Jean was bound firmly
to a strong hurdle, made of birch stems and withies securely lashed
together. Judith, Garthmund, and the principal elders, placed themselves
under the venerable oak; the people stood at a respectful distance.
Twelve stalwart warriors bore the litter on which the prisoner was
stretched, and placed it on stone trestles planted for the purpose in
the intervening space. Then the priests arrived; twelve old men whose
white locks and beards, and snowy dresses, gave them a venerable
appearance which was soon belied by their performances.
Halting when they reached the victim, the priests faced the oak, and
chanted a solemn, wailing dirge; this, which might have been a farewell
to the spirit whose departure they were preparing to accelerate, was not
unimpressive. Then one stepped forward whose voice was yet clear and
loud; he passed a warm eulogy on the qualities of the captive, whom he
described in exaggerated phrases as a sage in council, and a hero in
battle, endowing him also with every domestic virtue which seemed in his
eyes worthy of enumeration. This discourse was followed by a warlike
song in honour of Thor and Odin, and it was during the course of this
hymn that it became clear from their rolling eyes and unsteady gait that
the old men were in a state of no ordinary excitement.
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