Chapter 2

Then Frithiof spake: "To the council at Bele's mound I went. There, gathered ring after ring, sat the great chiefs of Helge's kingdom. Upon the judgment seat sat your brother, dark fate upon his brow. Near by was Halfdan, careless and like a child. To the king I spake: 'Thy kingdom is in peril and every strong arm is needed in the war. Give me thy sister and I will lend to thee mine arm. Let us forget ill-will. Here is my hand.'

"Loud cheered the throng. A thousand swords struck upon a thousand shields and the freemen cried: 'To him give Ingeborg! Strong his sword and well he deserves our fair lily.'

"Hilding spoke words of peace and wisdom, and Halfdan rose with pleading looks and words. But all in vain. King Helge replied:--

"'A peasant's son might gain my sister, but he who profanes a holy temple seems unfit for Bele's daughter. Say, Frithiof, have you not stolen into Balder's temple, against our laws, to see my sister? Speak yes or no.'

"'Say no!' shouted the brave men; 'we believe thee, son of Thorsten. Say no, and Ingeborg is thine!'

"Fear not, O Helge,' I replied; 'I would not lie to gain the joy of heaven, and I shall not now to gain thy sister. I have seen Ingeborg in Balder's temple, but the laws I have not broken.'

"More they would not let me say. They looked at me with dread as one accursed. 'Though I could order thy death by the laws of our fathers,' said Helge, 'yet will I be mild as Balder whose sacred dwelling thou hast profaned. Across the sea lives Angantyr, who tribute owes to us. Go thither and when summer comes bring back this tribute, or to every man thou wilt be as one without honour, and outlawed shalt thou be.'"

"What did you decide, my Frithiof?"

"Could I choose? Must I not get the gold and thus redeem my honour? To-day I will depart and will get for your brother the gold he craves. But we, my Ingeborg, will sail in _Ellide_ to a friendly land. A little earth from our fathers' graves we'll place upon our ships, and that will be our fatherland. Often has my father told of the beautiful islands of Greece--fresh groves of green in shining waves. There golden apples glow and blushing grapes hang down from every bough. There will we build a little North, more beautiful than this. Happiness stands near to human hearts if they are brave enough to seize it. Come, let us go! All is ready, and _Ellide_ stretches her shadowy wings for flight."

"I cannot go. Dear friend, be not angry. I am not free to go, like you. Helge is now my father, and on his will I go or stay. I will not steal my happiness. Last night I thought about my fate. I must remain obedient to my brother. A child of the Northland cannot live in the south. With eyes filled with tears should I look for the bright northern star which stands over our fathers' graves. And you, my Frithiof, must not desert the land you were born to guard. Let us yield to the voice of duty. Let us save our honour though our happiness be lost!"

"Necessity commands our flight. Come, Ingeborg!"

"What's right and noble, that's necessity."

"Consider well. Is that your last resolve?"

"It is my last. But remember that my thought will follow you wherever you may go. When evening comes I will send a greeting, and the fleeting cloud shall bear it unto you."

"You have conquered, my Ingeborg. A noble mind best teaches what is noble. To-day I yield and leave you. But in the earliest spring I shall return and in open council of the sons of the Northland, who alone can give the hand of a princess, will I demand you. Farewell till then. For memory wear this arm-ring, the work of Volund, graven with heaven's wonders. But the best of wonders is a faithful heart."

So, full of hope, did Frithiof leave, but Ingeborg feared her gloomy brother, knowing well how he hated the noble Frithiof. To herself she said: "Never will he give me to thee, dear childhood's friend. Rather will he wed me to King Ring whom he fights. No hope do I see, yet I am glad thy heart can hope. May all the good gods follow thee."

Frithiof and Angantyr

Over the sea sailed Frithiof with his friends in the good ship _Ellide_ to the home of the brave earl Angantyr. The old man, joyous and light-hearted, one day looked over the sea and saw the white-winged ship bringing the brave heroes.

"That is _Ellide_ coming, and the hero with firm and steady step is Frithiof, son of Thorsten. No one in the Northland has so brave a brow and so bright a smile."

Then the sturdy Atle sprang up crying: "Now will I go and prove what truth there is in the report that Frithiof breaks all swords and never sues for peace."

When he saw Frithiof he cried: "No one comes here but he either fights or flies. If you beg for peace, I shall receive you in friendship and take you to the earl."

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 shields, 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 noble 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 glass, 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 tassels 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 pass 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 shields had he to our one. Not long did the battle last. King Helge yielded and fled. In his flight he passed 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.

