Over the sea sailed Frithiof with his friends in the good shipEllideto 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 isEllidecoming, 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."
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. AsElliderounded 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."
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 cameSafe 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 layGrove and temple's adorning;Sadly then Frithiof turned away—Wept in the light of morning.
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 shipEllide. 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,Ellideflew. 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 swimmethEllideskimmethOn joyous wings;But Frithiof sings:
"Thou front of creation,Exalted North!I have no stationOn thy green earth.Thy lineage sharingMy 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.
Frithiof's SongFrithiof's Song
Frithiof's SongFrithiof's Song
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 foewithin doors you may view;On his shield sleeps the viking; his sword in his hand, andhis 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 theweak will not tribute withhold;You are king of the waves, he a slave to his gains; andyour steel is as good as his gold.
Let your goods be divided by lot or by dice, how it fallsyou may never complain;But the sea-king himself takes no part in the lots—heconsiders the honour his gain.
If a viking-ship come, there is grappling and strife, andthe fight 'neath the shields will rejoice;If you yield but a pace you are parted from us; 'tis thelaw, you may act by your choice.
If you win, be content: he who, praying for peace, yieldshis sword, is no longer a foe!Prayer's a Valhalla-child, hear the suppliant voice; he'sa coward who answereth no.
Wounds are viking's reward, and the pride of the manon whose breast or whose forehead they stand;Let them bleed on unbound till the close of the day, if youwish to be one of our band.
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, inthe north is the land I hold dear;I will follow the course of the heavenly winds, and backto 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.
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.
INTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THEREINTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THERE
INTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THEREINTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THERE
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 nowThe 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 tallA look of wrath heroic spread o'er his features all—He smote with sword the table till through the hall it rangAnd 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.
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.
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!"
King Ring's SleighKing Ring's Sleigh
King Ring's SleighKing Ring's Sleigh
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.
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 rejoiceClang of shields and rain of arrows! let the sea the battle fill;Purified, I'll then fall gladly, reconciled to heaven's will."
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 drinkingThe 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.
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 wieldFrom 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 setRound land and throne,And with the father's coronetTo crown the son."
The Boy on the ShieldThe Boy on the Shield
The Boy on the ShieldThe Boy on the Shield
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 soreDoth still abide;He took, he only can restoreMy 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.
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."