Northland Heroes Part 3

Frithiof replied sharply: "Before I cry for peace our good swords must be tested."

Then flashed his sword-blade, the bright Angurvadel. The men fought long and cleft each other's s.h.i.+elds, but finally Atle's sword was broken and Frithiof's sword was king.

Then said the victor: "I do not wish to slay a swordless foe. If you wish, let us strive as yeomen, man to man, without weapons."

So they wrestled breast to breast as two bears trying their strength, or as wave breaking against wave. The firm earth trembled, and the great oaks scarce could endure the shock.

But Frithiof proved the stronger, and at length brought proud Atle to the ground. Angrily he said: "If my good sword were at my hand, through thy body would I plunge it, thou black-beard!"

"Go bring it! Who'll prevent thee?" cried the brave Atle. "Here will I lie if that will content thee. All must Valhal see; I, to-day; thou, perhaps, to-morrow!"

Then Frithiof fetched the gleaming Angurvadel, but the good sword harmed not the n.o.ble foe. Frithiof struck the sand with the blade, for he admired the courage of the brave Atle.

As friends Frithiof and Atle then entered the palace of Angantyr.

Everything seemed new and beautiful to Frithiof. Instead of planks well matched, leather embroidered in gold covered the walls. No rough hearthstone littered the centre of the hall, but a marble fireplace was built up against the side. In the windows were fitted panes of gla.s.s, and a key secured the door.

Here were no wooden torches as light of the feast, but waxen candles gleamed brightly in their silver sconces. The roasted stag gracing the table had gold bands on his hoofs, and flowers wreathed his horns.

Three steps the earl descended, saying to Frithiof: "Come sit by me, brave son of Thorsten."

Then was Thorsten's praise chanted by the singers, and his brave deeds were sung in the old Norse tongue.

The earl asked much about his friends of long ago. Frithiof answered wisely and kindly, and all the warriors cheered him loudly. Soon he spoke of the errand that brought him from his own land. Angantyr listened kindly but replied:

"I never paid tribute to Bele and shall not to his sons. If they wish to take it, let them meet us on the strand and see who is best. But Thorsten was my friend," continued the earl, and beckoned to his daughter, who sat near him.

The beautiful maid hastened to her room and brought back a green silk purse all deftly wrought. The ta.s.sels were made of gold and the clasps shone with rubies.

Angantyr took the treasure and filled it with gold. Giving it to Frithiof, he said: "This welcome gift is a tribute to you, my friend, but not to King Helge. And now I beg you, Frithiof, to pa.s.s the long winter hours with us, your friends and the friends of your fathers."

The Return

When lovely spring with her blue skies came again, Frithiof left his kind host Angantyr and sailed over the deep billows. Full of joy is one who has travelled far when his bark turns homeward. Memory shows the smoke from his mother's hearth-fire and the fountain where his childish feet played.

Six days Frithiof sailed, and on the seventh he saw his loved land. He saluted the cliffs and the forest dancing in the sunlight, but thought of Ingeborg. As _Ellide_ rounded the headland, Frithiof stood at the prow, shading his eyes from the sun and looking for his old home, loved Framness.

But he looked in vain! Of the stately hall ashes alone remained.

Sadly did the hero thread the blackened ruins. Then his faithful dog, Bran, ran up to welcome him. A powerful dog was he, and often had he been master of wolves. The milk-white steed with swan-like neck and golden mane came bounding up the valley. Both asked for food of Frithiof, their master; but he, poorer than they, had nothing to give them.

Then came Hilding, the foster-father with silvery hair. "My message,"

he said, "I fear will bring you little gladness. Scarce had you sailed when King Ring came. Five s.h.i.+elds had he to our one. Not long did the battle last. King Helge yielded and fled. In his flight he pa.s.sed Framness and fired the lordly dwelling.

"Ring gave the brothers, Helge and Halfdan, this choice: to give their sister to him or to lose their throne. The brothers chose, and now Ingeborg has gone with old King Ring."

