Part 10

The huge animal stood for a long time and scented the air, with its muzzle turned towards the trirema. At last it seemed to understand that there was no danger. It made a step towards the water. Behind the broad horns one could now discern more distinctly something light and white. They wondered if the elk carried on its back a harvest of wild roses.

The crew gently plied their oars. The trirema drew nearer to the animal, which gradually moved towards the edge of the reeds.

The elk strode slowly into the water, put down its feet carefully, so as not to be caught by the roots at the bottom. Behind the horns one could now distinctly see the face of a maiden, surrounded by fair hair. The elk carried on its back one of those nymphs whom they had been expectantly awaiting, and whom they felt sure would be found in this primeval world.

A holy enthusiasm filled the men on the trirema. One of them, who hailed from Sicily, remembered a song which he had heard in his youth, when he played on the flowery plains around Syracuse. He began to sing softly:

'Nymph, amongst flowers born, Arethusa by name, Thou who in sheltered wood wanders, white like the moon.'

And when the weather-beaten men understood the words, they tried to subdue the storm-like roar in their voices in order to sing:

'Nymph, amongst flowers born, Arethusa by name.'

They steered the ship nearer and nearer the reeds. They did not heed that it had already once or twice touched the bottom.

But the young forest maiden sat and played hide-and-seek between the horns. One moment she hid herself, the next she peeped out. She did not stop the elk; she drove it further into the river.

When the elk had gone some little distance, she stroked it to make it stop. Then she bent down and gathered two or three water-lilies. The men on the ship looked a little foolishly at each other. The nymph had, then, come solely for the purpose of plucking the white water-lilies that rocked on the waters of the river. She had not come for the sake of the Roman seamen.

Then Silvius Antonius drew a ring from off his finger, sent up a shout that made the nymph look up, and threw her the ring. She stretched out her hand and caught it. Her eyes sparkled. She stretched out her hands for more. Silvius Antonius again threw a ring.

Then she flung the water-lilies back into the river and drove the elk further into the water. Now and again she stopped, but then a ring came flying from Silvius Antonius, and enticed her further.

All at once she overcame her hesitation. The colour rose in her cheeks. She came nearer to the ship without it being necessary to tempt her. The water was already up to the shoulders of the elk. She came right under the side of the vessel.

The sailors hung over the gunwales to help the beautiful nymph, should she wish to go on board the trirema.

But she saw only Silvius Antonius, as he stood there, decked with pearls and rings, and fair as the sunrise. And when the young Roman saw that the eyes of the nymph were fastened upon him, he leant over even further than the others. They cried to him that he should take care, lest he should lose his balance and fall into the sea. But this warning came too late. It is not known whether the nymph, with a quick movement, drew Silvius Antonius to her, or how it really happened, but before anyone thought of grasping him, he was overboard.

All the same, there was no danger of Silvius Antonius drowning. The nymph stretched forth her lovely arms and caught him in them. He hardly touched the surface of the water. At the same moment her steed turned, rushed through the water, and disappeared in the forest. And loudly rang the laugh of the wild rider as she carried off Silvius Antonius.

Galenus and his men stood for a moment horror-stricken. Then some of the men involuntarily threw off their clothes to swim to the shore; but Galenus stopped them.

'Without doubt this is the will of the gods,' he said. 'Now we see the reason why they have brought Silvius Antonius Poppius through a thousand storms to this unknown land. Let us be glad that we have been an instrument in their hands; and let us not seek to hinder their will.'

The seamen obediently took their oars and rowed down the river, softly singing to their even stroke the song of Arethusa's flight.

* * * * *

When one has finished this story, surely the stranger must be able to understand the inscription on the old stone. He must be able to see both the elk with its many-antlered horns, and the trirema with its long oars. One does not expect that he shall be able to see Silvius Antonius Poppius and the beautiful queen of the primeval forest, for in order to see them he must have the eyes of the relaters of fairy-tales of bygone days. He will understand that the inscription hales from the young Roman himself, and that this also applies to the whole of the old story. Silvius Antonius has handed it down to his descendants word for word. He knew that it would gladden their hearts to know that they sprang from the world-famed Romans.

