How Sir Otto arrived in Norway.
It happened on a warm evening in the month of May, that Otto had fallen
asleep on deck, and it might be already towards morning, when the cool
sea-breeze came over his face and awoke him. He raised himself up, and
the light of the full moon, which still shone in the south, revealed
a range of high rocky cliffs between him and the blue northern skies.
Great forests of pine and beech-trees waved on the lofty summits, and
among them were seen at intervals the outlines of massive fortresses
and watch-towers; while eagles, and other birds that nestled among
the rocks, came forth, hovering and screaming around the vessel.
Perceiving all this, the young knight was at once awed and delighted;
taking up his harp, which lay beside him, he sung an address to the
woods, the foaming waves, the precipitous rocks, and clear moonlight
of Norway, being well aware that he had now arrived at the place of
his destination. Accordingly, Sir Arinbiorn struck up a few stanzas,
bidding him welcome to his native land, where the bold champions, the
heaven-inspired bards, with their brimming goblets filled with mead,
and their bright gleaming hearths, were waiting to receive him.
The sea-monarch now stood at the helm, with his own hand guiding his
vessel towards the beloved shore. Already they had drawn near to a
level ground at the foot of the rocks, and prepared to cast anchor,
when Sir Arinbiorn, cased as he was in armour, sprang overboard and
swam to land, while, as the rest came after him in boats, he blew
loud and joyful notes on his hunting-horn, to welcome them, and to
announce his arrival. Aloft, amid the darkness of the beech forests,
many lights like stars now began to break forth; and these, Sir Otto
soon perceived, came from the numerous windows of a large fortress.
At the same time he heard a joyous answer returned to Sir Arinbiorn’s
salutation, by a great blowing of horns from the high cliffs. There was
the trampling too of horses, with the clank of their riders’ armour, as
they made their way down the steep rocky path from the castle. Hereupon
the sea-monarch, with a look of triumph and delight, said to Sir Otto,
“You behold now the venerable mansion of my ancestors; and there you
shall find, that we have not yet forgotten the martial and brave
exercises of olden times.”
Meanwhile their two war-steeds had been disembarked, and the squires
led them backwards and forwards on the shore, that they might recover
from the fatigue of their confinement on shipboard. I was long ere
Sir Otto’s wild light-brown horse could regain his usual spirits; he
stumbled and tottered about; while the sea-monarch’s dun charger,
well accustomed to such voyages, exhibited all his usual agility, and
neighed aloud, as if exulting in his triumph over his former adversary.
The castellan, attended by many warriors, had come down to the shore,
respectfully greeting their master and his guest, with the young
Sir Kolbein; while, at the same time, they welcomed back, with less
ceremony, their own equals and brethren in arms. For the latter, they
had brought led horses along with them; and in a short time a large
party were mounted, and galloped gayly up the steep ascent towards the
castle. In half an hour, they had arrived at the long echoing archway,
through which they trotted into a large court, now brightly illumined
with torches. Here, on one side, was visible the wide entrance of a
spacious vault, in which a great fire of turf was now blazing; and
from hence a tall man, black as a Moor, made his appearance; and,
notwithstanding his strange looks, stepped up with knightly dignity
and assurance, offering his hand to Sir Arinbiorn. The latter took it
without hesitation, saying, at the same time, “Good morrow, Asmandur,
noblest of armourers! say how many weapons and cuirasses hast thou
completed while we have been absent?” “Methinks I have prepared death
for many of thy foes,” replied Asmandur, nodding his head with an air
of confidence. “I have brought here a friend of mine who requires thine
aid,” said the sea-monarch, pointing to Sir Otto. “The sword which
now hangs at his side has been broken by a blow of my battle-axe, and
methinks it could by means of thy art be joined together again, and
made better than ever.” “Ay, ay, if it be worth that labour,” said
the armourer; “for doubtless I could as easily make a new one. Let me
look once at the sword.” Otto drew out one-half, and shaking his head
mournfully, let the other fall from the scabbard. The armourer looked
at both with attention, and then said, “If the wearer be like to his
sword, then both together will scarcely find their equals in this
world. Truly I might have known that he who is Sir Arinbiorn’s guest,
and to whom, as I perceive, a battle-axe of my workmanship has been
intrusted, was doubtless a brave and noble champion. Yet because it is
not for every one that I am willing to exercise my art, nor do I work
at all but for the best and most victorious knights; so, methinks, I
would wish to see some trial of his skill in the first place.” “On that
head, Asmandur,” answered Sir Arinbiorn, “I can pledge my word that he
shall afford thee ample satisfaction. Yet surely thou wilt allow, that
he should first have time to recover from the fatigues of his voyage on
our wild north seas.” The armourer nodded his head in token of assent,
and was about to retire into his vaulted hall; but Sir Otto called
aloud, “Wherefore should I first have time to rest?--he were indeed a
pitiful combatant, who, by means of a short sea-voyage, should lose all
his strength! Come on then. The morning is already so light, that the
torches are needless. Whosoever is inclined for warlike pastime, let
him know that I am ready to give him satisfaction.”
“Yet, methinks, as a stranger, you cannot will be acquainted with our
mode of combat,” said Arinbiorn.
“Wherefore should not I be so?” answered Sir Otto; “was it then
in vain that my father travelled through these foreign lands? On
the contrary, he well knew all their warlike arts and manners, and
carefully instructed me therein. But what exercise is there among you
with which you suppose that I am unacquainted? Do you mean, perchance,
the throwing of these long javelins, of which there is a heap lying in
that corner?”--So with the speed of light he darted from his horse,
seized one of the spears, and hurled it from him with such force, that
it went singing through the air across the castle-court, and struck
deep into an old elm-tree at the opposite side. Not attending to the
astonishment of the Normans, Sir Otto then said,--“You must not judge
me too severely by this first trial. I am, it is true, somewhat out of
practice, and I have only done this in order to convince you that the
northern mode of conflict is to me not unknown.”--So then all the young
champions who were there present looked on Sir Otto as a chosen hero,
and vied with each other who should have the honour of meeting him in
the lists. Mid-day at last drew on, and the Knight of Trautwangen was
never wearied of the northern pastimes of throwing the javelin,--of
wrestling, or of fighting with the blunted broad-sword. As little did
Asmandur seem tired of admiring the prowess of the victorious young
hero. At length the black-visaged armourer himself came forward to
try his fortune.--“I know very well,” said he to Sir Otto, “that thou
wilt be the conqueror; yet, methinks, it must be a pleasure to try
the effect of such noble and chivalrous blows as those which thou
hast dealt about this day; and though I would willingly prove to
you in good time that, above all things in the world, I am a skilful
swordsmith, yet I should meanwhile gladly shew, that I can also wield
arms when it is needful to do so.”--It happened as Asmandur had said.
From Sir Otto’s arm he was forced to receive many powerful blows, any
one of which, had the sword been sharp, might have cost him his life.
At last, however, notwithstanding the bravery of his defence, his
weapon was struck out of his hand, and sent away nine yards distant
across the court. Afterwards, in a wrestling-match, though he failed
not to do his utmost, yet at last he was overthrown in the sand, and
Sir Otto held him by the legs and arms motionless.--“Let me go,” said
Asmandur, breathless; and as Sir Otto lifted him up, he added,--“Yet,
on the evening of this very day I shall prepare thy battle-sword, thou
hero! and at the mid-day banquet, over the wine-cups, we shall sit
together; for, methinks, thy strength will as little yield to the
fiery juice of the grape, or to the foaming mead which we northern
heroes are wont to quaff, as it has done to the powerful champions with
whom thou hast this day contended.”