Amongst others, I remember to have heard my friends relate one at which my hair stood on end.Possibly I may gain some more complete information on the subject from you.It appears that several years ago, just about the time of the Christmas festival, Gotthard and Rudlieb were shipwrecked on the coast of Norway, during a violent winter tempest.They could never exactly ascertain the situation of the rocks on which their vessel stranded; but so much is certain, that very near the sea-shore stood a huge castle, to which the father and son betook themselves, seeking for that assistance and shelter which Christian people are ever willing to afford each other in case of need.They went alone, leaving their followers to watch the injured ship.The castle-gates were thrown open, and they thought all was well.But on a sudden the court-yard was filled with armed men, who with one accord aimed their sharp iron-pointed spears at the defenceless strangers, whose dignified remonstrances and mild entreaties were only heard in sullen silence or with scornful jeerings.After a while a knight came down the stairs, with fire-flashing eyes.They hardly knew whether to think they saw a spectre, or a wild heathen; he gave a signal, and the fatal spears closed around them.At that instant the soft tones of a woman's voice fell on their ear, calling on the Saviour's holy name for aid; at the sound, the spectres in the court-yard rushed madly one against the other, the gates burst open, and Gotthard and Rudlieb fled away, catching a glimpse as they went of an angelic woman who appeared at one of the windows of the castle.They made every exertion to get their ship again afloat, choosing to trust themselves to the sea rather than to that barbarous coast; and at last, after manifold dangers, they landed at Denmark.They say that some heathen must have owned the cruel castle; but I hold it to be some ruined fortress, deserted by men, in which hellish spectres were wont to hold their nightly meetings.What heathen could be found so demon-like as to offer death to shipwrecked strangers, instead of refreshment and shelter?"Biorn gazed fixedly on the ground, as though he were turned into stone but Sintram came towards the table, and said, "Father, let us seek out this godless abode, and lay it level with the dust.Icannot tell how, but somehow I feel quite sure that the accursed deed of which we have just heard is alone the cause of my frightful dreams."Enraged at his son, Biorn rose up, and would perhaps again have uttered some dreadful words; but Heaven decreed otherwise, for just at that moment the pealing notes a trumpet were heard, which drowned the angry tones his voice, the great doors opened slowly, and a herald entered the hall.He bowed reverently, and then said, "I am sent by Jarl Eric the Aged.He returned two days ago from his expedition to the Grecian seas.His wish had been to take vengeance on the island which is called Chios, where fifty years ago his father was slain by the soldiers of the Emperor.But your kinsman, the sea-king Arinbiorn, who was lying there at anchor, tried to pacify him.
To this Jarl Eric would not listen; so the sea-king said next that he would never suffer Chios to be laid waste, because it was an island where the lays of an old Greek bard, called Homer, were excellently sung, and where more-over a very choice wine was made.Words proving of no avail, a combat ensued; in which Arinbiorn had so much the advantage that Jarl Eric lost two of his ships, and only with difficulty escaped in one which had already sustained great damage.
Eric the Aged has now resolved to take revenge on some of the sea-king's race, since Arinbiorn himself is seldom on the spot.Will you, Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, at once pay as large a penalty in cattle, and money, and goods, as it may please the Jarl to demand?
Or will you prepare to meet him with an armed force at Niflung's Heath seven days hence?"Biorn bowed his head quietly, and replied in a mild tone, "Seven days hence at Niflung's Heath." He then offered to the herald a golden goblet full of rich wine, and added, "Drink that, and then carry off with thee the cup which thou hast emptied.""The Baron of Montfaucon likewise sends greeting to thy chieftain, Jarl Eric," interposed Folko; "and engages to be also at Niflung's Heath, as the hereditary friend of the sea-king, and also as the kinsman and guest of Biorn of the Fiery Eyes."The herald was seen to tremble at the name of Montfaucon; he bowed very low, cast an anxious, reverential look at the baron, and left the hall.
Gabrielle looked on her knight, smiling lovingly and securely, for she well knew his victorious prowess; and she only asked, "Where shall I remain, whilst you go forth to battle, Folko?""I had hoped," answered Biorn, "that you would be well contented to stay in this castle, lovely lady; I leave my son to guard you and attend on you."Gabrielle hesitated an instant; and Sintram, who had resumed his position near the fire, muttered to himself as he fixed his eyes on the bright flames which were flashing up, "Yes, yes, so it will probably happen.I can fancy that Duke Menelaus had just left Sparta on some warlike expedition, when the young knight Paris met the lovely Helen that evening in the garden."But Gabrielle, shuddering although she knew not why, said quickly, "Without you, Folko? And must I forego the joy of seeing you fight?
or the honour of tending you, should you chance to receive a wound?"Folko bowed, gracefully thanking his lady, and replied, "Come with your knight, since such is your pleasure, and be to him a bright guiding star.It is a good old northern custom that ladies should be present at knightly combats, and no true warrior of the north will fail to respect the place whence beams the light of their eyes.
Unless, indeed," continued he with an inquiring look at Biorn, "unless Jarl Eric is not worthy of his forefather?""A man of honour" said Biorn confidently.
"Then array yourself, my fairest love," said the delighted Folko;"array yourself and come forth with us to the battle-field to behold and judge our deeds.""Come forth with us to the battle," echoed Sintram in a sudden transport of joy.
And they all dispersed in calm cheerfulness; Sintram betaking himself again to the wood, while the others retired to rest.
