o." In
reply to this, Olaf, without word uttered, but merely with some signal
to the trusty armed men he had with him, rushed off to the temple close
at hand; burst into it, shutting the door behind him; smashed Thor and
Co. to destruction; then reappearing victorious, found much confusion
outside, and, in particular, what was a most important item, the rugged
Ironbeard done to death by Olaf's men in the interim. Which entirely
disheartened the Thing from fighting at that moment; having now no
leader who dared to head them in so dangerous an enterprise. So that
every one departed to digest his rage in silence as he could.
Matters having cooled for a week or two, there was another Thing held;
in which King Olaf testified regret for the quarrel that had fallen out,
readiness to pay what _mulct_ was due by law for that unlucky homicide
of Ironbeard by his people; and, withal, to take the fair daughter of
Ironbeard to wife, if all would comply and be friends with him in other
matters; which was the course resolved on as most convenient: accept
baptism, we; marry Jaernskaegg's daughter, you. This bargain held on
both sides. The wedding, too, was celebrated, but that took rather a
strange turn. On the morning of the bride-night, Olaf, who had not been
sleeping, though his fair partner thought he had, opened his eyes, and
saw, with astonishment, the fair partner aiming a long knife ready
to strike home upon him! Which at once ended their wedded life; poor
Demoiselle Ironbeard immediately bundling off with her attendants home
again; King Olaf into the apartment of his servants, mentioning there
what had happened, and forbidding any of them to follow her.
Olaf Tryggveson, though his kingdom was the smallest of the Norse Three,
had risen to a renown over all the Norse world, which neither he
of Denmark nor he of Sweden could pretend to rival. A magnificent,
far-shining man; more expert in all "bodily exercises" as the Norse call
them, than any man had ever been before him, or after was. Could keep
five daggers in the air, always catching the proper fifth by its handle,
and sending it aloft again; could shoot supremely, throw a javelin with
either hand; and, in fact, in battle usually throw two together. These,
with swimming, climbing, leaping, were the then admirable Fine Arts of
the North; in all which Tryggveson appears to have been the Raphael and
the Michael Angelo at once. Essentially definable, too, if we look
well into
|