One refuge he had--the swift-flying ship _Ellide_. From her deck he saw the fires still burning in Balder"s grove. Grief filled his heart.
"Gone is the temple of the white G.o.d. In ashes are the groves once never neglected! And I am to blame; anger and haste made me forget time and place, the reverence due in that holy temple!"
Over the blue sea where wild waves sing, _Ellide_ flew. Frithiof felt at home in the tempest on the rocking ship--this was his Northland, these on board were his only friends. The sea knows no king, and Helge"s wrath could not reach him on its waves.
But lo! from a hiding-place in the high rocks King Helge sends out ten dragon ships. The warriors with Frithiof rejoice and laugh at the king, for Bjorn had, unknown to all, leaped into the sea and bored holes in the boat-keels. Down sank the ships and many men were drowned, but Helge escaped.
In wrath the king drew his bow, but it broke. Then Frithiof aimed his lance. "A death bird have I here, false king! but my lance refuses to drink thy coward blood. It is too good for food so craven!"
So speaking Frithiof seized his oars--huge blades of fir, and swiftly moved away.
Where foam-crest swimmeth _Ellide_ skimmeth On joyous wings; But Frithiof sings:
"Thou front of creation, Exalted North!
I have no station On thy green earth.
Thy lineage sharing My pride doth swell, Thou home of daring!
Farewell, farewell!"
And that you also may sing Frithiof"s song, the last verse is given with the music.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Frithiof"s Song]
The Viking"s Code
Over the foaming sea Frithiof sailed, seeking strange lands and adventures. Like a falcon in search of its prey flew the good boat, _Ellide_, over the waves.
To the champions on board Frithiof gave this law of the viking:--
Make no tent on thy ship, never sleep in a house, for a foe within doors you may view; On his shield sleeps the viking; his sword in his hand, and his tent is the heavenly blue.
When the storm rageth fierce, hoist the sail to the top-- O how merry the storm-king appears; Let her drive! let her drive! better founder than strike, for who strikes is a slave to his fears.
If a merchant sail by, you must shelter his ship, but the weak will not tribute withhold; You are king of the waves, he a slave to his gains; and your steel is as good as his gold.
Let your goods be divided by lot or by dice, how it falls you may never complain; But the sea-king himself takes no part in the lots--he considers the honour his gain.
If a viking-ship come, there is grappling and strife, and the fight "neath the shields will rejoice; If you yield but a pace you are parted from us; "tis the law, you may act by your choice.
If you win, be content: he who, praying for peace, yields his sword, is no longer a foe!
Prayer"s a Valhalla-child, hear the suppliant voice; he"s a coward who answereth no.
Wounds are viking"s reward, and the pride of the man on whose breast or whose forehead they stand; Let them bleed on unbound till the close of the day, if you wish to be one of our band.
Frithiof"s Return
Such was the law of the vikings which Frithiof gave to his men. Day by day his name became more renowned through foreign lands. No viking was brave as Frithiof, and none had braver followers. When the conflict came, his spirit rose like an eagle refreshed for its flight. A smile was on his face and his voice rang clear above the noise of the battle.
After many conquests he sailed to Greece. In her beautiful seas he found many green islands. On the sh.o.r.es were green groves and temples gleaming with pillars. Here it seemed peace must have its home. The murmuring fountains and the sweet songs of the birds made music in the groves.
But in the midst of all this beauty Frithiof thought of his home in the north. There was the friend of his youth, the fair Ingeborg. There were the grave-mounds of his fathers. Around the groves and shrines of his country gathered the memories of his early years, and no matter how lovely any other land might be, his heart returned to his home land.
"Three years have pa.s.sed since I saw the Northland, the land of heroes.
How I long to see those loved sh.o.r.es once more! The tree that I planted on the grave-mound of my father--can it be that it lives now?
Why do I linger in distant waves, taking tribute and conquering in war?
My soul despises the glittering gold, and enough have I of renown.
"There"s a flag on the mast and it points to the north, in the north is the land I hold dear; I will follow the course of the heavenly winds, and back to the Northland I"ll steer."
To his foster-brother Frithiof said: "Bjorn, I am weary of riding the sea. My heart longs for the firm earth of the Northland, and her lofty mountains are calling to me. Tired am I of this life on the sea and too long have I wandered an exile from home."
"Frithiof, why do you complain?" asked Bjorn. "Freedom and joy flourish best on the sea. When I am old I too will turn to the green-growing land with the gra.s.s for my pillow. But now I"ll fight with a free hand and enjoy the freedom of the billows."
So the dragon ship sailed for far northern waters. The ice closed in around them and Frithiof declared he would not spend the winter on the desolate sh.o.r.e. He would go as a stranger to the palace of King Ring and see Ingeborg once more.
"Good!" exclaimed Bjorn. "Right glad will I be to fight the king and to let him feel a viking"s power. We will fire the palace of the greybeard and carry his queen away with us; or, if you wish, challenge him to a fight on the ice."
"No!" replied Frithiof; "no fight have I with King Ring. His is not the fault. But peace would I bear to them both and say farewell to Ingeborg. When spring returns you see Frithiof here."
"You may be prevented from returning, Frithiof; go not alone!" said Bjorn.
But Frithiof had no fear and laughed at the warnings of Bjorn. Alone he went with his good sword to the country of the old King Ring.
King Ring and the Stranger
In the kingdom of the north reigned King Ring. Old was he now and white-haired, but n.o.ble and brave. At the merry Yuletime he held a great feast in the royal hall. High on the throne of state he sat, and beside him was his fair young queen, the gentle Ingeborg.
Into the s.p.a.cious hall came a man unknown to any there. A bear-skin covered him from head to foot. He leaned heavily upon a staff, but even then he was taller than any warrior in the hall. He chose for rest a seat upon the bench beside the door. This is now the poor man"s place and has always been. Some of the young men laughed at the beggar dressed in the skin of the wild bear and pointed the finger at him.
[Ill.u.s.tration: INTO THE HALL CAME A MAN UNKNOWN TO ANY THERE]
The stranger"s eyes flashed and all felt his anger. Quickly he seized one of the young men by the belt and shook him so that all were suddenly silent in the hall.
"What causes such commotion?" cried the angry monarch. "Who dares disturb our peace? Old man, come here and answer. What is your name, your place, your errand?"
The old man replied: "Many questions you ask, O King, but every one will I answer. My name belongs to me alone and I"ll not give it. My birth-place was misfortune and all I possess is want. I have come hither from the wolf so fierce and gaunt. In youth I bestrode a dragon on the blue waters, but now I am old and feeble and must live upon the land. As to my errand, I came to see your wisdom, renowned far and near. When your men met me rudely I seized one of them by the girdle and hurled him to the ground. For that forgive me, though the man is safe and sound."
"Your words are wisely chosen," said King Ring. "The aged should be honoured; come, sit here by me. You are no beggar, I know. Throw off your disguise and appear in your true form. Disguise is a foe to pleasure, and pleasure should rule at Yule-tide."
Then the guest dropped the bear-skin. Instead of an old man bent with care, there stood a handsome youth with long golden locks. His mantle was of azure velvet and his girdle was of silver finely worked. Around his arm clung a heavy golden circlet and at his side gleamed the great battle-sword.