“About forty years ago there lived in this land a knight who was named Hugur. He was the handsomest and stoutest of all men in the world; and, as he had come hither as a stranger, there were not wanting people who maintained that he was one of the ancient race of Odin, who, by some strange miracle or enchantment, had been sent hither from that magnificent land, wherein is situated the divine palace of Valhalla, which so many mortals have in vain tried to discover. As to what truth there might be in these rumours I know not. I have been baptized, and have become a good Christian; yet still, when I hear of Odin and Valhalla, my whole heart is warmed and heaves within me. These old stories, my brave young friend, of our gods and their wondrous miracles, cannot have been all void of foundation! Well, it came to pass, that Hugur proved himself to be the most victorious champion in all Norway, one only excepted. Much, however, as our people admired and loved Hugur, they detested his rival; for the latter never appeared any where without proving a forerunner of misfortune. Although he rendered them all the assistance in his power, and especially never failed to inflict vengeance on any one against whom he had harboured resentment, yet such deeds could by no means compensate for that chilling terror and apprehension, which his coming never failed to excite in the hearts of mankind.” “Was this not the frightful man with vulture’s wings on his helmet?” said Sir Otto. “Lo there! you know your way among us already,” said Asmandur. “Well, Arinbiorn has no doubt given you information, for he is himself a descendant of this mysterious hero.” Otto meanwhile fixed his eyes wildly on a dark corner of the vault, as if he thought that the spectral man with the vulture’s wings would come forth against him. “Now,” continued Asmandur, “there was at that time a certain Jarl in Norway, who had almost the power and the riches of a great king, and this Jarl had two beautiful daughters, very like to one another, of whom the oldest was named Astrid, and the youngest Hildiridur. Astrid was like most other young maidens, cheerful, well-behaved, good-hearted, and rejoiced in the society of her playmates. Hildiridur, on the other hand, was equally good and virtuous; but her stars had so destined, that she had an irresistible longing after the occult sciences of magic and necromancy; on which account, she was in early youth taken under the care of her aunt, who was a powerful sorceress, and who carried her away into the wild regions of Iceland, amid their flaming mountains and everlasting snows.