The Northmen Talk: A Choice of Tales from Iceland

Table of contents :
Foreword vii
Introduction xv
Note on the Translation xxix
Icelandic Entertainers
Sturla and King Magnus 1
An Icelandic Story-Teller 6
Ottar’s Head-Ransom 8
Lays of Gods and Legendary Heroes
Thor’s Hammer 11
The Prophecy of the Wise-Woman 16
Helgi and Sigrun 22
Volund the Smith 29
Sigurd’s First Exploits 37
Sigurd and the Sons of Gjuki 45
The Death of Sigurd 47
Gudrun’s Lament 50
The Lay of Atli 55
Biography, Chronicle, and Semi-Historical Narrative
Bishop Jon Ogmundarson 65
Church and Chieftain 77
Bishop Pal Jonsson 84
Episodes in a Blood-Feud 87
The Battles of 1066 101
Realistic Tales
Hreidar the Halfwit 119
Hromund the Lame 132
Fantastic Tales
The Scoffing Verses 141
The Howls of the Damned 152
The Misers 156
The Price of an Ox 163
Helgi and the Women of the Otherworld 175
A Visit to the Otherworld 180
The Story of Orm Storolfsson 197
The Story of Thorstein Oxleg 212
The Blood-Brothers’ Pact 231
A Giant Outwitted 234
Odd Among the Giants 237
The Breaking of a Burial Mound 244
Ballads
Hildibrand 253
Tristran 257
Olaf and the Elf-Maid 261
Iceling 263
Ebbi’s Daughters 266
The Harp Song 272
Lord Ribbald 274
Logi of Vallarahlid 277
The She-Troll 284
The Goodman and the Goodwife 288

Citation preview

THE N ORTHM EN

TALK

The Northmen Talk A CHOICE OF TALES FROM ICELAND

Translated and with introduction by

JACQUELINE SIMPSON

Foreword by

ERIC LINKLATER

1965 L O N D O N : PH O E N IX HOUSE M A D I S O N : T H E U N I V E R S I T Y OF W I S C O N S I N P R ES S

© J. M. D ent & Sons Ltd, 1965 All rights reserved Made in G reat Britain at the Aldine Press • Letchworth • Herts for J. M. DENT & SONS LTD Aldine House • Bedford Street • London A Galley Press publication in association with Phoenix House First published 1965

Published in the United States of America by The University of Wisconsin Press Mailing address: P.O. Box 1379, M adison, Wisconsin 53701

Contents Foreword Introduction Note on the Translation

vii xv xxix

I celandic E ntertainers Sturla and King Magnus An Icelandic Story-Teller O ttar’s Head-Ransom

L ays

of

G ods

a nd

1 6 8

L egendary H eroes

Thor’s Hammer The Prophecy of the Wise-Woman Helgi and Sigrun Volund the Smith Sigurd’s First Exploits Sigurd and the Sons of Gjuki The Death of Sigurd G udrun’s Lament The Lay of Atli

B i o g ra p hy , C hroni cle , H istorical N arrative Bishop Jon Ogmundarson Church and Chieftain Bishop Pal Jonsson Episodes in a Blood-Feud The Battles of 1066

a nd

11 16 22 29 37 45 47 50 55

S emi 65 77 84 87 101

R ealistic T ales Hreidar the Halfwit Hromund the Lame

119 132 v

C O N TE N T S

F antastic T ales The Scoffing Verses The Howls of the Damned The Misers The Price of an Ox Helgi and the Women of the Otherworld A Visit to the Otherworld The Story of Orm Storolfsson The Story of Thorstein Oxleg The Blood-Brothers’ Pact A G iant Outwitted Odd Among the Giants The Breaking of a Burial M ound

141 152 156 163 175 180 197 212 231 234 237 244

B allads Hildibrand Tristran Olaf and the Elf-Maid Iceling Ebbi’s Daughters The H arp Song Lord Ribbald Logi of Vallarahlid The She-Troll The Goodman and the Goodwife

VI

253 257 261 263 266 272 274 277 284 288

Foreword I n 1871 William M om s made a voyage to Iceland that was, at least in part, a pilgrimage. W ith the enthusiasm that charac­ terized his passionately busy mind he had already fallen in love with the heroic melancholy of the sagas—with their tem per of sardonic indifference to the dark brevity of life—and in The Lovers o f Gudrun he had retold the Laxdale tragedy with feeling and assurance. His translations, in collaboration with Eirikr M agnusson, of the saga of G rettir the Strong, and the Volsunga saga, followed the tale of G udrun; and his visit to her native shore—the consummation of a rom antic attachm ent—survived the impact of reality. His adm iration for the mythology of the N orth, his affection for its family histories, were not alienated by the forbidding aspect of snowy-shouldered volcanoes or the primitive comforts of Reykjavik ninety years ago. An earlier traveller—he sailed there in 1856, in the eighty-ton schooner Foam—was Lord Dufferin, later Viceroy of India, in whose lively Letters from High Latitudes there is this sombre description: ‘The town consists of a collection of wooden sheds, one storey high—rising here and there into a gable end of greater pretensions—built along the lava beach, and flanked at either end by a suburb of turf huts. ‘On every side of it extends a desolate plain of lava that once must have boiled up red hot from some distant gateway of hell, and fallen hissing into the sea. No tree or bush relieves the dreariness of the landscape, and the mountains are too distant to serve as a background to the buildings.’ But Dufferin goes on to speak of the gay little pennons that waved a t street doors, of flowerpots and white curtains in the windows, of immediate hospitality, and the unexpected scholar­ ship of the people. ‘Many of the inhabitants speak English, and one or two French, but in default of either of these, your only chance is L atin.’ Hospitality could have been anticipated, for the

vii

F O R EW O R D

sagas are full of great tales of visiting and feasting; and while his hosts opened yet another bottle Dufferin was gratified by the num ber of pretty faces about him, and by ‘a wicked little golden-haired m aiden’ whose vitality may have been her inheri­ tance from a grandam in Laxdale, or some one of G udrun’s neighbours. But Latin—Latin under the clouds of the Arctic Circle—is an intruder on the scene, and witness to the rem arkable character of the Icelanders. They were—and indeed are—a highly literate people whose respect for letters was derived from a heroic concept of behaviour th at their early literature, of two sorts, preserved, though their behaviour changed. Their tempestuous and eruptive island was settled in the latter part of the ninth century and the early part of the tenth. The colonists were aristocratic dissidents from Norway, with a minority of Celtic, or mixed Norse and Celtic blood, from Ireland and the Hebrides. W ith their household goods and domestic chattels they im ported a respect for law—or, a t any rate, for legalistic argum ent—and a stock of poetry and legends. The poems when w ritten down—though many were imperfectly remembered—formed the collection known as the Elder Edda. Some dealt with gods and some with men, but neither jostled the other: gods and men kept their own places. Stories with an historic background fetched their inspiration from the Germanic heroic age, and might have an origin as old as A ttila the Scourge of G od. There were some four hundred im m igrant leaders, whose names are recorded, and for a hundred years—approxim ately from 930 to 1030—their feuds and adventures, their unforgiving women and men committed to a stem convention, created m aterial for the family sagas which were w ritten in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. These and the historical sagas, of the kings of Norway and the earls of Orkney—with some tracts and homilies—constitute the classical prose of Iceland. The successors to these centuries of greatness received little from their predecessors, other than a wealth of literature. All their inheritance was the Edda and the sagas. N othing else endured. Civil w ar destroyed the riches gathered by an inter­ vening generation th at had lived in peace, and the pastures which had grazed increasing flocks and larger herds were exhausted. The commonwealth became a dependency of the Norwegian viii

F O R EW O R D

crown, and when Denmark swallowed Norway the Icelanders were neglected by a monarchy that had no interest in them. It seems, too, that the climate deteriorated. In the fourteenth century volcanoes erupted to spread their devastation, and the Black D eath took toll o f those who had outrun the lava. In 1550 the last Catholic bishop and his two sons were be­ headed to herald the Reform ation, and church property was confiscated to prevent the corruption of riches. In the seventeenth century Barbary pirates appeared on the coast to introduce depredations of a new complexion, and in the eighteenth vol­ canoes were active again—more disastrously than ever before— while smallpox and famine ravaged a diminished people in their stricken fields. But books, and devotion to books, remained for their com fort, and a widespread habit of writing verses dem onstrated their continuing faith in the magic of words. Their inheritance survived disaster and was perpetuated. N either in mood nor m anner did the new writing seek to copy old masterpieces, but as they had been designed for the court of a Norwegian king or Orkney earl, so were the later verses cut and flavoured for a humbler audience, more democratic ears. A t no time in Iceland was there a separate or professional literary class. Even Snorri Sturluson, whose genius sets him above any other known writer, was prim arily the head of a powerful family, and got himself killed in a domestic struggle for power. In saga times an aptitude for verse and skill in arms so often went together that almost they seemed complementary talents: Egil Skallagrimsson, most fierce of warriors, was also the best poet of his age, and as late as 1066 H arald H ardrada, critic and poet, is said to have spent a September evening tailoring verses: the evening before he fell in battle a t Stamford Bridge, defeated by H arold Godwinsson who, less than three weeks later, was to die in a shield-ring near Hastings. In the later, darker centuries of Iceland’s history poetry continued to be a faculty associated with the faculties of common toil, a voice of the people speaking in their own accents. And as the Icelanders were a people whose hardihood never degenerated into a brutal acceptance of their poverty—a people whose long memory and living imagination kept their minds alert—it would seem that the style and content of their poetry deserved some attention. IX

FO R E W O R D

In England, however, it cannot be said to have had much attention, despite the work o f such scholars as W. P. K er and Y ork Powell; despite the enthusiasm of W illiam M orris, which survived, unim paired, a second visit to the island. In 1876 he published an immense, unflaggingly spirited narra­ tive poem called Sigurd the Volsung. This was a vast amplification of the legend preserved in fragments of the Edda, and it is shabby to dispraise its brave, cantering lines: But the fallow blade leapt naked, and on the battle came,. As the tide of the winter ocean sweeps up to the beaconing flame. But firm in the midst of onset Sigurd the Volsung stood, And stirred no more for the sword-strokes than the oldest oak of the wood Shall shake to the herd-boys’ whittles: white danced his war-flame’s gleam, And oft to men’s beholding his eyes of God would beam Clear from the sword-blades’ tangle, and often for a space Amazed the garth of murder stared deedless on his face. Shabby and ungrateful; but the fact remains—though by 1918 the poem had gone into ten impressions—that M orris’s un­ flagging high spirits let him sing too long, and even a sympathetic mind grows a little weary after 340 pages of his song. One recalls, moreover, that the Norse habit of expression, in both verse and prose, was hard and terse and compact. N ot expansive but taci­ tu rn; not evasive, but enigmatic. Though M orris tells his story with endless invention, with a brilliant profusion of detail, it does not convey the sensation of a legend that survived the death of Burgundian kings to be told, with a reticent acceptance of great men’s ineluctable doom, under the immensity of the Arctic night and a roof straining against the gale. It is all too easy, too genial in its acceptance of tragedy; it is Thames-side heroism, not the cold reality of Borgames or Bergthorsknoll in the dark flat land th at marches with the sea. But W illiam M orris was magnanimous of tem per; his imagi­ nation was inflamed by one of the great stories of the world, and his decision to recast it in a Victorian amplitude recognized the impossibility of winning popularity for it by adherence to its original mode. The Icelandic mode does little to cajole or invite a stranger’s sympathy; and our indifference to Icelandic stories, X

FOREW ORD

whether in prose or verse, is due in large part to the difficulty o f translating them into an idiom, acceptable to English readers, that also conveys an image of their original form. Miss Jacqueline Simpson now makes a bold attem pt to repair an ignorance, that must be accepted as regrettable, with a catholic anthology of Icelandic verse and story. It was her boldness that first attracted me, for scholars risk their reputation in a book as soldiers chance their lives in battle; and as I followed her foray into the perilous lands of Norse translation I was captivated by the richness of the booty she was taking. I know a little of her subject—a few scraps here and there: perhaps enough to ap­ preciate her difficulties—but of much that she has found I knew nothing at all, and I was astonished by the variety that her pages expose. W ith boldness again she has given us versions of hard, impacted, alliterative verse in the form of the Border ballads; and this has a double advantage. It offers us new m aterial in a shape with which we are familiar, and it lets her pretend a continuity from the empty drinking-halls of vanished earls to the entertain­ ment of an impoverished democracy which did indeed, in a later age, prefer rhyming lines and an easier narrative. Consider, for illustration, the first stanza of her translation of Gudrun's Lam ent’. Gudrun was near to death for grief, As she sat by Sigurd’s side; She did not weep or wring her hands, As other women did— and compare it with the more literal translation by Sir M aurice Bowra in his magnificently panoptic exploration, Heroic Poetry’. Then did Gudrun think to die When she by Sigurth sorrowing sat; Tears she had not nor wrung her hands, Nor ever wailed as other women. Sir M aurice is closer to the Icelandic, but Miss Simpson keeps the meaning and brings it into English diction. Look now a t a stanza in the Old Norse or Icelandic tongue from the Volsung dram a; a stanza that describes the killing of Fafnir, the dragon-guard of a hoard of gold, by the young hero Sigurd. It has a strange appearance, but it is not difficult to read XI

FOREWORD

it aloud with some approxim ation to its harsh sound and over­ tones of doom : Sveinn ok sveinn! hverjum ertu sveinn urn borinn, hverra ertu manna mágr, er j>ú á Fáfni rautt þinn frána mæki? Stendumk til hjarta hjerr. The literal translation is : ‘Boy, O boy! of whom, boy, wert thou bom , and w hat m an’s child a rt thou th at thou hast reddened thy gleaming brand on Fafnir? the sword has struck me to the heart.’ W illiam M orris used the stanza in his long narrative poem, and having set the scene in his own way: But there was the ancient Fafnir, and the Face of Terror lay On the huddled folds of the Serpent, that were black and ashen-grey In the desert lit by the sun; and those twain looked on each, And forth from the Face of Terror went a sound of dreadful speech— he translated the relevant lines: Child, child, who art thou that hast smitten? bright child, of whence is thy birth? Fierce child, and who was thy father?—Thou hast cleft the heart of the Foe! Miss Simpson goes a t her task m ore simply, and gives us: Youth, O youth! Of whom, O youth, were you bom? Of what man are you then the son? The bright blade you bear with my blood is red, To my heart your sword has come. Here is modesty combined with accuracy; and the com bination proves, I think, her honesty. Now when we are faced with trans­ lations from the virtually unknown—now, in this age of universal scepticism—we want, above all, to be assured of the honesty o f our translator; and so far as my knowledge lets me judge her, Miss Simpson is completely honest. Again and again she has refrained from ‘touching u p ’—as easily she could have done— some phrase or episode, and the consequence is th at we are presented with a collection of Icelandic writings, from an heroic past to a period in which no wealth remained but memory and im agination, th at truly reflects the tem per of a perdurable people in their harsh and distant isolation. And—on the whole—how genial they are! •• XU

FOREW ORD

The range is wide: from a comic tale of Thor’s Hammer to a fabulous anecdote of the price of an ox, from Volund the Smith (who is England’s W ayland) to forgotten bishops, innominate trolls, giants of mysterious origin, and a little version, with death between the lines, of the tale of Tristan and Isolde. All these, and many more, in verse or prose—ludicrous adventure, tight-lipped tragedy, off-beat realism—are told in a way that also reveals something of their listeners: the remarkable denizens of a para­ doxically frozen and fiery island; and Miss Simpson has certainly earned—whether she gets it or not—the Freedom of Reykjavik. I hope she will receive, as a more material reward, the gratitude of her own people and their eager demand for a book which is unusual in its appeal and unique in the information it purveys. E r ic L in k l a t e r .

Xlll

Introduction O f Yseland to m yte is lytill nede, Save o f Stokfische . . . So w r o t e an English versifier in about 1436, and it remains unfortunately true, in spite of the work of several generations o f scholars and translators, that the mention of Iceland is usually more likely to make an Englishman think of fish or harsh weather than of literature. Yet the literary culture of medieval Iceland was outstanding in its richness, variety, and quality; it comprised several m ajor types of poetry and a rem arkable range of prose works—biographies and histories, realistic fiction, folk-tales and myths rendered with sophisticated skill, humorous, fantastic, or dram atic tales. It is indeed a literature whose characteristic flavour is in many ways more readily acceptable to modem taste than that of much medieval writing; it is drily ironic, objective, unem otional; its narrative is plain and swift, its dialogue usually terse and always purposeful, and it consistently aims at achieving dram atic power by the utm ost economy of means. It is a pre­ dominantly narrative literature; lyricism is subordinate in the poetry and non-existent in the prose; the touches of rhetorical amplitude in certain types of prose are due to the influence of foreign models and were avoided in the fully developed native style. The aim of this anthology is to offer a selection from the many tales and narrative poems of medieval Iceland, choosing, on the whole, either complete works or self-contained passages which suffer little loss when removed from their contexts. The greatest of the sagas, therefore, are missing from these pages; the great Sagas of the Kings of Norway and the m ajor Family Sagas are masterpieces of large-scale construction, and it would be as grave a m utilation to represent them by extracts as it would be to offer isolated chapters of Emma or Middlemarch. Fortunately such outstanding achievements as the works of Snorri Sturluson or the sagas telling of N jal, G rettir, Egil, H rafnkel, the men of Laxdal, XV

IN T R O D U C T I O N

and many others, have been frequently translated and are readily available to English readers. But the Icelanders worked on the scale of the short story as well as on that of the novel, and their aptitude for prose narrative is as clear in the brief as in the more complex form. Iceland was discovered and settled by Norwegians, and by men from the Norse colonies in the British Isles, during the last decades of the ninth century. The earliest type of Icelandic litera­ ture which has survived is a group of poems now known as the Eddie Lays (from the name, Edda, of the m anuscript in which most of them are to be found.) None of these is earlier than the tenth century, but their roots run so deep into heathen Germanic myth and legend that it is certain that poems of this type, in­ cluding earlier versions o f some of these very ones, were known to the first generation of Icelanders and, before them, to their Norse forefathers o f the Viking age. Eddie poetry deals with myths o f Odin, Thor, Loki, Baldr, and the other gods; with magic and mythical lore; and with heroes whose stories were common property among the Germanic peoples. Thus the historical A ttila the H un has become the Atli of the Edda; the W ayland the Smith known in Anglo-Saxon poetry and art reappears there as Volund; the warriors of the Volsung family, mentioned in Beowulf, are the heroes of an im portant cycle of Eddie poems; the story of Sigurd the Volsung and of his dealings with Brynhild and the children of Gjuki is as much part of Icelandic as of German tradition. The m aterial of Eddie poetry is thus archaic, but the technique has developed in a different way from th at of Anglo-Saxon and continental German epic. The basis of the verse is still, as in the older forms, a pattern of alliterating sounds in unrhymed lines; but here the lines are grouped into regular stanzas, the diction is less rich, and the scale is not that of an epic. Eddie lays generally lim it themselves to a single episode in the hero’s life, somewhat in the manner of a ballad; ballad-like, also, is the sparse and swift treatm ent of narrative, the powerful dialogue, the strong sense of conflict and tragedy. They are almost all intensely dram atic; the lyrical element, if present at all, takes the form of curses or laments springing immediately from a specific situation. A peculiar feature in several Eddie lays is the use of prose introductions and connecting links. These passages are the work of the man who, in the thirteenth century, gathered them together xvi

IN TR O D U C TIO N

in the Edda m anuscript; he seems to have felt that they were too obscure to be left w ithout some explanatory commentary. In many poems the verses are indeed corrupt, and in others it seems that the compiler was trying to build up a poem out of fragments of various different half-forgotten lays on the same hero. The proportion of prose to verse varies widely; some lays are quite free o f it, but in other cases (as in the lay on Sigurd’s early exploits) the effect is alm ost equivalent to th at of a prose saga copiously interlarded with verses. The lays on hum an heroes are tragic in tone; their characters are torn between conflicting loyalties, duties, and emotions, and are driven by fate tow ards calamity. Thus Signy’s father is killed by her lover, Helgi; her brother D ag in turn treacherously slays Helgi, whereupon she invokes upon him, despite their kinship, one of the grimmest of the many curses in Icelandic poetry. Dag himself was divided between the duty which lay on him to avenge his father and the sworn oath which bound him to Helgi after the latter had spared his life; the theme of the broken oath and the eventual doom it entails is one which recurs frequently. Still more complex and tragic are the conflicts of duty and passion in the tangled relationships of Sigurd, G unnar, Brynhild, and G udrun. Several poets handled the story, or parts of it, and differed in their interpretations; but in many renderings the m ost striking figure is the savage and enigmatic Brynhild, rejoicing a t Sigurd’s death before she in turn kills herself and is burnt beside him. Indeed, o f all the slayers and plotters in the Edda, there are perhaps only two who are quite free from any sense of guilt or doom—Volund, driven by lust for vengeance, and A tli, by lust for gold. In alm ost every case these em otions are openly, though suc­ cinctly, expressed; we do not find here the preference for oblique implications and understatem ents which characterize the best sagas. It happens also, though m ore rarely, that an Eddie poet records his judgm ent on the actions of his characters, in formulas (‘So should a brave m an fight!’) which are reminiscent of those of Anglo-Saxon poetry. But it is only in com parison with the strictest school o f saga-writing th at Eddie lays seem strikingly explicit and em otional; in com parison with m ost medieval litera­ ture, they impress by reticence and concentrated brevity. The mythological Eddie lays are more diverse in tone. O f the two chosen here, ‘Thor’s H am m er’ is a masterpiece of comic x v ii

IN T R O D U C T I O N

story-telling, outstanding for its skilful balance between narrative and dialogue, between repetition and advance; and the ‘Prophecy of the W ise-W oman’ ( Veluspá, here represented by its opening and conclusion) is the most intense and profound of the Eddie lays, and the only one in which the tragic vision extends to embrace the whole destiny of the world. It is a poem that raises many problems, but it is also, and above all, a great work of art. The description of the doom of gods and men, which could easily have been reduced to confusion in a plethora of detail, is firmly organized into four sections: the warning signs, the gathering of the forces of destruction, the actual conflict, and the afterm ath. W ithin these outlines further patterns can be traced: a recurrent stanza and a recurrent line serve to punctuate and also to sum up the m ounting menace; generalizations and concrete details alter­ nate; there are three cocks to announce the conflict, three waves of attackers, three single com bats between gods and m onsters. But the pattern is subtle and unobtrusive; the dom inant impres­ sion is of energy, clarity, and of the strong onward sweep from menace to catastrophe, on to the idyll of the world renewed, and beyond that to the obscure threat of an eternally recurrent evil. The Edda has been much studied and frequently translated, and it might be thought that further renderings are unnecessary. However, the standard translations present certain difficulties to many readers, notably because they aim a t reproducing the metres of the original. These, as has been said, are based on alliteration and stress alone; where the alliteration is preserved but the rhythm disrupted (as it must inevitably be in passing from an inflected to an uninflected language), the result rarely strikes the ear as verse. T hat method also encourages a considerable degree of artificiality in syntax and w ord-order, and tends to divert the reader’s attention from contents to manner. N o solution is wholly satisfactory, but in the belief that the vigour and directness of this poetry can best be conveyed by a simple form, I have discarded all functional alliteration and adopted a rhymed stanza akin to that of the traditional Border ballads. The conversion of Iceland to C hristianity in a .d . 1000 was followed by an influx of missionary priests and bishops, from the British Isles and from Germany, whose presence was an im port­ ant stimulus to the establishing of a w ritten literature. H itherto xviii

IN T R O D U C T IO N

the Icelanders had practised poetry, had kept in circulation anec­ dotes about prom inent men of earlier generations, and had preserved a considerable body of folk-tale and legends; but though the existence of such anecdotes and tales can be deduced from the later literature, it seems that the Icelanders never used their native script (the Runic alphabet) to record such things. The oral tales themselves are of course lost, and speculations on their nature and style, though fascinating, are filled with uncertainty. The missionaries brought knowledge of the Roman script (in a form which shows distinctively English characteristics), and by the mid eleventh century it was in use in Iceland. They also brought knowledge of the common stock of European scriptural and religious writings, and it is not surprising to find that the first works to be written in Icelandic were translations of Latin sermons, doctrinal works, and saints’ lives. The process of trans­ lation and adaptation of foreign works (soon of a more secular nature) continued through the whole period of the M iddle Ages and affected the native literature in many ways. One early effect, among Icelanders of religious outlook, was an impulse to write accounts of any men of their own race whose holiness enabled them to take rank beside the saints of other lands. Such sanctity was soon attributed to King O laf Haraldsson of Norway (d. 1030), and later to two Icelandic bishops: Jon (d. 1121) and Thorlak (d. 1193). Accounts of their miracles were collected and written, and were followed, in the second part of the twelfth century, by full-scale biographies. There were also early biographies o f King Olaf Tryggvason, since it was his Christian zeal which had sent the converting missionaries to Iceland. The Lives o f the Bishops contain much interesting inform ation on the cultural life of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and three extracts from them are included here. The style of writings of ecclesiastical inspiration is markedly florid and shows the influence of medieval tastes in rhetoric; there is much use of pairs of synonyms, balanced phrases, alliterations and assonances, similes, and biblical citations. N or is this style confined to purely religious works; it tends to reappear wherever an explicitly Christian point of view is expressed, even in secular or frivolous tales. When it is limited to a single sentence, as in ‘Hrom und the Lam e’, it probably is merely due to a copyist; xix

INTRODUCTION

when it occurs on a large scale, as in ‘The Scoffing Verses’, it is a sure sign that the story has been handled by someone intent on Christian edification. The conflict between C hristianity and heathen magic is the theme o f this story, as o f many others; indeed, many a lively and fantastic tale may owe its preservation to the fact that its hero invokes, a t a m oment of peril, ‘the G od whom King O laf preaches’. The Church also helped to stim ulate the beginnings o f w hat was to become one o f the m ajor branches of Icelandic literature, the writing of history. A ri the Wise, first of the scholarly his­ torians, w rote his Book o f the Icelanders a t the request o f two bishops (c. 1130), and in it gave an am pler account o f the con­ version than of any other single event. This work, and others o f sim ilar type in which scrupulous antiquarians sifted the oral traditions about the first settlers of Iceland and others o f their em inent forbears, and recorded them for future generations, became the foundations for later writings whose inspiration had shifted from the ecclesiastical to the secular spirit. The value of the Icelanders as historians was amply recognized by contem poraries abroad. Saxo Gram m aticus (d. c. 1216) praised their eagerness to preserve and transm it ancient traditions; many of the kings and earls of Norway employed Icelanders as their official biographers, and gave them honourable positions a t their courts. The finest fruit of Icelandic historical writing is a series of sagas on the kings of Norway—in particular those th at are by Snorri Sturluson (d. 1241). But these, as has been said, are beyond the scope of this selection. There are, however, many m inor works in which an historical subject is treated in a semi-fictional way; one of these, on the battles of Stam ford Bridge and Hastings, is o f particular interest to English readers, and has been included. It will be seen a t once th at the process of fictionalization has been carried rather far: the conflict is sharpened by stressing (or inventing) ties of blood and friendship between the m ain person­ ages, a heightened sense of doom is built up by prophecies, omens, and dreams, and a rom antically legendary ending has been added to the historical basis. A nother class o f historical sagas deals with events in Iceland itself in the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The authors o f XX

I N T R O D U C T IO N

these often had first-hand knowledge of the events related, or else drew on the accounts of those who had; they achieved a rem ark­ able degree of accuracy and objectivity in dealing with m atters, such as feuds and political rivalries, which were often acutely controversial. This type of saga is represented here by extracts from one telling o f a blood-feud between two chieftains of northern Iceland; it was w ritten within twenty years of the events, and aims at tracing as fully as possible the causes, growth, and consequences of an outburst of brutal violence, while at the same time it presents a skilful defence of the behaviour of one of the protagonists. Here, in this historical saga, we can see already (c. 1215) many qualities which were to be characteristic of the great Family Sagas of the following decades: the ability to convey mounting tension, to present scenes in sharp dram atic light, an interest in character as revealed in word and act, a curiosity as to the causes that drive men into conflict, a strong sense of human dignity. Prose writing, having begun thus with biography, chronicle, and history, remained deeply affected by the forms and outlook o f historical writings. No Icelander would cast a story, however imaginary, into the form of a dream-poem, vision, or allegory; every tale is told as if it were fact, and is set in some specified time and place; many heroes are historical personages, and many more are provided with genealogies to link them with actual families, even if they themselves are inventions. Many Family Sagas, indeed, contain much that is reliable fact; precisely how much has been a m atter for hot debate, though now most scholars would agree to regard them as realistic historical novels, composed with conscious art, rather than ás pure factual records. The Family Sagas (also called Sagas of Icelanders) are those which were composed in the thirteenth century about people and events (real or invented) of the first few generations of Icelanders —up to about 1030. In essence they are realistic novels, usually written round a core of traditional inform ation orally trans­ m itted, which has then been transform ed by deliberate artistic composition. The importance o f oral narrative in the develop­ ment of sagas has sometimes been exaggerated, and it must be emphasized that the choice of title for the present selection merely refers to the general fondness of Icelanders and Norwegians for XXI

IN T R O D U C T I O N

story-telling as entertainm ent, w ithout implying that the written texts correspond at all closely to such oral stories, or that every saga necessarily sprang from oral traditions or passed through a phase of oral transmission. The Family Sagas are represented here by two short stories, ‘H reidar the H alfw it’ and ‘Hromund the Lam e’, in which some of their characteristic features can be seen in m iniature. Despite their apparent simplicity they demand close attention, for much depends on details—details which are not stressed by any formal device, but are vital to the whole. Thus the earthw orks round H rom und’s house, so tragically ineffective a t the climax, are unobtrusively mentioned in the first paragraph; and though the whole episode springs from Thorir’s stipulation that his unwelcome guests must find their own food, this is in no way more emphasized than the rest of their conversation. ‘H reidar the H alfw it’ is prim arily a character study, notable for the fine quality of its dialogue, for its hum our, and for the subtly graduated development in the character of H reidar. He is not simply the stock character of a folk-tale fool, nor yet is he simply any imbecile accurately portrayed; there is individuality as well as realism in his enthusiasms, in his alternations of self-con­ fidence and diffidence, of simplicity and shrewdness, in his longing to feel just one moment of manly rage, and his comment when he has a t last achieved this. And all is conveyed in words and actions only; it is one of the m ost rem arkable features in saga technique that the form al descriptions of characters are limited to a very few conventionalized and barely informative adjectives, whereas in the unfolding of the character through the plot there is a rich and subtle art. It is a dynamic, not a static portraiture; the best sagas stand apart from the vast m ajority of medieval works in rejecting the study of stock figures for that of complex indi­ viduals capable of growth and mystery. In this they anticipate one of the main preoccupations of the novel during the last and the present century. But realism was not by any means the only mode of Icelandic fiction. There exist many tales of pure fantasy, which are on the whole less well known to English readers, although in their own time they enjoyed great popularity. The realistic fiction was the product o f a high degree of artistry and sophistication, and also, xxii

IN T R O D U C T IO N

sometimes, of much antiquarian knowledge; but the fantasies sprang more directly from the folk-tales, jests, and legends which enlivened feasts and assemblies, long winter nights, travellers’ meetings, and even the court of Norway. It was with the story of ‘a huge she-trolT that Sturla, in 1263, drew the attention of the Norwegian queen. A description of a wedding feast in 1119 mentions, among other entertainm ents, a saga on the well-loved theme of a hero who fights a corpse to win its gold, and many must evidently have agreed with the Norwegian king who declared that ‘such lying stories were the most am using’. Every­ thing tends to show that such tales were early in oral circulation, even though those that survive are only versions from the late thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The division between realism and fantasy, however, is not a rigid division between separate literary genres. A high proportion of Family Sagas have elements of fantasy in certain episodes, and in some these elements have a direct relevance to the central plot. Furtherm ore, much that a modern reader would consider fan­ tastic—omens, second sight, prophetic dreams, Christian miracles —must have been accepted as true in medieval Iceland, a t least by most people. On the other hand, most fantastic tales are given a setting which links them, however sketchily, with historical reality; Norway in the days of O laf Tryggvason was much favoured as a background, for in that setting the wildest tale took on significance as part of the conflict between Christianity and heathendom. The ‘fantastic’ and the ‘realistic’ tales coexisted, and each type could at times influence the other; nevertheless, there is enough difference in tone and purpose to justify the distinction. Tales in which fantasy predominates are the less complex; their characters are usually drawn in black and white, their situa­ tions are simpler, and the interest is focused on the thrill of an adventurous plot rather than on any more thoughtful study of character or fate. The story alm ost always ends in trium ph for the hero. The style too is simpler, especially in dialogue, where Family Sagas can be laconic even to the point of obscurity; the fantasies are simple in language, and often include autobiographical or explanatory speeches that are, by Icelandic standards, profuse outpourings. ‘I see you must be the most talkative person here’, says King G auti to a miser’s daughter who has explained to him,

xxiii

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in a speech covering alm ost a whole page, the peculiarities of her family. A strong current of rom antic sensationalism runs through these tales; they tend to take up and exaggerate themes and situations from the old heroic lays, and it is to a large extent from them that the more melodramatic and colourful picture of the conventional Viking is derived—a Viking occupied in revering Odin, quelling berserks, trolls, and unquiet corpses, carving runes or blood* eagles, and dying with a laugh on his lips. The fondness for heightened, emphatic dram a and violent incident is effective in its own way, and forms an interesting contrast to the laconic under­ statements, the liking for things left unsaid, in the realistic and historic sagas. A typical example of this contrast is the treatm ent of Asbjom ’s death, complete with death verses, in ‘The Story of Orm Storolfsson’, as against the bald statem ent o f the death of Hrom und the Lame, or the black hum our o f Thord of Laufas on seeing his sons’ corpses (‘Episodes in a BloodFeud’). The tales of fantasy are of great interest for their rich store o f magical and folklore elements, Many of their themes can be paralleled elsewhere—the hero apparently stupid but in fact strong and resourceful; the quest for treasure in perilous places; the voyage to a mysterious Otherworld; the encounter with super­ natural women of great beauty and cruelty; the foiling of a stupid giant (a version of a widespread folk-tale, well known from the Odyssey). O ther themes are more specifically Scandinavian, in particular those dealing with active and malevolent corpses, and those describing encounters with trolls. Plot may be the m ajor interest, but it is not the only one; the characters may be vigorously and cleverly drawn, though not profoundly. Thus ‘The Price of an O x’ has all the qualities of a well-told folk-tale—repetitive situations built towards a climax, dialogue blending repetition with advance, an ending amusingly rounded off—but it has more as well. R ef is not merely the lucky fool, nor N eri merely the cunning counsellor; they are individu­ als whose changing relationship is delicately and firmly sketched, as in the older man’s repeated teasing references to the ox, and R ef’s embarrassed replies. Similarly, a m onstrous she-troll who is on the point of attacking Thorstein Oxleg suddenly acquires individuality in explaining why she had once fled before him : xxiv

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‘ I was very frightened, which was only natural in a little girl just nine years old—but I ’m twelve years old now.’ There is hum our everywhere, tempering the romanticism and preventing the brutality from degenerating into sadism. ‘The Story of Orm Storolfsson’ comes near to overstressing violence, but its most sickening moment, the ripping off of the beard and jaw-flesh of the giant Brusi, is much mitigated by the comment: ‘Brusi puckered his eyebrows and scowled rather hideously.’ Such humour is rough enough, and far removed from the sardonic understatements which are the typical wit of the Family Sagas, but its homely boyish tone has a considerable attraction. A few words must be said on the general features of the prose style, in so far as they affect the method of translation. The Ice­ landic of the sagas is a quick-moving colloquial language (except in passages where the ecclesiastic style left its mark), tending always to concision. Its vocabulary is restricted, and its syntax simple, except when terseness has led to markedly elliptic con­ structions. Therefore it can only lead to distortion if the trans­ lator uses a striking vocabulary enriched with rare, archaic, or dialectal words and idioms, or if he reproduces syntactic features (a lavish use of the historic present, of impersonal verbs, of inver­ sions of subject and verb) which in English tend to give a height­ ened ‘poetic’ tone, when in Icelandic they are in fact normal features of everyday prose. A more difficult problem is posed by the verses which are to be found scattered through the pages of every type of saga. They are not narratives, but belong to the other major type of Icelandic poetry, the scaldic (from skáld, a poet, especially a court poet). Their content is, in essence, a brief comment on a situation or person, often supposed to have been uttered extempore; it was for the elaborateness of their technique and the strictness of their form that they were prized. The number of syllables was rigidly limited, and a complex pattern of internal rhymes and assonances was superimposed on the alliteration which was basic to all Germanic poetry. A further and essential enrichment was the use of elaborate allusive periphrases as substitutes for such common words as ‘w arrior’, ‘king’, ‘sword’, ‘battle’, and so forth; this XXV

IN T R O D U C T I O N

stylistic feature was carried much further in the scaldic stanzas than in, for example, Old English epic. This form of verse was evolved in the ninth century and con­ tinued in use for several hundred years; it was used both for isolated strophes and (with further enrichments such as refrains) for sets of verses offered by the court poets of the Norwegian kings as praises to their patrons. As these often contained valu­ able factual inform ation, they were much quoted as sources in the historical sagas; several early Family Sagas too, taking poets as their heroes, drew heavily on their verses. Thus the presence o f verse in a saga was considered a guarantee of its historicity, and fictional saga-writers, aiming at realism, took care to include any verses traditionally ascribed to their heroes; if none such existed, they were quite prepared to invent them. The attem pt to translate such verses is a fascinating, but alm ost certainly hopeless, exercise. The translator m ust choose between a clear rendering with the minimum of complications, or an attem pt to reproduce something of their highly w rought patterns o f related sounds and their richness of periphrasis. Fortunately the problem is eased by the fact that the verses are alm ost always decorative, not functional, and th at the context goes far tow ards explaining the meaning. Indeed, the artistic essence o f the poem is in its m anner, and the content, though not negligible, is often subordinated to it. I have therefore adopted the opposite approach to th at used for the Eddie poems, and have tried to reproduce some of the m etrical and stylistic features, and above all the sound-patterns, o f the originals. It m ust however be added that the inset verses vary greatly in m erit from one saga to another, o r even within one saga; some are merely crude jingles, and have been rendered as such. The latest form o f Icelandic literature included in this an­ thology is the ballad. The first m ention of any ballad-type verse in Icelandic is the quotation of a satirical fragm ent on the com para­ tive power of two chieftains in 1221; a little later, in 1264, there is m ention of a m an who, when riding to meet a m an whom he rightly suspected would kill him, ‘set spurs to his horse and in a strong voice recited the dans, “ Heavy are my sorrows, heavy as lead” V The term dans was later often applied to ballads, and the 1Sturlunga saga, Islendinga saga, chs. 39, 200. xxvi

IN T R O D U C T IO N

line quoted might well be a ballad refrain, though it might also be a fragment of some more purely lyric form ; in any case, none o f the surviving ballads is thought to be as old as the thirteenth century. They reached their greatest popularity in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, though the chief manuscript collections are of the end of the seventeenth century. The ballad was im ported into Iceland from the Continent, especially from Denmark, and many are very closely linked to the whole corpus of European balladry. Among those chosen for this selection are two which are close analogues to well-known English ballads: ‘The H arp Song’ (‘Binnorie’) and ‘Lord R ibbald’ (‘Earl B rand’). The hum our of ‘The Goodman and the Goodwife’, similarly, is of a type not far removed from that of ‘G et up and Bar the D oor’, while the plot of ‘Iceling’ is to be found in medieval Latin verse, as well as in several vernaculars. The ballads brought new techniques and a new spirit to Ice­ landic poetry. They discard alliteration in favour of rhymed quat­ rains or couplets, the latter often being rather irregular in length and rhythm (as they also are in some of the Border ballads). They often introduce a purely lyrical element, the refrain; sometimes there is a repetition or partial repetition of lines from one stanza to the next, which is a device popular in Danish ballads and also well known in French. The technique of Icelandic ballads is thus based on effects which belong to a fam iliar English and European tradition, and which can be closely reproduced in translation. The themes too are for the most part borrowed from Europe; they are usually rom antic, with more stress on love than on fighting, on pathos than on tragedy. But the characteristic stark ferocity of Iceland still has its place, for instance in ‘H ildibrand’ or in ‘Logi of V allarahlid’. The latter is a particularly interesting blend: its basic plot, a love rivalry, a m urder, and the eventual vengeance of the murdered man’s son, is borrowed; but the treat­ m ent of various episodes is in the finest tradition of saga-writing —the foreboding symbolic dream of Adallist, the showing of the bloodstained shirt, the demand for blood-money contem ptuously disregarded, the retort of the boy to his m other when she fears he is too young to be an avenger: ‘In the jaws of young boar-pigs The sharp teeth early grow.’

xxvii

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The m an who adapted this ballad from its D anish source had a sure touch in the blending of native and foreign, of old and new. Among these ballads, that of ‘T ristran ’ is of great interest and has been often and justly praised for the tragic intensity with which it portrays the deaths of Tristran and Isolde. Its concen­ tration upon this last phase of their love and on the contrast between the two Isoldes shapes it powerfully tow ards concision and dram atic force; further power and em otional intensity is achieved by a simple but effective colour-symbolism. There is a running contrast between light and blackness, with a m ounting emphasis on the black: the ‘bright’ Isolde, as against ‘Isolde the B lack’ (far m ore commonly known as ‘Isolde o f the W hite H ands’); the black sails, as against the blue; when Isolde the Bright a t last comes to Tristran’s domains, it is ‘on the black sand’ that she sets foot. The blackness of these sands may well have been suggested by the actual blackness o f the volcanic beaches of Iceland, but its poetic effect is undoubted; it has become an image of death and doom, set between the m om ent o f T ristran’s ill-fated death and the tolling of his funeral bells. The poem deserves to rank high, not only am ong ballads, but also among the many and varied works which tell o f the love o f Tristran and Isolde. This survey o f medieval Icelandic literature has necessarily been brief and incomplete, and has avoided, as far as possible, any discussion o f unresolved controversies. N or can the actual selec­ tion of tales claim to be more than a fragm entary sampling o f a very rich field. It is my hope that those who are already fam iliar with the m ajor trium phs o f Icelandic literature may find here some tales which, though less well known, are still w orth the telling; and that any who may be meeting the writings o f Iceland for the first time in these pages will find th at their liveliness, power, and craftsm anship can still both move and entertain the m odem reader. J. S. 1964.

xxviii

Note on the Translation The treatment of Icelandic proper names in translation is a matter which raises some difficulties. In the following pages all personal names and names of places in the Scandinavian area have been left in their Icelandic forms, though with certain modifications, viz.: the letters þ and ð have been transliterated as th and d respectively; length marks and accents are omitted; and the final -r or doubled consonant of nominative endings has been dropped. Nicknames have been translated wherever possible. Non-Scandinavian place-names are given their usual English forms. The texts from which the translations have been made are those of the following editions: Sæmundar Edda, ed. Finnur Jónsson, Reykjavik, 1905. Sæmundar Edda, ed. B. Sijmons and H. Gering, Halle, 1906. Snorra Edda, ed. Finnur Jónsson, Copenhagen, 1926. íslendinga sögur, ed. GuSni Jónsson, Reykjavik, 1946-7. íslendinga Þættir, ed. GuSni Jönsson, Reykjavik, 1945. The íslenzk Fomrit series. Byskupa sögur, ed. Guðni Jönsson, Reykjavik, 1948. Sturlunga saga, ed. Jön Johannesson, Magnus Finnbogason, and Kristjån Eldjåm, Reykjavik, 1946. Icelandic Sagas I, ed. Guðbrandur Vigfússon, Rolls Series 88. Fomaldarsögur Norðurlanda, ed. Guðni Jönsson and Bjami Vilhjålmsson, Reykjavik, 1943-4. Fornir Dansar, ed. Ölafur Briem, Reykjavik, 1946. Icelandic sagas and poems are usually simply named after the chief character in them, but in this translation more varied titles have been provided, to serve as general guides to the contents of each item. In every case, however, the Icelandic title is also given. The omission of passages is shown by rows of asterisks or by a summary in italics; additions or emendations are placed in square brackets. The dates of sagas are only given if they are known with a fair degree of certainty. XXIX

ICELANDIC ENTERTAINERS

Sturla and King Magnus (Sturlunga saga, Sturlu þáttr, ch. 2) Sturla Thordarson, hero o f this anecdote, was a member o f the powerful Sturlung family and an outstanding historian and writer. In 1263 he was forced into exile as a result o f a feud with Hrafn Oddsson, and went to Norway. The king at that time was Hakon the Old, but he had delegated his power to his son Magnus while he himself was in the Orkneys preparing war against the Scots. Neither Hakon nor Magnus was well disposed towards Sturla. this Sturla set off from Eyrar to go abroad—he had almost no money. Their journey went well and they came to land at Bergen, and King Magnus was in residence there. There too in Bergen was Gaut of Mel.1 Sturla at once went to find Gaut, who welcomed him well and said: ‘Are you Sturla the Icelander?’ ‘T hat’s so indeed’, said he. Gaut said: ‘You, like the other Sturlungs, can find free board with me.’ Sturla said: ‘There’s no certainty of my finding better oppor­ tunity.’ Then he went to stay at Gaut’s, and told him quite openly all about why he had come there. But Gaut, on the other hand, told him how gravely he had been slandered in King Magnus’s hear­ ing, and even more in King Hakon’s. Not long afterwards both Gaut and Sturla presented themselves before King Magnus.

A fter

1 A Norwegian chieftain, friend o f the Sturlungs.

1

I C E L A N D I C E NT ER TA I N ER S

G aut greeted the king, and he answered graciously. Sturla also greeted the king, and he did not answer at all. The king said: ‘Tell me, Gaut, who is this man who has come with you?’ ‘This man is the poet Sturla Thordarson, and he has now come to throw himself on your mercy—and I believe him, sire, to be a wise man.’ The king said: ‘I think that he wouldn’t have come here if he had any choice in the matter, and he may yet find the truth of this when he meets my father.’ G aut spoke thus: ‘It is, so I think, because he has a poem to offer you, and one for your father too.’ ‘It’s very likely’, said the king, ‘that I shall not have him killed. But he will not take service in my court.* G aut and Sturla then went away. And when they had come to their lodgings, Gaut said to Sturla: ‘ It looked to me as if the king was being difficult over your case, but at least you have quarter granted you. And it’s my opinion that you have been gravely slandered.’ Sturla said: ‘I’ve no doubt of that—indeed, I feel certain that Hrafn must have slandered me gravely here, when even in Iceland I thought he talked too much of big and little matters, true and false.’ The next day after this G aut again went down to the king’s dwelling. And when he came back and he and Sturla were talking, G aut said: 'N ow there’s been a new turn in your affairs, for the king now wants you to travel south with him along the coast.* Sturla said: ‘The king must needs have his own way, but I*m not eager to leave here.’ Then he made ready for the journey with the king, and was enrolled on one of the ships. He went to the ship, and not many men had come. He had a hammock and a light chest. He settled himself on the fore-deck. Shortly afterwards the king came up the gang-plank, and a troop of men with him. Sturla then stood up and bowed to him and greeted him; but the king did not answer a t all, and went aft along the ship to the upper deck. All day they sailed south along the coast. But at evening, when the men brought out their stores of food, Sturla sat still, and nobody invited him to eat. Then a servant o f the king passed 2

S T U RL A A N D K I N G M A G N U S

along the ship, and he asked Sturla whether he had any food or drink. He said he had neither. Then the servant went up to the king, and spoke quietly to him. Then he went forward to Sturla and said: ‘ You are to go and mess with Thorir Mouth and Erlend Paunch.’ These men welcomed him, but rather curtly. And when the men were lying down to sleep, the king’s fo’c’sle man asked which of them would entertain them with a saga. Most of them remained silent at this. Then he said: ‘Sturla the Icelander, will you entertain us?’ ‘ Have it your own way’, said Sturla. Then he told the saga of Huld, better and with fuller informa­ tion than any of them had heard it told before, among all who were there. Many came crowding on to the fore-deck, wanting to hear as clearly as possible; there was a great crowd there. The queen said: ‘What’s that crowd over there on the fore-deck ? * A man said: ‘The people there want to hear a saga which that Icelander is telling.’ She said: ‘W hat saga is it?’ He answered: ‘It’s about a huge she-troll, and it’s a good saga, and indeed it’s being well told.’ The king told her to take no notice of this and to go to sleep. She said: ‘It’s my opinion that that Icelander must be a fine fellow, and less to blame than has been reported.’ The king was silent. Then the men went to sleep for that night. The next morning there was no good wind, and the king lay at anchor in the same spot. And when the men were sitting at their drink that day, the king sent Sturla a gift of food from his own table. Sturla’s messmates were glad of this: ‘And we’ll get more good from you than we expected, if this sort of thing becomes a frequent habit.’ And when the men had eaten their fill, the queen sent for Sturla and bade him come to her, and bring his she-troll saga with him. Then Sturla went aft to the upper deck and greeted the king and queen; the king returned his greeting in a low voice, but the queen did so readily and courteously. The queen bade him tell the same saga as he had told the previous evening. He did so, and spent a great part of the day on the saga. And when he had told it the queen thanked him, and so did many others, and they could tell B 3

I C E L A N D I C EN T ER TA I N ER S

that he was a learned man, and a wise one. But the king did not answer at all—but all the same, he did smile a little. Then Sturla thought he could see that the king’s whole attitude was more cheerful than the previous day, so then he told the king that he had composed a poem in his praise, and also one on his father. ‘I would like you to listen to them.’ The queen said: ‘Let him recite them, for I’ve been told that he is the finest of poets, and the poem must be remarkably good.’ The king bade him recite, if he wanted to, ‘whatever you think you’ve composed about m e’. Then Sturla recited, till the poem was at an end. The queen said: ‘It’s my opinion that the poem is well made.’ The king said: ‘Are you able to follow it quite clearly?’ 1 She said: ‘I would like you to think the same, sire.’ The king said: ‘I have heard it said that Sturla knows how to make verses.’ Sturla bade farewell to the king and queen, and went back to his place. The king got no wind to sail that day. But when evening came, before he went to bed he had Sturla sent for. And when he came, he greeted the king and then said: ‘W hat do you want of me, sire?’ The king bade them bring a silver goblet filled with wine, drank some of it, and then handed it to Sturla and said: ‘Let friend toast friend with wine! * Sturla said: ‘God be praised that it should be so!’ ‘So it shall be’, said the king. ‘And now I want you to recite the poem you composed in honour of my father.’ Sturla then recited the poem. And when it was over, men praised it highly, and the queen most of all. The king said: ‘It’s my opinion that you recite better than the Pope himself.’ The king questioned Sturla about his coming there. Sturla told the king, clearly and directly, about his clashes with Hrafn: ‘But I know now, sire, that I have been slandered in your father’s hearing and your own, and not on truthful grounds. Now I am in need of God’s mercy, as are all men, and also of your help, sire; and now all my affairs are in your power.’ 1 The queen was D anish, and the style o f court poetry was notoriously obscure.