But the stranger, of course, need not believe that any of Pan's nymphs have wandered here by the river's side. He understands quite well that a tribe of wild men have wandered about in the primeval forest, and that the rider of the elk was the daughter of the King who ruled over these people; and that the maiden who carried off Silvius Antonius would only rob him of his jewels, and that she did not at all think of Silvius Antonius himself, scarcely knew, perhaps, that he was a human being like herself. And the stranger can also understand that the name of Silvius Antonius would have been forgotten long ago in this country had he remained the fool he was. He will hear how misfortune and want roused the young Roman, so that from being the despised slave of the wild men he became their King. It was he who attacked the forest with fire and steel. He erected the first firmly-timbered house. He built vessels and planted corn. He laid the foundation of the power and glory of great Kungahälla.

And when the stranger hears this, he looks around the country with a more contented glance than before. For even if the site of the city has been turned into fields and meadows, and even if the river no longer boasts of busy craft, still, this is the ground that has enabled him to breathe the air of the land of dreams, and shown him visions of bygone days.

SIGRID STORRÄDE

Once upon a time there was an exceedingly beautiful spring. It was the very spring that the Swedish Queen Sigrid Storräde summoned the Norwegian King Olaf Trygveson to meet her at Kungahälla in order to settle about their marriage.

It was strange that King Olaf would marry Queen Sigrid; for although she was fair and well-gifted, she was a wicked heathen, whilst King Olaf was a Christian, who thought of nothing but building churches and compelling the people to be baptized. But maybe the King thought that God the Almighty would convert her.

But it was even more strange that when Storräde had announced to King Olaf's messenger that she would set out for Kungahälla as soon as the sea was no longer ice-bound, spring should come almost immediately. Cold and snow disappeared at the time when winter is usually at its height. And when Storräde made known that she would begin to equip her ships, the ice vanished from the fjords, the meadows became green, and although it was yet a long time to Lady-day, the cattle could already be put out to grass.

When the Queen rowed between the rocks of East Gothland into the Baltic, she heard the cuckoo's song, although it was so early in the year that one could scarcely expect to hear the lark.

And great joy prevailed everywhere when Storräde proceeded on her way. All the trolls who had been obliged to flee from Norway during King Olaf's reign because they could not bear the sound of the church bells came on the rocks when they saw Storräde sailing past. They pulled up young birch-trees by the roots and waved them to the Queen, and then they went back to their rocky dwellings, where their wives were sitting, full of longing and anxiety, and said:

'Woman, thou shalt not be cast down any longer. Storräde is now sailing to King Olaf. Now we shall soon return to Norway.'

When the Queen sailed past Kullen, the Kulla troll came out of his cave, and he made the black mountain open, so that she saw the gold and silver veins which twisted through it, and it made the Queen happy to see his riches.

When Storräde went past the Holland rivers, the Nixie came down from his waterfall, swam right out to the mouth of the river, and played upon his harp, so that the ship danced upon the waves.

When she sailed past the Nidinge rocks, the mermen lay there and blew upon their seashell horns, and made the water splash in frothy pillars. And when the wind was against them, the most loathsome trolls came out of the deep to help Storräde's ship over the waves. Some lay at the stern and pushed, others took ropes of seaweed in their mouth and harnessed themselves before the ship like horses.

The wild heathen, whom King Olaf would not allow to remain in the country on account of their great wickedness, came rowing towards the Queen's ship, with sails furled, and with their pole-axes raised as if for attack. But when they recognised the Queen, they allowed her to pass unhurt, and shouted after her:

'We empty a beaker to thy wedding, Storräde.'

