A Yank at Valhalla

'You have lived here for centuries,' I mused. 'Dim rumors of your powers, your city Asgard, and your war with the Jotuns, must have reached the outer world. These rumors became myths that made you gods.'

'It must be so,' Odin agreed. 'Long ago, a party of the Aesir went beyond the ice on an important mission. Some of them did not return. Now I believe those lost ones reached the outer world. They probably died soon, from lack of the rejuvenating radiation. But their stories of us may have begun those myths.'

'So I am thought a mythical god in the outer world, eh?' Thor guffawed.

'It is true,' I said earnestly. 'And also lord Odin, and Frey and Freya. But there's one thing I can't understand. Those Jotuns who attacked me and Freya seemed intent on killing or capturing me. It was as though they expected me, and were waiting to seize me. Yet how could they possibly know I was coming?'

Odin frowned. 'I do not know, but I do not like it. It may be that the Jotuns—'

His voice trailed off, and he stared abstractedly beyond me. Somehow the tone of his voice had chilled me.

'But enough of that now,' he said abruptly. 'We shall talk later of these things and of the outer world from whence you come. Now Jarl Keith is to be an honored guest of the Aesir.'

'I can't claim that title,' I replied. 'I am no chieftain in my own land. I'm only a scientist.'

'Any man who dared Niffleheim's ice has won the title of jarl,' he declared. 'You shall rest in this castle. And tonight, Jarl Keith, you sit with the Aesir at our nightly feast, here in Valhalla.'

Chapter V Shadow of Loki

Slowly I awoke to the realization that a hand was gently shaking my shoulder. I saw at once that it was twilight. I had slept exhaustedly for several hours in this spacious, stone-walled room. I lay on a wooden bed whose posts were carved into wolf's heads. There were two heavy chairs with hide seats, and a big chest covered by a brilliant tapestry. Broad open windows looked out across the twilit city of Asgard.

The hand shaking my shoulder was that of a thrall. The servant, a grizzled, middle-aged man, wore the metal ring of servitude around his neck.

'The feast in Valhalla begins soon, lord,' he said as I sat up. 'I have brought you proper raiment.'

He pointed to a helmet and garments such as the Aesir wore, which he had placed on the chest.

'All right, if I'm supposed to dress in the fashion,' I said dubiously.

As he bowed and left, I went to the window. The rapidly darkening sky had partly cleared of storm clouds. In the southwest, a bloody, murky sunset glowed evilly crimson. The shaggy hills and ridges of Midgard stood out black against it.

Somewhere on the mainland, miles away at its southern end, was the dark city of Jotunheim. Somewhere in the caves of that rocky land dwelt the dwarfed Alfings. And far below all this land, if Odin had told the truth, lay the great subterranean world of Muspelheim. There blazed the terrific atomic radiation that made this a warm country where no man could sicken or grow old enough to die.

Beneath me, as dusk fell over Asgard, I could see a cheerful bustle of activity. Armed soldiers, who had been training with sword and buckler on a nearby field, were now trooping through the twilight toward Valhalla. Smoke was rising from great castles and humble stone houses. I glimpsed hunters riding over Bifrost Bridge, the carcasses of small deer slung over their saddles. As Asgard's gates were opened, I heard the throbbing call of the warder's great horn welcoming them.

Was it possible that I was actually here in the mythical city of the gods? It certainly was hard to believe. But even more incredible was Odin's saga. If he and the other Aesir chiefs possessed such profound scientific knowledge, why did they and all their people live so primitively?

'I suppose it's true,' I muttered. 'They don't age or grow sick, so they can live pleasantly enough without using science. Anyhow, they had a damned unpleasant experience with one reckless scientist. It's no wonder they don't encourage research.' Slowly I shook my head. 'No. I'll wake up and find it's just a dream. But I'd hate to have it disappear before I could see Freya again. Wonder if she'll be at the feast.'

That thought spurred me into taking off my heavy coat, breeches and boots. The helmet, woolen trunks, mail coat, buskins, belt and long sword and dagger looked uncomfortably like stage props. But women are funny about unfamiliar clothing. Just think how they laugh when the telenews shows them styles they wore a couple of decades ago! I didn't want Freya to have that reaction to me.

But when I took off my own shirt to don the Aesir garments, my hand touched something that hung from my neck. It was the rune key! I had completely forgotten it since entering the blind spot. Now, however, I suddenly thought of the rune rhyme.

Rune key am I,
Chaining dark evil,
Midgard snake, Fenris,
And Loki, arch-devil.

Why, I wondered, had I heard no mention of Loki? Everything else in the old Norse myths seemed to have some solid basis here, but I had heard nothing of the traitor Aesir. I decided to ask Odin about that at my first opportunity, as I tucked the gold cylinder inside my new shirt and laced up the mail brynja over it.

Hardly had I done so when the grizzled thrall again appeared at the door of my chamber.

'King Odin summons you to the feast, lord.'

I quickly put on the heavy, gleaming helmet. Feeling stiff as a ham actor in the strange costume, I followed the thrall down stone stairs to the great hall. The thrall shouted a loud announcement.

'The Jarl Keith, from the outlands beyond Niffleheim!'

The voices and laughter died down, and every eye turned toward me with eager curiosity. Valhalla blazed with light from torches set in the walls and the great fire blazing high in the central hearth. The scores of tables now bore metal and earthenware dishes loaded with food. Tall flagons and drinking horns were replenished by swift serving-maidens.

At these tables sat the chief captains and warriors of the Aesir. Hundreds of big, fair-haired men, helmets laid aside, their mail glistening in the torchlight, were feasting and drinking. At the table raised upon the dais by the southern wall sat the nobles of the Aesir and their ladies. In his high, carved chair in the middle sat Odin. Beside him was a woman of matronly beauty, his queen, the lady Frigga.

'Jarls and captains of the Aesir,' Odin boomed. 'Drink welcome to the Jarl Keith, our guest and friend from beyond Niffleheim.'

'Skoal to the Jarl Keith!' roared bearded Thor, winking jovially at me as he raised his huge drinking-horn.

'Skoal!' pealed Freya's silver voice. Every voice in Valhalla hall repeated the greeting. Hundreds of drinking- horns were raised. Odin waved me toward a seat at his table of nobles, between Freya and the delicately lovely wife of Thor. As I took the chair, serving-maids brought me a great slab of beef on a platter, and a horn of mead. I tasted the drink curiously. It was thin, sweet and potent.

Freya leaned toward me. She was dressed now like the other Aesir ladies, in a long white linen gown. Her bright hair was bound by a silver circlet, her dress belted by a heavy metal girdle studded with flashing emeralds.

'Shall I name the others for you, Jarl Keith? You will meet them all soon.'

At my right, beyond giant Thor and his wife, sat three other sons of Odin — Vidar, Vali and Hermod, tall and fair-haired, stalwart men all. There was Heimdall, the warder of Asgard gate, whom I had already seen. Niord was a squat, jovial bald man of middle age, with his wife Skadi. Forseti was a sober young man, apparently much