The custom of the winter, when no man could work, was to make merry with what you had gained in the summer. Men killed pigs and sheep, and drank their mead out of horns. This was the time for skalds and story-tellers.
But the village where Gunnar was now settled was a holy village, because of Frey's house. It was proper that no feast should be held unless Frey were present at it. He was carried from homestead to homestead; and where he was there was Sigrid his wife, and there now was Gunnar also. Those three always sat on the dais with the giver of the feast, and when the tables were ready they had the chief seats. Sigrid waswaited upon as if she had been a man, and great respect was shown her, which she sullenly received. Once she had told Gunnar that she disliked being noticed. She had said that she had been happiest in her days when she was keeping pigs in the forest; and he had said that he understood that very well. Now he put that down as the reason why she had a hang-dog look at these merry-makings, ate little, drank less, said little and laughed not at all. When the drinking began she always left the hall and sat with the women in the bower. Frey was left—and then it was that Gunnar in his cups used to take liberties with Frey—to clap a clout over one of his eyes, or stick an apple on a spike of his crown. He was wary how he played these tricks, for in some company it would have been taken very ill; but in some, and when men were far disguised in drink, his japes went well enough, and gave him satisfaction.
He was by now entirely out of conceitwith Frey. That a god should be throned in the world he sincerely believed—and could swear to a hundred or more; but that one should be caged in a painted block he did not believe. As for his marriage, that made the hairs on his back bristle, and his neck to swell. A good deal of talk went on when Sigrid was gone with the women. He listened to it and raged, but outwardly he was still, and found nothing to say. The people expected—or some of them—that Sigrid would bring Frey a child. Some said that she had miscarried; none thought it unlikely. Things were said and tales were told of Frey which amazed him while they made him angry. "At this rate," he said to himself, "I shall be an atheist or a Christian. Would that King Olaf could hear me say so. He would countermand his rope and make me one of his household."
Then he found out that it interested him more to hear tales of Sigrid than it disgustedhim; and he said to himself then, "Frey and I shall be fighting for Sigrid one of these days. I learn that I am in love with her." But he knew that it would be a shame to tell her so, and resolved that she should learn nothing about it.
There was never a merrier winter in that village, and never a man more beloved than Gunnar was. He was no skald, but his tales were without end, and so were his jokes. He had had his share of travel, and now they had their portion in it. He told them of Micklegarth and of the great King of the Greeks. He said that there was a temple there dedicated to divine wisdom, which was a paragon and wonder of the world. The King did sacrifice there every day to his god—and there was nothing in the temple less precious than gold. He spoke of that other Garth in the North, a Russian city, which was envious of the Greek kingdom, and wishful to rival it. Thenof Frey's worship he had something to say. In Iceland he said Frey was worshipped, and there had been a priest of his there called Ravenkeld, who had not only built a house for him with five or six images of Frey set round in a circle, but had had a famous stallion which he shared with the god. No one but Ravenkeld or Frey might ride this horse, which also had a stud of twelve mares for his own use and pleasure. Ravenkeld had made a vow that he would have the life of any man who should ride the horse; and he kept it though it cost him all that he had. For once there came to him a certain man called Thoreir, wishful to serve him. Ravenkeld made a shepherd of him, and set him also to keep guard over Frey's horse and his mares, warning him of the vow he had made. Then on a day thirty sheep were lost and Thoreir must ride far to find them. Never a mare of the twelve could he come near, but Frey's horse stood; so he saddled him and rode him allday. Ravenkeld came to know about it and went out to find Thoreir, who was lying on the stone wall, counting his sheep over. "How came you to ride my horse," said Ravenkeld, "when I warned you to ride any other but him?" Thoreir told him how it was. Then Ravenkeld said, "I am sorry, but we make vows one day and find them heavy another." Then he drove his spear through his back and slew him. He paid for doing that, for he was outlawed by Thoreir's kindred at the Thing, and they came upon him unawares, and pierced his legs at the tendons of the knees and hung him up by them for a day. When they came to take him down the blood was in his eyes and he was as near dead as might be. Then they banished him with hardly any money or goods; but yet he prospered and got his own back again. But when he was restored to his ease and wealth he said that he had no opinion of Frey at all, and would have no more to do with him. He broke up theimages and turned the god's house into a byre for his cows, and had no religion thereafter that ever Gunnar heard tell of. "And that," he said, "is the way of men. They make a god first and unmake him afterwards—and all that is foolishness."
But they said, "How can that be when we know very well what Frey here does for us, sending the rain in proper time upon the earth?"
"Now tell me this," said Gunnar; "do you pray to Frey for rain when the wind is in the east?"
"We do not," they said, "for that would be waste of breath."
"So it would," said Gunnar, "and so also if the wind blow from the south. For then the rain will come of itself."
"That would be Frey's doing, we hold," said they. Then Gunnar smiled. "You are lucky," he said, "and so is Frey."
They always took Frey back after thefeasts, two or three men bearing him up between them; and many a tumble they had in the snowdrifts, if they were not very surefooted, through drink or otherwise. One night when they had some way to go Gunnar picked up Sigrid and carried her through the worst of the drifts.
