{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45107/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45107","id":"gutenberg_45107","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45107","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Sagas -- Adaptations"],"text":"FREY AND HIS WIFE\n\n\n\n\nTHE NOVELS OF MAURICE HEWLETT.\n\n\nTHE FOREST LOVERS.\nA LOVERS' TALE.\nTHE QUEEN'S QUAIR.\nLITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.\nRICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.\nTHE STOOPING LADY.\nFOND ADVENTURES.\nNEW CANTERBURY TALES.\nHALFWAY HOUSE.\nOPEN COUNTRY.\nREST HARROW.\nBRAZENHEAD THE GROUT.\nTHE FOOL ERRANT.\nSPANISH JADE.\n\n\n[Illustration: \"Gunnar gave her the cloak, and she cast it over Frey's\nshoulder, ... while she whispered to him what it was.\" (Page 126.)\n\n_Frey and his Wife_] [_Frontispiece_ ]\n\n\n\n\nFREY AND HIS WIFE\n\nBY\n\nMAURICE HEWLETT\n\n_Author of \"The Forest Lovers,\" etc._\n\nWARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED\nLONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO\n1917\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nCHAP.                                               PAGE\n    I WHO AND WHAT WAS OGMUND RAVENSSON,\n      AND WHY CALLED OGMUND DINT                       7\n\n   II HOW OGMUND DINT DID NOTHING, AND PRESENTLY\n      SAILED HOME TO THWARTWATER; AND WHAT\n      BATTLE-GLUM THOUGHT ABOUT IT ALL                25\n\n  III OF KING OLAF TRYGVASSON; AND OF SIGURD\n      HELMING AND GUNNAR, HIS BROTHER                 39\n\n   IV OGMUND DINT COMES AGAIN TO NORWAY, AND MEETS\n      GUNNAR ON THE HARD OF DRONTHEIM                 55\n\n    V OGMUND DINT SATISFIES HIMSELF, AND SAILS HOME   67\n\n   VI THE HUE-AND-CRY FOR HALWARD NECK                75\n\n  VII GUNNAR CROSSES THE MOUNTAINS                    87\n\n VIII GUNNAR IN THE FOREST HEARS TELL\n      OF FREY AND HIS WONDERS                         97\n\n   IX GUNNAR MEETS WITH FREY. CONCERNING\n      FREY'S WIFE                                    115\n\n    X TALK BETWEEN GUNNAR AND SIGRID                 129\n\n   XI GUNNAR TURNS FREY ABOUT AGAINST FREY'S WILL    145\n\n  XII THE WINTER FEASTS                              159\n\n XIII FREY MAKES READY TO GO HIS ROUNDS              171\n\n  XIV FREY STARTS ON HIS ROUNDS                      187\n\n   XV THE SNOWSTORM                                  195\n\n  XVI MARRIAGE OF SIGRID                             205\n\n XVII MORROW OF THE STORM                            211\n\nXVIII NEWS OF FREY REACHES NORWAY                    225\n\n  XIX SIGURD IN SWEDEN. THE BATTLE OF THE FORD       233\n\n   XX THE END OF THE TALE                            247\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nWHO AND WHAT WAS OGMUND RAVENSSON, AND WHY CALLED OGMUND DINT\n\n\nIt's hard to tell why men could not get along with Ogmund Ravensson; but\nso it was, and something must be said about it. He was of thrall-origin,\nit is true, for Raven, his father, who became very rich and lived in the\nNorth, in Skaga Firth, had been a thrall. Glum, of Thwartwater, who was\nbetter known as Battle-Glum, had owned him, and had given him his\nfreedom. More than that, he had taken in fostership his son Ogmund, and\nbrought him up with his own son, Wigfus, and made much of him, putting\nhim in a fair way to gain money and renown on his own account. When\nWigfus went out to Norway and took service with Earl Haakon things\nstood better than ever for Ogmund; for Glum was ageing and had no other\nyoung man so much in favour about him. A thrall for your father was not\nthought well of; but it had not so far stood in Ogmund's way with Glum,\nand there must have been more against him than that. Indeed, the tale\nsays that his mother was related by blood to Battle-Glum, and that would\nbe more than enough to cover the taint on his father.\n\nHe grew up to be a fine, broad-shouldered, portly, upstanding man, with\na black beard; he had a large, flexible nose, strong eyebrows, white\nhands. His eyes were somewhat small and near together; grey eyes, and a\ncast in one of them. But what of that? Plenty men have it, and no harm\ndone. Finally, he was a great talker, full of his reasons for or against\na thing. Other men don't like that, I fancy. They don't follow the\nreasoning; and the better it is the less they want it. Here are some of\nthe causes of Ogmund's lack of friends.\n\nBut Battle-Glum, who, as I say, was getting old, was averse from change.\nHe watched him from under bushy white brows, he watched him with quick\neye-blinks, and shut his lips the firmer, men used to think, for fear he\nmight let fly a volley at the man he had bred up from a child. When the\ntime came, and Ogmund desired to see the world, Glum furnished a ship\nfor him and found everything. So it was that Ogmund became a shipman and\nbegan to get on. He made money, and spent money. He had a fine person,\nand knew it very well. He was fond of adorning it. He liked furs, and\ngold-work; he wore a chain round his neck, and a good ring on his\nforefinger. He had as yet no wife in Iceland, but his fancy ran upon a\nyoung woman of good family, of Glum's kindred and, since that was so,\nof the kindred of Earl Haakon, of Norway. In the meantime, he had a\nbondwoman in Norway, and a steading in very good land not far from the\nfirth. She was a pretty and good girl who did her duty by him and his\nhousehold there, and by her children also who were dependent upon Ogmund\nand what Ogmund's whim might be. Her name was Gerda; but she has little\nto do with the tale, which begins here with a voyage made by Ogmund some\nthree years before the coming of King Olaf Trygvasson into Norway.\n\nFor this voyage Ogmund bought a new ship from some men in the North, and\nembarked a great store of merchantable goods which he had from his\nfather Raven, as well as what his own money could furnish him forth. All\nthis he told his foster-father Glum; and then he said, \"I hope that you\nwill take it well in me, Glum, that I ask nothing of you for this\nventure.\"\n\nTo that Glum, blinking hard, replied that there were things which any\nman might ask of another without reproach.\n\n\"But,\" said Ogmund, \"I would venture what I have of my own, so that what\nI win may be my own without cavil.\"\n\n\"That's very fair,\" said Glum; \"and what is it you expect to get out of\nthe voyage?\"\n\nOgmund laughed a little, and spoke lightly. \"Why,\" he said, \"I expect to\nget rather more than I give for everything. That is the trader's way,\nthe chapman's way. If he has a piece of goods that breeds no profit,\noverboard with it. It has not earned its stowage.\"\n\nNow Glum had his lips shut like a trap, and blinked fearfully. \"Ah,\" he\nsaid, \"and fame, and great report, and the lifted hands of men--what of\nthose?\"\n\n\"They are good,\" said Ogmund. \"Of them, too, you may trust me to render\naccount.\"\n\n\"Such accounts,\" said Glum, \"are not to be made in money.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Ogmund. And that was all he did say.\n\nThen Glum looked at him with earnest eyes; and this time he did not\nblink at all. \"Many a man goes abroad,\" he said, \"who is of no greater\npromise than you are, so far as can be seen. Now I have it close at\nheart that in the voyage you make you should rather get honour than\nstore of money. But you may have both, I believe, if you go rightly to\nwork.\"\n\n\"To be sure I can,\" said Ogmund; and soon after this--rather late in\nmidsummer it was--he set out from Thwartwater.\n\n\nThey started in fair weather, with a westerly wind which blew steady and\nstrong. It held them all through the voyage, and when they sighted the\nislands which lie close together in the channel of the Hardanger Firth,\nit was still blowing steadily.\n\nBut it was dusk when they saw the islands, and close upon nightfall\nwhen they were threading the course between them; and the pilot whom\nthey had aboard was strong for bringing up for the night in good\nanchorage, such as they could have where they were, rather than to push\non and try to make the haven in the dark.\n\nOgmund, who was in a hurry, said, there was a moon, and they had a fair\nwind. Who knew how long it would hold? And suppose that in the morning\nit should come off the land, and keep them beating about for a week or\nmore? He was vehemently for going, and he was master of the ship; so\nthey went on in the dark.\n\nThat which happened might have been foreseen, and very likely was so by\nthe pilot. In one of the narrow sounds between the islands there were\nlong ships moored in the fairway. Before they knew it they drove into\none of them amidships, cut her in half and held on their course.\nWhether Ogmund knew it or not--and I suppose he did--that was the way of\nit. The crew of the rammed ship were all in the water and most of them\nwere saved. But none of them were saved by Ogmund's vessel. She ran on\nher way before the wind, and made the haven and was drawn up on to the\nmainland. The pilot had something to say when he had his ship laid up;\nthe crew had something to say. There were not two opinions among them.\nBut Ogmund took a strong line of his own at the time. He said, \"The ship\nlay in the fairway where no ship has business to be. Every man must take\ncare of himself first, but no man has a right to risk his life if, in so\ndoing, he risks the lives of other men. You may take my word for it,\nthose were no seamen on board that vessel. Why, what are we to think of\nmen who berth themselves in the fairway, regardless of traffickers who\ncome and go out of Bergen, so great a town? What of good Icelanders\nfaring on the sea? Are their lives, is their property, of no account at\nall? No, no. We were right and they were wrong; and that is all there is\nto say.\" He went ashore in the morning and made himself busy, disposing\nof his merchandise.\n\n\nNow the long ship which he had sunk was one of a fleet of them which\nsailed under the ensign of Earl Haakon himself. The master of it was a\nman of Iceland called Halward, who had been in Norway for many years, in\nthe service of the Earl, and was a close friend of his. This Halward was\na great man and a strong man; everybody spoke well of him and desired\nhis good opinion.\n\nIn the morning, when he had heard the news, he went to Earl Haakon and\ntold him about it. His men were saved; but his ship and all his gear and\nmerchandise were at the bottom. The Earl was greatly put out, and his\nanger grew as he spoke. \"Who and what sort of land-lice are these men?\nAre they thralls of Iceland upon a first adventure? Are men of worth and\nsubstance to be tossed into the water like frog-spawn? Now, Halward, you\nhave my leave to take your due and pleasure of them. It will be a light\nmatter for you, for you see what sort of cravens they are. Use your wit,\nexercise your hands upon them; I give you a free way with them.\"\n\nHalward thanked the Earl and was for going out then and there to have\nthe law of his assailants; but Wigfus, Battle-Glum's own son, was\nstanding by, and had a word to say. It is very possible that he had an\ninkling whose ship it was that had been sailed so foully; but if he had\nhe kept it to himself, and was content to plead with the Earl that\nthings should go by the law of the land rather than by the power of\nHalward's arm. He urged that Halward should take amends from them, if\nso be that they were willing, as he had no doubt, to submit themselves\nto the judgment of the Earl. \"At least,\" he said, \"let Halward agree to\nthis, that I go myself and find out what men they are, and what sort of\nterms may be made with them, supposing that terms may be made at all.\"\nHalward said nothing in reply to this; but the Earl considered the\nsaying, thought it fair and reasonable, and bade Wigfus see what he\ncould do. But he said also, \"Let these men make no mistake. My plane\nmakes thick shavings.\" By that he meant it to be understood that the\nfines he should lay would be heavy.\n\nWigfus betook himself to the ship where men were busy unloading the\nmerchandise. He soon saw his foster-brother Ogmund, and greeted him\nfairly, asking what news of Iceland and his father. Ogmund reported all\nwell there, and they talked a little about the Thwartwater people. Then\nWigfus opened upon his matter, saying it was going to be awkward, and\nthat Ogmund would have a difficult cause to plead.\n\nOgmund frowned. \"How is it to be difficult?\" he said. \"To my mind it's\nas plain as daylight.\"\n\n\"If you had waited for daylight it had been very much better,\" said\nWigfus, and told him what had been said that morning at the Earl's\ncouncil. Then he spoke strongly about the necessity of laying it all to\nthat lord's judgment; but, \"I will do what I can for you, since you are\nmy foster-brother; and we may not come off so badly after all.\"\n\nBut Ogmund was rather hot, and would not listen to reason. That is the\nway of men not too sure of their footing; they fan their eloquence and\ntake fire from it. He stated his case as he viewed it, and stated it at\nlength, and several times over. And then he said, \"I know this Earl of\nyours so well by common report that I shall be careful to have nothing\nto do with his dooms and judgments. Why!\" and he spread his hands wide,\npalms outwards, \"Why! Look at this, Wigfus, that he says beforehand what\nhe will do to me--with his talk of planing me deep and the like. And if\nI will not lay a case before him where he says nothing, how shall I\nplead at his judgment-seat when, before a word said, he avows what he\nwill do?\" He was very indignant; but by and by he said, \"Mind you, I do\nnot refuse if he speaks me fair, and keeps an open mind. No, no. I am\nnot a hard man, far from it. So much you may tell Earl Haakon--to whom,\nnevertheless, I owe no allegiance; for I am not of his country, but am\nan Icelander, and a well-friended man in those parts.\"\n\nWigfus tossed up his chin. \"Well, you shall do what seems good, and be\nready to meet what befalls you. If Earl Haakon is angry, you will smart\nfor it. You have not a rat's chance with him; and in my opinion you are\ntalking rank nonsense. But have your own way.\"\n\nNow then, Wigfus reports to the Earl that Ogmund will abide his\njudgment--which was not true, and was even notoriously untrue. So said\none of the Earl's men who was there at the time, and Wigfus could not\ndeny him.\n\nThen up and spoke Halward, that mighty man, and spoke quietly as mighty\nmen may. \"I believe that Wigfus speaks untruly, and shall take my own\nway, by your leave, my lord. I did not need a mediator, and can do much\nbetter without him what I have to do.\"\n\nEarl Haakon said, \"Go on, Halward. Do what becomes thee.\"\n\nThen said Wigfus, \"Give me leave, my lord, to say this. I will be the\ndeath of that man who kills Ogmund, my foster-brother, and kinsman--for\nso he is by the mother-side.\"\n\nSaid Halward, \"You talk over-big, Wigfus,\" and Wigfus said, \"I come of\na strong stock.\"\n\n\"I know that you do,\" said Halward; \"I know that the Icelanders are good\nmen. But I know this too, that the custom of my country will not suffer\na man to be injured without amends offered or taken. Neither\nBattle-Glum, nor you neither, shall stay me from avenging a shame done\nme.\" And Earl Haakon said that they should not.\n\nThen Halward went down to the shore to board the Iceland ship; but he\nfound that she had been run down into the water since the morning, and\nwas now moored a bowshot out. So he took boat and was rowed out to the\nship. There on the poop he saw Ogmund standing with his arms folded.\n\n\"Are you the master of this ship?\" says Halward. Ogmund said that he\nwas.\n\n\"I have a case against you, as you know very well, and have come to see\nwhat sort of amends you think of offering me.\"\n\nOgmund said, \"We will make amends if you don't ask too much.\"\n\nHalward's neck grew red. \"It would not be easy to ask too much for\ninsolence and knavery like yours.\"\n\n\"On those terms,\" said Ogmund, \"we cannot deal with you.\"\n\n\"That suits me better,\" Halward said, and made a jump for the bulwark of\nthe ship. He swung himself up as easily as a boy into a row-boat; and\nthe moment he was on deck, he aimed at Ogmund with the hammer-end of his\naxe, and felled him like a bullock. Down he went, and never stirred.\nSome of the shipmen who were in the forepart of the ship saw it all\ndone; but not one of them cared to move. Halward was a very big man.\n\nAt leisure he went over the side into his boat, and was pulled ashore.\nThen he went to Earl Haakon and told him what he had done. \"You have\ndone well,\" said the Earl.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nHOW OGMUND DINT DID NOTHING, AND PRESENTLY SAILED HOME TO THWARTWATER;\nAND WHAT BATTLE-GLUM THOUGHT ABOUT IT ALL\n\n\nThat was why Ogmund Ravensson was called Ogmund Dint, or Dint-head.\nHalward's hammer had knocked a great hollow in his skull. Men said you\ncould have boiled an egg in it; but that is nonsense. At any rate, he\nwas senseless for a long time, and not his own man all the winter; yet\nas soon as he was fit to be moved he was carried up into the country, to\nhis house-stead, and given over to his bondwoman to nurse.\n\nGerda, who, although she looked as sleek as a stroked kitten, had a\nshrewd tongue and a clear understanding, employed both to his\ndiscomfort--but not until she felt that she was justified. So long as he\nlay bemused and muttering thickly she was all devotion; but when he\npicked up a bit, and presently would get out of bed and sit by the fire\nhuddled in a bearskin, she did not scruple.\n\n\"You look like a shagged rock,\" she said, \"and with a cave in the crown\nof it, too. Pity is that you had so little in your head. If there had\nbeen some sense or some manliness there you might have driven against\nthe hatchet. Halward would have split it open, it's likely, and who\nknows what he might have eased you of? A lot of wind.\"\n\n\"Such talk as that maddens me,\" said Ogmund. \"I wish you would have done\nwith it. It becomes you not at all, and puts me out.\"\n\n\"That's a service I can do you,\" said Gerda. \"You need something of the\nkind.\"\n\n\"Woman,\" said Ogmund, \"I am meditating my revenge.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"and I have a hen sitting on a chalk egg. She's\nmeditating also.\"\n\nHowever, she did her duty by him, and as he got stronger she did more.\nAs she said, \"It pleases him, and is nothing to me.\"\n\nWigfus came to see him now and then, and told him what had happened. He\nsaid that Earl Haakon held Halward to have been justified in what he had\ndone, and that Halward himself was content for the moment. \"There was\nplenty more smiting in his axe,\" Halward said, \"and if Ogmund wants any\nmore he knows now how to get it, and where.\" Ogmund, brooding over the\nfire, swung his foot violently as he heard, but said nothing. He\ncomplained of pains in the head, and dreams at night. Gerda scorned him.\n\nWigfus went on to say that he himself had taken Halward's deed very much\nawry. He had challenged Halward to a battle, and intended to slay him\nin that wise, or otherwise, but the Earl had forbidden battle, and had\nhad a watch set over him, so that he could not get away. He did not then\nsay what was in his mind to say, that he expected Ogmund to take\nvengeance on his own account, because the man was too ill to hear it.\n\nBut in the spring, when Ogmund was about again and seemingly as well as\never he had been, except for the dint in his skull, Wigfus waited for\nhim, to see what he would do. Ogmund went about his affairs, and had\neverybody in the haven laughing at him, and cracking their jokes at his\ndunted head. Some said that a sea-bird had made a nest for herself\nthere, some brought eggs from the rocks to put under her. A man wished\nOgmund to keep it filled with water, and promised him goldfish from his\nnext voyage to the South. Every one called him Ogmund Dint, even the\nboys who played about on the quayside. But Ogmund managed to be very\nbusy, and pretended that they were not talking of him. Whenever he met\nHalward in the course of business he looked sternly at him, but without\ngreeting. He considered that the dignified way to deal with him, for the\npresent. To his intimates he said that Halward had taken him unawares\nand dealt a foul blow. \"But there's a time for all things,\" he would\nconclude; \"and so he will learn for himself one fine day.\" Men looked at\neach other at such talk.\n\nWigfus was now at him, insisting upon his taking vengeance. He said he\nwould help him in every way, risking outlawry in the act, for certainly\nthe Earl would resent it. But Ogmund looked very thoughtful, and one day\nsaid fairly that he did not see his way. \"What do you mean by that?\"\nsaid Wigfus, taken aback.\n\n\"We may easily do wrong, I believe,\" Ogmund said, \"and add wrong to\nwrong until you have a regular mixen of wrong at your house-door. But\nis that good sense? I don't think so. Now, to my thinking, I was as much\nin the wrong as Halward was. I am a proud man, and as quick to fire as\ntouchwood. Everybody knows it who knows me. If I met Halward haughtily I\nam sure there's no wonder. We can't help our natures. We didn't make\nourselves. Now that being so, what else could come of it? I ask you. The\nman being what he was, a common fellow, took it amiss, and struck me a\nfoul blow in the half dusk.