And now it was very wonderful to see what a wholly different man Halfred had became since he had won Thora.
He threw off his tattered clothing, and clad himself in the most costly royal raiment of scarlet and rich gold, which lay stored away as a special treasure among the spoils of the Singing Swan.
He quaffed the sparkling Chios wine from a silver cup, and eagerly pledged Thora in Freya's love.
He played often upon her harp, and sang new songs far more beautiful and ardent, and moving according to a melody which he invented, and called "Thora's melody."
And his youth seemed to be given back to him, for the deep furrows vanished from his forehead, his eyes, which had always been cast down, as though he revolved the past, or his own thoughts, now looked brightly upwards again, and around his lips again played joyously the smile of Oski.
And he stirred not night or day from his young wife's side; and was never weary of stroking her long golden hair, or looking deep into her golden joyfully glistening eyes.
But in the night he often held her high aloft in his arms, and silently showed her to the silent stars.
And he had himself seized the helm, to turn the Singing Swan towards the south, for he said, "Thora shall see the islands of the blest, in the blue Grecian waters, where marble statues, white and slender as herself, look out from among evergreen laurels."
And the flame marks on the Swan's wings were effaced, and mast and spars must always be wreathed with flowers, for Thora loved flowers.
But the young wife had eyes for Halfred alone. She spoke but few words; but with sweet smiles she often whispered--
"Yes, verily, thou art the Son of Heaven. Mortal men, such as I have often seen in my father's hall, could never be at once so strong and so gentle. Thou art like the sea a furious irresistible God, and withal a lovely dreaming child."
And when she glided across the ship, all in snow white garments, and with her golden flowing hair, the men on the rowing benches sat with oars suspended, and Hartvik, at the helm, forgot to guide the ship's course, and followed her steps with wondering eyes.
And when they drew near to land, and the people saw her hovering on the wings of the Singing Swan--where she loved to stand--they brought offerings of flowers, for they believed that Frigg, or Freya, had sailed in to visit them.
And Halfred told me that she grew more beautiful from day to day.
And in this wise passed four times seven nights.
And Halfred was so infatuated and absorbed in Thora, that he did not in the least observe what was brewing among the sailors, or how his blood brethren, who held themselves aloof from him, whispered together.
He heard once, as he remembered afterwards that Hartvik whispered to Eigil, "No I tell thee. He will never do it himself, or by free will. Therefore the physician must by force burn out the wound from the sufferer."
He neither noticed nor understood these words. But soon afterwards he understood them.
One clear moonlight night Halfred and Thora had already sought their couch in their chamber between the decks, from whence a small gangway and flight of steps led upwards, and Thora had fallen asleep. Ere Halfred fell asleep however, it seemed to him as though he detected that the Singing Swan was, very slowly certainly, but perceptibly turning. She groaned, as though resisting the pressure of the helm; and he thought that he heard, through the open gangway, the sound of many steps upon the deck, and of whispering voices, and now and again of weapons clashing.
Instinctively he glanced towards the head of the couch; where his hammer hung, guarding his bride's pillow. The loop was empty. The hammer was missing.
Quickly, but lightly, so as not to wake the sleeper, he sprang up the narrow stairs. He was just in time. Hartvik and Eigil were in the act to close the small trap door, which fastened over the gangway with a bolt, and thus confine the pair between decks. There, now, stood Halfred, his right foot on the deck, his left on the highest step. Hartvik and Eigil started up, and drew back a pace. Hartvik was leaning upon Halfred's hammer. The ship's crew stood armed in a half circle behind him. The helm also was surrounded by armed men, and had been turned. The ship no longer sailed towards the south-east, but held west north-west, and the sails were half-reefed.
"What do ye here my blood brethren?" said Halfred, softly--for he thought of Thora--and was more amazed than angry. "Are ye mad, or have ye grown faithless."
For a while all were silent, startled at Halfred's sudden appearance, whom they had believed to be sleeping soundly by Thora's side. But Hartvik recovered and spoke--
"It is not we who are mad, or have grown faithless, but thou, our unhappy brother, under magic spell. We would have accomplished what must be done without it being possible for thee to hinder it. Thou shouldst only have trodden the deck again, when, against thine own will, thou wert restored to health.
