Frithiof's Return
The winter passed, and again were hill and valley, grove and forest,
clothed with bloom and verdure. Then Frithiof thanked his host, and,
bidding him farewell, was soon speeding joyously away across the foaming
main. Six times the sun rose and set, and the seventh morning found him
near his journey's end. Consumed with longing, Frithiof rose early and
mounted to the deck. There, veiled in the mists of dawn, he saw his
native shores and heard the familiar rushing of its mountain streams.
Light as a bird flew "Ellida" o'er the dancing waves and in her swelling
sails the western breezes sang like nightingales. Just as the first ray
of sunlight fell on land and sea they entered the well-known haven.
"Past the green birch woods now," cried Frithiof to Bjorn, "and Framnas
greets me!"
With beating heart and gleaming eyes he waited--but what is this? Is he
bewitched? There lies the open space where his forefathers built their
dwelling, yet naught is to be seen of it. Do his eyes deceive him? He
rubs them and looks again at the familiar spot; but neither house nor
building of any kind is there, only a tall blackened chimney stands out
dark against the sky. Looking closer, where Framnas stood, he sees a
great pile of ruins, from which the ashes whirl aloft.
"Ellida's" anchor is dropped, and silently Frithiof approaches the scene
of devastation. Stones and charred beams are strewn around or heaped
together in confusion; fruit trees stretch forth their shrivelled
branches; about the levelled grave-mounds lie the bones of heroes. As
Frithiof stands spellbound amid the desolation, his faithful hound Bran
comes bounding to meet him. Yelping with joy he leaps upon his master,
while out from the dale trots a milk-white courser, neighing and tossing
his gold-knotted mane. Frithiof stroked the dog's head and patted his
favorite's glossy neck; but the shadow on his brow remained unaltered.
Then he saw Hilding, his aged foster-father coming toward him with
mournful look.
"Welcome, father, to the ruins of Framnas!" he cried, and then added
bitterly: "But why should this sight surprise me? 'Tis when the eagle is
flown that boys plunder his nest. So thus doth King Helge guard the hut
of the peasant; thus he keeps his royal oath! Rage at his dastardly act
more moves me than grief for what is lost. But tell me first of all,
good father, where is Ingeborg?"
"Alas! my son," replied Hilding, "I fear my tidings will but aggravate
thy woe, yet listen to what has passed. Scarce wert thou gone when King
Ring invaded the country, his force outnumbering ours full five to one.
In the Disardale we met, and bloody was the battle. The waters of the
stream ran red with gore. Halfdan, as ever, laughed and jested; but so
bravely did he bear him, my heart was gladdened at the sight, and twice
did my shield protect him from a death-stroke. The victory might even
have been ours, had not King Helge, seized with panic, fled; whereat the
people's courage, too, forsook them, and, flinging down their arms, they
scattered far and wide. But in his flight King Helge paused to fire thy
house. Ring then demanded of the brothers lands and crown, or that they
yield him up their sister's hand. Messengers went often to and fro, and
in the end King Ring bore Ingeborg homeward as his Queen."
Frithiof laughed wildly: "Who now," he cried, "dare talk to me of
woman's truth, since she whom I deemed true as Nanna's self hath proven
faithless? Hereafter naught but hate for mankind shall my bosom harbor;
henceforth the seas shall have their fill of blood, for none who cross
my path shall Angurvadel spare!"
"Nay, son," said Hilding sorrowfully, "abate thy wrath, nor seek to
revenge thy wrongs upon the innocent. Rather accuse the Norns, whose
doom on thee hath fallen. What Ingeborg doth suffer I alone can tell.
Before all others her despair was dumb as is the turtle dove that mourns
her mate. So doth the sea fowl, pierced by death's arrow, sink beneath
the waves, in those cool depths to pour away her life. 'Atonement'--so
she spake--'hath been decreed by Balder for Frithiof's violation of his
holy place; nor may I, faint-hearted, seek to shun the sacrifice. To
death he dooms me, not swift,--ah! that were easy,--but lingering--slow,
to waste away with grief. To that decree I yield. Reveal to no one what
I suffer. I desire pity from none. But be thou the bearer of my last
farewell to Frithiof.'
"At last the wedding day was come (Oh, would that evil day had never
dawned!); to Balder's temple walked a train of white-robed maidens, led
by a bard whose mournful chant moved every heart to woe. Amid them, on a
coal-black steed rode Ingeborg, like that pale spirit which surmounts
the thunder cloud. Before the doors of the temple I lifted my lily from
her saddle and led her to the altar. With unfaltering tongue she spoke
her vows; but unto Balder then she prayed in such heart-rending tones
that every eye save hers was filled with tears. Then for the first time
Helge marked the ring she wore. With a furious glance he tore it from
her and placed thy gift upon the arm of Balder. But thereat I could no
longer suppress my rage, and, snatching my sword from out its sheath,
approached the King as he stood before the image of the god. Of as
little worth was he to me at that moment as the lowest of his people,
and verily a crime would have been committed in that sacred place had
not a whisper reached my ears from Ingeborg.
"'Nay, stay thy hand. Stain not thy spotless blade! My brother might
indeed have spared me this; but much a heart can suffer ere it break,
and the All-Father shall one day judge between us!'"
"Ay, Ingeborg," cried Frithiof, "thou speakest truly--the All-Father
will one day judge between us! But he also metes out justice here below
by mortal hand, and 'tis in my heart that I am hither led to be the
judge of one. Is not to-day the Midsummer feast of Balder, that Helge
celebrates within his temple? Now, crowned priest, thou who hast sold
thy sister, thou who hast robbed me of my bride, behold to-day thy
judge!"