In the kingdom of the north reigned King Ring. Old was he now and
white-haired, but noble and brave. At the merry Yuletime he held a
great feast in the royal hall. High on the throne of state he sat, and
beside him was his fair young queen, the gentle Ingeborg.
Into the spacious hall came a man unknown to any there. A bear-skin
covered him from head to foot. He leaned heavily upon a staff, but
even then he was taller than any warrior in the hall. He chose for
rest a seat upon the bench beside the door. This is now the poor man's
place and has always been. Some of the young men laughed at the beggar
dressed in the skin of the wild bear and pointed the finger at him.
[Illustration: INTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THERE]
The stranger's eyes flashed and all felt his anger. Quickly he seized
one of the young men by the belt and shook him so that all were
suddenly silent in the hall.
"What causes such commotion?" cried the angry monarch. "Who dares
disturb our peace? Old man, come here and answer. What is your name,
your place, your errand?"
The old man replied: "Many questions you ask, O King, but every one
will I answer. My name belongs to me alone and I'll not give it. My
birth-place was misfortune and all I possess is want. I have come
hither from the wolf so fierce and gaunt. In youth I bestrode a dragon
on the blue waters, but now I am old and feeble and must live upon the
land. As to my errand, I came to see your wisdom, renowned far and
near. When your men met me rudely I seized one of them by the girdle
and hurled him to the ground. For that forgive me, though the man is
safe and sound."
"Your words are wisely chosen," said King Ring. "The aged should be
honoured; come, sit here by me. You are no beggar, I know. Throw off
your disguise and appear in your true form. Disguise is a foe to
pleasure, and pleasure should rule at Yule-tide."
Then the guest dropped the bear-skin. Instead of an old man bent with
care, there stood a handsome youth with long golden locks. His mantle
was of azure velvet and his girdle was of silver finely worked. Around
his arm clung a heavy golden circlet and at his side gleamed the great
battle-sword.
When the queen looked at the guest she knew him as Frithiof, but
mentioned not his name. It was the right of a guest to claim
hospitality without giving his name, and Frithiof had claimed this
guest-right. The horn sounded a shrill blast in the hall and all was
still. The hour for vows was coming and the boar was now brought in.
His four knees were bent beneath him on the great silver dish; in his
mouth was an apple, and there were wreaths about his neck.
King Ring, his grey locks flowing, arose and straightway now
The boar's head gently touching, he thus declared his vow:
"I swear to conquer Frithiof, the champion in war,
So help me, Frey and Odin, and likewise mighty Thor."
Then with a smile defiant uprose the stranger tall
A look of wrath heroic spread o'er his features all--
He smote with sword the table till through the hall it rang
And up from oaken benches the steel-clad warriors sprang.
"And now, Sir King, please listen while I my vow shall tell--
Young Frithiof is my kinsman, and so I know him well;
'Gainst all the world I'll shield him, I give you here in word,
So help me now my norn, and likewise my good sword!"
The king laughed at this bold defiance. "Right daring, methinks your
speech," he said, "but in the Northland palace all fair words are
free." Then turning to the queen he bade her fill a horn of wine, the
very best. "I hope that he'll remain our guest through the winter," he
concluded.
The queen then took the great goblet and filled it with wine. With
trembling hand she gave it to the guest. He accepted the horn with a
bow of reverence and drank the wine at a draught in honour of the fair
queen who gave it.
Then the skald, the singer of the royal court, touched the strings of
his harp and sang a song of love and glory. As he sang he moved the
warriors' hearts to pity or roused them to anger and revenge at his
will. Such is the wonderful power of music and poetry. He sang of the
home in Valhal, where brave heroes go after death, and all hearts were
filled with a desire to be brave and noble that they might deserve a
place in heaven when their work on earth was finished.
So with mirth and song, with stories of the great heroes of their race,
King Ring and his court kept the merry Yule-tide in his castle.