THE HEART OF A SHIELD-MAIDEN
Cattle die,
Kindred die,
We ourselves also die;
But the fair fame
Never dies
Of him who has earned it.
Ha'vama'l
Out of doors the stir of spring was in the air; snow melting on the
hills, grass sprouting on the plains. Editha's troubled face brightened
a little, as she turned up the lane against the sun and felt its warmth
upon her cheek.
"It gives one the feeling that it will melt one's sorrows as it melts
the snow," she told herself.
Then she passed through the gate into the budding courtyard, where her
eye fell upon Leif's sleeping-loft, with Kark running briskly up the
steps; and the brightness faded.
"But there is some ice the sun cannot melt," she sighed.
On the threshold of the great hall, Thorhild stood waiting for her.
Inside, all was confusion,--men placing tables and bringing in straw;
maids spreading the embroidered cloths and hanging the holiday
tapestries. The matron's head-dress was awry; her cheeks were like
poppies, and her keys were kept in a perpetual jingle by her bustling
motions.
She cried out, as soon as Editha came within hearing distance: "How long
you have been, you little good-for-nothing! I have looked out four times
for you. Was Astrid away from home? Did you return by Eric's Fiord, and
learn whose ship it is that is coming in?"
The little Saxon maid dropped her respectful curtsey. If at the same
time she dropped her eyes with a touch of embarrassment, the matron was
too preoccupied to observe it.
"I was hindered by necessity, lady. Astrid was not away from home, but
she was uncertain whether her son would wish to sell any malt, so I was
obliged to wait until he came in from the stables."
"Humph," sniffed Thorhild; "Egil Olafsson has become of great importance
since his father was mound-laid. This is the third time I have been kept
waiting for his leave." She turned on the girl sharply. "By no means do
I believe that to be the reason for your long absences. I believe you
plead that as an excuse."
Editha caught at the door-post, and her face went from red to white and
back to red again.
"Indeed, lady--" she began.
Thorhild shook a menacing finger at her. "One never needs to tell me!
She keeps you there to gossip about my household. Though she is my
friend, she is as great a gossip as ever wagged a tongue."
Even though the hand still threatened her ears, one would have said that
Editha looked relieved. She said, with well-feigned reluctance: "It is
true that we have sometimes spoken of Brattahlid while I waited. Astrid
looks favorably upon my needlework. Once or twice she has said that she
would like to buy me--"
This time Thorhild snorted. "She takes too much trouble! Helga will
never sell you to anyone. You need get no such ideas into your head. Why
do you talk such foolishness, and hinder me from my work? Can you not
tell me shortly whether or not you got the malt?"
"I did, lady. Two thralls will bring it as soon as it can be weighed."
"I shall need it, if guests arrive. And what of the ship? Did you learn
whose it is? It takes till pyre-and-fire to get anything out of you."
Editha's rosy face, usually as full of placid content as a kitten's,
suddenly puckered with anxiety. "Lady, as I passed, it was still a long
way down the fiord. I could only see that it was a large and fine
trading-vessel. But one of the seamen on the shore told me it was his
belief that it is the ship of Gilli of Trond-hjem."
The house-wife's keys clashed and clattered with her motion of surprise.
"Gilli of Trondhjem! Then he has come to take Helga!"
Editha nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. "I got afraid it might
be so."
"Afraid, you simpleton?" The matron laughed excitedly, as she brushed
all stray hairs out of her eyes and tightened her apron for action. "It
will become a great boon to her. Since the Englishman's death, she has
been no better than a crazy Brynhild. To take her out into the world and
entertain her with new sights,--it will be the saving of her! Run
quickly and tell her the tidings; and see to it that she puts on her
most costly clothes. Tell her that if she will also put on the ornaments
Leif has given her, I will give her leave to stop embroidering for the
day."
Editha observed to herself, as she tripped away, that undoubtedly her
mistress had already done that without waiting for permission. And it
proved very shortly that she was right.
In the great work-room of the women's-house, among deserted looms and
spindles and embroidery frames, Helga sat in dreamy idleness. The
whirlwind of excitement that had swept her companions away at the news
of approaching guests, had passed over her without so much as ruffling a
hair. Her golden head rested heavily against the wall behind her; her
hands lay listlessly upon her lap. Her face was as white as the unmelted
snow in the valleys, and the spring sun-shine had brought no sparkle to
relieve the shadow in her eyes.
Without looking around, she said dreamily: "It was one year ago to-day
that I came into the trader's booth in Norway and saw him sitting there
among the thralls."
Editha stole over to her and lifted one of her hands out of her lap and
kissed it. "Lady, do not be all the time thinking of him. You will break
your heart, and to no purpose. Besides, I have news of great importance
for you. I have seen the ship that is coming up the fiord, and men say
it is the vessel of your father, Gilli of Trondhjem."