\" He rubbed his hands together, then folded\nhis arms over his chest. \"That's the way of the vile. They do vilely,\nand the wise man lets them be, and the proud man scorns them. But there\nis another thing, which settles me in my opinion, and I will tell you\nwhat it is. This man Halward is befriended by the Earl; and here are\nyou, my friend, my kinsman, my foster-brother, in the power of the same\ngreat man. Your father is my foster-father, to whom I owe duty,\ngratitude, faith and service. It would be a strange way of paying Glum\nmy scot and lot if I embroiled his son with an Earl, and got him robbed\nof life or member in my quarrel. No, no. My fingers itch to be at him; I\nlay hands on myself; I tell you I have to run sometimes lest I should\nfly at the dog's throat. He knows it too. You can see that by the way he\nlooks at me--all ways at once. But I will not suffer harm to come to my\nfosterer's son--and there's end of it.\"\n\nAt this speech Wigfus grew very red, and clenched his two fists. \"It is\na strange way you have of doing service to Battle-Glum. And you will get\nno thanks from me for being more careful of my body than I am myself, If\nyou are not mad, you are something which I don't care to name. Whatever\nI may think of your head with a hole in it I have little doubt about\nyour heart. You have a hare's heart, my man--and there's no driving a\nhare to meet a hound. And I will trouble you to talk less about our\nkinship than you please to do at present. You had a father as well as a\nmother, and he was not of our blood. Now you may do as you please; but I\nshould not advise you to hold these speeches with my father; and you\nshall hold no more of them with me.\"\n\nWith that he walked off, leaving Ogmund to explain to Gerda that it was\nno use reasoning with an angry man. \"That's the way of it,\" he said.\n\"You try to do a man a service, and he reviles you for it.\"\n\nGerda bit her lip; and at last she said, \"You make me ashamed that I am\na woman. God knows what sons you may have given me.\" Ogmund boxed her\nears; but she said that he should give her no more sons, and she meant\nit.\n\n\nBut Ogmund, whatever else may be said about him, was a good chapman. He\nbustled along with his affairs, made a great deal of money, and sailed\naway towards midsummer, for Iceland. He came prosperously into Eyefirth,\nand when he had settled his business with the ship he rode by the dales\ninto Thwartwaterdale, to stay with his foster-father Glum. Now Glum had\nhad news of the coming of the ship, and was told something about the\naffray with Halward. He said very little, but thought very much. Ogmund\nhad a short welcome, but took no notice of it. He was so prosperous, he\nhad such a store of good clothes that he felt that all was well, when it\nwas by no means so. He began to take a great part in the affairs of the\ncountry-side, gave it out that Glum was getting old and wanted to be\nquiet, that he had no one to look to but Ogmund, in short that all\nmatters hitherto referred to Glum's arbitrament were now for his\nhandling--and so on, and so on. He had much to say about the management\nof the household; in fact he strutted, and clapped his wings, and\npuffed out his wattles very finely.\n\nFor a long while Glum, who certainly was old, would not speak to him;\nbut at last he did.\n\nHe then said, \"You had better know what I think of you, and maybe I had\nbetter have told you sooner. I think that all this strutting and crowing\nbecomes you sadly. You have had my name in the dust, and proved yourself\na poltroon, if not worse. A man may be a craven, but if he holds himself\nbravely when there is nobody in the way, then he is a fool as well. Now\nfor the disgrace you have brought upon me I desire never to see you\nagain.\"\n\nOgmund began at once with his excuse. \"But look at this,\" he said. \"How\ncould I bring your own son into danger on my account? What is my revenge\ncompared to such a life as his?\"\n\n\"What the mischief had you to do with that?\" said Glum. \"And how the\nmischief did it concern you, if he had no concern about it himself? Do\nyou think all men are such rats as you are? Don't you know that I would\nhave seen the pair of you dead with gladness if I knew that you had died\nlike men? Vex me no more, but let me be rid of you.\"\n\nThen Ogmund began to plead in earnest, but Glum would hardly listen to\nhim. He cut him short by saying, \"It comes to this, Ogmund. Either you\nare a man of long-mindedness and caution--and why you took such a high\nhand with Halward at first if you are not, that beats me--or you are a\nbag of silly vapour, a bladder of dry peasen. I believe myself, that you\nare a cur, and am forced to remind you that you come of base blood. A\nthrall deals like a thrall, they say--and so I say. But you shall not\nstay here any longer.\" And Ogmund must needs go. He went away to his\nfather in the North, and there he was for two years or more.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nOF KING OLAF TRYGVASSON; AND OF SIGURD HELMING AND GUNNAR, HIS BROTHER\n\n\nDuring those years, while Ogmund was faring prosperously with his father\nand was thinking of marrying a girl of those parts, misfortune overtook\nEarl Haakon, who fell out with some of his sworn friends, became\nsuspicious of others, and at last took to his bed with a troublesome\ncomplaint, and died in it, but not of the complaint. He had a servant\ncalled Kark, whom he trusted inordinately, and used to have him to sleep\nin his chamber at the foot of his bed. He had bad dreams and used to\nthrow himself about and cry out against his enemies. One night he had a\nvery bad dream, and sat up in bed, staring at the wall and screaming,\n\"They are coming, they are coming, they are here!\" Kark sprang up in a\nfright and with a sword in his hand slashed about him. He slashed the\nEarl in the neck; and that was his death-blow. The deed was done, and by\nmisadventure, but being done, Kark thought he might as well make profit\noff it. So he cut off Earl Haakon's head and put it in a bag. Then he\ncarried it with all speed over the mountains to King Olaf Trygvasson,\nwho he knew would be chosen King of Norway, as his right was. That was\nthe end of the Earl, who was a great man. But his death made way for a\ngreater.\n\nKing Olaf was still a youngish man when the Thing chose him. He may have\nbeen thirty years old, and the wife he had was his second, if not third.\nHe was a great-grandson of King Harold Fairhair, and had been bred up in\nRussia, then in Vendland, which is the country round about the Vistula;\nthen he went viking and did great things in Orkney, in Iceland and in\nEngland also. He sailed to Scilly at one time, and there he was baptized\nand became a Christian. The way of it was this: He heard tell of a\nprophet in those islands who knew everything that was going to happen,\nand determined to see what he could do. So he sent a fine man of his out\nto visit him, dressed in the best clothes that he had, rings, chains and\nI don't know what else. \"Now,\" he said, \"go to the prophet, and say you\nare a king. Ask him what he has to tell you, and report it all to me.\"\nThe man went as he was bid, found the prophet and said, \"Here is a king\ncome to visit you and hear what you have to say.\" The prophet, who was\nold, and white, and had a loose, wrinkled skin and remarkable\nfinger-nails, like a bird's claws, plucked at the roots of his beard.\n\"You are not a king,\" he said, \"but I advise you to be faithful to the\nman who is one, and sent you here. I have nothing to tell you, and if I\nhad I should not tell it. Go away.\"\n\nThere was little else to do, indeed, there was nothing else. When Olaf\nheard the story, he said, \"This is certainly a prophet. I will go to see\nhim.\"\n\nOlaf was a very noticeable man, very tall and broad, with a golden\nbeard; he was high-coloured and had bright blue eyes. The prophet was\nsitting in the mouth of his cave, which he had swept out and put in\norder. When he saw Olaf he bowed until his head was level with his\nknees. Olaf sat down beside him, and they had a long conversation.\n\nThe prophet presently began to prophesy. He said, \"You will become a\nnotable king in a country which is yours, though you have never seen it.\nAnd you will be a Christian king and cause all your people to become so\nbefore the end. And in case you doubt what I say, as you may easily do,\nlisten to this token. When you take to your ships again, all of you,\nthere will be a plot against you, and a rising by night. Then there will\nbe a battle--but on land; and you will lose men, and be wounded. They\nwill carry you on a shield to your ship, and in seven days you will be\nwell. The first thing you will do will be to seek out a bishop\nhereabouts, and go down into the water with him and be baptized. After\nyou all your men will go, and that will be the beginning of Christianity\nin Norway and Iceland.\"\n\n\nNow the odd thing about this tale is that it all fell out as the holy\nman had foreseen. That very man of the king's whom he had warned against\ntreachery was himself the beginner of a treacherous attack. There was\nfierce fighting, the king sorely wounded. He was carried on a shield to\nthe boats, and laid aboard his own long ship. There he lay for seven\ndays, and on the seventh he was well. The first thing he did was to\nvisit the man of God.\n\n\"You told me the truth,\" said Olaf; and the prophet said, \"That is why I\nam here and living in sanctity.\"\n\nOlaf said, \"The least I can do is to fulfil the prophecy which has so\nfar fulfilled itself. I will go into the water when you please.\"\n\nThe man of God said, \"The sooner the better. You will find the bishop\nvery ready for you.\"\n\n\"I will send for him,\" King Olaf said, \"but you shall tell me something\nof the religion which I suppose gives you the powers you possess.\"\n\nThe prophet agreed to that. \"It is a very good religion for a king,\" he\nsaid, \"because it may make him humble-minded before God, which he has no\nreason otherwise to be--or so he is apt to think. In any event it must\nmake his subjects so, which is very useful to the king.\"\n\n\"Oh, very,\" said Olaf, and became attentive to what the wise man had to\nsay.\n\nTo be short about it, King Olaf was baptized and all the men with him in\nthe long ships; and soon afterwards he sailed for Norway where, in the\ntime of Earl Haakon's sickness, he made a landing and gathered a company\nabout him. When the Earl was killed by Kark, his head was brought to\nKing Olaf in a bag by the malefactor. Olaf accepted it as his due; but\nhe hanged Kark then and there on a convenient ash-tree.\n\nI said that the Thing chose Olaf for king; and one of the first of his\nacts was to proclaim that he chose Christianity for the religion of\nNorway, and willed that all his people should be baptized. He had\nbrought back priests with him from Scilly, and a bishop as well, so\neverything was in order.\n\nThe common sort gave him no trouble, for they either ran down into the\nwater in herds, or withdrew themselves to the mountains and forests;\nbut some of the great men were stiff about it, and did not choose to\nforsake their gods. They debated about it among themselves, and sent\nchosen champions to debate about it with the king. But in this they had\nmistaken their man. King Olaf listened to one or two, and then, lifting\nhis large hand, slammed it down upon the board in front of him. \"Enough\nof this,\" he said. \"It may be a good religion or a bad, but it is my own\nreligion, and I desire it to be that of my people. See you to it, and\nlet me have no more talk, for I am sick of it.\" They went away, and a\ngood many of them were baptized, but by no means all.\n\nThere were two brothers living in a dale of Drontheim--Sigurd was the\nelder, and his brother was Gunnar. Both were called Helming. They were\nwell descended, and neither of them was thirty years old, though Sigurd\nwas near it. He was married and a friend of the King's. Gunnar was\ntwenty-six years old, a cheerful high-coloured man with a reddish\nbeard, though his hair was much darker, and might have been taken for\nblack. Sigurd was a councillor, Gunnar was not, but had been to sea, and\nfought in Sicily, and as far as Micklegarth. When he was not voyaging he\nlived with his brother. The pair were great friends.\n\nSigurd Helming was one of those who followed Olaf's example, and went\ndown into the water. When it was over and all his household had been\nmade Christians, he said to Gunnar, \"Now it's your turn.\"\n\nGunnar laughed. \"Not for me,\" he said. \"I will go into the water when my\ntime comes, but that will be the end of me. I know too much about the\nwater.\"\n\nSigurd said, \"It's soon over.\"\n\n\"The sooner the better,\" said Gunnar, \"when it is to be--and also, the\nlater the better.\"\n\nSigurd said, \"This is the king's religion.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"The king will be displeased. He loves his own way.\"\n\n\"We all do that, I believe,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"What am I to tell him when he asks me of you?\" Sigurd asked him.\n\n\"Tell him that I follow him because he is a man,\" said Gunnar. \"Tell him\nthat I will serve him all the better for following my own counsel in\nthis business of religion. You will see that he understands me.\"\n\n\"I am sure he will not,\" said Sigurd, \"but I will try him.\"\n\n\nHe made the best case he could, and King Olaf heard him out. When Sigurd\nhad done he said, \"Send Gunnar to me.\" So Gunnar went to the King's\nhouse.\n\nKing Olaf looked at him with his bright blue eyes like swords. \"You are\na fighting man, I hear.\"\n\nGunnar said that he was.\n\n\"And now you will fight with me.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"If you go fighting, King Olaf, I will go with you, if you\nwill have me.\"\n\n\"My religion says that he who is not with me is against me.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"That's a good saying. But I am with you.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" said King Olaf, \"since you refuse to take my religion.\"\n\n\"If I were to take your religion I should be a liar,\" said Gunnar, \"and\nif I were a liar I should not be worth your while. Better take me as I\nam.\"\n\n\"I will take you as you are sooner than not at all,\" the king said. \"But\nI do not like a stiff-necked man.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"The neck of a man is part of the back of the man. If he is\ntoo supple in the neck it is likely he will give in the back, and that\nat a time when stiffness may be useful.\"\n\nKing Olaf frowned. \"Beware of talking too much. It makes me angry.\"\n\n\"I had much rather not talk at all,\" Gunnar said, \"but it would be\nill-mannered to be glum when a king speaks to me.\"\n\nOlaf said, \"Will you consult with my bishop, and hear what he has to\nsay?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Gunnar, \"but you must let me tell you that I am not a\nscholar, but a man of hands. There will be more talking. Heat will be\nengendered, and you will be angry again.\"\n\nOlaf liked Gunnar very well, and was silent for a bit. Then he said,\n\"You are one of the few who gainsay me; yet I don't feel badly disposed\nto you. I think you are a fool; but you seem to know it yourself.\"\n\n\"The fact is, that I do,\" said Gunnar. \"Your bishop alarms me.\"\n\n\"You will find out in time that I am right and you wrong,\" said the\nking. \"Be off with you, and serve me as well as you can.\"\n\n\"Have no fear about that,\" said Gunnar, and kept to his own religion,\nwhich was not, with him, a very great matter. But he did not feel at\nall inclined to change it because he was told to do so. King Olaf soon\ngot over his vexation; but, as it will shortly appear, he kept it at the\nback of his mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nOGMUND DINT COMES AGAIN TO NORWAY, AND MEETS GUNNAR ON THE HARD OF\nDRONTHEIM\n\n\nIt is time to go back to Ogmund Dint, who had now been two years and\nmore with his father in the North. He had become something of a great\nman, and had impressed himself as such upon the people round about. But\nhe was not easy in his mind, and more than once or twice he asked\nhimself, \"What am I doing, purfling here in a fine coat, when my\nfoster-father, who is as rich as he is old, is perhaps dying in his bed\nwithout sight or memory of me, and with none of his kindred at hand\neither? Is this sense, is this pious? Here I am, for two years at a\ntime, a great man, and a great fool.\"\n\nAt another time he would reflect like this: \"That was a very dastardly\ndeed done upon me by Halward, to take me unawares on my own shipboard\nand knock a great dint in my head!\" He would feel the place of it: there\nit lay under a growth of hair as snug as a wren's nest in the roots of a\ntree. \"A foul blow!\" he would say; and \"A man may carry his magnanimity\ntoo far, to overlook such a shameful thing for the sake of another man,\nonly half akin, who moreover gives you no thanks.\" He shook his head.\n\"Indeed, I let off Halward too lightly. I daresay he thinks himself a\nlucky fellow--and so he is, by God.\"\n\nOne train of thought led him into another, and he began to consider his\naffairs more narrowly. \"It would be an easy thing, and very pertinent\nindeed, to carry this warfare on as it was begun. Two years, three\nyears, is a goodish while. Halward will not be expecting such a long\nmemory in a man who never did him any harm. But insults such as he did\nto me stay by a man, and the prouder the man the quicker the soil in\nwhich they root themselves. I am astonished--I am fairly\nastonished--that I have kept myself off him so long. There are not many\nmen in Iceland who have themselves so firmly in hand--bitted and\nsaddled.\"\n\nIn the event, without saying anything of his private mind to anybody, he\ngave out that he must go to Norway upon his affairs. He furnished a ship\nwith men and goods, and towards midsummer sailed from Eyefirth, and\nsteered East-North-East.\n\nHe had a fair wind and came into Drontheim Firth in the morning light,\nsailed up the firth prosperously and brought his ship to under Nith's\nholm. There he cast his anchor, and bade them get out a boat, though the\nday was spent and a cool breeze was now blowing off the land. But \"I\nmust row up the river some little way and go into the town,\" he said.\n\"I have heard something of trouble in this country, and we must be sure\nof our footing before we go further.\" He dressed himself with splendour,\nand put over him in particular a very fine cloak of two colours. It was\ngreen on one side and golden-brown on the other. It had trimmings of\nsable-tails which fluttered in the breeze, and over the back of it a\ndragon worked in gold thread: a very magnificent cloak. He took a sword,\nand had two men to row him.\n\nThey came in to the hard with the last of the light. \"Stay you here for\nme,\" he said, \"and don't show yourselves. This is an urgent affair.\"\n\n\nOgmund walked on the hard, up and down, and felt himself admired of the\nfew persons who were about. By and by he saw one coming down from the\ntown at a brisk pace; a man of his own height, but of sparer frame than\nhis own. He wore a crimson cloak with a hood to it, and wore the hood\nover his head, shadowing his face. The oncomer when he was close at hand\nwas struck by the splendour of Ogmund's appearance. Ogmund saw that and\nsaluted him. Gunnar Helming, for that was the man in the hood, returned\nit, and stopped his quick step.\n\n\"You are the master of that boat, I take it?\" said Gunnar. \"A stranger\nin this water?\"\n\n\"Not so much as that,\" replied Ogmund. \"I come now and again to see my\nfriends here. But I am from Iceland myself. My name is Ogmund.\"\n\nGunnar looked at him. \"Are you Ogmund Dint?\"\n\nOgmund said, \"Some men call me that, and others who know me better call\nme Ogmund Ravensson. But that matters little to me. Now what might your\nname be, in fair return?\"\n\nGunnar told him--but could not keep either eyes or tongue from Ogmund's\nwonderful cloak. \"Gunnar is my name,\" he said, \"and some call me Gunnar\nHelming, and some Gunnar Half-and-Half.\"\n\n\"What do they call you that for?\"\n\n\"Because I take pleasure in wearing clothes like that fine cloak of\nyours,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Ogmund, \"my cloak! It is an ordinary cloak, I believe.\"\n\n\"I, too, like to believe that,\" said Gunnar.\n\nThen Ogmund asked him for news of the country, \"since it is some years\nnow since I was here.\"\n\nGunnar told him that they had news which they thought a good deal of.\n\"Earl Haakon is dead, and we now have a very notable king, whose name is\nOlaf Trygvasson. He is a Christian, and drives all men, and women too,\ninto the water, to make Christians also of them.