Then Frithiof blamed Ingeborg for her broken vow and declared he would never believe her again. And yet his heart grieved for her, and he could never forget the friend of his childhood.

"You wrong the maid," said old Hilding. "As the sea-fowl, when its breast is wounded, dives far away from the eyes of daylight, and, with its life-blood flowing, yet gives no sign of weakness or misery, so Ingeborg in the darkness bore her suffering and I only saw her anguish.

When the wedding day came, she, pale as death, rode a black steed, following the white-robed maidens and the steel-clad men.

"From off the saddle I took the sad maid and went with her to the altar, where she uttered her vows and prayed long to Balder. When Helge saw your ring on her arm he tore it off with angry words. Then I in anger drew my sword, but Ingeborg gently said: 'Let the All-father judge between him and me.'"

"The All-father will judge," calmly replied Frithiof, when Hilding had told his story; "I, too, will judge. Now is the time when the king who sold his sister sits in the temple of Balder as priest. Him will I seek."

Balder's Funeral Pile

Midnight's sun fell upon the mountain. The beams seemed to threaten fire and war, so blood-red were they. The heavens glowed; it was night contending with day.

On Balder's altar burned a fire--the emblem of the sun--and priests stood around the wall of the temple, grasping burning brands. Near the altar stood King Helge, wearing his crown. All at once he heard the war-cry, and the clash of weapons resounded through the forest.

"Bjorn, stand fast by yonder door!"

Helge heard the cry and turned pale. Well he knew the ringing voice of Frithiof. Fiercely as autumn winds fell the hero's bitter words:--

"Here's the ordered tribute; it came Safe through the tempest's rattle; Take it; then here by Balder's flame, For life or death we'll battle.

"s.h.i.+elds behind us, our bosoms free, Fair the fight be reckoned; As the king the first blow belongs to thee, Mind thou, mine's the second."

With these words he threw the purse filled with gold in Helge's face.

The heavy blow stunned the king, and he fainted near the altar.

Frithiof laughed and called in scorn: "Are you then overpowered by a purse of gold? No one shall blame my sword for felling so cowardly a foe, for he deserves not to fall by a brave man's sword."

Then Frithiof put up his sword and turned to the statue of Balder that stood near the altar. Calm and kind seemed the G.o.d. On his arm was the ring given by Frithiof to Ingeborg but taken from her by Helge.

"Holy Balder," spake Frithiof, "be not angry with thy servant. Well dost thou know that the arm-ring which thou wearest was stolen, and that Volund's work was never meant for thee." With these words he strove to take the ring, but arm and ring seemed to have grown together. Then he became angry and with a supreme effort he loosened the ring; but the image fell into the flames of the altar.

Up leaped the fierce fire! Bjorn at the door was pale with dread.

Frithiof with equal anxiety called to him: "Open the doors, Bjorn, and let the people go. The temple is burning; bring water, yea throw on an oceanful!"

The warriors quickly formed a chain from the burning grove to the sea and the water was pa.s.sed with speed from hand to hand. Frithiof sat like the G.o.d of rain and gave his orders in a calm, clear voice. Long they strove, but in vain. The flames borne on the wings of the wind mounted to the sky. The grove was dry with summer heat and the hungry fire-king revelled midst the quick-burning branches.

Fiercely leaping from height to height, Aiming yet still higher; Oh, what wild and terrific light!

Strong is Balder's pyre!

Soon in smouldering ashes lay Grove and temple's adorning; Sadly then Frithiof turned away-- Wept in the light of morning.

On the Sea

After the burning of Balder's temple and grove Frithiof was very sad at heart. He felt that the sun-G.o.d would never forgive him, although he had not intended any wrong. His home, the lovely Framness, had been destroyed by the king. Ingeborg was kept from him, and the people of his own country shunned him because of his crime against Balder. He felt that he had no home, no country, no friends.