Chapter 3

So with mirth and song, with stories of the great heroes of their race, King Ring and his court kept the merry Yule-tide in his castle.

The Ride on the Ice

King Ring had set forth a banquet for his queen in a palace far over the lake. The ice on the lake was glistening in the sun, and the king ordered his sleigh and his swiftest horse.

"Do not go on the ice," urged the stranger; "it may break, and the water below is deep and cold." Then the old king laughed. "A king," said he, "is not easily drowned. If any one is afraid let him go round!"

The scornful laugh of the king angered the bold stranger, and he frowned. Soon, however, he bound his good skates to his feet. The servants meantime had brought out the sleigh-horse, strong and free, and his nostrils flamed as he breathed the bright, cold air.

"On," cried the king; "on, my brave steed and show if you are of famed Sleipner's brood!"

As swift was his speed as a storm at sea. The queen grew fearful as the mighty steed flew on, but the king had no fear and paid no heed to the queen's cries.

The stranger skated, now fast, now slow, passing Ingeborg and the king whenever he wished. He made letters and figures on the sparkling ice, writing often the name of the queen. Onward swiftly they glided across the lake, but the treacherous ice-maidens were hiding below. Suddenly they made a hole in the silvery ice and caught the sleigh of the king with its precious load. The queen turned pale and called for help. Like a whirlwind came the skater, strong and brave.

He buried his skate in the ice and clasped the flowing mane of the steed with a grasp of iron. With one strong swing of his arm he brought horse and sleigh to the firm ice.

"Well done!" said King Ring; "that was a noble stroke. Not Frithiof, the strong, could have done better!"

Then they all returned to the palace, rejoicing in the safety of the good king and queen.

In the Forest

Through the long winter the stranger remained at the court of the king. The time passed merrily in skating, sleighing, and in other manly sports. In the evening all gathered in the great hall and listened to the songs of the skalds or related the deeds of heroes.

The coming of spring rejoiced all hearts. The songs of the birds, the new leaves on the trees, the warmer rays of the sun, all gave joy to those who had passed through the long cold winter. The ice-bound rivulets melted and ran merrily to the ocean; the buds began to unfold, and the earth seemed born anew, filled with love and hope and courage.

The king had planned a great hunt for the court. Men and women, courtiers and servants, awaited the signal to start. The steeds impatiently pawed the ground; the clanging of bows and the rattling of quivers were heard on every side. The hooded falcons, eager to escape, uttered wild shrieks that echoed on the hills. At last the queen appeared, like a star in the spring's clear sky, and the hunting troop was ready.

Hark! through hills and valleys sounds the horn! The falcon, loosened, flies straight up into the heaven's blue, and the wild animals of the forest fly in terror to their cavern homes. Off rush the hunters on their eager steeds. The aged king rides no more on the wild hunt, though in years gone by he was one of the best to follow wild game. Frithiof is with the king, for he, too, does not wish to join the hunters. Sad thoughts trouble him, and he wishes he had never left his beloved boat. On the sea he had no time for brooding over his sad fate, but here, with the king and Ingeborg, he is always remembering happier days.

As the two entered the forest they came upon a lonely place, dark and restful. Here the king halted and said: "See how lovely, fresh, and deep is this forest. Here will I rest me, for I desire to sleep." But Frithiof urged him not to sleep in the dark, damp forest. "Hard and chilly is the ground, O King! Let me take you back to the palace."

"Like the other gods, Sleep cometh unexpected," said the king; "and here will I sleep."

When Frithiof saw that the king was determined, he took off his mantle and spread it beneath a tree. The king in trusting friendship leaned his head against the stranger's knee. Soon he slept as the hero sleeps after the battle, or as the infant sleeps cradled in its mother's arms.

As he slumbered, hark! from the branch of a tree a coal-black bird sings: "Frithiof, now thou mayest slay thine enemy, the old king. Human eyes do not behold thee!" But a snow-white bird sings: "Though no human eye behold thee, Odin sees and hears each word. Wouldst thou be a coward and slay an old man now defenceless and sleeping! The hero-crown is not won by such a deed."

