CHAPTER X.

How Sir Otto rode down the steep rocky cliffs.

Sir Otto kept his eyes for a long time fixed on the ground, for he was lost in deep thought. The song which Astrid and Hugur had sung at her death (for this too the armourer had repeated) had agitated his inmost heart. As he began to raise himself from this melancholy trance, and was about to ask how Sir Arinbiorn came to be related to the mysterious knight with the vulture’s wings, he heard in the castle-court the stamping of many horses, and his own name called out loudly and impatiently. “They have not found you in your own chamber,” said the armourer; “and know not whither you have gone. There, take your sword, and let us go forth.” The weapon shone bright and spotless in the hands of Sir Otto; and his own eyes too gleamed with joy as he came forth with the black-visaged armourer into the court, which was already bright with the ruddy gleams of the morning. The sea-monarch came cheerfully to meet him, and wished him joy, that he had now a weapon from the hand of the skilful and far-famed Asmandur. Otto thankfully gave him back his battle-axe; whereupon Sir Arinbiorn commanded the black and silver mail to be brought, and busied himself in buckling on his young friend’s armour. “Mark you that troop of horsemen?” said he, pointing to the opposite side of the court, where a band of Norman soldiers were mounted on light-brown chargers, which stamped and foamed with impatience to go forth. “If my will is here to be followed, you shall lead these men into Sweden, to make war against the Pagans in Finland, while I shall again betake myself with my ships to the sea, and keep watch on our enemies’ coast, till I have found means of landing advantageously, and attacking them by surprise. Are you content with this proposal?” “Wherefore should I not be so?” answered Sir Otto; “Shall we not set out this very morning?” “Immediately,” answered the sea-monarch; “but there is yet one question to be answered. The soldiers whom you are to command would willingly see one proof more of that valour and activity for which you are so esteemed; for, to say the truth, they have doubts whether your war-steed may be worthy of his master. Therefore may it please you to try a race with that soldier there, whose light-brown horse seems to be about a match for yours in height, colour, and symmetry.” “Most willingly,” replied Sir Otto; “I could not wish for any better amusement!” So being now fully armed, he started away to the neighbouring stables, saddled and bridled his own favourite steed, who was now quite recovered from the effects of the sea-voyage, and made his appearance at the lofty portal leading into the court. The light-brown neighed and snorted, as if in joyful salutation of his friends and brethren, who were thus drawn up in battle-array; while at this approach of their leader all the band of horsemen joined in a loud cry of exultation. With a lowly and courteous bow, one of them came forward, and begged to know whether it was the knight’s pleasure that they should then commence their race. “Lead me to the proper ground,” answered Sir Otto; and the Norman, guiding his horse a few steps to one side, said,--“The course is now right before us, noble sir.” At that moment he had stationed himself opposite to a steep declivity of the mountain, broken indeed by insulated fragments of rock, which partly rose up in frightful rugged masses, and partly spread out in yet more dangerous smoothness, mingling with the green turf. “That is to be our race-course,” said the Norman, in a tranquil and friendly tone. “Among us northern soldiers, less is thought of the trial, whether one horse can ride more swiftly than another, than of the question, whether he can find his way prudently and safely on such unequal rocky ground?” “Very well, I am ready to join you,” answered Sir Otto; though it must be owned, when he looked down the precipice, his brain became confused, and his eyes clouded. Yet he took courage, more especially as he perceived that his light-brown steed seemed just as willing to encounter the descent as that of his adversary; and with like impatience foamed at the mouth, and gnawed the bridle which restrained him. “Let the trumpets blow the signal, for I am prepared,” said Sir Otto to the sea-monarch, who stood behind him; while the whole troop of cavalry had formed a half-circle, watching what would be the result of this adventure.

Accordingly, the war-horns were sounded, the combatants gave the reins to their steeds, and struck the spurs deep into their sides; at the same time leaning backwards, both for their own safety, and that they might render the descent more easy to their horses. Sir Otto found his eyes dazzled,--there was a rushing sound in his ears,--the wind whistled through the long waving plumes of his head-piece. It seemed to him as if, instead of running a race, he would soon fall headlong through the air; and more than once he was on the point of drawing the reins; but, reflecting that if he did so, his adversary probably might gain the victory, he used the spurs instead of the bridle, and the light-brown steed flew like a supernatural being over the rocky cliffs and slippery declivities. At length they both arrived safely, and stationed themselves quietly in the valley beneath, while Sir Otto’s rival was still heard clashing and rattling through the thickets above them. As soon as he had arrived also on the plain, his horse, notwithstanding all the endeavours that the rider made to prevent him, rushed against that of Sir Otto, and both steeds directly engaged in a furious combat. In a few minutes, however, that of the Norwegian knight was thrown down, the rider along with him, both severely wounded. The soldier recovered himself in a short time; but Sir Otto, perceiving that he was much hurt, said to him,--“If it so please you, mount my horse, and ride him up to the castle.” “Sir Knight,” said the Norman, shrinking back, “what would you have me do?--I am now well convinced that your charger is of the right blood, and is one of the noblest, as well as most formidable, steeds that ever sprung from the Norwegian race. But without doubt he would rend me in pieces if I ventured to come near him; for after a battle such an animal could not be tamed even by his own master.”--“That depends,” said the Knight of Trautwangen, “on the question, whether his master be right valiant and powerful. Trust to my promise, and mount him without apprehension!--Ruhig du Bursch!” added he, at the same time dismounting; and on hearing these words, his horse, as usual, stood motionless. Sir Otto assisted the wounded knight into the saddle, and then led the way on foot; while his light-brown favourite followed him like a sumpter-horse, slowly and carefully climbing over the rocks. On their return to the castle the whole troop of horsemen saluted them with the greatest respect, and the oldest among them affirmed that Sir Otto was indeed a leader to whom they had yet never beheld any equal.

Thereafter, without dismounting, they all drank his health in a cup of mead, which was replenished by the squires, and passed round from man to man. Then, in a short space, Sir Otto was seen at the head of his troop, departing rapidly through the plains beneath the castle, and the white sails of Sir Arinbiorn were unfurled, and gleaming on the blue waters.