CHAPTER III.

HIS MEETING WITH HELGA.

It was early morning when Sigurd left the home of the second giantess, but night had nearly fallen before his ball stopped at the foot of the highest rock he had yet come to. On the summit stood the huge figure he had last seen on that fatal day at the palace; her head seemed to touch the clouds, and a terrible smile played on her lips as she looked down at the prince.

“Aha! So you have followed me, as I said. Up, comrade, up! You shall have your wish, and see how you like a contest with me in person.”

But Sigurd’s heart did not fail him. “Draw me up,” he said; “I have a message for you from my stepmother, Queen Injibjörg.”

Then the giantess drew him up, as her sisters had done, and he presented the last and largest of the golden rings. This pleased her immensely, and she proposed that they should at once wrestle for the victory, without waiting any longer. Sigurd exerted his utmost strength, feeling that on this combat all his future happiness depended; and just when he thought he could hold out no longer, the giantess reached him a horn of mead, which, as before, gave him supernatural strength, and he forced her to her knees.

In a moment he felt that his withered side was healed. The glow of perfect health came over him, and he could have sung aloud and danced for joy.

“Thou hast conquered, Sigurd, the king’s son,” the giantess said—“conquered in fair fight. I am no longer thine enemy; my power over thee is gone for ever. Now, go forth. Not far from here is a lake. There thou wilt see a maiden rocking herself in a boat. Give her this small ring, and it will be of use to thee. Thou art a brave youth, and I have done that for thee which I would not do for any one else. Thy strength is now fully restored to thee, and thou shalt succeed in all thine undertakings.”

With grateful thanks, Sigurd bade her farewell, and took his way to the lake she had told him of. All through the night he went on, and when the morning sun arose he saw the glitter of its rays on the water. As he reached the shore he beheld a lovely girl in a tiny green-and-gold boat, gently rocking herself to and fro on the waves, close to the edge of the water.

Sigurd approached, doffed his cap, and ventured to ask her name.

“My name is Helga,” she said, “and I live yonder with my father,”—pointing to a castle in the distance.

Then Sigurd showed her the ring he had received from the giantess.

“I have come all this way to give it to you,” he said; “fate has decreed that we are to be great friends. Will you accept it, and wear it always?”

“I have no friends,” Helga answered. “I will gladly have you for one, and wear your ring.”

So he placed it on her finger, and they rowed in the little boat, and wandered about the woods on the shores of the lake, until the sun began to sink behind the hills.

“Alas!” cried Helga, as she saw the slanting rays, “it is getting late; I must away home.”

“I will come too,” Sigurd answered.

“No, no,” she cried, in a terrified voice. “My father allows no stranger to enter our home. He would certainly kill you if he found you. No, you must not come.” And she set off running.

Sigurd ran too, and came up with her just as they reached the door. Helga put out her hand, the one which bore the ring he had given her, to stop him. In a moment, the young prince had disappeared, and where he had stood there was now only a huge bundle of wool. Helga then realized that the ring he had given her was a magic one, which she must use for his protection. She at once lifted up the bundle of wool in her arms, carried it into the castle hall, and threw it up on a high shelf.

At that instant her father came striding in—he was a giant of great size. Taking no notice of his daughter, he began searching in all the corners, and finding nothing, cried out in an angry voice: “Where has he gone? What was that I saw you carrying, child?”

“Only a bundle of wool, father,” Helga answered, as fearlessly as she could.

“Ah, it must have been that; but I thought I saw some one with you,” he muttered, and soon after retired to his room. The next morning, when Helga went out as usual, she carried the bundle of wool with her, and when she reached the boat, she touched it with her ring, and Sigurd regained his natural form. They rowed to a more distant part of the lake, and spent another happy day together.

Sigurd told Helga all about his stepmother, and his love for her.

“I owe everything to her kindness,” he said, “and I shall never be really happy till I have finished this journey and returned to her. Even when I am with you I dread lest evil may have overtaken her in my absence. But the giantess sent me here for some end, which I must wait to perform. My mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, except you.”

Helga, in her turn, told him of her lonely life with her fierce old father, and of how she had always longed to have some one of her own age as a companion.

“But what shall I do when I am left alone again?” she asked, with tears in her eyes.

“Be comforted,” Sigurd said, as he took her hand in his. “I must return to my stepmother, but I will come again, and take you away with me to my own home.”

As they returned, Helga said: “To-morrow we shall have more freedom, for my father goes to a great gathering of giants, and I will show you over the castle in his absence.” When they reached the house, Helga touched him with her ring, and once again Sigurd became a bundle of wool, and passed the night on a shelf in the hall.

Next morning, almost at break of day, Helga’s father departed, and Sigurd was enabled to resume his natural form at once. They walked and talked for some time, and then Sigurd reminded Helga of her promise to show him over the castle. She produced a huge bunch of keys, and together they passed through room after room, each one more beautiful than the last.

“And what is that key for?” asked the prince, pointing to a very strange one, which Helga had not yet used.

“That is my father’s secret room. The key is of a different pattern to all the others.”

“It is, indeed. But surely you will not refuse to let me see that room also?” And as he spoke, they passed to a door strongly studded with great iron nails. He entreated Helga not to refuse his request. “This, I am sure, is the door.”

“Yes, you are right. But if I open the door you must only just peep in, for I myself am terrified to go inside.”

“Nothing can hurt you while you are with me,” Sigurd said, placing his arm round her; and, with trembling fingers, Helga fitted the key into the massive lock, and opened the door a couple of inches. But Sigurd pushed it wide open and boldly stood in the doorway. There he saw a magnificent horse, richly caparisoned, eating golden hay, while, suspended to the rafters above its head, hung a sword sheathed in gold, with these words engraved on the hilt—

Whoever mounts this horse, and is armed with this sword, good luck will ride with him.

Sigurd entreated Helga to let him ride the horse once round the castle, and to carry the sword in his hand. At first Helga would not hear of it. Something terrible would happen, she felt sure. But the young prince pleaded so irresistibly, that at last he won her reluctant consent. The horse, she told him, was called Gullfaxi, “the golden mane;” the sword, Gunnfjöden, “fighting blade.”