The meeting of so many people at the games played havoc with the hearts of many a maiden and many a warrior who had come to Upsalir. Tales of love had been whispered in the ears of many trusting and confiding Viking daughters, and many had sworn to love each other until death. Vikings who lived far away, or in distant lands, had promised to come with their ships and visit the fair ones who had inspired them with admiration and love. Of course, they were coming to see their fathers and mothers, or their kinsmen, with whom they had become friends. These brave warriors and doughty champions deluded themselves, as men often do on such occasions, with the idea that the people would not understand that their object in coming was to see the daughters, instead of their fathers, mothers, or kinsmen. It is true that some men had become fast friends, and had sworn foster-brotherhood to each other during the games.

The time was near at hand when the lovers were to part; sleepless nights told of the anguish many felt at the thought of going away; and no wonder, for how many had felt love budding for the first time. What delightful days had just been passed! What new friends many had made! How many old friendships had been renewed! How many beloved faces had been seen again, after years of separation! How many slumbering loves had awakened!

But the games were also to leave many heart-burnings. There had been broken friendships between men or women who had been fast friends before; for, if there is one thing in the world that the friendship of two men cannot support, even if they are brothers, it is for both to love the same woman; and it is the same with two women, even if they are sisters, who love the same man. Envy and hatred are sure to follow, for love cannot be shared. Many had also taken an oath beforehand that they would marry such or such a girl, or challenge their successful rival to mortal combat; and many a duel was to take place on that account, for it had happened that the maidens they admired had not always reciprocated their feelings, and, indeed, loved some one else better.

One evening the foster-brothers did not go to the hall, and were together in their house, and for quite a while had not uttered a single word, when suddenly the silence was broken by Sigurd, who said to Ivar: “Foster-brother, thou seemest to be in a meditative mood. What dost thou think on?”

“I was thinking,” replied Ivar, “of love.” And he continued: “Love was born in the beginning of all things, and came with the world. Atoms kissed atoms, and were made one. The pollen of a flower wanders in the air, over sea and land, to kiss another flower, and say ‘I love thee.’ The sea kisses the shore; the moon and the stars kiss the night; the breezes, the water and the land; the sun, the earth; the dawn, the day; the twilight, the night; the heat, the cold; the dew, the flowers, the meadows, and the woods; the rain kisses all life. Men and women were born out of love, and both wander in the world until they meet their mates, for love is part of their own being. Life without love might as well never have existed.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Hjalmar, “to us men, woman is the incarnation of love, of all that is sweet and beautiful in life. To us she is the most sublime conception of the creative power of the gods.” He was thinking of Astrid when he uttered these sentiments. “We forget Odin for the woman we love; for her we would give our last drop of blood. We would die before her eyes that she might see our manliness and bravery, and learn that we are worthy of her love.”

Then, with great animation, he exclaimed: “O Love, embrace me with thy giant’s strength, and stay with me until my life ebbs away! Bring thy vivifying breath close to my lips, until thou becomest part of my own being, for I care not to live without thee. When Mother Earth, who has fed me and loved me so tenderly, folds me within her embrace, and hides from me forever the light of the sun and of this beautiful world which I have loved so much, O Love, envelop me with thy immortality!”

“Thou must surely be in love,” exclaimed the three foster-brothers, “to utter the sentiments thou hast just expressed.”

“The fact is,” said Sigurd, “that love is lurking in the heart of you all, my foster-brothers.”

“That is true,” they shouted with one voice, and began to exchange confidences.

Ivar spoke first, and declared that he loved Randalin, Yngvi’s second daughter, to distraction. “When she speaks,” he added, “her voice sounds to me as the softest tones of the harp; from her lips come the scented perfume of the roses of the Caspian, or of the flowers of our own land.”

Then, in a fit of enthusiasm, he said, with great earnestness: “Foster-brothers, I tell you that honey is sour compared with the sweetness of Randalin.” A merry laugh of approbation greeted Ivar’s last sentence.

Then Hjalmar said: “Foster-brothers, I love Astrid, the eldest daughter of the Hersir of Svithjod, and the goddess Sjofn has turned her mind and mine to mutual love, and I have taken an oath that no one shall marry her unless I fall by his hand.”

“We will stand by thee, Hjalmar!” shouted again all the foster-brothers.

