XXVI
“MY SON! MY SON! MY SON!”
In a handsome stone dwelling in the province of Viken, the kingdom of Olaf’s father, lived his mother, Aastrid, and his step-father, Lodin. A young sister, Aastrid, was of the household. Lodin was wealthy and powerful, a great chief, and the head of a number of vassals who were devotedly attached to him. When Olaf landed in the Trondelag and was so enthusiastically received, Lodin sent messages of loyalty to his step-son. So all the earl-folk of Viken, with Lodin at their head, were prepared to swear fealty to King Olaf when he came.
It was a fair spring day when Olaf with his retinue rode up to his mother’s dwelling. The banners floated from the windows, the floors were covered with fresh, pungent fir straw. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, and swords, shields and spears were placed over the doorways. In the banquet-hall, the harpers and fiddlers were filling the room with music.
Aastrid stood at the door. All waited in eagerness to greet the king, and the mother’s heart was full to overflowing. At last the watchers caught sight of the pageant. In a throng of earl-folk, soldiers and
