A shout of "Say nay, Frithiof! say nay!" broke from the ring of warriors, but he proudly answered: "I would not lie to gain Valhalla. I have spoken to thy sister, Helge, yet have I not broken Balder's peace."

A murmur of horror pa.s.sed through the ranks at this avowal, and when the harsh voice of Helge was raised in judgment, none was there to gainsay the justice of the sentence.

This apparently was not a harsh one, but Helge well knew that it meant death, and he so intended it.

Far westward lay the Orkney Islands, ruled by Jarl Angantyr, whose yearly tribute to Bele was withheld now that the old king lay in his cairn. Hard-fisted he was said to be, and heavy of hand, and to Frithiof was given the task of demanding the tribute face to face.

Before he sailed upon the judgment-quest, however, he once more sought Ingeborg, and implored her to elope with him to a home in the sunny South, where her happiness should be his law, and where she should rule over his subjects as his honoured wife. But Ingeborg sorrowfully refused to accompany him, saying that, since her father was no more, she was in duty bound to obey her brothers implicitly, and could not marry without their consent.

The fiery spirit of Frithiof was at first impatient under this disappointment of his hopes, but in the end his n.o.ble nature conquered, and after a heartrending parting scene, he embarked upon Ellida, and sorrowfully sailed out of the harbour, while Ingeborg, through a mist of tears, watched the sail as it faded and disappeared in the distance.

The vessel was barely out of sight when Helge sent for two witches named Heid and Ham, bidding them by incantations to stir up a tempest at sea in which it would be impossible for even the G.o.d-given vessel Ellida to live, that so all on board should perish. The witches immediately complied; and with Helge's aid they soon stirred up a storm the fury of which is unparalleled in history.

"Helge on the strand Chants his wizard-spell, Potent to command Fiends of earth or h.e.l.l.

Gathering darkness shrouds the sky; Hark, the thunder's distant roll!

Lurid lightnings, as they fly, Streak with blood the sable pole.

Ocean, boiling to its base, Scatters wide its wave of foam; Screaming, as in fleetest chase, Sea-birds seek their island home."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (Longfellow's tr.).

"Then the storm unfetter'd wingeth Wild his course; in Ocean's foam Now he dips him, now up-swingeth, Whirling toward the G.o.d's own home: Rides each Horror-spirit, warning, High upon the topmost wave-- Up from out the white, vast, yawning, Bottomless, unfathom'd grave."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

The Tempest

Unfrighted by tossing waves and whistling blasts, Frithiof sang a cheery song to rea.s.sure his terrified crew; but when the peril grew so great that his exhausted followers gave themselves up for lost, he bethought him of tribute to the G.o.ddess Ran, who ever requires gold of them who would rest in peace under the ocean wave. Taking his armlet, he hewed it with his sword and made fair division among his men.

"Who goes empty-handed Down to sea-blue Ran?

Cold her kisses strike, and Fleeting her embrace is."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

He then bade Bjorn hold the rudder, and himself climbed to the mast-top to view the horizon. While perched there he descried a whale, upon which the two witches were riding the storm. Speaking to his good ship, which was gifted with power of understanding and could obey his commands, he now ran down both whale and witches, and the sea was reddened with their blood. At the same instant the wind fell, the waves ceased to threaten, and fair weather soon smiled again upon the seas.

Exhausted by their previous superhuman efforts and by the labour of baling their water-logged vessel, the men were too weak to land when they at last reached the Orkney Islands, and had to be carried ash.o.r.e by Bjorn and Frithiof, who gently laid them down on the sand, bidding them rest and refresh themselves after all the hardships they had endured.

"Yet more wearied than their Dragon Totter Frithiof's gallant men; Though each leans upon his weapon, Scarcely upright stand they then.

Bjorn, on pow'rful shoulder, dareth Four to carry to the land; Frithiof, all alone, eight beareth,-- Sets them so round the upblaz'd brand.

'Nay! ye white-fac'd, shame not!

Waves are mighty Vikings; Hard's the unequal struggle-- Ocean's maids our foes.

See! there comes the mead-horn, Wand'ring on bright gold-foot; Shipmates! cold limbs warm,--and Here's to Ingeborg!'"

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephen's tr.).

The arrival of Frithiof and his men, and their mode of landing, had been noted by the watchman of Angantyr, who immediately informed his master of all he had seen. The jarl exclaimed that the ship which had weathered such a gale could be none but Ellida, and that its captain was doubtless Frithiof, Thorsten's gallant son. At these words one of his Berserkers, Atle, caught up his weapons and strode from the hall, vowing that he would challenge Frithiof, and thus satisfy himself concerning the veracity of the tales he had heard of the young hero's courage.

