# The North Star/Chapter 25

XXV THE RED RING AROUND KARK’S NECK
As King Olaf and Father Meilge rose from breakfast next morning, a messenger told the king that a thrall craved to speak to him.
“Bring him hither,” said Olaf, and sat down to receive his visitor. In a short while the messenger returned, bringing with him a meanly dressed thrall. In spite of his shabby dress and unkempt appearance, the thrall bore himself with a confident air. Under his arm he carried a large bundle wrapped in the folds of a tunic. King Olaf looked keenly at the man. “What is thy name and what is thy errand?” The king’s tone was stern, for he liked not the man’s treacherous face.
“I am called Kark, the thrall of Jarl Haakon.”
Olaf started. “Where is the jarl now? Dost thou know I have promised full gold to whosoever shall find him?”
The thrall smiled meaningly. Olaf looked at him keenly. “Thou art his thrall, and thou shouldst be near him at this hour.”
Thore Klakka came up, and at the sight of Kark he started back. Earl Haakon must surely be close ​at hand when here was his own thrall. Olaf looked curiously at the man.
“Dost thou know where the Jarl Haakon is? If thou wilt tell me, I will give thee full gold.”
“How much gold?” anxiously asked the thrall.
“How certain are thy tidings?” answered the king smiling.
There was a pause. Olaf was looking steadily at the thrall, who seemed to be growing blacker and surlier. Thore Klakka was terrified at the evident intention of the thrall to betray his master, and the steward thought quickly as he waited. Father Meilge looked in horror at the wretched thrall. A presentiment of the repulsive revelation of that ungainly bundle entered the priest’s keen mind. Thore’s thoughts came fast, for the suddenness and enthusiasm with which the Norsemen had accepted the great viking as their king had upset all his plans. Now he eagerly desired to find Earl Haakon, for he and the overlord were so united in their interests that he would urge Earl Haakon to submit to King Olaf. Thore believed that Olaf was generous enough to pardon Earl Haakon. Then he and the earl could return to Hlade to enjoy their wealth. Thore had no prospect so desirable as serving Earl Haakon; and if the earl lost power and wealth at once, how would he himself fare? So the steward began to plan for an advantageous submission to the new king. With Erlend dead and Earl Erik in the South, Earl Haakon ​was all alone, and, so decided the wily Thore, it behooved him to hasten and offer his fealty to King Olaf, for his own sake and for the selfish sake of his steward.
So Thore, bowing to the king, began in a pleading tone.
“Now thou art lord over all Norway. I brought thee home, and thou hast come into thy own. But my King, while I joy at thy triumph, my heart is torn with sorrow for one I loved before I met thee in the Irish land. I love him not as I love thee, but he was my friend in my defenceless years, and for him I would claim mercy at thy hands.”
As Thore ceased speaking, he looked up and met the gaze of Father Meilge’s dark eyes. Something in that look awed him, though the priest’s face seemed gentle and encouraging. An unreasoning hate entered Thore’s soul, and he returned Father Meilge’s look with one of blackest import. The priest did not shrink, though he could gaze down into the turbid depths of that crime-covered soul. He saw, as in a foul abyss, the murderous intent, yea, even the murderous fate for himself. He looked sadly at the traitor, and the gentle smile upon his face and the Christ-like pity in his heart were as a shadow and an echo of the look and voice of One who said, centuries before, in the face of the most awful crime earth ever knew, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
​King Olaf turned to Thore. “And for whom wouldst thou ask mercy?”
The steward bowed his head, not daring to reply.
Father Meilge spoke to the king. “If with one word thou wouldst pardon thy enemy and help the friend of Thore, it were a noble Christian act.”
Thore looked up in eager inquiry. Olaf smiled encouragingly.
“My King,” the steward said, almost in a whisper, “pity! pity and Christian mercy for my lord, the Jarl Haakon.”
“Jarl Haakon!” cried Olaf in sudden anger, “Thou dost dare to ask pity for the false overlord who hath made such evil use of his power?”
“His power is dead, my King,” Father Meilge said.
“Remember, too, King Olaf,” Thore pleaded, “thou art yet young and hast many years before thee. Jarl Haakon is old. Cut not off his few years of life.”
“But my promise of reward—” protested the king.
“Yea, thy promise of full gold,” angrily protested Kark.
Father Meilge laid his hand upon Olaf’s arm. “The reward can be bestowed and thou canst give Earl Haakon his freedom and his possessions, to dwell his length of days and bless thy mercy.”