\"\n\nOgmund said this was greatness; \"And do the people take kindly to the\nwater?\" Gunnar said that they did.\n\nThen Ogmund said, \"And my friend Halward, how is he?\"\n\n\"Oh, he!\" said Gunnar. \"I saw him just now.\"\n\n\"What, here?\" says Ogmund.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gunnar, \"he is here sure enough. He is as good friends with\nKing Olaf as ever he was with Earl Haakon, and yet he is not the man he\nwas when he gave you your name.\"\n\n\"How is that then?\" Ogmund wanted to know.\n\n\"Why,\" Gunnar told him, \"one of the last battles fought by Haakon was at\nYomswicking; and in that battle Halward got a great whang by the ear,\nand rather below it. It cut the sinew of his neck, and made a bad\nhealing. The good man now carries his head on one side, and will do it\nuntil his death-day. And yet he is as well as ever he was otherwise, and\nin high favour with the king.\"\n\nOgmund thanked him for all this news; but saw how preoccupied Gunnar\nwas, and how his eyes dwelt upon his cloak. \"You are pleased to admire\nmy cloak,\" he said. \"And yet I assure you it is by no means the best I\nhave.\"\n\n\"I can believe it,\" said Gunnar, \"but for my part I have never seen one\nso fine since I left the great city of Micklegarth. Now if I asked you\nto sell it to me, Ogmund, would you take it amiss?\"\n\nOgmund thought for a while. \"I will not sell it to you,\" he said, \"but I\nwill ask you to accept it from me. It would be a pleasure to me to\nplease you.\"\n\nGunnar opened his eyes. They were very bright. \"Give it to me by all\nmeans,\" he said, \"and prosper in all your undertakings! But it is too\nmuch for you to do--and I am rather ashamed.\"\n\n\"By no means,\" said Ogmund Dint, \"by no manner of means. Yet if it will\nset your mind at ease, and as the wind blows shrewdly off the mountains,\nperhaps we may make an exchange. How would that suit you?\"\n\n\"Excellently,\" said Gunnar, \"but my old cloak is dross for your gold.\"\n\n\"It looks a serviceable garment,\" said Ogmund. \"It will keep the weather\naway.\"\n\nThere and then they exchanged. Ogmund put on the crimson cloak, and\npulled the hood up over his head; Gunnar put on his bargain and was as\npleased as a boy with a new top.\n\n\"Now indeed we shall see something,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" said Ogmund, and saluted him.\n\nGunnar went his ways with his brisk step, and Ogmund turned back to his\nboat. \"I shan't be long gone,\" he said. \"Stand by your oars, and be\nready the moment I want you.\" Then he went into the town with long\nstrides, and walked briskly, swinging one arm, as he had observed Gunnar\ndo coming down.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nOGMUND DINT SATISFIES HIMSELF, AND SAILS HOME\n\n\nOgmund walked briskly into the street, looking for Halward. At first he\ncould not find him, but that was because he looked in the wrong places.\nThen, after a time, he turned into a lane or by-way which led to a\ncreek, and a row of buildings facing it, with willow-trees in front of\nthem, between them and the water. One of these buildings was an inn, and\nin the court of that inn there was a company of men washing their hands\nbefore supper. The tallest of them by far was Halward, and if Ogmund had\nnot remembered him very well without it, he would have known him by the\ntwist in his neck, which made him poke his head out like a stork when\nshe is stretching hers forward to flack her wings. It was now dusk, and\na lamp was alight in the court that men might see what they were about.\n\nOgmund with the hood well forward over his face stepped into the court.\nBefore him was Halward, standing with his legs apart. He was rubbing the\nsoap-suds into one arm with the other hand. His face and beard were wet\nwith rinsing. He saw the entry and hailed it with a \"God save thee,\nGunnar\"; but Ogmund laid a finger on his lip and beckoned him to come\napart with an air of having a secret to tell. Having done that, he\nstepped out of the court until Halward should follow him.\n\nHalward came after him with a \"What's in the wind then?\" Ogmund drew\ninto a doorway, and got his sword free of his cloak. The moment Halward\ncame within range of him he stepped out to meet him and hewed at his\nneck. It was Halward's death-blow. He shook and groaned thickly, and\nthen fell. His head was nearly off.\n\nOgmund went away with all speed, and was not long coming to the quay\nwhere he had left his boat. He found his men waiting for him, and jumped\ninto the boat.\n\n\"Pull with a will,\" he said; \"we will be out of this. There's war in\nthis country. Up the street I saw men fighting. There will be no trading\nhere.\"\n\n\"What,\" said one of them, \"are we to see nothing of the sport, master?\nThat will be a poor tale to take home with us.\"\n\n\"We are here to trade, not to go to peep-shows,\" said Ogmund testily.\n\"Do you do as I bid you. There is a wind coming strong off the land\nwhich will hold the night out. By morning light we shall be in the open\nsea. Fortunate for us that it is so.\"\n\nThe men did as they were bid. One of them said, \"It's plain you have\nbeen in the fray. You have changed cloaks with a foe, I see, and lost by\nthe bargain. That is bad trading for such a keen merchant.\"\n\n\"Pull, man, pull, and hold your tongue,\" said Ogmund Dint.\n\n\nThey reached the ship and he swung himself aboard. Then while the crew\nwere busy hauling on the tackle he got himself a great stone from the\nballast. This he rolled into the hood of Gunnar's cloak, and then cast\nthe thing into the water. As he saw the waves lap over the hole he had\nmade, he took a long breath.\n\nAll went well with him; as he had thought, he was out at sea by the\nmorning. Even then his luck held, with a quarter wind which carried him\nto Eyefirth. People were surprised to see him; but he made a very good\ntale of it, and spoke at length about the sad state of things in Norway,\nthe risks, the frays, the bloodshed in the streets, burnings,\nravishings, cut throats, men hanging by the thumbs and so on. He did not\nforget to work into it much about the killing of Earl Haakon, and King\nOlaf's baptizings. After a bit he rode South to Thwartwater to see his\nfoster-father Battle-Glum.\n\n\nGlum joined his shaggy brows and blinked hard when he saw him. Ogmund\nsaid he brought him news which he would be pleased to hear. \"I have\navenged the insult done me by Halward the Strong, and though I have been\nslow about it I have done it surely. He will insult no man hereafter.\"\n\n\"What,\" said Glum, \"have you slain Halward?\"\n\n\"I have,\" said Ogmund.\n\n\"And yourself scatheless?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"That was a good battle then?\n\n\"It was. They were twelve to our three; but we thought little of it at\nthe time. In hot blood such things are not memorable.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Glum, \"you have done now as I hoped it might have been at\nfirst. Did my son Wigfus help you?\"\n\n\"He did not.\"\n\nGlum was thoughtful. \"He will be sorry not to have been in with you.\"\n\nOgmund said that he had not seen Wigfus at all, and rather thought that\nhe was at sea; \"Or he would surely have stood in with me.\"\n\n\"To be sure he would,\" said Glum.\n\n\nNow Ogmund was taken into favour again, and stayed with Battle-Glum all\nthe winter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE HUE-AND-CRY FOR HALWARD NECK\n\n\nAfter a bit somebody in the inn yard said, \"Let us go in to supper\"; and\nthen another, \"Where is Halward, and what is he doing?\"\n\nA man said, \"He is outside talking with Gunnar Helming.\"\n\nThen another: \"Let us have Gunnar in to sup with us. He is the best\ncompany.\"\n\nThey all agreed to that.\n\nAfter a time of more waiting a man went out of the yard to see where\nHalward and Gunnar were, and came back with a serious face.\n\n\"Come out with me,\" he said. \"Here's a bad affair.\"\n\nThey all tumbled out together with the lamp, and there found Halward\ndead in his blood. He was stiffening already.\n\nThen, after silence, all began to talk at once. Nobody could understand\nthe slaying, nobody could doubt who had done it, for everybody had seen\nGunnar come into the yard, or the few who had not took it from the many\nwho had. Not a word of doubt was raised about it.\n\n\nAs Halward was a friend of the king's certainly the king must have the\nnews; but all hung back from the errand because all men liked Gunnar.\nThe end of it was that, having brought the body into the yard and\ncovered it with a carpet, they went in to supper and ate and drank\nthoughtfully and in silence.\n\nWhile they were sitting at their drink in came Sigurd Helming to see if\nGunnar was there. He asked for him and could not but notice how his\nquestion was received. Repeating it, he had no answer at all. A third\ntime he asked it, and of one man by name. He was answered that Gunnar\nhad been there, but had spoken to nobody.\n\n\"That is not like Gunnar,\" Sigurd said. \"What did he do when he came\nin?\"\n\n\"He beckoned to one of us, and went out again.\"\n\n\"And to which of you did he beckon?\"\n\n\"It was to Halward Neck.\"\n\n\"And where is Halward Neck?\"\n\nThen there was a silence, and after that another man, very red in the\nface and with gleaming eyes, spoke between his teeth.\n\n\"I will show you where Halward Neck is,\" he said. \"Come with me.\" He led\nhim out into the yard, while the rest crowded at the door.\n\nHe showed him the dead man; he held the lamp close to his face.\n\n\"Who did this?\" said Sigurd. Then, beginning with a low murmur, all\nvoices rose and the name of Gunnar was cried in his ears. Sigurd lifted\nhis head, and all were silent.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" he said, \"but somebody must tell the king of it.\"\n\nThey went back into the house and shut the doors. Sigurd was told what\nevery one knew, or thought that he knew. One man had seen Gunnar go down\nto the hard in his cloak and hood; half-a-dozen had seen him come into\nthe yard afterwards; three or four had heard Halward greet him; some had\nseen the beckoning, others had seen Halward follow him out. Then they\nhad gone out to look for them, and there found Halward slain.\n\nSigurd said, \"It looks very black against Gunnar, but I cannot believe\nit. Yet I know that the king must be told, and that he will be ready to\nthink the worst of my brother because he has been so stiff against his\nreligion. Now my thought at first was that I would tell him myself,\nsince none of you seemed ready to go with the news--but see here, my\nfriends, you would not have me bear witness against my own brother?\"\n\nThey all agreed to that. Then he said, \"I will ask one or several of you\nto tell the king in the morning. It is late now, and he will not expect\nyou to disturb him at this hour of the night. Yet I tell you fairly that\nI myself shall go to find Gunnar and warn him of what is astir against\nhim. If I think, when I see him, that he is the guilty man, it may be\nthat I shall go with you to King Olaf. If I leave him still in the mind\nI am in now, then I shall not testify against him.\"\n\nThey all said, No, no. They said that he knew nothing of the matter, and\nthat his name need not be in the business at all. Sigurd said, \"The king\nwill speak to me about it, I know. But I shall have time for what I want\nto do.\" Then he left them sitting at their drink, and went to find\nGunnar.\n\n\nNow first I will deal with the embassy to the king, and then with what\nhappened when Sigurd saw his brother. Olaf was in a great taking. He\ngrew red and thumped the table with his fist. \"This is what comes of\nclemency. That rascal refused my religion and I let him go. He vowed\nthat he would serve me and I believed him, like a fool. This is how it\nis brought back to me, sevenfold into my bosom. Now do you go and\napprehend Gunnar, and hang him up on a tree. Don't let me see him, for I\nam in such a rage that I should insult him in his chains. Hang him out\nof hand, and let us get on with our affairs.\"\n\nThat was what the king said, and they left him with heavy hearts. But\nGunnar was not hanged because he was not at home when they went to fetch\nhim.\n\nThe very night of the slaying Sigurd had gone to him. He went directly\nto him from the inn where Halward lay dead.\n\n\"Gunnar,\" he said, \"what was the grief between you and Halward that you\nmust deal him a dog's death?\"\n\nGunnar gaped at him. \"Halward? Is Halward dead? Who did that?\"\n\nSigurd said, \"They say that you did it this very evening at the inn on\nMarkfleet.\"\n\nGunnar answered him, \"That be far from me.\" But he had no more to say.\n\n\"Well,\" said Sigurd, \"you say what I believe, but it looks very black\nagainst you.\" Then he told him what the rumours were, how he had been\nseen go down the street, then come up the street, how he had shown\nhimself in the yard, said nothing, but beckoned Halward out; how he had\nnot been seen again, and how Halward had been found stiff in his own\nblood in the street.\n\nGunnar heard all this in silence, and remained silent so long that\nSigurd had to make him speak. \"Well, what are we to answer them?\" he\nsaid.\n\nGunnar lifted his head and looked at him. \"I can only tell you,\" he\nsaid, \"that I am innocent of this deed.\"\n\n\"Do you know nothing at all of it?\" he was asked.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Gunnar, \"that is where you touch me. Now I must tell you\nfairly that I can say nothing more to you or anybody at this hour.\"\n\nThen Sigurd said, \"You had better be off. The king will certainly hang\nyou for it.\"\n\nGunnar thought. \"Yes,\" he said, \"I must go. All may be set straight some\nday; but not by me.\" Then Sigurd left him, and Gunnar made his\npreparations.\n\nHe took very little with him, for he knew that he must go far, and most\nof it afoot. The king's hand stretched to the confines of Norway, and\neven in Iceland his power was being felt. Gunnar thought that he must\ntravel East--on horseback so far as he could get, but after that, he\nmust cross the mountains and get down into Sweden. He took a sword and a\nsack of provision, and those were all that he took. No, there was one\nthing more. He could not bring himself to relinquish the fine cloak he\nhad had from Ogmund Dint. Besides, if it were found when men came to\nlook for him it might be witness against the man who had done the deed.\nIt was against Gunnar's religion to betray a man's secret. He rolled up\nthe cloak therefore and stuffed it into the saddle-bag.\n\nThen he got out his sorrel mare and rode off in the dusk. He went East\nby a dale which he judged would bring him soonest out of King Olaf's\nholding; and he rode all night and till noon the next day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nGUNNAR CROSSES THE MOUNTAINS\n\n\nIt was slow going in the dark, but the sorrel picked up her feet, and\nthe road was well known to Gunnar. He had not much time to think, but\nfound little to regret except Halward's death. He had liked Halward, as\nhe was ready to like most men. Nevertheless, he had now to admit that he\nhad little esteem for Ogmund Dint.\n\n\"That was a dirty trick to serve a man who had done him no harm. And I\ntook his bait down like a codling, and served his turn finely. A sharp\npractiser is Ogmund Dint, and gets by foul means what he dare not try\nfor fairly.\" So he thought of it--and then he said to himself,\njustifying the man, \"When all's said, a man must look after himself.\nHalward had many friends to avenge him; and if Ogmund had been caught\nred-handed he was done for. I am thinking King Olaf would have been\ncheated of his rope-work. Somebody or other would have hewn him down\nbefore news ever got to the Court. Yes, I don't see what else he could\nhave done--and yet I would not have done it myself. Well, I am a fine\ncloak to the good, which I will keep in case I want it some day as\ntestimony.\" He chuckled over his great gains, glad that he had brought\nit with him, though he had had another purpose in his mind when he\npacked it into his bag. \"May be the Swedes will take me for a king's\nson.\" He knew nothing of the Swedes, believed to be a dark and savage\npeople, a people of forests and swamps; but he must venture among them\nif he wished to save his neck. \"Oh, yes, certainly I wish to save my\nneck.\"\n\nHe found himself to be passably happy, riding under the stars up the\ndales which grew ever narrower, and more intricate. There was little\ncantering ground, and the way difficult to find. Knowing the stars well,\nhe steered by them. Besides that the season was still fair and it could\nnever be called dark.\n\nHe rested not until the sun was warming the snow on the peaks above him,\nand then not for long. But he had to go very slowly now, up the bed of a\nwater-course which he must cross and re-cross half-a-dozen times in the\nhalf-hour to get tolerable going ground. The sorrel stretched her neck\nand blew through her nose. She was tired and he knew it, and felt heavy\nat the thought that he and she must soon part. She was his dearest\npossession. He thought that he loved her as much as his brother. Both of\nthem had served him well in this affair. \"It was a generous thing of\nSigurd, so near as he is to King Olaf, to come and warn me. He may get\ninto trouble over it. All depends on the king's mood. If he is in a\nrage he may tie Sigurd up and keep him in bondage on my account. But no!\nI trust that king. He was good to me about his religion.\" He laughed\nover the memory of that, and looking up into the clear sky, which the\nsun was burning to whiteness, watching the soaring eagles, marking up\nthe glittering snowfields the herds of deer stretched out in thin lines\nof travel like trees in file, he felt happy.\n\nThe time came when he must send the mare home. He freed her of saddle\nand bridle. He loaded himself with the pack-bag, cut himself a\nbirch-sapling for staff, and stood ready. Then he kissed Sorrel's nose,\nand turned her face westward. \"Home with thee, dear one,\" he said, \"and\nkeep thy counsel when thou art there. We shall meet again if the luck\nholds. Neigh at thy stable door and Sigurd will befriend thee.\nFarewell.\" He gave her a hearty smack on the buttock, then held his\narms wide and said \"Off.\" She looked round at him, prick-eared and\nclose-eyed. She whinnied to him, then turned to nibble the grass. \"What,\nthou wilt not? But I tell thee, go. One more kiss perhaps.\" He kissed\nher again, and whispered in her ear, \"Home, my dear.\" She looked forward\ndown the rocky vale she had climbed and then walked soberly down. Once\nor twice she stopped and looked round, and then she neighed after him.\n\"Shoo, mare!\" he said. \"Shoo, girl!\" and opened his arms. Sorrel went\ndown the valley and he lost sight of her.\n\nHe turned to his way which asked him to cross a mountain shoulder deep\nin snow. That was heavy going, for it was soft in the sun. From the top\nhe saw his work before him, fold within fold of snow, brown\nvalley-bottoms, and over all the great ridge of white with pines like\nscars upon it, which was the boundary between Norway and Sweden.\nHeavens! What a job he had got. But he went on, nothing doubting, and\nkept a stout heart. \"A lonely place to be hanged in, and few trees fit\nfor it. But I doubt I should have a fight for it here.\"\n\n\nI need not delay over his journey, which took him two days longer, and\ntwo nights. By the time he had climbed the great ridge he had come near\nthe end of his strength and his provisions for it. Yet he must go on;\nfor that was no place in which to spend the night, a waste of snow and a\nline of torn pines driven everlastingly by a cruel wind. When he saw\nwhat was now in front of him and below, his heart might sink, though it\ndid not. So far as eye could range all was forest. It was like looking\nupon a dark sea, featureless except for the lines of light and shadow\nwhich ran over it when wind and sun played together. He saw no ways, no\nclearings; there rose no chimney-smoke anywhere. Not a bird sailed\nabove, not a wolf grieved, not a fox stirred. \"And is that Sweden then?\nAnd are there people dwelling in the dark beneath? There are two worlds\nthere, and there might be dwellers in the tree-tops who know nothing of\nthe inhabitants of the deep, and are themselves unknown. How am I to\nguide myself through that thicket, and who is going to feed me or give\nme drink?\" Looking into it, he shivered in the wind. \"Outlandish\ncountry, you must do better for me than this,\" he said. He had a\ntraverse of a league of snow-slope before he could enter the forest. To\nthat he addressed himself now, with a prayer to all the Gods in Valhall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nGUNNAR IN THE FOREST HEARS TELL OF FREY AND HIS WONDERS\n\n\nThe course of the snow-slope brought Gunnar to rocks and a precipice\nfrom a gorge in which descended a river of ice. Far below him he heard\nthe thunderous crash of water, and judged that in following that, if it\ncould be done, he would find his best chance of guiding his way through\nthe forest. The river would join another; that other must in time reach\nthe sea. So he determined to do; but it was easy talking. It took him\nthe best part of a day to get down the cliff. He spent a miserable night\ncrouched under a rock, and started off again in the morning almost\nfasting. There was coarse grass now growing wherever there was hold for\nit. In one of these he saw a white hare lying flat, and by a trick he\nknew he fell his length upon her and secured her. He had no fire, and\nmade what he could of her raw and sinewy flesh. So replenished, he went\non his downward course, reached the waterfall bathed in sweat, and\nfollowed it as nearly as might be down into the chill and silence and\ndarkness of the forest.