"So be thou accursed, from the crown of thy head to the sole of thy foot, thou who hast deceived and disgraced a hapless woman;Cursed be thy proud thoughts--Madness shall strike them;Cursed be thy false eyes--Blindness shall smite them;Cursed be thy lying Ups--They shall wither and smile no more;Cursed be thy flattering voice--It shall be dumb;Thy house and thy hall shall perish in flames--The Singing Swan shall burn;Thy hand shall be crippled--thy hammer not strike--thy harp shall shatter;Victory shall be denied thee in battle and in song;Nothing shall any more delight thee, in which of yore thou hast rejoiced;The sun of spring--the flowers of the forest--the fire of wine--the blackbird's song--the greeting of the evening star--Sleepless shall roll thy groaning head, and if slumber draws near to thee it shall be with stifling dreams.Yet a twofold curse shall rend ye both, if thou winnest again a woman's love.In madness and disease shall she perish whom thou lovest more than thy soul.But the son whom I, wretched one, must bear, shall be his mother's avenger upon his father.Liar's son, Scoundrel's son, Harthild's Vengeance shall his name be.And one day, villain, shall he smite thee, as here, to shame thee before all men, my hand now strikes thee in the face."
"So be thou accursed, from the crown of thy head to the sole of thy foot, thou who hast deceived and disgraced a hapless woman;
Cursed be thy proud thoughts--Madness shall strike them;
Cursed be thy false eyes--Blindness shall smite them;
Cursed be thy lying Ups--They shall wither and smile no more;
Cursed be thy flattering voice--It shall be dumb;
Thy house and thy hall shall perish in flames--The Singing Swan shall burn;
Thy hand shall be crippled--thy hammer not strike--thy harp shall shatter;
Victory shall be denied thee in battle and in song;
Nothing shall any more delight thee, in which of yore thou hast rejoiced;
The sun of spring--the flowers of the forest--the fire of wine--the blackbird's song--the greeting of the evening star--Sleepless shall roll thy groaning head, and if slumber draws near to thee it shall be with stifling dreams.
Yet a twofold curse shall rend ye both, if thou winnest again a woman's love.
In madness and disease shall she perish whom thou lovest more than thy soul.
But the son whom I, wretched one, must bear, shall be his mother's avenger upon his father.
Liar's son, Scoundrel's son, Harthild's Vengeance shall his name be.
And one day, villain, shall he smite thee, as here, to shame thee before all men, my hand now strikes thee in the face."
And she lifted high her outspread right hand, and aimed a blow over the table at Halfred's head.
Halfred sprang up, and to avert such a disgrace threw up his left arm. Then he struck the heavy seven flaming candalabrum; with a crash the metal fell with all its flaming arms upon Dame Harthild's breast and body, and then upon the ground.
As though struck by lightning stood the woman all in flames--mantle and hair blazed up. At once the fire caught the straw thickly strewn upon the floor.
"King Hartstein, avenge thy unhappy child," shrieked Harthild, in agony. She believed that in rage Halfred had hurled the candalabrum upon her.
The king believed the same, and whilst Halfred grasped at the blazing woman to rescue her, Kling Hartstein with a cry of "Down thou scoundrel," struck him a sharp sword stroke on the forehead, so that he fell stunned.
And with a second blow he would have slain him, had not Eigil and Hartvik sprung up and quickly borne away their blood brother.
Thus it came to pass that from the very outset Halfred could neither avert nor control this catastrophe--He alone could have done it.
Now, however, the burning woman and the flaming straw filled everyone with sudden frenzy.
The people from Tiunderland rose up in fury when they saw their king's daughter fall flaming on the crackling straw; and Halfred's comrades drew their swords when they saw their lord fall bleeding. And flame and smoke, shrieks of women, and avenging shouts of men filled the hall.
Then broke loose a fighting and devastation in the hall so gigantic, say the heathen people, that the like shall never be seen again until the twilight of the gods, when all demons and giants, goblins and elves, gnomes, menkind, and pigmies, shall slay each other, and heaven, earth and hell shall perish in flames.
Harthild in her burning clothes, was carried out by her shrieking women. One only was missing. Sudha sprang through flames and arms to where Halfred lay on his blood-brethren's knees.
"Dead," she cried; "Slain by Sudha. Then share we death, if not life." And she drew Halfred's dagger from his belt, and plunged it in her own breast.
"Slain Halfred! by my babbling tongue. Sudha slain!" cried Vandrad the Skald. "I will avenge thee, Halfred."
And he tore a casting spear from the trophies hanging on the flame-wreathed wooden pillars, and hurled it whistling at the temples of King Hartstein, so that he fell dead.
Wildly shouted the people of Tiunderland, and their near kindred from West Gothaland, for vengeance for Harthild and King Hartstein.
And the Jarl Ambiorn, from West Gothaland, seized in both hands a heavy brazen double-handled tankard, and dashed it down on Vandrad's forehead, so that he fell.
But when the Princes from East Gothaland saw this, that their mortal foes aided the men from Upsala, then they fell, Helgi and Helgrimr, with furious blows upon both their old enemies, and the guests from Upsala.
And now could none any longer give a thought to extinguishing the blazing straw upon the floor, or the quickly burning silken and woollen hangings on the walls or the wooden pillars, up which tongues of flame were creeping.
For blindly now flew spears and axes, and golden and silver drinking horns; and many who would have striven for peace, or trodden out the flames, had fallen, struck down by both sides.
"Must we alone stand idle among the strange guests at this bloody midsummer feast?" said the Danish Jarl Hako, to the Irish King Konal, "so that the Skalds shall taunt us as drink valiant but battle shy. We have an old strife about stolen horses. Let us fight it out here, thou Irish Greenpeak!"