4

S T U RL A A N D K I N G M A GN US

The king answered pleasantly and calmly: ‘Now I have heard your poem, Sturla, and I think you must be the best of poets. Now the reward I will decree for it is that you shall come home with me under my protection and with guarantee of peace. It will be for my father to pass judgment on the case in so far as it con­ cerns him, when you and he meet, but I’ll put in a good word for you.’ The queen thanked the king, and said she thought that Sturla was a very fine fellow. The king then welcomed Sturla and offered him fine and honourable entertainment; the queen showed remarkable favour to him, and so too, afterwards, did the others. And within a short while Sturla came to be on most affectionate terms with the king, and the king made great use of him in his plans, and assigned him the task of putting together a saga on his father King Hakon, under his own guidance and based on the accounts of the wisest men. But before the king had this saga put together, King Hakon had died out in the Orkneys; and through all the Northern Lands men thought this news of great importance and a very heavy loss. And later, during a second journey abroad, Sturla again stayed with King Magnus, in happy circumstances and highly esteemed. At that time he put together a saga on King Magnus, based on written notes and under his own guidance. He then became a courtier of King Magnus, and after that, ‘King’s Squire’. 1 He made many poems on King Magnus, and received many and various honours for them. 1 Skutilsvelnn, a title bestowed on high-ranking courtiers.

5

An Icelandic Story-Teller (íslendings páttr sggufróðá) I t so happened that one summer an Icelandic man, young and lively, came to King Harald 1 and asked him for help. The king asked him whether he had any learning, and he said he knew some sagas. Then the king said he would accept him at court, but that he would be bound to provide entertainment whenever it was wanted, whoever might ask him. And he did so and became well liked at court, and the courtiers gave him clothes and the king bestowed weapons on him. And now time went by till the Christmas season. Then the Icelander grew sad, and the king asked him what this might mean. He said his moody nature was the cause. ‘That can’t be so’, said the king, ‘and I ’ll make my own guess. My guess is this’, said he, ‘that you’ve come to the end of your sagas; you have always provided entertainment all winter for everyone who asked. It must seem hard for you to run dry at Christmas time.’ ‘It’s just as you guessed’, said he. ‘There is only one saga left, yet I would not dare tell it here, for it is the story of your own travels abroad.’ a The king said: ‘That, however, is just the saga I would most like to hear. Now, you are not to give any entertainment from now till Christmas, as men are busy at present. But on the first day of Christmas you must begin this saga and recite a short section of it, and I’ll arrange things for you in such a way that the saga and the Christmastide will each last as long as the other; there is always heavy drinking at Christmas, and it’s only for a short while at a time that people would sit and listen to such entertainments. And you won’t be able, while you are telling it, to see from my looks whether I think well of it or badly.’12 1 H arald Sigurdarson the Stem , King o f Norway, 1046-66. Cf. p. 104 ff. 2 H arald had travelled by way o f Russia to Byzantium, and from there to the M editerranean coasts, to Italy, Sicily, and the Holy Land. 6

AN I C E L AN DI C S TORY-TELLER

And so it came about that the Icelander did tell this saga; he began it on the first day of Christmas and spoke for a while, and soon the king ordered him to stop. The men started drinking, and many of them remarked that at any rate it showed boldness that the Icelander should tell this saga, and wondered what the king must think of it; some thought he was telling it well, but some were less impressed. So Christmas time passed. The king took good care that everyone should listen well; and because of the way the king managed things, it was just at the same time that the saga was finished and that Christmas came to an end. So on Twelfth Night, as the saga had been finished earlier that day, the king said: ‘Aren’t you at all curious, Icelander’, said he, ‘to know how I like the saga?’ ‘I am frightened about it, sire’, said he. The king said: ‘ I found it very good, and never unworthy of its subject matter. Who taught you this saga?’ He answered: ‘It was a habit of mine, out in my own country, to go every summer to the General Assembly, and every summer I learnt a little of the saga from Halldor Snorrason.’ 1 ‘Then it’s not surprising that you know it well’, said the king, ‘and it will always bring you good luck. You are welcome to stay with me, and will always have the right to do so whenever you wish.’ The king gave him a fine stock of merchandise, and his affairs prospered. 1 H alldor Snorrason had accompanied Harald on his journeys.

7

Ottar9s Head-Ransom (Ottars þáttr svarta) was an Icelander called Ottar; he was a good poet, and he stayed for some time at the court of King Olaf of Sweden.1 He wrote a set of love-verses about Astrid, a daughter of King Olaf of Sweden, and this gave great displeasure to King Olaf the S a in t;123this poem was boldly expressed, and came near to making certain insinuations. So when Ottar came back to Norway, King Olaf the Saint had him seized and thrown into a dungeon, and meant to have him put to death. Now the poet Sighvat3 was a close kinsman of Ottar. He went to the dungeon by night, and when he came there he asked O ttar how he was enjoying himself. Ottar answered by saying that he had known more cheerful moments. Sighvat then asked him to recite the poem he had made about Astrid, and Ottar recited the poem as Sighvat had asked. And when he had come to the end of the poem, Sighvat said: ‘This poem is very boldly expressed, and it’s not at all strange that it should displease the king. Now you and I must alter the verses in this poem that have the most outspoken words, and then after­ wards you must compose another poem about the king. He will certainly demand to hear the poem from you before you are put to death. Now when you have recited the first poem, you are not to let your recitation come to an end, but rather you must at once begin the poem you have made about the king, and recite it while you can.’ Ottar did as Sighvat said. He composed, during the three nights he was in the dungeon, a set of verses about King Olaf. And when Ottar had been three nights in the dungeon, King Olaf gave orders that he should be brought before him. T here

1 Olaf Eiriksson, died c. 1022. 2 Olaf Haraldsson o f Norway (1015-30) had m arried Astrid of Sweden. 3 Sighvat Thordarson, court poet and counsellor o f O laf the Saint, was O ttar’s uncle. 8

o t t a r ’s h e a d

-ransom

And when Ottar appeared before the king, he greeted the king; but the king would not return his greeting, but rather said to O ttar: ‘It would be a good plan now’, said the king, ‘that you, Ottar, should recite the poem you made about the queen before you are put to death, for the queen ought to hear the praises you have made for her.’ Queen Astrid was sitting on the high-seat next to the king while he and Ottar were talking. Ottar sat down on the floor at the king’s feet and recited his poem. The king grew red as he recited. And when the poem was ended, Ottar did not let the recitation come to an end, but rather he at once began the set of verses which he had made about the king; but the king’s courtiers shouted out, saying that this scurrilous versifier should be silent. Then Sighvat said: ‘It’s very likely’, said he, ‘that the king will still have power to put Ottar to death as soon as he wishes, even if he does recite this poem first. Let us listen carefully to the poem, for it is right for us to hear praise of our king.’ The courtiers fell silent at these words of Sighvat’s, and O ttar recited the verses to the end. And when it was ended, Sighvat praised the poem very highly and said it was well made. Then King Olaf said: ‘It is only right, Ottar, that you should be allowed to keep your head, for this once, in payment for these verses.’ O ttar answered: ‘To me this seems a very fine gift, sire, even though the head is no handsome one.’ King Olaf took a gold ring from his arm and gave it to Ottar. Queen Astrid sent a finger-ring rolling across the floor to Ottar and said: ‘Catch this sparkler, poet, and keep it.’ King Olaf said: ‘So you couldn’t entirely stop yourself from showing your friendliness towards O ttar.’ The queen answered: ‘You can’t blame me for it, sire, for I wished to reward the praise of me, as you did that of you.’ The king answered: ‘For this once, I shall not hold it against you that you gave this rich gift; still, you can well believe that from now on I ’ll not be much pleased by any friendship between you, because of the poem Ottar made about you.’ Now O ttar stayed for a long while with the king. The set of verses which O ttar made about King Olaf is called ‘HeadRansom ’, because O ttar saved his head as reward for that poem.

9

LAYS OF GODS AND LEGENDARY HEROES

Thor’s Hammer ( prymskvida. Poetic Edda)

W hen Thor awoke, his rage was great To see his hammer was lost; He shook his beard, he groped around, His red hair he tossed. And these were the first words he spoke: ‘Listen, Loki, to what I say— A thing unheard-of in heaven or earth— A god’s hammer stolen away!’ Then they went to Freyja’s fair home, And these first words he spoke: ‘Freyja, to find my hammer again, Will you lend me your feather-cloak?’

* B

‘To you I would give my feather-cloak, Though of gold it were; To you I would grant my feather-cloak, Though of silver it were.’ 11

LAVS OF GODS A N D L E GE N DA RY HEROES

Then Loki he flew, and on he flew (The feather-cloak whistled shrill), Till he left the land of the gods, and came To the world where giants dwell. There Thrym, the lord of the giants, sat; He sat on a burial mound, Twisting a chain of shining gold As a leash to hold his hound. ‘How fare the gods?’ asked the giant Thrym, Trimming his horse’s mane; ‘How fare the elves? And why come you To Giant-Land alone?’ ‘Ill fare the gods now, ill fare the elves’, Loki replied again; ‘Have you hidden the hammer of Thundering Thor, Sender of Storm and R ain?’ ‘I’ve hidden the hammer of Thundering Thor Eight leagues beneath the ground; Unless he brings Freyja to be my wife, By no man shall it be found.’ Then Loki he flew, and on he flew (The feather-cloak whistled shrill), Till he left the world of giants, and came To the homes where high gods dwell. There he met Thor in the high gods’ home, And these first words Thor spoke: ‘Have you won any news for all your pain, For the toil you undertook? ‘Tell me whatever long tale you bring, But tell it as you fly, For a man who sits down will forget his news, And one who lies down will lie.’

12

t h o r ’s h a m m e r

‘Thrym has your hammer, the giants’ lord, (This news I won for my pain); Unless he brings Freyja to be Thrym’s wife, No man shall find it again.’ So then Thor went to Freyja the fair, And these first words spoke he: ‘ Freyja, bind on your bridal veil, Come to Giant-Land with me.’ Then Freyja gave such a snort of rage That all the gods’ halls shook, And the great necklace the Brisings made, About her neck it broke. ‘I ’d know that I must be running mad With lusting for a man, If ever I did set out with you To go to Giant-Land!’ The high gods then in council met, And goddesses in talk; They sought a plan, the mighty lords, To win Thor’s hammer back. Then up and spoke Heimdall the white (The future he could see): ‘Put a bridal veil on Thor himself, And a skirt about his knee; ‘Let him have the necklace the Brisings made, Broad jewels on his breast; And on his head a pleated coif Most cunningly we’ll twist.’ Then up and spoke the valiant Thor: ‘How unmanly you’d call me, If I let you dress me in bridal veil, With a skirt about my knee!’ 13

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E GE N DA RY HEROES

‘But giants will live in Asgard soon’, Said Loki, Laufey’s son, ‘Unless you win your hammer back, So, Thor, now hold your tongue!’ So they dressed Thor then in the bridal veil, With a skirt about his knees, And from his belt they hung a bunch Of rattling, jingling keys. They gave him the necklace the Brisings made, Broad jewels for his breast, And on his head a pleated coif Most cunningly did twist. Then up spoke Loki, Laufey’s son: ‘I’ll travel by your side; I’ll go to Giant-Land with you, As handmaid to the bride.’ Thor’s goats were fetched and harnessed fast, And well and fast they ran; The mountains split, the wildfire flashed— Thor drove to Giant-Land. Then up spoke Thrym, the giants’ lord: ‘Up, ogres all!’ he cried, ‘Adorn the hall, for Freyja comes, Njord’s daughter, as my bride! ‘Bring here, bring here the gold-homed cows, Bring here the oxen black, And slaughter them for our delight, That no joy we may lack. ‘Much is my treasure, many my gems, Much gold as well I own; I think there is nothing that now I lack, Excepting Freyja alone.’ 14

t h o r ’s h a m m e r

So early, as the evening fell, The guests came to the hall; Before the giants horns were placed, Filled with bridal ale. But one there was, the bride herself, Who ate a huge ox whole, Eight salmons too, and all the cakes, And drank three vats of ale. ‘Who ever saw’, cried giant Thrym, ‘So keen an appetite? No girl I ’ve seen could drink so deep, No bride so hugely bite!’ But the crafty handmaid sat near by, And she an answer found: ‘For eight days Freyja never ate, She so longed for Giant-Land.’ Thrym raised the veil to beg a kiss, But reeled back through the hall: *Oh why are Freyja’s eyes so fierce? Fire darts from her eyeball!’ But the crafty handmaid sat near by, And she an answer found: ‘For eight nights Freyja never slept, She so longed for Giant-Land.’ In came the giant’s foul sister, Who dared a gift to crave: ‘Give me the gold rings from your hands, And my friendship you will have.’ ‘Bring in the holy hammer now !’ Thrym, lord of giants, cried, ‘Lay Mjollnir on this maiden’s knee, As blessing to the bride!’ 15

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E GE N DA RY HEROES

Then Thor the Thunderer laughed aloud When he his hammer saw— With the first blow laid the great Thrym low And felled him to the floor. He slew the giant’s foul sister, Who’d dared a gift to crave; She got a blow instead of rings, Instead of gold, a grave. And one by one he struck them down, Slew all the giant’s kin; And thus the son of Odin won His hammer back again.

The Prophecy of the Wise- Woman (Extracts from Vgluspá. Poetic Edda) The poem is uttered by a prophetess whom Odin has sum­ moned, apparently from the world o f the dead. First she proves her knowledge by telling o f events in primeval times, then reveals certain secrets o f the gods, and finally foretells the destruction and renewal o f the world. The opening and close o f the poem are here translated; a few mythological allusions have occasionally been simplified or omitted, for the sake o f clarity. I . THE M A K IN G OF THE W O RLD

H ear me in silence, O holy races! O sons of Heimdall,1 great and small! You bid me, Odin, tell old tales, The earliest I recall. 1 Heimdall was a god, b u t his ‘sons’ are probably m ankind.

16

THE P R OP HE C Y OF THE W I S E - W O MA N

I remember the giant bom of old Who reared me long ago; I remember the nine wide-stretching worlds, And the Tree of the Worlds below.1 The earliest age was when Ymir lived; * No sand, no sea was there, No heaven nor earth, but the Gaping Void, And no grass anywhere. The gods raised the land and made Middle Earth, The southern sun was glowing On rocky halls, and on all the ground Green leeks were a-growing. From the south the sun stretched out his hand, Laid it on heaven’s rim; The sun knew not where he would find The hall assigned to him; The stars knew not, the moon knew not The homes assigned to them. The holy gods went to their judgment seats; They gave a name to night, To morning and midday, mid-morn and eve, To reckon the years aright. The great gods met upon Idavoll, Temples they built and shrines, Forges and tools and tongs they made, And smithied the wealth that shines.12 1 Yggdrasil, the cosmic ash tree whose branches and trunk support all the worlds. 2 A giant; according to some legends, the gods killed him and formed earth, sea, and sky from the fragments o f his body.

17

LAYS OF GODS A N D LE G E N DA RY HEROES

I I . THE DOOM OF GODS AND MEN

In the east in Ironwood sat the old hag, Fenrir’s wolf-brood rearing,1 Of whom would come one to destroy the sun, In troll-like shape appearing. He gorges on lives of death-doomed men, Reddens the skies with gore; The summer sun darkens, wild storms arise— Do you seek to know yet more? Gay on the burial-mound Eggthir harped, Guarding the old hag’s herds; Above him crowed the bright red cock In the forest of the birds. And Goldencomb crowed for the gods, to wake Heroes in Odin’s hall; But another cock crowed down under the earth, The rusty-black cock of Hell. Garm 8 barks loud at the gates of Hell; Bonds all break; the wolf runs fre e ;3 Much knowledge have I, and I see far off The doom of the gods of victory. Kinsmen dishonour their kinship’s bonds, Brother fights to slay brother; All grows cruel and harsh on earth, No man will spare another. The age of halberds, the age of swords; Every shield now smashes; The age of storm-winds, the age of wolves, Before the whole world crashes. 1 Fenrir was a m onstrous wolf, son o f the evil god Loki: nothing m ore is known o f his mate the hag o f Ironw ood, b u t several sources mention their offspring, the wolves who will swallow the sun and the moon. 1 A hound guarding the entrance o f Hell. * Fenrir; the gods had chained him, fearing his evil powers.

18

THE P ROP HEC Y OF THE W I S E - W O MA N

Destined death is proclaimed aloud By the ancient Gjallarhorn; 1 Heimdall blows loud, and high aloft Is raised that warning horn. Yggdrasil trembles, that towering ash, Loud groans that ancient tree; All those who tread the paths of the dead Feel fear; the giant breaks free. Garm barks loud at the gates of Hell; Bonds all break; the wolf runs free; Much knowledge have I, and I see far off The doom of the gods of victory. Hrym 2 drives from the east, his shield held high; The Great Snake lashes the sea, Writhing and raging in monster’s rage; The Ship of the Dead rides free; The eagle will shriek, and with yellow beak Will slash each dead body. The Ship comes from the east, and Muspel’s men 8 Are coming across the sea; Monsters are coming, and all the wolves; The steersman is Loki.* How fare the gods now? How fare the elves? All Giant-Land shall roar; Cliff-dwarfs groan by their doors of stone— Do you seek to know yet more? Surt comes from the south,* and fire he brings, Branches and twigs to ravage; From his sword light blazes to be a sun To all the gods of carnage. 1 The horn whose note summons the gods o f war. 2 A destructive giant. 8 A race o f fire-ogres. * The m ost evil o f the gods, who here allies himself with the monsters and destructive ogres. 5 A fire-ogre.

19

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E G E N D A RY HEROES

Heroes now tread the paths of the dead; Trolls to ruin tumble; The skies are split and are tom apart, Rock-towers crash and crumble. Then comes the second sorrow of Hlin,1 When Odin goes forth to fight Against the wolf (bright Frey 2 fights Surt), For there dies Frigg’s delight. Then Odin’s son shall face the wolf, His son, the mighty Vidar; He drives his sword to the monster’s heart, Takes vengeance for his father. Then comes Thor to meet the Snake, Strikes it dead in his wrath— All men shall flee from their homesteads then— Nine paces Thor steps forth With ebbing strength, away from the Snake, Dauntless in face of death. The sun grows black, earth sinks in the sea, The bright stars fade from the sky; Fires and fumes are raging; to heaven itself The flickering heat leaps high. Garm barks loud at the gates of Hell; Bonds all break; the wolf runs free; Much knowledge have I, and I see far off The doom of the gods of victory. Yet I see earth rise from the waves again, Green now for evermore; The waterfalls flow, and the eagle flies Hunting fish along the shore. 1 Another name for Frigg, O din’s wife; her first sorrow was the death o f her son Baldr. 2 The god o f fertility, agriculture, and the sun.

20

THE P R OP HE CY OF THE W I S E - W O MA N

The great gods meet on Idavoll; They recall the high deeds done, Speak of the huge world-circling Snake, Of the old runes Odin won. And once again in the grass are found Draughtsmen all of gold, The wondrous draughtsmen the gods had owned In the earliest days of old. Fields will spring up though no seed is sown, There is cure for each sorrow sore; Baldr will come, and with Hodd shall he dwell— 1 Do you seek to know yet more? I see a hall all thatched with gold Stand fairer than the sun; There just men shall live and rejoice in bliss While endless ages run. Then there will come the Powerful One,* The Mighty from above, To sit on the judgment-seats of the gods; All power shall he have. The dragon of darkness comes flying there, Bright snake from the world below, Flies over fields with a corpse on his wings— 1*3 Now must she sink low .1 1 The death o f Baldr had been the greatest m isfortune o f the gods; his return and reconciliation with his brother H odd (who had killed him acci­ dentally, as a result o f an evil trick o f Loki’s) symbolize the peace o f the renewed world. * The allusion may possibly be to Christ; some critics think this stanza an interpolation. 3 This stanza m ight be misplaced, or an interpolation. If not, it is pre­ sumably a warning that evil is indestructible and will threaten even the renewed world. * The wise-woman, having completed her prophecy, sinks back into the underworld from which Odin had called her to question her.

21

Helgi and Sigrun (Extracts from Vglsungakviða hin forna, also known as Helgakvida Hundingsbana II. Poetic Edda) K i n g S i g m u n d , son of Volsung, married Borghild of Bralund. They called their son Helgi, in memory of Helgi son of Hjorvard. . . .* There was a king called Hogni; his daughter was Sigrun. She was a valkyrie and rode over air and sea; she was Svafa born ag ain .. . .* [A certain chieftain named Hodbrodd] claimed Sigrun as his betrothed wife, but when she heard of it she rode off with the valkyries over air and sea to find Helgi. . . . She found him and ran into his arms and kissed him and told him why she had come —as it says in the Old Lay o f the Volsungs:

Sigrun sought the gracious prince, Took Helgi’s hand in hers, Kissed the king in his helm and mail, Hailed him with fair words. He set his heart on the woman, This son of the Volsung race; She said she had loved him with all her heart Before ever she saw his face. Sigrun said: ‘Though I yearned for another chieftain, To Hodbrodd I was pledged; I have broken my father’s dearest wish, I fear my kinsmen’s rage.’ 1 The hero o f a previous poem in the E dda. * Svafa was a valkyrie princess whom Helgi son of H jorvard had loved.

22

HELGI A N D S I G R U N

Hogni’s daughter spoke no word That went against her mind; She said that it was Helgi’s love That she most wished to find. Helgi said: 4Pay no need to Hogni’s rage, Nor your kinsmen’s hearts so grim; Young maiden, you shall live with me— I do not fear your kin.’ *

*

*

*

*

1

Then Hodbrodd and his brothers gathered an army. Many kings came there. Hogni, Sigrun’s father, came, and so did his sons Bragi and Dag. Then there was a great battle and Hodbrodd and his brothers all fell, and so did all those chieftains—except that Dag, Hogni’s son, accepted quarter and swore an oath to keep the peace with the Volsungs. Sigrun went about among the dead and came upon Hodbrodd at the point of death; she said: ‘Never, king Hodbrodd, shall Sigrun come To lie down in your bed; That time is past; the grey wolves now Shall feast upon you, dead.’ Then she met Helgi and was filled with joy; he said: ‘Good luck is not yours in every chance, For in some the Norns 2 hold sway; Hogni your father and Bragi too Fell by my hand today. ‘All but one of your kin are slain, Cold corpses there they lie; It was your fate that for your sake Many great men should die.’ 1 Passage omitted in translation. 2 Goddesses o f Fate.

23

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E GE N DA RY HEROES

Then Sigrun wept, but Helgi said: ‘Weep not, Sigrun, be comforted, Though you were cause of strife; No man can make a stand against The fate that rules his life.’ Sigrun said: ‘Would that my spells could raise to life The men who now lie dead! And yet I would that I might come And lay me in your bed.’ Helgi married Sigrun and they had sons. Helgi did not live to see old age. Dag, Hogni’s son, offered a blood-sacrifice to Odin that his father might be avenged; Odin gave Dag his spear. Dag met his brother-in-law Helgi at the place called Fjoturlund. He struck out at Helgi with the spear. There Helgi fell, but Dag rode to Sevafjoll and told Sigrun the news: ‘O sister, sister, loth am I To speak to you of woe; Against my will I am the cause My sister’s tears must flow. ‘Today a prince fell in Fjoturlund, The best the world could show, A lord whose footstool was the necks Of warriors he laid low.’ Sigrun said: ‘ May all the oaths turn and pierce you, The oaths of loyalty, Which you have sworn to Helgi By the cold cliff of the sea! ‘If you sail a ship, may it never sail, Though the wind blow fair and free! If you ride a horse, may it never run, Though your foes force you to flee! 24

HELGI A N D S I G R U N

‘If you draw a sword in battle, May that blade not bite, Unless it sing on your own head The song of deadly fight! ‘Fit vengeance it were for Helgi’s death If you were a wolf in the wood, Stripped of all wealth and all delight, Corpses your only food.’ Dag said: ‘Mad are you, sister, your wits are gone, To curse your brother so; Odin alone, the lord of war, Is cause of every woe, For he, between kinsmen closely linked, The runes of war did throw. ‘Your brother will give you red-gold rings And lands to hold in fieff; You and your sons shall have half my lands In payment for this grief.’ Sigrun said: ‘I shall never have joy in life By dawning nor by night, Unless to those whose lord he was Dawn should bring back the light; ‘Unless there should gallop hither The steed with golden rein, Bearing the chieftain back to me, Who would welcome him again. ‘Helgi struck terror to the hearts Of each one of his foes, As when in fear before the wolf Run maddened mountain goats. 25

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E GE N DA RY HEROES

‘Helgi surpassed all other lords As the fair-shaped ash the thorn, As a young stag outstrips all other beasts, Dabbled with dew at dawn, When, flashing as high as heaven itself, The light gleams from its horn.’ A burial mound was raised over H elgi.. . . Sigrun’s slavewoman was passing by Helgi’s mound one evening and saw Helgi ride up to the mound with many men. The slave-woman said: ‘Is this a dream I seem to see, Or is it the Gods’ Doom? Are you who spur your steeds dead men? Have you leave now to come home?’ Helgi said: ‘This is no dream you seem to see, Nor is the world’s end come, Though true it is we spur our steeds— Leave have we to come home.’ The slave-woman went home and said to Sigrun: ‘ Go out, Sigrun, from Sevafjoll, If you long to meet your lord; Helgi has come; the burial mound Stands open and unbarred. ‘ From gaping wounds the gore runs down, And this the chieftain bade: That you should come yourself to staunch The flowing of his blood.’ Sigrun went into the burial mound to Helgi; she said: ‘O now that we two meet again, It’s glad, glad am I— As Odin’s greedy hawks are glad When they see warm corpses lie, Or, spattered with the morning dew, See daybreak in the sky.

26

HELGI A N D S I G R U N

‘ First I will kiss you, lifeless king, Still in your bloodstained mail; The hair of your head, O Helgi, lord, Is thick with frost and hail. ‘O Helgi, your hands are cold and dank, You are covered by death’s dew; How shall I, O king, win blood-money That could atone for you?’ Helgi said: ‘ Sigrun, it is through you alone That the corpse-dew covers me; Each night before you go to rest You weep most bitterly. ‘O sun-bright lady, on my breast Like blood each tear must flow, Dank and cold, yet burning hot, And heavy with your woe. ‘Let us drink deep of the precious drinks, Though our joy and lands be lost; Let no man sing a dirge for me, Though he see my wounded breast. ‘Now within the burial mound, Beside us who are dead, Living ladies, gold-bedecked, Are come to make their bed.’ Sigrun made ready a bed in the burial mound: ‘Helgi, this bed have I made for you, Most free from grief and harms; As I would do with the living lord, I’ll sleep here in your arms.’ 27

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E G E N D A RY HEROES

Helgi said: ‘No man could think to see this sight, It is a wondrous thing— You, fair and white, in a burial mound, O daughter of a king! ‘Never again, early or late, Shall men see such a sight— You sleeping here in a dead man’s arms, 0 living lady bright! ‘It’s time I rode the red sky-paths, They redden now towards day; It’s time I made my pale horse run Along the steep sky-way. ‘Across the bridge of the windswept sky 1 must go to the west, Before the cock at the world’s end Wakes warriors from their rest.’ Helgi and his companions rode on their way, but the women went back to their homestead. The next evening Sigrun made the slave-woman keep watch by the burial mound; but at sunset, when Sigrun came to the mound, she said: ‘If Helgi thought to leave Odin’s halls He would have come by now; Now already the eagles sit Upon the ash-tree bough. ‘ My hopes that he would come again Are now quite withering; Now to the meeting-place of dreams All men are hastening.’ The slave-woman said: ‘Be not so mad as to go alone To dead men’s halls by night; All dead fiends grow more powerful then Than in the bright daylight.’

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V O L U N D THE SMITH

Sigrun lived only a short while for sorrow and grief. There was a belief in the old days that men were bom again, but that is now called an old wives’ tale. Helgi and Sigrun are said to have been bom again; he was then called Helgi Haddingjaskati, and she Kara Halfdan’s daughter (as is said in the Lay o f Kara); and she was a valkyrie.

Volund the Smith (Extracts from Vglundarkvida. Poetic Edda) Volund is known in English folklore as Wayland the Smith, and the main episode o f the story o f his vengeance on King Nidud can be seen carved on the Franks Casket in the British Museum. The poem about him in the ‘Poetic Edda ’ is unfortu­ nately corrupt in several passages. Its opening tells how Volund and his two brothers found three swan-maidens, who lived with them as their wives for nine years, and then vanished. The two elder brothers left home to seek them, but Volund remained behind, hoping that his wife Hervor would return. R ed gold he forged into jewelled rings, On a band he threaded them, And waited so till his shining bride Should come again to him.

Nidud, lord of the Njars, soon learned That Volund stayed alone; His warriors rode to the hall by night, Their studded mailcoats shone; Their shields gleamed bright in the moonlight, At the waning of the moon.

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They lighted down by the gable wall, Searched the hall from end to end, And there they saw the threaded rings On the bast-rope bound. Volund had seven hundred rings; They took them from the band, But only one they took away; The rest they left behind. Home from his hunting then he came, Volund, the archer good; He knew the signs of weather and wind, And distant paths he trod. He went to roast the good bear-meat At a fire of brushwood dry; The wind had dried his wood so well That soon the flames burned high. On the bearskin sitting, he counted his rings, And saw that one was gone; He thought wise Hervor had taken it, And had returned again. Long he sat there, until he slept; Joyless he woke from sleep— He found heavy shackles upon his hands, Fetters upon his feet. ‘What men are those who laid on me These fetters and this bond? Who are they who with ropes of bast Hold me now fast bound?’ Then said Nidud, lord of the Njars: ‘O Volund, elvish lord, How came my gold into Ulfdalir? Where did you get this hoard? 30

V O L U N D T H E S M IT H

‘This gold came not from Grani’s path Where dragon’s treasures shine, And far away from this our land Are the high hills of the Rhine.’ 1 Volund said: ‘Nay, I remember that once I owned Treasures more rich and fair, When happy we lived in our own home; [No gold of yours is there.]’ Nidud’s crafty queen came in the hall, Spoke low and cunningly: ‘This man who comes from the forests here, No gentle look has he!’ Now King Nidud had given to his daughter Bodvild the ring he had taken from the rope of bast in Volund’s house, and he himself was wearing the sword which had been Volund’s, and therefore the queen said: ‘ His eyes are like a flashing snake, He grits his teeth and glares When the sword is shown, or if he sees The ring that Bodvild wears. ‘Cut through the tendons of his leg, The sinews that are strong, And take him then to Sævarstad, That there he may live long.’ So it was done: the sinews in the crook of his knee were slashed, and he was put on an island which lay off the coast of that country, and which was called Sævarstad. There he worked as a smith and 1 G rani was the horse o f Sigurd the Volsung, on whose back Sigurd loaded the treasure he won from the dragon. (S e e below, p. 44.) N idud is accusing Volund o f theft, and argues that since Volund has not acquired the wealth o f the distant Volsungs, he can only have found such treasures in N idud’s own hoard.

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made all kinds of rich treasures for the king; no man dared go to visit him, except the king alone. Volund said: ‘At Nidud’s belt I see the sword I whetted cunningly; I tempered the steel with all my skill, Most fair it seemed to me. ‘The shining blade is carried far, Forever far from me; It will not be brought to my forge again, That shall I never see. ‘Now Bodvild wears the red-gold ring Which to my bride belonged, And no amends are made to me. In payment for my wrong.’ He never rested, he never slept, Still would his hammer ring; He swiftly forged a crafty trick Against Nidud the king. Two young boys came to hunt the deer, Nidud’s sons were they, They came to hunt in Sævarstad, The isle where Volund lay. They came to where a great chest stood, Asked Volund for the key; When they glanced in, there was revealed Evil and enmity. Great was the harm within that chest, But to the brothers there It seemed all filled with red-gold rings, With treasures rich and fair. ‘Come here alone, tomorrow come, And yours shall this gold be; But tell no man and tell no maid You come to visit me.’ 32

V O L U N D T H E S MI TH

Early when the morrow came, Each one called the other: ‘Let us now go to see the rings’, Brother said to brother. They came to where the great chest stood, Asked Yolund for the key; When they looked in, there was revealed Evil and enmity. He struck off the heads of those two boys As they bent down to gaze, And under the pit of the anvil there He buried their bodies. The skulls where once their hair had grown He set in silver fine, And gave them both to King Nidud As goblets for his wine. He made bright jewels of their eyes, To the crafty queen he sent them; He made round brooches of their teeth, To Bodvild then he sent them. Bodvild boasted of her ring, But then it broke in two— ‘To no man dare I speak of this, Excepting only you.’ Volund said: ‘To your father the ring will seem more fair, So well will I mend the crack; To your mother finer, to you as good, As it was before it broke.’ He brought to her the strong brown ale, (His cunning was more deep) So that she sat in Volund’s seat And there she fell asleep. 33

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‘Now have I taken vengeance fit Upon my evil foes For all my wrongs, save only one, One only of my woes.’ 1 Then said Volund, the elvish lord: ‘Would that I had again The strength of those sinews cut from me By King Nidud’s m en!’ Volund rose up into the sky, And loud, loud laughed he; Bodvild went homeward from the isle, Weeping bitterly.* Nidud sat full of weariness, Close by the wall he sat, When the crafty queen came in the hall: ‘Lord, are you waking yet?’ ‘O always now I am awake, And all my joy is fled; Very seldom do I sleep Since my sons are dead. ‘Cold with ill-omen your counsels were; My heart grows cold with fear; Gladly I’d speak with Volund now, If Volund now were here. ‘Tell me, O Volund, O elvish lord, This I bid you tell: What has become of my two young boys, Who once were safe and well?’ 1 Volund feels particular hatred against Bodvild because she wore the ring he made for Hervor. * It is possible, though not certain, that a stanza has been lost here, which would have explained now Volund acquired the power of flight. The carving of the Franks Casket and the version o f the story given in a later Icelandic saga suggest that one o f Volund’s brothers brought him feathers from which he made himself wings. It has also been suggested that the ring stolen from Volund was a magical one, and that, having recovered it from Bodvild, he was now able to fly by its power.

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Volund said: ‘First you must swear these oaths to me: Swear by the ship’s side, By shield-rim, by sword-edge, by horse’s back, That you’ll not harm my bride. ‘ Swear that you will not slay my wife, Although you know her well, Although my son will here be bom, Here in your own hall. ‘Go to the forge which you had built, Go where the anvil stood, And you will find the bellows there Spattered all with blood. ‘I struck off the heads of your two boys As they bent down to gaze; And under the pit of the anvil there I buried their bodies. ‘The skulls where once their hair had grown I set in silver fine; To you I gave them, King Nidud, As goblets for your wine. ‘1 made bright jewels of their eyes, To the crafty queen I sent them; I made round brooches of their teeth. To Bodvild then I sent them.

c

‘Bodvild is walking homeward now, Homeward from the isle— The only daughter that you two have— Now she is with child.’ 35

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Nidud said: ‘Nothing which you could tell me now Could cause me greater woe; Nor could I wish you greater harm, O Volund, than I do. ‘No man can pull you down to earth, For no man is so tall; None strong enough to shoot the dart Which could make you fall From where you hover in the clouds, High above my hall.’ Volund rose up into the sky, And loud, loud laughed he; Nidud the king remained below, Grieving bitterly. Nidud said: ‘Rise, Thakkrad, best of serving-men, Bid my daughter Bodvild come, (Fair are her robes, her eyes are bright!) To speak with me alone. ‘Bodvild, my daughter, is this the truth, The tale I have heard tell, That you and Volund together lay, Out upon the isle?’ Bodvild said: ‘O Nidud the king, it is the truth, The tale you have heard tell, For Volund and I together lay, Out upon the isle. ‘That hour should never have come to pass, That hour of grief and pain; Against his strength I could not fight, My struggles were in vain.’ 36

Sigurd9s First Exploits (Extracts from Reginsmál, Fafnismál, and Sigrdrífumál. Poetic Edda) In youth the hero Sigurd the Volsung was fostered by a dwarf named Regin, wise, fierce, and a skilled magician. This dwarf had a grudge against his own brother Fafnir, who, in the shape o f a dragon, guarded a treasure o f which Regin claimed a half share. The original owner o f the treasure, a dwarf named Andvari, had laid a curse on it when it was taken from him by Odin, and had said it would bring death to all who owned it. Odin had given the gold to the father o f Regin and Fafnir, in payment fo r the death o f a third son o f his; thereupon Regin and Fafnir, filled with greed, killed their own father, and Fafnir took the gold and turned him self into a dragon. R e g in told Sigurd about all this. One day, as Sigurd came into Regin’s house, he was warmly welcomed. Regin said:

’Here to my hall comes Sigmund’s son, A hero keen in fight; More courage has he than an old man has; I think this bold wolf will bite. ‘I will foster this fierce young lord, This prince who now has come; Among all heroes he shall be The greatest beneath the sun, And far and wide among all the lands The threads of his life shall run.’ Sigurd then remained constantly with Regin, who told him that Fafnir was lying on Gnitaheid and was in the shape of a dragon. He owned a Helm of Terror, of which every living creature was afraid. Regin made for Sigurd a sword named Gram; it was so sharp that when he plunged it into the Rhine and let a tuft of wool

37

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float downstream, it cut the tuft in two like water. With this sword also, Sigurd cleft Regin’s anvil in two. After this, Regin urged Sigurd to kill Fafnir.

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Sigurd and Regin went up to Gnitaheid and there found the trail that Fafnir used to make when he crawled to the water. There Sigurd dug a large pit in the path and went down into it. But when Fafnir crawled down from the heap of gold, he was snorting out poison, and this ran down on to Sigurd’s head. But when Fafnir crawled across the pit, Sigurd struck at his heart with his sword. Fafnir shuddered and lashed out with head and tail. Sigurd jumped up out of the pit, and then each could see the other. Fafnir said: ‘Youth, O youth! Of whom, O youth, were you bom ? Of what man are you then the son? The bright blade you bear with my blood is red, To my heart your sword has come.’ Sigurd concealed his name, because it was a belief of theirs in the ancient times that the words of a dying man would have great power, if he should curse his enemy by name. So he said: ‘“ Noble Stag” is my name; I go on my way As does a motherless son; No father have I like the sons of men, Always I walk alone.’ Fafnir said: ‘If no father you have, like the sons of men, By what marvel were you bom ?’ Sigurd said: ‘ Mine is a race unknown to you, And I am unknown too; Sigmund my father, and Sigurd my name, And my sword has pierced you through.’ 38

S I G U R D ’ S FIRST EXPLOITS

Fafnir said: ‘Who roused you to this? Why were you urged To rob me of my life? Your father, O boy of the shining eyes, Was cruel and keen in strife.’ Sigurd said: *My own heart roused me, my own hands helped, And also my own sharp blade; No man will be bold when he grows old If in boyhood he is afraid.’ *

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Fafnir said: ‘You think all my words are words of hate, But I only tell you truth; This ringing gold, this fire-red wealth, These rings will be your death.’ Sigurd said: ‘But each man wishes to keep some wealth Until his dying day, For to every man the one day will come When to death he makes his way.’ *

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Fafnir said: ‘I advise you, Sigurd—and take my advice— Ride back to your own home; This ringing gold, this fire-red wealth, These rings shall be your doom.’ Sigurd said: ‘Your advice you give me, but I will ride To the gold that lies on the heath; You, Fafnir, shall lie here, fighting for life, Until you are seized by death.’ 39

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E G E N D A RY HEROES

Fafnir said: ‘Regin plotted my death and will plot yours too, The deaths of us both he will cause; Fafnir, it seems, must now lose his life, For the greater strength was yours.’ Now Regin had gone some way away while Sigurd was killing Fafnir, and he came back when Sigurd was wiping the blood from his sword. Regin said: ‘Hail to you, Sigurd! Victory is yours, And Fafnir, through you, is dead; You were born with less fear than any man Of all who on earth do tread.’ Sigurd said: ‘It is hard to tell, when all men meet, Who with least fear was born; Many are bold who have stained no blade In the breast of another man.’ Regin said: ‘You are glad now, Sigurd, this gain brings joy, As with grass you clean your blade; Death have you brought to my own brother, I too some part have played.’ Sigurd said: ‘It was your advice that had made me ride Over the high-topped mount; The bright snake still would have life and wealth, If I had not heard your taunt.’ Then Regin went up to Fafnir and cut the heart out of him with the sword called Ridil, and then he drank blood from the wound.

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S I G U R D ’ S FIRST EXPLOITS

Sigurd said: ‘You went far off, while with Fafnir’s blood My sharp blade I was dyeing; I was pitting my strength against dragon’s might, You in the heather were lying.’ Regin said: ‘That ancient ogre you would have left Longer in heather to lie, If you had not had the sharp sword I made, A blade on which to rely.’ Sigurd said: ‘The heart is worth more than the strength of blade To angry men who must fight; I’ve seen a brave man fight hard, and win, With a sword that would scarcely bite.’ Regin said: ‘Hold Fafnir’s heart to the fire, Sigurd; Sit there, and I will sleep. I mean to eat the whole heart soon— Of the blood I have drunk deep.’ So Sigurd took Fafnir’s heart and roasted it on a spit. When he thought it was thoroughly roasted, and the blood was frothing up out of the heart, he took it between his fingers and felt it, to see whether it was thoroughly roasted. He burnt his fingers, and put them in his mouth. But when Fafnir’s heart’s blood had touched his tongue, he was able to understand the language of birds. He heard some nuthatches chattering in the undergrowth. One nuthatch said: ‘There sits Sigurd, spattered with blood, Roasts Fafnir’s heart by the fire; If this lordly prince ate the glistening heart, His wisdom I would admire.’ 41

LAYS OF GODS A N D L E G E N D A RY HEROES

A second nuthatch said: ‘There lies Regin, weaving his plots To trap the trustful lad; He’ll twist crooked words, the spiteful wretch, To avenge his brother dead.’ The first one said: ‘Let the grey-haired wizard go down to hell, Lopped by the loss of his head; Then the other alone can keep all that gold Which under Fafnir was laid.’ A third nuthatch said: ‘If he would hear what we sisters say, His wisdom I would admire. Let him take heed, and make ravens glad! There never is smoke without fire!’ The first one said: ‘This pillar of battle would be less wise Than chieftains, I think, should be, If when he has taken one brother’s life He still lets the other go free.’ The second one said: ‘He is most unwise, if a dangerous foe He still intends to spare; There lies Regin, who plotted his death, And yet he will not beware.’ The first one said: ‘Let this frost-cold ogre forfeit the rings, Be lopped by loss of his head; Then the other alone shall possess the wealth Over which Fafnir kept guard.’ 42

S I G U R D ’ S FIRST EXPLOITS

Sigurd said: ‘No fate has decreed that Regin should live The news of my death to tell; Both these brothers, without delay, Shall go from here to hell.’ Sigurd cut off Regin’s head, and then he ate Fafnir’s heart and drank the blood of both Regin and Fafnir. Then Sigurd heard how the nuthatches were talking. The first one said: ‘Sigurd, bind up the red-gold rings; No king should ever fear. If you could win her, I know a maid Rich in gold, and most fair. ‘Green paths are leading to Gjuki’s hall, Pointing the destined way; The noble king has a daughter there Whose bride-price you can pay.’ 1 But the second nuthatch said: ‘On Hindarfjoll high there stands a hall All lapped about in flame, Which wise men built of the shining gold, Lamp of the river-god’s home. ‘I know on that crag a battle-maid sleeps, And round her the wild flames play; With a thorn Odin stabbed her, because she slew The hero he would not slay. ‘There the youth can gaze on this helmeted maid Who in battle once rode her steed, But he must not shatter Sigrdrifa’s sleep— So have the Fates decreed.’ 12*4 1 G u d ru n ; see below, p. 46. 2 Sigrdrifa means ‘Bestower o f V ictory’, an appropriate title for a val­ kyrie. She is usually thought to be identical with Brynhild, though not all versions o f Sigurd’s story make this clear.

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Sigurd rode along Fafnir’s trail to his lair, and found it open. The doors were of iron, and the door-frame too; of iron also were all the beams of the building, and it was dug down into the ground. There Sigurd found a great quantity of gold, and filled two chests with it. There he took the Helm of Terror, and a gold coat of mail, and the sword Hrotti, and many other precious treasures; and he loaded them on to Grani, but the horse would not move until Sigurd mounted him. Sigurd rode up on to Hindarfjoll, and turned south towards the land of the Franks. On the mountain he saw a great light, as if there was a fire burning, and the blaze rose up into the sky. But when he came to the spot, there stood a wall of shields, and a banner rising up from within it. Sigurd went within the wall of shields and saw that a man was lying there asleep with all his weapons. First Sigurd took off the helmet from the man’s head; then he saw it was a woman. The mailcoat was as firmly fixed as if it had grown into the flesh; then with Gram he slashed the mailcoat from the neckhole downwards, and out to both the arm­ holes. Then he took off the mailcoat from her—but she awoke and sat up, and saw Sigurd. And she said: ‘Why is my sleep shattered? What slashed my mail? Who struck from off me The fetters pale?’ Sigurd said: ‘It was Sigmund’s son, And Sigurd’s blade; Now ravens on corpses Their feast have made.’ Sigurd sat down and asked her her name. Then she took a horn full of mead and gave him a drink, so that he should remember her. She said: ‘Hail to you, day! Hail, sons of the day! Hail, night and the daughters of night! Look down on us here with friendly eyes, Give victory in the fight!

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S I G U R D A N D THE SONS OF GJ U KI

‘Hail, O you gods! Hail, goddesses all! Hail to the fruitful lands! Give wisdom and words to both of us here; While we live, give us healers’ hands! ‘Long did I slumber, long did I sleep, Long are the griefs of men; Odin made them, these drowsy spells That I could not break again.’ She said that her name was Sigrdrifa and that she was a val­ kyrie. She said that two kings had once fought; one was called Hjalmgunnar—he was an old man then, but a very great fighter, and Odin had promised him the victory. The other was called Agnar, brother of Auda, and no one was willing to help him. Sigrdrifa had killed Hjalmgunnar in the battle. But Odin had stabbed her with a sleep-thorn to revenge himself for this, and had said that she would never again win victory in battle, and had said that she would be given in marriage. ‘But I said to him that I would swear an oath in answer to this: that I would never be given in marriage to any man who knew the feeling of fear.’

Sigurd and the Sons of Gjuki (From the Prose Edda, by Snorri Sturluson, c. 1223) This extract begins with Snorri’s account o f the first meeting between Sigurd and Brynhild; it will be seen that this does not entirely tally with that o f the ‘SigrdrifumáV—see above, p. 44.

T hen Sigurd rode until he came to a house upon a mountain; inside there slept a woman, and she had on a helmet and a coat of mail. He drew his sword and cut the coat of mail from her. Then 45

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she awoke, and gave her name as Hild; she is called Brynhild,1 and is a valkyrie. Sigurd rode away from there, and came to the home of a king called Gjuki. His wife was called Grimhild; their children were Gunnar, Hogni, Gudrun, and Gudny; and there was also Gotthorm, a stepson of Gjuki. Sigurd remained there for a long while; there he married Gudrun, Gjuki’s daughter, and Gunnar and Hogni swore blood-brotherhood with Sigurd. The next thing was that Sigurd and the sons of Gjuki went to Atli Budlason to ask for the hand of his sister Brynhild to be Gunnar’s wife. She lived on Hindafjall, and there was flickering flame around her hall, and she had sworn an oath to marry only that man who would dare to ride through the flickering flame. Sigurd and the sons of Gjuki (who are also called the Niflungs) rode up on to that mountain, and Gunnar was then to ride through the flickering flame; he had a horse called Goti, and that horse did not dare leap the lire. Then Sigurd and Gunnar ex­ changed their outward shape and their names too, because Grani would not move when ridden by anyone but Sigurd; then Sigurd mounted Grani and rode through the flickering flame. That evening he and Brynhild held their wedding feast. But when they came to bed he drew the sword Gram from its sheath and laid it between them. In the morning, when he got up and dressed, he gave Brynhild as her bridal gift the gold ring which Loki had taken from Andvari,* and took another ring from her arm as a keepsake. Sigurd then mounted and rode back to his companions. He and Gunnar once more exchanged their outer shape, and went home to Gjuki, with Brynhild. Sigurd had two children by Gudrun, Sigmund and Svanhild. It happened on one occasion that Brynhild and Gudrun went down to the water to wash their hair. When they came to the river, Brynhild waded out into the river far from the bank, saying that she would not wet her head in water that had run through Gudrun’s hair, because it was her own husband who was the more valiant. Then Gudrun waded into the river after her, saying that she had the right to wash her hair higher upstream, because she had a husband of such valour that neither Gunnar nor anyone 1 ‘Hild o f the coat o f mail.’ 2 This was part o f the accursed treasure taken from Fafnir.

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else in the whole world was his equal, for he had killed Fafnir and Regin and inherited the wealth of them both. Then Brynhild answered: ‘What counts for more is that Gunnar rode through the flickering flame, but Sigurd did not dare to / Then Gudrun laughed and said: ‘Do you think Gunnar rode the flickering flame? I think that the man who went to bed with you is the one who gave me this gold ring; and the gold ring you wear on your arm and accepted as your bridal gift is called Andvari’s Gift—and I don’t think it was Gunnar who fetched it from Gnitaheid!’ Then Brynhild fell silent, and went home. After this she urged Gunnar and Hogni to kill Sigurd, and because they had sworn oaths to Sigurd they urged their halfbrother Gotthorm to kill Sigurd. Gotthorm drove a sword into Sigurd while he was asleep, but when he felt the wound he hurled the sword Gram at Gotthorm so that it cut the man in two at the waist. There Sigurd died, and so did his three-year-old son Sig­ mund, whom they killed.1After this, Brynhild ran herself through with a sword, and her body was burnt with Sigurd’s. And Gunnar and Hogni took the wealth inherited from Fafnir, and the ring Andvari’s Gift, and ruled over those lands.

The Death of Sigurd (Brot a f Sigurdarkvidu. Poetic Edda) The opening o f this poem is lost. It now begins with a dis­ cussion between the brothers Hogni and Gunnar, in which the latter urges that Sigurd, despite their oath o f friendship with Mm, should be killed. H o g n i said: ‘W hat crime has he done, that you should wish To take that brave man’s life?’ 1 O ther versions say th at Sigurd was killed when o u t hunting with Gunnar, Hogni, and G otthorm . Cf. below, p. 48.

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Gunnar said: ‘Sigurd swore me oaths, yes, oaths he swore, And each one was a lie; He tricked me, he who should be a man On whose oaths one can rely.’ 1 Hogni said: ‘Brynhild has roused you to evil ways, A sorry deed to do; She envies Gudrun her happy fate, And grudges herself to you.’ Some cooked a wolf, some slashed a snake, Some gave Gotthorm his part, Before they dared touch the warrior wise— Evil was in their heart. Slain was Sigurd, south of the Rhine. A raven called aloud: ‘The oaths will harm you, O men of war, Your blood be on Atli’s sword!’ Outside stood Gudrun, Gjuki’s child, And these first words she said: ‘Where now is Sigurd, the lord of men, If my kinsmen ride ahead?’ Hogni answered her: ‘Hacked apart Is Sigurd, by our sword; The grey horse stands with drooping head At the side of his dead lord.’ *

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Then Brynhild laughed once, with all her heart— The whole house rang again: ‘O you who have slain that valiant prince, Have joy of your lands and men!’ 1 B rynhild m ust have accused Sigurd o f sleeping w ith h er in G u n n a r’s shape.

