From a Swedish Homestead

III

A sunny day late in the harvest, not a cloud in the sky; a day when one thinks the fair sun will give to the earth all the light she possesses! The fair sun is like a mother whose son is about to set out for a far-off land, and who, in the hour of the leave-taking, cannot take her eyes from the beloved.

In the long valley where Kungahälla lies there is a row of small hills covered with beech-wood. And now at harvest-time the trees have garbed themselves in such splendid raiment that one's heart is gladdened. One would almost think that the trees were going a-wooing. It looks as if they had clothed themselves in gold and scarlet to win a rich bride by their splendour.

The large island of Hisingen, on the other side of the river, had also adorned itself. But Hisingen is covered with golden-white birch-trees. At Hisingen the trees are clad in light colours, as if they are little maidens in bridal attire.

But up the river, which comes rushing down towards the ocean as proudly and wildly as if the harvest rain had filled it with frothy wine, there passes the one ship after the other, rowing homewards. And when the ships approach Kungahälla they hoist new white sails, instead of the old ones of gray wadmal; and one cannot help thinking of old fairy-tales of kings' sons who go out seeking adventures clothed in rags, but who throw them off when they again enter the King's lofty hall.

But all the people of Kungahälla have assembled at the landing-stages. Old and young are busy unloading goods from the ships. They fill the storehouses with salt and train-oil, with costly weapons, and many-coloured rugs. They haul large and small vessels on to land, they question the returned seamen about their voyage. But suddenly all work ceases, and every eye is turned towards the river.

Right between the big merchant vessels a large galley is making its way, and people ask each other in astonishment who it can be that carries sails striped with purple and a golden device on the prow; they wonder what kind of ship it can be that comes flying over the waves like a bird. They praise the oarsmen, who handle the oars so evenly that they flash along the sides of the ship like an eagle's wings.

'It must be the Swedish Princess who is coming,' they say. 'It must be the beautiful Princess Ingegerd, for whom Olaf Haraldsson has been waiting the whole summer and harvest.'

And the women hasten down to the riverside to see the Princess when she rows past them on her way to the King's Landing-Stage. Men and boys run to the ships, or climb the roofs of the boathouses.

When the women see the Princess standing in gorgeous apparel, they begin to shout to her, and to greet her with words of welcome; and every man who sees her radiant face tears his cap from his head and swings it high in the air. But on the King's Landing-Stage stands King Olaf himself, and when he sees the Princess his face beams with gladness, and his eyes light up with tender love.

And as it is now so late in the year that all the flowers are faded, the young maidens pluck the golden-red autumnal leaves from the trees and strew them on the bridge and in the street; and they hasten to deck their houses with the bright berries of the mountain-ash and the dark-red leaves of the poplar.

The Princess, who stands high on the ship, sees the people waving and greeting her in welcome. She sees the golden-red leaves over which she shall walk, and foremost on the landing-stage she sees the King awaiting her with smiles. And the Princess forgets everything she would have said and confessed. She forgets that she is not Ingegerd, she forgets everything except the one thing, that she is to be the wife of Olaf Haraldsson.

One Sunday Olaf Haraldsson was seated at table, and his beautiful Queen sat by his side. He was talking eagerly with her, resting his elbow on the table, and turning towards her, so that he could see her face. But when Astrid spoke the King lowered his eyes in order not to think of anything but her lovely voice, and when she had been speaking for a long time he began to cut the table with his knife without thinking of what he was doing. All King Olaf's men knew that he would not have done this if he had remembered that it was Sunday; but they had far too great a respect for King Olaf to venture to remind him that he was committing a sin.

The longer Astrid talked, the more uneasy became his henchmen. The Queen saw that they exchanged troubled glances with each other, but she did not understand what was the matter.

All had finished eating, and the food had been removed, but King Olaf still sat and talked with Astrid and cut the top of the table. A whole little heap of chips lay in front of him. Then at last his friend Björn, the son of Ogur from Selö, spoke.

'What day is it to-morrow, Eilif?' he asked, turning to one of the torch-bearers.

'To-morrow is Monday,' answered Eilif in a loud and clear voice.

Then the King lifted his head and looked up at Eilif.

'Dost thou say that to-morrow is Monday?' he asked thoughtfully.

Without saying another word, the King gathered up all the chips he had cut off the table into his hand, went to the fireplace, seized a burning coal, and laid it on the chips, which soon caught fire. The King stood quite still and let them burn to ashes in his hand. Then all the henchmen rejoiced, but the young Queen grew pale as death.

'What sentence will he pronounce over me when he one day finds out my sin,' she thought, 'he who punishes himself so hardly for so slight an offence?'

Agge from Gardarike lay sick on board his galley in Kungahälla harbour. He was lying in the narrow hold awaiting death. He had been suffering for a long time from pains in his foot, and now there was an open sore, and in the course of the last few hours it had begun to turn black.