"Thou drunkard of Zealand," was the answer, "I will quench for ever thy thirst and thy reviling;" and he struck his broad short Irish knife through his teeth into his throat.
Then Sveno, his brother, fell furiously upon the Irish king, and their followers, Danes and Irish, fought by themselves their own battle in the forefront of the hall, and thus blocked up the door, so that no one could escape from the hall into the open air.
And those who had no weapons tore down the trophies from the pillars, or hurled about the heavy drinking horns, and even the flaming beams and blocks which already fell from the ceiling, and instead of shields they defended themselves with the tables.
And all wildly mingled fought the people of Tiunderland and Iceland, of Westgothaland and Eastgothaland, of Zealand and Ireland. And hardly did anyone know who was friend or foe; and many, many men sank down, wounded or burnt.
And at last the flames had burst through the roof, and shot blazing up towards heaven.
And as the wind from above blew down upon the swelling hangings on the walls, they flashed up suddenly in a brighter blaze.
And now the highest beam fell with a crash; and thereupon rang out a sound as though forty harp strings had all at once uttered their dying wail. And it was even so, for the beam had severed in twain Halfred's silver harp, which lay close by his head.
At this wailing harp cry Halfred opened his eyes, and looked around him, and all the truth broke upon him. He sprang up and shouted threateningly through slaughter and flames--Hartvik and Eigil protected him with shield and sword--
"Hold! Peace, peace in the hall! Magic has frenzied us all! Quench, quench the fire which devours us all!"
And so great was his power over friends and foes that for a moment all paused.
Then hark! From without there thundered on the hindmost door of the hall heavy axe strokes, and the cry--
"Halfred, Halfred, save thy house! Save the Singing Swan!"
With a crash the door fell inwards, and new devastation was seen, which kindled afresh the momentarily smothered battle fury in the hall.
Halfred looked through the doorway. The house of his forefathers, and the ships in the harbour, and the Singing Swan were all wrapped in flames.
The followers of the princes of Westgothaland, who were lodged in the pine huts, had first heard the din of battle, and seen the flames in the hall. "To the rescue--to the rescue of our lords," they shouted, tore down the wooden wall that divided them from the Mead hall, and hurried to their aid.
But then there threw themselves upon them, to hinder them, their hostile neighbours, the followers of the princes of Eastgothaland, who being too weak to hold the open field, retreated partly into Halfred's dwelling house, partly to their ships in the Fjord.
With shouts of triumph the victors followed, crowded with the fugitives into Halfred's dwelling house, and stormed the ships in the bay; and dwelling house and ships were suddenly wrapped in flames, either set on fire by the combatants, or ignited by sparks and burning splinters, borne by the strong south wind from the roof of the Mead hall.
Halfred threw one glance at his shattered harp, and the burning house of his fathers; then he grasped his hammer firmer, and cried--
"Come hither to me all Halfred's comrades. Quit the hall. Save the Swan!"
And with a mighty onslaught, swinging his hammer round his head, he burst through the ranks of the men who had already renewed the battle in the hall.
Hartvik and Eigil followed on his track, and many of his own people, and also of the enemy.
But those who did not leave the drinking hall with him were almost all at once numbered with the dead. For with a heavy crash, close behind Halfred, fell the whole burning roof into the hall.
Halfred glanced back in his rapid course. High upwards shot the blaze, mingling with sound of shrieks from hundreds slain. Then all was silent in the midsummer feast hall.
Halfred rushed on, followed by friends and foes, past his father's house. He saw the flames creeping up the pillars; within rose the din of raging conflict; on the threshold lay a slaughtered servant girl.
Soon Halfred and his comrades reached the bay, where the battle surged around the high-decked ships. Many were burning. Many dragon's heads seemed to vomit fire and smoke.
Around the Singing Swan, however, raged the battle most furiously. In dense masses the enemy thronged round her, wading, swimming, in boats and on rafts, they crowded on; others hurled spears and arrows from the shore at her defenders, and more than one burning arrow had struck and set fire to her.
The left wing of the ingeniously carved Swan was on fire; tongues of fire were creeping up ropes and sails--just as Halfred arrived they caught the mast.
Then grief and fury seized upon him. His temple veins swelled almost to the size of a child's finger.
"Quench, quench the flames! All hands on deck! Save the Swan! Cut the anchor-cable. Put out to sea. Fight no more. I will fight for you all."
His faithful followers obeyed him. The seamen left off fighting, and laboured only to quench the flames, in which also they soon succeeded, as no more arrows flew from the land, and the foe were forced to leave the ship.
For Halfred raged furiously, as none had ever seen him fight. With a loud battle-cry he sprang upon the people of Westgothaland and Tiunderland, and struck them down one after another.
Loyally aided him Hartvik and Eigil, his blood brethren, and spared not even their own countrymen and kindred; but thought rather on the blood oath which bound them more closely to Halfred than to their own kinsmen.
And the foe fell back before Halfred and his comrades, from the open field into the dwelling house, which was half burned down, and barricaded it.
And thus he stormed his own house, in which the people from Westgothaland had before overcome the house churls and the East Goths, and slain them all.
Yet a whole hour lasted the conflict. There Halfred, on the threshold of his house, slew the Danish Jarl Sveno, the last chieftain of the enemy who still lived, and pressed into the house with his men.
The people from Westgothaland, Zealand, and Tiunderland, defended themselves like bears at bay. But at last they were all slain. And from thence Halfred returned to the Mead hall, which was still glowing, and searched who there still lived.
But there, also, all were dead.
