There at last before my eyes stands the dead girl who haunts me every day."

As Sir Archie went past Elsalill he laid his hand on hers to feel if it was really a dead girl standing there. And her hand was so cold that he could not say whether it belonged to the living or the dead.

But as Sir Archie touched Elsalill's hand she drew it back, and then Sir Archie knew her again.

He thought she had come there for his sake, and great was his joy to see her. At once a thought came to him: "Now I know what I will do, that the dead girl may be appeased and cease to haunt me."

He took Elsalill's hands within his own and raised them to his lips. "God bless you for coming to me this evening, Elsalill!" he said.

But Elsalill's heart was sore afflicted. She could not speak for tears, even so much as to tell Sir Archie she had not come there to meet him.

Sir Archie stood silent a long while, but he held Elsalill's hands in his the whole time. And the longer he stood thus, the clearer and more handsome did his face become.

"Elsalill," said Sir Archie, and he spoke very earnestly, "for many days I have not been able to see you, because I have been tormented by heavy thoughts. They have left me no peace, and I believed I should soon go out of my mind. But tonight it goes better with me and I no longer see before me the image that tormented me. And when I found you here, my heart told me what I had to do to be rid of my torment for all time."

He bent down to look into Elsalill's eyes, but as she stood with drooping eyelids he went on: "You are angry with me, Elsalill, because I have not been to see you for many days. But I could not come, for when I saw you I was reminded even more of what tortured me. When I saw you I was forced to think even more of a young maid to whom I have done wrong. Many others have I wronged in my lifetime, Elsalill, but my conscience plagues me for naught else but what I did to this young maid."

As Elsalill still said nothing, he took her hands again and raised them to his lips and kissed them.

"Now, listen, Elsalill, to what my heart said to me when I saw you standing here and waiting for me. 'You have done injury to one maiden,' it said, 'and for what you have made her suffer, you must atone to another. You shall take her to wife, and you shall be so good to her that she shall never know sorrow. Such faithfulness shall you show her that your love will be greater on the day of your death than on your wedding day.'"

Elsalill stood still as before with downcast eyes. Then Sir Archie laid his hand on her head and raised it. "You must tell me, Elsalill, whether you hear what I say," he said.

Then he saw that Elsalill was weeping so violently that great tears ran down her cheeks.

"Why do you weep, Elsalill?" asked Sir Archie.

"I weep, Sir Archie," said Elsalill, "because I have too great love for you in my heart."

Then Sir Archie came yet closer to Elsalill and put his arm around her. "Do you hear how the wind howls without?" said he. "That means that soon the ice will break up, and that ships again will be free to sail over to my native land. Tell me now, Elsalill, will you come with me, so that I may make good to you the evil I have done to another?"

Sir Archie continued to whisper to Elsalill of the glorious life that awaited her, and Elsalill began to think to herself: "Alas, if only I did not know what evil he had done! Then I would go with him and live happily."

Sir Archie came closer and closer to her, and when Elsalill looked up she saw that his face was bending over her and that he was about to kiss her on the forehead. Then she remembered the dead girl who had so lately been with her and kissed her. She tore herself free from Sir Archie and said: "No, Sir Archie, I will never go with you."

"Yes," said Sir Archie, "you must come with me, Elsalill, or else

I shall be drawn down to my destruction."

He began to whisper to the girl ever more tenderly, and again she thought to herself: "Were it not more pleasing to God and men that he be allowed to atone for his evil life and become a righteous man? Whom can it profit if he be punished with death?"

As these thoughts were in Elsalill's mind two men came by on their way to the tavern. When Sir Archie marked that they cast curious eyes on him and the maid, he said to her: "Come, Elsalill, I will take you home. I would not that any should see you had come to the tavern for me."

Then Elsalill looked up, as though suddenly calling to mind that she had another duty to perform than that of listening to Sir Archie. But her heart smote her when she thought of betraying his crime. "If you deliver him to the hangman, I must break," her heart said to her. And Sir Archie drew the girl's cloak more tightly about her and led her out into the street. He walked with her all the way to Torarin's cabin, and she noticed that whenever the storm blew fiercely in their faces, he placed himself before her and screened her.

Elsalill thought, all the time they were walking: "My dead foster sister knew nothing of this, that he would atone for his crime and become a good man."

Sir Archie still whispered the tenderest words in Elsalill's ear. And the longer she listened to him, the more firmly she believed in him.

"It must have been that I might hear Sir Archie whisper such words as these in my ear that my foster sister called me forth," she thought. "She loves me so dearly. She desires not my unhappiness but my happiness."

And as they stopped before the cabin, Sir Archie asked Elsalill once more whether she would go with him across the sea. And Elsalill answered that with God's help she would go.

CHAPTER VII

UNREST

Next day the storm had ceased. The weather was now milder, but it had caused little shrinking of the ice and the sea was closed as fast as ever.

