water, bidding his brother sail away into the evil spirit's power. At
that self-same moment the wind veered, and Agnar was indeed carried
away, while his brother hastened to his father's palace with a lying
tale as to what had happened to his brother. He was joyfully received
as one from the dead, and in due time he succeeded his father upon
the throne.

Years passed by, during which the attention of Odin had been claimed by
other high considerations, when one day, while the divine couple were
seated on the throne Hlidskialf, Odin suddenly remembered the winter's
sojourn on the desert island, and he bade his wife notice how powerful
his pupil had become, and taunted her because her favourite Agnar had
married a giantess and had remained poor and of no consequence. Frigga
quietly replied that it was better to be poor than hardhearted,
and accused Geirrod of lack of hospitality--one of the most heinous
crimes in the eyes of a Northman. She even went so far as to declare
that in spite of all his wealth he often ill-treated his guests.

When Odin heard this accusation he declared that he would prove the
falsity of the charge by assuming the guise of a Wanderer and testing
Geirrod's generosity. Wrapped in his cloud-hued raiment, with slouch
hat and pilgrim staff,--

"Wanderer calls me the world,
Far have I carried my feet,
On the back of the earth
I have boundlessly been,"--

Wagner (Forman's tr.).

Odin immediately set out by a roundabout way, while Frigga, to outwit
him, immediately despatched a swift messenger to warn Geirrod to
beware of a man in wide mantle and broad-brimmed hat, as he was a
wicked enchanter who would work him ill.

When, therefore, Odin presented himself before the king's palace
he was dragged into Geirrod's presence and questioned roughly. He
gave his name as Grimnir, but refused to tell whence he came or what
he wanted, so as this reticence confirmed the suspicion suggested
to the mind of Geirrod, he allowed his love of cruelty full play,
and commanded that the stranger should be bound between two fires,
in such wise that the flames played around him without quite touching
him, and he remained thus eight days and nights, in obstinate silence,
without food. Now Agnar had returned secretly to his brother's palace,
where he occupied a menial position, and one night when all was still,
in pity for the suffering of the unfortunate captive, he conveyed to
his lips a