"Now, however, since thou hast too soon learnt this, hear what we, thy blood brethren and the most of those on board, assembled in ship's council, last night resolved--resolved for thy weal, although many opposed it, and would first have spoken with thee. Submit thyself peaceably, for it is unalterable as the course of the stars, and although thou art very strong, Halfred Hamundson, bethink thee, thou art weaponless, and we are seventy."
Halfred was silent. Fearfully swelled his temple veins; but he thought of Thora. "She sleeps," he whispered. "Say softly what ye have to say. I listen."
"Halfred, our dear blood brother," continued Hartvik softly. "Thou liest spell bound in the toils of a woman who--I will verily not revile her, for I love her more ardently than my own heart's blood--whatever she may be, a mortal woman undoubtedly is not.
"Here works one of the strongest spells which ever witchcraft wove, and ever befooled the senses of men.
"I blame her not as do many of our comrades.
"She can do no otherwise. This is her very nature.
"She is in truth an Elfin woman, or what the Irish call their white half Goddesses.
"In the old Sagas it is told that there are such magic women, who, whether they will or not, wherever they come, bewitch the eyes and hearts of all men. In Herjadal lived such an one, seventy years ago, and there was no peace in the land until they had hung a mill stone about her neck, and sunk her where the Fjord is deepest.
"That this woman is no mortal woman can any one see who only looks once in her white face, through which all the veins shine blue, and in the selfish glittering golden eyes. This alone were enough, without that which many among us have seen; how, lately, when the moon was full, she rose unperceived from thy side, and floated up upon deck and with closed eyes danced up and down upon the slightest wing feathers of the Singing Swan, like an elf in the moon rays. And when the moon went behind a cloud she glided just as lightly down to thee.
"But this is the smallest part of her magic.
"Not thee alone has her beauty ensnared. She hath so crazed all the ship's crew that they forget work and duty to gaze after her as she floats along.
"Yes, even among us, blood friends, hath she kindled frightful sinister thoughts against thee, and against each other. I, who care not for women, and Eigil, who never thought of any woman save my burnt sister, we have lately by night confessed to each other that this silent white elf woman hath so fearfully crazed our senses, that each of us has already wished thy death, yes, would even have contrived it, in order to win this golden haired enchantress.
"And when we confessed these same thoughts to each other, we were filled with shame.
"Yet nevertheless each of us has plotted the death of the other.
"There must be an end of this.
"This slender sorceress shall not make men murderers in their thoughts, who have stood together through fire and blood.
"We will not throw her overboard, as many of the crew in superstitious terror advise. Where would be the use? She would swim like a sea bird on the tops of the waves. But we will bear her back to the lonely island, where no eye of man can see her, and where no doubt wise gods had banished her. We would all possess her, and none shall have what each covets."
Frightfully throbbed the veins in Halfred's temples, in his rage. "The first," he said, quite softly, through his gnashing teeth, "the first who lifts a hand, ay even a look towards her, I will tear his false heart from his living body."
And so frightfully threatening was his face to behold that Hartvik and all the armed men drew back a couple of paces.
But Eigil stepped forward again, and spoke in a louder voice than Hartvik had used.
"Halfred, give way. We have sworn it. We will compel thee."
"Ye compel me!" cried Halfred, also now in a louder voice. "Murder and revolt on board the Singing Swan! What saith the Viking code? Like a dog shall he hang by the neck at the mast head who secretly stirs up disobedience to the ship's lord."
"To the ship's lord, yes, when madness crazes him not," shouted Eigil again.
"Darest thou to speak of rights, Halfred Hamundson?
"Only because madness and magic excuse thee, have we not long since asserted our rights against thee: thou, who every word and bond of right hast broken. We demand our rights. But thou hast no right to that woman.
"Hast thou forgotten, Perjurer, that bloodstained midsummer night on Hamunds Fjord? Of that, in truth, thou hast not spoken, since, like a love sick boy, thou hast doted on this slender sorceress.
"Thou hast forgotten it, but the seamen who sail by yonder spot, they see with horror the huge black Heckla Stone which there hides an awful catastrophe, and covers a fearful curse. But huge and heavy as it is, it cannot bury it. Demanding vengeance the shades of many thousand dead arise, who lie there, through thy crime, and with whom thou hast broken faith and oath.
"For how did'st thou swear in that night?
"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 on 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."
"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 on 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."
