King Alfreds Viking | Page 9

seek--Jarl Sigurd
of Orkney.
And when I saw, a great awe fell upon me, and a sadness, but no terror;
and in my heart I would that hereafter I might rest as slept the hero
where the hands that had loved him had placed him.
Into the silent place came once more with me the clank of mail and
weapons that he had loved, and from without the song of the keen
sword edge whispered to him; but these could not wake him. Peacefully
he seemed to sleep as I stood by his side, and I thought that I should
take back no word of his to the jarl, his brother, whom both he and I
loved.

They had brought the great carven chair on which he was wont to sit on
his ship's quarterdeck, and thereon had set the jarl, as though he yet
lived, and did but sleep as he sat from weariness after fight, with helm
and mail upon him. Shield and axe rested on either side of him, ready
to hand, against the chair; and behind him, along the wall, were his
spears, ashen shafted and rune graven.
His blue, fur-trimmed cloak was round him, and before him was a little
table, heavy and carved, whereon were vessels for food, empty now
save for dust that showed that they had been full. And across his knees
was his sword, golden hilted, with a great yellow cairngorm in the
pommel, and with gold-wrought patterns from end to end of the
scabbard--such a sword as I had never seen before. His right hand held
the hilt, and his left rested on the shield's rim beside him; and so Sigurd
slept with his head bowed on his breast, waiting for Ragnaroek and the
last great fight of all.
The light seemed to grow stronger as I looked, or my eyes grew used to
it, and then I saw that the narrow chamber was full of things, though I
minded them afterwards, for now I was as in a dream, noting only the
jarl himself. Costly stuffs were on the floor, and mail and helms and
more weapons. Gold work there was also, and in one corner lay the
dried-up body of a great wolf hound, coiled as in sleep where it had
been chained. Another had been tied by the passage doorway, where I
had stepped on it; and below a spar that stood across a corner lay a
tumbled heap of feathers that had been a falcon.
Many more things there were maybe, but this I saw at last--that the
jarl's right foot rested on the skull of a man whose teeth had been long
and tusk-like. It was the head of the Scot whose teeth had been his
death.
Now the sword drew my eyes, for Einar bade me ask for it, else I think
I had gone softly hence without a word, so peaceful seemed the dead.
And as I looked again, I saw that the hand holding the hilt was dry and
brown and shrunken, so that one might see all the bones through the
skin, and at first I was afraid to ask.

At last I said, and my mouth was dry:
"Jarl Einar, your brother, bids me ask for sword Helmbiter, great Sigurd.
Let me take it, that he may know how you rest in peace."
But Sigurd stirred not nor spoke; and slowly I put out my hand on the
sword to take it very gently, but his grasp was yet firm on it. Then, as I
bent to see if it had tightened when I would draw the sword away, I
could see beneath the helm the face of the dead, shrunken indeed and
brown, but as of one at rest and beyond anger.
Once more then I took the jarl's sword in my right hand, and raised his
hand with my left, putting my own weapon by against the wall. And
then the hilt slipped from the half-open fingers, and the sword was
mine, and my hand held the jarl's. And it seemed to me that he gave it
me, and that I must thank him for such a gift. The sword though it was
sheathed, was not girt to him, and its golden-studded belt was twisted
about it, and it was no imperfect giving.
So I spoke in a low voice:
"Jarl Sigurd, I thank you. If my might is aught, the sword will be used
as you would have used it. Surely I will say to Einar that you rest in
peace, and we will come here and close your mound again in all
honour."
I set back his hand then, and it seemed empty and helpless, not as a
warrior's should be. So I ungirt my own weapon--a good