That day my heart was very heavy, and I sought Freydisa to take counselwith her.
"Trouble hovers over me like a croaking raven," I said. "I do not likethis war for a woman who is worth nothing, although she has hurt mesorely. I fear the future, that it may prove even worse than the pasthas been."
"Then come to learn it, Olaf, for what is known need no more be feared."
"I am not so sure of that," I said. "But how can the future be learned?"
"Through the voice of the god, Olaf. Am I not one of Odin's virgins,who know something of the mysteries? Yonder in his temple mayhap he willspeak through me, if you dare to listen."
"Aye, I dare. I should like to hear the god speak, true words or false."
"Then come and hear them, Olaf."
So we went up to the temple, and Freydisa, who had the right of entry,unlocked its door. We passed in and lit a lamp in front of the seatedwooden image of Odin, that for unnumbered generations had rested therebehind the altar. I stood by the altar and Freydisa crouched herselfbefore the image, her forehead laid upon its feet, and muttered runes.After a while she grew silent, and fear took hold of me. The place waslarge, and the feeble light of the lamp scarcely reached to the archedroof; all about me were great formless shadows. I felt that there weretwo worlds, one of the flesh and one of the spirit, and that I stoodbetween the two. Freydisa seemed to go to sleep; I could no longer hearher breathing. Then she sighed heavily and turned her head, and by thelight of the lamp I noted that her face was white and ghastly.
"What do you seek?" her lips asked, for I saw them moving. Yet the voicethat issued from them was not her own voice, but that of a deep-throatedman, who spoke with a strange accent.
Next came the answer in the voice of Freydisa.
"I, your virgin, seek to know the fate of him who stands by the altar,one whom I love."
For a while there was quiet; then the first voice spoke, still throughthe lips of Freydisa. Of this I was sure, for those of the statueremained immovable. It was what it had always been--a thing of wood.
"Olaf, the son of Thorvald," said the deep voice, "is an enemy of us thegods, as was his forefather whose grave he robbed. As his forefather'sfate was, so shall his be, for in both of them dwells the same spirit.He shall worship that which is upon the hilt of the sword he stole fromthe dead, and in this sign shall conquer, since it prevails against usand makes our curse of none effect. Great sorrow shall he taste, andgreat joy. He shall throw away a sceptre for a woman's kiss, and yetgain a greater sceptre. Olaf, whom we curse, shall be Olaf the Blessed.Yet in the end shall we prevail against his flesh and that of those whocling to him preaching that which is upon the sword but not with thesword, among whom thou shalt be numbered, woman--thou, and another, whohast done him wrong."
The voice died away, and was followed by a silence so deep that atlength I could bear it no more.
"Ask of the war," I said, "and of what shall happen."
"It is too late," answered the voice of Freydisa. "I sought to know ofyou, Olaf, and you alone, and now the spirit has left me."
Then came another long silence, after which Freydisa sighed thrice andawoke. We went out of the temple, I bearing the lamp and she resting onmy arm. Near the door I turned and looked back, and it seemed to me thatthe image of the god glared upon me wrathfully.
"What has chanced?" asked Freydisa when we stood beneath the light ofthe friendly stars. "I know nothing; my mind is a blackness."
I told her word for word. When I had finished she said,
"Give me the Wanderer's sword."
I gave it to her, and she held it against the sky by the naked blade.
"The hilt is a cross," she said; "but how can a man worship a cross andpreach it and conquer thereby? I cannot interpret this rede, yet I donot doubt but that it shall all come true, and that you, Olaf, and I aredoomed to be joined in the same fate, whatever it may be, and with ussome other who has wronged you, Steinar perchance, or Iduna herself.Well, of this at least I am glad, for if I have loved the father, Ithink that I love the son still more, though otherwise." And, leaningforward, she kissed me solemnly upon the brow.
The Wanderer's Necklace Page 14