And they found the bodies of King Hartstein, and Sudha, and of the Dane Hako, and the two Irishmen, Konal and Kiartan, of the Eastgothic Prince Helge--Helgrimr had fallen on board ship--and of Arngeir and Arnbiorn--Arnolfr had been slain in the dwelling house--and they found Vandrad the Skald at the point of death.
Then he told Halfred how Sudha had prevailed upon him to speak, and begged him to forgive him the death of so many heroes. And Halfred held his hand until he was dead.
But Dame Harthild's body they did not find, although many of her women lay burnt or slain in the dwelling-house.
But many bodies were so burnt and charred they could not be recognised.
And then they turned their search to the ships.
And all the ships of the foreign guests were burnt, and all those of the Icelanders which lay in the bay. For at the last, by reason of Halfred's furious attack, no one had thought any more about extinguishing them.
And Halfred, with his trumpet, hailed the Singing Swan, which floated saved in the moonlight, and went on board with his little troop.
And there lay slain many hundreds of Halfred's Icelanders,
The foreign guests, however, who had come to the midsummer feast, lay all all dead, save only Hartvik and Eigil.
And Halfred counted when he called all hands before the mast still seventy men alive.
All the rest had fallen in that one midsummer night. And there fell after that wild tumult an awful stillness upon land and sea. And sad and silent floated the Singing Swan, with scorched sails, upon the Fjord.
And Halfred has sunk into deep deep silence. Since the fight had ended, and he had heard Vandrad's dying words, he had not spoken a word.
But when it was full daylight the Singing Swan drew near the land, and the men came ashore.
Silently Halfred signed to his sailing comrades to carry out all the bodies from the drinking hall, the dwelling-house, and the ships; and to collect them altogether on the shore. He had seven funeral piles erected, and upon these all the dead were burned with their weapons. The ashes, however, of friends and foes Halfred ordered them to mingle.
And these he poured himself into a great stone-lined grave which he had had dug on the shore, hard by the water line. And he had earth heaped thickly upon them, and a huge black block of stone which had once been thrown out of Hekla rolled thereon. And this cost many days work.
But Halfred spoke not. And all through the nights he sat upon the grave and looked now upwards to the stars of the summer night, now downwards rigidly upon the earth, and the stone grave. And gently gently he oftimes shook his head.
But he spoke no word.
And when after seven nights the sun arose, Hartvik and Eigil drew near to him, as he sat upon the stone, and then Hartvik spoke--
"Halfred, my blood brother, a great calamity has befallen to thee, to me, to us. Father and sister and many friends have I lost, and Eigil has also lost many who were dear to him. We must bear it, all three. Come, Halfred, Sigskald, arouse thyself! This silence and brooding is evil. Dwelling-house and Mead hall the fire has burnt--the axe will build them up. Harps, there are many still upon the earth, and the Singing Swan spreads out her hardly singed pinions. Come, Halfred, drink! Here I have brought thee from the Greek spoils of the Singing Swan a cup of Chios wine, which thou ever lovedst. Drink, speak, and live!"
"Halfred, my blood brother, a great calamity has befallen to thee, to me, to us. Father and sister and many friends have I lost, and Eigil has also lost many who were dear to him. We must bear it, all three. Come, Halfred, Sigskald, arouse thyself! This silence and brooding is evil. Dwelling-house and Mead hall the fire has burnt--the axe will build them up. Harps, there are many still upon the earth, and the Singing Swan spreads out her hardly singed pinions. Come, Halfred, drink! Here I have brought thee from the Greek spoils of the Singing Swan a cup of Chios wine, which thou ever lovedst. Drink, speak, and live!"
Halfred stood up with a sigh, took the cup from Hartvik's hand, and poured the wine slowly upon the grave; the earth drank it greedily in.
"Come hither again about midnight. Then will I give ye an answer. I cannot even yet think clearly. Once more will I ask the gods who dwell in the stars if they even yet deny me an answer."
"Come hither again about midnight. Then will I give ye an answer. I cannot even yet think clearly. Once more will I ask the gods who dwell in the stars if they even yet deny me an answer."
And he sat down again upon the stone, and covered his face with his hands.
And when about midnight the two came, Halfred pointed towards the heavens--
"There are so many thousand thousand stars, but they are all dumb to me.Unceasingly, for seven days and nights, have I asked myself, and asked the stars, wherefore have the Gods allowed this awful thing to happen?Is it a crime that I vowed a vow, such as many which are vowed in the north?Hundreds of women had heard it without resentment.Is it my crime that Dame Harthild was differently minded?And it was no lie that I bore love to her, on that night.Love's fulness truly it was not--as Sudha named it.That may be. Never knew I love's fulness.And be it so. If the Gods hate me for an evil deed, wherefore do they not punish me alone?Wherefore let others--so many others--suffer and atone formysin?Wherefore should King Hartstein perish, and many other princes, and thousands of men from all coasts and islands?Wherefore should Dame Harthild perish, whom they would have avenged, and our unborn son?How have all these sinned? Answer me, ye two, if ye know more than do I and the stars?"
"There are so many thousand thousand stars, but they are all dumb to me.
Unceasingly, for seven days and nights, have I asked myself, and asked the stars, wherefore have the Gods allowed this awful thing to happen?
Is it a crime that I vowed a vow, such as many which are vowed in the north?
Hundreds of women had heard it without resentment.
Is it my crime that Dame Harthild was differently minded?
And it was no lie that I bore love to her, on that night.
Love's fulness truly it was not--as Sudha named it.
That may be. Never knew I love's fulness.
And be it so. If the Gods hate me for an evil deed, wherefore do they not punish me alone?
