Read Online Hrolf Kraki's Saga by Poul Anderson - Free Book Online Page B

the mane and downy beard of him who entered and hailed her. They stared hard across the shadows between them.
    Helgi was taller than most of his tall following, wide-shouldered, deep-chested, narrow-hipped, craggy of nose, long of head and chin. Fire-blue eyes danced in a leather-brown face. He was roughly clad, and wetness still dripped off his kirtle and cloak; but golden rings wound their way up his thick forearms, and gold-inlaid was the haft of his sword.
    Olof was rather short, though her form showed goodly within her gown and hunting had given her uncommon grace of movement. Her head was round, wide in the cheekbones, nostrils, and mouth; her eyes were big, the same deep brown as her coiled hair; all in all, she was well-favored, and not too many years older than Helgi. The look she gave him smoldered. She bade him welcome in a flat voice.
    “I have heard so much of you,” laughed he, “I could not but pay this call.” Without waiting to be asked, he joined her in the high seat and told a servant to bring them drink.
    “Do everything well,” said Olof to her folk. “Let our guests lack naught.”
    To cook for such a big and unawaited company took time. Meanwhile beer and mead ran freely. The Danes jammed the lodge, clamored, grabbed at women, swaggered, boasted, and swilled. Helgi and Olof, side by side in the high seat, must nearly shout to hear each other. She let him do most of the talking—about himself—and he was nothing loth, the more so as he got drunker. She showed no outward unhappiness.
    When at last they were eating, he said to her, “You must have guessed I came here for more than a feast. It’s thus: I wish us to drink our bridal ale this evening.”
    She tautened. “You fare too swiftly, my lord.”
    “No, no.” Helgi wagged a beef bone. “We’ve enough folk gathered here for a wedding. Great will be my honor and gain if I win as high-souled and, um, useful a queen as you for my own. Later we can hallow it, and speak of dowries and morning gifts and whatnot else. But we’ll lie in one bed this night, you and me.”
    “If I must be wed,” she answered, knuckles white over the handle of her knife, “then I know of no man who stands above you. I trust you’ll not let me get shame out of this.”
    Helgi leered. “Indeed it’s fitting that you, uppish as you behave—that we should live together long’s I like.”
    “I could wish more of my friends were here,” said Olof. “But your will be done. I’m sure you’ll act in seemly wise toward me.”
    “Aye, aye, aye!” said Helgi slurrily. He hauled her to him, crushed her mouth against his and pawed across her in sight of everyone. Then he stood and bellowed forth the tidings.
    The Danes roared their glee. The Saxons knew not what to do, save for those wenches who giggled in dark corners beside sailors. Queen Olof arose, as if her gown were not soiled and hair tumbled, and called: “Let this bridal be drunk in the best we have. Break out the wine!”
    Southland traders bore some to these parts. It was little known elsewhere in the North. Helgi whooped at the taste. Olof smiled—in the flickering shadow-haunted light, it passed for a real smile—and plied him until far into the night.
    None marked how she only pretended to match his huge draughts, save her trustiest men to whom she whispered to do likewise.
    At last Helgi belched that they’d better put her to bed, else her wedding night would become a forenoon. Shouting, howling, bawling their bawdiest songs and jests, those Danes who could still walk took torches and escorted her across the courtyard to a bower where she slept. This is the Northland custom, that a bride be thus led in ahead of her groom. It is supposed to ward off evil beings, and the earthy words are to bring love and children. But for Olof waited no flowers and green boughs; nor had shebeen spoken for long beforehand, or had old friends around for this day out of her life, or been hallowed, or laid her