Atle's Challenge

Although still greatly exhausted, Frithiof immediately accepted Atle's challenge, and, after a sharp encounter with swords, in which Angurvadel was triumphant, the two champions grappled in deadly embrace. Widely is that wrestling-match renowned in the North, and well matched were the heroes, but in the end Frithiof threw his antagonist, whom he would have slain then and there had his sword been within reach. Atle saw his intention, and bade him go in search of the weapon, promising to remain motionless during his absence. Frithiof, knowing that such a warrior's promise was inviolable, immediately obeyed; but when he returned with his sword, and found his antagonist calmly awaiting death, he relented, and bade Atle rise and live.

"Then storm they, nothing yielded, Two autumn-billows like!

And oft, with steel round shielded, Their jarring b.r.e.a.s.t.s fierce strike.

"All like two bears they wrestle, On hills of snow; and draw And strain, each like an eagle On the angry sea at war.

The root-fast rock resisted Full hardly them between And green iron oaks down-twisted With lesser pulls have been.

"From each broad brow sweat rushes; Their bosoms coldly heave; And stones and mounds and bushes Dints hundred-fold receive."

Tegner, Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).

Together the appeased warriors now wended their way to Angantyr's hall, which Frithiof found to be far different from the rude dwellings of his native land. The walls were covered with leather richly decorated with gilt designs. The chimney-piece was of marble, and gla.s.s panes were in the window-frames. A soft light was diffused from many candles burning in silver branches, and the tables groaned under the most luxurious fare.

High in a silver chair sat the jarl, clad in a coat of golden mail, over which was flung a rich mantle bordered with ermine, but when Frithiof entered he strode from his seat with cordial hand outstretched. "Full many a horn have I emptied with my old friend Thorsten," said he, "and his brave son is equally welcome at my board."

Nothing loth, Frithiof seated himself beside his host, and after he had eaten and drunk he recounted his adventures upon land and sea.

At last, however, Frithiof made known his errand, whereupon Angantyr said that he owed no tribute to Helge, and would pay him none; but that he would give the required sum as a free gift to his old friend's son, leaving him at liberty to dispose of it as he pleased. Meantime, since the season was unpropitious for the return journey, and storms continually swept the sea, the king invited Frithiof to tarry with him over the winter; and it was only when the gentle spring breezes were blowing once more that he at last allowed him to depart.

Frithiof's Home-coming

Taking leave of his kind host, Frithiof set sail, and wafted by favourable winds, the hero, after six days, came in sight of Framnas, and found that his home had been reduced to a shapeless heap of ashes by Helge's orders. Sadly Frithiof strode over the ravaged site of his childhood's home, and as he viewed the desolate scene his heart burned within him. The ruins were not entirely deserted, however, and suddenly Frithiof felt the cold nozzle of his hound thrust into his hand. A few moments later his favourite steed bounded to his master's side, and the faithful creatures were well-nigh frantic with delight. Then came Hilding to greet him with the information that Ingeborg was now the wife of Sigurd Ring. When Frithiof heard this he flew into a Berserker rage, and bade his men scuttle the vessels in the harbour, while he strode to the temple in search of Helge.

The king stood crowned amid a circle of priests, some of whom brandished flaming pine-knots, while all grasped a sacrificial flint knife. Suddenly there was a clatter of arms and in burst Frithiof, his brow dark as autumn storms. Helge's face went pale as he confronted the angry hero, for he knew what his coming presaged. "Take thy tribute, King," said Frithiof, and with the words, he took the purse from his girdle and flung it in Helge's face with such force that blood gushed from his mouth and he fell swooning at Balder's feet.

The silver-bearded priests advanced to the scene of violence, but Frithiof motioned them back, and his looks were so threatening that they durst not disobey.

Then his eye fell upon the arm-ring which he had given to Ingeborg and which Helge had placed upon the arm of Balder, and striding up to the wooden image he said: "Pardon, great Balder, not for thee was the ring wrested from Volund's tomb!" Then he seized the ring, but strongly as he tugged it would not come apart. At last he put forth all his strength, and with a sudden jerk he recovered the ring, and at the same time the image of the G.o.d fell p.r.o.ne across the altar fire. The next moment it was enveloped in flames, and before aught could be done the whole temple was wreathed in fire and smoke.

"All, all's lost! From half-burned hall Th' fire-red c.o.c.k up-swingeth!-- Sits on the roof, and, with shrilly call Flutt'ring, his free course wingeth."

Tegner's Frithiof Saga (G. Stephens's tr.).