"Oh, you should not, you should not," she said; but he laughed. "You are so small a thing," he said, "it would be a shame."
But she hid her face in his shoulder and said again that he should not carry her. He had a great mind to kiss her, but he did not do it just then.
"Well," said he, "let your husband carry you." And he called out, "Hi you, Frey, come and carry Sigrid through the snow."
But just then Frey and his bearers were all rolling in the snow together. "You see how it is with poor Frey," Gunnar said. "He has had too much to drink and can'tcarry himself, so what would he do if he had you too?"
After that he got into the way of carrying her, and she grew accustomed to it, looked for it, and held her arms out for him to lift her when they came out of the feast.
Gunnar enjoyed himself, but did not tell her so, or speak of it at all. He took it as a thing of course that he should serve her, and she accepted it. But there was no love-making, even though the days were dark, and there was nothing to be done out of doors. He said to himself, "She is Frey's wife, or believes herself so. I don't care a flick of the fingers for Frey, but for her I do care."
They were thrown very much together, and found nothing amiss with that. Gunnar talked to her of his travels and told her stories as they sat by the fire. He had a happy way with him which made all people like him and give him their confidence. He neither took liberties nor allowed them;but if you were simple and gave yourself no airs he was very gentle and good-humoured. Sigrid had no suspicions of him, nor need for any. He would be incapable of doing her any harm. It was because he was afraid of making her unhappy that he left off teasing her about Frey. At first he had been rather given to it, but he saw that she was troubled by it, and did not know what to say. Then he stopped his gibes and mockery.
FREY MAKES READY TO GO HIS ROUNDS
By slow degrees the winter wore away; the clouds broke up, and the thick snow-fleece was pitted all over as if it had been a blanket which moths had fretted. The days drew out longer; men looked up, feeling the sun; the thatches began to drip, and then to run, and to dig for themselves deep channels in the snow. Then began roof-slides by broad blocks at a time, and a man might be buried in slush before he knew it.
Sigrid said that they must make ready Frey's wagon for the road, and told Gunnar where it was stored and asked him to fetch it out. As soon as the buds began to swell on the trees they must be off. Gunnarwas glad of some work, and soon had the wagon out of the shedding and haled it into the forecourt.
This wagon was a gaudy affair, being painted all over in red, blue and yellow. The wheels were red and so was the pole. White oxen drew it, which had red trappings and brazen stars on their foreheads. Upright poles at the four corners of the wagon carried a wooden canopy, and held rods also for the curtains which shut Frey off from mortal eyes until such times as he would appear and, having been propitiated with offerings, suffer himself to be carried into the fields. These curtains Sigrid was now busy over. They were green and had dragons, the sun, the moon and stars, and runes also sewn upon them, of red and white colours. The inside of the tent which these curtains made was a fair chamber. In the forepart Frey stood when he was travelling; in the afterpart was his bed where he lay at night. Butthe parts were not divided off. There was no bed-chamber for him as he had in his winter house. The men who went with the wagon, and tended the oxen, must lie out in the open to sleep, or in the sacking slung beneath where the beast-fodder was carried.
Gunnar thought that he would have no men to help him, and Sigrid said, "Oh no, we want no others. With you to help all will go well."
"You trust me, I see," said Gunnar, and Sigrid looked at him with friendly eyes.
"How should I not? Are you not the trustiest of men?"
"If you were not so kind to me," he told her, "perhaps I should not be so trusty. And it may be that we should both be the better for it. But I have a soft heart, and you have found that out."
"I know nothing for your heart," she said. "That is the last thing that I know about you."
"So be it," said Gunnar. "Now tell me what you wish to be at with this wonderful affair."
It did not suit her very well just then to be talking of the wagon, so she crossed her knee and clasped it with her hands. "The heart of a man is like the snow just now, I think. It is quickly melted where the sun strikes it or the rain falls upon it. It is easy to make a dint in it. But below that there is ice. In small matters a man will be kind enough; but there may be great matters which may break themselves to pieces against him before he will be moved."
Gunnar made no answer, but busied himself examining the wagon. He broke a bubble of paint with his thumb, and said, "Look at that now. There's bad workmanship for you."
"It is exactly the contrary with women," said Sigrid. "A girl's heart is like a spring which is guarded by overhanging snowand a thin film of ice. The first thaw breaks that through, and the water wells up warm. But the film, while it remains there, is respectable; for it denotes that the spring beneath is to be guarded from defiling hands."
Gunnar was very busy. He ran his hand up and down the pole. "The man who painted this machine," he said, "was a botcher. He has never so much as planed this pole. It is as rough as an earl's tongue. Just you feel it, sweetheart."
She was offended. "If you don't care to listen to me, I don't care either to observe your wagon. It is a strange way to woo a sweetheart to have her in contempt."