"Shields 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 god. 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 passed with speed from hand to hand. Frithiof sat like the god 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-god 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.

One refuge he had--the swift-flying ship _Ellide_. From her deck he saw the fires still burning in Balder's grove. Grief filled his heart. "Gone is the temple of the white god. In ashes are the groves once never neglected! And I am to blame; anger and haste made me forget time and place, the reverence due in that holy temple!"

Over the blue sea where wild waves sing, _Ellide_ flew. Frithiof felt at home in the tempest on the rocking ship--this was his Northland, these on board were his only friends. The sea knows no king, and Helge's wrath could not reach him on its waves.

But lo! from a hiding-place in the high rocks King Helge sends out ten dragon ships. The warriors with Frithiof rejoice and laugh at the king, for Bjorn had, unknown to all, leaped into the sea and bored holes in the boat-keels. Down sank the ships and many men were drowned, but Helge escaped.

In wrath the king drew his bow, but it broke. Then Frithiof aimed his lance. "A death bird have I here, false king! but my lance refuses to drink thy coward blood. It is too good for food so craven!"

So speaking Frithiof seized his oars--huge blades of fir, and swiftly moved away.

Where foam-crest swimmeth _Ellide_ skimmeth On joyous wings; But Frithiof sings:

"Thou front of creation, Exalted North! I have no station On thy green earth. Thy lineage sharing My pride doth swell, Thou home of daring! Farewell, farewell!"

And that you also may sing Frithiof's song, the last verse is given with the music.

The Viking's Code

Over the foaming sea Frithiof sailed, seeking strange lands and adventures. Like a falcon in search of its prey flew the good boat, _Ellide_, over the waves.

To the champions on board Frithiof gave this law of the viking:--

Make no tent on thy ship, never sleep in a house, for a foe within doors you may view; On his shield sleeps the viking; his sword in his hand, and his tent is the heavenly blue.

When the storm rageth fierce, hoist the sail to the top-- O how merry the storm-king appears; Let her drive! let her drive! better founder than strike, for who strikes is a slave to his fears.

If a merchant sail by, you must shelter his ship, but the weak will not tribute withhold; You are king of the waves, he a slave to his gains; and your steel is as good as his gold.

Let your goods be divided by lot or by dice, how it falls you may never complain; But the sea-king himself takes no part in the lots--he considers the honour his gain.

If a viking-ship come, there is grappling and strife, and the fight 'neath the shields will rejoice; If you yield but a pace you are parted from us; 'tis the law, you may act by your choice.

If you win, be content: he who, praying for peace, yields his sword, is no longer a foe! Prayer's a Valhalla-child, hear the suppliant voice; he's a coward who answereth no.

Wounds are viking's reward, and the pride of the man on whose breast or whose forehead they stand; Let them bleed on unbound till the close of the day, if you wish to be one of our band.

Frithiof's Return

Such was the law of the vikings which Frithiof gave to his men. Day by day his name became more renowned through foreign lands. No viking was brave as Frithiof, and none had braver followers. When the conflict came, his spirit rose like an eagle refreshed for its flight. A smile was on his face and his voice rang clear above the noise of the battle.

After many conquests he sailed to Greece. In her beautiful seas he found many green islands. On the shores were green groves and temples gleaming with pillars. Here it seemed peace must have its home. The murmuring fountains and the sweet songs of the birds made music in the groves.

But in the midst of all this beauty Frithiof thought of his home in the north. There was the friend of his youth, the fair Ingeborg. There were the grave-mounds of his fathers. Around the groves and shrines of his country gathered the memories of his early years, and no matter how lovely any other land might be, his heart returned to his home land.

"Three years have passed since I saw the Northland, the land of heroes. How I long to see those loved shores once more! The tree that I planted on the grave-mound of my father--can it be that it lives now? Why do I linger in distant waves, taking tribute and conquering in war? My soul despises the glittering gold, and enough have I of renown.

"There's a flag on the mast and it points to the north, in the north is the land I hold dear; I will follow the course of the heavenly winds, and back to the Northland I'll steer."

To his foster-brother Frithiof said: "Bjorn, I am weary of riding the sea. My heart longs for the firm earth of the Northland, and her lofty mountains are calling to me. Tired am I of this life on the sea and too long have I wandered an exile from home."

"Frithiof, why do you complain?" asked Bjorn. "Freedom and joy flourish best on the sea. When I am old I too will turn to the green-growing land with the grass for my pillow. But now I'll fight with a free hand and enjoy the freedom of the billows."