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THE D EA TH OF S I G U R D

Then Gudrun, daughter of Gjuki, spoke: ‘Most wicked is all you say! May spirits of wrath seize Gunnar, He who did Sigurd slay! Vengeance shall fall on those whose hearts Are filled with enmity.’ Evening came on and all drank deep, And friendly words each spoke; All then slept, save only one— Gunnar was long awake. He tossed and muttered, and much he thought Of what those two did say, The raven and eagle on the bough, As he rode his homeward way. Brynhild the warrior maid awoke A little before the day: ‘Whether you help me or hold me back, My grief must have its say; Sorrow has come, and I must speak, Or my life will pass away.’ Then all were silent at such a speech, Not knowing a woman’s wiles— That she will weep when she has the boon For which she begged with smiles. ‘O Gunnar, I dreamt a grisly dream: Cold was all my bed, Chill was the hall, and you rode forth, And all your joy had fled. ‘You rode with fetters upon your feet Among a troop of foes; Thus all the might of your race shall fail, All you who broke your oaths! 49

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‘Now you forget that your blood and his Was mingled in friendship’s vow; He would have made you the lord of men, But falsely you’ve paid him now! ‘When boldly he rode to win my hand He proved that he was true; The slayer of hosts kept every oath Which he made, King Gunnar, to you. ‘His deadly sword twisted round with gold Between us both he laid; Its outer edges were forged with fire, And poison streaked its blade.’

Gudrun9s Lament (Guðrúnarkvida I. Poetic Edda) was near to death for grief, As she sat by Sigurd’s side; She did not weep or wring her hands, As other women did.

G udrun

The wisest chieftains came to her, To rouse her from her woe; But Gudrun, grieving, could not weep; Her heart must break in two. Gold-decked ladies came to her, Wives of great lords were there, And each one told her own worst grief, The bitterest to bear. 50

g u d r u n ’s l a m e n t

‘No woman on earth has less joy than I ’, Said Gjaflaug to Gudrun then; ‘Dead my five husbands, my brothers eight, And still I live, alone.’ But Gudrun, grieving, could not weep, Her sorrow was so great, So harsh her grief for a husband dead Whose corpse was at her feet. ‘ More bitter the grief I have to tell ’, Said Herborg, Queen of Huns; ‘My husband slain in a southern land, And slain my seven sons. ‘Alone I laid out their bodies cold, Adorned them fittingly; Alone I laid them in burial mounds, With none to comfort me. ‘ My father and mother then were drowned, And all in that one year; Storm-waves beat on the bulwark side— Four brothers I lost there. ‘Then was I fated to be a slave, Before that year was gone; Each day I bedecked a prince’s wife, Her shoes I must bind on. ‘She threatened me in jealousy, Hard blows she gave to me; I never found a kinder lord, Never a worse lady.’ But Gudrun, grieving, could not weep, Her sorrow was so great, So harsh her grief for a husband dead Whose corpse was at her feet. 51

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‘O foster-mother, though you are wise’, Said Gollrond to Herborg then, ‘Your words cannot comfort a wife who sits Beside her husband slain.’ She snatched the shroud from Sigurd’s corpse. ‘Look on your love’, she said, ‘Put your arms around him, kiss his lips, As though he were not dead.’ Gudrun looked down, she looked but once, Saw his hair all wet with blood, His shining eyes were now grown dim, His breast gashed by the sword. Gudrun sank down upon the bier, Her hair fell loose and free, Her cheek flushed red, and tears like rain Ran trickling down her knee. Gudrun, daughter of Gjuki, wept Till tears ran through her locks; The geese in the courtyard screamed aloud, The noble birds of her flocks. ‘Well do I know, O sister mine’, Said Gollrond to Gudrun then, ‘The love with which you two have loved Was the greatest among men. ‘In field or hall, in all your life, You knew no joy but one: To pass your days at Sigurd’s side, No joy if he were gone.’ ‘My Sigurd surpassed all Gjuki’s sons’, Said the lady Gudrun then, ‘As garlic springs high above the grass, So he above other men. 52

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‘As a shining jewel upon a ring, Such glory was in him; As a glittering gem by other men, The bright beside the dim. ‘In the eyes of his men I was loftier Than Odin’s warrior-maid; Less am I now than a leaf on a tree, Since Sigurd my lord is dead. ‘On the ale-bench now I miss my friend, I miss him from my bed; And Gjuki’s sons, my brothers three, The guilt is on their head. ‘For Gjuki’s sons, my brothers three, Are guilty of my woe; Bitter sorrow they bring to their sister now, Bitter her tears must flow. ‘You have slain the one man in this land, O Gunnar, my brother born, And broken the oaths of friendship Which Sigurd and you had sworn. ‘No joy will you get of the golden rings For which you broke your faith; The oaths you have sworn are broken; That gold will be your death. ‘Greater the joy this house once saw When Sigurd saddled steed, And rode a-wooing with Gunnar— No luck came of that deed! ‘Luckless the hour my Sigurd rode, With Gunnar at his side, To woo Brynhild, that evil one, And make her Gunnar’s bride.’ 53

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‘May that wretch never have a husband or child’, Said the lady Brynhild then, ‘Who loosened the bond on your tongue, Gudrun, And made you weep again!’ ‘Be silent, be silent’, said Gollrond then, ‘O you whom all men hate! Evil you are, and to every man You bring an evil fate. ‘Bitter sorrow you brought to seven kings, A dark fate drives you on; Many a woman is friendless now, Because of you alone.’ Then said the lady Brynhild: ‘ My brother, Budli’s son, Bears all the guilt for this great harm— He, King Atli the Hun. ‘Together we gazed, in the hall of Huns, On gold that shone like fire, The gold that gleamed on Sigurd’s hand, The gold of the dragon’s lair. ‘But since then I have paid a price For the journey Sigurd made, And all that followed from that sight Has filled my heart with dread.’ She stood in her strength by the pillar, With blazing eyes she stood; Deadly venom was Brynhild’s breath, As she gazed on Sigurd’s wound.

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The Lay of Atli (Atlakvida. Poetic Edda)

After the death o f Sigurd his hoard ofgold passed to Gunnar and Hogni. A quarrel arose between these two and A tli (Attila) the Hun, and to heal it they gave their sister Gudrun, Sigurd's widow, in marriage to Atli. After she had been his wife fo r some years and had borne him two sons, he plotted to win the gold o f Gunnar and Hogni. Bracketed passages in the translation are conjectural, the manuscript having several apparent omissions. A tli once sent the cunning lord Whom men did Knefrœd call, To ride till he came to Gjuki’s lands And to Gunnar’s hall, Where benches stood about the hearth, Where men drank the fine ale. The heroes dreaded the wrath of Huns, Drinking wine in Gunnar’s hall, But the crafty Huns hid well their hate And spoke no word at all. Then cunning Knefroed spoke aloud— His voice was false and cold; On the high bench he sat and spoke; This the southern warrior told: ‘Atli has sent me riding here To bear the words he says; He bade me ride my champing steed Through Mirkwood’s unknown ways. 55

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‘He bids you come to his hall and bench, Bids Gunnar and Hogni come, With warriors helmed from your own hearth, To visit Atli’s home. ‘There you can choose fine shields as gifts, Spears of the smooth ash-wood, Red-gold helmets and many swords, And shirts as red as blood. ‘You can choose horses that champ the bit, Saddles of cloth-of-gold; You can choose lances and deadly darts, Fittest for men so bold. ‘You will be given broad Gnitaheid, Field of the dragon’s lair, And gilded prows, and spears that fly Screaming through the air. ‘You’ll have the land where Dnieper flows, Treasures great and good, And all the famous forest wide Which men call dark Mirkwood.’ Then up and spoke the king Gunnar, To Hogni turned his head: ‘What is your counsel, young warrior, When we hear such things are said? ‘I never heard that on Gnitaheid Such wealth in gold lay stored That we could find no match for it In gold from our own hoard. ‘The swords we own fill seven halls, Each hilt is gold inlaid; I know that mine’s the finest horse, And mine the keenest blade. 56

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*My curving bows adorn my bench, My mailcoats are of gold; Brightest of all my helm and shield, Heirlooms from kings of old.’

Hogni said: ‘What do you think our sister meant In sending us this ring, With the hair of a wolf tied round about? I think she sends warning. ‘I found the hair of a moorland wolf Twisted about the ring; Our path would lead us to wolfish hate In such a journeying.’ None of their neighbours, none of their kin Would urge them on that road— None of their friends, no counsellor, Nor any powerful lord. Then Gunnar in his glory spoke, Spoke as a great king should, There in the hall where men drank ale, And angry was his mood. ‘Rise up, rise up now, Fjornir! Bear goblets through the hall, A golden cup to each man’s hand, That each may drink his ale! [‘Bring us the finest ale to drink In goblets wide and deep, For this may be the latest feast That we shall ever keep.] 57

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4Old grey-felled wolves will take the wealth The Niflung race did gain, And black-furred bears will tear and bite If Gunnar should be slain; Great joy will it be to a pack of dogs If Gunnar come not again.’ True warriors watched while Gunnar rode, While Hogni rode away; They led their lord out from his home, All grieving bitterly. Then up and spoke a young, young lad, Hogni’s son was he: ‘Safely and wisely go your ways, Wherever you long to be!’ In haste the warriors spurred their steeds Across the mountains grey, And hard they rode their champing steeds Through Mirkwood’s unknown way. All Hunland shook as they rode by, Two warriors stem and keen; They urged their steeds with whip and spur Through fields all fresh and green. They saw the lands that Atli ruled, They saw the watch-towers tall, They saw the warriors standing there High on the castle wall. They saw the hall of the southern men With benches all around; They saw the lances and deadly darts, White shields with rims well bound. There Atli in his hall drank wine; Outside, the men stood guard With screaming spears, lest Gunnar come In war against their lord.

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Their sister was the first they met As they came in the hall; Swiftly she went to her brothers both, And she had drunk no ale: ‘ O Gunnar, they plot against your life, And how can your strength prevail Against the evil tricks of the Huns? Flee swiftly from this hall! ‘O brother, far better it would have been In mailcoat to have come With warriors helmed from your own hearth, To visit Atli’s home. ‘If you could fight through the sun-bright day, Mounted upon your steed, Then evil women would have to weep Over their own pale dead, And Hunnish warrior-maids would learn Behind the plough to tread. ‘Then Atli himself you would cast down In the serpent-pit to lie; Now it is fated that you yourself In the serpent-pit shall die.’ Gunnar said: ‘Too late is it now to summon the hosts Of the Niflungs, sister mine; Too far to send for the fearless men Of the red crags of the Rhine.’ Then did they seize Gunnar the king, The lord of Burgundy, And laid him down in bonds and chains, Fettered him firmly. 59

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But Hogni slew there seven men With sword-blade keen and bright; An eighth he thrust in the hearth-fire— So should a brave man fight! [But Hogni too they seized and bound. They went where Gunnar lay,] They asked the king if, to buy his life, His gold he would give away. ‘First you must bring me Hogni’s heart And lay it in my hand, All bloody and cut with keen-edged knife From the breast of that fearless man.’ They cut the heart from Hjalli’s breast— Hjalli, a serving-man— All bloody they laid it in a bowl, Brought it to Gunnar’s hand. Then said Gunnar, the lord of men: ‘Here now the heart I hold Of Hjalli the serf, unlike the heart Of Hogni, ever bold. ‘For here it trembles mightily, In the bowl at rest; Far more it trembled when it lay In a coward’s breast.’ Then Hogni laughed as they cut the heart From him, a living man; Never was he, the dealer of wounds, By any tears unmanned; All bloody they laid it in a bowl, Brought it to Gunnar’s hand. Then said Gunnar, the Niflung lord: ‘Here now the heart I hold Of Hogni the hero, unlike the heart Of Hjalli, in serfdom sold.

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‘ For here it trembles not at all, In the bowl at rest; Far less it trembled when it lay In a hero’s breast. ‘Never, O Atli, shall you come near The gems of the Niflung store; No man but I knows where it lies, Now Hogni lives no more. ‘Always my heart was full of doubt While we were two to live, But now no doubt is left in me When I alone do live. ‘The rapid Rhine shall keep the gold, Metal of strife to man, The gold which once the high gods had And the Niflung race then won. ‘The rings shall gleam in the rolling stream, The rings from foreign lands, Rather than ever the gold should shine On Hunnish warriors’ hands!’ [Then said Atli, the lord of Huns: ‘In the snake-pit Gunnar dies!] Bring the great wagon to drive him there In fetters, as now he lies.’ Then out rode Atli, the mighty king, On Glaum of the flowing mane— Around him warriors with deadly blades— To see his wife’s brother slain. Gudrun was harsh as the conquering gods, And never a tear she shed; Gudrun strode through the echoing hall, And all her joy had fled:

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‘O Atli, may fate play false with you, For falsely your oaths you hold— The oaths you have often said and sworn To Gunnar in days of old! ‘ For you have sworn by the midday sun, By Odin’s holy hill, By the bed of rest, by the ring of Ull, Never to treat him ill.’ But bridled horses drew Gunnar forth, The guardian of great wealth, The warrior once so fierce in fight, Down to the place of death. In the pit where twisting serpents crawl They laid the living king; Alone fierce Gunnar struck his harp, And loudly rang the string. So should a rich prince from every foe Guard well his golden ring. Then Atli spurred his good steed on, Trampling across the plain; Back he rode from the foul murder, Back to his halls again. Loud was the trampling of many steeds In the courtyard by the door, Loud the clashing of warriors’ arms, Returning from the moor. Then out came Gudrun to meet Atli, With a goblet of gold so red; Gifts she bore for the Hunnish king, And these were the words she said: ‘Take now gladly what Gudrun gives, O king, in your own hall; Eat of the flesh of two young beasts Slaughtered and sent to hell.’

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Loud rang the cups of Atli the king, Heavy with wine and ale; Greybeard warriors gathered there, Huns talked in the hall. Then in came Gudrun, fair of face, To serve fine food and ale; She mocked and jeered at the Hunnish king, And Atli’s face grew pale: ‘O lavish giver of swords to men, Those hearts in honey stewed Were the bloody hearts of your own two sons, And those hearts you have chewed. ‘You stomached the flesh of slaughtered boys With your fine food and ale, You carved that meat from your own high-seat And sent it through the hall. ‘You’ll never call Erp or Eitil again To stand before your knee, N or see them merry at ale-drinking, For that shall never be. ‘You shall not see them upon the bench Make spears for battle-play, N or spur fine steeds and comb their manes, Nor give bright gold away.’ Groaning and clamour filled the hall, And wailing for the dead; But Gudrun wept not, though warriors wept— Never a tear she shed For her brothers fierce, or the dear-loved sons That she and Atli had. Gudrun, fair as the white sea-birds, Scattered the shining gold, Gave red-gold rings to every man Within the king’s household. 63

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Gudrun, the child of a noble race, Let fate to fulness grow; Boldly she robbed the house of the gods And let the bright gold go. Unwary and reckless did Atli drink Till all his wits had fled; He had no weapon, felt no fear, Called Gudrun to his bed. Often in Atli’s royal hall There had been gladder play, When gently in each other’s arms The king and Gudrun lay. Her sword drew blood for the bed to drink, Her hand was keen to kill; She let the rapid hounds run free Through the doorway of the hall, But she woke the men with fire and flames To pay for her brothers’ fall. All those who yet were in the hall She gave to the flames to slay— All those who from Gunnar’s murder rode Homeward by Mirkwood way. Smoke rose high from the house of the gods, Age-old timbers fall; The Hunnish warrior-maids were burnt, Burnt was the Budlungs’ hall. The tale is told; no woman armed Will do such deeds again; Three chieftains she slew before she died, To avenge her brothers slain.

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BIOGRAPHY, CHRONICLE AND SEMI-HISTORICAL NARRATIVE

Bishop Jon Ogmundarson (Extracts from Jóns saga helga, by the monk Gunnlaug Leifsson, written in Latin c. 1205 and preserved in Icelandic versions of the mid thirteenth century, chs. 9-13, 15-16, 23-24, 27.) Jon was Bishop o f Northern Iceland 1106-21; he was later regarded as a saint, and the saga concerning him contains many accounts o f his miraculous deeds, as well as a description o f the customs and the state o f learning in his days. I

this the blessed Jon travelled northwards from Denmark by the good and gracious permission of King Svein, making his way to Norway and so northwards to Thrandheim, intending piously to visit the holy relics of the blessed King Olaf, God’s martyr and witness. At that time there ruled over Norway King Magnus the Good, son of King Olaf, who was nicknamed Magnus Bareleg and was the grandson of Harald Sigurdarson.1 At that time the king was residing in Thrandheim. There were many Icelandic men there—Teit, the son of Bishop Isleif, and many other powerful men from Iceland—and something of importance had happened there, for an Icelandic man called A fter

1 Magnus Bareleg reigned 1093-1103, and is not identical with Magnus the G ood, 1035-47; the Olaf whose son he is is O laf the Quiet, not O laf the Saint. The nickname ‘Bareleg’ refers to M agnus’ liking for wearing kilts— a taste which he acquired in his youth in the Western Isles.

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Gisl had killed one of King Magnus’s courtiers, called Gjafvald. But the aforementioned Gisl had been driven to do the deed because Gjafvald had killed Illugi, his father, out in Iceland, at a time when Gisl was only a child. Now the story must begin at the point when, shortly after the slaying of Gjafvald, Gisl was seized, fettered, and cast into a dun­ geon. When all the Icelanders, who had been at prayers, learnt about this, they went without delay to the dungeon in which Gisl sat, and he had been treated roughly. When Teit, the bishop’s son, who was their leader, came to the door of the cell, and three hundred men of Iceland with him, they smashed the door in, and it broke with a loud crash. Gisl started up at the sound, and then for the first time he saw those men. But before they came, Gisl had been told that it was the king’s men who were coming, and he had then made this verse: ’Still I’m gay, though stalwart men, Whose swords are keen, are meaning To rob my life. The rub of Rough irons hurts my feet. Die must each man, damsel, yet A dauntless heart I ’m granted. Manfully I call to mind Once more my gallant valour.’ Teit struck the fetters off him and took him under his protec­ tion, and then they went to the assembly platform. Then Audun, the chief among the king’s retainers, came to meet them, intending to take Gisl. Then Audun said: ‘You haven’t wasted much time this time, Icelanders, and I suppose you mean to pass judgment on this man yourselves, not the king. It would indeed be best that you should give less provocation than you did this morning; and King Magnus has grown angry over smaller matters than the rescuing of condemned men by force by Icelanders.’ Teit answered: ‘Be quiet, man, or you’ll get knocked about.’ At these words Audun had to leave. Now when the assembly had gathered, Sigurd Woolstring stood up and said: ‘I think that most of the people who have come here must know that our messmate Gjafvald has been slain; a man came out from Iceland who thought he had a grudge

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against him, and what he then did about it was that he at once gave him his death-blow, but did not try to obtain compensation, as is the custom among other men. To us, the king’s men, it will seem as if there is little objection to killing the courtiers, if no vengeance is to be taken for this. Now it may well be that they will let all this go to their heads and will have no more respect for a king than for other men. But such outrageous deeds deserve great and mighty vengeance, and indeed it would hardly make amends even if ten Icelanders were slain for one Norwegian and if they were thus punished for their boldness in taking a man away from the king’s authority.’ After this he was silent. Then Teit, the bishop’s son, stood up and said: ‘Will my lord the king give me permission to speak?’ The king asked the man who stood next to him: ‘Who is asking to speak?’ ‘Sire’, said he, ‘Teit, the bishop’s son.’ The king said loudly: ‘ We certainly will not allow you to speak, for every word which you speak would add to the evil; and it would be richly deserved if your tongue was cut out of your head.’ Many of the Icelanders asked for a chance and permission to speak, and none obtained it. Thereupon Jon the priest stood up and said: ‘Will my lord the king allow me to say what I have to say?’ The king asked: ‘Who is speaking now?’ He was told that it was Jon the priest who asked permission. The king said: ‘We are willing to give you leave.’ Then the holy Jon thus began his discourse: ‘It is thanks to Our Lord Jesus Christ that these lands, Norway and Iceland, are Christian, whereas formerly men and devils all walked together. The devil does not now walk so openly in the sight of men, but yet he does find men to follow his ways and do his accursed errands; there is no need to go far to remember how the devil spoke through the mouth of the man who spoke first, saying: “ Now one of the king’s men has been slain, but it would be richly deserved if ten Icelanders were slain for one Norwegian.” But consider, my good lord, that we Icelanders are just as much your men as those who are here in this country;1 and I think that it is 1 A markedly ecclesiastical interpretation; twelfth-century Icelanders were not in fact subjects o f the kings o f N orw ay.

D

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such men who do most to set the devil himself free by their wicked speeches. You who have been placed as a chieftain in this world and as a judge over the people, you who are a prefiguration of that Judge who will come at doomsday to judge the whole world, each according to his deserts, you should take heed that you judge just judgments; for a t every judgment and every assembly Almighty God comes with His saints and seeks out good men and good judgments, and the devil and his angels come too, seeking out the deeds of evil men and wrong judgments, and at the last there will come that Judge, when justice will appear. Consider, sire, which fire will be the hotter: that which is kindled in an oak stump and laid in an oven, or that which is kindled in dry twigs. It will indeed come to pass, my lord and king, that if you judge wrong judgments you will be cast into the fire that is kindled in an oak stump. But if there is justice in your judgments, O king, then it can be expected that you will be cleansed in the fire of Purgatory, which is made of dry twigs.’ The king said: ‘You have said great things now, priest; but still in the end this man’s fate is to have the worst of deaths, as he has deserved.’ The king was extremely angry and told Audun, the chief retainer, to fetch Gisl in spite of Teit and his troop and spare no one who would try to prevent it. Now since Audun was filled with fury and many men were egging him on, he was quick to do this and had no lack of men with him, but the Icelanders on the other hand prepared to make their defence and were resolved to defend Gisl as long as they could still breathe and stand. But when Audun and his company came up to where the Ice­ landers were, Gisl ran out towards the king’s men and said: ‘It must never be that so many good and valiant men should be destroyed here for my sake, for I shall die in any case, whether now or later. And for G od’s sake’, said he, speaking to his com­ panions, ‘take care of yourselves as best you can; everyone can now see your valour, that you would all choose to die rather than hand me over into my enemies’ power; and have my best thanks for your generosity.’ Now Audun and his men took Gisl, and they were pleased that the Icelanders should have no joy of this; nevertheless the latter did not pursue them, because it would not have been wise to go against the great numbers of the king’s men, and because the king

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himself was there. Audun now went in great haste to order that a high gallows should be built there at the assembly place, and he thought that thus he could take the most impressive vengeance for his messmate Gjafvald and do the greatest dishonour to Gisl and to all those who had wished to help him, and that all those who took the matter to heart would have to bear this great trial of their patience—and the foremost of these was the holy priest Jon, who brought good to them all, as can be learnt from this anecdote when all is ended. Now when the holy Jon saw the king’s men leading Gisl to the gallows, he stood up and said to the king: ‘ My lord and king, will you give me leave to do whatever I like with the cloak you gave me this winter?’ The king looked at him rather angrily, realizing what he meant to do with it, but said all the same: ‘Do what you like with it— but think well how many kingly gifts you will receive in future, if that’s how you look after this one.’ The holy Jon said he did not care about that, and at once went to where they were milling round Gisl and wrapped the cloak, the king’s gift, around him. Then Audun, the chief retainer, said: ‘Nothing can win quarter for this suet-lander; we’ll see whether he’ll hang less well on the gallows for this.’ And thereupon they strung Gisl up like a thief and arranged everything in the most dishonourable way possible, except that he was hanged in a cloak which was a king’s gift. The holy priest Jon then went away with tears of compassion and went to the church, where he stayed for the rest of the day. After this the assembly broke up, and the king went to his hall and the courtiers with him; and it is said that the king, shortly after this event had happened, deeply regretted in his heart that he had not set more value on the words of Jon the priest—though men could not see much sign of that in his looks. In Norway at that time it was the law concerning men who had been hanged that they were to remain hanging till they dropped to pieces. Now learned men relate that when the next Wednesday came, the holy priest Jon went from the church with eight other men to where Gisl was hanging on the gallows, and said that he wanted to fetch his cloak. The holy Jon went three times sunwise round the gallows, and then he three times fell to his knees and 69

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prayed, and when he stood up he ordered that the halter should be cut above his head. They did so. Then a wondrous thing hap­ pened—when Gisl fell from above, he landed upright on the ground. Then the holy Jon went up to him, took the cloak off him, and greeted him by name; and Gisl answered him cheerfully and tried to walk towards him, but could not. Jon the priest asked how things were with him. Gisl answered: ‘The most I can say is that ever since you put your cloak round me I felt as if I was sitting in comfort, except that my feet, which stuck out under the cloak, have stiffened up on me, and so I can’t walk yet.’ Then they all gave praise to Almighty God for these sublime marvels, as was only right, when He had preserved this man’s life because of the prayers and merits of His dear friend the holy Jon, and when the man had hung from the Monday to the Wednesday in the cruel noose of a thief and yet had kept his life, as has been said. But yet there are some books that say that this aforemen­ tioned Gisl never was hanged, but received quarter and a full settlement, together with all the Icelanders who took part in the rash deeds here spoken of, through the assistance and pleadings of the holy Jon. After this, Jon the priest rubbed his hands over Gisl’s feet until he recovered the power of walking and went with them.

n Nothing is more fitting than to say yet more than has been said already about the great help which Icelanders had from the holy Jon, both abroad and at home. As a particular example o f this, we will tell how he coaxed Sæmund Sigfusson back here to Ice­ land with him—Sæmund, the man who had been one of the most useful to G od’s Christendom in Iceland, and had been long in foreign lands without there being any news of him.1 But the holy Jon got news of him, that he was with a certain outstanding 1 Sæ m und S igfusson th e L earned lived 1056-1133; h e stu d ied in F ra n c e fo r som e years, a n d late r becam e a p ro m in en t sch o lar a n d h isto rian . H e helped to in tro d u ce an d codify th e tith e system in Iceland. F o lk -tra d itio n so o n gave him th e re p u ta tio n o f a n astro lo g er an d w izard.

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magister, there acquiring such unknown wisdom that he had abandoned everything that he had learnt in his youth, even his baptismal name. When the holy Jon came to where he was, each asked the other his name; the holy Jon gave his own name, but Sæmund said his name was Kol. Jon answered, by the gift of the Holy Ghost and his own great powers of recognition: *1 think that your name is Sæmund, and that you are Sigfus’s son and were bom in Iceland on the farm which is called Oddi.’ The holy Jon spoke so persuasively to him that he recognized who he was and his family. Sæmund said: ‘It may be that what you say is true, and if it is, then in the homefield at Oddi there must be a certain hillock on which I always used to play.’ And after this they fully recognized one another. Then the holy Jon said: ‘Aren’t you eager to get away from here?’ Sæmund answered: ‘I feel happy to be with my magister, but yet, since hearing your words and seeing you, it seemed to me that the man who follows you and never parts from you will have the better fate; yet I could see no plan that would enable me to follow you, for my magister will not on any account give me leave to go.’ The holy Jon said: ‘We will both set our minds to that, and I will stay here for a while, We will make use of every hour that we can talk together, by night as much as by day. Now if your magister loves you dearly, he will seek us out if we are alone together, and then he will grow used to it and not think it sus­ picious if it often happens. But if he ceases to seek us out, then we must make our escape as quickly as possible.’ Sæmund said: ‘This is a wise plan which you propose, and this will be the foundation of our scheme. But we will be up against a wise man in dealing with my magister, for he will watch our journey as soon as he looks at the heavenly bodies in clear weather, since he knows astronomy (that is, star-knowledge) so well that he can recognize every man’s own star when he sees it and looks at it for a while.’ Now after making this scheme Sæmund brought Jon to meet his magister, who welcomed him very kindly. Jon stayed there for some while, until one night they made their escape. The weather

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was overcast, and they travelled all that night and the next day. But when the magister missed them, a search was made for them and they were not found. But on the second night, all the heavenly bodies could be seen. The magister at once saw what course they were following and set out after them with all speed. Sæmund looked up into the sky and said: ‘My magister has set out on his way, and can see what course we follow.’ Jon said: ‘W hat’s to be done now ?’ Sæmund said: ‘There is something to be done, and quickly. Take the shoes off my feet and fill them with water and put them on my head.’ He did so. Now, to speak of the man of learning: he looked up into the sky and said: ‘Bad news! Jon, the foreigner, has drowned my foster-son Kol, for there is water round his star.’ And after this he went home. But Jon and Sæmund went on their way that night and the next day. Now, to speak again of the man of learning: on the next night after this he interpreted the heavenly bodies and saw Sæmund’s star travelling above him as above a living man, and set out after him and Jon. Sæmund said: ‘Once again the star-magister is on his way, and again we need a plan against him. Take the shoes off my feet and my knife from its sheath, and cut the calf of my leg, and fill the shoes with blood and put them on the crown of my head.’ Jon did so. Then the magister caught sight of Sæmund’s star again and said: ‘There is blood now round the star of magister Kol, and now it is certain that this foreigner has done away with him ’, and therefore he turned back. But Sæmund and the holy Jon went further on their way. Now to speak of him once more: when this learned magister came home he put his art to the test yet again and saw Sæmund’s star once more, and said: ‘My pupil Kol is still alive, which is a great thing. But I’ve taught him quite enough, for now he outdoes me in star-knowledge and in his cunning. They are now safe and well, for I cannot succeed in opposing their departure; much must

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have been granted to this Jon, and men will win long-lasting benefits from his good luck.’ But Jon and Sæmund went on their way, and things went well and smoothly for them.

m When the holy Jon had been bishop for some short while, he had a school built there on the lands of the See, to the west of the church door; he had it built well and carefully, such as we have seen it with our own eyes—so says Brother Gunnlaug, who has composed this saga in Latin. In order to guide the clerics and teach them, the holy Jon chose a certain most honourable young man, of good book-learning, and a most eloquent interpreter of Holy Writ, whose name was Gisli Finnsson; Bishop Jon had brought him back with him from Sweden, and gave him ample and honourable payment for his labour. He had charge of the school for many years and taught Latin well and thoroughly to the clerics, and he, together with the bishop, did much to uphold God’s Christendom by his teaching and preaching. When Master Gisli preached the word of God to the people on feast-days, he did not speak much extempore, nor did he trust much to his memory, but he would rather expound the writings of the Fathers of the Church, from a book which lay before him on the lectern. This wise and very far-sighted man did this chiefly on account of humility, so that, since he was a young man, those who listened would think it of more value if they saw that he took his teaching from holy and noteworthy books, and not from his own mental powers and wisdom. *

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The blessed Bishop Jon also filed away with a keen file of bitter chastisement at all the evil customs, the witchcraft and wizardry, the charms and enchantments and all the sorceries that trick the sight, and made a stand with might and main against all the evil ancient ways; for there used still to be in Christendom great and evil remnants of heathen ways, which had not been rooted out of

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G od’s field while Christianity was young. He strictly forbade all the superstitions which the men of old had based on the coining of the new moon or of certain days; nor were they to name days after heathen sages,1 as by calling them Tysday, Odinsday, Thorsday, and so on for all the days of the week, but he ordered them to use the way of reckoning which the Holy Father had set down in his writings, calling them ‘the second day of the week’, ‘the third day’, and so on. There was a game which had been very dear to the people before the holy Jon became bishop, which was that men should, while dancing, recite amorous and obscene poems to the women, and the women love-verses to the men. This game he declared must be stopped, and he forbade it strictly; he would not allow love-verses to be listened to or recited, but yet he did not succeed in abolishing them entirely. It is said that on one occasion the holy Bishop Jon came in where a certain cleric, whose name was Klæng Thorsteinsson and who later became Bishop of Skalaholt, was reading that book of poetry which is called Ovid on the A rt o f Love. In this book Master Ovid speaks of the love of women and teaches the ways in which men are to seduce them and obtain what they desire. When the blessed Jon saw and understood what he was reading, he forbade him to listen to a book of this kind, and said that man’s frail nature was already eager enough for a life of lust and fleshly loves, even if one did not excite one’s mind with filthy and sinful Latin writings.

Many men of godly life came to settle at the See, giving so much wealth to it that by this means it was well kept up. And some, both men and women, moved there in order to listen to the helpful teachings of the lord bishop and the singing of the holy services, and they built themselves houses to lodge in all round the church­ yard. The holy Bishop Jon took many men for instruction, and found for them a good teacher to teach Latin grammar—Gisli the 1 T h e divinity o f old G erm an ic gods such as T y r, O d in , o r T h o r w as often denied by th e scholars o f C hristian Iceland, w ho preferred to lo o k o n them as an ancient dynasty o f very wise kings and m agicians.

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Swede, who has been mentioned already. But it was a French­ man, an honourable priest called Rikini, his own chaplain, whom he found to teach singing and verse-making. He could compose well in Latin and make verses too, and he was so accurate in his singing and had so good a memory that without any book he knew all the songs for a twelvemonth, both for the services during the day and for matins, faultlessly set to music and with their own tunes. Therefore the children of many worthy men were entrusted to these two teachers, some to learn Latin and others singing, or both, each striving according to his capacity to fill the wicker basket of his heart with the crumbled bread of wisdom which their fatherly instructors broke up as spiritual food for them, as a result of which we saw the blossoming field of the Divine mercy sending up sweet savours far and wide. Rikini the priest welcomed them all with the good cheer and graciousness of the holy Jon himself, and loved them as his own sons, nourishing and fostering them under his care and protection, and guarding them under his wings as a bird does her chicks. Here one might see, in every house of the bishop’s See, much activity and many occupations. Some were reading Holy Writ, some singing, some learning, some teaching. There was no envy among them nor discord, no aggressiveness nor wrangling, but each wished the other to rank higher than himself. There each one gave reverence to the other, and as soon as the signal for a service was given they would all hasten at once from their cells to the church, bringing with them, like thrifty bees to the beehive of the Holy Church, the sweet honey which they had gathered from the delightful wine-cellar of Holy Writ. At the commencement of the service there would arise in the church the beautiful harmony of song from the choir, and there would arise the sweet sound of voices. No one went there with loose talk or chattering. The older men and those of higher rank showed steadfastness and devout attention; the younger men were controlled and well trained under the guidance of the older ones, and thus both perfectly fulfilled their offices. With such brightness did the countenance of Holy Christendom shine in the days of this holy bishop! All the most honourable clerics of the Northern Quarter whom our age can remember spent some time in study at Holar, says brother Gunnlaug—some from childhood, some as full-grown *D 75

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men. Many of these pupils of the teachers mentioned above have died in our own days. But one of them was Isleif Hallsson, whom Bishop Jon wished should be bishop after him and the support of his bishopric if he should grow weary with old age, but he died before the lord bishop. But if I am to name certain of these afore­ mentioned pupils whom I have seen with my own eyes, one of them was Klaeng who later became Bishop of Skalaholt.1 He was entrusted to Bishop Jon by his mother at twelve years old to learn wisdom, and he became a most excellent cleric of the Holar church, a great upholder of Christianity and a fine preacher of G od’s word under the guidance of two bishops of Holar, Ketil and Bjorn.2 He had many fine pupils under him, writing out many noteworthy books which are still to be seen at Holar and at many other places. Vilmund also was taught there, he who was the first abbot of Thingeyrar, and so too was Hrein, who was the third abbot there.3 There were many others also in that school who later became noteworthy clerics: Isleif Grimsson, the bishop’s kinsman, Jon the Black, Bjami Bergthorsson, Bjorn who later was the third Bishop of Holar, and many others whom it would take too long to tell of.4 Also receiving education there was a pure-hearted virgin called Ingun. She was not inferior to any of the others in book­ learning; she taught Latin grammar to many and instructed any who wished to learn, and thus many grew well educated under her hand. She had great knowledge of Latin books, and had them read aloud to her while she herself sewed or played draughts or worked at fine embroideries of the stories of saints, thus teaching men the glory of God not only by the words of her spoken teaching but also by the work of her hands. Now all these effects flowed from a single spring, and this growth from a single vine-twig, which was the holy Jon. Our Lord Himself calls Himself a sweet vine and His chosen men the branches of the vine, as it says in the gospel: Ego sum vitis vera et vos palmites. 1 He was bishop 1152-76. 2 Ketil Thorsteinsson was Bishop o f H olar 1122-45, and Bjorn Gilsson 1147-62. 8 The Benedictine monastery o f Thingeyrar was founded in 1133; Vilmund Thorolfsson died in 1148, and Hrein Styrmisson (who in reality was the fourth, not the third abbot) died in 1171. 4 Bjorn Gilsson was Bishop of H olar 1147-62; Bjarni Bergthorsson probably was a mathematician and astronomer.

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Church and Chieftain (Extracts from þorláks saga in yngri, c. 1250. Oddaverja páttr, chs. 2, 6-7). In 1178 Thorlak Thorhallsson, later called Saint Thorlak, became bishop o f the southern diocese o f Iceland, and at once attempted to enforce ecclesiastical control over all property which had been dedicated to the maintenance o f a church but which, by Icelandic custom, was administered and controlled by its former owner or his heirs. In doing this, Thorlak was fo l­ lowing the will o f the Norwegian archbishop and the inter­ national policy o f the Church, but he came into conflict with the chieftains. A t t h a t time Jon Loptsson held the estate at Oddi, and he was the most powerful chieftain in Iceland in those days. He was a man most wise in all the accomplishments of a cleric, which he had acquired from his forbears; he had been ordained a deacon, and had much to say in the affairs of Holy Church. He also attached great importance to seeing that the churches he had charge of should be as well provided for as possible in every way. He was fully endowed with most of the accomplishments which were usual in men of that time. He was a man with so keen a sense of his own honour, and so headstrong too, that he could scarcely be more so; he would give way to no one, nor would he abandon anything he had undertaken to do. He had a wife, whose name was Halldora Brandsdottir, and their son was Saemund. Jon was very well suited to the love of women, and by various women he had had many other sons: Thorstein and Halldor, Sigurd and Einar. But his sons Pal (who later became bishop) and Orm (who later lived at Breidabolstad) were the sons he had by Ragnheid Thorhallsdottir, the sister of Bishop Thorlak. She and Jon had loved each other since childhood. Nevertheless she had children by other men too. Pal and Orm, the sons of Jon and Ragnheid, were full-grown men when Bishop

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Thorlak returned to Iceland with the rank of bishop; Pal was living a t Ytra-Skard and Orm at Briedabolstad. During long periods Jon used to keep Ragnheid a t his home at Oddi. At that time Jon had come into possession of the Hofdabrekka land, which used to be thought one of the best, before the Hofda River ruined it. A gale from the south-west had broken up two churches there, but now Jon had had a new church built there, and great pains had been taken over its construction. Bishop Thorlak the Saint was to stay there for a while during the same autumn that he came from the East Fjords, as has been said before; the plan was that he should consecrate the chinch there, and a magnificent feast was prepared to greet him. On the appointed day he arrived there with his companions; Jon was there to meet him, and so were many other men of importance. Next morning the bishop was preparing for the con­ secration of the church, but Jon and the men who were in agree­ ment with him went to the bishop, and an argument arose over who was to hold the deeds relating to the church. The lord bishop asked, as was in accordance with justice, whether Jon had heard the archbishop’s decree concerning church property. Jon answered: ‘I may hear the archbishop’s decree, but I am determined to consider it worthless, and I do not think that his intentions or wisdom are better than those of my forbears, Saemund the Learned and his sons. Moreover, I will not condemn the practice of our bishops in this country, who conformed to the national custom that laymen should administer the churches which their forbears dedicated to God, but the authority over which they reserved to themselves and their descendants.’ The bishop replied by giving the same sort of arguments as had been set out before, speaking as follows: ‘You know very well, Jon, if you are willing to be guided by truth, that it is for the bishop to administer church property and the tithes, according to the ordinances of the Apostles and other holy Fathers of the Church; and because laymen may not claim authority in such matters for themselves, such authority can never be secured for them by right of an old custom. I should think that the leaders o f the Church who lived before our time found excuse for this largely because they had not been ordered by their superiors to take the control of the churches and tithes into their own hands—but now men are liable to excommunication if they obstinately hold on to

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the tithes and property of God against the wishes and without the consent of the bishops.’ Jon answered: ‘You can call any man you like excommunicate, but I will never agree to give over into your hands any property of my own, any small church or large one, or whatever I have in my own hands.’ There was yet another cause of disagreement between them, and this arose from the flooding of the Hofda River, for the latter had overwhelmed many farmsteads which lay downstream from that spot, and two of them were those the churches had been on. Because of this, there were fewer tithes and fewer buildings for use as outlying chapels. Therefore Jon wanted there to be no more than one priest and one deacon for the church, whereas before there had been two priests and two deacons. The lord bishop said that he was not content with this, for the same reason. But over the first point of disagreement each held fast to his claim, and so a great part of the day passed by. But those who claimed to be friends of them both asked the bishop to give up his claim, and all the common people pulled in the same direction because of the old wrongful custom. When Bishop Thorlak saw that he could not succeed in his claim on that occasion, then these words sprang from his lips: ’It would be thought intolerable, if the matter came up before just judges, that you should drag the control of churches into your own hands, according to national custom, and away from the bishops; but it is far more intolerable that the bishops cannot succeed in taking away from you those whores of yours, whom you keep against all our national customs. Maybe you will get your way in the greater matter, as you got it in the lesser, though your will is set upon evil.’ Men think that Bishop Thorlak said these words because he found that the majority of people were following Jon in the dis­ pute over the church. He gave way at that time because he saw that there would be nothing gained by it if he did go forward, but rather it would bring great harm in many ways; and he expected that later, with the archbishop’s help, the church would obtain its rights. But sorrowful news came from the very quarter from which he hoped to get encouragement, for shortly afterwards Arch­ bishop Eystein was exiled from Norway because of the dis­ putes over church rights. Here in Iceland all men thought that

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they could act in the same way as men had already acted in Norway. That day the bishop consecrated the church and sang Mass, though his wishes had met with no success there. He was very little pleased with the outcome of his claim. After this all the others followed Jon’s example, so that none would give churches into Bishop Thorlak’s authority, and so the issue was allowed to lapse during his days. *

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His Lordship Bishop Thorlak complained of many matters against Jon Loptsson of Oddi, both about his fornications and about his wrongful use of his property, and especially because he kept Ragnheid, the bishop’s sister, in his own home during his wife’s lifetime, thereby showing thorough obstinacy and dis­ obedience. And even though Jon replied with a certain amount of moderation to the bishop’s other complaints, he would not enter into any agreement to part from Ragnheid. A t length it came to this, that the bishop put him under an interdict. Jon was deeply angered at having to accept the bishop’s severity, because of his sense of honour, and also because many people took a wicked share in their dispute, especially his son Thorstein, who lived at Gunnarsholt. With unheard-of folly, he urged his father to cut off the bishop’s head; but Jon intended to bully the bishop into yielding, as before, rather than use weapons against him. On one occasion when the bishop was going round his diocese and his way took him near to the farmstead of Oddi, Jon planned to kidnap the bishop and bully him into submission, as he had many others. He placed men along both sides of the narrow glens which lie to the east of the farm, and they thought the bishop would pass that way, as he was riding down from Landeyjar and up to Rangarvellir. But as he and his men were crossing the east branch of Ranga River, it seemed to the men at Oddi as if a thick fog were coming up from the sea, so that one could hardly see at all. It lasted till the bishop and his men were out of sight. But the men in the ambush thought the bishop must have gone by some other way. The bishop’s attendants clearly saw men sitting on both sides of the glen, but as they did not know what this meant 80

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they went onwards without fear, since the others gave them no cause to be afraid. When Jon knew that this plan of his had fallen through, he rode round to his farm in such a way as to come to meet the bishop, with the same intention, and some men went with him. Neverthe­ less he told his friends that he was anxious as to whether he would have as much strength in his hands as he expected to find in the bishop. His son Thorstein was beside him and said: *1 will settle that difficulty, father, and put an end to this bishop who commits monstrous outrages against people.’ Jon answered: ‘You can go to meet the bishop if you like, but the ill luck fated for you will not be that of overcoming Thorlak in any way. That will be no man’s lot but mine alone, if I will lend myself to it.’ Thorstein said he did not believe that, and went off with some men, and they reached Rangarvellir while the bishop was at table. And when they saw men going out they asked where the bishop was, and were told he was at table. Then Thorstein began to utter great threats against the bishop, if he should come out. Those who had gone to the door came in again, and they were asked what men had come there. They said that Thorstein Jonsson had come, and some very well armed men with him, and that Thorstein was uttering great threats against him if he should come out. The bishop had been told of his former words and of his father’s reply, and also of all Jon’s intentions. The servants urged the bishop not to go out, but he, bold and fearless in the face of the violence of evil men, replied: ‘I will go to the church as I usually do. This man will do me no harm.’ The servants then said: ‘My lord, stay indoors and sing from your psalter, and do hot risk yourself among the weapons of this man of Hell, who will shrink from nothing.’ - The bishop said: ‘I will go on as I have planned, but if this man does anything to me, maybe I shall never need anything again.’ After this he went out, and when Thorstein saw him he did not delay in raising his axe. But he was not granted power to control it, and so he could not complete his stroke, believing that the strength of God was hindering him. Meanwhile the bishop was looking at him, but said nothing, and went into the church as he had meant to do. 81

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Thorstein went to find his father and told him of his expedi­ tion, just as it had happened. Jon said: ‘It didn’t go so differently from what I had expected.’ Thorstein was asked why he did not complete his axe stroke. He said his arm went stiff from the moment the bishop looked at him until he went into the church, so that he could not swing the axe forward.

Two days later Jon gathered a large troop o f men and so blocked the approaches to another church which the bishop intended to visit. The bishop said: ‘Do you intend, Jon, to forbid me to enter the church?’ Jon answered: ‘That will depend on you.’ The bishop said: ‘It looks to me as if you want to have your own way on this occasion, but I am curious as to why you are doing this.’ Jon answered: ‘For a long time you have forbidden me to enter a church and have sworn to lay me under an interdict. Therefore I wanted our meeting to take place in such a way that I would have more men at my orders than you.’ The bishop said: ‘It is true that I have proclaimed such a prohibition against you for the sake of truth, but the imposition of the ban has been delayed because I hoped you would have wisdom enough to find a way out of your sinful ways. If you do not do so you can certainly expect that I shall not delay in laying you under the ban; indeed, it would be better to have done so earlier.’ ‘I know ’, said Jon, ‘that your ban is just and that the cause o f it is weighty enough. I will accept what you say, to this extent: that I will go to Thorsmork, or some such place, where the general public will not incur penalties by having anything to do with me, and I will stay there with this woman whose existence rouses your zeal, for as long a time as I like; your ban will not part me from my sinful ways, nor will constraint from any man, until G od inspires my heart to part from them of my own free will. But con­ sider how your own affairs stand, because I mean to arrange

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things in such a way that you will render this service to no other man than me.’ At these words the bishop fell silent for a while, but in the end he said: ‘In this cause I am prepared to endure whatever may befall me. Do whatever you like, for I am not prepared to set aside the ban because of faint-heartedness in face of your threats.’ Jon answered: ‘If you mean to do as you say, I ’ll not risk any more meetings between us.’ But even though Jon spoke thus, the bishop showed no emotion at all about it. But Orm the priest, who was standing next to him, saw that Jon would not soften his anger and that those who had been urgers of evil before would now be ready to carry out what had been threatened—so he ran forward in front of the bishop and said: 'I adjure you, my lord, for the sake of Our Lord Jesus Christ, not to impose this ban on Jon and your sister on this occasion; rather bide your time, in case that hour might come, of which Jon holds out some hope, that he might part from her himself and accept absolution from you. My lord, if you think that such for­ bearance is a great humiliation for the Church, consider that it would be a greater humiliation for her to lose you both on the same day, for Jon will be fearless in seeing to it that what he resolutely declared will be fulfilled. Observe, too, that even though you are putting your life in danger for God’s sake, it will be no remedy for the lighter crime that one more grave should follow; it is better to wait patiently for good than to increase sinful deeds.’ At first the bishop looked ungraciously at him, but as many others backed him in what he said, at last the bishop said: ‘This is just the same as before, Jon: you want to have your way, though your intentions are bad; but if I knew that the delay would lead to good, I would risk it.’ All those who were there were glad that he should say there was a hope of his deferring the ban, and so the bishop escaped from deadly peril. After that Jon was asked when the amendment of his ways, of which he had held out hope, would come about, if the bishop deferred the ban. Jon said: ‘The bishop must promise a respite, if nothing is to be done about this, and it will be for me to decide how to bring it about.’

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Finally, this was the upshot of the meeting: the bishop promised not to add to his severity towards Jon for a while, and Jon allowed the bishop to reach the church and rode away. After that only a few months passed before Jon formally declared his association with Ragnheid at an end, and they both made confession to the bishop and received absolution from him; And some while later Ragnheid was given in marriage to a N or­ wegian called Amthor, and many men are descended from them. But the bishop separated her from Jon for as long as he lived, saying that they should have no meetings or conversations except in front of witnesses and in public places. The bishop and Jon never ceased to be on unfriendly terms while they both Were alive. As for Jon’s son Thorstein, who wanted to kill the bishop, as was said above, he was a man followed by the greatest bad luck, so that his father and brothers endured long trials because of him.

Bishop Pal Jonsson (Extracts from Páls saga biskups, c. 1215, chs. 1 and 6.) I P a l was the son of that most noble man, Jon the son of Lopt the son of Sæmund the Learned. Jon’s mother was Thora, daughter of King Magnus Bareleg; but Pal’s mother was Ragn­ heid Thorhallsdottir, sister of Bishop Thorlak the Saint.1 Pal was brought up at Oddi by his father Jon, and the latter, and others too, esteemed him more and more highly the older he grew. Pal was handsome to look at, with fine eyes and a firm glance, fair curling hair, well-shaped limbs and small feet, and a clear rosy complexion; he was of medium height, and had most courtly 1 F o r an acco u n t o f th e enm ity betw een Jo n L optsso n an d B ishop T h o r­ lak over the fo rm er’s relationship w ith R agnheid see pp. 8 0 -4 ; fo r an an ecdote a b o u t S æ m und the L earned, pp. 70-3.

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manners. He was quick-witted at his studies and was already learned while still a young man; he was clever in everything he did, whether it was writing or some other skill. He married young and took as his wife Herdis Ketilsdottir, a beautiful woman and accomplished in every quality which could be an adornment to a woman. When they had lived together for a few years, Pal went abroad and went to the court of Earl Harald of the Orkneys,1 and he thought very highly of him. After that he went south to England and joined a school there, and there he acquired such learning that there can hardly have been any instance of any man’s acquiring so much or so deep learning in so short a time. When he came back to Iceland he stood out above all other men for the courtliness of his culture, his verse-making, and his book-learning. He was, too, a man with so fine a voice and such a gift for sing­ ing that his singing and his voice surpassed those of all other men who lived in his time. Then he went to stay at Oddi once again, and he was held in high favour there, as he deserved to be. *

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Bishop Thorlak, Pal’s maternal uncle, thought very highly of him and loved him deeply, and often invited him to stay with him. And though certain other chieftains were strongly opposed to Bishop Thorlak, the more others turned against him the more Pal was a loyal kinsman and trusty friend to him. And when Bishop Thorlak died, Pal again showed that his kinship was more loving than almost all his noble friends. The next summer after the death of Bishop Thorlak the Holy,1 Pal was chosen to be bishop.

n When Bishop Pal came to his See at Skalaholt he soon saw and felt that it was his duty to support and strengthen and bring to completion a plan for which the holy Bishop Thorlak had ex­ pressed a wish, and on which he had spent money—and that was 1 H a rald M ad d ad arso n th e O ld, died 1205.

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2 i.e. 1194.

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to prepare a place for the bells which Thorlak had bought for the church at Skalaholt, and which were the best in all Iceland at that time; and he had had four lengths of timber brought out to Ice­ land with these bells, each measuring twenty ells in length. Then Bishop Pal sent for the man who was the most skilful in all Iceland at timber work (whose name was Amund Amason), and bade him build a bell-tower which would be so elaborate both in materials and in workmanship that it would be no less outstanding among all the woodwork of Iceland than the church itself was already. He ordered that a chapel should be made high up in the bell-tower, and a staircase to go up by; and he dedicated this chapel to the holy Bishop Thorlak on the tenth day o f Christ­ mas, and then adorned the chapel most beautifully in every way and procured for it everything that it needed. He ordered a painter, Atli the priest, to paint the whole roof inside the belltower, and the front wall too, and to cover all the lower part o f the walls with fine and beautiful triple hangings; and likewise he ordered him to record in writing, above each particular grave, the burial of each particular person who is laid to rest there in the bell-tower. The money that he spent on the building of this tower was no less, by his own reckoning, than four hundred hundreds, or even more.1 From a Norwegian named Kol he bought more bells for this tower, and these were treasures of just as much value. Later he bought more bells for the tower, and also two others for a peal up in the church itself; and in every way he could think of he enriched both the church and the bell-tower with adornments of all kinds—with wooden panels, and crosses, and paintings, and images, and lamps, and glass windows, and bishop’s robes of all sorts. He also ordered that a stone coffin should be carved with magnificent skill, in which he was laid after his death, and he had splendid graves made in the bell-tower for the men to whom he felt he had the deepest obligations. 1 T h e im plied u n it is th e ell o f w oven cloth. T ra n sla ted in to o u n ces o f silver, th e o th e r basic u n it o f Icelandic m oney, this su m a m o u n ts to 1,066 ounces o f silver.

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Episodes in a Blood-Feud (F ro m

Guðmundar saga dýra, chs. 12-1 4 , 17 -1 8 , e. 1215)

This saga tells o f the growth o f hatred between two rival chieftains o f northern Iceland at the end o f the twelfth century — Gudmund the Excellent and Onund Thorkelsson. Their enmity finds fuel in many petty quarrels between their respec­ tive kinsmen and followers; it is with one o f these that these extracts begin. I

O ne summer a horsefight was held at Hamar in Fljot; the men whose horses were to meet were both called Nikulas. One was Nikulas Runolfsson [of Mjovafell]; he was poor, and of rather low family. He had three sons, the eldest called Runolf, the others Leif and Halli; all were full-grown men. The other was Nikulas Bjamarson . . . ; he had plenty of money and was considered one of the finest farmers. They both had grey-coloured horses. Now the horses were brought face to face, and each bit the other fiercely while their encounter lasted. It then seemed to Nikulas of Mjovafell that the horses were being unequally driven,1 and that this was done because of the difference in rank between the owners. He had a stout stick in his hand, and he tried to strike at his namesake’s horse, but Nikulas Bjamarson got in the way of the blow, and it was on him that the stick landed. He struck back at his namesake’s head with a light axe, and that wound was slight. Then a crowd gathered. Runolf, son of Nikulas of Mjovafell, was there; he was being held, but loosely, and he managed to snatch an axe from some man and struck Nikulas Bjamarson 1 The horses were beaten if they slackened in the fight; the owner (or his deputy) could strike his own horse, b u t never his opponent’s.

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between the shoulders, and that wound was very deep. And thereupon the horse-meeting broke up. Nikulas of Mjovafell had a slight wound, and he said, as he rode home: ‘I don’t know how I would have acted when I was in the prime of life—but fancy striking a sixty-year-old man on the head, and that the man rides off with his head unbandaged! ’ After this, Runolf fled from the district. Nikulas Bjamarson recovered. He was a close kinsman of Kolbein Tum ason1 and a follower of Gudmund the Excellent. This case was settled by agreement; the injuries which the name­ sakes had done each other were to be counted as equal, but Runolf was to be outlawed from the district and was never to live anywhere where Gudmund or Kolbein held authority.

Runolf breaks the terms o f his outlawry, but eventually decides to make his peace with Kolbein by offering him some stud-horses; Kolbein advises him to give them to Gudmund. Then Runolf came to Gudmund and offered him these horses as a gift, and he accepted them. Runolf stayed there several days. From there he went down to Langahlid,* to which his brothers Leif and Halli had come to visit Onund. Now Halli spoke of how Runolf had given the horses away. Onund showed displeasure at his having given the horses, since even so he had not been explicitly granted peace. So the upshot was that Runolf went back for the horses and took them away, for he knew where they were, and brought them to Langahlid and gave them to Onund. Onund took them both into his home, Runolf and the horses too—and Runolf was nicknamed Turn­ coat. But Gudmund behaved as if he knew nothing of this, and his honour was greatly diminished and was thought to be sadly shrunk by what had happened; and Onund’s men said that Gudmund was sitting on a sanctuary chair up in Oxnadal,3 and 1 K olbein was related to G u d m u n d , a n d w as a chieftain to o . * H om e o f G u d m u n d ’s rival, O nund. * T his ta u n t is based o n th e fa c t th a t certain m ajo r E nglish churches offered inviolable sanctuary to any fugitive w ho reached a holy ch a ir n ear the a ltar. O xnadal is th e valley in w hich lay B akki, G u d m u n d ’s farm stead. 88

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they said they would build a wall across the valley at the upper and lower ends, and then turf it over and bury Gudmund’s honour there. Then Gudmund went to none of the gatherings that summer, and neither did any of his men, nor to the games that winter. On the first Sunday after Christmas Day [1196], games were held at Bægisa; the man who lived there was named Thorvald and was a close kinsman to Gudmund. The men from Langahlid went there to the games, but no one came down from Oxnadal. There came there to the games a man called Olaf, nicknamed Tarry-Cheek, and he was staying at Kolbein Tumason’s. And when the game was over, he stepped forward and dealt Runolf a blow as he was walking across the floor, striking him on the arm; and he was one-handed from then on. Then Olaf got away out of the room, though not out of the house; the men from Langahlid got in front of the main door, and there men tussled together. Some women took a hand in all this and managed to get Olaf away into the larder and out of the window there; but outside there was a fierce snowstorm driving down along the valley. Then Thorvald said that this quarrelling must stop. The others said they would stop at once if Olaf was handed over to them, and they said they wanted to take him to Onund that very evening and find out what punishment he would devise for him. Thorvald said it was not in his power to hand Olaf over to them, but that it was not unlikely that they would see him themselves if they quickly turned in pursuit. They said they asked for nothing better. Thorvald said that it would be their own faults if he escaped far. Then they all ran out and saw a man running with all his might, and he had got as far as South Bægisa. The men of Langahlid set out after him. The snowstorm began to grow heavier, and the weather became rough and dark. Olaf did not enter any building in the valley till he came to Gudmund’s sheiling at the place called Varmavatn; he lay down there in the sheiling and slept for a while, then he went away. Onund’s men came there when he was away from the sheiling; the same thing happened three times in the night, that he fled from the sheiling, and each time they came there while he was away. Then they went off down the valley, thinking he must have 89

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gone south over the moor. But as soon as he saw that day was dawning, he went on his way and came safe home to Vidimyr.1

In revenge fo r the maiming o f R unolf his brother L e if with the help o f Thorfirm the son o f Onund, wounds Thorvald o f Bcegisa. When Gudmund the Excellent heard of this, he set out from Bakki, his home, wanting to find out whether Thorvald was fit to be moved to there; he and his men were fourteen together. Onund had also set out from home for Bægisa, wanting to find out how Runolf’s arm was. This was on the same day as that on which Gudmund set out, and neither knew of the other’s plan. Onund and his men were fifteen together. They advanced towards one another, and each recognized the other. Hakon Thord’s son * was with Gudmund, and he said: ‘It’s a good thing we should meet them here; now let’s fight it out to the death. It’s not certain whether on some other day we would not lose more men than now, for there will not be long to wait.’ Gudmund answered: ‘These odds are not those I would choose.’ Hakon answered: ‘These are just such odds as I like best, for now our whole encounter will go as fate decides.’ Gudmund answered: ‘I won’t allow any taunts or assaults from my band to provoke them, but meet them as valiantly as you can, if they make a move against us.’ But it was easy to see that Hakon did not shrink from giving provocation. Onund and his men took up their positions on a small hillock; but Gudmund and his men passed by them, and neither side attacked the other. Then Gudmund went on his way . . . and fetched Thorvald home with him that evening, and he and Onund did not meet again then. But Thorvald was healed. 1 K olbein’s hom e. * O ne o f G u d m u n d ’s nephew s, son o f T h o rd o f L aufas (p 94)

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n There was a man called Erlend . . . ; he lived at Myrka. He was a well-liked man, a tall, strong man; he was a retainer of Onund’s, but he lived on a farm of his own. It happened early that spring that Erlend went to Langahlid to see Onund, and said he had noticed that Gudmund’s men were going about in bands whereever they went. He also said that he knew that Soxolf Fornason in M yrkadal1 always had many men with him, and he begged Onund to be more on his guard than before. Leif and Halli were present, and they answered: ‘A little while ago we both went through all Oxnadal and searched all the upper pastures, and we found no sheep on them except one hornless ewe whose wool had all fallen out, and she won’t go far this spring. It’s our opinion that Gudmund is sitting firmly on his sanctuary chair.’ Onund answered: ‘It may be true that he is sitting for a while; but if he does get up, it’s not certain how small his step will be.’ Then Erlend went home. It happened that spring that the servants went into the house at Langahlid in broad daylight, wanting to find Onund because of something they needed—they did not then see him. And this happened three times. And yet he was sitting in his usual place. At Sakka in Svarfadardal lived Arnthrud Fornadottir and her sons.2 Something worth the telling happened there one morning while men were sleeping in the sleeping-hall: two axes whistled loudly on the axe-shelf. Then they were taken down, and they belonged to the brothers Thorstein and Snorri, the sons of Arnthrud; they did not whistle any the less even while they were being handled. Then the priest Gudmund Arason was sent for, and then they fell silent when he sprinkled them with holy water. It was a week after Erlend had gone to Langahlid that he thought he noticed that men were gathering, and then he left home. This was on the Tuesday before Rogation Days.3 A man went with him whose name was Hauk and who was his stepson. They went as far as the river which is called Barka; Soxolf 1 Another o f G udm und’s nephews. 2 G udm und’s niece; her sons were named Thorstein, Snorri, Brand, and Klæng. 3 6th M ay 1197.

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Fom ason was there, with seven others, barring the way. He asked where Erlend was meaning to go, and he answered: ‘To Langahlid.’ Soxolf said: ‘My advice to you is: go no farther than you’ve come already. I think this is good advice.’ Erlend said: ‘I ’m not aware of there being any such great dangers on my road that I can’t go on my way.’ Soxolf said that that was as it might be. Erlend rode on his way and reached Oxnahol and stopped there for a while; he and his companions set out again, and now there were eight of them in all. And when they came out at Hallfridarstadir, Soxolf was there once again, barring the way. This time he and his men were fifteen in all. Soxolf said: ‘Turn back, Erlend, don’t go any farther. I know that you think you have noticed that there is gathering of men and some danger drawing in on Onund, and it is brave of you to wish all the same to warn him of it. But nothing can come of that now, and it may be that you are risking your own life. It’s no secret now that our encounter is about to take place. You can see, over at the mouth of Oxnadal, by Granabru, that a troop of men is advancing. And there, when the sun shines down on the scarps, you can see shields flashing; and those men there are from out at Svarfadardal. And now this whole troop will meet, and visit Onund tonight.’ Erlend thought there was all the more need that he should go, and he put spurs to his horse, but Soxolf seized the reins. Then Erlend jumped down, and tried to run. Then Snorri, son of Arnthrud, struck at him, but Hauk thrust a buckler between, and he got no wound. Erlend struck back, but Brand, son of A m thrud, thrust a buckler between, and that too was no wound. Then Sighvat the son of Soxolf ran forward and drove a spear at Erlend, and it caught him high on the thigh and slashed inwards, and that was a flesh-wound. And at this Erlend and his men were forced to turn back to Oxnahol. After this, Gudmund’s bands of men gathered on the gravel banks above Langahlid. Kolbein Tumason also had come there from the west with his band, and he and Gudmund together had nearly a hundred men. The men of Langahlid saw these bands and felt certain that violence would come of it. They had nearly fifty men there to 92

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oppose them. Now they talked things over and it seemed to them advisable that they should prepare to make their defence out of doors; there were some earthworks there round the buildings, and they declared that the defence could be long kept up from outside. Onund said he had often heard of cases where it was hard to press the attack when men were attacked inside their houses. They answered and said that they thought that then the farm would be set on fire. Onund turned a deaf ear to that and insisted on having his way, and all the men went in.

m The bands of men dismounted outside the farmstead, and then they all went up to the farm and divided their forces, and some went round behind the buildings, meaning to attack from both sides if the others defended themselves outside. But when they came up to the doors all the men had gone in, but one door was open. Then Onund asked who was in command of that troop. Gudmund answered: ‘The leadership isn’t worth much. Now here comes that ewe, the hornless one, coming down from the valley, even though so much of her wool is gone—and the wether at the head of this flock is in no better shape than that. Anyway, she is now resolved that one of two things must happen: either she must now lose the whole of her fleece, or go home with her fleece entire.’ Onund asked whether it would be possible to bring about some reconciliation between men there. Gudmund answered: ‘For a long time now nothing has come of our reconciliations, whatever pretence there may have been. And now too nothing would come of it.’ ‘Then we’ll seek no such thing’, said Onund. Then Gudmund’s men threw spears in at the door, and then the door was shut. Gudmund’s men realized that attacking the house would be slow work if it was not set on fire; there were many men in there, well armed. But no fire was to be found on the spot. Then they

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went to the place called Grund, where there are two farms, and they got some from one farm but not from the other. But some of them broke up the cowshed and barn and carried hay up to the main buildings; and when the fire came, they could not start a blaze in front of the doorway. Then Thord of Laufas and his men climbed up on to the house and tore out the thatch and kindled a fire among the roof-beams. Hay was stuffed in at all the windows. The timber below was dry, and it was not easy to guard against this from inside the house. Then permission was asked for women and those men not directly concerned in the feud to leave the house. Then Gudmund ordered that a breach should be made in the wall near the door and by the gable-window, and all those who had permission to leave went out by that way, for there were many inside whom they did not wish to harm. Then thick smoke arose, and they could not see clearly. There was a man there called Thorodd and nicknamed Longnose. He had many weapons in his arms, and he wanted to bring them out. But Hakon the son of Thord was standing outside there, and he at once struck him his death-blow—and he made no mistake in this, for they had meant to take his life. Thorodd was the first man to die there. Inside there there was a man called Galm Grimsson, a well-todo farmer, who lived at the place called Dynhagi. He was a friend of them all, and of nobody more than Kolbein Tumason. He went to the door and spoke to them, and at that time the fire had not yet done too much harm for it to be possible to save everything. He asked Gudmund and Kolbein to turn back for that time, and he offered them all his wealth if they would—and he was a very wealthy man and had a very fine farm. Kolbein answered and said that he would himself give Galm as much wealth as he wished if he would come out. Galm answered; ‘ For a long time you’ve laughed at me because I enjoyed baths and have often drunk a lot.. Now here’s a chance for a bath,1but I think it’s not quite clear how I’ll manage now for a drink of mead.’ And he did not go out. Then Thorfinn said to Gudmund, his father-in-law: ‘It’s a pity that your daughter Ingibjorg is not in here now !’ 1 i.e. a steam-bath, needing fierce fire to fill a hut with steam.

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Gudmund answered: ‘It’s just as well that she’s not here. But even that could not stop anything now.’ 1 Then Halli, son of Nikulas, ran out. And he was badly injured by the heat, and threw himself down in the stream which ran in front of the door. But Snorri, son of Amthrud, had been ap­ pointed to give him a wound, and he ran up and dealt him his death-blow there in the stream. Then Tjorvi came out,* and Thorvald of Bægisa had been appointed to deal with him, and he ran Tjorvi through with a sword. Then Tjorvi went down to the level ground and over to where Gudmund was standing. Gudmund said, not having seen that he had received a wound: ‘Tjorvi must be given quarter’, said he, ‘though indeed you don’t deserve it.’ Tjorvi answered: ‘I expect no quarter’, and then he fell, and he was dead. Then Leif, son of Nikulas, ran out. Gudmund Tassason* had been appointed to wound him. Leif had no weapon, but he caught hold of a man called Svein Jonsson and used him as a shield. Hakon Thord’s son saw that and struck at Leif’s shoulder, cutting off the whole shoulder and downwards; and he got to the church, wounded as he was. There was a wind blowing that night, and it seemed to them that, as things were going, the fire would turn towards the church. Then Gudmund vowed to give a cow to the church if no harm came to it; then a dead calm fell, and thereupon a gust blew from the church and drove all the fire away. By then indeed nobody could come near the fire, and the flames sprang up so high from the buildings that the sparks came down very far off when the buildings began to bum. Then they saw that something came tumbling out through the gap that had been broken in the wall, but they did not recognize it until it moved, and they asked what it could be. He answered and said it was Thorfinn there. Now Urda-Stein had been appointed to wound him, but he 1 T horfinn was o ne o f O n u n d ’s sons; he h ad forced G u d m u n d in to letting him m arry his dau g h ter Ingibjorg, and h ad always tak en a leading p a rt in th e enm ity against G udm und. * T jorvi h ad tak en a m inor p a rt in th e attack on T h o rv a ld in vengeance fo r th e m aim ing o f R unolf. * A servant o f T ho rv ald o f Bægisa.

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was not willing to do so, for everything about him was in flames, both his hair and his clothes. Then the sons of Amthrud, Thorstein and Snorri, ran forward and attacked him. Thorfinn said they must strike hard blows and many of them, and said that no man would be more dangerous to them than he himself, if he lived. Thorfinn got into the church, wounded as he was, and lived for three days more. People did say that Thorfinn would not have lived even if he had had no wound, so badly was he injured by the fire. Onund and Galm burned to death there indoors. The burning was over before nine in the morning. The sons of Thord went round and thrust with spears into everything which seemed to them likely to afford a hiding-place in which men might have hidden. After this they went away, and took their morning meal at Bakki. And as they were leaving the scene of the burning, Kolbein spoke this verse: ‘Fighters full of wiliness, Fierce amid the sword-storm, Blamed the moderate mood of Manly-hearted Gudmund. The lordly man has lit this fire! They’ve learnt now, those shield-wielders, That he who stirred this storm of blades In strife is no meek weakling!’

Onund's surviving relatives brought lawsuits against Gud­ mund and his allies fo r this deed; very heavy fines and terms o f exile were imposed. TV

During the summer of the Burning and the next, no ships came to the north coast, and so the journeys of the men who had been ordered to go abroad were delayed. Gudmund the Excellent went about in all directions trying to raise money. He went north to Sletta and to Grimsey with a cargo boat he owned, to gather goods into his farm so as to pay something towards this. He even

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went far and wide begging for money, and sent others to do so too. . . . At that time a man named Thorgrim lived at Modruvellir in Horgardal; he was married to Gudrun, the daughter of Onund. In the autumn when two summers had passed since the Burning, some men came to Modruvellir—all the sons of Onund, Vigfus and Hamund and Thord. The latter had been granted quarter in the Burning; he was a child in years and had been recently ordained priest. Vigfus too was a priest; he had not taken part in the settlement of the lawsuits, and behaved as if it did not apply to him. Also in the farm was Falki Dalksson, and with him an out­ law named Starkad. At the morning meal that day dishes were set before them, but there was nothing on them save the singed heads and feet of sheep that had been slaughtered that autumn. Thorgrim asked: ‘What’s the reason for this wretched food? I would have thought one could expect something rather different, for the sake of these men.’ Gudrun answered: ‘Nothing has been given me in such abundance as singed flesh.’ Her brother Vigfus answered: ‘Evidently you are reminding us of what singed flesh must mean to us.’ And that very day Thorgrim set out with fourteen men for Amames, where Hakon the son of Thord owned a farm; they were going in search of plunder, and to take blood vengeance too. But when they got there, Hakon was not at his home. They plun­ dered there, carrying off fourteen hundred and forty ells of russet cloth which Hakon had set aside to trade with when he went abroad; there was no resistance, except that Hakon’s wife abused them roundly. But when they came home to Modruvellir, Gudrun the daughter of Onund was standing in the doorway, and said she would not take stolen goods into her house.

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Hakon gathers a small group o f kinsmen: his brother Hildibrand, his cousins Thorstein, Snorri, and Brand the sons o f Arnthrud, and their half-brother Urda-Stein. They go to find Hakon's father Thord at Laufas, but he is away from home. v Now to tell of Thorgrim and his companions, on the other side of the fjord. They went on board ship, twelve of them together. The second of them was Vigfus the priest, son of Onund; the third, his brother Hamund; the fourth, Sighvat the Tall; the fifth, his brother Eyvind; the sixth, Falki Dalksson; the seventh, Starkad the Strong, the outlaw; the eighth, Asmund; the ninth, Eyjolf; the tenth, Solvi, the son of Thorodd Longnose; the eleventh, Sigurd the G reek1; the twelfth, his brother Thorgrim. Then they rowed across the fjord to Laufas and came to land beside the ship of Hakon and his companions, and they recog­ nized that ship, and went up to the farm, and went first into the sleeping-hall, where they found none of the men of the house. Then they tried to get into the main hall, but it was barred. Then they tore out the skylight. At this Brand awoke because of the noise, and jumped up and asked who was there. Thorgrim recognized his voice and called out to his companions and said: ’Those devils the sons of Arnthrud are in here!’ Then they threw stones in through the window of the skylight, but those inside got no harm from this. Hakon asked how many men they had. Thorgrim answered: ‘Scarcely a hundred.’ Hakon asked permission for them to come out, but this was not granted. Then Thorgrim fetched fire and brought it to the door of the hall and set fire to some pieces of a wooden chest, which they could snatch away at once if they wished to. But when those who were inside noticed the smoke, they asked that the farm should not be burned down. And then Hakon asked them for quarter, and Thorgrim promised quarter for Hakon and Hildibrand. 1 N o t literally a G reek , b u t so called because h e h a d visited B yzantium .

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Then they broke a way into the hall by the skylight and dragged them all out there on a rope, all but Urda-Stein. He said he would never let himself be pulled out there, not even if the whole farm were to be burned down for him. And when they came out, they were all held fast except Hakon; he was left free, and stood outside there. When Erp the priest [of Laufas] came outside, he said Hakon ought to go into the church and so save his life. Hakon answered: ‘I don’t need to, for I’ve been promised quarter.’ The priest answered: ‘They won’t keep the fine promises they make.’ Hakon said: ‘I am not allowed to go into a church.’ 1 The priest answered: ‘I’ll take the responsibility for it, if you go in there to save your life.’ Hakon answered: ‘Even so, I will not go into the church, for I am not allowed to. But if they do anything to me, then the blame for it is theirs.’ Then the priest opened the doors of his church and left them standing open. The three sons of Amthrud received the ministrations of the priest. Then Brand became aware that he was being held loosely; he gave a violent jerk and got free and reached the church, though they ran after him all the way to the church. His brothers, Thorstein and Snorri, prepared themselves for death; they washed their hands and combed their hair, as though to go to a banquet. Then Snorri spoke. ‘I would like’, said he, ‘that I should be killed before Thorstein, for I trust him more than myself to be able to forgive you, even if he sees me being killed.’ Then Thorgrim’s men said that something should be bound over their eyes. But they answered and said they did not need to have their eyes bound like thieves, and said they had often seen weapons. Now Snorri was beheaded first. It was Hamund, the son of Onund, who did this. Vigfus, the son of Onund, said it would be most fitting if he were to slay Thorstein, but that it would not be lawful for him to do so as he was a priest. Falki Dalksson said he would find someone to do it, and so Starkad the outlaw slew him. 1 P robably he w as still u n d er an in terd ict fo r his p a rt in th e Burning. e

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Sighvat the Tall argued strongly and urged that the sons of Thord ought to be killed, saying that no one would be harsher towards Thorgrim than they. Then Thorgrim gave orders for the brothers to be seized. Hildibrand got as far as the church door and managed to grip the doorpost, and they tore him away from the doorpost, and then Solvi slew him. Then Hakon alone was left. He asked that they should cut off his hand and his foot, and said he would then go abroad thus to pray for his sins and those of others, and go on pilgrimage to Rome. Thorgrim said he did not want to torture him in such a way. Then Hakon asked that they should stab him to death, not behead him. Thorgrim would not do that. Then there was no one who would come forward to kill Hakon. Solvi would not do it, because he had sworn oaths to Hakon that he would never avenge the killing of Thorodd Longnose. Then Sigurd the Greek said: T i l get you out of this difficulty over killing Hakon.’ Hakon answered: ‘That indeed is just what I would choose, for I ’m less guilty towards you than towards any other man here. I took you in penniless when you arrived in Iceland, and I gave you hospitality; but three times I caught you in bed with my wife.’ Hakon gave his weapons to Solvi Thoroddsson. Thereupon Sigurd killed Hakon. Then they forced their way into the main hall and broke a way through to Urda-Stein and attacked him there, but he defended himself well. There was a way leading from the main hall to the larder, and the door opened before Urda-Stein when he came to it, and he escaped through there, and was wounded almost to death. Then a woman went out towards the church, carrying in her arms a baby boy of whom Hildibrand was the father. Sighvat bade them kill the boy. Then Thorgrim ran up and said: ‘There’s to be no killing of women or children here, not even if that boy were to be the death of us all.’ Then Thorgrim and his men went away. But Thord came home when they had already gone, and saw what deed had been done, and said: ‘Now here’s some fresh slaughtered meat to handle.’ 100

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Then their bodies were laid out, and the sons of Thord were buried there at their home, but Thorstein and Snorri were carried to Vellir in Svarfadardal. The blood-feud dragged on for some years more. A t length all Gudmund’s enemies were dead, exiled, or impoverished by crippling fines; Gudmund him self gave up his chieftainship and became a monk, soon after which he died, ‘and so laid down his honour'.

