In the evening the old superior sent for us again, and sitting once more in the sheltered glen, he taught us, taking up his tale where we had left it, after making me speak the old tongue of his youth to him for a little while.  He was a wonderful teacher, clear and patient, and it would have been strange if we had not learned from him.

Yet I cannot say that I seemed to learn much.  I clung to the old faith of my fathers, and that was not wonderful.  But Gerda learned, and loved all that she heard.  I had to turn the words of the teacher into the homely Norse for her, and her questions were many and eager.

Somewhere about midnight thereafter, Bertric woke with a start which roused me, so that I sat up and asked what was amiss.

“I do not know,” he answered; “but it lies on my mind that somewhat has happened, or is to happen.  Somewhat evil.”

“The last talk of Heidrek has raised fears in your mind,” I said.

Then across the stone-framed window came a flare of red light, and we both sprang to our feet and went to the door.  Dalfin stirred, but did not wake.  And when we were in the open all was still in the moonlight round us, but on the mainland every hill inland to the westward was tipped with the flame of beacon fires, newly lighted.

That which had waked Bertric, as one may suppose, with its first flash, was set on the hill over the fishers’ village, whence we were to look for the signal to tell us to be ready for departure.  It had been just lighted, and blazed up fiercely as we stood outside the cell.  Five minutes later another fire answered it to the eastward, and again beyond that a third, and fourth, one after the other, as men saw the glare.

“Foes landing to the westward,” said Bertric.  “The fires run thence.  Maybe the ship we saw went down the coast and has returned.”

Now we woke Dalfin, who came out yawning, and looked.

“Danes, I suppose,” he said carelessly.  “That is the usual trouble; or else Connaught men on the raid.  Well, as we cannot get at them, we need not trouble concerning them.  And they cannot reach us.”

“The fires sprang up quickly as if men watched by them tonight,” said Bertric.  “Some enemy was looked for.”

“You have seen the like before then?” asked Dalfin.

“Not once or twice.  And for the same reason—­the Danes.”

“Have you fought with them?”

“I was at my own place when we beat them off once.”

So we stood and watched the fires until they twinkled as far as we could see to the eastward.  Westward the hill, as I have said, cut off sight of both cliffs and open sea, but over it was the glow in the sky of far-off beacons.

Fergus came out of the chapel, and I heard him give a little cry as he saw the fires.  Then he came to us, seeing us in the moonlight, which was bright.

“No need to fear, my sons,” he said in his still voice.  “Many a time I have seen those fires before, and doubtless shall see them again.  The trouble may be far off, and of little account.  Sleep in peace.”