Part 11

“Fly now, O my beloved!--fly into the forests afar from my brethren, or surely the sword of Siror will end thy days.”

Then the son of Osslab folded his arms, and seemed buried in black thoughts; nor did he heed the voice of Orna, until again and again she had implored him to fly.

“Fly!” he said at length. “Nay, I was doubting what punishment the stars should pour down upon our foe. Let warriors fly. Morven, the prophet, conquers by arms mightier than the sword.”

Nevertheless Morven was perplexed in his mind, and knew not how to save himself from the vengeance of the king.

Now, while Morven was musing hopelessly, he heard a roar of waters; and behold the river, for it was now the end of autumn, had burst its bounds, and was rushing along the valley to the houses of the city.

And now the men of the tribe, and the women, and the children, came running, and with shrieks to Morven’s house, crying:

“Behold the river has burst upon us!--Save us, O ruler of the stars!”

Then the sudden thought broke upon Morven and he resolved to risk his fate upon one desperate scheme.

And he came out from the house calm and sad, and he said:

“Ye know not what ye ask; I cannot save ye from this peril: ye have brought it on yourselves.”

And they cried: “How? O son of Osslah--we are ignorant of our crime.”

And he answered:

“Go down to the king’s palace and wait before it, and surely I will follow ye, and ye shall learn wherefore ye have incurred this punishment from the gods.”

Then the crowd rolled murmuring back, as a receding sea; and when it was gone from the place, Morven went alone to the house of Darvan, which was next his own: and Darvan was greatly terrified, for he was of a great age, and had no children, neither friends, and he feared that he could not of himself escape the waters.

And Morven said to him, soothingly:

“Lo, the people love me, and I will see that thou art saved for verily thou hast been friendly to me, and done me much service with the king.”

And as he thus spake, Morven opened the door of the house and looked forth, and saw that they were quite alone; then he seized the old man by the throat, and ceased not his grip till he was quite dead.

And leaving the body of the elder on the floor, Morven, stole from the house and shut the gate.

And as he was going to his cave he mused a little while, when, hearing the mighty roar of the waves advancing, and afar off the shrieks of women, he lifted up his head, and said proudly:

“No! in this hour terror alone shall be my slave; I will use no art save the power of my soul.”

So, leaning on his pine staff, he strode down to the palace.

And it was now evening, and many of the men held torches, that they might see each other’s faces in the universal fear.

Red flashed the quivering flames on the dark robes and pale front of Morven; and he seemed mightier than the rest, because his face alone was calm amidst the tumult.

And louder and hoarser came the roar of the waters; and swift rusted the shades of night over the hastening tide.

And Morven said in a stern voice:

“Where is the king; and wherefore is he absent from his people in the hour of dread?”

Then the gate of the palace opened; and, behold Siror was sitting in the hall by the vast pine-fire and his brother by his side, and his chiefs around him: for they would not deign to come amongst the crowd at the bidding of the herdsman’s son.

Then Morven, standing upon a rock above the heads of the people (the same rack whereon he had proclaimed the king), thus spake: