CHAPTER III.

And thus had Halfred now, for many years, roamed about as a Viking and as a Skald, and had won fame and red gold; and once more he again celebrated the Yule feast at home in his hall.

And there were very many hundred men assembled there in the Mead hall which he had fitted up. All his sailing comrades, and very many Icelanders, and many foreign guests, from Austrvegr, and even from Hylmreck, and Dyflin, on the western sea. Among them also the Skald, Vandrad, from Tiunderland.

And the Bragi cup[3] passed round, and many men vowed vows thereon, and many a one pledged himself to daring deeds, which he would perform before Midsummertide, or die. Halfred also, as well as the guests, had drunk a great deal of mead; more than he was wont to drink, as he himself, afterwards, earnestly told me.

And this also the heathen point to in him as a miraculous gift of his father Oski; that he could drink far far more than other men, in fact--and they hold him therein very lucky--as many horns full as he chose, without the heron of forgetfulness[4] sweeping through his dizzied brain.

But this is foolishly said, for even I can scare away the heron, if I, after each draught, think quietly to myself, and do not propose many toasts; for such attract the heron.

Halfred had now certainly emptied many horns; but as yet he had vowed no vow. Silent and grave he sat in the seat of the honour, as befitted the host; exhorted the tardy drinkers--there were not however many of them--by sending the cup bearer to them, with the drinking horn; and smiled quietly, when many a one vowed vows which he would never fulfil.

Then arose from his seat Vandrad the Skald, from Tiunderland, and stood upon the second step of the dais, and spoke. Halfred had vanquished him five times, and yet the Skald was a faithful loving friend to him--

"Vows have here been now vowed by many Guests of small worth. But Halfred, the Lord of the mead hall, Still holds his thoughts hidden. I laud him, most lofty, No vows hath he need of, His name may content him. Yet I miss in the mead hall One thing to the mighty, To the man is awanting A maiden to wife. What rapture if only, From the high seat of honour, The horn to us, downward, The dazzling white hand Of the nobly born Princess, Harthild, should hold."

All the guests kept silence when Vandrad had spoken. Halfred looked proudly down upon him, and very gently, he told me later, he felt the veins in his temples swell, as, smiling, he asked the Skald--but it was the smile of a king, not a child's smile--

"And what then of Harthild, Her beauty and fame, Canst thou here sound the praise, In Halfred's mead hall?"

Then said Vandrad--

"For all that thou knowest, Thou far roaming Viking, Hast thou never heard Harthild's Descent and renown Proclaimed on the harp? From Upsala's ancient Deep rooted stem The maiden is sprung. Hartstein the Haggard, Men call her father, The powerful monarch Of far spreading fame. His daughter close guarded He haughtily holds; All wooers rejecting, Who cannot excel him In throwing the hammer. And no less the maiden All men avoideth, Man-like her own mood. With good cause she boasteth Herself in deep riddles Above all the Skalds Skilful to be. 'Breaker of men's wits' In dread and in envy, They call her in Nordland. To every wooer Who fain her proud spirit In wedlock would bind, Tells she the same Close sealed riddle; For none--not the wisest-- Has ever yet solved it. Then scornfully laughing, With her sharp scissors, --For so runs the statute-- To shame him, she sheareth From the hero his hair."

Then Halfred's temple veins swelled fearfully. He shook back the thick black locks which flowed down even to his shoulders, and drained off a deep drinking horn. Then he sprang from his seat, and seized the Bragi cup, on which vows were wont to be vowed. Once more he paused, set down the Bragi cup again, and asked--

"But Skald, say now, quickly, --Oft hast thou seen her-- This men avoider. Beautiful is she? This breaker of men's wits, Would the bride's wreath become her?"

Vandrad replied--

"Nor soft nor gentle, Is she, nor lovely, But proud and stately Stands her tall form. Nor could another Carry so fitly The crown of a king."

Then Halfred again took up the Bragi cup, strode forward to the highest step which led to his seat of honour, and paused where exactly in the centre was burned into the oaken floor a circle, in red runes, so small that a man could only tread therein with one foot. Halfred kneeled down, planted his left foot within the circle, and lifted the Bragi cup in his right hand, high above his head.

And all were very eager to hear what he would now say; for this was the strongest, the most solemn form in which vow could be vowed. And Halfred said--

"Ere yet the on coming Midsummer tide Shall sink in the sea, Will I bring Harthild, The daughter of Hartstein, Here as my wife, To dwell in my hall, Or hold me shall Hell.

"Her wit-breaking sayings Will I lay bare, Her runic riddles Will I unfold. Unshamed, and unshaven, These black locks shake freely. Her man-despising Maiden mood quelling, My wedded wife Will force her to be. The breaker of men's wits Will I break in. A right noble heir Of all that I own She shall here, in my hall, Soon cherish, my son. And softly shall sing him To sleep with the songs Of his father's great deeds, Or hold me shall Hell."

Thus ended the Yule feast, at that time; for all the guests started up from their seats with a great uproar, in a confused throng, and drank to Halfred, and shouted that this was the best and most admirable vow which in the memory of man had been vowed in the north.

And the tumult was so great that Halfred had to command silence from the dais, and very soon to send round the parting cup to the uproarious heroes.

And Halfred told me that when, under the light of the stars, he crossed the court to his dwelling-house, he repented of his vow. Not because he feared King Hartstein's hammer-throwing, or dreaded his daughter's riddle. But because it is always wiser for a man to see a maiden, before he determines to make her his wife.