“Alas for this love of thine!” cried Hilding. “I fear me ’twill bear thee naught but thorns. My old eyes were dim that I saw not what mischief was brewing.”
“Nay, father, say not so!” answered Frithiof. “Never till this day have I thought to win Ingeborg for my wife. ’Tis but now my heart hath revealed its yearnings for her and her alone in all the world. But I swear to thee by all the gods that never shall her image be banished thence. If need be, my sword shall be my wooer. Aye! I would contend for her with the Thunder-God himself; nor will I give her up so long as life shall last. Yet of this I will say naught to her father, but sue for her in due form after the manner of our forefathers.”
As Frithiof thus spoke, Ingeborg sat in her chamber, her thoughts also busy with him. In his form she seemed to see the fair young god Balder, and prayed the gods to guard the noble youth and grant him fame and honor.
Chapter III
King Bele and Thorsten
King Bele and Thorsten, his faithful old brother-in-arms, were now bowed with the weight of years, like two ruined temples upon whose walls are graven runes of wisdom still powerful to stir the hearts of reverent beholders.
One day the King said to Thorsten: “My friend, the evening of life draws on; no longer has the mead its wonted flavor, and heavy grows the helm upon my weary head. The world grows dim before my eyes, but clear and bright toward me streams the light of Valhalla. Therefore I have summoned our sons hither. As we have ever stood fast by each other, so it is my wish that they should do. With this and other matters I would charge the young eagles ere my lips are sealed by death.”
The three youths soon entered the royal hall, Helge, the eldest first. Pale and gloomy of countenance was he, as if the terrors of the death-kingdom had set their seal upon him. With blood-stained hands, fresh from the sacrificial grove he came, for he was wont to tarry there, communing with seers and soothsayers. Behind him followed Halfdan, his brother, whose bright locks framed a face noble, indeed, of feature but weak and effeminate in expression. The sword at his side seemed worn but in jest, and he looked like some fair maid who had sportively donned the garb of a hero. Last came Frithiof, a blue mantle hanging from his shoulders and taller by a head than his companions. As the three stood before the King, it was like the bright noonday between rosy morn and dusky night.
Then the King began: “My end is nigh, O sons, wherefore I charge ye, govern the land in harmony; for union is like the lance-ring, without which the strength of the lance is lost. Let force stand guard before the country’s gate; but within its boundaries cherish the holy blossoms of peace. Lift not your swords save against the foe. Let your shields be the safeguard of the peasant’s home. A foolish prince is he who oppresses his own people; for as their strength is, so is his own. The leafy crown of a tree whose sapless trunk is rooted in bare rock soon withers. Four pillars of stone support the dome of heaven; the throne rests only upon one, the law. Woe to the land where violence reigns; for thereby shall both ruler and people perish.
“The gods, O Helge, do indeed dwell in temples, but not in them alone. So far as voice can reach, so far as the sun’s golden beams can penetrate, or the thoughts of man can fly, so wide are the halls of their boundless sanctuaries. The blood of sacrificial victims oft deceives; runes, howsoever deeply graven, sometimes prove false; but upon a just and upright heart, O Helge, Odin hath inscribed runes which god and man may trust. As flowers adorn the brazen shield, so doth gentleness become strength. It is not Winter, but balmy Spring, that opens the bud of life. Make to yourself true friends! A friendless chief, be he ever so mighty, is like a tree whose bark has been stripped away by storms; but he who is blessed with true friendship is like the forest giant, shielded from tempests by the companions that surround it. Boast not of thy ancestors’ deeds and honors. What avails the heritage of a mighty bow which thou hast neither the strength nor the skill to bend? The fame of thy sires rests with them in the grave: in its own waves the rushing stream flows onward to the sea!” Then turning to his second son the King continued: “Thou too, O Halfdan, hear my words and treasure them in thy heart. A pleasant wit is the adornment of the wise; but idle chatter befits none, least of all a prince’s son. Honey is sweet; but without hops no mead can be brewed. Put steel into thy sword, Halfdan, and earnestness into thy play! Never yet lived there man who knew too much, however famed for wisdom; but countless is the number of those who know too little. Disregarded at the feast sits the fool who holds the seat of honor by right of birth alone; ’tis to the wise man the guests lend ear, however lowly be his seat. Choose not every man to be thy blood-brother: an empty house stands open to all who pass; the rich man’s door is barred. Entrust thy confidence to but one; what is known to three is known to all the world.”
The old King ceased, and Thorsten arose. “To permit thee, King Bele, to wander alone through Odin’s halls, befits not one who hath ever been thy comrade upon earth. Together we have shared life’s changes, and in death methinks we shall not be parted.”