"But thou carest no more for Gods or men, no more for us thy blood-brethren, who stood by thee to the death; who kept faith with thee against our own kindred; who defended thy head against King Hartstein's sword when thou layest defenceless as a child upon our knees; who for thee have slain our nearest kindred; for thee have given up sister and beloved.
"Her also, whose voluptuous lips have kissed forgetfulness upon thy forehead, even her also has thy selfishness forgotten; for thou wilt bring destruction upon her, as surely as the Gods hear curses, and chastise perjury.
"Doubtless thou hast never told the white armed enchantress what a fearful curse thou, with each kiss, art drawing down nearer and nearer upon her head."
"Silence, Raven," cried Halfred, threateningly, paling with rage and dread.
But Eigil continued, "Who knows if the golden eyes would not turn shuddering from thee did she know that upon thy head rests the curse of the wedded wife, burned through thee--of thy unborn murdered son. And thou hast exposed her as well as thyself to the fearful sentence--it will be fulfilled, for unerring is such deadly hate:
"'Cursed be thy proud thoughts--Madness shall strike them;"'Cursed be thy false eyes--Blindness shall smite them;"'Cursed be thy lying lips--They shall wither and smile no more;"'Yet a twofold curse shall rend thee both, if thou winnest again a woman's love."'In madness and disease shall she perish whom thou lovest more than thy soul.'"
"'Cursed be thy proud thoughts--Madness shall strike them;
"'Cursed be thy false eyes--Blindness shall smite them;
"'Cursed be thy lying lips--They shall wither and smile no more;
"'Yet a twofold curse shall rend thee both, if thou winnest again a woman's love.
"'In madness and disease shall she perish whom thou lovest more than thy soul.'"
Here sounded a faint soul-harrowing moan from the open gangway.
"Thou here!" cried Eigil, and paused.
Halfred turned. There behind him stood Thora, not white as in general, but with crimson glowing head, like a poppy, her eyes gazing wildly upwards towards the moon and stars. Suddenly she uplifted both arms on high, as though to avert from Halfred's head some fearful stroke from the clouds. Then, once more, a faint but heart piercing moan, and she fell forwards upon her face, like a crushed flower. Blood flowed from her mouth. Halfred would have quickly raised her, but lifeless lay the slight form on his arms.
"Dead," cried Halfred, "murdered! And ye have murdered her!"
He let slip the ice-cold form, wrenched with one tremendous spring forwards his hammer from Hartvik, and swinging it on high, with one stroke of his arm brought it crashing down upon the heads of both his blood-brethren, so that brains, blood, and fragments of skulls were scattered all around.
With that deed began a slaughter on board the Singing Swan like that of the midsummer night; only it was much shorter, because there were fewer to slay.
It seemed to Halfred as though his temple veins had burst. He felt, instead of brains, only boiling blood in his head; he tasted blood in his mouth, he saw only red blood before his eyes. Without choosing, without asking who was for or against him, he sprang into the thickest of the crowd of armed men, seized man after man by the throat with his left hand, and shattered their skulls with the broad side of his hammer.
He did not in the least perceive that a handful of men stood by him. He did not notice the many wounds he received on arms, face, and hands, in close combat with his despairing foes. He raged on and slew, until all whom he could see before him lay dead and silent upon the deck. Then he turned, still brandishing his hammer, and shouted--
"Who besides Halfred still breathes on this accursed ship?"
Then he saw that some six men of those who had aided him kneeled behind him. They had formed, with their shields, a half circle round Thora's body, and had turned off many a spear which would have reached the form of the white sorceress. Halfred perceived this.
"Stand up," he said, with his left arm wiping away the blood and sweat from his forehead, and the white foam from his lips.
He thrust the blood stained hammer into his belt, and kneeled beside Thora, pillowing on his breast her face, which had become whiter than ever before.
"It was too much to bear and to hear at once. The frightful hailstones of this curse have struck the white rose too heavily."
Then she opened her eyes, and murmured, "Not for me, only for thee, have the horrors of this curse overwhelmed me."
"She lives! she lives! Praise to you, ye gracious Gods," exulted Halfred, "It could not be that she should die for the crimes of others. She must be healed, as surely as the Gods live. Had Thora perished for mine, for other men's guilt; with this hammer must I have slain all the Gods."
And tenderly and softly, as a mother a sick child, the mighty man raised his young wife in both arms, and bore her, treading softly, down the steps.
But once more before she left the deck, Thora opened her eyes. She saw Halfred stained all over with blood. She recognised, by their armour and clothing, the bodies of Hartvik and Eigil, with frightfully shattered heads. She saw the whole deck strewn with dead. She saw that only very few of the ship's crew were left, and shuddering, shrinking, she closed her eyes again.
But Halfred kneeled day and night beside her couch. He held her languid hand; he listened to her faint breathing; he kissed from her lips the small drops of blood which often gathered there.
He had the board which closed the gangway between the decks taken away, and heaven and the stars shone down upon Thora's pillow.
When the day had gone ill, and much blood had flowed, and she fell asleep with the falling night, then he would mount a few steps, draw his hammer from his belt, and threaten the stars with furious words.
"If ye let her die for others' guilt, then woe to you, ye Gods, woe to all who live."
But had the sufferer gained strength, and smiled lovingly and peacefully on him; then this same ferocious man mounted upon the deck, kneeled down, and cried with outstretched arms, and tear-choked voice,
"Praise, praise, to you, ye gracious Gods! I knew it, verily, that ye live and rule justly, and would not let her die for others' guilt."
And if the day wavered between good and evil, between fear and hope, then he paced the narrow chamber with hasty steps and murmured inaudibly,
"Are there Gods! are there Gods! are there gracious Gods?"
And he believed that Thora heard this not, because she slept.
But she lay often awake, with closed eyes, and understood it all, and it troubled her sorely, in waking and dreaming.
And Halfred now told her, at her mute request, all about Dame Harthild, and the curse, and how all had happened.
When he had ended she murmured shuddering, "Much has been fulfilled! If yet more should be fulfilled, unhappy Halfred."
It seemed, however, that Thora was better.
And Halfred resolved at once to carry her upon deck, that she might breathe the fresh air, and again behold the beauty of sea and heaven.
And he had the deck carefully cleansed from all traces of the horrible fight, and ordered the sailors, the day before, to run into a coast which was bright with summer flowers, and commanded a whole mountain of flowers, as he said, to be piled upon the ship, for he would have her laid upon a hill of flowers.
And the men obeyed; and the whole deck was so thickly strewn with flowers that nowhere was a bit of wood visible.
And close by the mast rose a swelling couch of perfumed light wood-grass, and all the loveliest wood flowers, so high that it reached to Halfred's breast.
Over this he spread a rich white linen mantle, and laid the heavily breathing form upon it.
And again the moon was full, as on that night of the battle on the ship. But many storm-rent clouds were still driving across the heavens, and the sailing disk of the moon had not pierced through them.
And it was midsummer night. The first that Halfred had not spent by the black Heckla Stone in Iceland.
Thora had fallen asleep upon her flowers.
Halfred had covered her with his own mantle. And he sat close by the flower hill, and looked into the noble, pale, all bloodless face, and then quietly before him again.
"Ye have done all things well, ye merciful dwellers in the stars above. Ye have requited me, for that I never altogether doubted ye. I will not again question with ye, wherefore ye have ordained for me this second fearful thing, that I should be forced to slay my dear blood-brethren, and so many of the ship's crew.
"Because ye have saved this wonderful flower, and have not suffered her guiltless, to perish for other's guilt, for ever will I bless ye.
"And a song of praise will I compose for you, ye merciful and gracious Gods; such as never yet has resounded to your praise. Thanks to you, ye gracious Gods!"
And thus musing he fell asleep; for it was many many nights since he had slept.
Then a piercing cry awoke him, which seemed to ring from the stars. "Halfred." It fell upon his ear from high above.
He started up from slumber, and looked upwards. There he saw what filled him with horror. The full moon had, while he slept, pierced the clouds, and shone with full radiance upon Thora's face. Now Halfred saw her, standing swaying, high on the slender cross-spars, many many feet above his head.
Like a white ghost she shone in the moonlight; her widely opened eyes looked out into her future; her right hand she stretched, as though warding off, into the night. She did not hold fast by the slender towering mast, on whose giddying height naught else save the seabird, tossing, rested. And yet she stood firmly erect; but in her face was despairing woe.