"My dear one," said Gunnar—and now he looked at her—"it is true that you know nothing of a man's heart, which moves him to do things rather than to talk about them. And this wagon is not mine, butFrey's, and I am to work upon it by your desire."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Ah," she said, "do I not know whose wagon it is? Is this a time to remind me of it?" Gunnar looked quickly about him. Nobody was by. So then he went to Sigrid, and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Don't cry, pretty one," he said, "otherwise there will be the mischief between Frey and me." Then he kissed her; and that was the first time that ever he did it, strange as it may appear. She sat very still, and all drawn up into a bunch, as if she felt chilly, which she did for a minute. Then she went into Frey's house and stayed there for a good time. Gunnar shook his head, and went to fetch the tools that he needed for cleaning the paint off the wagon.
He took a long time over it, and was very happy to be so busy. He cleaned off all the old paint, which was manycoats thick, and smoothed the wood to his fancy. Then he set to work with new colours and was at it many days from dawn to dusk. It began to look very splendid, with a green ground, and yellow wheels and pole, and with flowers, trees, birds and beasts upon all that in blue, red and white. He painted also the sky and the sun and rivers winding among meadows. Then he had the sea, with ships upon it, because Sigrid did not know what the sea was like. And he wrote runes all round the panels of the wagon, sayings such as were common in his country, such as Bare is Back without Brother Behind it, and so on.
Sigrid was much the better for being kissed, though she was very careful not to say so. She thought that Gunnar would not perceive it, but he did. Her eyes were larger and softer; her colour was higher; she was quieter in her ways, not so restless, and certainly not so testy. She used to sit contentedly with her curtains while heworked at his painting, and could now admire what he did. She talked no more about the difference between a man's heart and a woman's, perhaps because she knew more. It was not hard to discern these changes in her.
"This wagon," said Gunnar, "is a paragon. It is my masterpiece." The time had come when all was done, even to the hangings of Frey's bed, and the containing boards of the same.
"Now, sweetheart," said he, "it is for you to consider whether we shall not give your lord a lick of paint. To my eye he would be the better for it, but you know his fancy better than I do."
She said shortly, "He is well enough." She could not bear his jokes about Frey just now.
"He is not then," said Gunnar. "He will look shabby in his new wagon. Just try him for yourself and see."
She was most unwilling, but yet she allowed him to put Frey up in the forepart of the wain.
"Look at him," said Gunnar. "Look at the brown blur upon his neck; and see how smeared his cheeks are. There is no shine left. To my thinking he is failing in one eye. It is like the eye of a dead fish. There should be new gilding on his cone. Strange how a new wagon shows him up."
She was not looking at Frey at all; but when Gunnar had him down in the court and was about to take his clothes off, she sprang forward with flaming cheeks and dangerous eyes. "I dare you to touch him."
Gunnar stood. "As you please," he said. "It is nothing to me. Let him go bleary to his work."
She shifted about and paced the court uneasily. "He is very well as he is. If anything is to be done to him I will do it."
"As you please," said Gunnar again, andleft the court. He went out into the forest where the birds were singing. He looked to see if any were nesting yet, and was away three or four hours.
When he came back Frey was in his house again, and he examined what Sigrid had done. She had washed him; Gunnar thought he looked sadly bleached about the chaps, and there were flaws in his beard. His neck was pinker. She had tried to repaint his right eye.
While he was looking at Frey Sigrid came in. She was flushed, and prepared to be angry in a moment.
"I suppose you think I have made matters worse," she said.
"What do you think yourself?" he asked her.
"He will do well enough," she answered. But he told her, "You have not helped his eye-works. He is looking two ways at once."
"It is what you would say."
"It is what I do say," he answered, "because it is true."
"I know what you think of him," she cried out sharply. "You have no need to tell me."
Gunnar replied: "He looked shabby before, and in want of a lick; but you have made him look like a boiled goose."
Sigrid was seriously vexed. She looked as if she was all over spines, like a teasel. But the worst of it was, that she knew he was right, as well as he did himself. Meantime Gunnar walked comfortably about, by and large, while she stood opening and shutting her hands.
"You are hard to please," she said at last, in a dry voice. "Yet I do think that I have mishandled his right eye. Perhaps you will mend it for me."
"Ah," said Gunnar, "and for him too I will mend it, though he has no liking for me. Look at him, I ask you, from where you stand, and then from where I do.Whereas his eyes used to follow us about to see what we were doing, now he sees nothing of us at all. Kindly look for yourself."
She did as he told her. She examined Frey very carefully from where she stood and then crossed the floor and stood by Gunnar, but looked at Frey.
"Well?" said Gunnar.
Her answer was not in words, but she looked up at Gunnar with a faint smile. So then he kissed her again, and that kiss was a long one and lasted some time.
"Frey cannot see," she said presently, "and it is my fault. Mend his eye for me."
"Why," said Gunnar, "do you want him to see us?"
She said, "Not always—but sometimes it doesn't matter."
Gunnar said that he would put his eye right, and, more than that, he would freshen him up altogether. He pointed out many flaws in his painting.
Sigrid was not in the mood to deny him anything just now. She agreed readily, and was going away. But she came back again.
"Promise me one thing," she said.
"I will promise you a dozen things," said Gunnar.
"One only. It is that you will only paint what you can see."
Gunnar, who was very quick, said, "I will obey you; but in that case you must cover him in a blanket, lest I spoil his clothes."
