him, as a wild bit of real heroism, in such rude guise and
environment; a high, true, and great human soul. A jovial burst of
laughter in him, withal; a bright, airy, wise way of speech; dressed
beautifully and with care; a man admired and loved exceedingly by those
he liked; dreaded as death by those he did not like. "Hardly any king,"
says Snorro, "was ever so well obeyed; by one class out of zeal and
love, by the rest out of dread." His glorious course, however, was not
to last long.

King Svein of the Double-Beard had not yet completed his conquest of
England,--by no means yet, some thirteen horrid years of that still
before him!--when, over in Denmark, he found that complaints against
him and intricacies had arisen, on the part principally of one Burislav,
King of the Wends (far up the Baltic), and in a less degree with the
King of Sweden and other minor individuals. Svein earnestly applied
himself to settle these, and have his hands free. Burislav, an aged
heathen gentleman, proved reasonable and conciliatory; so, too, the King
of Sweden, and Dowager Queen Sigrid, his managing mother. Bargain in
both these cases got sealed and crowned by marriage. Svein, who had
become a widower lately, now wedded Sigrid; and might think, possibly
enough, he had got a proud bargain, though a heathen one. Burislav also
insisted on marriage with Princess Thyri, the Double-Beard's sister.
Thyri, inexpressibly disinclined to wed an aged heathen of that stamp,
pleaded hard with her brother; but the Double-Bearded was inexorable;
Thyri's wailings and entreaties went for nothing. With some guardian
foster-brother, and a serving-maid or two, she had to go on this hated
journey. Old Burislav, at sight of her, blazed out into marriage-feast
of supreme magnificence, and was charmed to see her; but Thyri would not
join the marriage party; refused to eat with it or sit with it at all.
Day after day, for six days, flatly refused; and after nightfall of the
sixth, glided out with her foster-brother into the woods, into by-paths
and inconceivable wanderings; and, in effect, got home to Denmark.
Brother Svein was not for the moment there; probably enough gone to
England again. But Thyri knew too well he would not allow her to stay
here, or anywhere that he could help, except with the old heathen she
had just fled from.

Thyri, looking round the world, saw no likely road for her, but to Olaf
Tryggveson in Norway; to beg protection from the most he