Frey and His Wife

by Maurice Hewlett

She decided that he should stay on until the winter feasts began. "And then we will see what can be done. Maybe he will be more used to you by then."

"Oh, as for him," Gunnar said lightly, "he has had a fine cloak from me, and I suppose that is enough."

She frowned, and tossed her foot. "You don't know Frey yet."

Then came the hour of sacrifice and a leading-in of sick animals to be blessed by Frey. Gunnar was very useful here, for he was skilled in farriery, and could do much too with sheep and cattle. They called him the new priest of Frey, and held him in great honour. But the more that they thought of Frey on his account the less, naturally, Gunnar thought of him on his own. He did not now believe that even a devil resided in him, or found it difficult of belief. Frey had the appearance of frowning sometimes, and sometimes there seemed to be a red flame in his eyes. Another thing he could do with his eyes: he could cause them to follow you all over the room. Those eyes of his were for ever upon Gunnar and Sigrid so that they used to say to each other, "We can't talk here. Let us go into the gallery." She never said, "Let us go into the chamber," and it never entered Gunnar's mind to propose it. But it had entered into hers.

Gunnar, however, began to dislike Frey. He despised him, and yet found that added to his dislike. He told himself that Sigrid's marriage was a black shame.

After he had been with her a while she told him what she knew about herself. She had never known her father, nor even what his name was. Her mother had been called Sea-child; and Sigrid remembered being carried on her back, slung in a shawl. Her mother had had black hair and yellow eyes which looked black in the dark, and as pale as the palest amber in strong light. She was rather tall, whereas Sigrid—who also had black hair and amber eyes, though of a darker tint—was a little woman. She thought that she remembered her mother saying that they had crossed the sea; and that somebody, her mother or an old man who used to be with them sometimes, had spoken of a city called Prag. She thought that this must be true, because she had never heard anybody in Sweden speak of Prag, and doubted she could have made up the name for herself. Gunnar told her that she had not. "There is a city called Prag, on a mighty river. I have seen the river," he said, "but not the city of Prag."

Well then she told him that the Swedes had ill-treated the old man who used to be with them. They had put him into an osier basket, and pierced that through and through with swords; she remembered the bright blood welling out between the plaited wicker. That had been done upon the altar of a God—she believed it was Frey. As for her mother, some man had taken her to live in his house, and she herself had lain about with the cattle, and had been sent to keep swine in the woods. Nobody had hurt her, but she had gone in terror of wolves, which in winter were dangerous, and came sometimes into the villages and carried off children from the doorways. They were so hungry that even when they were beaten off they only ran to a little distance, and then came back again to snuff about for what there might be in their way.

Then she remembered a day when her mother brought her into the house, and took off her rags, and put a new gown on her. She twisted up her hair into a long plait, and made her see if she could still sit upon it. That was easy. After that she was kept at home with the children of the house; and men used to take notice of her, kiss her and take her on their knees. She had liked that for a time, because she liked people who were kind and friendly; but there was too much of it, and she used to run away and hide herself.

There had been a lad, she said, called Tostig, belonging to the household of her mother's husband. He had been in love with her, she supposed. At any rate he was always in her company, and she had liked him very well. One day when they were all in the temple before Frey, with garlands of flowers, his eyes had burned fiercely, and by and by he fell forward upon Tostig and knocked him down. They picked up Frey; and the priests said that Tostig was to be sacrificed. That was done. They put him in an osier basket and transpierced it with their swords. After that Frey's eyes were cool and steady, and nothing more occurred until the following spring when Frey was to have started on his rounds to bless the vegetation. Then again when they were in the temple his eyes burned, and again he fell, this time upon herself. She was thrown backwards and Frey upon her. Then she believed that her last hour was at hand; but her mother was shrill and urgent with the priests, calling them fools. She said that Frey had been jealous of Tostig and fell upon him on that account; but he fell upon Sigrid for no reason of that sort, but to mark her for his own. Sigrid, she said, was now marriageable. Frey wanted to marry her, and to disoblige him would be at their peril. There was high debate about all this, and other priests from other villages were called in. Frey was asked, and they say that he nodded his head. She herself was not asked; but she was taken into the temple one night by her mother and told what she would have to do. On the next day was the wedding and great rejoicings all over the forest country.