Northland Heroes | Page 8

clasps
shone with rubies.
Angantyr took the treasure and filled it with gold. Giving it to Frithiof,
he said: "This welcome gift is a tribute to you, my friend, but not to
King Helge. And now I beg you, Frithiof, to pass the long winter hours
with us, your friends and the friends of your fathers."

The Return
When lovely spring with her blue skies came again, Frithiof left his
kind host Angantyr and sailed over the deep billows. Full of joy is one
who has travelled far when his bark turns homeward. Memory shows
the smoke from his mother's hearth-fire and the fountain where his
childish feet played.
Six days Frithiof sailed, and on the seventh he saw his loved land. He
saluted the cliffs and the forest dancing in the sunlight, but thought of
Ingeborg. As Ellide rounded the headland, Frithiof stood at the prow,
shading his eyes from the sun and looking for his old home, loved
Framness.
But he looked in vain! Of the stately hall ashes alone remained. Sadly
did the hero thread the blackened ruins. Then his faithful dog, Bran, ran
up to welcome him. A powerful dog was he, and often had he been
master of wolves. The milk-white steed with swan-like neck and

golden mane came bounding up the valley. Both asked for food of
Frithiof, their master; but he, poorer than they, had nothing to give
them.
Then came Hilding, the foster-father with silvery hair. "My message,"
he said, "I fear will bring you little gladness. Scarce had you sailed
when King Ring came. Five shields had he to our one. Not long did the
battle last. King Helge yielded and fled. In his flight he passed
Framness and fired the lordly dwelling.
"Ring gave the brothers, Helge and Halfdan, this choice: to give their
sister to him or to lose their throne. The brothers chose, and now
Ingeborg has gone with old King Ring."
Then Frithiof blamed Ingeborg for her broken vow and declared he
would never believe her again. And yet his heart grieved for her, and he
could never forget the friend of his childhood.
"You wrong the maid," said old Hilding. "As the sea-fowl, when its
breast is wounded, dives far away from the eyes of daylight, and, with
its life-blood flowing, yet gives no sign of weakness or misery, so
Ingeborg in the darkness bore her suffering and I only saw her anguish.
When the wedding day came, she, pale as death, rode a black steed,
following the white-robed maidens and the steel-clad men.
"From off the saddle I took the sad maid and went with her to the altar,
where she uttered her vows and prayed long to Balder. When Helge
saw your ring on her arm he tore it off with angry words. Then I in
anger drew my sword, but Ingeborg gently said: 'Let the All-father
judge between him and me.'"
"The All-father will judge," calmly replied Frithiof, when Hilding had
told his story; "I, too, will judge. Now is the time when the king who
sold his sister sits in the temple of Balder as priest. Him will I seek."

Balder's Funeral Pile

Midnight's sun fell upon the mountain. The beams seemed to threaten
fire and war, so blood-red were they. The heavens glowed; it was night
contending with day.
On Balder's altar burned a fire--the emblem of the sun--and priests
stood around the wall of the temple, grasping burning brands. Near the
altar stood King Helge, wearing his crown. All at once he heard the
war-cry, and the clash of weapons resounded through the forest.
"Bjorn, stand fast by yonder door!"
Helge heard the cry and turned pale. Well he knew the ringing voice of
Frithiof. Fiercely as autumn winds fell the hero's bitter words:--
"Here's the ordered tribute; it came Safe through the tempest's rattle;
Take it; then here by Balder's flame, For life or death we'll battle.
"Shields behind us, our bosoms free, Fair the fight be reckoned; As the
king the first blow belongs to thee, Mind thou, mine's the second."
With these words he threw the purse filled with gold in Helge's face.
The heavy blow stunned the king, and he fainted near the altar. Frithiof
laughed and called in scorn: "Are you then overpowered by a purse of
gold? No one shall blame my sword for felling so cowardly a foe, for
he deserves not to fall by a brave man's sword."
Then Frithiof put up his sword and turned to the statue of Balder that
stood near the altar. Calm and kind seemed the god. On his arm was the
ring given by Frithiof to Ingeborg but taken from her by Helge.
"Holy Balder," spake Frithiof, "be not angry with thy servant. Well dost
thou