When Elsalill awoke in the morning she thought: "It is surely better that a wicked man repent and live according to God's commandments than that he be punished with death."

That day Sir Archie sent a messenger to Elsalill, and he brought her a heavy armlet of gold.

And Elsalill was glad that Sir Archie had thought of giving her pleasure, and she thanked the messenger and accepted the gift.

But when he was gone she fell to thinking that this armlet had been bought for her with Herr Arne's money. When she thought of this she could not endure to look on it. She plucked it from her arm and threw it far away.

"What will my life be, if I must always call to mind that I am living on Herr Arne's money?" she thought. "If I put a mouthful of food to my lips, must I not think of the stolen money? And if I have a new gown, will it not ring in my ears that it is bought with ill-gotten gold? Now at last I see that it is impossible for me to go with Sir Archie and join my life to his. I shall tell him this when he comes."

When evening was drawing on, Sir Archie came to her. He was in cheerful mood, he had not been plagued with evil thoughts, and he believed it was owing to his promise to make good to one maiden the wrong he had done another.

When Elsalill saw him and heard him speak she could not bring herself to tell him that she was sad at heart and would part from him.

All the sorrows which gnawed at her were forgotten as she sat listening to Sir Archie.

The next day was a Sunday, and Elsalill went to church. She was there both in the morning and in the evening.

As she sat during the morning service listening to the sermon, she heard someone weeping and sobbing close by.

She thought it was one of those who sat beside her in the pew, but whether she looked to right or left she saw none but calm and devout worshippers.

Nevertheless, she plainly heard a sound of weeping, and it seemed so near to her that she might have touched the one who wept by putting out her hand.

Elsalill sat listening to the sighing and sobbing, and thought to herself that she had never heard so sorrowful a sound.

"Who is it that is afflicted with such deep grief that she must shed these bitter tears?" thought Elsalill.

She looked behind her, and she leaned forward over the next pew to see. But all were sitting in silence, and no face was wet with tears.

Then Elsalill thought there was no need to ask or wonder, for indeed she had known from the first who it was that wept beside her. "Dear sister," she whispered, "why do you not show yourself to me, as you did but lately? For you must know that I would gladly do all I may to dry your tears."

She listened for an answer, but none came. All she heard was the sobbing of the dead girl beside her.

Elsalill tried to hearken to what the preacher was saying in the pulpit, but she could follow little of it. And she grew impatient and whispered: "I know one who has more cause to weep than any, and that is myself. Had not my foster sister revealed her murderer to me I might have sat here with a heart full of joy."

As she listened to the weeping she became more and more resentful, so that she thought: "How can my dead foster sister require of me that I shall betray the man I love? Never would she herself have done such a thing, if she had lived."

She was shut up in the pew, but she could scarcely sit still. She rocked backward and forward and wrung her hands. "Now this will follow me all day," she thought. "Who knows," she went on, growing more and more anxious, "who knows whether it will not follow me through life?"

But the sobbing beside her grew ever deeper and sadder, and at last her heart was touched in spite of herself, and she too began to weep. "She who weeps so must have a terribly heavy grief," she thought. "She must have to bear suffering heavier than any of the living can conceive."

When the service was over and Elsalill had come out of church, she heard the sobbing no longer. But all the way home she wept to herself because her foster sister could find no peace in her grave.

When the time of evensong came Elsalill went again to the church, being constrained to know whether her foster sister still sat there weeping.

And as soon as Elsalill entered the church she heard her, and her soul trembled within her when she caught the sound of the sobbing. She felt her strength forsaking her and she had but one desire – to help the dead girl who was wandering among the living and knew no rest.

When Elsalill came out of church it was still light enough for her to see that one of those who walked before her left bloody footprints in the snow.

"Who can it be so poor that he goes barefoot and leaves bloody footprints in the snow?" she thought.

All those who walked before her seemed to be well-to-do folk. They were neatly dressed and well shod.

But the red footprints were not old. Elsalill could see they were made by one of the group that walked before her. "It is someone who is footsore from a long journey," she thought. "God grant he may not have far to go ere he find shelter and rest."

She had a strong desire to know who it was that had made this weary pilgrimage, and she followed the footprints, though they led her away from her home.

But suddenly she saw that all the church-goers had gone another way and that she was alone in the street. Nevertheless, the blood-red footprints were there as plain as before. "It is my poor foster sister who is going before me," she thought; and she owned to herself that she had guessed it all the time.

"Alas, my poor foster sister, I thought you went so lightly upon earth that your feet did not touch the ground. But none among the living can know how painful your pilgrimage must be."

The tears started to her eyes, and she sighed: "Could she but find peace in her grave! Woe is me that she must wander here so long, till she has worn her feet to bleeding!"

"Stay, my dear foster sister!" she cried. "Stay, that I may speak to you!"