She brought him a blanket, and left him. Gunnar put Frey's eye in order, and touched up his cheeks and scarlet nostrils for him. He sized the cone for gilding, and put a tinge more red into his beard.
Then he looked at him with his head on one side and one eye shut. "You are a fine figure of a god, Frey. We are something alike, I believe. But for all that I see that you don't love me."
He was at the end of the room as he stood; but for all that Frey had him in view, and looked furious.
After that there was nothing to do but wait the moment when Frey should start on his rounds.
FREY STARTS ON HIS ROUNDS
The weather was mild and open when Frey set out in his wagon, and the roads were heavy. They plunged into the forest ways, where the tracks were swimming in melting snow, and the air was rife with dripping trees. But the birds were all awake, the buds were shining, there was spring in the air. Gunnar walked beside the oxen and touched their necks now and then with the nodding point of his switch; Frey kept his bed, and Sigrid trudged beside Gunnar, heedless of the wet and mire. Sometimes she took his hand, sometimes his arm; sometimes his arm supported her. She was very happy, talked and laughed as she had never before.
Now she could laugh at Frey, it seems. "Frey is snoozing," she said. "He doesn't see what we see."
"No," said Gunnar; "but let him alone. He will have to work by and by. It is no light matter to order the yearly affairs of the earth."
"No, indeed," she said. "Besides, you have cut him off his blood-offerings which he loves."
"He will be all the better for that," Gunnar replied. "Such food makes fat."
The first village which they reached received them with acclamations. Children with flowers, women with their children, men with their women, were there to receive them. They crowded the green track, they came flying through the forest on all sides. The oxen trudged over budded boughs and the first-born of flowers. The curtains of the forepart were open. Sigrid sat in the wagon by the side of Frey, who shook on his perch. The people werefrantic, and many tried to climb the cart that they might touch Frey's new cloak, or kiss the budded staff in his hand. Gunnar had all to do to keep them free of the wheels. The elders of the village were before the first house and turned when the wagon drew nigh to walk before it to the god-house. It was late by the time they had reached it and got Frey carried in; but there were torchlights everywhere flaring about like fiery serpents, and burning all the pools of water till they looked like melted gold.
They told of great sacrifice in the morning, a boy and girl who were but just mature, and a foreign woman who had been found lost and benighted in the time of snow. Then Gunnar made it plain to them that these things were not to be. "Frey," he said, "utterly abhors this bloodshedding, which, if you persist in it, will fairly ruin your tillage of the year. I know what he will do, for he has done it already. Hewill turn his back upon your fields, and nothing will move him. Be warned therefore, before it is too late."
The people were dismayed, and many murmured. Then Gunnar said, "Bring me your victims, and I will show you the mind of Frey"; which was done. The victims, bound tightly with withy-bands, were set before him. With his knife Gunnar cut their bonds. "You are free," he said, "and no one dare touch you, for Frey wills it. He will bless these fields, seeing that he has blessed you, who are more to him than fields."
Sigrid, who was standing close by, now said, "He speaks truly the mind of Frey, as I myself can testify."
So that year there were no bloody rites, but all other things were done as they had been from time out of mind. They carried Frey about their fields, and said prayers and sang his praises; and so they went on their way through the forest from villageto village. Everywhere Gunnar stopped the sacrifices, and everywhere Sigrid upheld him. In time she was even beforehand with him, and much more vehement than he had ever been. He admired the spirit in which she did it, but advised her to be prudent. "If you say too much," he told her, "they will believe you to be under my thumb." She did not reply to that at first; but presently she said, "If they charged me with that I should not gainsay it."
He smiled with his eyes as well as his lips. "You might find it a softer one than Frey's," he said. She turned away her face, but gave him her hand to hold. He began to talk his nonsense, setting himself the task of making her laugh; for he thought to himself, "They are better when they laugh, for they cannot do it unless their hearts are light."
THE SNOWSTORM
After many weeks journeying in dense woodland country, Frey's wagon was now to cross a range of high mountains. The forest grew lighter, the way was steadily uphill, the wind blew cooler, the trees were more backward. At last they were fairly in the uplands among boulders of rock with here and there a few pines, or a grove of birch. It became like winter again, except for the length of daylight.
There was a rough road by which the mountains were to be passed. They reached it at sunset, and it seemed likely they would have to spend the night upon the top where the snow was still deep. It began to blow fitfully from the east and north,and Gunnar did not like the look of things at all.
"Sweetheart," he said, "we had best shelter hereabouts, for I doubt it is coming on to blow, and we might have snowstorms up above."
"No," said Sigrid, "I feel sure we had best get on. They await us on the further side of the mountain, but a little way down."
"As you will," said Gunnar; "only keep yourself warm inside, and make your curtains as snug as you can."
He had spoken truly. The wind increased, and the powdery snow began flitting in wreaths over the frozen ground. Gunnar put a blanket round Sigrid and drew his coat closer about him. The oxen plodded on without taking notice. But both wind and snow were in their faces, and it was a slow business.
Gunnar kept his eye on the look of the sky. He saw masses of dark cloud behind the mountain range, inky towards themiddle, brown at the edges. "There's a mort of snow to come," he said.