Sigmund declared that he loved Solveig the Fair, so called on account of her beauty. Solveig was very retiring and bashful, but her dignified manner and charms had not escaped Sigmund. She was the daughter of BjÖrn Hersir, who ruled over a large herad, and resided at Gaular, close by the temple. The foster-brothers had met her there at an autumn sacrifice at which they were present, and at that time Sigmund fell in love with her; and now that they had met again at Upsalir, he was more desperately in love than ever.

“I knew,” said Ivar, addressing himself to Hjalmar, “that thou wast in love with Astrid, and that she loved thee, for in a hundred ways that passed unnoticed to others, I saw that she showed her preference for thee over all her other suitors. The ancient saying proves true,” he added: “‘The eyes cannot hide it if a woman loves a man, or if a man loves a woman.’”

Hjalmar replied: “Ivar, I can say the same thing of thee. We, thy three foster-brothers, saw how much thou and Randalin were in love with each other. As for thee, Sigmund,” said he, laughing, “this saying proves true in regard to thee: Many a man acts strangely when in love, but blame not man for that, blame love instead.”

“Dear Sigurd,” said all the foster-brothers at once, “thou hast said nothing to us yet about the maiden thou lovest; and thou art our elder, and we know that no one has a greater admiration and regard for women than thou hast, nor loves their society more than thou dost.”

“I have wandered, as you know, more than any of you,” returned Sigurd, “in our and many other lands, and have not yet seen the maiden of my destiny. I have never met her whom I wanted to marry. Once or twice in my life, if nothing had happened to prevent me from meeting again the maiden I had begun to love, I should have probably been married to-day; but the Nornir have not shaped my life thus far for me to be passionately in love. We must wait for time and for their decrees.”

After hearing his words, the foster-brothers said: “Sigurd, marry; for thou art the only one left of thy kin. And it is not wise for a man to die and leave no scion to inherit his virtues and his fame.”

After this talk, each foster-brother went his own way, and Ivar, without taking notice of it, walked unconsciously towards the bower of Randalin, and saw her coming towards him on her way to the house of her father. A thrill of joy ran through him as he perceived her. She turned pale and red alternately at seeing him; she was ready to sink to the ground. An indescribable feeling told her that Ivar was about to propose to her. The bond-woman that followed her fell back, and Ivar and she walked on together.

After a little pause, Ivar said to her: “Thou knowest, Randalin, that the goddess Var listens to the oaths of men, and to the private engagements which men and women make between themselves in regard to love, and punishes those who break them. I want her to hear me to-day, and to listen to what thou hast to say to me.” Then, looking at her intently, he continued: “Rememberest thou, fairest of maidens, the day when we met for the first time?”

“Yes,” replied the daughter of Yngvi. “I remember it as if it were to-day.”

“Canst thou recollect,” continued Ivar, “how we looked at each other as soon as we met, and how our eyes seemed to melt into each other’s? At that time an indescribable feeling seized me; thou didst seem to entrance me. I felt as I never felt before in my life. I loved thee, and I thought that thou also didst love me; and when thou didst continue thy way, my eyes were riveted upon thy fair form, and I remember that before thou didst disappear thou didst turn thy head once more towards me, as if some magic impulse compelled thee to do so, and told thee that I was still spell-bound at thy sight. We gave to each other a farewell look, as if to say, ‘Yes, we will meet again.’”

“I remember all that well,” said Randalin, for her honest heart could not deny it.

“Since then,” said Ivar, “I have thought of thee by day, and often dreamt of thee by night; and now I feel that before I return to Dampstadir I must tell thee of my love, and ask thee if thou wilt give me thy heart and marry me. If thou sayest no, life then will have no more charm for me; the clatter of weapons on the field of battle will no more sound pleasantly in my ears; ambition for renowned deeds will never stir me more; I feel that without thee I could not live.”

Randalin’s feelings, as she heard the burning words from Ivar’s lips, were such that she could not speak. Taking his hands, and looking with her beautiful blue eyes into his face, she said: “Ivar, thy wife I will be, and no other man shall ever possess me.”

In the evening the foster-brothers met, as was their custom, to talk matters over before they went to the banqueting hall to drink with the high-born men and champions of the land. All agreed that they should ask the parents of the young girls for their consent to the different marriages, for the laws regarding marriage were very strict, and there was nothing in the world in which Vikings were more particular, or more revengeful, if the honor of one of their kinswomen was attacked.