After seeing this vision of the lovely temple, Frithiof, greatly
cheered, worked long to build one as beautiful as his vision. At last
it was finished, a noble work. It stood high up on the mountain cliff,
and its image was mirrored in the ocean beneath. About this glorious
temple stretched a grove of noble trees, their branches green against
the sky. Here could be heard the songs of birds, but no sound of
discord. All was harmony.
As Frithiof stood admiring the temple, he saw twelve virgins clad in
silver gauze, with roses in their hair, enter the temple and approach
the altar of Balder. About the altar they danced lightly as breezes
about a fountain, or elves amid the waving grass while dewdrops glisten
there. As Frithiof looked, all hate and vengeance faded from his heart
as ice melts from the cliff before the sun of springtime. All was
quiet,--peace and joy seemed to possess his soul. He felt love for all
nature and longed to be at peace with all God's creatures.
Then came into the temple the most high priest of Balder. Kind was his
face, and Frithiof reverenced the noble man of peace. "Son Frithiof,
welcome to this grove and temple. I have long expected thee. Weary
with travel and longing for home, the strong man at last returns from
his wanderings.
"Dost thou remember when thy heart was joyous as the birds are when
summer night winds gently rock the fragrant blossoms? Then Balder was
growing in thy pure soul. But always with the good Balder there grows
up in every human soul his brother Hoder, the evil one, the child of
night.
"No one can suffer for thy sins,--no one can atone for the living but
themselves. One offering canst thou give, more dear to the gods than
the smoke of victims. This is the sacrifice of thine own vengeance,
the hate in thy untamed heart.
"Canst thou not forgive, O youth? Be reconciled with thyself and thy
foes, and then will Balder be reconciled with thee.
"Thou hatest Bele's sons because pride of birth was theirs and they
would not give thee Ingeborg, their sister. Strange it is but true,
that no one is proud of his own merit, but only of his fortune. Art
thou not proud of thy heroic deeds, of thy great strength? But who
gave thee this strength? Is it thy merit or Odin's gift? Censure not
another's pride, lest thine own be condemned. King Helge now is
fallen."
"Fallen!" exclaimed Frithiof; "King Helge is fallen?"
"Yes, my Frithiof. Thou must know that while thou wert building this
temple, Helge was far away, marching among the Finnish mountains. On a
lonely crag of the mountains was an ancient shrine. He wished to
enter, but the gate was closed and the key fast in the lock. Helge was
angry, and, grasping the doorposts, he shook them with all his might.
All at once with horrid crash the rotten pillars gave way, and a great
image standing on the doorposts fell upon him, and crushed him to
earth. Thus he died.
"Now Halfdan sits alone upon the throne of his father. To him offer
thy hand. The god Balder demands this offering. If thou refuse, in
vain has this temple been built, and vain are thy prayers for
forgiveness."
[Illustration: INGEBORG GIVEN TO FRITHIOF]
As the noble priest thus advised, King Halfdan entered the temple, but
stood apart in silence. Frithiof at once loosed his breast-plate and
placed the bright shield against the altar. To Halfdan he offered his
hand, saying, "In such a strife the noblest first offers his hand for
peace." King Halfdan met his friend half-way, and their hands, long
separated, met in a strong clasp.
Then the priest in solemn voice proclaimed Frithiof forgiven for his
crime against Balder, the loving god, and purified from his guilt.
Scarce had the words been spoken when Ingeborg entered, attired in
bridal robes and mantle of ermine. She walked among her maids as the
moon glides in the heavenly azure attended by the radiant stars. With
tears in her lovely eyes she turned to her brother; but Halfdan clasped
her hand in Frithiof's, and thus gave his sister, the fair Ingeborg, to
the friend of their childhood, her best beloved, the noble Frithiof.