'Thou needest not die, Agge,' said Lodulf from Kunghälla, who had come on board to see his sick friend. 'Dost thou not know that King Olaf is here in the town, and that God, on account of his piety and holiness, has given him power to heal the sick? Send a message to him and ask him to come and lay his hand upon thee, and thou wilt recover.'

'No, I cannot ask help from him,' answered Agge. 'Olaf Haraldsson hates me because I have slain his foster-brother, Reor the White. If he knew that my ship lay in the harbour, he would send his men to kill me.'

But when Lodulf had left Agge and gone into the town, he met the young Queen, who had been in the forest gathering nuts.

'Queen,' Lodulf cried to her, 'say this to King Olaf: "Agge from Gardarike, who has slain thy foster-brother, lies at the point of death on his ship in the harbour."'

The young Queen hastened home and went immediately up to King Olaf, who stood in the courtyard smoothing the mane of his horse.

'Rejoice, King Olaf!' she said. 'Agge from Gardarike, who slew thy foster-brother, lies sick on his ship in the harbour and is near death.'

Olaf Haraldsson at once led his horse into the stable; then he went out without sword or helmet. He went quickly down one of the narrow lanes between the houses until he reached the harbour. There he found the ship which belonged to Agge. The King was at the side of the sick man before Agge's men thought of stopping him.

'Agge,' said King Olaf, 'many a time I have pursued thee on the sea, and thou hast always escaped me. Now thou hast been struck down with sickness here in my city. This is a sign to me that God hath given thy life into my hands.'

Agge made no answer. He was utterly feeble, and death was very near. Olaf Haraldsson laid his hands upon his breast and prayed to God.

'Give me the life of this mine enemy,' he said.

But the Queen, who had seen the King hasten down to the harbour without helmet and sword, went into the hall, fetched his weapons and called for some of his men. Then she hurried after him down to the ship. But when she stood outside the narrow hold, she heard King Olaf praying for the sick man.

Astrid looked in and saw the King and Agge without betraying her presence. She saw that whilst the King's hands rested upon the forehead and breast of the dying man, the deathly pallor vanished from his face; he began to breathe lightly and quietly; he ceased moaning, and at last he fell into a sound sleep.

Astrid went softly back to the King's Castle. She dragged the King's sword after her along the road. Her face was paler than the dying man's had been. Her breathing was heavy, like that of a dying person.

It was the morning of All Saints' Day, and King Olaf was ready to go to Mass. He came out of the King's Hall and went across the courtyard towards the gateway. Several of the King's henchmen stood in the courtyard to accompany him to Mass. When the King came towards them, they drew up in two rows, and the King passed between them.

Astrid stood in the narrow corridor outside the Women's Room and looked down at the King. He wore a broad golden band round his head, and was attired in a long mantle of red velvet. He went very quietly, and there was a holy peace over his face. Astrid was terrified to see how much he resembled the Saints and Kings that were carved in wood over the altar in the Marie Church.

At the gateway stood a man in a broad-brimmed hat, and wearing a big mantle. When the King approached him he threw off his mantle, lifted a drawn sword, which he had hidden under it, and rushed at the King. But when he was quite close to him, the mild and gentle glance of the King fell upon him, and he suddenly stopped. He let his sword fall to the ground, and fell on his knees.

King Olaf stood still, and looked at the man with the same clear glance; the man tried to turn his eyes away from him, but he could not. At last he burst into tears and sobs.

'Oh, King Olaf! King Olaf!' he moaned. 'Thine enemies sent me hither to slay thee; but when I saw thy saintly face my sword fell from my hand. Thine eyes, King Olaf, have felled me to the ground.'

Astrid sank upon her knees where she stood.

'Oh God, have mercy upon me, a sinner!' she said. 'Woe unto me, because by lying and deceit I have become the wife of this man.'

IV

On the evening of All Saints' Day the moon shone bright and clear. The King had gone the round of the castle, had looked into stables and barns to see that all was well; he had even been to the house where the serfs dwelt to ascertain if they were well looked after. When he went back to the King's Hall, he saw a woman with a black kerchief over her head stealing towards the gateway. He thought he knew her, and therefore followed her. She went out of the gateway, over the Market Place, and stole down the narrow lanes to the river.

Olaf Haraldsson went after her as quietly as he could. He saw her go on to one of the landing-stages, stand still, and look down into the water. She stretched out her arms towards heaven, and, with a deep sigh, she went so near the edge that the King saw she meant to spring into the river.

The King approached her with the noiseless steps which a life full of danger had taught him. Twice the woman lifted her foot to make the spring, but she hesitated. Before she could make a new attempt, King Olaf had his arm round her waist and drew her back.

'Thou unhappy one!' he said. 'Thou wouldest do that which God hath prohibited.'