With something of her old fire, Helga snatched her hand away and started
up. "Do you know this for certain? And do you believe that Thorhild will
give me up to him?"
"Worse than that, lady,--she is even anxious that he shall take you,
thinking it will be to your advantage."
For awhile Helga sat staring before her, with expressions of anger and
despair flickering over her face. Then, gradually, they died down like
flames into ashes. She sank back against the wall, and her eyes faded
dull and absent again.
"After all, what does it matter?" she said, listlessly. "I shall not
find it any worse there than here. Nothing matters now."
Editha made a little moan, like one in sudden pain; but it seemed as
though she did not dare to interrupt the other's revery. She stood,
softly wringing her hands. It was Helga who finally broke the silence.
Suddenly she turned, an angry gleam replacing the dulness in her eyes.
"Did the ship bring more tidings of the battle? Is it certain that King
Olaf Trygvasson is slain?"
Editha answered, in some surprise: "It had not come to land when I was
there, lady. I am unable to tell you anything new. But the men who came
last week, and first told us of the battle, say that Eric Jarl is now
the King over Norway, and there is no doubt that Olaf Trygvasson is
dead."
Helga laughed, a hateful laugh that made her pretty mouth as cruel as a
wolf's. "It gladdens me that he is dead. I am well content that Leif's
heart should be black with mourning. He killed the man I loved, and now
the King he loved is slain,--and he was not there to fight for him. It
is a just punishment upon him. I am glad that he should suffer a little
of all that he has made me suffer."
Editha moaned again, and flung out her hands with a gesture of entreaty.
"Dearest lady, if only you would not allow yourself to suffer so! If
only you would bear it calmly, as I have begged of you! Even though you
died, it would not help. It is wasting your grief--" She stopped, for
her mistress was looking at her fixedly.
"I do not understand you," Helga said, slowly. "Is it wasting grief to
mourn the death of Alwin of England, than whom God never made a nobler
or higher-minded man?" She rose out of her seat, and Editha shrank away
from her. "I do not understand you,--you who pretend to have loved him
since he was a child. Is it indeed your wish that I should act as though
I cared nothing for him? Did you really care nothing for him yourself?
Your face has grown no paler since his death-day; you are as fat as
ever; you have seldom shed a tear. Was all your loyalty to him a lie? By
the edge of my knife, if I thought so I would give you cause to weep! I
would drive the blood from your deceitful face forever!"
She caught the Saxon girl by the wrist and forced her upon her knees;
her beautiful eyes were as awful as the eyes of a Valkyria in battle.
The bondmaid screamed at the sight of them, and threw up an arm to
shield herself.
"No, no! Listen, and I will tell you the truth! Though they kill me, I
will tell yon. Put down your head,--I dare not say it aloud. Listen!"
Mechanically, Helga bent her head and received into her ear three
whispered words. She loosed her hold upon the other's wrists and stood
staring at her, at first in anger, and then with a sort of dawning pity.
"Poor creature! grief has gotten you out of your wits," she said. "And I
was harsh with you because I thought you did not care!" She put out a
hand to raise her, but Editha caught it in both of hers, fondling it and
clinging to it.
"Sweetest lady, I am not out of my wits. It is the truth, the blessed
truth. Mine own eyes have proved it. Four times has Thorhild sent me on
errands to Egil's house, and each time have I seen--"
"Yet said nothing to me! You have let me suffer!"
"No, no, spare me your reproaches! How was it possible for me to do
otherwise? If you had known, all would have suspected; 'A woman's eyes
cannot hide it when she loves.' Sigurd Haraldsson bound me firmly. I was
told only because it was necessary that I should carry their messages.
It has torn my heart to let you grieve. Only love for him could have
kept me to it. Believe it, and forgive me. Say that you forgive me!"
Helga flung her arms open wide. "Forgive? I forgive everyone in the
whole world--everything!" She threw herself, sobbing, upon Editha's
breast, and they clung together like sisters.
While they were still mingling their tears and rejoicings, the old
housekeeper looked in with a message from Thorhild.
"Sniffling, as I had expected! Have the wits left both of you? Even now
Gilli of Trondhjem is coming up the lane. It is the command of Thorhild
that you be dressed and ready to hand him his ale the moment he has
taken off his outer garments. If you have any sense left, make haste."
When the door had closed on the wrinkled old visage, Editha sent a
doubtful glance at her mistress. But the shield-maiden leaped up with a
laugh like a joyful chime of bells.
"Gladly will I put on the finest clothes I own, and feast the whole
night through! Nothing matters now. So long as he is alive, things must
come out right some way. Nothing matters now!"