And thus had Halfred now, for many years, roamed about as a Viking and
as a Skald, and had won fame and red gold; and once more he again
celebrated the Yule feast at home in his hall.
And there were very many hundred men assembled there in the Mead hall
which he had fitted up. All his sailing comrades, and very many
Icelanders, and many foreign guests, from Austrvegr, and even from
Hylmreck, and Dyflin, on the western sea. Among them also the Skald,
Vandrad, from Tiunderland.
And the Bragi cup[3] passed round, and many men vowed vows thereon, and
many a one pledged himself to daring deeds, which he would perform
before Midsummertide, or die. Halfred also, as well as the guests, had
drunk a great deal of mead; more than he was wont to drink, as he
himself, afterwards, earnestly told me.
And this also the heathen point to in him as a miraculous gift of his
father Oski; that he could drink far far more than other men, in
fact--and they hold him therein very lucky--as many horns full as he
chose, without the heron of forgetfulness[4] sweeping through his
dizzied brain.
But this is foolishly said, for even I can scare away the heron, if I,
after each draught, think quietly to myself, and do not propose many
toasts; for such attract the heron.
Halfred had now certainly emptied many horns; but as yet he had vowed
no vow. Silent and grave he sat in the seat of the honour, as befitted
the host; exhorted the tardy drinkers--there were not however many of
them--by sending the cup bearer to them, with the drinking horn; and
smiled quietly, when many a one vowed vows which he would never fulfil.
Then arose from his seat Vandrad the Skald, from Tiunderland, and stood
upon the second step of the dais, and spoke. Halfred had vanquished him
five times, and yet the Skald was a faithful loving friend to him--
"Vows have here been now vowed by many
Guests of small worth.
But Halfred, the Lord of the mead hall,
Still holds his thoughts hidden.
I laud him, most lofty,
No vows hath he need of,
His name may content him.
Yet I miss in the mead hall
One thing to the mighty,
To the man is awanting
A maiden to wife.
What rapture if only,
From the high seat of honour,
The horn to us, downward,
The dazzling white hand
Of the nobly born Princess,
Harthild, should hold."
All the guests kept silence when Vandrad had spoken. Halfred looked
proudly down upon him, and very gently, he told me later, he felt the
veins in his temples swell, as, smiling, he asked the Skald--but it was
the smile of a king, not a child's smile--
"And what then of Harthild,
Her beauty and fame,
Canst thou here sound the praise,
In Halfred's mead hall?"
Then said Vandrad--
"For all that thou knowest,
Thou far roaming Viking,
Hast thou never heard Harthild's
Descent and renown
Proclaimed on the harp?
From Upsala's ancient
Deep rooted stem
The maiden is sprung.
Hartstein the Haggard,
Men call her father,
The powerful monarch
Of far spreading fame.
His daughter close guarded
He haughtily holds;
All wooers rejecting,
Who cannot excel him
In throwing the hammer.
And no less the maiden
All men avoideth,
Man-like her own mood.
With good cause she boasteth
Herself in deep riddles
Above all the Skalds
Skilful to be.
'Breaker of men's wits'
In dread and in envy,
They call her in Nordland.
To every wooer
Who fain her proud spirit
In wedlock would bind,
Tells she the same
Close sealed riddle;
For none--not the wisest--
Has ever yet solved it.
Then scornfully laughing,
With her sharp scissors,
--For so runs the statute--
To shame him, she sheareth
From the hero his hair."
Then Halfred's temple veins swelled fearfully. He shook back the thick
black locks which flowed down even to his shoulders, and drained off a
deep drinking horn. Then he sprang from his seat, and seized the Bragi
cup, on which vows were wont to be vowed. Once more he paused, set down
the Bragi cup again, and asked--
"But Skald, say now, quickly,
--Oft hast thou seen her--
This men avoider.
Beautiful is she?
This breaker of men's wits,
Would the bride's wreath become her?"
Vandrad replied--
"Nor soft nor gentle,
Is she, nor lovely,
But proud and stately
Stands her tall form.
Nor could another
Carry so fitly
The crown of a king."
Then Halfred again took up the Bragi cup, strode forward to the highest
step which led to his seat of honour, and paused where exactly in the
centre was burned into the oaken floor a circle, in red runes, so small
that a man could only tread therein with one foot. Halfred kneeled
down, planted his left foot within the circle, and lifted the Bragi cup
in his right hand, high above his head.
And all were very eager to hear what he would now say; for this was the
strongest, the most solemn form in which vow could be vowed. And
Halfred said--
"Ere yet the on coming
Midsummer tide
Shall sink in the sea,
Will I bring Harthild,
The daughter of Hartstein,
Here as my wife,
To dwell in my hall,
Or hold me shall Hell.
"Her wit-breaking sayings
Will I lay bare,
Her runic riddles
Will I unfold.
Unshamed, and unshaven,
These black locks shake freely.
Her man-despising
Maiden mood quelling,
My wedded wife
Will force her to be.
The breaker of men's wits
Will I break in.
A right noble heir
Of all that I own
She shall here, in my hall,
Soon cherish, my son.
And softly shall sing him
To sleep with the songs
Of his father's great deeds,
Or hold me shall Hell."
Thus ended the Yule feast, at that time; for all the guests started up
from their seats with a great uproar, in a confused throng, and drank
to Halfred, and shouted that this was the best and most admirable vow
which in the memory of man had been vowed in the north.
And the tumult was so great that Halfred had to command silence from
the dais, and very soon to send round the parting cup to the uproarious
heroes.
And Halfred told me that when, under the light of the stars, he crossed
the court to his dwelling-house, he repented of his vow. Not because he
feared King Hartstein's hammer-throwing, or dreaded his daughter's
riddle. But because it is always wiser for a man to see a maiden,
before he determines to make her his wife.