But other riddles, also, he knew well how to find out.
[CHAPTER III.]
And thus had Halfred now, for many years, roamed about as a Viking and as a Skald, and had won fame and red gold; and once more he again celebrated the Yule feast at home in his hall.
And there were very many hundred men assembled there in the Mead hall which he had fitted up. All his sailing comrades, and very many Icelanders, and many foreign guests, from Austrvegr, and even from Hylmreck, and Dyflin, on the western sea. Among them also the Skald, Vandrad, from Tiunderland.
And the Bragi cup[3] passed round, and many men vowed vows thereon, and many a one pledged himself to daring deeds, which he would perform before Midsummertide, or die. Halfred also, as well as the guests, had drunk a great deal of mead; more than he was wont to drink, as he himself, afterwards, earnestly told me.
And this also the heathen point to in him as a miraculous gift of his father Oski; that he could drink far far more than other men, in fact--and they hold him therein very lucky--as many horns full as he chose, without the heron of forgetfulness[4] sweeping through his dizzied brain.
But this is foolishly said, for even I can scare away the heron, if I, after each draught, think quietly to myself, and do not propose many toasts; for such attract the heron.
Halfred had now certainly emptied many horns; but as yet he had vowed no vow. Silent and grave he sat in the seat of the honour, as befitted the host; exhorted the tardy drinkers--there were not however many of them--by sending the cup bearer to them, with the drinking horn; and smiled quietly, when many a one vowed vows which he would never fulfil.
Then arose from his seat Vandrad the Skald, from Tiunderland, and stood upon the second step of the dais, and spoke. Halfred had vanquished him five times, and yet the Skald was a faithful loving friend to him--
"Vows have here been now vowed by many
Guests of small worth.
But Halfred, the Lord of the mead hall,
Still holds his thoughts hidden.
I laud him, most lofty,
No vows hath he need of,
His name may content him.
Yet I miss in the mead hall
One thing to the mighty,
To the man is awanting
A maiden to wife.
What rapture if only,
From the high seat of honour,
The horn to us, downward,
The dazzling white hand
Of the nobly born Princess,
Harthild, should hold."