"O Halfred," she wailed, in a low tone of heart-rending anguish, "O Halfred--how distracted thy looks--how fearfully tangled hair and beard! Ah! how thine eye rolls--and half naked--like a Berseker, in shaggy wolf's skin. And how stained thou art with the blood of guiltless men. And why threatenest thou the fair-haired shepherd the light-hearted boy? Beware--beware the sling--guard thyself--turn thy head--the swing whistles--the stone flies--O Halfred--thine eye." And bending far forward she stretched, as though she would protect, both arms into the air. Now she must fall--so it seemed.
"Fall not, Thora!" cried Halfred upwards.
Then, as though lightning struck, swift as an arrow, with a wild shriek, she fell downwards from the giddy height of the mast.
The white forehead struck upon the deck, her head and golden hair were bathed in blood.
"Thora! Thora!" cried Halfred, and raised her up, and looked into her eyes. Then he fell senseless with her upon his face among the flowers--for she was dead.
When Halfred raised himself again--he had already long since recovered consciousness, but not the power to rise--the sun was fast going down.
He called the six seamen, who had held themselves shyly aloof in the stern and lower deck, and spoke, but his voice, he himself told me, sounded strange to him like that of another person.
"She is dead. Slain for the sins of others.
"There are no Gods.
"Were there Gods I must have dashed out the brains of all of them, one by one, with this hammer.
"The whole world, heaven and sea, and hell, I must have burned with consuming fire.
"Nothing should any longer be, since Thora no longer is.
"The world can I not destroy.
"But the ships, and all that is upon it, I will burn--a great funereal pile for Thora.
"Do as I say to ye."
And he embedded with gentle hands, the dead Thora in the flower mound, so that almost nothing of her form and clothing were to be seen.
And by his orders the six men were obliged to bring upon deck all the weapons, treasures, clothing, and provisions, which were stored in the hold of the Singing Swan.
And Halfred heaped them around the mast upon the flower mound, and purple clothing, linen cloth, silken stuff, golden vessels, and soft cushions, he piled up all round about.
Then he poured ship's tar over all, and covered it with withered brushwood, and dry chips from the kitchen.
And he ordered all sail to be set--a strong warm south wind was blowing--
Then he mounted upon the upper deck, and overlooked all.
And he nodded his head, well satisfied. And then he descended to the kitchen, to bring up a burning brand.
When he came up again he found that the sailors had lowered the two ship's boats, the larger and the smaller boat, they lay tossing by the boat ropes, to the right and left of the Singing Swan.
"Hasten, my lord," cried one of the seamen to him; "so soon as thou hast thrown the torch, to spring into a boat; for rapidly, in this gale, will the Singing Swan flame up, and easily might the fire seize the boats, and cause both thee and all of us to perish."
Halfred looked with staring eyes at the man "Would ye still live, after ye have seen this?
"Think ye that I will live without Thora? after the guiltless for other's,--for my crime,--hath died?
"No, with me shall ye all on this ship burn--truly a worthless funeral pile for Thora."
"Thou shalt not destroy us, guiltless. Forbid it, Gods!" cried the man, and sprang upon Halfred, to wrest the firebrand from him.
But with a fearful blow of his fist Halfred struck him down upon the deck.
Laughing shrilly, he shouted, "Gods! Who dare still to believe in Gods, when Thora, guiltless, has died?
"There are no Gods, I tell ye.
"Were there Gods, I must have slain them all.
"And I will slay, as my deadly enemy, whosoever declares that he still believes in Gods."
Furiously he brandished the firebrand in his left hand, the hammer in his right, and cried to the trembling sailors--
"Choose--If ye believe that there are Gods, then I will strike ye down like this too forward comrade.
"But if ye renounce the Gods, then may ye live, and depart, and bear witness everywhere that there are no Gods.
"Are there Gods?" shouted the maniac, drawing near to the trembling men.
"No, my lord; there are no Gods," cried the men, and fell upon their knees.
"Then go--and leave me alone to my own will."
Quickly the seamen descended into the larger boat on the left.
Halfred, however, stuck the hammer in his belt, and strode with rapid steps hither and thither upon the deck, and set fire to mast and sail, and purple clothing and carved work, and to the neck of the Swan on the prow-wailing, the wind passed once more through the curved wings of the Swan.
The strong south wind fanned the crackling flames; quickly was the ship, on all sides, wrapped in a glowing blaze. The sails streamed like fiery wings from the mast.