So sang the birds. Frithiof, snatching up his battle-blade, flung it far from him into the gloomy glade. The black bird flew away into the dark underworld. The snow-white bird, singing sweetly as a harp tone, mounted towards the sun.

Suddenly the old man awoke: "Sleep is sweet beneath a tree, guarded by a brave man's weapon. But where is your sword? What has parted you who have never before been parted?"

"It is not hard to find a sword," replied Frithiof. "Sharp is its tongue, O King, and it never speaks for peace. I think it is haunted by an evil spirit."

"I have not slept, O youth, but have been proving you. Man or sword a wise man testeth ere in them he can confide. You are Frithiof. I have known it since first you entered my hall," said the old king. "Why did you enter my home in disguise? Honour, Frithiof, sits not nameless, the rude guest of hospitality. We had heard of a Frithiof whom both men and gods revere. Soon, I thought, will he come against my home with his famous sword, bold and brave. But you came clad in tatters, a beggar's staff in your hand.

"But cast not down your eyelids. I have proved you and forgiven. I have pitied and forgotten. All life is a struggle, hardest in youth. You are young and I am old. Soon shall I rest in the grave. Therefore, O youth, take my kingdom and my queen. Be my son and let us forget our quarrel."

"I came not as a thief," said Frithiof sadly, "but only to see Ingeborg for the last time. Too long have I stayed as your guest. The gods will not forgive me. Balder the Good loves all mankind but me. Northland has cast me out, and no more shall I seek for peace on the earth so green and sweet. To ocean's billows will I go, out upon my good ship far as the stars can guide me and far as the stormy billows can bear me.

"Let me hear the rolling thunder, let me hear the lightning's voice; When it thunders all around me, Frithiof's heart will then rejoice Clang of shields and rain of arrows! let the sea the battle fill; Purified, I'll then fall gladly, reconciled to heaven's will."

King Ring's Death

On a lovely day in spring when the rays of the sun seemed more golden than usual, Frithiof entered the hall of King Ring to take leave of his host. The king and Ingeborg his queen sat upon their chairs of state, both pale and sad. Frithiof listened to a song of parting recited by the king's harper. Then he said: "O king! the billows now bathe my ship, the flying steed, the sea-horse that is longing to leave the shore. Gladly will they follow him who is fleeing from his well-beloved land."

To the queen Frithiof said: "Again I give you this arm-ring, O Ingeborg! Receive it in memory of our youth, and never let it leave you. I go, and never will you see me again. No more shall I behold the smoke rising upward from Northland. For the ocean is my fatherland and shall be my grave."

"Well know I that death is nigh," now said King Ring. "All men must die, and I shall not moan like a coward. No one can by complaining change what the fates have decreed. But if you will stay, my sorrow you will lighten. Take my queen, reign over the land and guard the crown. Long have I reigned in the Northland, loved and respected. Though I longed for peace, yet have I broken shields in war both by sea and land without turning pale. Vainly have I sought for peace amid slaughter. Now the mild daughter of heaven beckons me hence to Valhal.

"Bring for my drinking The horn with wine flowing; Skoal to thy honour, thou land of my birth! Minds deeply thinking, Harvest fields growing-- Peaceful exploits have I loved on the earth."

Speaking thus bravely, the king pressed the hand of his queen and of his son. Frithiof's also he clasped with love. Then, closing his eyelids gently, the royal spirit of King Ring sank with a sigh to All-father's breast.

The New King

King Ring sits in his barrow, buckler on arm and battle-sword by his side. His war-horse stands at the cairn pawing the earth and chafing as though impatient to start on the long journey.

Thus sang the harper of the departed hero: "Great King Ring has gone on his last journey. He rides over Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that leads to Valhal. The bridge bends with his weight. Wide open the doors of Valhal to welcome him, and hands reach out to lead him within the doors.