But as she cried thus, she saw that the footprints fell yet faster in the snow, as though the dead girl were hastening her steps.

"Now she flies from me. She looks no more for help from me," said

Elsalill.

The bloody footprints made her quite frantic, and she cried out: "My dear foster sister, I will do all you ask if only you may find rest in your grave!"

So soon as Elsalill had uttered these words a tall, big woman who had followed her came up and laid a hand on her arm.

"Who may you be, crying and wringing your hands here in the street?" the woman asked. "You call to my mind a little maid who came to me on Friday looking for a place and then ran away from me. Or perhaps you are the same?"

"No, I am not the same," said Elsalill, "but if, as I think, you are the hostess of the Town Cellars, then I know what maid it is you speak of."

"Then you can tell me why she took herself off and has not come back," said the hostess.

"She left you," said Elsalill, "because she did not choose to hear the talk of all the evildoers who gather in your tavern."

"Many a wild companion comes to my tavern," said the hostess, "but among them are no evildoers."

"Yet the maid heard three that sat there talking among themselves," said Elsalill, "and one of them said: 'Drink, brother! Herr Arne's hoard is not yet done.'"

When Elsalill had said these words she thought: "Now I have helped my foster sister and told what I heard. Now may God help me that this woman pay no heed to my words; so I shall be quit."

But when she saw in the hostess's face that she believed her, she was afraid and would have run away.

But before she had time to move, the hostess's heavy hand had taken firm hold of her so that she could not escape.

"If you can witness that such words have been uttered in my tavern, mistress," said the hostess, "then you were best not to run away. For you must go with me to those who have the power to seize the murderers and bring them to justice."

CHAPTER VIII

SIR ARCHIE'S FLIGHT

Elsalill came into the tavern wrapt in her long cloak and went straight to a table where Sir Archie sat drinking with his friends. A crowd of customers sat about the tables in the cellar, but Elsalill took no heed of all the wondering glances that followed her, as she went and sat down beside the man she loved. Her only thought was to be with Sir Archie in the few moments of freedom which were left to him.

When Sir Archie saw Elsalill come and sit by him, he rose and moved with her to a table that stood far down the room, hidden by a pillar. She could see that he was displeased at her coming to meet him in a place where it was not the custom for young maids to show themselves.

"I have no long message to bring you, Sir Archie," said Elsalill; "but I would have you know that I cannot go with you to your own country."

When Sir Archie heard Elsalill speak thus he was in despair, since he feared that, if he lost Elsalill, the evil thoughts would again take possession of him.

"Why will you not go with me, Elsalill?" he asked.

Elsalill was as pale as death. Her thoughts were so confused that she scarce knew what answer she made him.

"It is a perilous thing to follow a soldier of fortune," she said. "For none can tell whether such a man will keep his plighted troth."

Before Sir Archie had time to answer, a sailor came into the tavern.

He went up to Sir Archie and told him he was sent by the skipper of the great gallias which lay in the ice behind Klovero. The skipper prayed Sir Archie and all his men to make ready their goods and come aboard that evening. The storm had sprung up again and the sea was clearing far away to the westward. It might well be that before daybreak they would have open water and could sail for Scotland.

"You hear what this man says?" said Sir Archie to Elsalill. "Will you come with me?"

"No," said Elsalill, "I will not go with you."

But in her heart she was very glad, for she thought: "Now belike it will turn out so that he may escape ere the watch can come and seize him."

Sir Archie rose and went over to Sir Philip and Sir Reginald and spoke to them of the message. "Get you back to the inn before me," he said, "and make all ready. I have a word or two yet to say to Elsalill."

When Elsalill saw that Sir Archie was coming back to her, she waved her hands as though to prevent him. "Why do you come back, Sir Archie?" she said. "Why do you not hasten down to the sea as fast as your feet may carry you?"

For such was her love for Sir Archie. She had indeed betrayed him for her dear foster sister's sake, but her most fervent wish was that he might escape.

"No, first will I beg you once more to come with me," said Sir

Archie.

"But you know, Sir Archie, that I cannot come with you," said

Elsalill.

"Why can you not?" said Sir Archie. "You are a poor orphan, so forlorn and friendless that none will care what becomes of you. But if you come with me, I will make you a noble lady. I am a powerful man in my own country. You shall be clad in silk and gold, and you shall tread a measure at the King's court."

Elsalill was shaking with alarm at his delaying while flight was still open to him. She could scarce calm herself to answer: "Go hence, Sir Archie! You must tarry no longer to importune me." "There is something I would say to you, Elsalill," said Sir Archie, and his voice became more tender as he spoke. "When first I saw you, my only thought was of tempting and beguiling you. In the beginning I promised you riches in jest, but since two nights ago I have meant honestly by you. And now it is my purpose and desire to make you my wife. You may trust in me, as I am a gentleman and a soldier."