It grew dark quickly, and he sent Sigrid into the wagon. "Get to bed," he told her, "and wrap yourself up warmly. The first good rock I come to I shall shelter the cattle."
"And what will you do yourself?" she wanted to know.
"I shall turn the wagon back to the wind," he said, "and cover the oxen. Then I will do the best for myself I can."
She wasn't satisfied and seemed unwilling to leave him, but he told her again to go to bed. "Well," she said, "I will go, but you shall kiss me first." It was the first time she had ever asked that of him, and he gave her what she wanted, though he had other things to think about then, and plenty of them.
She went away after that, and he trudged along. The snow was coming thick now; he felt it like gnats against his face, andthat his beard was stiff with it. The front of his clothes was like a board, and his knees ached with the strain. The oxen stopped several times; but he hued them on, and often gave a hand to the wheel. But he had to stop as often to let them breathe themselves, and every time he did so they were the harder to move. The fury of the wind drove the snow in wreaths; banks of it formed, through which the cattle stumbled, or failed to stumble. When they failed he had to kick a passage for them.
The point came beyond which he could not get them to move. It was at a bend of the road between high rocks. The wind came down the channel in fury, the snow was blinding. He felt, for he could not see, the trembling beasts, and understood that there was no moving them. Sigrid within the curtains made no sign. Gunnar considered that here they must remain until the storm ceased.
He found stones for the hind wheels of the wain, unyoked the oxen and led them into the lew, out of the fury of the weather. He sought in the choked underpart for their coverings, but could not find them there. They would be in the wagon, and he must have them by all means. He gave them fodder, however, and then wondered what he should do to get their clothing, and to help himself. He was not cold, for his exertions had been too severe, but he would soon become so. Should he make himself a rampart of snow and crouch under that? He knew there was danger of swooning, and rejected the thought. Should he then stamp up and down, flapping his arms until daybreak? He knew that he could not.
"It seems I am to perish for the sake of a wooden god!" His heart grew hot within him. "Accursed idol," he said, "if I had you here I would fight it out with you! And I vow that if I come throughthis pass with safety, and see again my own land, I will take King Olaf's religion, which does not send fair women to sleep with painted stocks."
"Sigrid has little love to spare for the like of me," he thought. "What knows she whether I live or die? There she snuggles asleep, with Frey in her arms." He heard the voice of Sigrid then, with tears in it. "No, no, I do not. Come in and you shall see."
He stared before him. "Sigrid, are you awake?"
She answered, "I am awake, and wait for you."
"Then," said he, "I come, but first give me covering for the cattle or they will perish, for they are now running sweat."
"Stay," she said; "you shall have them; but then you must come."
He was now on fire, and trembling, but he waited while she struck tinder and blew a flame from which she lit a candle.After a time which was enough to cool any one, but did not cool him, she handed him out the wrappings. He made the beasts as snug as he could, and when he had done the candle was still burning fitfully.
MARRIAGE OF SIGRID
Gunnar stood by the wagon, backing the storm. He waited for Sigrid to call him. He could see her shadow moving about, and that she seemed very busy. His temper began to rise. "What is the matter now? Have I not earned shelter yet? Or does she wait until I am frostbitten?"
Her voice came scared from the curtains. "Are you there, Gunnar?"
"Ha! Am I here? I am a hillock of snow. There is nothing left of me that is not ice. Have you no ruth then?"
Her voice had great fear in it. "I am afraid of Frey. He is very angry."
Then Gunnar's wrath overflowed and was bitter in the mouth. "What, is Frey angry? Ah, but I am angry too. I'll deal with Frey. Let me get at him."
He climbed the wagon wheel and put his head and shoulders in the curtains. He saw Frey standing in the cart. With a lurch forward, he got him by the beard and pulled him over towards himself. "Now, Frey, you and I are at grips. Come, out with you."
He now had Frey under the arms, and was hauling him out. When he had got so much of him out as was enough, he let go, and Frey, overbalancing, fell upon his head into the snow. The gleaming of the candle showed him the axe hanging on its accustomed nail. "I'll take that," he said, and got down with it in his hand.
Now he set Frey up in the snow and took him by the ears. Frey had his crown on, but none of his clothes. Seeing himnow as he really was, Gunnar's blood boiled within him.
"Dangerous, malignant idol," he said, with his teeth clenched, "whether you are devil or stock you shall be neither within this few minutes. To what monstrous pass have you brought us, to keep true lovers apart! You, to keep lovers apart! To what shameful drudgery you turn this sweet woman. You, to drudge a woman! Ah, block of abomination, the one good thing you have done is to turn my heart to a faith that is cleaner than yours. If you have set me free, now it is my turn. Here's for Sigrid—and to let the fiend out of the tree." With that he swung the axe high in the air and brought it down true upon the head of Frey. Frey was cloven from the crown to the chine, and fell neatly in halves on either side of him. Gunnar looked up. The cloud-wrack had blown over, the sky was clear and gemmed with stars.
"Frey has ridden off on the storm," he said. Then he called aloud, "Sigrid!" And her faint voice answered, "Gunnar!" He climbed into the wagon.