"'Odin himself, king of the gods, calls for the beaker to be brought. Frey wreathes the king's head with garlands of grain ears, and Frigg places therein the bluest of her blossoms. Broge, the singer of the gods, tunes his golden harp and sings a song of welcome. Silent is Valhal as he sings:--

"'Dear to us is this hero king, for he held his shield as a shelter for peace. Always did Forseti, goddess of justice and peace, have an honoured place in his kingdom. Generous, too, was the king, always strewing beauty and blessing far and near. To heroes he gave gifts without measure; sadness he comforted and suffering he relieved.

"'Welcome, thou wise winner of Valhal! Long will you be loved and honoured in the Northland. You are loved by the gods, a friend from the earth.'"

So sang the harper in the palace of the king whom he loved.

When the news spread over the country that King Ring was dead, the peasants and warriors from hill and dale, from meadow and farm, cried: "We must choose a king to fill his place."

The peasant took from the wall his steel sword and tried its edge with his practised finger to prove its sharpness. His boys admired their father's blade and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy for one, and two struggled to lift it from the floor.

The peasant's daughter scoured the helmet to make it clean and bright, and laughed to see her face shining from the silvery sheen of its polished surface.

When the peasant had bound his good sword to his side and put on his shining helmet, he took his round shield and started with his friends to the gathering-place.

Hail! iron man, so strong and sound, Thou peasant good! Renown and powers which nations wield From thee they draw. In war thou art thy country's shield, In peace its law.

With sounding of arms and shields the peasants met under heaven's blue sky in the fair, pleasant fields. Upon the great stone in the centre of the assembly stood the noble Frithiof. With him was the little prince, son of King Ring, a slender, noble lad with long golden hair. When the men saw the two, there rose the cry on every hand, "Too small is the king's son to rule our land and to lead our wars. Frithiof shall be our king!"

But Frithiof raised up the little boy on his shield and cried: "Ye Northmen, behold your hope, your king, your joy! From Odin is he descended, and he is brave at heart, as much at home 'mid shield and spear as fish are in the sea.

"I swear my lance and sword to set Round land and throne, And with the father's coronet To crown the son."

While Frithiof was urging the Northmen to choose the son of Ring for their King, the boy sat on the high shield as if it were a throne. No fear had he, but he faced them all as the eaglet faces the sun. At last he grew impatient and leaped to the ground; fearless and proud he stood, like the royal prince he was.

Then all rejoiced at his courage: "We of the north, we choose thee, thou shield-borne youth, to be our king. Be like thy father, brave and good. For Frithiof, thy loyal friend, he shall be thy guardian and guide thy youth. You, Frithiof, shall marry the queen. We give her to you for your bride."

But Frithiof frowned and said: "To-day you are here to make choice of your king,--not of my bride. To the temple of Balder I must go to repair the wrong I have done, if perchance I can do this.

"Against me Balder's anger sore Doth still abide; He took, he only can restore My cherished bride."

Then Frithiof kissed the youthful monarch on the brow in farewell, and, turning from the assembly, he silently and slowly passed from view.

Frithiof at his Father's Grave

From the home of King Ring Frithiof fared to seek his father's grave in his own loved land. As he neared the shore, he looked upon it with joy. How brightly the sun shone, smiling like a friend as its soft rays touched the branches of the forest! The dewdrops reflected the light as perfectly as the great ocean. The mountains were aglow with crimson light as the sun slowly sank in the west.

On every side Frithiof saw the well-known places he loved as a child. The same sweet beauty graced the valleys, the same birds were filling the woods with song. He visited the stream in which he strove as a swimmer bold, and he found the birch trees with their white bark, on which he had carved his name so long ago.

All seemed unchanged. But when he looked for Framness, that royal home of his father, he found it not. And Balder's shrine was gone; both destroyed by fire and sword. No more the pious pilgrim came to Balder's grove, for wild beasts roamed where once the sacred temple stood. Although Frithiof had suffered so long, his grief was even stronger than before, when he saw the ruined temple. He repaired next day to the grave of his father, the brave Thorsten, where he prayed to the gods:--

"Is there no way by which I may obtain pardon for my offence? Will the blue-eyed god, kind Balder, refuse forgiveness when man pardons man who asks for pardon? Command any sacrifice and I will perform it. No evil will had I in the burning of thy shrine. Tis the only stain upon my shield. I pray thee, remove it and make my shield spotless. Cannot an upright life repair a moment's fault?