All the heathen who lived along the coast laid firewood upon their stone altars, and sacrificed both sheep and goats to the old gods, in order that they should aid Storräde in her expedition to the Norwegian King.

When the Queen sailed up the northern river, a mermaid swam alongside the ship, stretched her white arm out of the water, and gave her a large clear pearl.

'Wear this, Storräde,' she said; 'then King Olaf will be so bewitched by thy beauty that he will never be able to forget thee.'

When the Queen had sailed a short distance up the river, she heard such a roar and such a rushing noise that she expected to find a waterfall. The further she proceeded, the louder grew the noise. But when she rowed past the Golden Isle, and passed into a broad bay, she saw at the riverside the great Kungahälla.

The town was so large, that as far as she could see up the river there was house after house, all imposing and well timbered, with many outhouses. Narrow lanes between the gray wooden walls led down to the river; there were large courtyards before the dwelling-houses, well-laid pathways went from each house down to its boathouse and landing-stage.

Storräde commanded her men to row quite slowly. She herself stood on the poop of the ship and looked towards the shore.

'Never before have I seen the like of this,' she said.

She now understood that the roar she had heard was nothing but the noise of the work which went on at Kungahälla in the spring, when the ships were being made ready for their long cruises. She heard the smiths hammering with huge sledge-hammers, the baker's shovel clattered in the ovens; beams were hoisted on to heavy lighters with much crashing noise; young men planed oars and stripped the bark from the trees which were to be used for masts.

She saw green courtyards, where handmaidens were twining ropes for the seafaring men, and where old men sat mending the gray wadmal sails. She saw the boat-builders tarring the new boats. Enormous nails were driven into strong oaken planks. The hulls of the ships were hauled out of the boathouses to be tightened; old ships were done up with freshly-painted dragon-heads; goods were stowed away; people took a hurried leave of each other; heavily-filled ships' chests were carried on board. Ships that were ready to sail left the shore. Storräde saw that the vessels rowing up the river were heavily laden with herrings and salt, but those making for the open sea were laden high up the masts with costly oak timber, hides, and skins.

When the Queen saw all this she laughed with joy. She thought that she would willingly marry King Olaf in order to rule over such a city. Storräde rowed up to the King's Landing-Stage. There King Olaf stood ready to receive her, and when she advanced to meet him he thought that she was the fairest woman he had ever seen.

They then proceeded to the King's Hall, and there was great harmony and friendship between them. When they went to table Storräde laughed and talked the whole time the Bishop was saying grace, and the King laughed and talked also, because he saw that it pleased Storräde. When the meal was finished, and they all folded their hands to listen to the Bishop's prayer, Storräde began to tell the King about her riches. She continued doing this as long as the prayer lasted, and the King listened to Storräde, and not to the Bishop.

The King placed Storräde in the seat of honour, whilst he sat at her feet; and Storräde told him how she had caused two minor kings to be burnt to death for having had the presumption to woo her. The King was glad at hearing this, and thought that all minor kings who had the audacity to woo a woman like Storräde should share the same fate.

When the bells rang for Evensong, the King rose to go to the Marie Church to pray, as was his wont. But then Storräde called for her bard, and he sang the lay of Brynhild Budles-dotter, who caused Sigurd Fofnersbane to be slain; and King Olaf did not go to church, but instead sat and looked into Storräde's radiant eyes, under the thick, black, arched eyebrows; and he understood that Storräde was Brynhild, and that she would kill him if ever he forsook her. He also thought that she was no doubt a woman who would be willing to burn on the pile with him. And whilst the priests were saying Mass and praying in the Marie Church at Kungahälla, King Olaf sat thinking that he would ride to Valhalla with Sigrid Storräde before him on the horse.