\n\nDay and night were alike to him now; for a time whose duration he took\nno pains to guess at, he worked his way downwards, a more fearful toil,\nwith more of peril in it than any he had spent in climbing the ridge.\nThis great forest was untouched by the hand, unvisited by the foot of\nman so far as he could understand. He saw no living thing, though high\nabove him he sometimes heard the battling of wings, and once or twice\nhoarse cries which he judged must come from the air. He listened for\nwolves or foxes, but heard none; he kept his eyes aware for the track\nof roe-deer or bear, but vainly. All was silent and accursed. Except on\nthe banks of the torrent there was little vegetation to be seen, for\namong the pine stems the needles lay close and deep upon the ground, and\nnothing could live in such a soil or in such a chill and dank air.\nWhither he went, or how far he had come, he knew not; for all his\nsteadiness of heart, the conviction turned him sick that if he did not\nsoon meet with men there would be one man less in the world.\n\n\"Better to have been hanging on a green tree in the warm and living air\nthan to slowly fritter away into corruption, and become bleached bones\nhere in the dark and cold.\" He looked back with wistfulness to such a\ngenial death. \"Sigurd would have piled a cairn for me. He would have\ngrieved for me, and said prayers to his new God in the king's new\ntemple. Well, hanging is a man's death, as battle is. But to fight the\ndark, to grow weak by chill and hunger, to be so lonely that not a raven\ntroubles about your dead eyes! This is a death for wolves--but not for\nmen who love to lie snug among their fellows.\"\n\nThese were his thoughts at the worst; at the best he felt that before\nlong he must hit upon a sign of life.\n\nHe was now on level ground, and true it was that he came at last upon a\nclearing. A broad green road ran on either side of a ford in the river.\nHere he stood and looked up at the blue sky, and saw how the sun made\nthe tree-tops seem cut out of gold. He forgot his emptiness, his\nloneliness and dark forebodings. \"Oh, now I see that the sun is a God\nwho loves men!\"\n\nAs if that was true, and he was to be assured of it, a shaft of sunlight\nstruck the ford and turned his eyes that way. It clarified the water and\nbrought the stones into sight. Presently he saw a better thing: a\ngoodly fish lay in the deeper part, faintly swaying his tail. Gunnar\nmade a wide cast over the river and crawled up the bank on his belly. He\nlay motionless, watching his prey, and then, inch by inch, approached\nhis hand to the belly of the fine fish. Inch by inch he went upwards to\nthe head; then, judging his time, snapped his fingers together into the\ngills and jerked him out of the water. Here truly was a prize awarded\nhim by the sun. The fish was good eating. He ate him all but the head\nand bones.\n\nNow he must decide what to do, whether he should follow the river or the\nroad. If he followed the road, by which hand should he be guided? He was\nnot long in deciding the first issue. The sun and the sky were too dear\nto him to be lost again. For the second, he was for following the sun,\nwhich was high in the heavens. If it was noon, the road which ran into\nthe sun would lead him to the South. On the South also was the sea.\nBesides all that there was to be said that the road had been cleared by\nmen, and must lead to the dwellings of men.\n\nStrong in this assurance, he went briskly along a good green track. Now\nhe could tell night from day; now he saw birds flying overhead;\npresently a fox trotted across the way in front of him, saw him and sat\nup to watch. He barked shortly once or twice and then galloped into the\nthicket. But Gunnar felt enheartened by the sight of him. After that he\nheard wolves howling afar off, as their custom is at sunset. But the\ngreat event of all was on the next day, when he saw two things, one\nafter the other, which made his heart beat. The first was a dog, which\nthe moment he caught sight of him pelted away up the track with his tail\nclapped to his hinder parts; the second was a young woman. As he came\nround a curve in the road she was standing in the middle of it at a\nbowshot's distance. She was very pale, black-haired, short-kirtled and\nbarefoot. He stopped immediately to watch; but at that moment she saw\nhim and slipped among the trees. Gunnar ran with all his might; he\ncalled; he shouted. No answer. He couldn't find her anywhere. No matter.\nSweden was inhabited. He would not die lonely. His heart was high to be\nsure of that, and he went on rejoicing.\n\nNext he came to an open place, a clearing in the trees where men had\nlately been. He saw the ashes of their fire, bones, the skin of a goat.\nHe saw leaves and branches which had been slept upon; he saw the prints\nof hoofs--ponies' or donkeys' hoofs. So he journeyed on, and at last\nsmelt the friendly smell of burning wood. \"Now to accost the Swedes,\" he\nsaid. \"What will they make of me? Or I of them?\"\n\nGuided by the smell he was not long before he saw men about a great\nfire. There may have been eight of them there. They looked black, and he\nknew that they were charcoal-burners--which in fact they were. Taking\nhis life in his hands he went directly towards them, and when they saw\nhim, and scrambled to their feet in amazement, he lifted his hand in\ngreeting and came among them. They were cooking over their fire; a great\npot was bubbling. Their dogs came smelling about his calves; but they\nthemselves stood speechless where they were. \"Do these blacks intend my\ndeath?\" he asked himself. He hoped not, but did not draw the sword.\n\nSeeing that they did not move, and that their very dogs had now\nwithdrawn themselves and were barking uneasily at a distance, Gunnar\nadvanced with friendly gestures. Hereupon the men with one accord fell\nto their knees and stooped their bodies until their faces touched the\nearth. \"Good souls, they take me for a God,\" he thought. He was now\nfairly within the line of them, and stretching his hands over the fire.\nThe smell from the pot tickled his nostrils and brought water into his\nmouth. How long was it since he had tasted cooked food? It was too much\nfor him. Forgetting the dangers of manhood and the honours of godhead\nalike, he fished in the pot for a morsel, sat down and began to eat. He\nfound himself ravenous, and in good case to better himself; he might\nhave eaten the contents of the pot, but that by cautious degrees the\ncharcoal-burners began to consider him. He found bright eyes peering at\nhim from between sooty fingers. Finally one bolder than the rest lifted\nhis head, and fairly asked him if he were a man or a God. He spoke\nhoarsely, but could be understood.\n\n\"Friend,\" Gunnar said, \"you may see by my procedure that I am a man and\na hungry one, though not now so hungry as I was.\"\n\nThe man, at this, punched his neighbour of either side, and said, \"Up,\nfor this is a man like ourselves.\" Presently they were all up and about\nhim, very curious.\n\n\"You come from afar off? You are not of this country? Whence then do you\ncome?\"\n\nGunnar said that he was from Norway. They had never heard of Norway. One\nof them said that he had lived all his days in the forest country and\nhad never seen a stranger before.\n\nGunnar pointed to the West. Norway, he said, lay over there, beyond the\nmountains. They replied that he must be mistaken, because on the level\nof the mountains was a great lake of snow and water in which the sun\ndropped every night and was quenched with a furious hissing. They said\nthat you could hear it when the wind came that way, and that the\nmountain-tops were covered with steam thrown up by the dying sun, which\nsometimes stayed there for days at a time.\n\n\"And yet,\" Gunnar said, \"every day the sun comes up again. How do you\naccount for that?\"\n\nThey said that was easy to understand; for the lake had no bottom.\nTherefore the sun dropped through, and when it had emerged kindled again\nupon its flight through the air. And this went on for ever.\n\nGunnar said, \"You tell me marvellous things. Now let me tell you some.\"\nSo he spoke of Norway and Iceland, and of the great ocean beyond Orkney;\nand of Ireland, and the poets and holy men there. Then he went on to\ntalk of the inland sea where there were no tides, but only rushing\ncurrents, and whirlpools and desperate storms. Lastly he spoke of\nMicklegarth and of a sea beyond that again, which is called the Black\nSea, and of the terrible folding rocks which are on the edge of that.\nTo all of this they listened with open mouths.\n\nWhen they inquired what had brought him into Sweden he frankly told them\nhow it was. They said that he was safe enough here, and that nobody\nwould do him any harm. \"Few men fight here,\" they said. \"The worst that\nmay happen to you is that you will go into the cage and be offered up to\nFrey. But that is reckoned an honourable way of death. You serve Frey,\nand you serve Frey's people, and you may be sure that Frey won't forget\nit.\"\n\n\"It may be true,\" Gunnar said, \"that Frey won't forget me, but we know\nvery little about Frey, never having seen him at any time; and for my\npart I should not care to risk it.\"\n\nThey all looked at him in wonder. \"But,\" said one of them, \"everybody\nhas seen Frey.\"\n\n\"I assure you,\" said Gunnar, \"that I have not--for one. And I'll answer\nfor every man in Norway.\"\n\n\"We know nothing of the Norwegians, of whom we hear for the first time,\"\nhe was told; \"but the people of this part have good reason to know Frey,\nand to fear him, seeing he lives among them, and is now a day's and\nnight's journey from here. I myself,\" the speaker said, \"saw him but\nfourteen days ago, in his holy place.\"\n\n\"What is his holy place?\"\n\nThe man said, \"It is his temple where he lives when he is not upon his\nrounds. All the winter he lives there with his wife, and the people\nworship him and make feasts for him. But when the winter is over, and\nthe rains come to wash the world clean for the sun, Frey goes off in his\nwagon and visits all the villages in turn, and blesses the grain and\nmakes it fertile. That is how the world goes on, and men get food for\ntheir pains.\"\n\nGunnar was amazed. \"Do you say that Frey has a wife?\"\n\n\"I do say so, since it is true. But as yet she is not fruitful, which\nvexes Frey.\"\n\n\"Let Frey consider himself,\" said Gunnar. \"It is not always a wife's\nfault if she is not fruitful.\"\n\n\"You may be sure that the fault is not Frey's,\" they said.\n\n\"I am not at all so sure,\" said Gunnar. \"Does Frey do his duty by her?\"\n\nThey said, \"For certain he does. He has been married to her these two\nyears.\"\n\n\"There's time yet,\" said Gunnar; \"these are early days. Is she a young\nwoman?\"\n\n\"She is in the flower of her age. She must be sixteen years old.\"\n\n\"And is she of this country?\"\n\n\"It is not certainly known. A woman from the South had her. She said\nthat her husband had been slain on the sea-coast; but no one here can\nsay anything of it because no one has ever seen the sea. Well, when the\ngirl was of marriageable age Frey chose her; so she was given him.\"\n\n\"And how did Frey choose her?\"\n\n\"He took her.\"\n\nGunnar thought all this very remarkable, and said that he should himself\ngo to see Frey. They answered to that, that undoubtedly he would; for if\nhe did not they would be bound to take him, as an offering, since that\nwas Frey's pleasure.\n\n\"Does Frey demand human sacrifice?\" Gunnar asked. They said that he did.\n\nGunnar said, \"He shall be baulked of me; but I have a very handsome\ncloak about me, which I shall give him as a present if he pleases to be\nbenevolent to me.\"\n\n\"All depends upon his wife,\" they told him. \"She has the power of choice\nin these matters.\" Gunnar said, \"Leave me to deal with Frey's wife. I\nhave a way with women.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nGUNNAR MEETS WITH FREY. CONCERNING FREY'S WIFE\n\n\nDirected by the charcoal-burners, Gunnar made his way to the village\nwhere he was to find Frey in his temple. He reached a fine clearing in\nthe forest by the late afternoon, and was soon remarked and almost as\nsoon beset by the inhabitants. Young and old, mostly women, they came\nabout him like a cloud of gnats. They were a wild, dark-haired and pale\npeople, well-made but not tall. They were all barefoot, and had fierce,\nhusky voices; but they were harmless, touching him by the prompting of\ncuriosity, and delight in a thing so rare. His beard especially moved\nthem. They must by all means touch that. \"It is like Frey's beard. He\nis Frey's brother. Bring him to Frey then.\" So they spoke to each other.\nAs they came into the village they formed a kind of procession. A young\nwoman took him by either hand; children danced in front of him singing a\nshrill song; the older ones shuffled behind. Dogs capered and barked\nabout.\n\nWooden houses built clear of the ground on piles formed the village. It\nwas full of dogs and children, with one or two old men peering at the\nentry from the shelter of trees. He saw the roof of Frey's temple, a\nlong building with a steep gable. The roof was of heather. They entered\na forecourt and stood before the temple. In the midst was an altar of\nstone. There was a gallery to the house sheltered by the eaves of it,\nand held up by trunks of trees, smoothed and painted with zigzags in\nred, blue and yellow. A curtain hung over the doorway. He saw neither\nFrey nor his wife.\n\nThe women who had conducted him sat upon their heels and began their\nsong again. The rest of the village crowded the entry of the court. When\nthey had sung for some time, the curtains of the doorway moved; Gunnar\nthought that he saw the outline of a shoulder, and then was positive\nthat a hand was at the opening. He could not answer for it, but he\nfancied that he was being looked at.\n\nIn the meantime the crowd began to draw away from him and to form two\ncompanies, one on each side. He found himself standing alone, and\nlooking presently round, saw an old bearded man coming towards him with\na long bare knife in his hand. He had glittering eyes and a determined\nexpression. \"This old man is going to shed blood,\" said Gunnar to\nhimself. \"He chooses for mine, but there are two parties to a bargaining\nof that sort.\"\n\nThe old man, being now beside him, produced from the bosom of his gown\na coil of cord. \"He will truss me like a fowl,\" said Gunnar; then he\ngreeted the man fairly, giving him the time of day.\n\n\"You are welcome,\" said the old man. \"It is the hour of the evening\nsacrifice.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\" Gunnar answered. \"I hope you don't take me for your\noffering. I have not escaped one kind of death to fall into another.\"\n\n\"Frey must be contented,\" said the old man.\n\n\"He shall be,\" Gunnar said; \"I will give him my cloak.\"\n\nHe opened his pack, and brought out the famous cloak. Shaking out the\nfolds of it, he put it on and displayed it. The assembly murmured\napplause; even the old knifer was moved.\n\n\"I have brought this cloak as a gift for Frey,\" said Gunnar. \"Set open\nthe temple; let him show himself and he shall have it. It will last him\nlonger than a blood-offering, which is a beastly thing not at all\nsuitable to a great God. In my country we serve Frey--or we did once\nupon a time--but not with men's blood. Oxen and sheep are pleasing to\nhim; dogs also and hens. But he has other uses for men.\"\n\nThe old man was fingering the cloak. The gold work on the back was a\ndelight and wonder to him.\n\n\"Frey has never had so much gold as this. You are fortunately come. He\nshall have the cloak and you too.\"\n\n\"You are mistaken,\" said Gunnar. \"But in order to make sure, I will go\nand ask him.\"\n\nWith these words he stepped sharply forward and went up the steps to the\ntemple before any one could stop him. The curtains opened and a young\nwoman came out and stood before them, closing them behind her.\n\nShe was frightened, but bore herself with great dignity. She could not\ncheck the shortness of her breath, however; nor the scare in her eyes.\nShe was not tall, and she was very young; she was dressed in blue which\nhad red embroidery round the neck. Her black hair was plaited, and on\nher head she had a double band of gold wire with thin leaves of flat\ngold between the wires. Gunnar saw that she was a very pretty girl, and\nthought that he could deal with her if he had the chance.\n\nHe saluted her civilly and told her what was the matter. \"This old man\nwishes to cut my throat,\" he told her, \"and I, on the other hand, am\nstrongly against it. I have come to appeal to you or to Frey against\nsuch a breach of hospitality.\"\n\nShe did not answer him at first; but her eyes were upon his own, and her\nlips moved as if she was uncertain what to say.\n\nPresently she said, \"Who are you, and whence do you come?\"\n\nHe said, \"My name is Gunnar Helming, and I am from Norway over the\nmountains of the West. I am outland-faring as you see, and have no\nfriends in these parts, unless you are inclined to be one.\"\n\nShe hesitated, but had already made up her mind. \"I will send the people\naway,\" she said, \"and then we will ask Frey.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"I am sure that Frey will be guided by you\"; but she had\nnot waited to listen to that, being already down the steps and among the\npeople.\n\n\"There can be no blood-sacrifice of this man,\" she said to them, but not\nin Gunnar's hearing. \"This man is the friend of Frey, and it is lucky\nfor you, I can tell you, that you have not shed his blood. I was just in\ntime to prevent a dreadful thing which Frey would never have forgiven\nyou. Now you must go away and leave the two together. They have not met\nfor a long time, and have a great deal to tell each other.\" With that\nthey dispersed, and Frey's wife came back to Gunnar.\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"we must see Frey.\"\n\n\"I am going to offer him this cloak which I am wearing. It is very fine,\nas you see.\"\n\nShe touched the gold, and then took one of the sable tails in her hand.\n\"It is beautiful,\" she said. \"Where did you get it?\"\n\n\"I had it from a great rascal,\" Gunner said, \"who made a pretext of it\nto do me the wrong which brings me here. I will tell you the tale if you\ncare to listen to it.\" She had fixed and considering eyes, and still\nheld the sable-tail. Then she said shortly, \"We must go in to Frey. Come\nwith me.\"\n\n\nFrey stood in the middle of the temple. He was a young man of Gunnar's\nheight and proportions. His beard was red and his hair was brown. He had\nstaring blue eyes, scarlet nostrils and a fixed smile. His lips also\nwere scarlet. On his head was a crown of golden oak-leaves and acorns.\nIn one hand he held a golden cone, like the fruit of a pine-tree, but\nmuch larger. In the other he had a staff which was tipped with a bud. He\nhad a green tunic upon him and red hose. His legs below the knees were\nbound in leather, and he was shod with soft leather dyed red. He himself\nwas made of wood and painted all over in colours brighter than life, but\nhis clothes were as real as yours or mine.\n\n\"So this is Frey,\" said Gunnar to himself with great astonishment. \"I\nwould rather have the friendship of his wife.\"\n\nThis wife of his did not take much notice of her husband, it seemed to\nhim. She drew a settle out a little way from the wall, and sat on it,\ninviting Gunnar to a seat beside her. \"Now tell me the tale,\" she said.\nSo he did.\n\nShe said, \"The man is not your enemy. Neither is the king. The man\nacted basely, but the king could not do otherwise than he did, for\nappearances were against you. But I see that you are an unlucky man,\nbecause Frey has no liking for you.\"\n\n\"How can you say that?\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"I can tell by the look of him. He will not say anything. It is not his\nway. But he is no friend to you.\"\n\n\"If I give him my cloak,\" said Gunnar, \"he may think better of me.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I doubt it. But certainly he must have it. There is\nno other way. Besides, when the people see that he has accepted your\ncloak they at least will be contented.\"\n\nGunnar gave her the cloak, and she cast it over Frey's shoulder, and\ntouched his beard while she whispered to him what it was. In order to\nwhisper in his ear she had to stand tiptoe.