Wherefore let others--so many others--suffer and atone formysin?
Wherefore should King Hartstein perish, and many other princes, and thousands of men from all coasts and islands?
Wherefore should Dame Harthild perish, whom they would have avenged, and our unborn son?
How have all these sinned? Answer me, ye two, if ye know more than do I and the stars?"
But his blood brethren were silent, and Halfred continued--
"Yet there must be Gods!Who has else bound the giants, calmed the sea, levelled the earth, arched the heavens, and strewn the stars? Who else guides the battle? and how, after death, come mighty heroes to Valhalla, and the evil to the dark serpent hell?For that awful fearful thought which already from afar has come darkly into my mind, that perhaps no Gods live! I will think it no more.There must be Gods. I cannot cannot think otherwise, and my throbbing brain is driven to frenzy.And if there are Gods, they must be also good, and wise, and mighty, and just.Else it would be indeed yet more frightful to think that beings, mightier and wiser than mankind, delighted in the misery of men, like an evil urchin who for sport impales a captured beetle.This, therefore, one dare not think,--neither, indeed,--that there are no Gods, or that there are evil Gods.And therefore will I in devout submission endure this awful calamity, waiting till, in the course of years, I guess this riddle also. So hard an one was never yet set before me.But ye, ye faithful ones, who stood by me to the death, and spared not your own kindred, and have lost your nearest through me; ye will I never forsake, all my life long; and great gratitude will I bear ye, and my dearest shall ye be for evermore. For ye alone will I live."
"Yet there must be Gods!
Who has else bound the giants, calmed the sea, levelled the earth, arched the heavens, and strewn the stars? Who else guides the battle? and how, after death, come mighty heroes to Valhalla, and the evil to the dark serpent hell?
For that awful fearful thought which already from afar has come darkly into my mind, that perhaps no Gods live! I will think it no more.
There must be Gods. I cannot cannot think otherwise, and my throbbing brain is driven to frenzy.
And if there are Gods, they must be also good, and wise, and mighty, and just.
Else it would be indeed yet more frightful to think that beings, mightier and wiser than mankind, delighted in the misery of men, like an evil urchin who for sport impales a captured beetle.
This, therefore, one dare not think,--neither, indeed,--that there are no Gods, or that there are evil Gods.
And therefore will I in devout submission endure this awful calamity, waiting till, in the course of years, I guess this riddle also. So hard an one was never yet set before me.
But ye, ye faithful ones, who stood by me to the death, and spared not your own kindred, and have lost your nearest through me; ye will I never forsake, all my life long; and great gratitude will I bear ye, and my dearest shall ye be for evermore. For ye alone will I live."
Then spake Hartvik--
"Not thus must thou speak, Halfred. The harp thou shalt again strike victoriously, the hammer shalt thou again joyously wield under the blue heavens of Greece. The blood of the vine shalt thou quaff, and a woman more enchanting than----"
"Not thus must thou speak, Halfred. The harp thou shalt again strike victoriously, the hammer shalt thou again joyously wield under the blue heavens of Greece. The blood of the vine shalt thou quaff, and a woman more enchanting than----"
Then Halfred sprang up from the black stone--
"Silence, Hartvik: Thou blasphemest.Who is stricken so heavily as I, by the hatred of the Gods, who live and are just, he stands as a lightning-blasted tree by the way. Birds sing not upon it, the dew moistens it not, the sun kisses it not.How should I sing and laugh, drink and kiss, through whom hath fallen upon so many thousand men and women utter destruction, or the sorrow of death for evermore?No, otherwise have I vowed to myself.Long did I doubt if I still could live, after such a calamity as the Gods have laid upon this head, and I could not, did I not believe in good Gods, and tarry for the solving of this riddle.But joy and happiness have no more part in Halfred Hamundson. I renounce them for ever."
"Silence, Hartvik: Thou blasphemest.
Who is stricken so heavily as I, by the hatred of the Gods, who live and are just, he stands as a lightning-blasted tree by the way. Birds sing not upon it, the dew moistens it not, the sun kisses it not.
How should I sing and laugh, drink and kiss, through whom hath fallen upon so many thousand men and women utter destruction, or the sorrow of death for evermore?
No, otherwise have I vowed to myself.
Long did I doubt if I still could live, after such a calamity as the Gods have laid upon this head, and I could not, did I not believe in good Gods, and tarry for the solving of this riddle.
But joy and happiness have no more part in Halfred Hamundson. I renounce them for ever."
And he kneeled down, and took from his breast pouch a leathern bottle, which was filled with white ashes. And slowly he strewed them all over his long flowing black locks, and his face, and breast, and body.
"Hear me, ye good all ruling Gods, and ye glittering all seeing stars of heaven; and of men-kind upon earth, Hartvik and Eigil, my blood brethren!Here I renounce, on account of the awful calamity which I have drawn down upon wife and child, and many hundred friends and strangers, I renounce for ever happiness and joy, song, wine, and the love of women.To the dead alone, slain for my crime, with whose ashes I here cover myself upon their grave mound, do I belong; and among the living, to my faithful blood brethren.And if I break this solemnly sworn vow, then be Dame Harthild's curse wholly fulfilled."
"Hear me, ye good all ruling Gods, and ye glittering all seeing stars of heaven; and of men-kind upon earth, Hartvik and Eigil, my blood brethren!
Here I renounce, on account of the awful calamity which I have drawn down upon wife and child, and many hundred friends and strangers, I renounce for ever happiness and joy, song, wine, and the love of women.
To the dead alone, slain for my crime, with whose ashes I here cover myself upon their grave mound, do I belong; and among the living, to my faithful blood brethren.
