"Why," I exclaimed, "one might think you were going to be married, not
I."

"Aye," broke in Iduna hurriedly. "The truth is that Steinar is jealous
of me. How is it that you can make us all love you so much, Olaf?"

"Would that I were more worthy of your love," I answered, smiling, "as
in years to come I hope to show myself."

Athalbrand, who was watching, tugged at his forked beard and muttered
something that sounded like an oath. Then he rode off, kicking his horse
savagely and not noting my outstretched hand, or so it seemed. Of this,
however, I took little heed, for I was engaged in kissing Iduna in
farewell.

"Be not sad," she said, as she kissed me back on the lips. "Remember
that we part for the last time." Again she kissed me and went, laughing
happily.

The morning came. All was prepared. From far and near the guests were
gathered, waiting to do honour to the marriage feast. Even some of the
men of Agger were there, who had come to pay homage to their new lord.
The spring sun shone brightly, as it should upon a marriage morn, and
without the doors the trumpeters blew blasts with their curved horns. In
the temple the altar of Odin was decorated with flowers, and by it, also
decorated with flowers, the offering awaited sacrifice. My mother, in
her finest robe, the same, in truth, in which she herself had been wed,
stood by the door of the hall, which was cleared of kine and set with
tables, giving and returning greetings. Her arm was round me, who, as
bridegroom, was clothed in new garments of woven wool through which ran