"He's no warrior, but a skald," objected Athalbrand again; "a silly
half-man who makes songs and plays upon the harp."

"Songs are sometimes stronger than swords," replied my father, "and,
after all, it is wisdom that rules. One brain can govern many men; also,
harps make merry music at a feast. Moreover, Olaf is brave enough. How
can he be otherwise coming of the stock he does?"

"He is thin and weedy," objected Athalbrand, a saying that made my
mother angry.

"Nay, lord Athalbrand," she said; "he is tall and straight as a dart,
and will yet be the handsomest man in these parts."

"Every duck thinks it has hatched out a swan," grumbled Athalbrand,
while with my eyes I implored my mother to be silent.

Then he thought for awhile, pulling at his long forked beard, and said
at last:

"My heart tells me no good of such a marriage. Iduna, who is the only
one left to me, could marry a man of more wealth and power than this
rune-making stripling is ever likely to be. Yet just now I know none
such whom I would wish to hold my place when I am gone. Moreover, it is
spread far and wide throughout the land that my daughter is to be wed to
Thorvald's son, and it matters little to which son. At least, I will not
have it said that she has been given the go-by. Therefore, let this Olaf
take her, if she will have him. Only," he added with a growl, "let him
play no tricks like that red-headed cub, his brother Ragnar, if he would