“We shall hide in the hill and behind it while we may,” he said.  “They may not trouble to hunt us.”

“The good father is right,” said Bertric.  “We must get away as soon as we can.  It is our one chance.  I had thought of it, but was not sure how the shore folk would greet us.  Now we must hasten.  Ask the hermit to come and help us launch the boat.”

Then he turned to Gerda, who stood with clasped hands waiting to hear the end of the rapid speech.

“It is our only hope,” he said again.  “We must take that way, though it is hard to leave these holy men to their fate.”

Then, of a sudden, a light came into Gerda’s eyes, and she flushed as with a fresh hope.

“Those other ships!” she cried.  “You said they were not Danish.  Norse or Irish, they would help us, if we could reach them!”

Bertric said never a word, but ran to the place whence he could look out to sea, and came back with a brighter face.

“They are not Danish,” he said.  “I am sure thereof.  And it is just a chance that we might reach them.  If they see we are in need, there is another hope for us, for they will meet us, or heave to for us.”

Then some fear took hold of Gerda, born of the chase by Heidrek, as I believe.

“No,” she said, “rather the poor folk ashore than chance what men we may meet at sea.”

“As you will,” answered Bertric.  “You may be right.  Now will you gather what you must needs take, and that swiftly?  Malcolm and I will get our arms.”

She went to her cell, and Fergus hurried to call his brethren.  We two went to the cell which had been given us.

“Just as well not to put them on,” I said.  “We have a long pull before us, and if armed men are seen in the boat we must be chased.”

The casket of gold was under the heather pillow of my bed, and I dragged it out.  From it we took what we could stow away on us in one way or another, and then, with our war gear bundled in our arms, went out.

Across the strait rose a thick smoke from the foot of the glen.  Heidrek’s folk were burning the wretched huts for sport.  All the fisher people would have fled at their first coming.

“They are busy now,” said Bertric grimly, nodding toward the signs of pillage.  “They will be here next.”

Now Gerda came with a little bundle, wrapped in her blue cloak.  She was pale, and near to weeping as she looked on the hermits, who were coming together from their work to the black cross in the midst of their home.  The old superior caught sight of me and called to me in his still voice.

“So you must fly, my son,” he said.  “I would that we had had more speech together.  Give this to the lady who has listened to me so patiently.  Now, I have bidden Fergus and Phelim to go with you.  They can row, and that well, and you need help.  Aye, I ken the ways of the boatwork well enough.  You will make them go with you, for hardly will they obey me, now at the last.”