And forthwith it became known that Halfred had armed the best of his
house churls, and his followers, with good weapons, to set forth as a
Viking to conquer, and as a Skald to sing.
And over the whole of Iceland, and the islands all around, there was
much talk about the Singing Swan, which "Oski"[1] himself--that is the
god of the heathen people--had sent to Halfred Hamundson. "He is the
son of Oski; nothing shall miscarry with him, be it man's hate, or
woman's love, in sword thrusts, or in harp playing; great treasure and
rich Skald rewards shall he win, and his gentle hand can take and
spend, but keep nothing."
And now there came many, drawn to him by the wish to be his sailing
comrades, even from the furthest islands of the western sea, so that he
could have manned seven ships. He manned, however, only the Singing
Swan, with three hundred men whom he chose himself, and with them he
set sail upon the sea.
And now there would be much which might be told about the great
victories which Halfred won, through many long years, with hammer
and harp, on all the seas from Mikilgard--which the Latins call
Byzantium--even to the island of Hibernia, in the far west.
And of all these feats and victories, voyages and minstrelsy, and
contests of arms and harp playing, had I, as a child by the cloister
hearth, heard the Skalds sing, and wandering guests recount, long
before I looked into Halfred's sea-grey eyes.
For during the long time that he was wholly lost sight of, and the
Singing Swan had vanished in flames, and all people held Halfred for
dead, the Skalds composed many songs about him. But that was later.
At that time Halfred thus roamed about everywhere, singing and
triumphing, winning fights at sea, and contests in palaces. And because
he was victor over all the Skalds in singing competitions, the people
named him "Sigskald," and from that, the heathen people, prophesying
backwards, invented, perhaps, that fable about the elf which had given
him honey, and his name, in the cradle.
And he amassed great spoils, and many hundred rings of red gold, and
gave them all away again to his sailing comrades. And yet he still
heaped up rich hords upon the Singing Swan; and brought also much
treasure to Hamund's hall, where he was wont to pass the winter.
And he splendidly improved the hall, and built over against it a great
Mead hall, in which a thousand men could drink: and six steps led to
the seat of honour in the Mead hall.
But the most costly thing among all his spoils was a
candelabrum--"Lampas" the Greeks call it--half as high as a man, of
pure gold, with seven flaming arms, which far away, in the land of
Greece, he had borne away from a marble city that he had burned.
And this treasure Halfred himself prized highly, who otherwise cared
nothing for gold. And at the Yule feast, and the Midsummer feast, and
at all high festivals, it must stand close before him upon the table,
with its sevenfold flame.
But that at which everyone wondered most was, that all people who saw
Halfred, and heard him sing, seemed to be forced to be friendly to him.
It often happened that even the Skalds whom he vanquished in song
contests, themselves conceived great love for him, and praised his
strains more than their own.
But this is truly the most incredible thing that can be told of Skalds.
Compared to this it is a small thing that a wooer whom he had
supplanted in a woman's favour should become his friend and blood
brother. But that was later.
And, indeed, because everything seemed miraculous, those heathen people
invented that legend that he was the son of Oski, and that therefore
neither men's wrath nor maiden's pride could withstand him; that a god
was throned upon his forehead, who dazzled all eyes; with many more
such fables.
Above all they say that his smile could conquer all hearts, as the
midsummer sun melts the ice.
And about this also they tell a story.
That is, that once, in the depth of winter, he found at the foot of
Snaeja-Tjoell, a little maiden of five years old, nearly frozen to
death. She had strayed from her mother's cottage, and could not find
the way back.
And although Halfred was very weary, and had many followers with him,
he sent them all nevertheless alone to the hall, took the child himself
upon his shoulder, and travelled many stages further, always tracking
the tiny footprints of the little maiden, who had fallen fast asleep,
until he found her mother's cottage. And he laid the child in the
mother's arms, and she woke and smiled. And the mother wished for him,
as a reward, that he should smile henceforth like a child that sees its
mother again. And this also had Oski granted to him.
But this is a mere idle tale of the heathen people; for there is no
Oski; and no heathen gods; and perchance also no[2] .... I say that he
carried the child back himself, carefully, to the mother. Many a Viking
would only, from compassion, have thrust her deeper in the snow; the
best would have given her to one of his followers to carry to the hall.
But to carry her back, himself, through the snow, to her mother, that
would no Viking have done that I know; above all when he was tired and
hungry.
I say, then, in Halfred there was great goodness of heart, such as is
generally wont to be found alone in innocent children; and therefore
his smile was heart-winning, as is a child's smile. And out of this,
therefore, have the heathen people invented that gift of Oski.
For that he did carry the child to the mother, that I certainly,
myself, fully and undoubtingly believe of Halfred. And I would be the
last not to believe it of him.
Nevertheless he could become suddenly very wrathful, when the veins in
his temples swelled. Then, often, if any enemy roused him by defiance,
he would dash, blindly raging, among the spears, like a Berseker.
Over and above all this, they tell many tales of the god-like gifts
which made maidens love him. But that is not a miracle, as it comes
very near being that a conquered singer should love him.
For he possessed a brilliant noble countenance, which no one forgot who
had once seen it, and a heart-winning soft, yet powerful voice. He
avoided rude jesting; and he could always divine what was the peculiar
charm of every fair maiden's beauty; and he knew how to put it to her
as a riddle, over which she herself had long been vainly pondering.
But other riddles, also, he knew well how to find out.