\n\n\"Well,\" said Gunnar, \"and how does he take it?\"\n\n\"Very ill,\" she said.\n\n\"Then do you send me away?\"\n\nShe hung her head, and thought about it. \"No,\" she said, \"I can't do\nthat just yet. You shall stay here for three days, and maybe he will\nlike you better. I will talk to him about it to-night when we are in\nbed.\"\n\n\"Do you go to bed with Frey?\" he said in astonishment; but her own was\nequal to his.\n\n\"Where else should I go if I am his wife?\" she said. Then she grew red\nand turned away her face.\n\nGunnar said, \"I will ask you what your name is, Frey's wife. I can't\ncall you that for three days.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" she asked him, rather fiercely.\n\n\"Because it seems to me foolishness.\"\n\n\"I am called Sigrid,\" she said.\n\n\"Then I shall call you Sigrid,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTALK BETWEEN GUNNAR AND SIGRID\n\n\nGunnar was a friendly man and made himself pleasant about the place. He\nused to sit out in the sun and converse with the village people. He told\ntales to the children and played games with them. The old man who had\nbeen wishful to sacrifice him bore him no malice; but Gunnar told him\nplainly that he did not approve his practices. \"In my country, and in\nIceland also, there has been much devotion to Frey, who is a great God;\nbut human sacrifice is not required by him, nor are we profaned with it.\nPrisoners of war may not be used that way. We think it barbarous and\nabominable.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the old man said, \"it has always been the custom here. And you\nmust remember the services Frey performs. He is resting now. His work is\nover. But when the spring comes there will be no man in the country\nbusier than Frey. There is not a tilled field he must not visit; and the\ngrass-lands and the gravid sheep, and the lambs and sucklings of all\nsorts; the sick draught-animals; the ewes who are to go under the rams;\nthe bulling cows; the reindeer--well, you can see for yourself that he\nmust be propitiated. And how else, pray, would you have it done?\"\n\n\"The Christians, who are to the fore in Norway just now,\" replied\nGunnar, \"have a God who has given them another law altogether. Their God\nhad a Son Who said to His Father, 'Enough of these human sacrifices. I\ndetest them and will have nothing to say to them.' 'What will you do\nthen?' his Father asked. 'Why,' said He, 'I will be made man myself. I\nwill be born of a woman, and put to death. That will be a sufficient\nsacrifice for every one in the world.' And so it was, they say, and\ntheir God accepted it as sufficient. But the Christians have a strange\npower which is resident in their priests; and that is, that the priest\ndoes sacrifice every day, and makes anew the Son of God into a man of\nbody and blood. Every day he offers it on the altar. So the prime\nsacrifice is every day renewed, and all goes well. That is what they\nsay.\"\n\nThe old man was very much astonished. \"You are speaking of marvellous\nthings,\" he said. \"It is the way of you travellers. But I do not believe\nthat the Swedes would be content with such a sacrifice, and I am sure\nthat Frey would not.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" Gunnar said, but said no more at the time. He was\ndetermined that while he remained in Frey's house Frey would go without\nhuman blood upon his altar-stone.\n\nSigrid liked him to be there. She found him very good company. He made\nher laugh, which Frey, she said, had never done yet. \"He will though,\"\nGunnar told her, but she shook her head.\n\nAt the end of three days, he asked her what he was to do about staying\non. They sat together under the gallery outside the house. Frey was\ninside behind his curtains. It was the hour before the sacrifice, when\nhis curtains would be opened, and himself shown in his fine new cloak.\nSo far there had been no attempt made to sacrifice a man or child, which\nGunnar was glad of, because he was not yet sure enough of his footing.\n\nShe frowned and nursed her chin. \"Why,\" she said, \"I don't know what is\nto be done. Frey doesn't like you at all; I can see that.\"\n\n\"Have you talked it over with him as you promised me?\" She nodded her\nhead.\n\n\"And what did he say?\" She looked away as she answered him.\n\n\"He said very little; but he was very stiff.\"\n\n\"I should think he was always rather stiff,\" Gunnar said, and she\nfrowned and grew red.\n\n\"But what do you feel about it yourself?\" said Gunnar. \"I believe that\nyou find me well enough.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Yes, I do. I like you to be here. You make me laugh. I feel\nyounger than I did.\"\n\n\"That is good news,\" said Gunnar. \"I understand that you are sixteen\nyears old. Do you now feel that you are twelve?\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Sometimes I do.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gunnar, \"keep me here a month or two longer and I shall\nrock you in your cradle.\"\n\nShe considered whether he was laughing at her, and then asked him\nsuddenly, was he married, had he children?\n\n\"No, sweetheart,\" he said, \"but I should like a wife very well if I\ncould get one to my mind.\"\n\nNow she reproved him. \"You must not say that. I am not to be called so.\"\n\n\"Why, what is the harm in that?\" he said. \"It's what I used to call\nSorrel, my mare.\"\n\n\"It may be so,\" she replied, \"but I am not your mare.\"\n\n\"No indeed,\" he said. \"But what then shall I call you? Shall I say\n'Pretty one' or 'Kind lass'?\"\n\n\"No. Frey would dislike it.\"\n\n\"But,\" he said, \"all these names are true of you.\"\n\nShe said, \"Frey will like them all the less.\"\n\nGunnar said that he would risk it. And certain it is that he did, and\nthat she said nothing more about it.\n\nShe decided that he should stay on until the winter feasts began. \"And\nthen we will see what can be done. Maybe he will be more used to you by\nthen.\"\n\n\"Oh, as for him,\" Gunnar said lightly, \"he has had a fine cloak from\nme, and I suppose that is enough.\"\n\nShe frowned, and tossed her foot. \"You don't know Frey yet.\"\n\nThen came the hour of sacrifice and a leading-in of sick animals to be\nblessed by Frey. Gunnar was very useful here, for he was skilled in\nfarriery, and could do much too with sheep and cattle. They called him\nthe new priest of Frey, and held him in great honour. But the more that\nthey thought of Frey on his account the less, naturally, Gunnar thought\nof him on his own. He did not now believe that even a devil resided in\nhim, or found it difficult of belief. Frey had the appearance of\nfrowning sometimes, and sometimes there seemed to be a red flame in his\neyes. Another thing he could do with his eyes: he could cause them to\nfollow you all over the room. Those eyes of his were for ever upon\nGunnar and Sigrid so that they used to say to each other, \"We can't\ntalk here. Let us go into the gallery.\" She never said, \"Let us go into\nthe chamber,\" and it never entered Gunnar's mind to propose it. But it\nhad entered into hers.\n\nGunnar, however, began to dislike Frey. He despised him, and yet found\nthat added to his dislike. He told himself that Sigrid's marriage was a\nblack shame.\n\nAfter he had been with her a while she told him what she knew about\nherself. She had never known her father, nor even what his name was. Her\nmother had been called Sea-child; and Sigrid remembered being carried on\nher back, slung in a shawl. Her mother had had black hair and yellow\neyes which looked black in the dark, and as pale as the palest amber in\nstrong light. She was rather tall, whereas Sigrid--who also had black\nhair and amber eyes, though of a darker tint--was a little woman. She\nthought that she remembered her mother saying that they had crossed the\nsea; and that somebody, her mother or an old man who used to be with\nthem sometimes, had spoken of a city called Prag. She thought that this\nmust be true, because she had never heard anybody in Sweden speak of\nPrag, and doubted she could have made up the name for herself. Gunnar\ntold her that she had not. \"There is a city called Prag, on a mighty\nriver. I have seen the river,\" he said, \"but not the city of Prag.\"\n\nWell then she told him that the Swedes had ill-treated the old man who\nused to be with them. They had put him into an osier basket, and pierced\nthat through and through with swords; she remembered the bright blood\nwelling out between the plaited wicker. That had been done upon the\naltar of a God--she believed it was Frey. As for her mother, some man\nhad taken her to live in his house, and she herself had lain about with\nthe cattle, and had been sent to keep swine in the woods. Nobody had\nhurt her, but she had gone in terror of wolves, which in winter were\ndangerous, and came sometimes into the villages and carried off children\nfrom the doorways. They were so hungry that even when they were beaten\noff they only ran to a little distance, and then came back again to\nsnuff about for what there might be in their way.\n\nThen she remembered a day when her mother brought her into the house,\nand took off her rags, and put a new gown on her. She twisted up her\nhair into a long plait, and made her see if she could still sit upon it.\nThat was easy. After that she was kept at home with the children of the\nhouse; and men used to take notice of her, kiss her and take her on\ntheir knees. She had liked that for a time, because she liked people who\nwere kind and friendly; but there was too much of it, and she used to\nrun away and hide herself.\n\nThere had been a lad, she said, called Tostig, belonging to the\nhousehold of her mother's husband. He had been in love with her, she\nsupposed. At any rate he was always in her company, and she had liked\nhim very well. One day when they were all in the temple before Frey,\nwith garlands of flowers, his eyes had burned fiercely, and by and by he\nfell forward upon Tostig and knocked him down. They picked up Frey; and\nthe priests said that Tostig was to be sacrificed. That was done. They\nput him in an osier basket and transpierced it with their swords. After\nthat Frey's eyes were cool and steady, and nothing more occurred until\nthe following spring when Frey was to have started on his rounds to\nbless the vegetation. Then again when they were in the temple his eyes\nburned, and again he fell, this time upon herself. She was thrown\nbackwards and Frey upon her. Then she believed that her last hour was at\nhand; but her mother was shrill and urgent with the priests, calling\nthem fools. She said that Frey had been jealous of Tostig and fell upon\nhim on that account; but he fell upon Sigrid for no reason of that sort,\nbut to mark her for his own. Sigrid, she said, was now marriageable.\nFrey wanted to marry her, and to disoblige him would be at their peril.\nThere was high debate about all this, and other priests from other\nvillages were called in. Frey was asked, and they say that he nodded his\nhead. She herself was not asked; but she was taken into the temple one\nnight by her mother and told what she would have to do. On the next day\nwas the wedding and great rejoicings all over the forest country.\n\nGunnar stopped her here. \"They married you to that block of painted\nwood?\"\n\nShe said, \"They married me to Frey.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"But----\" and then he stopped short himself. \"There is no\nmore to be said.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"that is the end of it. We set out in the ox-wagon soon\nafter that.\"\n\n\"How long ago was this?\" he asked her.\n\nShe replied, \"I was marriageable, my mother said. I don't know when it\nwas.\" Then she thought aloud. \"One, two, three--yes, it was three\nsprings ago last spring.\"\n\n\"And you say you are sixteen years old.\"\n\n\"I don't say so,\" she replied; \"the people here say so. My mother died\ntwo springs ago when I was away with Frey on his rounds.\"\n\nGunnar got up from the bench where they were sitting. \"Wait here for\nme,\" he said, and went into the temple, folding the curtains behind him.\nThere stood Frey, crowned and standing, with his shining scarlet\nnostrils. Gunnar went up to him and took him by the nose. \"God or\ndevil,\" he said, \"I'll get this out of joint before I've done with you,\nor you with Gunnar.\" Frey rocked under the force of his passion, but\nsaid nothing.\n\nGunnar came back and found Sigrid where she was. She did not look up.\nHe stretched out his hands towards her, then dropped them and began to\nwhistle a tune.\n\nThat made her look up smiling. \"You seem in good spirits,\" she said.\n\n\"I feel considerably better than I did,\" he told her, \"but there is much\nto do before I am perfectly myself again.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nGUNNAR TURNS FREY ABOUT AGAINST FREY'S WILL\n\n\nSigrid told Gunnar that the old priest of Frey who lived in the village,\nand who had been the man wishful to slay him on the altar, intended to\nhave a sacrifice on the morrow. \"Oh, does he so?\" said Gunnar. \"And what\nis he going to sacrifice?\"\n\nShe said, \"It is a boy.\"\n\n\"We will see about that,\" Gunnar said. \"It may be that it will be\nhimself who gets the worst of it.\"\n\n\nThe next day, before the hour of sacrifice, Gunnar told Sigrid to go\ninto the court and leave him to draw the curtains. She did as she was\ntold. The people assembled, and he heard their singing, and the stamping\nof their feet as they danced about the victim. Then they all called on\nFrey, and he peeped through the curtains and saw the old man in a crown\nof leaves, with his knife in his hand, and the victim naked except for a\nloin-cloth, bound up tightly with cords. There also was the basket of\nosier. Having done what he wished to do in the temple, he drew the\ncurtains. To their great consternation they saw that Frey had his back\nto them instead of his face. Gunnar, who had come out by a side door,\njoined Sigrid in the gallery of the temple. They sat close together\nlooking at the amazed people.\n\nThe old man gave a shrill cry. \"Frey abandons us! He is angry.\" Then he\nturned to his flock and spoke vehemently, but Gunnar could not hear his\nwords. Sigrid watched them with keen and bitter eyes.\n\nPresently the old man turned again and beckoned to Gunnar. He, however,\nsat where he was. Then he was hailed by his enemy. \"You, stranger, come\ndown.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"I am a servant of the temple, and will not come down. Do\nyou come up rather and say what you have to say.\"\n\nThe old man then came shuffling up, with his gown dragging at his\nankles. When he stood before Gunnar, he was out of breath, and that\nadded to his rage.\n\nGunnar asked him what the matter was, and Whitebeard gnashed his gums\ntogether.\n\n\"The matter is that Frey is angry--not because of sacrifice, but because\nthere has been none since you came here. There must be much more blood\nshed--and the sooner the better.\"\n\n\"I assure you,\" Gunnar replied, \"that there will be bloodshed if you\npersist, and that blood will be your own.\"\n\nWhitebeard looked fiercely at him. \"You are talking foolishly. Who would\nshed my blood? And how would that be pleasing to my master Frey?\"\n\nGunnar replied, \"I will tell you the answer to your questions. To your\nfirst: I would very willingly shed your blood, and your blood is the\nonly blood that I would willingly shed. And I believe that all these\npeople would dip their hands in it and show it to Frey, who would then\nturn his face to them again. As for your second, it is plain that Frey\nis displeased with your present sacrifice.\"\n\nWhitebeard was in a great rage. He put his face close to Gunnar's and\nsaid whispering (but Sigrid heard him), \"It was you who turned Frey\nabout.\"\n\n\"It was,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"You own to your blasphemy. For blasphemy it is, though you said\nnothing.\"\n\n\"Take it so,\" said Gunnar.\n\nThe old man looked about him, not knowing what to do next. His eyes fell\nupon Sigrid, who stood stiffly by with fixed looks.\n\n\"Mistress,\" he said then, \"Frey's wife, what say you?\" She shivered.\n\n\"There must be no sacrifice,\" she said. \"Frey will not have it.\"\n\n\"But you heard this man tell me that he turned Frey about?\"\n\n\"I did,\" she said. \"He did so at my desire.\"\n\n\"You own yourself party to his wicked mind?\"\n\n\"His mind is the mind of Frey in this,\" she said.\n\nThe old man frowned deeply. \"You avow that?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Did Frey confide it to you?\"\n\n\"He did.\"\n\n\"When this man Gunnar was not there?\"\n\n\"He was not there.\"\n\nThe old man tossed his arms up. \"There is no more to say.\"\n\nThen Gunnar, even while his enemy stood by him, addressed the people.\nHe said, \"I come from a distant country, where Frey has been had in\nhonour, but not in your way. Your way is beastliness and great shame to\nyou because you read into the mind of the God what is the secret\npleasure of the vilest of you, such as this old toothless man here. He,\nloving to see men's blood flow, believes that Frey takes joy in it also.\nBut Frey knows very well that a man is better than a beast, and if he\nlove the smell of beasts' blood, that is his affair, but the blood of\nmen is more honourable than that, and reserved for better work. He says\nthat I put into the mind of Frey to be done with the slaughter of men.\nHave it that I did; did I not well to bring his mind to what is\nexcellent in men? Of what use to Frey, or what pleasure can he have in\nthe blood of base or craven men? I said that I would shed the blood of\nthis vile old man, and so I would if I thought that Frey would be the\nbetter of it. But the fact is that it would make the ground sick, and\nFrey would curse you for the gift. Have done with that, and be sure that\nFrey does not need blood at all, but honesty and the good works of your\nhands. If you have children, offer them to Frey, but alive, not dead.\nShed marrow rather than blood, and Frey will approve your fruitfulness\nand bless the seed and the seed-plot. And if blood must be shed, let\nFrey shed his own for you, as the God of the Christians did, Who gives\nHis people every day His body to eat and His blood to drink--which turn\nin their breasts to milk and in their veins to courage. Let Frey show\nhimself such a God, and you will have no need for lascivious-minded old\nmen to lead you into their own nasty vices.\" Then turning to Whitebeard,\nhe said, \"Get you gone, old monster, and gnash your gums apart where\nnone can see your impotent malice.\"\n\nThe people applauded him when he had done. Some brought branches of\ntrees, and some nests of eggs to Frey. Then Gunnar turned him round to\nface them, and they rejoiced.\n\nBut Sigrid was pale and trembling, and would not look at Gunnar or speak\nto him all the rest of the day. She stood about by Frey, and put her\nhand in his, and talked to him, sometimes touching his beard.\n\nGunnar made the best of it, and let her alone; but seeing her next day\nin the same mood of alienation, he asked her what the matter was, and\n\"Is there anything I can do about it?\" She began to tremble again, and\nviolently; but she used all her force to control herself, and presently\ntold him that all he could do was to leave the place. \"If you seek my\nhappiness,\" she said, \"that is what you will do.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gunnar, \"I do wish you happy, sweetheart.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said she, \"it is your sweethearting of me that has made this\ntrouble.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said again, \"and it does make trouble, my dear; but it is a\npleasant trouble when all's said; and there's a remedy for it.\"\n\n\"It is that which I desire,\" she said, and he said, \"So do I desire it.\"\n\nThen she said, \"Do you know what you did yesterday? You made me untrue\nto Frey.\"\n\n\"How so?\"\n\n\"Why, you drove me to say what was untrue. He did not speak his mind to\nme. That is not true. Or if he did, what he said was quite otherwise.\"\n\n\"You mean,\" said Gunnar, \"that the mind of Frey, as you understand it,\nis not my mind.\"\n\n\"Certainly it is not,\" she said. \"He hates you. He does not rest because\nof you.\"\n\nGunnar looked at her. \"You mean, I believe, that you do not rest.\"\n\nShe stamped her foot. \"It is the same thing. If he does not rest, how\ncan I rest?\"\n\nGunnar said, \"It is not at all the same thing. And do you think you\nwould rest better if I went away?\"\n\nShe shook her head, but did not speak. He saw that she was crying.\n\n\"Well,\" said he after a while, \"then I shall not go, but will stay here\nand make Frey a little more friendly.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" she said in her tears, \"you won't do that. He is jealous of you.\nYou can see it.\"\n\n\"I see nothing of it, I assure you,\" Gunnar said, \"and he has no cause.\nBut there are many ways of curing jealousy, one of which is easy.