Short Fiction by Selma Lagerlöf (android based ebook reader txt) 📕

eagerly at every approaching sail. Sometimes Hjalte stole away to the Marie Church. He never prayed for anything for himself. He only came to remind the Saints about this marriage, which must come to pass, which God Himself had willed.

Most of all Hjalte liked to speak with King Olaf Haraldsson alone. It was his greatest happiness to sit and tell him of every word that had fallen from the lips of the King’s daughter. He described her every feature.

“King Olaf,” he said to him, “pray to God that she may come to thee. Every day I see thee warring against ancient heathendom which hides like an owl in the darkness of the forest, and in the mountain-clefts. But the falcon, King Olaf, will never be able to overcome the owl. Only a dove can do that, only a dove.”

The Bard asked the King whether it was not his desire to vanquish all his enemies. Was it not his intention to be alone master in the land? But in that he would never succeed. He would never succeed until he had won the crown which Hjalte had chosen for him, a crown so resplendent with brightness and glory that everyone must bow before him who owned it.

And last of all he asked the King if he were desirous of gaining the mastery over himself. But he would never succeed in overcoming the wilfulness of his own heart if he did not win a shield which Hjalte had seen in the Ladies’ Bower at the King’s Castle at Upsala. It was a shield from which shone the purity of heaven. It was a shield which protected from all sin and the lusts of the flesh.

But harvest came and they were still waiting for the Princess. One after the other the great men who had come to Kungahälla for the marriage festivities were obliged to depart. The last to take his leave was old Hjalte the Bard. It was with a heavy heart he set sail, but he was obliged to return to his home in distant Iceland before Christmas came.

Old Hjalte had not gone further than the rocky islands outside the mouth of the northern river before he met a galley. He immediately ordered his men to stop rowing. At the first glance he recognised the dragon-headed ship belonging to Princess Ingegerd. Without hesitation Hjalte told his men to row him to the galley. He gave up his place at the rudder to another, and placed himself with joyous face at the prow of the boat.

“It will make me happy to behold the fair maiden once more,” the Bard said. “It gladdens my heart that her gentle face will be the last I shall see before sailing for Iceland.”

All the wrinkles had disappeared from Hjalte’s face when he went on board the dragon-ship. He greeted the brave lads who plied the oars as friendlily as if they were his comrades, and he handed a golden ring to the maiden, who, with much deference, conducted him to the women’s tent in the stern of the ship. Hjalte’s hand trembled when he lifted the hangings that covered the entrance to the tent. He thought this was the most beautiful moment of his life.

“Never have I fought for a greater cause,” he said. “Never have I longed so eagerly for anything as this marriage.”

But when Hjalte entered the tent, he drew back a step in great consternation. His face expressed the utmost confusion. He saw a tall, beautiful woman. She advanced to meet him with outstretched hand. But the woman was not Ingegerd.

Hjalte’s eyes looked searchingly round the narrow tent to find the Princess. He certainly saw that the woman who stood before him was a King’s daughter. Only the daughter of a King could look at him with such a proud glance, and greet him with such dignity. And she wore the band of royalty on her forehead, and was attired like a Queen. But why was she not Ingegerd? Hjalte angrily asked the strange woman:

“Who art thou?”

“Dost thou not know me, Hjalte? I am the King’s daughter, to whom thou hast spoken about Olaf Haraldsson.”

“I have spoken with a King’s daughter about Olaf Haraldsson, but her name was Ingegerd.”

“Ingegerd is also my name.”

“Thy name can be what thou likest, but thou art not the Princess. What is the meaning of all this? Will the Svea-King deceive King Olaf?”

“He will not by any means deceive him. He sends him his daughter as he has promised.”

Hjalte was not far from drawing his sword to slay the strange woman. He had his hand already on the hilt, but he bethought himself it was not befitting a warrior to take the life of a woman. But he would not waste more words over this impostor. He turned round to go.

The stranger with gentle voice called him back.

“Where art thou going, Hjalte? Dost thou intend to go to Kungahälla to report this to Olaf Haraldsson?”

“That is my intention,” answered Hjalte, without looking at her.

“Why, then, dost thou leave me, Hjalte? Why dost thou not remain with me? I, too, am going to Kungahälla.”

Hjalte now turned round and looked at her.

“Hast thou, then, no pity for an old man?” he said. “I tell thee that my whole mind is set upon this marriage. Let me hear the full measure of my misfortune. Is Princess Ingegerd not coming?”

Then the Princess gave over fooling Hjalte.

“Come into my tent and sit down,” she said, “and I will tell thee all that thou wouldest know. I see it is of no use to hide the truth from thee.”

Then she began to tell him everything:

“The summer was already drawing to a close. The blackcock’s lively young ones had already strong feathers in their cloven tails and firmness in their rounded wings; they had already begun to flutter about amongst the close branches of the pine-forest with quick, noisy strokes.

“It happened one morning that the Svea-King came riding across the plain; he was returning from