"Here is my father's grave. He has gone where there are no tears, and he rejoices in the company of noble heroes. O father, hear my prayer! Not for renown in war I pray, but for forgiveness. Take my plea to heaven. No rest have noble minds if unforgiven. Will you not send me some message, some token, some sign that you hear and answer my prayer? The waves are resounding on the shore; can you not speak through them? The storm flies by, bounding on swift pinions; will you not whisper to me in the storm?--No answer?"

As Frithiof prayed, the storm passed by. The sun sank in golden splendour. Over hill and dale the glowing clouds floated in many lovely circles. Then came a wondrous vision to his longing eyes. In the clouds appeared a temple of gold surrounded by groves of emerald trees. The gold and marble gleamed with divine lustre never seen by man. Slowly it sank to earth but did not disappear. It stood in beauty where before the temple of Balder had stood. Its broad walls were of silver, and each pillar seemed cut of deep blue steel. The altar was carved of a single precious stone. The ceiling seemed like the blue sky with twinkling golden stars, and there sat the gods of Valhal in all their splendour.

Frithiof gazed in wonder and in praise. "Now I know your answer, my father. I will build a new shrine to Balder the Good, more glorious than the one destroyed by fire. How glad I am to atone for my warlike act by peaceful deeds! The gods will pardon those who sue meekly for forgiveness. Now with joy can I look at the stars and welcome the Northern Lights. To-night I shall sleep upon my shield and dream how heaven forgets the faults its mercy hath forgiven."

The Reconciliation

After seeing this vision of the lovely temple, Frithiof, greatly cheered, worked long to build one as beautiful as his vision. At last it was finished, a noble work. It stood high up on the mountain cliff, and its image was mirrored in the ocean beneath. About this glorious temple stretched a grove of noble trees, their branches green against the sky. Here could be heard the songs of birds, but no sound of discord. All was harmony.

As Frithiof stood admiring the temple, he saw twelve virgins clad in silver gauze, with roses in their hair, enter the temple and approach the altar of Balder. About the altar they danced lightly as breezes about a fountain, or elves amid the waving grass while dewdrops glisten there. As Frithiof looked, all hate and vengeance faded from his heart as ice melts from the cliff before the sun of springtime. All was quiet,--peace and joy seemed to possess his soul. He felt love for all nature and longed to be at peace with all God's creatures.

Then came into the temple the most high priest of Balder. Kind was his face, and Frithiof reverenced the noble man of peace. "Son Frithiof, welcome to this grove and temple. I have long expected thee. Weary with travel and longing for home, the strong man at last returns from his wanderings.

"Dost thou remember when thy heart was joyous as the birds are when summer night winds gently rock the fragrant blossoms? Then Balder was growing in thy pure soul. But always with the good Balder there grows up in every human soul his brother Hoder, the evil one, the child of night.

"No one can suffer for thy sins,--no one can atone for the living but themselves. One offering canst thou give, more dear to the gods than the smoke of victims. This is the sacrifice of thine own vengeance, the hate in thy untamed heart.

"Canst thou not forgive, O youth? Be reconciled with thyself and thy foes, and then will Balder be reconciled with thee.

"Thou hatest Bele's sons because pride of birth was theirs and they would not give thee Ingeborg, their sister. Strange it is but true, that no one is proud of his own merit, but only of his fortune. Art thou not proud of thy heroic deeds, of thy great strength? But who gave thee this strength? Is it thy merit or Odin's gift? Censure not another's pride, lest thine own be condemned. King Helge now is fallen."

"Fallen!" exclaimed Frithiof; "King Helge is fallen?"

"Yes, my Frithiof. Thou must know that while thou wert building this temple, Helge was far away, marching among the Finnish mountains. On a lonely crag of the mountains was an ancient shrine. He wished to enter, but the gate was closed and the key fast in the lock. Helge was angry, and, grasping the doorposts, he shook them with all his might. All at once with horrid crash the rotten pillars gave way, and a great image standing on the doorposts fell upon him, and crushed him to earth. Thus he died.