MORROW OF THE STORM
The storm had abated in the night, the weather of the morning was fair, with a wind from the south. Gunnar, when he went out and looked about him, thought that it would be possible to take up the journey by noon.
But there were more serious things to consider of. Frey was dead and in two halves, and how could they go without Frey? How could they go with him either? He did not know what had better be done.
But Sigrid knew very well. When Gunnar came back to her she told him. "We must go on," she said, "and it is for you now to be Frey. You are strikingly likehim. You would do much greater miracles than ever he did—as," she said, "you have already done."
Gunnar thought about it. "It could be done, I dare say. But we have no wagoner. You would not have Frey drive his own team."
She said, "We shall easily find a teamster in the country. And until we have one I can drive the beasts."
Gunnar said that that would not suit him at all. But they settled it this way, that he should drive until they were nearing the village, which lay upon a shoulder of the mountain, not far from the pass on the further side. Then Sigrid would go and find a wagoner and return with him.
It was necessary to mend Frey's oak-leaf crown, which was in two pieces. Gunnar joined them neatly together, and gilded the edges of the fracture. The axe had been very sharp, the cut very clean. Therewas no trouble with Frey's clothing; Gunnar was happy to resume his cloak.
Scarlet paint to his nostrils was all that he needed to make him as like Frey as need be; but he did not need as yet to change his nature and attributes. There would be time enough for that when Sigrid was gone for the wagoner.
They took up the journey again through the fast-melting snow. It was hard work, but the sun was shining, the sky without a cloud; they made way and reached the top of the pass without serious delay. Thence they could see the village below them. They saw also that on that side of the mountain the snow had not drifted so much. It had been exposed to the full fury of the wind, which had blown the snow off as fast as it fell. Gunnar considered that this would be a good place to wait for the teamster; but Sigrid told him that a little way down there was abetter. "There is a shelter there," she said, "and a little birch wood. You will be more concealed, and I shall not have so far to come back to you."
Gunnar laughed. "Now that you have me, you are glad of me."
Her answer was a long look, and a sigh from a full heart.
They found the little wood and steered the team there. It was in the full sun, with very little snow. Flowers were blowing there, and the birds very busy. Gunnar kissed Sigrid and saw her go on her errand.
As for her, she went on her way rejoicing. She did what she could not remember to have done before—for she was by nature grave and silent: she sang snatches of little songs, at first with no words to them, but afterwards words came of themselves—names which she had had for Gunnar a long time stored in her heart, and others of the kind. After a few turns of theroad she saw a group of men in a walled close, and went to them.
They said that they were expecting Frey and his wagon, fearing that the storm would have stayed him.
"Frey is quite well," she said, "but we have lost our wagoner, who was a Norwegian, and Frey's priest also. He disappeared in the storm, and we suppose he perished in a drift."
"Better men than he have perished last night," said one of the men. "But who may you be, mistress?"
Sigrid said, "I am Frey's wife." And then they all knew her and saluted her with great respect.
"Frey sent me," said she, "to find a man of yours to lead his wagon into your village. Afterwards we must let him choose one who will continue with him on his rounds. It is not likely he will have a new man from every village. He would not be pleased with that."
They talked together, and then said they would all come gladly. "Very good," she said. "You shall all bring us into the village. Now we will go back, for Frey is alone, and I don't know what he may do. He is very strange this morning, and I believe might be dangerous if he were vexed or in any way put out."
They struck off up the mountain, and when they came to the wagon in the birch wood, there stood Frey with shining nostrils, very fierce, in the cart. He had drawn the curtains so that he might look out over the country. Sigrid called their attention to that. "You see how it is with him," she said. "Now I tell you that when I left him those curtains were closely drawn." One of the men said that a night out on the mountain in such a storm was enough to make anybody angry.
He stood up very regally while they stood before him bareheaded. One mansaid a kind of a prayer, deprecating his anger; but Frey took no notice of him. Sigrid said, "Better get on as soon as may be. He will be hungry, and will do no work until he is satisfied." She got up into the wagon and sat beside Frey, and put her hand within his arm. The men urged the oxen down the road, and so they came to the village.
As soon as Sigrid saw the concourse which was out to meet them she drew the curtains, and was immediately in Gunnar's arms. But then, after that, she had to learn what were his intentions.
He said, "I will have no blood-offerings at all. If they must slay oxen and sheep, let it be for a good dinner. I will join them there and they shall be the better of it, as I shall be. But their offerings shall be gold or silver, or clothing, if they wish to serve me. Eggs, too, I will take, or cheese, or milk, or bread. Therefore, Sigrid, you must make them understandand more than that, you must drive it into the head of the man you choose for priest, that blood-sacrifices are an abomination to me."
She promised him that she would see to it all; and so they came into the village with the people flocking about them. When they had taken up their place and the oxen had been unyoked, fed and watered, Sigrid took the headmen apart and told them the mind of Frey. They were disappointed. They said that they had many victims whom they were anxious to dispose of, and not much gold or silver at any rate, and none which they could spare. They hoped therefore that Frey would accept of the accustomed sacrifice, which was a great interest to the people.