When the woman heard his voice she held her hands before her face as if to hide it. But King Olaf knew who she was. The rustle of her dress, the shape of her head, the golden rings on her arms had already told him that it was the Queen. The first moment Astrid had struggled to free herself, but she soon grew quiet, and tried to make the King believe that she had not intended to kill herself.

'King Olaf, why dost thou secretly come behind a poor woman who hath gone down to the river to see how she is mirrored in the water? What must I think of thee?'

Astrid's voice sounded composed and playful. The King stood silent.

'Thou hast frightened me so that I nearly fell into the river,' Astrid said. 'Didst thou think, perhaps, that I would drown myself?'

The King answered:

'I know not what to believe; God will enlighten me.'

Astrid laughed and kissed him.

'What woman would take her life who is as happy as I am? Doth one take one's life in Paradise?'

'I do not understand it,' said King Olaf, in his gentle manner. 'God will enlighten me. He will tell me if it be through any fault of mine that thou wouldest commit so great a sin.'

Astrid went up to him and stroked his cheek. The reverence she felt for King Olaf had hitherto deterred her from showing him the full tenderness of her love. Now she threw her arms passionately around him and kissed him countless times. Then she began to speak to him in gentle, bird-like tones.

'Wouldest thou know how truly my heart clings to thee?' she said.

She made the King sit down on an overturned boat. She knelt down at his feet.

'King Olaf,' she said, 'I will no longer be Queen. She who loves as greatly as I love thee cannot be a Queen. I wish thou wouldest go far into the forest, and let me be thy bondwoman. Then I should have leave to serve thee every day. Then I would prepare thy food, make thy bed, and watch over thy house whilst thou slept. None other should have leave to serve thee, except I. When thou returnest from the chase in the evening, I would go to meet thee, and kneel before thee on the road and say: "King Olaf, my life is thine." And thou wouldest laugh, and lower thy spear against my breast, and say: "Yes, thy life is mine. Thou hast neither father nor mother; thou art mine, and thy life is mine."'

As Astrid said this, she drew, as if in play, King Olaf's sword out of its sheath. She laid the hilt in the King's hand, but the point she directed towards her own heart.

'Say these words to me, King Olaf,' she said, 'as if we were alone in the forest, and I were thy bondwoman. Say: "Thy life is mine."'

'Thy life is God's,' said the King.

Astrid laughed lightly.

'My life is thine,' she repeated, in the tenderest voice, and the same moment King Olaf felt that she pressed the point of the sword against her breast.

But the King held the sword with a firm hand, even when in play. He drew it to him before Astrid had time to do herself any harm. And he sprang up. For the first time in his life he trembled from fear. The Queen would die at his hand, and she had not been far from attaining her wish. At the same moment he had an inspiration, and he understood what was the cause of her despair.

'She has committed a sin,' he thought. 'She has a sin upon her conscience.'

He bent down over Astrid.

'Tell me in what manner thou hast sinned,' he said.

Astrid had thrown herself down on the rough planks of the bridge, crying in utter despair.

'No one free from guilt would weep like this,' thought the King. 'But how can the honourable daughter of the King have brought such a heavy burden upon her?' he asked himself. 'How can the noble Ingegerd have a crime upon her conscience?'

'Ingegerd, tell me how thou hast sinned,' he asked again.

But Astrid was sobbing so violently that she could not answer, but instead she drew off her golden arm and finger rings, and handed them to the King with averted face. The King thought how unlike this was to the gentle King's daughter of whom Hjalte had spoken.

'Is this Hjalte's Ingegerd that lies sobbing at my feet?' he thought.

He bent down and seized Astrid by the shoulder.

'Who are thou? who art thou?' he said, shaking her arm. 'I see that thou canst not be Ingegerd. Who art thou?'

Astrid was still sobbing so violently that she could not speak. But in order to give the King the answer he asked for, she let down her long hair, twisted a lock of it round her arms, and held them towards the King, and sat thus bowed and with drooping head. The King thought:

'She wishes me to understand that she belongs to those who wear chains. She confesses that she is a bondwoman.'

A thought again struck the King; he now understood everything.

'Has not the Svea-King a daughter who is the child of a bondwoman?' he asked suddenly.

He received no answer to this question either, but he heard Astrid shudder as if from cold. King Olaf asked still one more question.

'Thou whom I have made my wife,' he said, 'hast thou so low a mind that thou wouldest allow thyself to be used as a means of spoiling a man's honour? Is thy mind so mean that thou rejoicest when his enemies laugh at his discomfiture?'

Astrid could hear from the King's voice how bitterly he suffered under the insult that had been offered him. She forgot her own sufferings, and wept no more.

'Take my life,' she said.

A great temptation came upon King Olaf.

'Slay this wicked bondwoman,' the old Adam said within him. 'Show the Svea-King what it costs to make a fool of the King of Norway.'