And if I break this solemnly sworn vow, then be Dame Harthild's curse wholly fulfilled."
And the stars and his friends in silence heard his vow.
And Halfred kept his word.
Year after year passed away--he told me he no longer knew how often. Meanwhile midsummer returned--and Halfred lived a life which was as a living death.
Hartvik and Eigil commanded the Singing Swan, and ruled their sailing comrades. They chose the design, the port, and the course of their voyages. Halfred without word, wish, or choice, let everything be.
Only, when the south wind grew too strong for Hartvik's hand, Halfred strode silently to the helm, and steered until the sea was calm again.
Also, when Vikings attacked the ship, Halfred had forbidden that the Singing Swan, either by sea or land, should do harm to any--and the danger became overwhelming, Halfred silently--he raised the battle cry no more--grasped his hammer, and dashed among the enemy until they gave way.
But he wielded his hammer only with his left hand--his shield he had laid aside--and neither with helmet nor mail did he protect his head and breast.
And throughout the whole year he wore the garment which on that midsummer night smoke, flame and blood had darkly dyed.
When the Singing Swan drew near the land--the black flame marks on the wings none were allowed to efface--and Hartvik and Eigil and the sailors went to the halls of kings, Halfred stayed lying upon deck, and kept guard over the ship.
And he drank only water out of a cup of the bitter juniperwood.
Eigil brought once, from a king's halls where the Sigskald of yore had often been a guest, a splendid golden harp, which the queen, in greeting to her old friend, had sent as a present.
But as the ship turned out of the bay the harp, with a light rush, glided into the sea.
And once Halfred lay at midsummer in Iceland, on the shore by the black stone--for every midsummer night he spent alone there, his friends must remain on the ship--and looked very very sad. For his face had grown very pale.
Then there came a woman, and a wonderfully beautiful maiden, who was her daughter, and stood before him; and he turned away his face, but the mother spoke--
"I know thee, even yet, Halfred Sigskald. I can never forget thy face, although the smile of Oski no longer plays thereon, and though the furrows on thy brow are deeply scored as with a plough. This maiden dids't thou, fifteen years ago, lay in my arms a sleeping child. See how beautiful she has become, as no other in all Iceland. And this wreath of summer flowers has she twined for thee. Set it upon thy pale brow, and thou shalt be healed, for gratitude has woven it."
"I know thee, even yet, Halfred Sigskald. I can never forget thy face, although the smile of Oski no longer plays thereon, and though the furrows on thy brow are deeply scored as with a plough. This maiden dids't thou, fifteen years ago, lay in my arms a sleeping child. See how beautiful she has become, as no other in all Iceland. And this wreath of summer flowers has she twined for thee. Set it upon thy pale brow, and thou shalt be healed, for gratitude has woven it."
Then Halfred sprang up, took the wreath from the beautiful blushing maiden's hand, lifted with mighty force the huge block upwards, threw the wreath under it, and let the black stone fall heavily in its place again.
The mother and maiden, weeping, departed.
And during these years Halfred spoke hardly to any, save Hartvik and Eigil, and to them only when he must.
And what he said was weak and mournful.
And his voice had become very low.
And he was very kind to everyone, above all to those below him.
And often in the night the sailors heard him sigh, and turn himself upon the straw bed upon the deck, where always, even in the cold winter, he lay under the stars.
And they heard him often speak when there was no one at hand with whom he could talk.
And at table he rested his head upon his left hand, and kept his eyes cast downwards, or looked into the far far distance.
And he almost never complained, only he often shook his head gently, and pressed very very often his left hand upon his breast, and said many times--
"The fresh air of heaven shuns me. I cannot breathe. If I will breathe I must sigh. My heart is almost crushed."
And Hartvik and Eigil said one to the other--"He is ill."
And once, when they sailed to Greece, Hartvik secretly called a physician--they are very skilful there--and the physician watched Halfred many days and nights, and said--
"It is a heavy malady under which this poor man suffers.
"And many have already quietly died of it, or sunk into madness.
"We call it 'Melancholy.'"
And the Singing Swan sailed again into the western seas, in the late spring and early summer, at the time which the Latins call "Mensus Madius."
And because of the long voyage the provisions were exhausted, and the ship also needed rest and repairing.
And Halfred's blood brethren said to him, when they came into the waters of the island of Hibernia--
"Both men and stores need caring for: we will land at King Thorul's sea castle, and provide all that we need on board. Far famed is King Thorul's hall; there they have great skill on the harp. Come with us to the city; rejoice thy heart in human fellowship, for there thou cans't not, as heretofore, lie upon the ship. Even to the Singing Swan will many people come, workmen and traders, and thou wouldst not be alone under thy stars. Shall we not steer for the green island?"
And Halfred nodded, and Hartvik joyfully turned the helm sharp to the west.
When, however, they saw the towers of Thorul's hall rise from the waves in the morning light, Halfred, with his own hand, lowered the smaller boat, which lay fastened on the deck near the helm, and said--
"When ye have rejoiced yourselves at King Thorurs court, and have provided for the ship, seek me, after twenty nights, on yonder small rocky island."
And he took arrow, and bow, and fishing hook, sprang into the boat, and rowed to the island.
But, the Singing Swan sailed further to the west.
And Halfred landed upon the small rocky island; he found a fitting bay, and drew his boat high up upon the white sand of the shore.
And then there came floating to him on the air something which was strange and yet well known to him. Only under the golden stars of Greece and Rome had he ever heretofore enjoyed the intoxication of such fragrance.
There is, that is to say, a flower of the delicate hue of a maiden's cheek, "Rosa" the Latins call it, and its fragrance is as the kiss of pure maiden lips.