\" She\nwaited to hear what it was, but without asking. She wanted to know very\nbadly, but Gunnar did not tell her what it was. So after a while of\nwaiting she said, \"You are hateful; I hate you,\" and walked away. Gunnar\nwent out into the sun; and by and by she came back with needlework and\nsat where she could see him at his business of tending the\ntemple-garth; but she would not speak to him for the rest of the day.\n\n\nThe season wore to the winter. With the first snow and the fall of the\nleaf men began to make ready for the winter feasts. There was now no\nquestion of Gunnar going. No man could travel that country in the winter\nwhen the days are but a few hours long, and the snow is deep and bends\nthe trees to the earth. Gunnar, who did not want to go at all, put it\njokingly to Sigrid that perhaps the god of the wolves wanted a human\nsacrifice, and that perhaps it was himself they wanted. She showed him\nher eyes full of trouble, and he was touched.\n\n\"You don't wish me to say that?\"\n\nShe said, \"I cannot bear you to talk lightly of such things.\"\n\n\"Frey would be glad of such a sacrifice, I am thinking.\"\n\nShe left him instantly and went to Frey. But she soon came back again.\nShe was never long away from where he happened to be.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE WINTER FEASTS\n\n\nThe custom of the winter, when no man could work, was to make merry with\nwhat you had gained in the summer. Men killed pigs and sheep, and drank\ntheir mead out of horns. This was the time for skalds and story-tellers.\n\nBut the village where Gunnar was now settled was a holy village, because\nof Frey's house. It was proper that no feast should be held unless Frey\nwere present at it. He was carried from homestead to homestead; and\nwhere he was there was Sigrid his wife, and there now was Gunnar also.\nThose three always sat on the dais with the giver of the feast, and when\nthe tables were ready they had the chief seats. Sigrid was waited upon\nas if she had been a man, and great respect was shown her, which she\nsullenly received. Once she had told Gunnar that she disliked being\nnoticed. She had said that she had been happiest in her days when she\nwas keeping pigs in the forest; and he had said that he understood that\nvery well. Now he put that down as the reason why she had a hang-dog\nlook at these merry-makings, ate little, drank less, said little and\nlaughed not at all. When the drinking began she always left the hall and\nsat with the women in the bower. Frey was left--and then it was that\nGunnar in his cups used to take liberties with Frey--to clap a clout\nover one of his eyes, or stick an apple on a spike of his crown. He was\nwary how he played these tricks, for in some company it would have been\ntaken very ill; but in some, and when men were far disguised in drink,\nhis japes went well enough, and gave him satisfaction.\n\nHe was by now entirely out of conceit with Frey. That a god should be\nthroned in the world he sincerely believed--and could swear to a hundred\nor more; but that one should be caged in a painted block he did not\nbelieve. As for his marriage, that made the hairs on his back bristle,\nand his neck to swell. A good deal of talk went on when Sigrid was gone\nwith the women. He listened to it and raged, but outwardly he was still,\nand found nothing to say. The people expected--or some of them--that\nSigrid would bring Frey a child. Some said that she had miscarried; none\nthought it unlikely. Things were said and tales were told of Frey which\namazed him while they made him angry. \"At this rate,\" he said to\nhimself, \"I shall be an atheist or a Christian. Would that King Olaf\ncould hear me say so. He would countermand his rope and make me one of\nhis household.\"\n\nThen he found out that it interested him more to hear tales of Sigrid\nthan it disgusted him; and he said to himself then, \"Frey and I shall\nbe fighting for Sigrid one of these days. I learn that I am in love with\nher.\" But he knew that it would be a shame to tell her so, and resolved\nthat she should learn nothing about it.\n\n\nThere was never a merrier winter in that village, and never a man more\nbeloved than Gunnar was. He was no skald, but his tales were without\nend, and so were his jokes. He had had his share of travel, and now they\nhad their portion in it. He told them of Micklegarth and of the great\nKing of the Greeks. He said that there was a temple there dedicated to\ndivine wisdom, which was a paragon and wonder of the world. The King did\nsacrifice there every day to his god--and there was nothing in the\ntemple less precious than gold. He spoke of that other Garth in the\nNorth, a Russian city, which was envious of the Greek kingdom, and\nwishful to rival it. Then of Frey's worship he had something to say. In\nIceland he said Frey was worshipped, and there had been a priest of his\nthere called Ravenkeld, who had not only built a house for him with five\nor six images of Frey set round in a circle, but had had a famous\nstallion which he shared with the god. No one but Ravenkeld or Frey\nmight ride this horse, which also had a stud of twelve mares for his own\nuse and pleasure. Ravenkeld had made a vow that he would have the life\nof any man who should ride the horse; and he kept it though it cost him\nall that he had. For once there came to him a certain man called\nThoreir, wishful to serve him. Ravenkeld made a shepherd of him, and set\nhim also to keep guard over Frey's horse and his mares, warning him of\nthe vow he had made. Then on a day thirty sheep were lost and Thoreir\nmust ride far to find them. Never a mare of the twelve could he come\nnear, but Frey's horse stood; so he saddled him and rode him all day.\nRavenkeld came to know about it and went out to find Thoreir, who was\nlying on the stone wall, counting his sheep over. \"How came you to ride\nmy horse,\" said Ravenkeld, \"when I warned you to ride any other but\nhim?\" Thoreir told him how it was. Then Ravenkeld said, \"I am sorry, but\nwe make vows one day and find them heavy another.\" Then he drove his\nspear through his back and slew him. He paid for doing that, for he was\noutlawed by Thoreir's kindred at the Thing, and they came upon him\nunawares, and pierced his legs at the tendons of the knees and hung him\nup by them for a day. When they came to take him down the blood was in\nhis eyes and he was as near dead as might be. Then they banished him\nwith hardly any money or goods; but yet he prospered and got his own\nback again. But when he was restored to his ease and wealth he said that\nhe had no opinion of Frey at all, and would have no more to do with him.\nHe broke up the images and turned the god's house into a byre for his\ncows, and had no religion thereafter that ever Gunnar heard tell of.\n\"And that,\" he said, \"is the way of men. They make a god first and\nunmake him afterwards--and all that is foolishness.\"\n\nBut they said, \"How can that be when we know very well what Frey here\ndoes for us, sending the rain in proper time upon the earth?\"\n\n\"Now tell me this,\" said Gunnar; \"do you pray to Frey for rain when the\nwind is in the east?\"\n\n\"We do not,\" they said, \"for that would be waste of breath.\"\n\n\"So it would,\" said Gunnar, \"and so also if the wind blow from the\nsouth. For then the rain will come of itself.\"\n\n\"That would be Frey's doing, we hold,\" said they. Then Gunnar smiled.\n\"You are lucky,\" he said, \"and so is Frey.\"\n\n\nThey always took Frey back after the feasts, two or three men bearing\nhim up between them; and many a tumble they had in the snowdrifts, if\nthey were not very surefooted, through drink or otherwise. One night\nwhen they had some way to go Gunnar picked up Sigrid and carried her\nthrough the worst of the drifts.\n\n\"Oh, you should not, you should not,\" she said; but he laughed. \"You are\nso small a thing,\" he said, \"it would be a shame.\"\n\nBut she hid her face in his shoulder and said again that he should not\ncarry her. He had a great mind to kiss her, but he did not do it just\nthen.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"let your husband carry you.\" And he called out, \"Hi\nyou, Frey, come and carry Sigrid through the snow.\"\n\nBut just then Frey and his bearers were all rolling in the snow\ntogether. \"You see how it is with poor Frey,\" Gunnar said. \"He has had\ntoo much to drink and can't carry himself, so what would he do if he\nhad you too?\"\n\nAfter that he got into the way of carrying her, and she grew accustomed\nto it, looked for it, and held her arms out for him to lift her when\nthey came out of the feast.\n\nGunnar enjoyed himself, but did not tell her so, or speak of it at all.\nHe took it as a thing of course that he should serve her, and she\naccepted it. But there was no love-making, even though the days were\ndark, and there was nothing to be done out of doors. He said to himself,\n\"She is Frey's wife, or believes herself so. I don't care a flick of the\nfingers for Frey, but for her I do care.\"\n\nThey were thrown very much together, and found nothing amiss with that.\nGunnar talked to her of his travels and told her stories as they sat by\nthe fire. He had a happy way with him which made all people like him and\ngive him their confidence. He neither took liberties nor allowed them;\nbut if you were simple and gave yourself no airs he was very gentle and\ngood-humoured. Sigrid had no suspicions of him, nor need for any. He\nwould be incapable of doing her any harm. It was because he was afraid\nof making her unhappy that he left off teasing her about Frey. At first\nhe had been rather given to it, but he saw that she was troubled by it,\nand did not know what to say. Then he stopped his gibes and mockery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nFREY MAKES READY TO GO HIS ROUNDS\n\n\nBy slow degrees the winter wore away; the clouds broke up, and the thick\nsnow-fleece was pitted all over as if it had been a blanket which moths\nhad fretted. The days drew out longer; men looked up, feeling the sun;\nthe thatches began to drip, and then to run, and to dig for themselves\ndeep channels in the snow. Then began roof-slides by broad blocks at a\ntime, and a man might be buried in slush before he knew it.\n\nSigrid said that they must make ready Frey's wagon for the road, and\ntold Gunnar where it was stored and asked him to fetch it out. As soon\nas the buds began to swell on the trees they must be off. Gunnar was\nglad of some work, and soon had the wagon out of the shedding and haled\nit into the forecourt.\n\nThis wagon was a gaudy affair, being painted all over in red, blue and\nyellow. The wheels were red and so was the pole. White oxen drew it,\nwhich had red trappings and brazen stars on their foreheads. Upright\npoles at the four corners of the wagon carried a wooden canopy, and held\nrods also for the curtains which shut Frey off from mortal eyes until\nsuch times as he would appear and, having been propitiated with\nofferings, suffer himself to be carried into the fields. These curtains\nSigrid was now busy over. They were green and had dragons, the sun, the\nmoon and stars, and runes also sewn upon them, of red and white colours.\nThe inside of the tent which these curtains made was a fair chamber. In\nthe forepart Frey stood when he was travelling; in the afterpart was his\nbed where he lay at night. But the parts were not divided off. There\nwas no bed-chamber for him as he had in his winter house. The men who\nwent with the wagon, and tended the oxen, must lie out in the open to\nsleep, or in the sacking slung beneath where the beast-fodder was\ncarried.\n\nGunnar thought that he would have no men to help him, and Sigrid said,\n\"Oh no, we want no others. With you to help all will go well.\"\n\n\"You trust me, I see,\" said Gunnar, and Sigrid looked at him with\nfriendly eyes.\n\n\"How should I not? Are you not the trustiest of men?\"\n\n\"If you were not so kind to me,\" he told her, \"perhaps I should not be\nso trusty. And it may be that we should both be the better for it. But I\nhave a soft heart, and you have found that out.\"\n\n\"I know nothing for your heart,\" she said. \"That is the last thing that\nI know about you.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Gunnar. \"Now tell me what you wish to be at with this\nwonderful affair.\"\n\nIt did not suit her very well just then to be talking of the wagon, so\nshe crossed her knee and clasped it with her hands. \"The heart of a man\nis like the snow just now, I think. It is quickly melted where the sun\nstrikes it or the rain falls upon it. It is easy to make a dint in it.\nBut below that there is ice. In small matters a man will be kind enough;\nbut there may be great matters which may break themselves to pieces\nagainst him before he will be moved.\"\n\nGunnar made no answer, but busied himself examining the wagon. He broke\na bubble of paint with his thumb, and said, \"Look at that now. There's\nbad workmanship for you.\"\n\n\"It is exactly the contrary with women,\" said Sigrid. \"A girl's heart is\nlike a spring which is guarded by overhanging snow and a thin film of\nice. The first thaw breaks that through, and the water wells up warm.\nBut the film, while it remains there, is respectable; for it denotes\nthat the spring beneath is to be guarded from defiling hands.\"\n\nGunnar was very busy. He ran his hand up and down the pole. \"The man who\npainted this machine,\" he said, \"was a botcher. He has never so much as\nplaned this pole. It is as rough as an earl's tongue. Just you feel it,\nsweetheart.\"\n\nShe was offended. \"If you don't care to listen to me, I don't care\neither to observe your wagon. It is a strange way to woo a sweetheart to\nhave her in contempt.\"\n\n\"My dear one,\" said Gunnar--and now he looked at her--\"it is true that\nyou know nothing of a man's heart, which moves him to do things rather\nthan to talk about them. And this wagon is not mine, but Frey's, and I\nam to work upon it by your desire.\"\n\nHer eyes filled with tears. \"Ah,\" she said, \"do I not know whose wagon\nit is? Is this a time to remind me of it?\" Gunnar looked quickly about\nhim. Nobody was by. So then he went to Sigrid, and put his hand on her\nshoulder.\n\n\"Don't cry, pretty one,\" he said, \"otherwise there will be the mischief\nbetween Frey and me.\" Then he kissed her; and that was the first time\nthat ever he did it, strange as it may appear. She sat very still, and\nall drawn up into a bunch, as if she felt chilly, which she did for a\nminute. Then she went into Frey's house and stayed there for a good\ntime. Gunnar shook his head, and went to fetch the tools that he needed\nfor cleaning the paint off the wagon.\n\n\nHe took a long time over it, and was very happy to be so busy. He\ncleaned off all the old paint, which was many coats thick, and smoothed\nthe wood to his fancy. Then he set to work with new colours and was at\nit many days from dawn to dusk. It began to look very splendid, with a\ngreen ground, and yellow wheels and pole, and with flowers, trees, birds\nand beasts upon all that in blue, red and white. He painted also the sky\nand the sun and rivers winding among meadows. Then he had the sea, with\nships upon it, because Sigrid did not know what the sea was like. And he\nwrote runes all round the panels of the wagon, sayings such as were\ncommon in his country, such as Bare is Back without Brother Behind it,\nand so on.\n\nSigrid was much the better for being kissed, though she was very careful\nnot to say so. She thought that Gunnar would not perceive it, but he\ndid. Her eyes were larger and softer; her colour was higher; she was\nquieter in her ways, not so restless, and certainly not so testy. She\nused to sit contentedly with her curtains while he worked at his\npainting, and could now admire what he did. She talked no more about the\ndifference between a man's heart and a woman's, perhaps because she knew\nmore. It was not hard to discern these changes in her.\n\n\n\"This wagon,\" said Gunnar, \"is a paragon. It is my masterpiece.\" The\ntime had come when all was done, even to the hangings of Frey's bed, and\nthe containing boards of the same.\n\n\"Now, sweetheart,\" said he, \"it is for you to consider whether we shall\nnot give your lord a lick of paint. To my eye he would be the better for\nit, but you know his fancy better than I do.\"\n\nShe said shortly, \"He is well enough.\" She could not bear his jokes\nabout Frey just now.\n\n\"He is not then,\" said Gunnar. \"He will look shabby in his new wagon.\nJust try him for yourself and see.\"\n\nShe was most unwilling, but yet she allowed him to put Frey up in the\nforepart of the wain.\n\n\"Look at him,\" said Gunnar. \"Look at the brown blur upon his neck; and\nsee how smeared his cheeks are. There is no shine left. To my thinking\nhe is failing in one eye. It is like the eye of a dead fish. There\nshould be new gilding on his cone. Strange how a new wagon shows him\nup.\"\n\nShe was not looking at Frey at all; but when Gunnar had him down in the\ncourt and was about to take his clothes off, she sprang forward with\nflaming cheeks and dangerous eyes. \"I dare you to touch him.\"\n\nGunnar stood. \"As you please,\" he said. \"It is nothing to me. Let him go\nbleary to his work.\"\n\nShe shifted about and paced the court uneasily. \"He is very well as he\nis. If anything is to be done to him I will do it.\"\n\n\"As you please,\" said Gunnar again, and left the court. He went out\ninto the forest where the birds were singing. He looked to see if any\nwere nesting yet, and was away three or four hours.\n\nWhen he came back Frey was in his house again, and he examined what\nSigrid had done. She had washed him; Gunnar thought he looked sadly\nbleached about the chaps, and there were flaws in his beard. His neck\nwas pinker. She had tried to repaint his right eye.\n\nWhile he was looking at Frey Sigrid came in. She was flushed, and\nprepared to be angry in a moment.\n\n\"I suppose you think I have made matters worse,\" she said.\n\n\"What do you think yourself?\" he asked her.\n\n\"He will do well enough,\" she answered. But he told her, \"You have not\nhelped his eye-works. He is looking two ways at once.\"\n\n\"It is what you would say.\"\n\n\"It is what I do say,\" he answered, \"because it is true.\"\n\n\"I know what you think of him,\" she cried out sharply. \"You have no need\nto tell me.\"\n\nGunnar replied: \"He looked shabby before, and in want of a lick; but you\nhave made him look like a boiled goose.\"\n\nSigrid was seriously vexed. She looked as if she was all over spines,\nlike a teasel. But the worst of it was, that she knew he was right, as\nwell as he did himself. Meantime Gunnar walked comfortably about, by and\nlarge, while she stood opening and shutting her hands.\n\n\"You are hard to please,\" she said at last, in a dry voice. \"Yet I do\nthink that I have mishandled his right eye. Perhaps you will mend it for\nme.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Gunnar, \"and for him too I will mend it, though he has no\nliking for me. Look at him, I ask you, from where you stand, and then\nfrom where I do. Whereas his eyes used to follow us about to see what\nwe were doing, now he sees nothing of us at all. Kindly look for\nyourself.\"\n\nShe did as he told her. She examined Frey very carefully from where she\nstood and then crossed the floor and stood by Gunnar, but looked at\nFrey.\n\n\"Well?\" said Gunnar.\n\nHer answer was not in words, but she looked up at Gunnar with a faint\nsmile. So then he kissed her again, and that kiss was a long one and\nlasted some time.\n\n\"Frey cannot see,\" she said presently, \"and it is my fault. Mend his eye\nfor me.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Gunnar, \"do you want him to see us?\"\n\nShe said, \"Not always--but sometimes it doesn't matter.\"\n\nGunnar said that he would put his eye right, and, more than that, he\nwould freshen him up altogether. He pointed out many flaws in his\npainting.\n\nSigrid was not in the mood to deny him anything just now. She agreed\nreadily, and was going away. But she came back again.\n\n\"Promise me one thing,\" she said.\n\n\"I will promise you a dozen things,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\"One only. It is that you will only paint what you can see.\"\n\nGunnar, who was very quick, said, \"I will obey you; but in that case you\nmust cover him in a blanket, lest I spoil his clothes.\"\n\nShe brought him a blanket, and left him. Gunnar put Frey's eye in order,\nand touched up his cheeks and scarlet nostrils for him. He sized the\ncone for gilding, and put a tinge more red into his beard.\n\nThen he looked at him with his head on one side and one eye shut. \"You\nare a fine figure of a god, Frey. We are something alike, I believe. But\nfor all that I see that you don't love me.\"\n\nHe was at the end of the room as he stood; but for all that Frey had\nhim in view, and looked furious.\n\n\nAfter that there was nothing to do but wait the moment when Frey should\nstart on his rounds.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nFREY STARTS ON HIS ROUNDS\n\n\nThe weather was mild and open when Frey set out in his wagon, and the\nroads were heavy. They plunged into the forest ways, where the tracks\nwere swimming in melting snow, and the air was rife with dripping trees.