Sigrid said, "I see how it is. You wish to glut yourself at Frey's charge, and to rid yourself of what you don't want, nor Frey neither. But Frey knows this better than you do, and is not to be deceived.You will find out very soon that I am right."
They said that he should have eggs, bread, cheese and milk, and went away very discontented.
The hour of the sacrifice was now at hand. Trestles and boards were laid before the wagon to hold up the altar and to make degrees of approach to it. Then when songs had been sung and prayers offered, Sigrid drew the curtains apart and revealed Frey to them.
They brought baskets of bread, cheeses in the round, milk and eggs. With a bearer of eggs Frey worked his first miracle.
A certain man came up with a basketful of eggs; there may have been two dozen of them. He knelt before Frey in his place in the row, waiting his turn. Gunnar, watching him, saw him fingering the eggs while he waited, turning them over, lifting one and weighing it in his hands. Presently he saw him take two from the basket and slip them in his pocket. Whenhe put his hand to them again Frey brought his budded staff smartly down upon the back of it, and smashed it into his eggs. The man gave a yell, and fell down upon his face. All the rest shrank away in consternation, and there was great commotion down below. The man, sobbing and blubbering, drew out of his pocket the stolen eggs. Never had been such a miracle as this within the memory of man. The immediate effect of it was to bring out treasure to the shrine. Women brought their marriage crowns, men their rings and armlets. Fine cloth was offered and stuff embroidered with silk and gold. In the evening there was a feast, to which Frey himself came, and to their wonder and satisfaction ate and drank with the best. He said little; but he listened, and nodded his head when he was pleased, or knit his brows when he was angry. Next day he was drawn in his wagon to their closes and fields, and blessed them allvery graciously. He gave them to understand through his wife that by banking up a torrent they could easily turn it and make a head of water enough to keep the pasture green all the summer through. Another thing he told them was how to make conduit-pipes of the split trunks of trees, hollowed out. All these things were wonderful, and carried the name and fame of Frey before him. The offerings poured into his treasury; he was rich, and had no more trouble with blood-sacrifices. By the end of the sowing season Frey was so rich that the wagon would scarcely hold him, his wife and the treasure. He talked to Sigrid about it, and said, "Sweetheart, I am thinking that we should do well to have a bodyguard before we get into our own country."
Sigrid, who was sitting on his knee at the time, said that no one would dare to attack Frey; but Gunnar nodded his head. "Fame is a strange thing," hetold her; "it takes the guise that is most in men's fancy. Now for one man who has heard report of our miracles, there will be twenty who know that we have a full treasury. I am minded to have a guard before we cross the river and come into the parts where we are known best. And do you know what I am thinking is going to be the crown of Frey's achievement?"
She said, wonderingly, "No." Then Gunnar kissed her. And then she told him that she knew quite well what he meant, and that the truth was so. "Great is Frey," said Gunnar.
NEWS OF FREY REACHES NORWAY
In Norway under King Olaf Trygvasson affairs were prospering all this while. The king had settled his kingdom into his own ways, and being of a restless and acquisitive mind, he was already thinking how he could better himself. He had thought more than once of Iceland as a heathen country stocked with fine people well worth the pains of conversion. "To drive them to the water may cost me five hundred lives," he said, "but you may take that as a sowing of which the harvest will be a thousandfold. Christ will win souls and I a new realm." The more he thought of it the more he desired to do it.
Then there came strange news out of Sweden, of painful interest to King Olaf. He heard of mighty stirrings of the pagan people out there, of miracles wrought by their chief god Frey which overpassed any which his own priests could do. What struck him most in these accounts was that the manner of devotion had been changed. Frey, he was assured, was milder-mannered, and would have nothing to do with human sacrifice. More than that, blood-offerings of all sorts were utterly done away with. The king could not understand it, and talked it over with the lords of his council.
"It looks to me," he said, "as if Frey was half-way to be a Christian. Not only will he have no bloodshed, but all his works are those of mercy. He heals the sick, comforts the fatherless, gives sight to the blind, sets captives free! There is something in all this which I cannot fathom. But let me tell you that baptism of a heathengod would be a thing to root the true faith in the rock, as it should be. Then it would stand fast for ever."
Some said one thing, and some another. But Sigurd Helming looked down at his finger-nails with his brows drawn up very high, and said nothing at all.
He was so pointedly silent that the king observed it. "Well," he asked him, "and what are you thinking to see in your finger-nails?"
Sigurd held up the forefinger of one hand. "There is a white fleck in this one," he said, "which warns me of a stranger in Sweden."
"Well," said King Olaf, "and that is true to report. What next?"
"Sir," said Sigurd, "a stranger to my knowledge went into Sweden a year ago, and has not been heard of as coming out again. That was my brother Gunnar, who went for a good reason."
The king frowned. "You did noservice to this country when you warned him of my anger."
"Sir," Sigurd said, "I know that. But I was very sure then that he had no part in Halward's slaughter, and I believe that you had an inkling of how the case stood. Otherwise you had not kept me on your council, but had expelled me the realm."