“Well,” said the king heartily, “so be it. Thore, with his love for Jarl Haakon, and Father Meilge, ​with his love for Christ, have conquered me. Be it known, then, that I desire not Jarl Haakon’s death, but only that he be brought to my presence.”
Thore started to go. Kark stopped him with a sneering laugh. “Thou dost not need to journey far to find thy friend. None know so well as I where Jarl Haakon is. I will bring him before ye this very instant,” and, unwinding the folds of the tunic, he revealed to their horrified gaze the bloody head of the false overlord.
Olaf’s horror gave way to violent anger. Fiercely he glanced at Kark. “Didst thou not say thou wert his thrall? Thou hast murdered him. Thou art a traitor hound.”
Thore flew at the thrall, knife in hand. “I know thee now. Thou art Kark. I will put thy head beside thy master’s.” But Father Meilge’s hand was on Thore’s arm, and Olaf’s voice was thundering in his ear. “Let loose the traitor dog! Thinkest thou I cannot deal with him myself?”
Kark dropped the head upon the ground and turned fiercely to the king. “Didst thou not promise full gold to whosoever brought the earl to thee? I did dream that thou didst put a gold ring about my neck, and I cut off his head to bring it to thee. Thou didst promise a great reward.”
“And what reward should one as false as thou receive? Thou wert his thrall and thou hast murdered him, thou traitor! Truly will I put a ring ​about thy neck—a red ring of thy own blood, for to-night thou shalt die.”
Father Meilge began to intercede for Kark, but Olaf interrupted him with emphatic refusal.
“Nay! nay, my father! Thy word in the pulpit, and when thou shrivest me, is my law, but now the king must mete out justice. My kingdom shall not be poisoned by such treachery as this. Away with him!” He called to the attendants. “Bid the headsman despatch him at sunset.”
Olaf turned to Thore, who was standing in bewilderment at this new turn to his fortune. The steward’s dream of a peaceful, easy life with Earl Haakon at Hlade had been quickly dispelled. Again the unreasoning hate of Father Meilge came over him. How else could come so great a misfortune as the death of the earl, save from the anger of the gods at the presence and power of the Christian priests? Upon Thore’s moody reflections fell Olaf’s words: “Thou wilt stay with me in my household, Thore, and be one of my stewards, for I forget not thy wisdom in bringing me to my own kingdom.”
Father Meilge looked steadily at Thore, who glanced up uneasily.
“Come now, Thore,” added Olaf, kindly, “let us over our ale further speak of thy duties. Thou shalt drink from my own horn that I may swear upon thy fealty as upon thy wisdom.” Then they passed out of the dining-hall.
​Thore Klakka’s heart was full of bitterness. Like his master, he still held to the old Asa faith. What religion he had was a strong belief in the power of the sword, fidelity to one’s friends at some times, to one’s enemy never, and to one’s own interest always. He believed that his own downfall and Jarl Haakon’s defeat were to be directly traced to the king’s defiance of the old gods. Of the Christian priests his hatred seemed to be chiefly directed against Father Meilge; and this hate was deepened because, next to Bishop Sigurd, Father Meilge seemed to be Olaf’s closest adviser. In his disappointment, Thore swore many vows of revenge. “My master Haakon,” he muttered, “stopped not at the slaying of his own son, his tenderest and best beloved, to appease the angry gods, and they gave him victory over the Jomsvikings; then why should I hesitate to cut off the life of yon priest who has so angered our father Thor, that he has swept all luck away from us. We are but poor Norsemen to let these canting Christian priests drive out our strong old gods and hurl us down from our place.”
The morning after Earl Haakon’s death, Thore was standing near the house door. Mass had been celebrated in a tent upon the lawn, and at its conclusion, Father Meilge walked beside the king to the hall where breakfast had been prepared. As they walked along, Thore Klakka caught sight of them. He was leaning against a tree waiting to speak to Olaf. ​Thore fondled his knife, and a wicked light shone in his evil eyes. He was muttering to himself the old Asa oath. “By the shield of Odin and the hammer of Thor, I swear for the life of yon priest.” Father Meilge glanced across the sward to the spot where Thore stood. The evil eyes had fastened their baneful dart straight in the priest’s face. Father Meilge started as if he had been stung by a serpent, when he met the look. A shudder passed over him. Thore’s glance was so full of hatred that for a moment Father Meilge felt as if the fiery dart of hatred had entered his very soul. Thore saw that the priest had met and understood the look. He laughed bitterly to himself. “Thou mayest well turn pale. Thou wilt be paler still when my vow is kept.” Then he sheathed his knife and hurried to the king’s side. Olaf greeted him kindly, saying, “I would give thee some instructions, for soon we will leave for our journey to Viken.”