Erling the Bold | Page 2

conveniently be
transgressed--the two champions set to work at once with the cool

businesslike promptitude of men sprung from a warlike race, and
nurtured from their birth in the midst of war's alarms.
Together, and without speaking, they ascended the rock, which was low
and almost barren, with a small extent of turf in the centre, level, and
admirably suited to their purpose. Here they faced each other; the one
drew his sword, the other raised his battle-axe.
There was no sentiment in that combat. The times and the men were
extremely matter-of-fact. The act of slaying gracefully had not yet been
acquired; yet there was much of manly grace displayed as each threw
himself into the position that nature and experience had taught him was
best suited to the wielding of his peculiar weapon.
For one instant each gazed intently into the face of the other, as if to
read there his premeditated plan of attack. At that moment the clear
blue eye of the younger man dilated, and, as his courage rose, the
colour mounted to his cheek. The swart brow of the other darkened as
he marked the change; then, with sudden spring and shout, the two fell
upon each other and dealt their blows with incredible vigour and
rapidity.
They were a well-matched pair. For nearly two hours did they toil and
moil over the narrow limits of that sea-girt rock--yet victory leaned to
neither side. Now the furious blows rained incessant on the sounding
shields; anon the din of strife ceased, while the combatants moved
round each other, shifting their position with elastic step, as, with wary
motion and eagle glances, each sought to catch the other off his guard,
and the clash of steel, as the weapons met in sudden onset, was mingled
with the shout of anger or defiance. The sun glanced on whirling blade
and axe, and sparkled on their coats of mail as if the lightning flash
were playing round them; while screaming seamews flew and circled
overhead, as though they regarded with intelligent interest and terror
the mortal strife that was going on below.
Blood ere long began to flow freely on both sides; the vigour of the
blows began to abate, the steps to falter. The youthful cheek grew pale;
the dark warrior's brow grew darker, while heaving chests, labouring

breath, and an occasional gasp, betokened the approaching termination
of the struggle. Suddenly the youth, as if under the influence of a new
impulse, dropped his shield, sprang forward, raised himself to his full
height, grasped his axe with both hands, and, throwing it aloft (thus
recklessly exposing his person), brought it down with terrific violence
on the shield of his adversary.
The action was so sudden that the other, already much exhausted, was
for the moment paralysed, and failed to take advantage of his
opportunity. He met but failed to arrest the blow with his shield. It was
crushed down upon his head, and in another moment the swarthy
warrior lay stretched upon the turf.
Sternly the men conveyed their fallen chief to his boat, and rowed him
to the mainland, and many a week passed by ere he recovered from the
effects of the blow that felled him. His conqueror returned to have his
wounds dressed by the bride for whom he had fought so long and so
valiantly on that bright summer morning.
Thus it was that King Haldor of Horlingdal, surnamed the Fierce,
conquered King Ulf of Romsdal, acquired his distinctive appellation,
and won Herfrida the Soft-eyed for his bride.
It must not be supposed that these warriors were kings in the ordinary
acceptation of that term. They belonged to the class of "small" or petty
kings, of whom there were great numbers in Norway in those days, and
were merely rich and powerful free-landholders or udallers.
Haldor the Fierce had a large family of sons and daughters. They were
all fair, strong, and extremely handsome, like himself.
Ulf of Romsdal did not die of his wounds, neither did he die of love.
Disappointed love was then, as now, a terrible disease, but not
necessarily fatal. Northmen were very sturdy in the olden time. They
almost always recovered from that disease sooner or later. When his
wounds were healed, Ulf married a fair girl of the Horlingdal district,
and went to reside there, but his change of abode did not alter his title.
He was always spoken of as Ulf of Romsdal. He and his old enemy

Haldor the Fierce speedily became fast friends; and so was it with their
wives, Astrid and Herfrida, who also took mightily to each other. They
span, and carded wool, and sewed together oftentimes, and discussed
the affairs of Horlingdal, no doubt with mutual advantage and
satisfaction.
Twenty years passed away, and