“Would that I were more worthy of your love,” I answered, smiling, “as in years to come I hope to show myself.”

Athalbrand, who was watching, tugged at his forked beard and muttered something that sounded like an oath.  Then he rode off, kicking his horse savagely and not noting my outstretched hand, or so it seemed.  Of this, however, I took little heed, for I was engaged in kissing Iduna in farewell.

“Be not sad,” she said, as she kissed me back on the lips.  “Remember that we part for the last time.”  Again she kissed me and went, laughing happily.

The morning came.  All was prepared.  From far and near the guests were gathered, waiting to do honour to the marriage feast.  Even some of the men of Agger were there, who had come to pay homage to their new lord.  The spring sun shone brightly, as it should upon a marriage morn, and without the doors the trumpeters blew blasts with their curved horns.  In the temple the altar of Odin was decorated with flowers, and by it, also decorated with flowers, the offering awaited sacrifice.  My mother, in her finest robe, the same, in truth, in which she herself had been wed, stood by the door of the hall, which was cleared of kine and set with tables, giving and returning greetings.  Her arm was round me, who, as bridegroom, was clothed in new garments of woven wool through which ran a purple streak, the best that could be made in all the land.  Ragnar came up.

“They should be here,” he said.  “The hour is over past.”

“Doubtless the fair bride has been long in decking herself,” answered my father, looking at the sun.  “She will come presently.”

Still time went on, and the company began to murmur, while a strange, cold fear seemed to grip my heart.  At length a man was seen riding towards the hall, and one cried,

“At last!  Here comes the herald!”

Another answered:  “For a messenger of love he rides slowly and sadly.”  And a silence fell on all that heard him.

The man, a stranger to us, arrived and said: 

“I have a message for the lord Thorvald from the lord Athalbrand, which I was charged to deliver at this hour, neither before nor after.  It is that he sailed for Lesso at the rising of the moon last night, there purposing to celebrate the marriage of his daughter, the lady Iduna, with Steinar, lord of Agger, and is therefore grieved that he and the lady Iduna cannot be present at your feast this day.”

Now, when I heard these words I felt as though a spear had been thrust through me.  “Steinar!  Oh! surely not with my brother Steinar,” I gasped, and staggered against the door-post, where I stood like one who has been struck helpless.

Ragnar sprang at the messenger, and, dragging him from his horse, would have killed him had not some stayed his hand.  My father, Thorvald, remained silent, but his half-brother, the dark-browed priest of Odin, lifted his hands to heaven and called down the curse of Odin upon the troth-breakers.  The company drew swords and shouted for vengeance, demanding to be led against the false Athalbrand.  At length my father called for silence.