Frithiof laughed grimly. “I be thy vassal? Nay—I am a man for myself, even as was my father. Out, Angurvadel, from thy sheath!”
Bright flashed the blade in the sunlight, the runes glowing fiery red. “Now, Angurvadel, let us see if any shall deny that thou at least art high-born and noble! As for thee, King Helge, stood we not upon this sacred mound, I would smite thee to the dust! Take heed, hereafter, that thou come not too near my blade!”
With one blow Frithiof clove in twain Helge’s golden shield, that hung upon an oak tree, and the two halves fell with a crash that awakened hollow echoes from the vault below.
“Well struck, my sword!” cried Frithiof; “hide now thy gleam and dream thou of exploits more noble!”
FRITHIOF’S wooing
Terror seized Helge and his followers, and all looked on silently while Frithiof returned to his ship and was borne swiftly away over the water out to the deep blue sea.
Chapter VI
King Ring
There reigned at this time in the far North a King named Ring, no longer young, but gentle and kindly as Balder himself, and sage as Mimir, who guards the fount of Wisdom. His realm was peaceful as a grove of the gods. The greenwood never echoed to the clash of arms, nor were the cornfields trampled by the hoofs of battle steeds. Justice held sway upon the Seat of Judgment about which the people gathered to hold their Ting, or general assembly, where each man had a voice in the affairs of the kingdom. Thither came many a white-sailed vessel, bringing treasures from a hundred coasts, in exchange for the country’s rich abundance. Wisely and well had King Ring guided the destinies of his people for more than thirty years, and prayers for his welfare ascended daily to Odin’s throne.
One day the King sat with his warriors in the royal hall. Long was the feast, and many a horn of foaming mead was drained; but at last he pushed back his gold chair from the board, while all the chiefs arose to do honor to the words of their lord. Sighing deeply, he began: