went with her to the
altar, where she uttered her vows and prayed long to Balder. When
Helge saw your ring on her arm he tore it off with angry words. Then I
in anger drew my sword, but Ingeborg gently said: 'Let the All-father
judge between him and me.'"

"The All-father will judge," calmly replied Frithiof, when Hilding had
told his story; "I, too, will judge. Now is the time when the king who
sold his sister sits in the temple of Balder as priest. Him will I
seek."

Balder's Funeral Pile

Midnight's sun fell upon the mountain. The beams seemed to threaten
fire and war, so blood-red were they. The heavens glowed; it was night
contending with day.

On Balder's altar burned a fire--the emblem of the sun--and priests
stood around the wall of the temple, grasping burning brands. Near the
altar stood King Helge, wearing his crown. All at once he heard the
war-cry, and the clash of weapons resounded through the forest.

"Bjorn, stand fast by yonder door!"

Helge heard the cry and turned pale. Well he knew the ringing voice of
Frithiof. Fiercely as autumn winds fell the hero's bitter words:--

"Here's the ordered tribute; it came
Safe through the tempest's rattle;
Take it; then here by Balder's flame,
For life or death we'll battle.

"Shields behind us, our bosoms free,
Fair the fight be reckoned;
As the king the first blow belongs to thee,
Mind thou, mine's the second."

With these words he threw the purse filled with gold in Helge's face.
The heavy blow stunned the king, and he fainted near the altar.
Frithiof laughed and called in scorn: "Are you then overpowered by a
purse of gold? No one shall blame my sword for felling so cowardly a
foe, for he deserves not to fall by a brave man's sword."

Then Frithiof put up his sword and turned to the statue of Balder that
stood near the altar. Calm and kind seemed the god. On his arm was
the ring given by Frithiof to Ingeborg but taken from her by Helge.

"Holy Balder," spake Frithiof, "be not angry with thy servant. Well
dost thou know that the arm-ring which thou wearest was stolen, and
that Volund's work was never meant for thee." With these words he
strove to take the ring, but arm and ring seemed to have grown
together. Then he became angry and with a supreme effort he loosened
the ring; but the image fell into the flames of the altar.

Up leaped the fierce fire! Bjorn at the door was pale with dread.
Frithiof