CHAPTER VIII.

How Sir Otto arrived in Norway.

It happened on a warm evening in the month of May, that Otto had fallen asleep on deck, and it might be already towards morning, when the cool sea-breeze came over his face and awoke him. He raised himself up, and the light of the full moon, which still shone in the south, revealed a range of high rocky cliffs between him and the blue northern skies. Great forests of pine and beech-trees waved on the lofty summits, and among them were seen at intervals the outlines of massive fortresses and watch-towers; while eagles, and other birds that nestled among the rocks, came forth, hovering and screaming around the vessel. Perceiving all this, the young knight was at once awed and delighted; taking up his harp, which lay beside him, he sung an address to the woods, the foaming waves, the precipitous rocks, and clear moonlight of Norway, being well aware that he had now arrived at the place of his destination. Accordingly, Sir Arinbiorn struck up a few stanzas, bidding him welcome to his native land, where the bold champions, the heaven-inspired bards, with their brimming goblets filled with mead, and their bright gleaming hearths, were waiting to receive him.

The sea-monarch now stood at the helm, with his own hand guiding his vessel towards the beloved shore. Already they had drawn near to a level ground at the foot of the rocks, and prepared to cast anchor, when Sir Arinbiorn, cased as he was in armour, sprang overboard and swam to land, while, as the rest came after him in boats, he blew loud and joyful notes on his hunting-horn, to welcome them, and to announce his arrival. Aloft, amid the darkness of the beech forests, many lights like stars now began to break forth; and these, Sir Otto soon perceived, came from the numerous windows of a large fortress. At the same time he heard a joyous answer returned to Sir Arinbiorn’s salutation, by a great blowing of horns from the high cliffs. There was the trampling too of horses, with the clank of their riders’ armour, as they made their way down the steep rocky path from the castle. Hereupon the sea-monarch, with a look of triumph and delight, said to Sir Otto, “You behold now the venerable mansion of my ancestors; and there you shall find, that we have not yet forgotten the martial and brave exercises of olden times.”

Meanwhile their two war-steeds had been disembarked, and the squires led them backwards and forwards on the shore, that they might recover from the fatigue of their confinement on shipboard. I was long ere Sir Otto’s wild light-brown horse could regain his usual spirits; he stumbled and tottered about; while the sea-monarch’s dun charger, well accustomed to such voyages, exhibited all his usual agility, and neighed aloud, as if exulting in his triumph over his former adversary.

The castellan, attended by many warriors, had come down to the shore, respectfully greeting their master and his guest, with the young Sir Kolbein; while, at the same time, they welcomed back, with less ceremony, their own equals and brethren in arms. For the latter, they had brought led horses along with them; and in a short time a large party were mounted, and galloped gayly up the steep ascent towards the castle. In half an hour, they had arrived at the long echoing archway, through which they trotted into a large court, now brightly illumined with torches. Here, on one side, was visible the wide entrance of a spacious vault, in which a great fire of turf was now blazing; and from hence a tall man, black as a Moor, made his appearance; and, notwithstanding his strange looks, stepped up with knightly dignity and assurance, offering his hand to Sir Arinbiorn. The latter took it without hesitation, saying, at the same time, “Good morrow, Asmandur, noblest of armourers! say how many weapons and cuirasses hast thou completed while we have been absent?” “Methinks I have prepared death for many of thy foes,” replied Asmandur, nodding his head with an air of confidence. “I have brought here a friend of mine who requires thine aid,” said the sea-monarch, pointing to Sir Otto. “The sword which now hangs at his side has been broken by a blow of my battle-axe, and methinks it could by means of thy art be joined together again, and made better than ever.” “Ay, ay, if it be worth that labour,” said the armourer; “for doubtless I could as easily make a new one. Let me look once at the sword.” Otto drew out one-half, and shaking his head mournfully, let the other fall from the scabbard. The armourer looked at both with attention, and then said, “If the wearer be like to his sword, then both together will scarcely find their equals in this world. Truly I might have known that he who is Sir Arinbiorn’s guest, and to whom, as I perceive, a battle-axe of my workmanship has been intrusted, was doubtless a brave and noble champion. Yet because it is not for every one that I am willing to exercise my art, nor do I work at all but for the best and most victorious knights; so, methinks, I would wish to see some trial of his skill in the first place.” “On that head, Asmandur,” answered Sir Arinbiorn, “I can pledge my word that he shall afford thee ample satisfaction. Yet surely thou wilt allow, that he should first have time to recover from the fatigues of his voyage on our wild north seas.” The armourer nodded his head in token of assent, and was about to retire into his vaulted hall; but Sir Otto called aloud, “Wherefore should I first have time to rest?--he were indeed a pitiful combatant, who, by means of a short sea-voyage, should lose all his strength! Come on then. The morning is already so light, that the torches are needless. Whosoever is inclined for warlike pastime, let him know that I am ready to give him satisfaction.”

“Yet, methinks, as a stranger, you cannot will be acquainted with our mode of combat,” said Arinbiorn.

“Wherefore should not I be so?” answered Sir Otto; “was it then in vain that my father travelled through these foreign lands? On the contrary, he well knew all their warlike arts and manners, and carefully instructed me therein. But what exercise is there among you with which you suppose that I am unacquainted? Do you mean, perchance, the throwing of these long javelins, of which there is a heap lying in that corner?”--So with the speed of light he darted from his horse, seized one of the spears, and hurled it from him with such force, that it went singing through the air across the castle-court, and struck deep into an old elm-tree at the opposite side. Not attending to the astonishment of the Normans, Sir Otto then said,--“You must not judge me too severely by this first trial. I am, it is true, somewhat out of practice, and I have only done this in order to convince you that the northern mode of conflict is to me not unknown.”--So then all the young champions who were there present looked on Sir Otto as a chosen hero, and vied with each other who should have the honour of meeting him in the lists. Mid-day at last drew on, and the Knight of Trautwangen was never wearied of the northern pastimes of throwing the javelin,--of wrestling, or of fighting with the blunted broad-sword. As little did Asmandur seem tired of admiring the prowess of the victorious young hero. At length the black-visaged armourer himself came forward to try his fortune.--“I know very well,” said he to Sir Otto, “that thou wilt be the conqueror; yet, methinks, it must be a pleasure to try the effect of such noble and chivalrous blows as those which thou hast dealt about this day; and though I would willingly prove to you in good time that, above all things in the world, I am a skilful swordsmith, yet I should meanwhile gladly shew, that I can also wield arms when it is needful to do so.”--It happened as Asmandur had said. From Sir Otto’s arm he was forced to receive many powerful blows, any one of which, had the sword been sharp, might have cost him his life. At last, however, notwithstanding the bravery of his defence, his weapon was struck out of his hand, and sent away nine yards distant across the court. Afterwards, in a wrestling-match, though he failed not to do his utmost, yet at last he was overthrown in the sand, and Sir Otto held him by the legs and arms motionless.--“Let me go,” said Asmandur, breathless; and as Sir Otto lifted him up, he added,--“Yet, on the evening of this very day I shall prepare thy battle-sword, thou hero! and at the mid-day banquet, over the wine-cups, we shall sit together; for, methinks, thy strength will as little yield to the fiery juice of the grape, or to the foaming mead which we northern heroes are wont to quaff, as it has done to the powerful champions with whom thou hast this day contended.”