Tales of a Wayside Inn Part 4

To his thoughts the sacred name Of his mother Astrid came, And the tale she oft had told Of her flight by secret pa.s.ses Through the mountains and mora.s.ses, To the home of Hakon old.

Then strange memories crowded back Of Queen Gunhild's wrath and wrack, And a hurried flight by sea; Of grim Vikings, and their rapture In the sea-fight, and the capture, And the life of slavery.

How a stranger watched his face In the Esthonian market-place, Scanned his features one by one, Saying, "We should know each other; I am Sigurd, Astrid's brother, Thou art Olaf, Astrid's son!"

Then as Queen Allogia's page, Old in honors, young in age, Chief of all her men-at-arms; Till vague whispers, and mysterious, Reached King Valdemar, the imperious, Filling him with strange alarms.

Then his cruisings o'er the seas, Westward to the Hebrides, And to Scilly's rocky sh.o.r.e; And the hermit's cavern dismal, Christ's great name and rites baptismal, In the ocean's rush and roar.

All these thoughts of love and strife Glimmered through his lurid life, As the stars' intenser light Through the red flames o'er him trailing, As his s.h.i.+ps went sailing, sailing, Northward in the summer night.

Trained for either camp or court, Skilful in each manly sport, Young and beautiful and tall; Art of warfare, craft of chases, Swimming, skating, snow-shoe races, Excellent alike in all.

When at sea, with all his rowers, He along the bending oars Outside of his s.h.i.+p could run.

He the Smalsor Horn ascended, And his s.h.i.+ning s.h.i.+eld suspended On its summit, like a sun.

On the s.h.i.+p-rails he could stand, Wield his sword with either hand, And at once two javelins throw; At all feasts where ale was strongest Sat the merry monarch longest, First to come and last to go.

Norway never yet had seen One so beautiful of mien, One so royal in attire, When in arms completely furnished, Harness gold-inlaid and burnished, Mantle like a flame of fire.

Thus came Olaf to his own, When upon the night-wind blown Pa.s.sed that cry along the sh.o.r.e; And he answered, while the rifted Streamers o'er him shook and s.h.i.+fted, "I accept thy challenge, Thor!"

III.

THORA OF RIMOL.

"Thora of Rimol! hide me! hide me!

Danger and shame and death betide me!

For Olaf the King is hunting me down Through field and forest, through thorp and town!"

Thus cried Jarl Hakon To Thora, the fairest of women.

"Hakon Jarl! for the love I bear thee Neither shall shame nor death come near thee!

But the hiding-place wherein thou must lie Is the cave underneath the swine in the sty."

Thus to Jarl Hakon Said Thora, the fairest of women.

So Hakon Jarl and his base thrall Karker Crouched in the cave, than a dungeon darker, As Olaf came riding, with men in mail, Through the forest roads into Orkadale, Demanding Jarl Hakon Of Thora, the fairest of women.

"Rich and honored shall be whoever The head of Hakon Jarl shall dissever!"

Hakon heard him, and Karker the slave, Through the breathing-holes of the darksome cave.

Alone in her chamber Wept Thora, the fairest of women.

Said Karker, the crafty, "I will not slay thee!

For all the king's gold I will never betray thee!"

"Then why dost thou turn so pale, O churl, And then again black as the earth?" said the Earl.

More pale and more faithful Was Thora, the fairest of women.

From a dream in the night the thrall started, saying, "Round my neck a gold ring King Olaf was laying!"

And Hakon answered, "Beware of the king!

He will lay round thy neck a blood-red ring."

At the ring on her finger Gazed Thora, the fairest of women.

At daybreak slept Hakon, with sorrows enc.u.mbered, But screamed and drew up his feet as he slumbered; The thrall in the darkness plunged with his knife, And the Earl awakened no more in this life.

But wakeful and weeping Sat Thora, the fairest of women.

At Nidarholm the priests are all singing, Two ghastly heads on the gibbet are swinging; One is Jarl Hakon's and one is his thrall's, And the people are shouting from windows and walls; While alone in her chamber Swoons Thora, the fairest of women.

IV.

QUEEN SIGRID THE HAUGHTY.

Queen Sigrid the Haughty sat proud and aloft In her chamber, that looked over meadow and croft.

Heart's dearest, Why dost thou sorrow so?

The floor with ta.s.sels of fir was besprent, Filling the room with their fragrant scent.

She heard the birds sing, she saw the sun s.h.i.+ne, The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

Like a sword without scabbard the bright river lay Between her own kingdom and Norroway.

But Olaf the King had sued for her hand, The sword would be sheathed, the river be spanned.

Her maidens were seated around her knee, Working bright figures in tapestry.

And one was singing the ancient rune Of Brynhilda's love and the wrath of Gudrun.

And through it, and round it, and over it all Sounded incessant the waterfall.

The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold, From the door of Lade's Temple old.

King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift, But her thoughts as arrows were keen and swift.

She had given the ring to her goldsmiths twain, Who smiled, as they handed it back again.

And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty way, Said, "Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, say?"

And they answered: "O Queen! if the truth must be told, The ring is of copper, and not of gold!"

The lightning flashed o'er her forehead and cheek, She only murmured, she did not speak:

"If in his gifts he can faithless be, There will be no gold in his love to me."

A footstep was heard on the outer stair, And in strode King Olaf with royal air.

He kissed the Queen's hand, and he whispered of love, And swore to be true as the stars are above.

But she smiled with contempt as she answered: "O King, Will you swear it, as Odin once swore, on the ring?"