\nBut the birds were all awake, the buds were shining, there was spring in\nthe air. Gunnar walked beside the oxen and touched their necks now and\nthen with the nodding point of his switch; Frey kept his bed, and Sigrid\ntrudged beside Gunnar, heedless of the wet and mire. Sometimes she took\nhis hand, sometimes his arm; sometimes his arm supported her. She was\nvery happy, talked and laughed as she had never before.\n\nNow she could laugh at Frey, it seems. \"Frey is snoozing,\" she said.\n\"He doesn't see what we see.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Gunnar; \"but let him alone. He will have to work by and by.\nIt is no light matter to order the yearly affairs of the earth.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" she said. \"Besides, you have cut him off his\nblood-offerings which he loves.\"\n\n\"He will be all the better for that,\" Gunnar replied. \"Such food makes\nfat.\"\n\nThe first village which they reached received them with acclamations.\nChildren with flowers, women with their children, men with their women,\nwere there to receive them. They crowded the green track, they came\nflying through the forest on all sides. The oxen trudged over budded\nboughs and the first-born of flowers. The curtains of the forepart were\nopen. Sigrid sat in the wagon by the side of Frey, who shook on his\nperch. The people were frantic, and many tried to climb the cart that\nthey might touch Frey's new cloak, or kiss the budded staff in his hand.\nGunnar had all to do to keep them free of the wheels. The elders of the\nvillage were before the first house and turned when the wagon drew nigh\nto walk before it to the god-house. It was late by the time they had\nreached it and got Frey carried in; but there were torchlights\neverywhere flaring about like fiery serpents, and burning all the pools\nof water till they looked like melted gold.\n\nThey told of great sacrifice in the morning, a boy and girl who were but\njust mature, and a foreign woman who had been found lost and benighted\nin the time of snow. Then Gunnar made it plain to them that these things\nwere not to be. \"Frey,\" he said, \"utterly abhors this bloodshedding,\nwhich, if you persist in it, will fairly ruin your tillage of the year.\nI know what he will do, for he has done it already. He will turn his\nback upon your fields, and nothing will move him. Be warned therefore,\nbefore it is too late.\"\n\nThe people were dismayed, and many murmured. Then Gunnar said, \"Bring me\nyour victims, and I will show you the mind of Frey\"; which was done. The\nvictims, bound tightly with withy-bands, were set before him. With his\nknife Gunnar cut their bonds. \"You are free,\" he said, \"and no one dare\ntouch you, for Frey wills it. He will bless these fields, seeing that he\nhas blessed you, who are more to him than fields.\"\n\nSigrid, who was standing close by, now said, \"He speaks truly the mind\nof Frey, as I myself can testify.\"\n\nSo that year there were no bloody rites, but all other things were done\nas they had been from time out of mind. They carried Frey about their\nfields, and said prayers and sang his praises; and so they went on their\nway through the forest from village to village. Everywhere Gunnar\nstopped the sacrifices, and everywhere Sigrid upheld him. In time she\nwas even beforehand with him, and much more vehement than he had ever\nbeen. He admired the spirit in which she did it, but advised her to be\nprudent. \"If you say too much,\" he told her, \"they will believe you to\nbe under my thumb.\" She did not reply to that at first; but presently\nshe said, \"If they charged me with that I should not gainsay it.\"\n\nHe smiled with his eyes as well as his lips. \"You might find it a softer\none than Frey's,\" he said. She turned away her face, but gave him her\nhand to hold. He began to talk his nonsense, setting himself the task of\nmaking her laugh; for he thought to himself, \"They are better when they\nlaugh, for they cannot do it unless their hearts are light.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE SNOWSTORM\n\n\nAfter many weeks journeying in dense woodland country, Frey's wagon was\nnow to cross a range of high mountains. The forest grew lighter, the way\nwas steadily uphill, the wind blew cooler, the trees were more backward.\nAt last they were fairly in the uplands among boulders of rock with here\nand there a few pines, or a grove of birch. It became like winter again,\nexcept for the length of daylight.\n\nThere was a rough road by which the mountains were to be passed. They\nreached it at sunset, and it seemed likely they would have to spend the\nnight upon the top where the snow was still deep. It began to blow\nfitfully from the east and north, and Gunnar did not like the look of\nthings at all.\n\n\"Sweetheart,\" he said, \"we had best shelter hereabouts, for I doubt it\nis coming on to blow, and we might have snowstorms up above.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Sigrid, \"I feel sure we had best get on. They await us on the\nfurther side of the mountain, but a little way down.\"\n\n\"As you will,\" said Gunnar; \"only keep yourself warm inside, and make\nyour curtains as snug as you can.\"\n\nHe had spoken truly. The wind increased, and the powdery snow began\nflitting in wreaths over the frozen ground. Gunnar put a blanket round\nSigrid and drew his coat closer about him. The oxen plodded on without\ntaking notice. But both wind and snow were in their faces, and it was a\nslow business.\n\nGunnar kept his eye on the look of the sky. He saw masses of dark cloud\nbehind the mountain range, inky towards the middle, brown at the edges.\n\"There's a mort of snow to come,\" he said.\n\nIt grew dark quickly, and he sent Sigrid into the wagon. \"Get to bed,\"\nhe told her, \"and wrap yourself up warmly. The first good rock I come to\nI shall shelter the cattle.\"\n\n\"And what will you do yourself?\" she wanted to know.\n\n\"I shall turn the wagon back to the wind,\" he said, \"and cover the oxen.\nThen I will do the best for myself I can.\"\n\nShe wasn't satisfied and seemed unwilling to leave him, but he told her\nagain to go to bed. \"Well,\" she said, \"I will go, but you shall kiss me\nfirst.\" It was the first time she had ever asked that of him, and he\ngave her what she wanted, though he had other things to think about\nthen, and plenty of them.\n\nShe went away after that, and he trudged along. The snow was coming\nthick now; he felt it like gnats against his face, and that his beard\nwas stiff with it. The front of his clothes was like a board, and his\nknees ached with the strain. The oxen stopped several times; but he hued\nthem on, and often gave a hand to the wheel. But he had to stop as often\nto let them breathe themselves, and every time he did so they were the\nharder to move. The fury of the wind drove the snow in wreaths; banks of\nit formed, through which the cattle stumbled, or failed to stumble. When\nthey failed he had to kick a passage for them.\n\n\nThe point came beyond which he could not get them to move. It was at a\nbend of the road between high rocks. The wind came down the channel in\nfury, the snow was blinding. He felt, for he could not see, the\ntrembling beasts, and understood that there was no moving them. Sigrid\nwithin the curtains made no sign. Gunnar considered that here they must\nremain until the storm ceased.\n\nHe found stones for the hind wheels of the wain, unyoked the oxen and\nled them into the lew, out of the fury of the weather. He sought in the\nchoked underpart for their coverings, but could not find them there.\nThey would be in the wagon, and he must have them by all means. He gave\nthem fodder, however, and then wondered what he should do to get their\nclothing, and to help himself. He was not cold, for his exertions had\nbeen too severe, but he would soon become so. Should he make himself a\nrampart of snow and crouch under that? He knew there was danger of\nswooning, and rejected the thought. Should he then stamp up and down,\nflapping his arms until daybreak? He knew that he could not.\n\n\"It seems I am to perish for the sake of a wooden god!\" His heart grew\nhot within him. \"Accursed idol,\" he said, \"if I had you here I would\nfight it out with you! And I vow that if I come through this pass with\nsafety, and see again my own land, I will take King Olaf's religion,\nwhich does not send fair women to sleep with painted stocks.\"\n\n\"Sigrid has little love to spare for the like of me,\" he thought. \"What\nknows she whether I live or die? There she snuggles asleep, with Frey in\nher arms.\" He heard the voice of Sigrid then, with tears in it. \"No, no,\nI do not. Come in and you shall see.\"\n\nHe stared before him. \"Sigrid, are you awake?\"\n\nShe answered, \"I am awake, and wait for you.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said he, \"I come, but first give me covering for the cattle or\nthey will perish, for they are now running sweat.\"\n\n\"Stay,\" she said; \"you shall have them; but then you must come.\"\n\nHe was now on fire, and trembling, but he waited while she struck tinder\nand blew a flame from which she lit a candle. After a time which was\nenough to cool any one, but did not cool him, she handed him out the\nwrappings. He made the beasts as snug as he could, and when he had done\nthe candle was still burning fitfully.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nMARRIAGE OF SIGRID\n\n\nGunnar stood by the wagon, backing the storm. He waited for Sigrid to\ncall him. He could see her shadow moving about, and that she seemed very\nbusy. His temper began to rise. \"What is the matter now? Have I not\nearned shelter yet? Or does she wait until I am frostbitten?\"\n\nHer voice came scared from the curtains. \"Are you there, Gunnar?\"\n\n\"Ha! Am I here? I am a hillock of snow. There is nothing left of me that\nis not ice. Have you no ruth then?\"\n\nHer voice had great fear in it. \"I am afraid of Frey. He is very angry.\"\n\nThen Gunnar's wrath overflowed and was bitter in the mouth. \"What, is\nFrey angry? Ah, but I am angry too. I'll deal with Frey. Let me get at\nhim.\"\n\nHe climbed the wagon wheel and put his head and shoulders in the\ncurtains. He saw Frey standing in the cart. With a lurch forward, he got\nhim by the beard and pulled him over towards himself. \"Now, Frey, you\nand I are at grips. Come, out with you.\"\n\nHe now had Frey under the arms, and was hauling him out. When he had got\nso much of him out as was enough, he let go, and Frey, overbalancing,\nfell upon his head into the snow. The gleaming of the candle showed him\nthe axe hanging on its accustomed nail. \"I'll take that,\" he said, and\ngot down with it in his hand.\n\nNow he set Frey up in the snow and took him by the ears. Frey had his\ncrown on, but none of his clothes. Seeing him now as he really was,\nGunnar's blood boiled within him.\n\n\"Dangerous, malignant idol,\" he said, with his teeth clenched, \"whether\nyou are devil or stock you shall be neither within this few minutes. To\nwhat monstrous pass have you brought us, to keep true lovers apart! You,\nto keep lovers apart! To what shameful drudgery you turn this sweet\nwoman. You, to drudge a woman! Ah, block of abomination, the one good\nthing you have done is to turn my heart to a faith that is cleaner than\nyours. If you have set me free, now it is my turn. Here's for\nSigrid--and to let the fiend out of the tree.\" With that he swung the\naxe high in the air and brought it down true upon the head of Frey. Frey\nwas cloven from the crown to the chine, and fell neatly in halves on\neither side of him. Gunnar looked up. The cloud-wrack had blown over,\nthe sky was clear and gemmed with stars.\n\n\"Frey has ridden off on the storm,\" he said. Then he called aloud,\n\"Sigrid!\" And her faint voice answered, \"Gunnar!\" He climbed into the\nwagon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nMORROW OF THE STORM\n\n\nThe storm had abated in the night, the weather of the morning was fair,\nwith a wind from the south. Gunnar, when he went out and looked about\nhim, thought that it would be possible to take up the journey by noon.\n\nBut there were more serious things to consider of. Frey was dead and in\ntwo halves, and how could they go without Frey? How could they go with\nhim either? He did not know what had better be done.\n\nBut Sigrid knew very well. When Gunnar came back to her she told him.\n\"We must go on,\" she said, \"and it is for you now to be Frey. You are\nstrikingly like him. You would do much greater miracles than ever he\ndid--as,\" she said, \"you have already done.\"\n\nGunnar thought about it. \"It could be done, I dare say. But we have no\nwagoner. You would not have Frey drive his own team.\"\n\nShe said, \"We shall easily find a teamster in the country. And until we\nhave one I can drive the beasts.\"\n\nGunnar said that that would not suit him at all. But they settled it\nthis way, that he should drive until they were nearing the village,\nwhich lay upon a shoulder of the mountain, not far from the pass on the\nfurther side. Then Sigrid would go and find a wagoner and return with\nhim.\n\nIt was necessary to mend Frey's oak-leaf crown, which was in two pieces.\nGunnar joined them neatly together, and gilded the edges of the\nfracture. The axe had been very sharp, the cut very clean. There was no\ntrouble with Frey's clothing; Gunnar was happy to resume his cloak.\n\nScarlet paint to his nostrils was all that he needed to make him as like\nFrey as need be; but he did not need as yet to change his nature and\nattributes. There would be time enough for that when Sigrid was gone for\nthe wagoner.\n\n\nThey took up the journey again through the fast-melting snow. It was\nhard work, but the sun was shining, the sky without a cloud; they made\nway and reached the top of the pass without serious delay. Thence they\ncould see the village below them. They saw also that on that side of the\nmountain the snow had not drifted so much. It had been exposed to the\nfull fury of the wind, which had blown the snow off as fast as it fell.\nGunnar considered that this would be a good place to wait for the\nteamster; but Sigrid told him that a little way down there was a\nbetter. \"There is a shelter there,\" she said, \"and a little birch wood.\nYou will be more concealed, and I shall not have so far to come back to\nyou.\"\n\nGunnar laughed. \"Now that you have me, you are glad of me.\"\n\nHer answer was a long look, and a sigh from a full heart.\n\nThey found the little wood and steered the team there. It was in the\nfull sun, with very little snow. Flowers were blowing there, and the\nbirds very busy. Gunnar kissed Sigrid and saw her go on her errand.\n\n\nAs for her, she went on her way rejoicing. She did what she could not\nremember to have done before--for she was by nature grave and silent:\nshe sang snatches of little songs, at first with no words to them, but\nafterwards words came of themselves--names which she had had for Gunnar\na long time stored in her heart, and others of the kind. After a few\nturns of the road she saw a group of men in a walled close, and went to\nthem.\n\nThey said that they were expecting Frey and his wagon, fearing that the\nstorm would have stayed him.\n\n\"Frey is quite well,\" she said, \"but we have lost our wagoner, who was a\nNorwegian, and Frey's priest also. He disappeared in the storm, and we\nsuppose he perished in a drift.\"\n\n\"Better men than he have perished last night,\" said one of the men. \"But\nwho may you be, mistress?\"\n\nSigrid said, \"I am Frey's wife.\" And then they all knew her and saluted\nher with great respect.\n\n\"Frey sent me,\" said she, \"to find a man of yours to lead his wagon into\nyour village. Afterwards we must let him choose one who will continue\nwith him on his rounds. It is not likely he will have a new man from\nevery village. He would not be pleased with that.\"\n\nThey talked together, and then said they would all come gladly. \"Very\ngood,\" she said. \"You shall all bring us into the village. Now we will\ngo back, for Frey is alone, and I don't know what he may do. He is very\nstrange this morning, and I believe might be dangerous if he were vexed\nor in any way put out.\"\n\nThey struck off up the mountain, and when they came to the wagon in the\nbirch wood, there stood Frey with shining nostrils, very fierce, in the\ncart. He had drawn the curtains so that he might look out over the\ncountry. Sigrid called their attention to that. \"You see how it is with\nhim,\" she said. \"Now I tell you that when I left him those curtains were\nclosely drawn.\" One of the men said that a night out on the mountain in\nsuch a storm was enough to make anybody angry.\n\nHe stood up very regally while they stood before him bareheaded. One\nman said a kind of a prayer, deprecating his anger; but Frey took no\nnotice of him. Sigrid said, \"Better get on as soon as may be. He will be\nhungry, and will do no work until he is satisfied.\" She got up into the\nwagon and sat beside Frey, and put her hand within his arm. The men\nurged the oxen down the road, and so they came to the village.\n\nAs soon as Sigrid saw the concourse which was out to meet them she drew\nthe curtains, and was immediately in Gunnar's arms. But then, after\nthat, she had to learn what were his intentions.\n\nHe said, \"I will have no blood-offerings at all. If they must slay oxen\nand sheep, let it be for a good dinner. I will join them there and they\nshall be the better of it, as I shall be. But their offerings shall be\ngold or silver, or clothing, if they wish to serve me. Eggs, too, I will\ntake, or cheese, or milk, or bread. Therefore, Sigrid, you must make\nthem understand and more than that, you must drive it into the head of\nthe man you choose for priest, that blood-sacrifices are an abomination\nto me.\"\n\nShe promised him that she would see to it all; and so they came into the\nvillage with the people flocking about them. When they had taken up\ntheir place and the oxen had been unyoked, fed and watered, Sigrid took\nthe headmen apart and told them the mind of Frey. They were\ndisappointed. They said that they had many victims whom they were\nanxious to dispose of, and not much gold or silver at any rate, and none\nwhich they could spare. They hoped therefore that Frey would accept of\nthe accustomed sacrifice, which was a great interest to the people.\n\nSigrid said, \"I see how it is. You wish to glut yourself at Frey's\ncharge, and to rid yourself of what you don't want, nor Frey neither.\nBut Frey knows this better than you do, and is not to be deceived. You\nwill find out very soon that I am right.\"\n\nThey said that he should have eggs, bread, cheese and milk, and went\naway very discontented.\n\nThe hour of the sacrifice was now at hand. Trestles and boards were laid\nbefore the wagon to hold up the altar and to make degrees of approach to\nit. Then when songs had been sung and prayers offered, Sigrid drew the\ncurtains apart and revealed Frey to them.\n\nThey brought baskets of bread, cheeses in the round, milk and eggs. With\na bearer of eggs Frey worked his first miracle.\n\nA certain man came up with a basketful of eggs; there may have been two\ndozen of them. He knelt before Frey in his place in the row, waiting his\nturn. Gunnar, watching him, saw him fingering the eggs while he waited,\nturning them over, lifting one and weighing it in his hands. Presently\nhe saw him take two from the basket and slip them in his pocket. When\nhe put his hand to them again Frey brought his budded staff smartly down\nupon the back of it, and smashed it into his eggs. The man gave a yell,\nand fell down upon his face. All the rest shrank away in consternation,\nand there was great commotion down below. The man, sobbing and\nblubbering, drew out of his pocket the stolen eggs. Never had been such\na miracle as this within the memory of man. The immediate effect of it\nwas to bring out treasure to the shrine. Women brought their marriage\ncrowns, men their rings and armlets. Fine cloth was offered and stuff\nembroidered with silk and gold. In the evening there was a feast, to\nwhich Frey himself came, and to their wonder and satisfaction ate and\ndrank with the best. He said little; but he listened, and nodded his\nhead when he was pleased, or knit his brows when he was angry. Next day\nhe was drawn in his wagon to their closes and fields, and blessed them\nall very graciously. He gave them to understand through his wife that\nby banking up a torrent they could easily turn it and make a head of\nwater enough to keep the pasture green all the summer through. Another\nthing he told them was how to make conduit-pipes of the split trunks of\ntrees, hollowed out. All these things were wonderful, and carried the\nname and fame of Frey before him. The offerings poured into his\ntreasury; he was rich, and had no more trouble with blood-sacrifices. By\nthe end of the sowing season Frey was so rich that the wagon would\nscarcely hold him, his wife and the treasure. He talked to Sigrid about\nit, and said, \"Sweetheart, I am thinking that we should do well to have\na bodyguard before we get into our own country.