The Wanderers Necklace | Page 7

thrall who could be spared to
make ready the horses and come with us. Thora, my mother, would
have stopped us--she said she had heard from her father that such bears
were very dangerous beasts--but Ragnar only thrust her aside, while I
kissed her and told her not to fret.
Outside the hall I met Freydisa, a dark, quiet woman of middle age, one
of the virgins of Odin, whom I loved and who loved me and, save one
other, me only among men, for she had been my nurse.
"Whither now, young Olaf?" she asked me. "Has Iduna come here that
you run so fast?"
"No," I answered, "but a white bear has."
"Oh! then things are better than I thought, who feared lest it might be
Iduna before her time. Still, you go on an ill errand, from which I think
you will return sadly."
"Why do you say that, Freydisa?" I asked. "Is it just because you love
to croak like a raven on a rock, or for some good reason?"
"I don't know, Olaf," she answered. "I say things because they come to
me, and I must, that is all. I tell you that evil will be born of this bear
hunt of yours, and you had better stop at home."
"To be laughed at by my brethren, Freydisa? Moreover, you are foolish,
for if evil is to be, how can I avoid it? Either your foresight is nothing
or the evil must come."
"That is so," answered Freydisa. "From your childhood up you had the
gift of reason which is more than is granted to most of these fools about

us. Go, Olaf, and meet your fore-ordained evil. Still, kiss me before
you go lest we should not see each other again for a while. If the bear
kills you, at least you will be saved from Iduna."
Now while she said these words I was kissing Freydisa, whom I loved
dearly, but when I understood them I leapt back before she could kiss
me again.
"What do you mean by your talk about Iduna?" I asked. "Iduna is my
betrothed, and I'll suffer no ill speech of her."
"I know she is, Olaf. You've got Ragnar's leavings. Although he is so
hot-headed, Ragnar is a wise dog in some ways, who can tell what he
should not eat. There, begone, you think me jealous of Iduna, as old
women can be, but it's not that, my dear. Oh! you'll learn before all is
done, if you live. Begone, begone! I'll tell you no more. Hark, Ragnar is
shouting to you," and she pushed me away.
It was a long ride to where the bear was supposed to be. At first as we
went we talked a great deal, and made a wager as to which of the three
of us should first drive a spear into the beast's body so deep that the
blade was hidden, but afterwards I grew silent. Indeed, I was musing so
much of Iduna and how the time drew near when once more I should
see her sweet face, wondering also why Ragnar and Freydisa should
think so ill of her who seemed a goddess rather than a woman, that I
forgot all about the bear. So completely did I forget it that when, being
by nature very observant, I saw the slot of such a beast as we passed a
certain birch wood, I did not think to connect it with that which we
were hunting or to point it out to the others who were riding ahead of
me.
At length we came to the sea, and there, sure enough, saw a great ice-
floe, which now and again tilted as the surge caught its broad green
flank. When it tilted towards us we perceived a track worn deep into
the ice by the paws of the prisoned bear as it had marched endlessly
round. Also we saw a big grinning skull, whereon sat a raven picking at
the eye-holes, and some fragments of white fur.

"The bear is dead!" exclaimed Ragnar. "Odin's curse be on that club-
footed fool who gave us this cold ride for nothing."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Steinar doubtfully. "Don't you think that it is
dead, Olaf?"
"What is the good of asking Olaf?" broke in Ragnar, with a loud laugh.
"What does Olaf know about bears? He has been asleep for the last
half-hour dreaming of Athalbrand's blue-eyed daughter; or perhaps he
is making up another poem."
"Olaf sees farther when he seems asleep than some of us do when we
are awake," answered Steinar hotly.
"Oh yes," replied Ragnar. "Sleeping or waking, Olaf is perfect in your
eyes, for you've drunk the same milk, and that ties you tighter than a