Silently, with folded arms, Halfred sat upon the upper deck, his eyes rigidly fixed upon the flower mound.
Swift as an arrow flew the burning ship before the wind. The fire had rapidly consumed the dried wood grass, and Thora's form and face were fully visible. Then Halfred saw how the scorching flames seized upon Thora's long floating golden hair. "That was the last thing," he said to me, "that I saw for a long time."
In unutterable anguish he sprang up, and rushed all along the burning ship, straight through the flames, to Thora, He sprang upon the flower mound to embrace the body.
Then he felt a frightful blow upon his head, and left eye. The half burned mast had fallen with a crash upon him; he was dashed upon his face among the flowers and the flames, and darkness closed over him.
When Halfred again awoke he lay in the bottom of a small boat, which drove over the open sea.
His hammer lay at his right hand. A cruise of water stood at his left hand. Two oars were in the stem of the boat.
Halfred started up to look around him.
Then he perceived that he could only see with difficulty what was on his left side. He felt for his left eye, and found a bleeding cavity. A splinter of the mast had struck it out, and a stabbing pain beat through his brain, which he said never again left him as long as he lived.
He looked at his body. In charred rags his burnt clothing hung upon him. Far in the distance he saw a craft which he recognized as the larger boat of the Singing Swan.
The Singing Swan herself had disappeared; but away to the south there lay a cloud of vapour and smoke over the sea.
The boat in which Halfred stood he recognised as the smaller boat of the Singing Swan. Evidently his sailing comrades had dragged the half-burned maniac from the burning ship, and saved him.
They had abandoned him to the Gods whom he had blasphemed, and in whom they believed, to be saved by them, or perish. But no more fellowship would they have with a man stricken by the heaviest of curses--madness.
For mad Halfred was, from the hour when he sprang into the flames, and the mast struck him, until shortly before his death.
Therefore could he only tell me very little of all that in the meantime happened either to, or through him.
But what he did tell me, here I faithfully write down.
But many many years must he have wandered in madness.
He told me, moreover, that he saw only before his eyes how Thora fell from the mast; and how the flames seized her head and hair. And that he could only think one single thought. "There are no Gods. Were there Gods I must have slain them.
"So must I slay all human beings who believe in Gods; for blotted out from the earth shall be the name and remembrance of the Gods."
And he could not die until he had slain the last man who still believed in the Gods.
And thus he journeyed all about, everywhere, in his small ship; landed in bays and upon islands, lived upon game which he hunted, or upon domestic animals which he found in the fields, upon roots and wild berries from the woods, upon eggs of sea-birds, and mussels from the rocks.
And often the storm waves broke high over his boat, and shattered her planks. But she sank not, nor was he drowned.
And one day he saw he was wholly naked, the last charred rags had fallen from him. He was chilled, and when he met a wolf in the wood, he ran after him so long that he overtook him, slew him with his hammer, took off his skin, and hung it round his loins.
And thus he roamed and sailed, half naked, all about the north. And none recognised in the maniac Berseker, Halfred Sigskald, the son of Oski.
And he told me that when he chanced upon mankind, whither they were many or few, he sprang upon them, and shouted to them his question.
"Are there Gods?"
And if they said "Yes," or as the most did, gave him no answer, then he slew them all with his hammer. But if they said "No," as also many did--for it was already rumoured throughout the whole north, that a naked giant wandered through all lands with this question, whom the people called "God destroyer"--or if they took to flight, then he let them live.
And often, from dread, the peasants and the women gave him fruit, bread, milk, and other food. Many however bound themselves in a league to go out and slay him, as a wild beast. But they could not stand before the fury and strength of the maniac. He killed the bold, the timorous fled.
He slept hardly at all at night, therefore they could not surprise him in his sleep.
Once, when he spent the night in the bam of a peasant, who had previously renounced the Gods, with all his household, the people from the court barricaded the straw-filled bam, and set fire to it. But Halfred burst through the roof, dashed through the flames and arrows, which could not pierce his body, and slew them all with his hammer.
And this maniac wandering endured many years.
And sea storms, and burning suns, and autumn frosts, and winter ice, beat upon Halfred's half-naked body.
And his hair and beard stood out like a mane around him.
But no longer dark, as when of yore he trod, as a wooer. King Harstein's courts--but snow white. In a single night--the night when Thora died--his hair had become white.
