The bear awoke then with a snarl. Randvar gasped afterwards at remembering what he would have answered if Helvin had not taken the word, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Do not grudge me one plain man, my kinswoman, while you have so many gay ones at your beck. It is at my desire he has kept on the woodland garb; that seeing how different the outside of him is from all around me, I may ever be reminded how much of new interest I have found inside him.”
Too courtly was she bred to dispute a ruler’s whim; to that she gave prompt if haughty acquiescence.
“In this as in everything, it must be done as you wish, brother, only I take it upon me to urge you to show us the inside of him as soon as you can,” she made answer. Then she passed on; and her women went rustling by, moving to laughter as to music.
Randvar’s bitter reflections were interrupted by the pressure of Helvin’s hand upon his shoulder.
“If I had not taken the word out of your mouth, my friend,” the Jarl said in his ear, “your hot head would have got you into further difficulties; but I like you none the worse for that. I liked it less when I thought that after the manner of all other men, you were going to fall on your knees to her only because she is beautiful of face. It would have been the first matter in which our minds did not match as blade matches sheath. So long as you have manfulness enough to resent her pride, I forgive it to you that her fairness has bewitched your eyes.”
Again embarrassment left the song-maker speechless. Under the Jarl’s hand he stood so constrainedly that the old men who were watching imagined him to be cast down by some rebuke, and experienced a sense of satisfaction. And their relief was no greater than his when the duties of the heir’s station put an end to further confidences.
Bearing the baton of state, two pages advanced and took their place before the Jarl’s son. While one received his sword from him with many flourishes, the other delivered to him the gilded wand. Stretching it forth, a bar of light, he gave the signal for the feasting to begin.
Like white-robed statues called to life, the thralls waiting at the doors moved forward with their burdens of gilded flagons and silver chargers. Through the fragrance of the juniper torches and the pine-tips of the floor-covering rose the savor of roasted meats and the spicy aroma of mead and wine. To the hum of blended voices was added the clink of silver-rimmed horns. The oftener the resounding salute rang out, the louder the hum arose, the merrier the laughter that burst forth where groups of young men were scattered among the old ones like poppies among wheat.
No higher note of noisy revelry was left to strike when at last the moment came for the old advice-giver, Mord, to lead the heir up into his father’s seat and put in his hands the sacred horn that he might make his inheritance-vow. From high mirth they passed to deep feeling, as each man rose holding his shining horn above his head. Excitement shook some of the young hands so that their wine was spilled—excitement and exultation at the spectacle of a young ruler in the high-seat!—and to some of the old eyes tears came unconsciously, so that they seemed to look through a mist at the figure of their old leader’s son.