That night the ferryman who conveyed people over the Göta River was busier than he had ever been before. Time after time he was called to the other side, but when he crossed over there was never anybody to be seen. But all the same he heard steps around him, and the boat was so full that it was nearly sinking. He rowed the whole night backwards and forwards, and did not know what it could all mean. But in the morning the whole shore was full of small footprints, and in the footprints the ferryman found small withered leaves, which on closer examination proved to be pure gold, and he understood they were the Brownies and Dwarfs who had fled from Norway when it became a Christian country, and who had now come back again. And the giant who lived in the Fortin mountain right to the east of Kungahälla threw one big stone after the other at the Marie Church the whole night through; and had not the giant been so strong that all the stones went too far and fell down at Hisingen, on the other side of the river, a great disaster would assuredly have happened.

Every morning King Olaf was in the habit of going to Mass, but the day Storräde was at Kungahälla he thought he had not the time. As soon as he arose, he at once wanted to go down to the harbour, where her ship lay, in order to ask her if she would drink the wedding-cup with him before eventide.

The Bishop had caused the bells to be rung the whole morning, and when the King left the King's Hall, and went across the Market Place, the church doors were thrown open, and beautiful singing was heard from within. But the King went on as if he had not heard anything. The Bishop ordered the bells to be stopped, the singing ceased, and the candles were extinguished.

It all happened so suddenly that the King involuntarily stopped and looked towards the church, and it seemed to him that the church was more insignificant than he had ever before thought. It was smaller than the houses in the town; the peat roof hung heavily over its low walls without windows; the door was low, with a small projecting roof covered with fir-bark.

Whilst the King stood thinking, a slender young woman came out of the dark church door. She wore a red robe and a blue mantle, and she bore in her arms a child with fair locks. Her dress was poor, and yet it seemed to the King that he had never before seen a more noble-looking woman. She was tall, dignified, and fair of face.

The King saw with emotion that the young woman pressed the child close to her, and carried it with such care, that one could see it was the most precious thing she possessed in the world.

As the woman stood in the doorway she turned her gentle face round and looked back, looked into the poor, dark little church with great longing in look and mien. When she again turned round towards the Market Place there were tears in her eyes. But just as she was about to step over the threshold into the Market Place her courage failed her. She leant against the doorposts and looked at the child with a troubled glance, as if to say:

'Where in all the wide world shall we find a roof over our heads?'

The King stood immovable, and looked at the homeless woman. What touched him the most was to see the child, who lay in her arms free from sorrow, stretch out his hand with a flower towards her, as if to win a smile from her. And then he saw she tried to drive away the sorrow from her face and smile at her son.

'Who can that woman be?' thought the King. 'It seems to me that I have seen her before. She is undoubtedly a high-born woman who is in trouble.'

However great a hurry the King was in to go to Storräde, he could not take his eyes away from the woman. It seemed to him that he had seen these tender eyes and this gentle face before, but where, he could not call to mind. The woman still stood in the church door, as if she could not tear herself away. Then the King went up to her and asked:

'Why art thou so sorrowful?'

'I am turned out of my home,' answered the woman, pointing to the little dark church.

The King thought she meant that she had taken refuge in the church because she had no other place to go to. He again asked:

'Who hath turned thee out?'

She looked at him with an unutterably sorrowful glance.

'Dost thou not know?' she asked.

But then the King turned away from her. He had no time to stand guessing riddles, he thought. It appeared as if the woman meant that it was he who had turned her out. He did not understand what she could mean.

The King went on quickly. He went down to the King's Landing-Stage, where Storräde's ship was lying. At the harbour the Queen's servants met the King. Their clothes were braided with gold, and they wore silver helmets on their heads.

Storräde stood on her ship looking towards Kungahälla, rejoicing in its power and wealth. She looked at the city as if she already regarded herself as its Queen. But when the King saw Storräde, he thought at once of the gentle woman who, poor and sorrowful, had been turned out of the church.

'What is this?' he thought. 'It seems to me as if she were fairer than Storräde.'