\"\n\nSigrid, who was sitting on his knee at the time, said that no one would\ndare to attack Frey; but Gunnar nodded his head. \"Fame is a strange\nthing,\" he told her; \"it takes the guise that is most in men's fancy.\nNow for one man who has heard report of our miracles, there will be\ntwenty who know that we have a full treasury. I am minded to have a\nguard before we cross the river and come into the parts where we are\nknown best. And do you know what I am thinking is going to be the crown\nof Frey's achievement?\"\n\nShe said, wonderingly, \"No.\" Then Gunnar kissed her. And then she told\nhim that she knew quite well what he meant, and that the truth was so.\n\"Great is Frey,\" said Gunnar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nNEWS OF FREY REACHES NORWAY\n\n\nIn Norway under King Olaf Trygvasson affairs were prospering all this\nwhile. The king had settled his kingdom into his own ways, and being of\na restless and acquisitive mind, he was already thinking how he could\nbetter himself. He had thought more than once of Iceland as a heathen\ncountry stocked with fine people well worth the pains of conversion. \"To\ndrive them to the water may cost me five hundred lives,\" he said, \"but\nyou may take that as a sowing of which the harvest will be a\nthousandfold. Christ will win souls and I a new realm.\" The more he\nthought of it the more he desired to do it.\n\nThen there came strange news out of Sweden, of painful interest to King\nOlaf. He heard of mighty stirrings of the pagan people out there, of\nmiracles wrought by their chief god Frey which overpassed any which his\nown priests could do. What struck him most in these accounts was that\nthe manner of devotion had been changed. Frey, he was assured, was\nmilder-mannered, and would have nothing to do with human sacrifice. More\nthan that, blood-offerings of all sorts were utterly done away with. The\nking could not understand it, and talked it over with the lords of his\ncouncil.\n\n\"It looks to me,\" he said, \"as if Frey was half-way to be a Christian.\nNot only will he have no bloodshed, but all his works are those of\nmercy. He heals the sick, comforts the fatherless, gives sight to the\nblind, sets captives free! There is something in all this which I cannot\nfathom. But let me tell you that baptism of a heathen god would be a\nthing to root the true faith in the rock, as it should be. Then it would\nstand fast for ever.\"\n\nSome said one thing, and some another. But Sigurd Helming looked down at\nhis finger-nails with his brows drawn up very high, and said nothing at\nall.\n\nHe was so pointedly silent that the king observed it. \"Well,\" he asked\nhim, \"and what are you thinking to see in your finger-nails?\"\n\nSigurd held up the forefinger of one hand. \"There is a white fleck in\nthis one,\" he said, \"which warns me of a stranger in Sweden.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said King Olaf, \"and that is true to report. What next?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sigurd, \"a stranger to my knowledge went into Sweden a year\nago, and has not been heard of as coming out again. That was my brother\nGunnar, who went for a good reason.\"\n\nThe king frowned. \"You did no service to this country when you warned\nhim of my anger.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" Sigurd said, \"I know that. But I was very sure then that he had\nno part in Halward's slaughter, and I believe that you had an inkling of\nhow the case stood. Otherwise you had not kept me on your council, but\nhad expelled me the realm.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"what I have heard since has softened my\nresentment; but I know nothing. What makes you see the mind of Gunnar in\nthese heathen doings?\"\n\n\"The knowledge I have of his mind,\" said Sigurd. \"He is a merry man and\na mild-mannered man until he is vexed. Now, he never would sacrifice\nbeasts to the gods in the old days when the gods required it. And he\nalways said that it was better to kill a man outright than to keep him\nin chains or darkness. These are two reasons. Lastly, if it is true\nthat Frey had a woman for his wife, I believe that Gunnar has her now,\nand that the next miracle of Frey's we hear about will be that she is to\ngive him a child.\"\n\nThe king took hold of his chin under his beard, and considered. Then he\nsaid, \"Sigurd, do you go into Sweden and witness some of the doings of\nFrey. If you are right in what you suspect--and I think that you\nare--you will see Gunnar, and maybe he will tell you the truth of the\nmatter. It is an old story by now, but I don't say that I shall not have\na word with the slayer of Halward hereafter if I happen to meet with\nhim.\" Sigurd said that he would gladly go to Sweden. It was settled that\nhe should set out in the summer when the passes were open and Frey at\nhome again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nSIGURD IN SWEDEN. THE BATTLE OF THE FORD\n\n\nSigurd said that he should go to Sweden by sea, as that was the quicker\nway for one who did not know the land ways. He had a ship fitted out,\nand was often down on the hard, either going to his ship or coming from\nit.\n\nOne day he saw, or thought he saw, Gunnar sitting there in the sun. It\nwas a man of about his size in a cloak which he had been fond of\nwearing; a faded red cloak with a hood to it which stuck out in a bunch\nupon his shoulders. After a good look at him he knew that it could not\nbe Gunnar, but was still curious about the cloak. He went up to the man\nuntil he could touch him, and then did touch him by lifting up the hem\nof the cloak to see if the braid was like that of Gunnar's. It was the\nvery same.\n\n\"Good day to you,\" Sigurd said, and the man, seeing a lord beside him,\nrose up and saluted him. He looked like a fisherman or seafarer.\n\n\"I was interested in your cloak,\" Sigurd said. \"I think my brother\nGunnar will have given it to you. But he left the country more than a\ntwelvemonth ago, and I see that you have worn it hard.\"\n\nThe man laughed. \"Not so hard then,\" he said, \"seeing I have not had it\nin my hands more than a few days, and this is but the second time I have\nworn it.\"\n\n\"From whom did you receive it? I must needs know, for a good deal hangs\nupon what you tell me.\"\n\nThe man stared, and then looked rather sullen. \"It is fairly mine,\" he\nsaid, \"as a thing is that comes from the bottom of the sea.\"\n\nNow it was Sigurd who stared. \"You fished it up from the sea-bed?\"\n\n\"It came up with my anchor six nights ago or seven.\"\n\n\"Where were you moored?\"\n\nHe pointed out to sea. \"I was lying just off the Ness, having been out\nwith the nets. But the wind shifted at sunset, and I was not hurried, so\nstayed there snug enough till morning. It is a soft bottom there. In the\nmorning I shipped my anchor, and up comes this cloak with a great stone\nin the hood of it. It had been cast there by somebody who wanted it to\nstay there, but you see things went awry with him.\"\n\n\"They did so,\" said Sigurd. \"Now I will give you three crowns for the\ncloak as it stands.\"\n\n\"If you do that you do a foolish thing,\" said the man, \"but it is not\nfor me to stop you.\n\n\"It's not so foolish as you suppose,\" Sigurd answered. He paid over his\nmoney, and away with the cloak.\n\n\"I take you with me to find your master,\" he said to it, very well\nsatisfied with his morning's work.\n\n\nHe made a good journey in his ship, coasted the land of Sweden and ran\nup a long way into the land. He arrived there towards the middle of the\nsummer, and made inquiries of the whereabouts of the woodland Frey.\nHereabouts, they told him, he was not worshipped, though great tales\nwere told of him which had shaken many, and moved some to go into the\nforest country to judge for themselves. They gave him certain\ninformation where that country was. He was to follow the course of the\nriver up into the land. When it ran finer he would come to a good ford.\nOn the west of that lay the country of the woodland Frey.\n\nSigurd set off on horseback with a good retinue, and made long\njourneys. In about ten days or a fortnight the river began to run\nbrokenly; in a day more he should be at the ford. So it proved. The\ncountry ran flat in a broad valley, on the west of which, climbing\ngradually to the mountains, so far as the eye could see there was\nforest.\n\nThey kept a look-out for the ford, and presently a man of theirs, riding\nin front, topped, looked earnestly, and then held up his hand with a\nspear in it. They came up with him. \"What is it you see?\" Sigurd asked\nhim.\n\n\"I see the ford,\" he said, \"and I see also men fighting about it. And it\nseems to me that twenty are attacking a few.\"\n\nSigurd was looking as they all were. \"What are those white animals I see\non this bank?\"\n\n\"They are oxen,\" said the look-out man.\n\n\"I see also a great wagon they have behind them. And I believe that Frey\nis in the wagon. What I marvel at is that he should be there at all and\nnot among the fighters.\"\n\n\"Would Frey fight men?\" he was asked.\n\n\"If he is what I believe him,\" said Sigurd, \"he would gladly fight men.\"\n\nThey rode on cautiously, taking what cover they could, and came up\nwithin a bowshot of the fight. Then they saw that there were eight men\nagainst the twenty, of whom some were fallen into the river, and some\nfell even as they looked. Nevertheless, the greater party was\nprevailing. They had pushed back the eight to the close neighbourhood of\nthe wagon, and it looked as if it would go hard with them. Frey, they\ncould see, stood fixedly in the front of the cart with his crown on his\nhead, and his cone and rod in his hands. Sigurd wondered at him, and\ncould not think it was Gunnar.\n\nBut even while he thought, he saw Frey drop his cone and reach\nstealthily behind him. He found what he wanted and held it behind his\nback, staring all the while fixedly in front.\n\n[Illustration: \"Then all of a sudden Frey ... leaped from the cart into\nthe midst of the fight.\"\n\n_Frey and his Wife_] [_Page 241_ ]\n\nThen all of a sudden Frey roared aloud, making a terrible booming noise,\nand leaped from the cart into the midst of the fight. Sigurd now saw\nthat he had in his right hand an axe, and remarked with pleasure how\ndoughtily he laid about him with it, and how men fell before him. Frey\nkept up his roaring, which was like the noise of a great buzzing\nwindmill, and seemed to paralyze his enemies, who gave back in confusion\nuntil they were at the water's edge.\n\n\"Now is our time,\" said Sigurd, and gave the order to set on.\n\nSo they did, with spears, and completed the rout. All the remnant of the\nassailants was slain. Then Sigurd turned him to Frey.\n\n\"This is the last of your miracles, brother,\" he said, \"or the last but\none. You had no need of us.\"\n\nGunnar turned upon him in wonderment. \"Ah, it is you, Sigurd! I cry you\nhail!\" Then they shook hands and embraced each other with great joy.\n\nGunnar told Sigurd that he had had suspicions of some such thing, \"since\nthe people on this side of the river have no love for Frey,\" and knew\nwhat a treasure he had in his wagon. He had prepared himself beforehand\nwith a tolerable company; but the marauders were in greater force than\nhe had thought for. \"So it was needful for Frey himself to make an\nexample of them.\"\n\nThen Sigurd asked to be shown the treasure; \"And they tell me, Gunnar,\nthat you have more than gold and silver with you.\"\n\n\"So I have,\" said Gunnar, \"as you shall see.\" He called Sigrid, who then\ncame down from the cart and greeted Sigurd with gravity and timidity\nmingled. She stood very close to Gunnar all the time. Sigurd approved\nhighly of her, and \"I see that the crowning wonder of Frey's life on\nearth is to be accomplished in her.\" This he said to Gunnar when they\nwere alone, and Gunnar did not deny it.\n\nWhen they had eaten, drunken and rested themselves, Gunnar desired to\nknow what had brought his brother adventuring into these wilds. Sigurd\nsaid, Well! he had heard rumours of Frey's doings which put him in mind\nof Gunnar. These had been spoken of in the king's council, and authority\ngiven to him to go out and satisfy himself. \"And I may tell you,\" he\ncontinued, \"that King Olaf's anger with you is over, and that you need\nnot fear the sight of a tree any more. But we will talk about that\nanother time. Let me see this fine treasure of yours which your magic\nhas drawn from the Swedes.\"\n\nGunnar said, \"I don't know that there was much magic about it. I gave\nthem what they wanted, they gave me what I wanted. It seems a fair\nbarter. And let me tell you, it is no light matter for me to be silent\nwhen men are feasting; and to fill up your nostrils with red paint every\nmorning--that is worth its price also.\"\n\n\"But you had a pretty wife to talk with,\" said Sigurd.\n\n\"To be sure I had,\" Gunnar replied, \"and a great to-do before I had\nher.\"\n\nSigrid brought out the treasure to show to Sigurd. He was amazed. \"I had\nnot believed there was so much gold and silver in Sweden,\" he said. Then\nhe saw the cloths, the tissues of silk and linen, and the raiment. By\nand by he turned over the green and brown cloak which Gunnar had brought\nwith him from Drontheim. \"Here is a notable cloak,\" he said, \"the like\nof which I have seen before.\"\n\n\"Have you though?\" said Gunnar, and laughed. \"That is Frey's own cloak,\nwhich I vowed to him when I took service under him, and long before I\nmade palings of him.\"\n\nSigurd said, \"Wait a little. I think I can match it.\" He went away to\nhis company and came back with Gunnar's red-hooded cloak in his hands.\n\"Here,\" he said, \"is a fellow to it, somewhat tousled and time-worn. Do\nyou know it?\"\n\nGunnar handled it with affection. \"That is an old friend which I never\nthought to see again,\" he said. \"The last time I saw it, it was on the\nback of a dirty rascal.\"\n\nSigurd told him the tale of its recovery, and how a great stone had come\nup in the hood of it. Gunnar said, \"I see it--but I saw it all at the\ntime.\"\n\n\"I did not,\" said Sigurd, \"but now I do. I shall keep both of these\ncloaks, by your leave,\" he said. \"King Olaf requires to be convinced.\"\n\nGunnar said that he was ready to go back with his brother the way he had\ncome, but that he would send Frey's wagon home across the ford. \"If they\nneed a new Frey,\" he said, \"they will make one for themselves.\"\n\n\"There's a new Frey on the road,\" said Sigurd, \"who would give them\ngreat satisfaction,\" but Gunnar said that he had had enough godship.\n\nSo they returned along the river road, and Sigrid had her first sight of\nthe sea, and a taste of its quality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE END OF THE TALE\n\n\nGunnar found himself rich with all his Swedish treasure, and bought land\nin a dale of Drontheim, and set to work building a fine house. About\nChristmas-time Sigrid gave birth to a son, which was a great affair. But\nbefore any of these things happened to him he had to see King Olaf, who\nreceived him with a wry smile.\n\n\"So you are not only contumacious, but inveterate in sin,\" he said; but\nGunnar could see that he wasn't angry. \"You not only deny my God, but\nset yourself up as His rival. And now you are in my hands, what am I to\ndo?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Gunnar, \"it is rather true that the only way I had of\nescaping your rope was to run among the heathen. As for my godhead,\nthat in a sense was forced upon me. I would have you remark that I slew\na god before I became one myself.\"\n\n\"You slew a god and took his wife,\" said the king. \"I should like to see\nFrey's wife. You shall bring her to me, if you please. I have many\nquestions to put to her.\"\n\nSo Sigrid was brought to King Olaf, who questioned her alone. But he\nfound it one thing to question and another thing to get answered. As for\nher origin she was quite willing to repeat all that she had told Gunnar\nearly in her acquaintance with him. King Olaf knew her country and the\ncity of Prag, from which it seemed she had come, very well. Then he\nwanted to know about her marriage with Frey, and she became dumb. How\nlong was it before she knew that Frey was nought? No answer. What sort\nof communication had passed between her and Frey? No answer. Was Frey\nkind to her? Did he beat her? Was it his eyes which dominated her? No\nanswers.\n\nLastly he said this: \"Have you told Gunnar everything that there is to\ntell?\"\n\nTo that she answered, \"Yes,\" and her eyes were unclouded and not afraid\nof the king's.\n\n\"Well!\" said Olaf; and that was all there was to say about it.\n\nThe king told Gunnar that he was not married at all, to which Gunnar\nanswered, \"Ho, am I not?\" But he went on to say that he had vowed\nhimself to Christianity on the night of his marriage, and that he and\nSigrid were very ready to accomplish the vow. The king agreed to it; so\nthe pair of them went into the water with the Bishop of Drontheim, and\nwere afterwards married again by the laws of Christendom and Holy\nChurch.\n\nMen sat still then for the winter, and in the spring King Olaf gathered\nhis hosts and fitted out his long ships for work in Iceland. Gunnar\nexcused himself, saying that he was busy with his new house and his\nchild; but he spoke more freely to Sigurd.\n\n\"I know one thing which you intend doing over there,\" he said, \"and I\nwill have no share in it myself. I owe no grudge to Ogmund Dint, though\nit was a dirty trick he played me for his own beastly ends. But I got\nSigrid out of the adventure and everything I possess, and that's enough\nfor me.\"\n\n\"Plenty,\" said Sigurd, \"and I am with you, and should do the same if I\nwere in your place. But the king won't have slayings done in Norway\nunavenged. He is very bitter against Ogmund, and I fancy it will go hard\nwith him.\"\n\n\"I don't doubt that,\" said Gunnar. \"King Olaf is a hard nut to crack.\"\n\n\nThe expedition sailed, and sailed north. The landing was made in Shaw\nFirth where Ogmund's father, Raven, was a great man. But Ogmund himself\nwas not there. Wigfus, who was in the host, told the king where he would\nbe found, and when matters had been settled in the north the fleet\nsailed about to the east of Iceland and made a new landing, not far from\nThwartwater.\n\nOgmund was one of the first of the chieftains in those parts to submit\nhimself to King Olaf's baptism.\n\nThe king received him coldly and put him on one side. \"I will consider\nof it,\" he said, \"but first I wish to see old Battle-Glum, who is a man\nafter my own heart.\"\n\nBattle-Glum was brought before him, and refused to have anything to do\nwith Christianity. \"I am an old man now,\" he said, \"looking out for my\nend. It is late for me to change my opinions. Thor is the god I worship,\nand in that faith will I die. It matters very little to me whether I\ndie at your hands, or in my bed. I have settled all my affairs. Wigfus\nwill take Thwartwater after me. He is young and can follow what gods he\npleases. So also can Ogmund, my foster-son.\"\n\n\"Wigfus your son,\" said the king, \"is a Christian already; but Ogmund\nyour foster-son is not. He is here at hand, and I will have him in\nbefore you that you may know something about him before you die.\"\n\nOgmund was brought in, and Sigurd also was present. Sigurd said, \"The\nlast time you were in Drontheim you left something behind you which I\ndesire to give back. But there is some doubt left open which of two\nthings is yours, and I would have you settle it, Ogmund.\"\n\nOgmund said that he would do so with pleasure.\n\nThen Sigurd said, \"You left a dead man lying in his blood, and a cloak.\"\n\nOgmund Dint said that he left no cloak, \"and as for the man, I slew him\nfairly.\"\n\nSigurd said, \"You left two cloaks, one in the water with a great stone\nin it, and one on the back of my brother Gunnar. Here they are. Which do\nyou say is yours?\"\n\nOgmund was very troubled. He touched the fine cloak. \"I say that that is\nmine.\"\n\n\"You lie, Ogmund,\" said Sigurd. \"That was in Gunnar's keeping. He gave\nit to me.\"\n\nThen Ogmund was for justifying himself to the king; but King Olaf told\nthe story at length to Battle-Glum. Glum listened to it, and said\nlittle. \"Thrall's blood will show itself,\" he said. \"I expected\nsomething of the kind.\" Then he turned to King Olaf and said, \"Do you\npropose to have this man baptized?\" The king said, \"I do.\"\n\nThen Battle-Glum said, \"And do you ask me to be of the same religion?\"\nThe king told him he could do as he pleased. \"You are a credit to any\nreligion,\" he told him.\n\nOgmund Dint asked vehemently for baptism.\n\n\"You shall have it,\" said King Olaf. \"You shall be baptized first and\nhanged afterwards, lest your punishment be eternal as well as temporal.\"\n\nWhich was done.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\nButler & Tanner; Frome and London.","title":"Frey and His Wife","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":31578}