And this flower had the Roman heroes, so long as they were powerful in these western lands, carefully tended in their houses and gardens. Long since, however, had the Roman heroes vanished, their stately dwellings were abandoned and ruined, their gardens grown wild.
And wild also had grown the maiden tinted flower which they call Rosa, and had spread all over the island, and flourished luxuriantly everywhere, and breathed forth a strong intoxicating perfume.
On these small islands which lie round about the great western island of Hibernia, the air is always mild; the snow seldom there remains lying on the land, and only slightly, and for a short time are the streams frozen.
And the singing birds which elsewhere retreat before the frost, rest for the winter in these retreats, where meadows, shrubs, and trees, remain green even in the severest seasons. For it rains often there, and moist is the breath of the billows rolling around.
And the heathen people, therefore, call these islands "Baldur's Islands," for Baldur they name the God of the spring dawning.
And as Halfred climbed up the hill from the shore, all the underwood and sweet-springing thorns were in full bloom; white thorn and red thorn and black thorn and the wild roses.
And also the many splendid fruit trees which the Roman heroes had brought with them from the south and the east, were in full bloom.
And from every shrub and tree resounded the sweet tones of the grey brown singing bird, which the Latins call "Luscinia," the Greeks "Philomela," but we, the "Nightingale."
And Halfred strode upwards and inland, by the side of a clear rapid stream, which flowed over white pebbles, through light green copsewood. On the height he came to a transparent copse of alders, young beeches, and slender white birches. There lovely broad-winged butterflies flitted over the beautiful flowers in the sunny glades. Deep in the thicket sang the thrush. The tops and pliant boughs of the birches nodded and waved.
And then there came to him, borne on the morning wind, yet other sounds than the song of the nightingale, far clearer and softer, as from the lightly-touched strings of a harp; but which sounded far more beautiful than any harp playing, either of his own or any other Skald, which he had ever heard.
And from high above, as if from heaven, the tones appeared to come. Halfred followed the sounds, which powerfully moved and allured him.
No sound since the last dying shriek of his harp had reached his soul through his ears. These harp tones aroused his soul. He believed that elves or Bragi, the song God, were harping in the air.
He wished not to scare the singer, but to listen. Softly he passed on, choosing his steps; the wood-grass betrayed him not, for it was soft, long, and thick.
He had now come quite near to the sound, yet still he saw not the singer. Cautiously he parted the thick white thorn bushes, and perceived then a small green mound, upon which stood in a circle six beeches. But the seventh, the tallest, stood in the centre, and towered above them all; and around its trunk wound an ornamental staircase made of white wood; and made of the same white wood there was a slight platform fitted in where the broad branches of the beech spread themselves out. The railing of both staircase and platform was ingeniously carved.
From this airy bower floated down the wonderful tones.
Halfred drew nearer, and spied through the branches and the crevices of the platform. His heart throbbed high with amazement, awe, and yearning.
There he saw the player.
On the railing leaned a boy who was wonderfully beautiful, so beautiful, Halfred said to me, that never had he seen such beauty upon earth--so beautiful as the elves must be, in which the heathen people believe.
He was altogether white--his slender face was white as the stone which the Greeks call "Alabaster;" the folded garment which reached from his neck to his knees was white, and white were the leathern shoes upon his feet.
But the eyes and hair of the boy were like gold.
And Halfred said to me that the eyes were the golden brown of the eagle's eyes. In the shining hair, however, which a net of the same colour confined, instead of a hat, played hither and thither, bright sun-tinted gleams, as though a sunbeam had lost itself therein, and now vainly sought to find an outlet.
And the boy played upon a small three-sided stringed instrument, such as only the Skalds of Hibernia carry, and played a wholly unknown melody.
And he played and sang so beautifully, that Halfred had never yet heard such playing and singing; mournful and yet blissful at the same time, was the melody, like the pain of yearning, which yet for no pleasure of the earth would the heart resign.
And Halfred told me that for the first time since that midsummer night a warm breath passed again over his soul.
And the beautiful boy in the airy bower enchained his eyes, and the mournful yearning song entranced his soul.
And for the first time, for many, many years, his breast could heave with a full drawn breath.
And tears filled his eyes, and restored and healed him, and made him young once more, like cool dew upon the heath after a burning sun.
And at the close of every two lines the words of the song rang harmoniously together, like--and yet again not altogether entirely like--as though two voices sought each other in sound and echo.
Or as when man and woman, one and yet two, are folded together in a kiss.
The boy sang in the soft lisping Irish language, which Halfred well knew. But that closing concord had he never heard, and it resounded far more pleasingly upon the ear than did the dead consonant staves of the Skalds.
And this was the boy's song,--
"On light slender branches blowingWhite rose yearns through May's young bloom--Sun God, 'tis for thee I'm glowing,When wilt thou, thy bright face showing,Quaff full deep my fresh perfume?When wilt thou, for ardour sighing,Greet my flowers in trembling bliss?Come, and must I rue thee dying,Leave within my chalice lying,Fiery sweet, thy fervid kiss."
"On light slender branches blowingWhite rose yearns through May's young bloom--Sun God, 'tis for thee I'm glowing,When wilt thou, thy bright face showing,Quaff full deep my fresh perfume?When wilt thou, for ardour sighing,Greet my flowers in trembling bliss?Come, and must I rue thee dying,Leave within my chalice lying,Fiery sweet, thy fervid kiss."
Here closed the boy's song and playing with a clear resounding chord on the strings.