"Now Halfdan sits alone upon the throne of his father. To him offer thy hand. The god Balder demands this offering. If thou refuse, in vain has this temple been built, and vain are thy prayers for forgiveness."

As the noble priest thus advised, King Halfdan entered the temple, but stood apart in silence. Frithiof at once loosed his breast-plate and placed the bright shield against the altar. To Halfdan he offered his hand, saying, "In such a strife the noblest first offers his hand for peace." King Halfdan met his friend half-way, and their hands, long separated, met in a strong clasp.

Then the priest in solemn voice proclaimed Frithiof forgiven for his crime against Balder, the loving god, and purified from his guilt.

Scarce had the words been spoken when Ingeborg entered, attired in bridal robes and mantle of ermine. She walked among her maids as the moon glides in the heavenly azure attended by the radiant stars. With tears in her lovely eyes she turned to her brother; but Halfdan clasped her hand in Frithiof's, and thus gave his sister, the fair Ingeborg, to the friend of their childhood, her best beloved, the noble Frithiof.

THE STORY OF BEOWULF

The Coming of Sheaf

Once upon a time, many, many years ago, a boat came sailing over the sea to Denmark. In it were shields and rings of gold, banners of bright colours, bracelets, drinking-cups, and helmets. With sails gaily spread the breezes bore the boat gently over the deep blue sea. No sailor was seen at the oars.

"What can it be?" cried the people as they came to the shore, wondering; "is it a ship of earth, or have the gods sent it?" They asked one another many questions, but knew not what to think.

Nearer and nearer came the beautiful boat; bright shone the coloured sails and golden armour. Many were the treasures borne therein, but loveliest and most precious was--a little baby boy! He smiled at the man who found him, and lifted up his tiny hands as if asking to be taken.

"A prince!" cried the people; "we have found our prince! The gods have sent us a king to rule over us and to conquer our enemies." For at that time the Danes had no king, and were glad to see the beautiful child who so strangely came to their shores.

The ship with all its treasures was carefully guarded, and the boy, who was called Sheaf, was brought up as a prince. In due time he became king and fought many battles and won many victories over the robbers on land and sea. Over many noble thanes did Sheaf, the king, rule; all obeyed him and paid tribute to him.

Nor did God withhold from him a son to comfort the people. The boy was strong and handsome and gave great joy to the heart of his father. Over many lands shone the glory of the young prince. So shall a young hero act that when he is old all his friends shall praise him. He shall fight for his people and by praiseworthy deeds shall he flourish.

Now when the time came for Sheaf to die, he asked his companions to bear him to the shore. There stood the brave ship with gleaming prow and widespread sails, eager to go. Sad and yet glad at heart were the heroes who bore the king to the death-boat--glad to honour a brave king, and sad that he must leave them.

On the king's bosom they placed treasures of gold and silver; rings, shining stones, cloth of gold, shields, and drinking-cups. Indeed, he took away treasures as many as he brought with him when, years before, he had come, a tiny child, to the country of the Danes. Out into the mist sailed the proud ship with its precious load never to return. No man saw it again, and whither it went none can tell.

The Young Beowulf

The sons and grandsons of the great Sheaf ruled the country of the Danes until the time of Hrothgar. Hrothgar was king of the Danes when Beowulf, the hero of our story, was a prince in the country of the Goths.

The young Beowulf grew up in the court of his uncle, Hygelac, king of the Goths. Fond of all games and manly sports was he, and he learned to throw the heavy hammer, to shoot, to row, to swim, and to ride. Running, wrestling, and hunting were daily exercises of the young men, and Beowulf could excel them all in every trial of skill. Soon the men at court called Beowulf their leader, and they loved and honoured him.

Although Beowulf had won many victories at home, and his people knew him to be brave and strong, yet he longed to do some great deed which should make his name known over other lands. The time came when he had his wish and when all his strength and courage were tested. For a harper from the land of the Danes came to the court of Hygelac and told a sad story.

The Harper's Story