When Storräde greeted him with smiles, he thought of the tears that sparkled in the eyes of the other woman. The face of the strange woman was so clear to King Olaf that he could not help comparing it, feature for feature, with Storräde's. And when he did that all Storräde's beauty vanished. He saw that Storräde's eyes were cruel and her mouth sensual. In each of her features he saw a sin. He could still see she was beautiful, but he no longer took pleasure in her countenance. He began to loathe her as if she were a beautiful poisonous snake.

When the Queen saw the King come a victorious smile passed over her lips.

'I did not expect thee so early, King Olaf,' she said. 'I thought thou wast at Mass.'

The King felt an irresistible inclination to contradict Storräde, and do everything she did not want.

'Mass has not yet begun,' he said. 'I have come to ask thee to go with me to the house of my God.'

When the King said this he saw an angry look in Storräde's eyes, but she continued to smile.

'Rather come to me on my ship,' she said, 'and I will show thee the presents I have brought for thee.'

She took up a sword inlaid with gold, as if to tempt him; but the King thought all the time that he could see the other woman at her side, and it appeared to him that Storräde stood amongst her treasures like a foul dragon.

'Answer me first,' said the King, 'if thou wilt go with me to church.'

'What have I to do in thy church?' she asked mockingly.

Then she saw that the King's brow darkened, and she perceived that he was not of the same mind as the day before. She immediately changed her manner, and became gentle and submissive.

'Go thou to church as much as thou likest, even if I do not go. There shall be no discord between us on that account.'

The Queen came down from the ship and went up to the King. She held in her hand a sword and a mantle trimmed with fur which she would give him. But in the same moment the King happened to look towards the harbour. At some distance he saw the other woman; her head was bowed, and she walked with weary steps, but she still bore the child in her arms.

'What art thou looking so eagerly after, King Olaf?' Storräde asked.

Then the other woman turned round and looked at the King, and as she looked at him it appeared to him as if a ring of golden light surrounded her head and that of the child, more beautiful than the crown of any King or Queen. Then she immediately turned round and walked again towards the town, and he saw her no more.

'What art thou looking so eagerly after?' again asked Storräde.

But when King Olaf now turned to the Queen she appeared to him old and ugly, and full of the world's sin and wickedness, and he was terrified at the thought that he might have fallen into her snares.

He had taken off his glove to give her his hand; but he now took the glove and threw it in her face instead.

'I will not own thee, foul woman and heathen dog that thou art!' he said.

Then Storräde drew backwards. But she soon regained the command over herself, and answered:

'That blow may prove thy destruction, King Olaf Trygveson.'

And she was white as Hél when she turned away from him and went on board her ship.

* * * * *

Next night King Olaf had a strange dream. What he saw in his dream was not the earth, but the bottom of the sea. It was a grayish-green field, over which there were many fathoms of water. He saw fish swimming after their prey; he saw ships gliding past on the surface of the water, like dark clouds; and he saw the disc of the sun, dull as a pale moon.

Then he saw the woman he had seen at the church-door wandering along the bottom of the sea. She had the same stooping gait and the same worn garments as when he first saw her, and her face was still sorrowful. But as she wandered along the bottom of the sea the water divided before her. He saw that it rose into pillars, as if in deep reverence, forming itself into arches, so that she walked in the most glorious temple.

Suddenly the King saw that the water which surrounded the woman began to change colour. The pillars and the arches first became pale pink; but they soon assumed a darker colour. The whole sea around was also red, as if it had been changed into blood.

At the bottom of the sea, where the woman walked, the King saw broken swords and arrows, and bows and spears in pieces. At first there were not many, but the longer she walked in the red water the more closely they were heaped together.

The King saw with emotion that the woman went to one side in order not to tread upon a dead man who lay stretched upon the bed of green seaweed. The man, who had a deep cut in his head, wore a coat of mail, and had a sword in his hand. It seemed to the King that the woman closed her eyes so as not to see the dead man. She moved towards a fixed goal without hesitation or doubt. But he who dreamt could not turn his eyes away.