And as soon as he ceased, and had hung his harp on the boughs, lo! there came flying from the nearest shrub two snow-white doves, which lighted one on the right, the other on the left shoulder of the boy, who smiling stroked their heads, and slowly, thoughtfully, with stately, and yet almost timed step, came down the white wooden stairs, and stood upon the beautiful flowery turf of the greenwood glade.
Halfred dreaded that he might terrify the gentle harper if he stepped suddenly out of the thicket before him.
Therefore he called to him first, from a distance, in a soft voice, slowly drawing nearer.
"Hail, gentle boy! If thou art mortal, may the Gods be gracious to thee. If thou art thyself a God, or as I surmise one of the light elves, then be not ungracious to me, a mortal man."
Then the boy turned slowly towards him, without seeming to be terrified, or even surprised, and as Halfred now drew nearer, he said in a melodious vibrating voice--
"Welcome, Halfred. Art thou come at last? I have tarried long for thee."
And he offered him both hands; the glance of the golden eyes sinking deep into Halfred's soul.
Halfred, however, dared not to touch those hands. He felt, from the very depths of his being, a quickening warmth uprise, and send rippling through body and soul a quiver of delight--of joy in surpassing beauty--but also of holy awe, as in the presence of gods or spirits; for he had no longer any doubt that it was no earthly being who stood before him.
Voice and breath almost failed him as he asked--
"Who hath proclaimed to thee Halfred's coming, and name!"
"The moonlight."
"Then art thou indeed, as I had already perceived, the prince of the light elves, to whom moon and stars speak words. Be gracious to me, O loveliest of the Gods."
Then the boy smiled. "I am a child of earth, like thyself, Halfred. Draw nearer. Take my hands."
"But who art thou, if thou art mortal!" asked Halfred, still hesitating.
"Thoril, King Thorul's orphan grandchild."
"And wherefore dwellest thou here alone, on this small island, as though hidden, and not in King Thorul's hall?"
"He dreamed thrice that danger threatened me, in the month when the wild roses blow; a strange ship which should come into his harbour would carry me away, never to be seen again.
"To render me quite safe against this danger he sent me here to this small outlying island, at which, because of its circling cliffs, no ship can land. Only Moëngal, his ancient armour-bearer, and his wife, my foster-mother, are with me; yonder, in that small wooden house, behind the beech mound, we live. But so long as the dear lord shines, and the gay butterflies flit over the flowers, I tarry here in hidden airy bower."
"But, thou wonderful boy, if thou art really a child of earth, how could the moon reveal to thee my coming and my name?"
"I sleep not in the moonlight, because it entices me out and upwards. It lifts me by force from my couch, and upwards to itself. With closed eyes, they say, I wander then away on the narrowest ridges of the roof; and far away, through forest and mountain, I see what shall happen in the future, and the distance.
"Carefully they guarded me, therefore, in the king's hall. But here, the clear moon looks freely through the rifts in our cottage roof.
"And I saw, seven nights ago, a ship, with a swan on the prow, that drew nearer and nearer. On the deck lay sleepless a dark-bearded man, with a noble countenance. 'Halfred,' his two friends called him.
"And ever nearer floated the sailing Swan. But when, one cloudy night, the moon shone not upon my pillow, and my eyes could not see the ship, and the man, then yearning seized upon me for that noble countenance. And I laid my pillow and my head, since then, ever carefully under the full flood of the moonlight. And night after night I gazed again on that lofty forehead and these palid temples.
"But still more beautiful and lordly art thou, than thy dream picture; and never have I seen a man to equal thee."
"But thou," cried Halfred, seizing both the singer's hands, "art like Baldur in spring beauty, gentle boy.
"Never have I seen such perfect charm in youth or in maiden. Like sunshine upon chilled limbs, like Chios wine through parched throat, flows thy beauty through my eyes deep into my soul. Thou art as the blackbird's song and the wood flowers: as the evening star in golden clouds; thou art as the most wonderful song which ever resounded from the lips of a Skald; thyself, as thou livest and movest, thou art pure poetry.
"O Thoril, golden boy, how gentle thou art! how thou hast quickened my grief-worn heart. O Thoril, leave me never again!
"Take up once more thy magic harp; uplift once more that sweet song, which has awakened my soul from the sleep of death.
"O come, let me lay my heavy head upon thy knee, and gaze in thy sunny wondrous face, while thou tunest thy harp, and playest and singest."
And thus they both did.
And trustfully flew one of the doves from Thoril's hand to Halfred's broad shoulder, and cooed lovingly to the other.
And when the song was ended, Halfred seized again the two hands of the boy, and drew them slowly slowly over his forehead, and his moist eyes.
And it all was as it stands written in the sacred books of the Jews, of the King full of sadness and heaviness, who could only be healed by the harp-playing of the son of Jesse.
And this lasted many days; and upon Halfred's forehead the lines and furrows disappeared, one after another. And once more he could draw a deep full breath without sighing.
And he carried his head again proudly erect, when he did not purposely bend down to look into the golden eyes of the boy, which ever again and again he did.
And so much did Halfred dread to lose Thoril again, that he never left his side the live-long day. And because Thoril's couch and sleeping chamber were, as he said, so small that Halfred could not share them, he lay before the door upon the threshold.
Nevertheless he still could not sleep; but now, because with ardent yearning he listened to the breathing of the sleeper. And with the earliest dawn of morning he would rouse Thoril from sleep and his sleeping chamber.
And it seemed as if the old gift of Oski was given back to Halfred, the winning of all hearts. For the two guardians of the boy, who full of mistrust had seen the strange man approach their cottage, holding Thoril's hand--the ancient Moëngal had rushed at him with a spear--were at once gentle and won, when he begged, with the old smile of Oski--"Let me be healed at Thoril's golden eyes."