So the dragon ship sailed for far northern waters. The ice closed in around them and Frithiof declared he would not spend the winter on the desolate shore. He would go as a stranger to the palace of King Ring and see Ingeborg once more.

"Good!" exclaimed Bjorn. "Right glad will I be to fight the king and to let him feel a viking's power. We will fire the palace of the greybeard and carry his queen away with us; or, if you wish, challenge him to a fight on the ice."

"No!" replied Frithiof; "no fight have I with King Ring. His is not the fault. But peace would I bear to them both and say farewell to Ingeborg. When spring returns you see Frithiof here."

"You may be prevented from returning, Frithiof; go not alone!" said Bjorn.

But Frithiof had no fear and laughed at the warnings of Bjorn. Alone he went with his good sword to the country of the old King Ring.

King Ring and the Stranger

In the kingdom of the north reigned King Ring. Old was he now and white-haired, but noble and brave. At the merry Yuletime he held a great feast in the royal hall. High on the throne of state he sat, and beside him was his fair young queen, the gentle Ingeborg.

Into the spacious hall came a man unknown to any there. A bear-skin covered him from head to foot. He leaned heavily upon a staff, but even then he was taller than any warrior in the hall. He chose for rest a seat upon the bench beside the door. This is now the poor man's place and has always been. Some of the young men laughed at the beggar dressed in the skin of the wild bear and pointed the finger at him.

The stranger's eyes flashed and all felt his anger. Quickly he seized one of the young men by the belt and shook him so that all were suddenly silent in the hall.

"What causes such commotion?" cried the angry monarch. "Who dares disturb our peace? Old man, come here and answer. What is your name, your place, your errand?"

The old man replied: "Many questions you ask, O King, but every one will I answer. My name belongs to me alone and I'll not give it. My birth-place was misfortune and all I possess is want. I have come hither from the wolf so fierce and gaunt. In youth I bestrode a dragon on the blue waters, but now I am old and feeble and must live upon the land. As to my errand, I came to see your wisdom, renowned far and near. When your men met me rudely I seized one of them by the girdle and hurled him to the ground. For that forgive me, though the man is safe and sound."

"Your words are wisely chosen," said King Ring. "The aged should be honoured; come, sit here by me. You are no beggar, I know. Throw off your disguise and appear in your true form. Disguise is a foe to pleasure, and pleasure should rule at Yule-tide."

Then the guest dropped the bear-skin. Instead of an old man bent with care, there stood a handsome youth with long golden locks. His mantle was of azure velvet and his girdle was of silver finely worked. Around his arm clung a heavy golden circlet and at his side gleamed the great battle-sword.

When the queen looked at the guest she knew him as Frithiof, but mentioned not his name. It was the right of a guest to claim hospitality without giving his name, and Frithiof had claimed this guest-right. The horn sounded a shrill blast in the hall and all was still. The hour for vows was coming and the boar was now brought in. His four knees were bent beneath him on the great silver dish; in his mouth was an apple, and there were wreaths about his neck.

King Ring, his grey locks flowing, arose and straightway now The boar's head gently touching, he thus declared his vow: "I swear to conquer Frithiof, the champion in war, So help me, Frey and Odin, and likewise mighty Thor."

Then with a smile defiant uprose the stranger tall A look of wrath heroic spread o'er his features all-- He smote with sword the table till through the hall it rang And up from oaken benches the steel-clad warriors sprang.

"And now, Sir King, please listen while I my vow shall tell-- Young Frithiof is my kinsman, and so I know him well; 'Gainst all the world I'll shield him, I give you here in word, So help me now my norn, and likewise my good sword!"

The king laughed at this bold defiance. "Right daring, methinks your speech," he said, "but in the Northland palace all fair words are free." Then turning to the queen he bade her fill a horn of wine, the very best. "I hope that he'll remain our guest through the winter," he concluded.

The queen then took the great goblet and filled it with wine. With trembling hand she gave it to the guest. He accepted the horn with a bow of reverence and drank the wine at a draught in honour of the fair queen who gave it.

Then the skald, the singer of the royal court, touched the strings of his harp and sang a song of love and glory. As he sang he moved the warriors' hearts to pity or roused them to anger and revenge at his will. Such is the wonderful power of music and poetry. He sang of the home in Valhal, where brave heroes go after death, and all hearts were filled with a desire to be brave and noble that they might deserve a place in heaven when their work on earth was finished.