the Path of King

isanovelpublishedin1921. Through a series of loosely-connected historical episodes spanning from Viking times to nineteenth-century America, the book traces how a spark of great ness passes through generations across Norman, French, Flemish, English, andScottishbloodlines. Agoldentorquebecomesaringthattravelsthrough centuries, symbolizing royal spirit that endures even when hidden among commonpeople,ultimatelyrevealingitsdestinationinanunexpectedAmer ican hero. Biorn was a very little boy in his father's stead at Hightown he had a play of his own making for the long winter nights. At the back end of the hall, where the men sat at ale, was a chamber which the thralls used of a morning-a place which smelt of hams and meal and good provender. Thereabedhadbeenmadeforhimwhenheforsook his cot in thewomen's quarters. When the door was shut it was black dark, save for a thin crack of light from the wood fire and torches of the hall. The crack made on the earthen floor a line like a golden river. Biorn, cuddled up on a bench in his little bear-skin, was drawn like a mothtothatstreamoflight. Withhisheart beatingfast he wouldcreepto itandstandforamomentwith hissmallbody bathed intheradiance. Thegamewasnottocomebackatonce,buttoforay intothefartherdarknessbeforereturningtothesanctuaryofbed. Thattook all the fortitude in Biorn's heart, and not till the thing was dared and done could he go happily to sleep.One night Leif the Outborn watched him at his game. Sometimes the man was permitted to sleep there when he had been making sport for the house carles. "Behold an image of life!" he had said in his queer outland speech. "We pass from darkness to darkness with but an instant of light between. You are born for high deeds, princeling. Many would venture from the dark to the light, but it takes a stout breast to voyage into the farther dark." And Biorn's small heart swelled, for he detected praise, though he did not know what Leifmeant