But on the thirtieth day--the time when the Singing Swan should come for him was long passed, but Halfred thought not of that--the two went out with hooks and lines to catch fish. For Moëngal's provisions were exhausted.
In the midst of the island lay a dark lake, surrounded by steep high cliffs. But from the lake a streamlet flowed to the open sea. In a small boat they could row upon this lake, and down the streamlet to the sea. And there were many splendid fish called silver salmon in the lake, and in the stream, and even down in the salt sea.
And Halfred and Thoril rowed over the lake the whole morning, and laid ground hooks and nets.
And when, towards mid-day, the heat burned more and more fiercely down upon them, Halfred said--
"Come away from this shadeless depth. There above, on the cliff, I see falling the glittering spray of a silver rill--amidst alders, amidst wild roses it springs. There above, it is cool and shady. Easily shall we find a grotto in the rock. I long for that fresh spring water. And there above, to the left, nod dark sweet berries--they quench the thirst, and young boys love them. Let us climb up. I will gladly aid thee."
And slowly they climbed the steep face of the cliff. Thoril now aided, now followed by Halfred.
Then there floated to them, half-way up to the fountain, a strong perfume from a hollow linden tree, like wine, but it was wild honey which the wood-bees had gathered there.
And Thoril dipped his forefinger deep in the bright thick mixture, and laid it upon Halfred's lips, and smiled at him, and said--
"Take it. It is very sweet."
And most enchanting he looked.
Then Halfred exclaimed--
"Such honey, so say the people, the Gods have laid upon my lips. Try if it is true."
And he suddenly clapped Thoril's head, which was bent down towards him, with both hands, and kissed him on his full lips.
Then both started asunder. A burning glow shot through Halfred's frame. But Thoril turned away his face, quivering slightly, and rapidly climbed up the cliff.
Halfred paused, and drew a deep breath--
Then he followed.
"See, Thoril," cried Halfred halting, "this cavern, hollowed by the elves in the rock. The thick thorn bushes, with the perfumed red flowers, almost hide the entrance; and see there, how the brown nightingale on her nest guards the small doorway, and how the honey bees swarm around. Here will we stop and rest as we descend, when we have drunk above."
But Thoril made no answer, and climbed more quickly upwards.
They had still some fifty paces to climb upwards to the edge of the cliff whence the spring water fell in silver spray. Halfred was surprised that henceforward the boy went steadily on, turning his back to him, and if he sought to aid him in climbing, held on his course without looking round.
Fiercely beat the noontide down upon the cliff; all around was deep silence; only blue flies darted buzzing through the sunshine, and from high in the heavens sounded often the shrill cries of soaring falcons, which with outspread pinions circled over their heads.
They had now mounted so high that far away over the small island they could see, on three sides, beneath and around them, the blue sea appear.
And the sea encircled the blooming island with its dark steel-blue arm, like a mail-clad hero a blooming women.
But from the far west drew near a white sail.
At last they had reached the height. Thoril stood above, hard by the waterfall, where scarcely could a pair of human feet find standing room upon the wet slippery crumbling stone.
Beneath him, some five feet lower, Halfred halted, and looked towards him. "Give me to drink, I am parched with thirst," he cried to him.
And Thoril drew from his fishing pouch a curved, silvery shining, mother of pearl shell. He raised himself on tiptoe, filled the shell to the brim, and turned to reach it down to Halfred. Then his foot slipped on the polished stone, vainly he tried to save himself, spreading out his arms on the bare rock wall. Halfred saw him falling downwards, straight upon himself, and opened wide his strong arms to receive the light burden. But lo!--a miracle. In the rapid fall the buckle broke which fastened over the breast Thoril's white linen garment; wide outspreading, down over the shoulders, fell the garment; at the same moment fell the net which confined the golden hair--a rich flood of waving tresses spread themselves over the shining neck and swelling breast.
"A woman art thou? a maiden?" shouted Halfred exultingly. "Thanks to ye, O stars. Yes; this is Love's fullness."
And the beautiful maiden hid her glowing cheeks in Halfred's neck.
With a few strides he bore his light burden down to the grotto they had passed in climbing, and bending the branches of the rose bushes aside placed her safely within its shelter. The nightingale, which there sat singing on her nest, flew only to a short distance; and then returned and sang and warbled unceasingly. And the bees flew humming among the wild roses.
And when the crimson glow of the evening sun shone over the island Halfred and Thoril descended the cliff. And now the girl's face was infinitely more beautiful than of yore. She wore her hair no longer in the net, but waving freely, so that like a mantle spun of threads of sunny gold it covered her from her throat to her knees. And instead of the lost buckle a small spray of the thorn bush, with a full blown rose, fastened her garment over the breast.
Thus, hand in hand, they descended to the lake, and then Thora took from the boat her three-sided harp, and thus they wandered down by the streamlet which flowed from the lake to the sea, and on to the bay, towards the west.
And the ship, which from the west had held her course towards the island, was the Singing Swan.
There, at a short distance, she now lay at anchor in the bay; her sails shining brightly in the evening light. And the ship's boat glided over the water towards the shore, to bring Halfred and the smaller boat, rowed by Hartvik and Eigil.
And the blood brethren sprang on shore, and marvelled greatly, when they saw Halfred stand there, hand in hand with a wonderfully beautiful woman. Silently their glances questioned him.
But Halfred spoke, twining his arms round the slender girl--
"This is Thora the golden-eyed. King Thorul's daughter.
"She was hidden from me here, and clad in boy's clothing that I might not find her.
"Nevertheless I have found her, according to the course of the stars and the will of the Gods--Love her as myself--for she is my wife."