And after many years he came sailing in his rotten boat over the seas which play around the island of Caledonia. He landed, seized his hammer, and strode upwards to a steep rocky hill, on which sheep and goats were grazing.
It was early morning, in the time when roses begin to bloom.
Mist floated over the sea, and upon the cliffs.
Then Halfred saw the shepherd standing above, on the cliff's edge; and he played a lovely melody upon his shepherd's pipe.
And at first he doubted whether he should ask this shepherd boy his question about the Gods, for he left women and boys unquestioned. And this shepherd seemed to him but a boy.
But as he climbed nearer to him he saw that the shepherd carried a spear, and a shepherd's sling, with which to kill wolves.
And the shepherd lad believed that this was a robber or a Berseker coming against him and his sheep.
And he chose out of his leather pouch a sharp heavy stone, and laid it in his sling, and held it ready to cast it.
Halfred held his left hand over the eye that remained to him, and looked upward with difficulty, dazzled, for just then the sun broke out through the mist clouds exactly above the head of the shepherd, who thus saw clearly the figure of the half naked man, with tangled floating hair and beard, who now raising the hammer threateningly ascended the hill. Upon a slab of stone, under a great ash tree, he stopped, and cried to the shepherd--
"Are there Gods, shepherd boy? Sayest thou yes, then thou must die."
"Gods, there are not," replied the shepherd, in a clear voice, "but wise men have taught me there lives one Almighty Triune God, Creator of Heaven and Earth."
The man with the hammer paused for a moment as if meditating.
Such an answer had he never received.
Soon, however, he sprang threateningly upwards again.
Preventing him, however, the shepherd swung his sling; whirring flew the sharp stone; it was a sharp hard three-edged flint stone--I had carefully reserved it for some great peril--and alas! alas--woe is me, only too truly did it strike. Without a sound Halfred fell, where he stood, on his back under the ash tree, himself like to a suddenly felled tree.
With a few bounds the shepherd reached the prostrate form, cautiously holding his spear before him, lest the enemy should suddenly spring up again. For it might be that he only artfully feigned to be wounded.
As he drew nearer, however, he saw that it was no deceit, but rather evident truth.
Blood streamed over the fallen man's right cheek, and in the cavity of the right eye stuck the sharp flint stone.
But pity mingled with dread seized upon the shepherd, as he gazed in the fearful mighty face of the man who lay mute at his feet. Never before had he seen so splendid a face; at once so noble, and so sad.
And superstitious fear overcame him, if it might not be the chief of the heathen gods, Odhin, the one-eyed, who in the semblance of this wanderer with the white beard had appeared to him.
But soon he felt yet deeper sympathy and compassion, for the wounded man in a weak voice began:--
"Whosoever thou mayest be, who hast cast this stone, receive the thanks, O shepherd boy, of a world and woe weary man. Thou hast taken from me the light of the second eye also. I need no longer to see men-kind and the heavens. Neither of them have I understood for a long time. And soon shall I pass to where questions are no more asked, and curses no more cursed. I thank thee, whosoever thou mayest be. Thou hast of all living beings--save one--done the best for Halfred Hamundson."
Then with a loud cry I threw my spear on one side, fell upon my knees, embraced the pale bleeding head, and cried:--
"Halfred, Halfred, my father, forgive, forgive me!--I am the murderer-- and thy son--"
Now ye who shall one day unroll this parchment--pause at this place, and look upwards to the sun, if it is day, and to the stars, if it is night, and ask with Halfred--"Are there Gods?"
For I, I, who secretly and in dread write these pages during the night hours, I am the shepherd boy, Halfred's son, who have slain him.
And the Gods, or the Christian God, have allowed it to come to pass that the son has blinded and murdered the father.
I wept hot tears upon my dear father's pale forehead. But he turned his head, as though he would see me, and said--
"It is hard that the curse must be so wholly fulfilled upon me, that I must be entirely blinded before death.
"Fain would I have looked closely into thy face, my dear son.
"Now I know not if the golden cloud I saw spread about thy head was thy hair or the sun rays.
"Thou seemedst to me fair to look upon, my boy.
"But tell me, how do they call thee?
"Have they verily, at thy birth, named thee Liarson Scoundrelson Harthildsvengeance? and how did it happen that thou camest into life. I believed Dame Harthild burned in the dwelling house."
