CHAPTER VI
HOW OLAF FOUGHT WITH ODIN
It was the eve of the Spring Feast of Odin. It comes back to me that atthis feast it was the custom to sacrifice some beast to Odin and to layflowers and other offerings upon the altars of certain other gods thatthey might be pleased to grant a fruitful season. On this day, however,the sacrifice was to be of no beast, but of a man--Steinar the traitor.
That night I, Olaf, by the help of Freydisa, the priestess of the god,won entrance to the dungeon where Steinar lay awaiting his doom. Thiswas not easy to do. Indeed, I remember that it was only after I hadsworn a great oath to Leif and the other priests that I would attempt norescue of the victim, nor aid him to escape from his prison, that Iwas admitted there, while armed men stood without to see that I did notbreak my word. For my love of Steinar was known, and in this matter nonetrusted me.
That dungeon was a dreadful place. I see it now. In the floor of thetemple was a trap-door, which, when lifted, revealed a flight of steps.At the foot of these steps was another massive door of oak, boltedand barred. It was opened and closed behind me, who found myself in adarksome den built of rough stone, to which air came only through anopening in the roof, so small that not even a child could pass it. Inthe far corner of this hole, bound to the wall by an iron chain fastenedround his middle, Steinar lay upon a bed of rushes, while on a stoolbeside him stood food and water. When I entered, bearing a lamp, Steinarsat up blinking his eyes, for the light, feeble as it was, hurt them,and I saw that his face was white and drawn, and the hand he held toshade his eyes was wasted. I looked at him and my heart swelled withpity, so that I could not speak.
"Why have you come here, Olaf?" asked Steinar when he knew me. "Is it totake my life? If so, never were you more welcome."
"No, Steinar, it is to bid you farewell, since to-morrow at the feastyou die, and I am helpless to save you. In all things else men will obeyme, but not in this."
"And would you save me if you could?"
"Aye, Steinar. Why not? Surely you must suffer enough with so much bloodand evil on your hands."
"Yes, I suffer enough, Olaf. So much that I shall be glad to die. Butif you are not come to kill me, then it is that you may scourge me withyour tongue."
"Not so, Steinar. It is as I have said, only to bid you farewell and toask you a question, if it pleases you to answer me. Why did you do thisthing which has brought about such misery and loss, which has sent myfather, my brother, and a host of brave men to the grave, and with themmy mother, whose breasts nursed you?"
"Is she dead also, Olaf? Oh! my cup is full." He hid his eyes in histhin hands and sobbed, then went on: "Why did I do it? Olaf, I did notdo it, but some spirit that entered into me and made me mad--mad for thelips of Iduna the Fair. Olaf, I would speak no ill of her, since her sinis mine, but yet it is true that when I hung back she drew me on, norcould I find the strength to say her nay. Do you pray the gods, Olaf,that no woman may ever draw you on to such shame as mine. Hearken nowto the great reward that I have won. I was never wed to Iduna, Olaf.Athalbrand would not suffer it till he was sure of the matter of thelordship of Agger. Then, when he knew that this was gone from me, hewould suffer it still less, and Iduna herself seemed to grow cold.In truth, I believe he thought of killing me and sending my head as apresent to your father Thorvald. But this Iduna forbade, whether becauseshe loved me or for other reasons, I cannot say. Olaf, you know therest."
"Aye, Steinar, I know the rest. Iduna is lost to me, and for thatperhaps I should thank you, although such a thrust as this leaves theheart sore for life. My father, my mother, my brother--all are lost tome, and you, too, who were as my twin, are about to be lost. Night hasyou all, and with you a hundred other men, because of the madness thatwas bred in you by the eyes of Iduna the Fair, who also is lost toboth of us. Steinar, I do not blame you, for I know yours was a madnesswhich, for their own ends, the gods send upon men, naming it love. Iforgive you, Steinar, if I have aught to forgive, and I tell you, soweary am I of this world, which I feel holds little that is good, that,if I might, I'd yield up my life instead of yours, and go to seek theothers, though I doubt whether I should find them, since I think thatour roads are different. Hark! the priests call me. Steinar, there's noneed to bid you to be brave, for who of our Northern race is not? That'sour one heritage: the courage of a bull. Yet it seems to me that thereare other sorts of courage which we lack: to tread the dark ways ofdeath with eyes fixed on things gentler and better than we know. Prayto our gods, Steinar, since they are the best we have to pray to,though dark and bloody in their ways; pray that we may meet again, wherepriests and swords are not and women work no ruin, where we may love aswe once loved in childhood and there is no more sin. Fare you well, mybrother Steinar, yet not for ever, for sure I am that here we did notbegin and here we shall not end. Oh! Steinar, Steinar, who could havedreamed that this would be the last of all our happy fellowship?"
When I had spoken such words as these to him, I flung my arms about him,and we embraced each other. Then that picture fades.