"Well," said the king, "what I have heard since has softened my resentment; but I know nothing. What makes you see the mind of Gunnar in these heathen doings?"
"The knowledge I have of his mind," said Sigurd. "He is a merry man and a mild-mannered man until he is vexed. Now, he never would sacrifice beasts to the gods in the old days when the gods required it. And he always said that it was better to kill a man outright than to keep him in chains or darkness. These are two reasons. Lastly, if it is true thatFrey had a woman for his wife, I believe that Gunnar has her now, and that the next miracle of Frey's we hear about will be that she is to give him a child."
The king took hold of his chin under his beard, and considered. Then he said, "Sigurd, do you go into Sweden and witness some of the doings of Frey. If you are right in what you suspect—and I think that you are—you will see Gunnar, and maybe he will tell you the truth of the matter. It is an old story by now, but I don't say that I shall not have a word with the slayer of Halward hereafter if I happen to meet with him." Sigurd said that he would gladly go to Sweden. It was settled that he should set out in the summer when the passes were open and Frey at home again.
SIGURD IN SWEDEN. THE BATTLE OF THE FORD
Sigurd said that he should go to Sweden by sea, as that was the quicker way for one who did not know the land ways. He had a ship fitted out, and was often down on the hard, either going to his ship or coming from it.
One day he saw, or thought he saw, Gunnar sitting there in the sun. It was a man of about his size in a cloak which he had been fond of wearing; a faded red cloak with a hood to it which stuck out in a bunch upon his shoulders. After a good look at him he knew that it could not be Gunnar, but was still curious about the cloak. He went up to the man until hecould touch him, and then did touch him by lifting up the hem of the cloak to see if the braid was like that of Gunnar's. It was the very same.
"Good day to you," Sigurd said, and the man, seeing a lord beside him, rose up and saluted him. He looked like a fisherman or seafarer.
"I was interested in your cloak," Sigurd said. "I think my brother Gunnar will have given it to you. But he left the country more than a twelvemonth ago, and I see that you have worn it hard."
The man laughed. "Not so hard then," he said, "seeing I have not had it in my hands more than a few days, and this is but the second time I have worn it."
"From whom did you receive it? I must needs know, for a good deal hangs upon what you tell me."
The man stared, and then looked rather sullen. "It is fairly mine," he said, "as a thing is that comes from the bottom of the sea."
Now it was Sigurd who stared. "You fished it up from the sea-bed?"
"It came up with my anchor six nights ago or seven."
"Where were you moored?"
He pointed out to sea. "I was lying just off the Ness, having been out with the nets. But the wind shifted at sunset, and I was not hurried, so stayed there snug enough till morning. It is a soft bottom there. In the morning I shipped my anchor, and up comes this cloak with a great stone in the hood of it. It had been cast there by somebody who wanted it to stay there, but you see things went awry with him."
"They did so," said Sigurd. "Now I will give you three crowns for the cloak as it stands."
"If you do that you do a foolish thing," said the man, "but it is not for me to stop you.
"It's not so foolish as you suppose,"Sigurd answered. He paid over his money, and away with the cloak.
"I take you with me to find your master," he said to it, very well satisfied with his morning's work.
He made a good journey in his ship, coasted the land of Sweden and ran up a long way into the land. He arrived there towards the middle of the summer, and made inquiries of the whereabouts of the woodland Frey. Hereabouts, they told him, he was not worshipped, though great tales were told of him which had shaken many, and moved some to go into the forest country to judge for themselves. They gave him certain information where that country was. He was to follow the course of the river up into the land. When it ran finer he would come to a good ford. On the west of that lay the country of the woodland Frey.
Sigurd set off on horseback with a goodretinue, and made long journeys. In about ten days or a fortnight the river began to run brokenly; in a day more he should be at the ford. So it proved. The country ran flat in a broad valley, on the west of which, climbing gradually to the mountains, so far as the eye could see there was forest.
They kept a look-out for the ford, and presently a man of theirs, riding in front, topped, looked earnestly, and then held up his hand with a spear in it. They came up with him. "What is it you see?" Sigurd asked him.
"I see the ford," he said, "and I see also men fighting about it. And it seems to me that twenty are attacking a few."
Sigurd was looking as they all were. "What are those white animals I see on this bank?"
"They are oxen," said the look-out man.
"I see also a great wagon they have behind them. And I believe that Frey isin the wagon. What I marvel at is that he should be there at all and not among the fighters."
"Would Frey fight men?" he was asked.
"If he is what I believe him," said Sigurd, "he would gladly fight men."
They rode on cautiously, taking what cover they could, and came up within a bowshot of the fight. Then they saw that there were eight men against the twenty, of whom some were fallen into the river, and some fell even as they looked. Nevertheless, the greater party was prevailing. They had pushed back the eight to the close neighbourhood of the wagon, and it looked as if it would go hard with them. Frey, they could see, stood fixedly in the front of the cart with his crown on his head, and his cone and rod in his hands. Sigurd wondered at him, and could not think it was Gunnar.
But even while he thought, he saw Frey drop his cone and reach stealthily behindhim. He found what he wanted and held it behind his back, staring all the while fixedly in front.