Then I laid my dear father's head upon my knees, and dried with the long yellow hair I was at that time still allowed to wear, the blood from his cheek, and told him all.
How my mother would not be carried from the burning Mead hall back into the dwelling house, but rather on to one of the ships of her father.
How from thence, when the battle and the flames threatened dwelling house and ships, she was borne by her women and the sailors into a boat, and therein rowed out upon the Fjord.
How in the boat she had forthwith given birth to a son, but died herself; and ere she died had laid her hand upon my head, and said--
"Not Liarson--not Scoundrelson--not Harthildsvengeance shall he be named--no; Fridgifa Sigskaldson."6
"She was right in that," said Halfred. "Thou hast aided the Sigskald to peace at last."
And how after she was dead the fearful battle and burning on shore scared the sailors and women still further out to sea.
And how the small boat was almost sunk by the fury of a storm from the west, and all the bondmen and women were washed overboard by the waves, save one rower, and a bond maiden, who hid the infant under the stern seat.
And how, at last, Christian priests, who were sailing out to convert the heathen people, picked up the half starved wanderers, and brought all three hither, to the island of the holy Columban; and cleansed both the two, and the infant, with the water of baptism.
And how the two, my foster parents, told me all that they knew about my father, and mother, up to the time of the burning of the Mead hall.
And how the two were never weary of lauding to me my father's glory in battle and song.
And how the monks of Saint Columban, as I grew, would have me taught to read and write; but I loved far better to go out with the hunters and shepherds of the monastery, and liked to draw targets on the parchment leaves for my little cross-bow.
And how, at length, they declared me unfit for books, when with my small bolt I had pierced through and through a costly picture which on the gold ground of a thumb broad margin represented the whole of the Passion, and promoted me with a sound thrashing to be herd boy of the monastery.
And how for many years, since my foster parents were dead, I had kept the sheep of the monastery; and my sole pleasure therein had been in fighting with the bears, the wolves, and the eagles, that attacked the lambs.
Or in playing upon my shepherd's pipe, or in listening to the roar of the sea and the forest.
And Halfred laid my head upon his broad breast, and folded both his arms around it, and laid his hand upon it, and was still and silent for a long time.
And I brought him water to drink from the fountain, and milk from my flock; and would have drawn the stone from the wound, but he said--
"Leave it, my dear son--the end draws near.
"But I feel the band taken away from my brain, which for many many years has pressed upon it.
"And all becomes clear and bright to my thoughts. I can see inwardly again how all has been, now that I can no longer see outward things.
"And for thee, and for myself, before I die, I will set forth clearly and exactly how all has been. Give me once again milk from thy flock to drink."
And I gave him to drink, and he laid his head again upon my knee, and began to tell me, quite clearly and distinctly, all that had come to pass since that midsummer night.
And from his lips have I learned all, onward from that midsummer night, which in the earlier pages of this book I have written out. And much have I also learned from him, of those earlier times of which my foster parents could know nothing.
And I have kept it all in faithful remembrance.
And as the evening fell he came to the end of his account, and he said,
"Lay my face so that once more the sun shall shine upon it. Fain would I feel the dear Lord once again."
And I did as he commanded.
And he breathed deeply, and said:
"It must certainly be spring. A perfume of wild roses floats to me."
And I told him that he lay under a blooming rose-bush.
And then a blackbird raised his sweet song from the bush.
"Thus I hear once more the blackbird's evening song," said Halfred.
"Now farewell all. Sun and sea, forest and stars of heaven, wild rose perfume, and songs of birds; and farewell to thee, my dear son. I thank thee that thou hast released me from madness, and an evil life.
"I can, to requite thee, as all my heritage, leave thee only this hammer. Guard it faithfully.
"Whether there be Gods--I know not. Methinks that men can never search it out. But I tell thee, my son, whether Gods live or not, hammer throwing, and harp playing, and sunshine, and the kiss of woman, these are the rewards of life.
"Mayest thou win a wife who is but a faint reflection of Thora.
"Then hail to thee, my son!
"Bury me here, where mingles the roar of the forest and the sea.
"Farewell my dear son. Dame Harthild's curse thou hast turned for me into a blessing."
And he died.
The blackbird ceased singing in the bush. And as the sun sank, one warm full flood of his rays streamed full upon that mighty face.
Thus died the son of Oski.