had floated in from the more northern seas. A certain fisherman who
dwelt on this shore came to the hall to tell us that he had seen a great
white bear on one of these floes, which, he believed, had swum from it
to the land. He was a man with a club-foot, and I can recall a vision
of him limping across the snow towards the drawbridge of Aar, supporting
himself by a staff on the top of which was cut the figure of some
animal.

"Young lords," he cried out, "there is a white bear on the land, such a
bear as once I saw when I was a boy. Come out and kill the bear and win
honour, but first give me a drink for my news."

At that time I think my father, Thorvald, was away from home with most
of the men, I do not know why; but Ragnar, Steinar and I were lingering
about the stead with little or nothing to do, since the time of sowing
was not yet. At the news of the club-footed man, we ran for our spears,
and one of us went to tell the only thrall who could be spared to make
ready the horses and come with us. Thora, my mother, would have stopped
us--she said she had heard from her father that such bears were very
dangerous beasts--but Ragnar only thrust her aside, while I kissed her
and told her not to fret.

Outside the hall I met Freydisa, a dark, quiet woman of middle age,
one of the virgins of Odin, whom I loved and who loved me and, save one
other, me only among men, for she had been my nurse.

"Whither now, young Olaf?" she asked me. "Has Iduna come here that you
run so fast?"

"No," I answered, "but a white bear has."