The Wanderer's Necklace Part 7

So that dream ended. When I, Olaf, awoke in the morning, it was to find that already everyone was astir, for I had overslept myself. In the hall were gathered Ragnar, Steinar, Iduna and Freydisa; the elders were talking together elsewhere on the subject of the forthcoming marriage.

I went to Iduna to embrace her, and she proffered me her cheek, speaking all the while over her shoulder to Ragnar.

"Where were you last night, brother, that you came in near the dawn, all covered with mud?" asked Ragnar, turning his back on Iduna, without making any answer to her words.

"Digging in the Wanderer's grave, brother, as Iduna challenged me to do."

Now all three of them turned on me eagerly, save Freydisa, who stood by the fire listening, and with one voice asked if I had found anything.

"Aye," I replied. "I found the Wanderer, a very n.o.ble-looking man," and I began to describe him.

"Peace to this dead Wanderer," broke in Iduna. "Did you find the necklace?"

"Yes, I found the necklace. Here it is!" And I laid the splendid thing upon the board.

Then suddenly I lost my speech, since now for the first time I saw that, twisted round the chain of it, were three broken wires of gold.

I remembered how in my dream I had seen the beautiful woman break such wires ere she gave half of the jewel to the man in whose breast I had seemed to dwell, and for a moment grew so frightened that I could say no more.

"Oh!" exclaimed Iduna, "it is beautiful, beautiful! Oh! Olaf, I thank you," and she flung her arms about me and kissed me, this time in earnest.

Then she seized the necklace and fastened it round her throat.

"Stay," I said, awaking. "I think you had best not touch those gems.

Iduna, I have dreamed that they will bring no luck to you or to any woman, save one."

Here the dark-faced Freydisa looked up at me, then dropped her eyes again, and stood listening.

"You have dreamed!" exclaimed Iduna. "I care little what you have dreamed. It is for the necklace I care, and not all the ill-luck in the world shall stay me from the keeping of it."

Here again Freydisa looked up, but Steinar looked down.

"Did you find aught else?" asked Ragnar, interrupting.

"Aye, brother, this!" and from under my cloak I produced the Wanderer's sword.

"A wondrous weapon," said Ragnar when he had examined it, "though somewhat heavy for its length, and of bronze, after the fas.h.i.+on of those that are buried in the grave mounds. It has seen much wear also, and, I should say, has loosed many a spirit. Look at the gold work of the handle. Truly a wondrous weapon, worth all the necklaces in the world.

But tell us your story."

So I told them, and when I came to the images that we had found standing on the coffin, Iduna, who was paying little heed, stopped from her fondling of the necklace and asked where they were.

"Freydisa has them," I answered. "Show them the Wanderer's G.o.ds, Freydisa."

"So Freydisa was with you, was she?" said Iduna.

Then she glanced at the G.o.ds, laughed a little at their fas.h.i.+on and raiment, and again fell to fingering the necklace, which was more to her than any G.o.ds.

Afterwards Freydisa asked me what was the dream of which I had spoken, and I told it to her, every word.

"It is a strange story," said Freydisa. "What do you make of it, Olaf?"

"Nothing save that it was a dream. And yet those three broken wires that are twisted round the chain, which I had never noted till I saw the necklace in Iduna's hand! They fit well with my dream."

"Aye, Olaf, and the dream fits well with other things. Have you ever heard, Olaf, that there are those who say that men live more than once upon this earth?"

"No," I answered, laughing. "Yet why should they not do so, as they live at all? If so, perhaps I am that Wanderer, in whose body I seemed to be, only then I am sure that the lady with the golden sh.e.l.ls was not Iduna."

And again I laughed.

"No, Olaf, she was not Iduna, though perchance there was an Iduna, all the same. Tell me, did you see aught of that priestess who was with the lady?"

"Only that she was tall and dark, one of middle age. But why waste words on this midnight madness? Yet that royal woman haunts me. I would that I could see her again, if only in a dream. Also, Freydisa, I would that Iduna had not taken the necklace. I fear lest it should bring misfortune. Where is she now? I will tell her again."

"Wandering with Steinar, I think, and wearing the necklace. Oh! Olaf, like you I fear it will bring woe. I cannot read your dream--as yet."

It was the day before that of my marriage. I see them moving about, the shapes of all those long-forgotten men and women, arrayed in their bravest garments and rude ornaments of gold and silver, for a great company had been bidden, many of whom came from far. I see my uncle, Leif, the dark-browed priest of Odin, pa.s.sing between the hall and the temple where on the morrow he must celebrate the marriage rites in such a fas.h.i.+on as would do honour to the G.o.d. I see Iduna, Athalbrand and Steinar talking together apart. I see myself watching all this life and stir like one who is mazed, and I know that since I had entered the Wanderer's grave all things had seemed unreal to me. Iduna, whom I loved, was about to become my wife, and yet between me and Iduna continually was thrust a vision of the woman of my dream. At times I thought that the blow from the bear's paw had hurt my brain; that I must be going mad. I prayed to the G.o.ds that this might not be so, and when my prayers availed me nothing I sought the counsel of Freydisa.

She listened to my story, then said briefly,

"Let be. Things will go as they are fated. You are no madder than the rest of men. I can say no more."

It was the custom of that time and land that, if possible, the wife to be should not pa.s.s the night before her marriage under the same roof as her future husband. Therefore Athalbrand, whose mood had been strange of late, went with Iduna to sleep in his beached s.h.i.+p. At my request Steinar went with them, in order that he might see that they were brought back in good time in the morning.

"You will not fail me in this, Steinar?" I said, clasping his hand.

He tried to answer something, but the words seemed to choke in his throat and he turned away, leaving them unspoken.

"Why," I exclaimed, "one might think you were going to be married, not I."

"Aye," broke in Iduna hurriedly. "The truth is that Steinar is jealous of me. How is it that you can make us all love you so much, Olaf?"

"Would that I were more worthy of your love," I answered, smiling, "as in years to come I hope to show myself."

Athalbrand, who was watching, tugged at his forked beard and muttered something that sounded like an oath. Then he rode off, kicking his horse savagely and not noting my outstretched hand, or so it seemed. Of this, however, I took little heed, for I was engaged in kissing Iduna in farewell.

"Be not sad," she said, as she kissed me back on the lips. "Remember that we part for the last time." Again she kissed me and went, laughing happily.

The morning came. All was prepared. From far and near the guests were gathered, waiting to do honour to the marriage feast. Even some of the men of Agger were there, who had come to pay homage to their new lord.

The spring sun shone brightly, as it should upon a marriage morn, and without the doors the trumpeters blew blasts with their curved horns. In the temple the altar of Odin was decorated with flowers, and by it, also decorated with flowers, the offering awaited sacrifice. My mother, in her finest robe, the same, in truth, in which she herself had been wed, stood by the door of the hall, which was cleared of kine and set with tables, giving and returning greetings. Her arm was round me, who, as bridegroom, was clothed in new garments of woven wool through which ran a purple streak, the best that could be made in all the land. Ragnar came up.

"They should be here," he said. "The hour is over past."

"Doubtless the fair bride has been long in decking herself," answered my father, looking at the sun. "She will come presently."

Still time went on, and the company began to murmur, while a strange, cold fear seemed to grip my heart. At length a man was seen riding towards the hall, and one cried,

"At last! Here comes the herald!"

Another answered: "For a messenger of love he rides slowly and sadly."

And a silence fell on all that heard him.