  Frithiof was sitting with BjÖrn in his hall at FramnÄs before a splendid chessboard, the squares of which were alternate gold and silver, when Hilding entered. Greeting the old man kindly, Frithiof led him to the high-seat and bade him refresh himself with a horn of mead till he and his adroit adversary should have finished their match. But without waiting, Hilding began: “I come on behalf of the two princes, Helge and Halfdan, to pray you to make peace with them. King Ring has declared war and they fear for the kingdom.” “Take heed, BjÖrn,” cried Frithiof, “thy King is in danger! A pawn, indeed, may save him; pawns are lightly sacrificed!” Hilding, who well understood the double meaning of these words, continued: “Let not thine anger master thee, my son! Against King Ring the princes may be weak; against thy single arm ’twere otherwise.” Frithiof smiled. “So thou dost threaten my castle, BjÖrn!” he said. “But rest thee assured it will be well guarded.” “In Balder’s Grove,” began Hilding once more, “Ingeborg doth weep the whole day long. Will not even her prayers move thee?” “Ha! BjÖrn, wouldst thou attack the Queen, dearer to me than life from childhood’s hour? The most precious piece in all the game is she, and her I will save, cost what it may!” “Wilt thou give me no answer, nor yet end thy game?” asked Hilding, indignantly. Then Frithiof arose, and grasping his old master’s hand, said earnestly: “Nay, be not angry with me, father, but hearken to my firm resolve. Say to Bele’s sons that never will he whose honor they have tarnished be their vassal.” Hilding was silent for a space before he replied: “I must e’en perform my duty; yet neither can I blame thee for thy resolution. Odin will guide all for the best!” Then mounting his horse, he rode thoughtfully away. |
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