The Battles of 1066 (From Hernings páttr) Herning, the nominal hero o f this story, leaves Norway so as to escape the hostility o f King Harald Sigurdarson the Stern. He goes to England, calling himself L eif or Bœjar-Leif joins the court o f Edward the Confessor, and becomes a firm friend o f Harold Godwinsson. i

N o w to take up the tale at this point: there was an earl ruling Northumberland whose name was Godwin Ulfnad’s son; he was married to Ingirid, who was daughter to Earl Thorgils Bandy-leg and sister to Earl Ulf, the father of King Svein [of Denmark]. Godwin had many sons. One son of his was called Harold; he was the courtliest of men. Another was called Tosti; he was a tall man and a strong one, swarthy, inclined to talk a great deal, and a very fierce fighting man; he was not well liked. A third was named Kari and called Moru-Kari.1 The youngest was called 1 T his is E arl M orcar o f N o rth u m b ria, w ho was n o t in fact a son o f G odw in, th ough he did eventually becom e the brother-in-law an d ally o f H arold.

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Valthjof.1 And his daughter was called Valgerda; she was given in marriage to a man named Aki and called Aki the Tall, and they lived a t Scarborough. *

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Harold was eighteen years old when he set out westwards from England to Normandy with twelve ships. The ruler there was Robert, Earl of Rouen; he had a son named William, called the Bastard. William was of taller build than most other men; he had a wife called Maud, and their sons were Henry and Robert, most courtly and valiant men. William invited Harold to his home, and he spent the winter there. In the spring they decided to hold all their wealth in common, whether it were spoils of war or not; also that if any kingdom should fall to one of them by capture or inheritance it would be ruled by them jointly; and that each would give help to the other in all difficulties, and each avenge the other as if he were his brother. Then they went off marauding with five and twenty ships, and followed that way of life for three years. Harold was the better liked of the two. Edward the Confessor sent fo r Harold to help in subduing a revolt. Harold told William that he meant to give help to the king. William said: ‘I don’t want to part from my troops.’ Harold answered: ’Then we must divide up our wealth and troops between us.’ William said: ‘You can go off if you like, but there’ll be no dividing of wealth at present.’ Harold answered: ‘It’s one thing or the other—either we divide the wealth, or we fight for it.’ In the end, the dividing of the wealth did take place. It is said that there was too warm a friendship between Harold and Queen Maud, but when William charged Harold with this, he denied it. Afterwards they made the plan, Harold and Maud, that 1 T h is is W altheof, E arl o f th e M idlands a n d late r o f N o rth u m b ria ; h e w as n o t related to th e sons o f G odw in, n o r d o English sources m en tio n him in connection w ith th e events o f 1066, th o u g h he later con sp ired ag ain st W illiam , an d w as executed by him in 1076.

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he should ask for the hand of the daughter of William and herself. And so it was arranged that he should be betrothed to her before he left for England, and the wedding was to be held at Rouen in twelve months’ time. And they parted friends, for the time being.

n After the death of King Edward, Harold Godwinsson took the kingship in England, just as it is told in the Saga o f King Harald Sigurdarson; and there too it is told how Tosti and Harold’s other brothers wished to share the throne of England with him, and got nothing. Then Earl Tosti went to Denmark to visit his kinsman King Svein, and there he was warmly welcomed. Tosti asked King Svein whether he had any claim to the throne of England. The king answered: ‘I will not deny that I used to think I had; but I now think that it is in excellent hands when my kinsman King Harold rules it—for he and I are first cousins through his mother.’ Tosti answered: ‘Many people in that country, and in his council too, are saying that I and my brothers really own a third of the country.’ The king answered: ‘Then I don’t think Harold is the sole king in England, if you own one third.’ Tosti said: ‘ My wish would be that you should now set out and conquer that land. I and my brothers will bring you troops and all the strength we have, if you will be leader; in this way, if you conquer the land you will make us kings over it, and we will pay you tribute and hand the country over to you if you need it.’ The king answered: ‘I must think over my answer to th at’, and said that Tosti was to spend the winter with him. But Tosti wanted to know the answer to his errand as quickly as possible. m On one occasion in the course of the autumn, the king was riding to a feast, and Tosti with him. It so happened that they halted on the way at the side of a bridge, and ate. The king had a sheep-dog which was going with them; this dog was given a small

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loaf of bread. The dog ran out on to the bridge, and saw his shadow in the water, and it looked to him as though there was another dog in there, also holding another loaf in his jaws. He jumped off the bridge and dived into the water, and thought he would take the loaf from that dog. Now when he got into the water, he then lost everything, and came back to dry land with empty jaws. The king now said to Tosti: ‘Did you see how things went with my dog just now?’ Tosti said: ‘I wasn’t watching very carefully.’ The king said: ‘The dog thought he saw in the water another dog with bread in his jaws, and thought he could manage to take that loaf away from him; but he was jumping at his shadow, and neither of them brought bread back to dry land. I know that that’s how things will go with me if I go to England now—I will be seeing my own shadow. And even if I did come back here safely, it might be that King Harald [of Norway] would be here ahead of me, and then I would not keep this kingdom either. Now I’ll give you my decision on your case, which is that I will not come to England. Here in Denmark I shall be king for as long as God wills, for it is more fitting that I should never be covetous for more. But you, Tosti, ought to go to King Harald [of N or­ way]*’ And so he did.

IV

Despite many ominous presages and dreams, Harald Sigurdarson, King o f Norway, is persuaded to launch an expedition against England in support o f Tosti's claims. Now to take up the tale again—King Harald put to sea with his host; he made his first landfall in the Orkneys, and left his daughter Maria there, and many other people too. From there the king sailed to England, and came to Scarborough. The wind then dropped to a calm, and they lay there that night. The men were woken by words spoken from the sky, and to each one it seemed as if it was just above his own ship. They all looked upwards and

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saw a troll-woman riding a wolf in the sky; she had on her knees a trough full of blood and human limbs, and she spoke these three verses: ‘Now the king’s been coaxed here To come from east to west, Many bones of bravest men Are brought to be my booty. The slaughter-cock now seeks here (And sees enough to please him) The meat your fleet shall furnish— I follow always after! I follow always after! ‘The mighty fells are falling, Folk are sick and stricken, Days of peace are passing, Enmity now springs ’mid men. I will treat you as I’ve treated Other tribes, who mourned and moaned: A wolf comes south to swallow you— I swear this fate is fated! I swear this fate is fated! ‘I have shown it shining red, My shield, on fields of battle; King, the troll-wife truly sees, To trouble turns your journey; The foul black hag flings human Flesh to gnashing jaws, Till this gaping wolfish gullet With ghastly blood is flooded! With ghastly blood is flooded!’ The king asked Tosti whether he was awake. Tosti answered: ‘I’ve just been woken by this song.’ The king said: ‘Do you think it of much importance?’ ‘None at all,’ said Tosti. ‘Then your heart is dead within you’, said the king, ‘for I have been in many fights, and I never saw such omens before.’ They went up on land, and it was at the place called Cleveland that they went ashore.

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The king asked Tosti: ‘W hat is the name of that hillock there, to the north?’ Tosti said: ‘N ot every hillock is given a name of its own.’ The king said: ‘Yet this one does have a name, and you are to tell it me.’ Tosti said: ‘I t ’s the burial mound of Ivar the Boneless.’ 1 The king answered: ‘No man has won victory in England who first came to land by that mound of his.’ Tosti said: ‘It’s now part of the old heathen ways to believe in things like that.’ v They went on land with their host, but some stayed to guard the ships. The brothers Earl Moru-Kari and Earl Valthjof, and their brother-in-law Aki, gathered a host as soon as they heard of the Norwegian host. They met at the river which is called the Ouse, and a very fierce battle began there and went on till nones. By then Eystein had advanced against the English army and had killed Aki the Tall; then he saw that Moru-Kari had got round to the rear of Tosti’s army, and so he and his men then took MoruKari in the rear. And when M oru-Kari saw that, he bade his men turn to their rear and defend themselves well and valiantly; but in the end his men broke and took to flight and fled down to the river, and M oru-Kari was slain there,* and the greater part o f his men too. Many too were drowned. Meanwhile King Harald had captured Earl Valthjof; and Tosti then went to the king and said: ‘ Let him go the same way as his brother.’ The king answered: ‘You can kill those you capture yourself, but I ’ll have my own way about him.’ The king said to Valthjof: ‘I will give you quarter if you will swear never to fight against me, and to send me news the same day if ever you know of any plot against me.’ Valthjof said: ‘I will not swear anything, and I will not, to save my own life, cease to help my brother Harold as long as I can; but I will send you news if I hear of any plot against you, and that 1 A V iking o f p a rtic u la r ferocity, said to have ravag ed th e n o rth -e a st o f E n g lan d c. 870, a n d to hav e established his ow n p etty k in g d o m n e a r Y o rk . * M o rc a r w as n o t in fact killed in this b attle.

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I will do to save my life. But no oath will 1 swear, for it looks to me as if Tosti means me to have little inheritance.’ The king gave Valthjof his freedom to go wherever he wished. Tosti said: ’A foolish move, to let a man go free who thinks himself too good to give you his oath.’ The king said: ‘I think his promise worth more than your most formal pledge.’ Tosti said: ‘Let us go with our host to Lundun,1 and lay the land waste with fire and sword, and give no quarter to any man, neither to women and children.’ This was done; and after that they made their way south along the coast, and beached their ships at Rafnseyrir.* They could find neither men nor cattle in the villages ahead of them, for they had all fled. One day, as the king was lying in harbour, a woman rode down to the shore and asked to see the Norwegian king. The king told her who he was. She said: ‘I have a tent which I wish to give you.’ Tosti said: ‘Accept the tent, and bum it afterwards.’ The king said: ‘Bum what is given to yourself—though I’ve not noticed that your fellow-countrymen are offering you any marks of honour! ’ He gave orders that the tent should be set up; and everyone said the same thing: that they had never seen so fine a tent. The king asked her what reward she wanted for the tent. She answered: ‘I have two sons, and I wish them both to live.’ The king said that there would be quarter granted to her sons, and to her cattle too, if he knew where they were. Then she rode off. But the king slept in that tent that night., In the morning the king told Thjodolf the poet that he thought Tosti had spoken truly in saying that the tent was not free from spells, ‘for I used to think I could see seven plans to meet any possibility up to now. but now I seem unable to think of any plan at all’. Thjodolf answered: ‘Nevertheless we will follow your plans.* The king said: ‘The plans are to be changed now. We shall go on shore with two thousand men, but six thousand are to stay by 1 P robably n o t L o n d o n , b u t a tow nship in Y o rk sh ire founded by Iv a r th e Boneless. 1 N e ar th e m o u th o f th e H um ber. *

e

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the ships; their leaders are to be the brothers Eystein and Nikulas. Tosti is to come with me.’ What the king did then was to go ashore and burn the district. And when he came to the town which is called York, the towns­ men sent him word that they were willing to yield themselves to his power; they confirmed this with oaths. The king agreed to this; he then went back to his ships. Next day he was to go ashore and take possession of the town with his men, and the king slept on board ship that next night. VI

But when day came, the king made ready to go ashore to the town. They had shields and helms, but no mailcoats, except one hundred of the men, those who were the most active. Tosti said: ‘It shows great lack of judgment to go almost unarmed to meet one’s enemies—for you need not put your trust in Englishmen, if they once get you in their power. You have been changed for the worse, king, by that woman’s gift of the tent.’ The king said: ‘Are you afraid now, Tosti?’ He said: ‘I think it much more frightening that you should be out of your right mind than that verses should have been spoken against us.’ ‘All the same, I shall have my own way,’ said the king. Tosti was so much disliked by the Norwegians that no one would listen to him. On the same evening that King Harald went to the ships with the host of Norwegians, Harold Godwinsson came with an over­ whelming host from the south of England to York, and there he got reliable information about the Norwegians. And as soon as the men of that town knew that their king had come, they broke all their promises to the Norwegians and joined King Harold’s host. And as soon as morning came, he rowed his host down to Steinfurd Bridge, which is now called Stamford, and there each side advanced towards the other. King Harald Sigurdarson said: ‘What one sees inland there, is it a whirlwind or the dust of horsemen?’ Tosti answered: ‘It certainly is the dust of horsemen. Now you can see the loyalty of the men of this country.’ The king halted his host and waited, and he soon saw that an

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overwhelming host of armed men was coming towards them. At that moment a man came riding up and asked for King Harald, and he was told where to find him. Tosti said: ‘Now there’s my brother Valthjof—kill him! ’ The king forbade that. Valthjof rode up to the king and greeted him and bade him turn back to his ships as fast as he could—‘because my brother King Harold is coming against you with an overwhelming host; you wouldn’t have strength enough to meet him even if you were all armed, far less now’. The king said: ‘Farewell, Valthjof, and give your brother loyal help. You have kept your word well.’ Then the king asked them what plan they ought to follow, and there were many who said the king should go back to the ships to rejoin his army. The king answered: ‘I’ve never yet fled without a fight, and I won’t do so now, for I would grudge the English the triumph of my being hunted down as well as slain.’ He then sent some men to the ships to tell Eystein Heathcock that he needed men. And he had them sound the trumpets, and drew up his men in battle order. The English host had by then halted too and drawn up their men in battle order. Indeed, there was little more than two bowshots’ length between them. At this moment three men rode up to the Norwegian host and asked whether Earl Tosti could hear their words. One of them, the one who was speaking, was not a large man, of slight build, and the most courtly of men; he had a gilded helmet, and a red shield with a hawk inlaid on it in gold. The second was the biggest and strongest and noblest-looking of all men. The third was a tall man, slender at the waist and broad at the shoulders; he rode last. Tosti bade him say what he wanted. The horseman said: ‘ Your brother Harold sends you greetings in God’s name and offers you terms of peace.’ Tosti said: ‘How much more does he offer now than before?’ The horseman said: ‘He thinks you deserve a ldwer offer now than before, in view of all that has been done.’ Tosti said: ‘We will pay nothing in compensation for that. And what is his offer now?’ The horseman said: ‘His offer is that you should have one-fifth

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of England, and that he should claim no compensation for his brother [Moru-Kari]; but whatever harm you have done in this country, that, he says, you must pay compensation for.’ Tosti said: ’I’ll not accept this.’ The horseman said: ’Then I will not conceal what he said was the utmost he could offer—he would rather offer you one-half of England than that you two should fight over it in battle, and the title of king to go with it.’ *W hat then will he offer King Harald of Norway?’ The horseman said: ’As he was not content with his own king­ dom, I’ll give him a piece of England, two yards long—or as much more as he is taller than the average man. He’ll get nothing more here, for I’m under no obligations to him.’ Tosti said: ’These offers have been too slow in coming. I have often heard the Norwegians say that if I were offered a good offer I would desert their cause at once, but that’s not going to happen now.’ The horseman said: ‘You yourself then, so the king says, must take all the responsibility.’ And thereupon he turned and rode away. King Harald Sigurdarson was riding a black horse with a white blaze on it, and he was telling his men how they were to fight while Tosti and the horseman were talking. A t that moment the horse fell beneath the king, and this happened three times while he rode him. The king said: ‘Why must this happen now, brother Olaf?*1 Tosti laughed and said: ’Do you think it’s King Olaf making your horse fall beneath you?’ He said: ‘If he does turn against me, it’s you more than anyone that I have to thank for it.’ He dismounted, and went on foot among his men. The king then said to Tosti: ‘Who was that horseman who was talking with you?’ Tosti said: ‘My brother King Harold.’ ‘Why were you so slow to say so?’ said the king. Tosti said: ‘I did not want to betray him, when he rode here trusting to my loyalty.’ The king said: ‘He is a courtly man, and looks a good one; he 1 T h e a u th o r o f this tale represents th e luck o f H a rald as b o u n d u p w ith th e p rotection o f his dead h alf-b ro th er, K in g O la f th e Saint.

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has his foot well set in the stirrup now, yet he won’t rule the land for long. Who were those on either side of him ?’ Tosti said: ‘One was Helgi, Henry’s son, and the other is called Bcejar-Leif.’ 1 ‘I hardly expected this man here’, said the king, ‘for I know the man; and I would not have come to make war here if I had known he was alive.’ Tosti said: ‘It’s of no importance to us.’ Meanwhile King Harold Godwinsson was asking Leif: ‘Who was that, that big man whose horse fell beneath him ?’ Leif answered: ‘That was the king of the Norwegians.’ The king said: ‘He is a grim-looking man, and not likely to live long, for I would guess that his days are now over.’ The King of Norway had arranged his men in this way: the men who had shields were to stand in a circle, all facing outwards. ‘And those who are shieldless are to stand on the inside and strike from behind the others.’ And when the hosts drew together, the Englishmen encircled the band of Norwegians. Herning had told them his true name and all that had happened to him, before he went into the battle. The Englishmen then raised their battle-cry. Then King Harald Sigurdarson spoke this verse: ‘Forth we went in fighting trim, No coats of mail against keen blades. Helmets shine; I haven’t mine. Far off in ships our finery lies.’ ‘Now this is a bad verse’, said the king, ‘and I must improve on it— ‘We’ll not creep when weapons In warfield’s clash are crashing, But do true Battle’s bidding Where bucklers’ circle curves. In meetings where the metals ring That maid bejewelled bade me Often keep my crest aloft— Now clatters steel on skull.’ 1 Helgi, son o f E arl H enry o f G loucester; and H erning, hero o f this tale an d enemy o f H arald o f N orw ay, u n d er a false nam e. Il

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King Harald Sigurdarson told his men not to fight strenuously, but to stand firm and not to panic. The English then began the attack, but the Norwegians defended themselves so well that they could not break through. Then King Harold Godwinsson said to Helgi, Henry’s son: ‘W hat plan should we follow if their stand is to be broken? For we can soon expect a host to reach them from their ships, and it won’t be easy to attack them then if we can’t get the better of them now, while they are only a handful of men.’ ‘We ought to attack them ’, said Helgi, ‘as boldly as we can; and if we can’t then get the better of them, then we ought to turn back, and it may be that they will think we are fleeing; and then they will break ranks and pursue us, whereupon we must turn and face them as quickly as we can.’ And so they did. And when the Norwegians saw that they were turning back they went in pursuit, and when the others turned on them they could not manage to make a stand for the second time. Now the fight grew bloody, but where King Harald and Tosti were standing no one could break through. Then King Harold Godwinsson said to Herning: ‘W hat has become of your marksmanship and your strong shooting, if you don’t shoot the king when you can see him well?’ Herning said: ‘ I won’t deny that I can see him well, but I do not dare, in the face of King Olaf, to shoot him down.’ 1 ‘I don’t know what you came to the battle fo r’, said King Harold, ‘if you won’t do anything. Now you shoot him enough to mark him clearly for me, for I do dare to shoot him down, in the face of King Olaf.’ Herning then shot at the king with a slotted arrow, and it pierced his jaw, and the arrow-head locked itself in his flesh. The king cut the arrow out at once, but because of this it was easy to see the king clearly. Harold Godwinsson then shot King Harald through the throat. Then the king sat himself down. He said to the poet Thjodolf: ‘Come here, sit down, and hold my head up for me; for a long time I’ve helped you to hold your head high.* Tosti went up to the king and asked whether he was wounded. 1 H em ing’s life h ad been m iraculously saved by th e sp irit o f K in g O la f th e S aint, and he therefore h ad sw orn to ta k e only a m in o r p a r t in H a ra ld ’s d ea th .

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The king answered: ‘It was a small dart they sent me, but I should think that it wasn’t meant to be useless when it was taken from the forge. I want you to come to terms with your brother, and I will accept that piece of the kingdom which was offered me this morning.’ Tosti said: ‘It’s the same old man who will give both of us our lodgings tonight.’ 1 The king said: ‘You mean that old man from whom I never would accept a lodging.’ And thereupon the king breathed his last. The English then cried their battle-cry; and they said that the king of the Norwegians had fallen, and offered terms to Tosti. Tosti grasped the war-standard, and said they would find out that not all the chieftains of Norway had fallen ‘so long as I can fight’. And Tosti now kept up the fight for a while. Then Herning said: ‘Sire, why aren’t you urging me to shoot now?’ King Harold Godwinsson said: ‘Because I do not want to be the cause of my brother’s death.’ Herning answered: ‘It’s strange that you are willing to let your men be slaughtered; and I will give him a gift, if you do not forbid it.’ The king said: ‘I shall not now seek to avenge this man, even if some serious injury is done him.’ Then Herning shot Tosti in the eye. Then Tosti said, as he felt the shot, ‘This has marked me for G od', and died at once. King Harold then offered terms of peace to the Norwegians.

vn William the Bastard was ruler of Normandy, as has been said before. He learnt of the expedition of King Harald [of Norway] to England; he sent messengers throughout his domains and gathered a great army. Then he made a speech to them, and said: ‘It is known among you how the friendship between Harold Godwinsson and myself turned out; now I have been told that an 1 i.e. O din, in his capacity as god o f those slain in b attle.

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army is on the march against his kingdom, and now I want to set out with this army and avenge him, if anything has happened to him. But also there could be no better time than this for taking vengeance on Harold for the insult he gave me, and for laying claim to England, because, even if he has won the victory, all the most valiant of his host will be wounded and battle-weary.’ But on the day that William rode out from Rouen, his queen came up to him, when he was already on horseback, and clasped his stirrup and wanted to speak to him; but he set spurs to his horse, and she fell in front of the horse, and the hoofs of the horse came down on her, and she met her death at once. He said: ‘“ Things must get worse before they get better” , and we can expect that our journey will go well.’ Thereupon they went on board ship and sailed to England, and he began to ravage as soon as he came to land. It is said that he ordered that the body of Ivar the Boneless should be burnt before he began to ravage. King Harold Godwinsson heard of this and gathered men about him; his host was at that time very much wounded. The king told them to leave the country if they thought they were not fit enough to give him aid, but they all said that they wanted to give him their aid. The king said: ‘Abandon me, if you do not aid me loyally.’ But they said they would never part from him. He drew up his army to meet William, and there there began a hard battle. This was nineteen days after King Harald Sigurdarson had fallen. There was heavy toll among the Englishmen, for there were many in that battle who were not fit for anything. They fought the whole day long, and at evening King Harold God­ winsson fell. But Herning and Helgi and Valthjof drew up their men in a wedge-shaped array, and there no one could break through. Then William said: ‘I’ll give you quarter, Valthjof, if you will swear loyalty to me; then you shall have your inheritance and earldom.’ Valthjof answered: ‘No oaths will I swear to you, but I will promise you my loyalty, if you do this.’ ‘On these terms we can make peace,’ said William. Valthjof asked: ‘W hat choice would these men, Helgi and Herning, have if they made peace?’ William answered: ‘Helgi shall have his inheritance and earl­ dom; he must swear loyalty to me, and give me his advice on any

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matter of which he knows more than I. But Herning is to remain with me, and if he is true to me I shall value him more highly than all others.’ Valthjof asked them: ‘What course will you two follow?’ Helgi answered: ‘Let Herning decide.’ Herning answered: ‘I know that you Englishmen must think it high time that this fighting should stop, though to me there is no pleasure in living on after this battle; but yet I do not wish to keep you in danger any longer than you wish—but I expect that for Valthjof the quarter will be brief.’ Valthjof answered: ‘It’s better to take a fall than never to trust anyone. No more men must die for my sake.’ They ceased fighting and accepted the terms of peace. Then William was chosen as king, and they rode away from there to London. Valthjof asked leave to go home, and obtained it, and rode off with ten men. The king watched them go and said: ‘It’s unwise to let a man ride away free who would not swear any oath to us; ride after him, and kill him !’ And so they did. Valthjof dismounted, and forbade his men to make any defence. He went to a church and was slain there; and there he is buried, and men think him a fine man. vm On the next night after King Harold Godwinsson fell, an old cottager and his wife drove their cart to where the slain were lying, so as to strip the slain and get themselves riches. They saw there a great heap of the slain; they saw there a bright light. They talked it over together, saying that there must be some holy man there among the slain; they now began to clear the bodies away at the spot where they had seen the light, and they saw a man’s arm sticking up out of the heap of the slain, and on it there was a large gold ring. The farmer gripped this arm and asked whether the man was alive. He answered: ‘I’m alive.’ The old woman said: ‘Clear the corpses off him ! I think it’s the king.’ They helped the man to sit up, and asked whether his wounds could be healed.

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The king said: ‘ I don’t deny that I could be healed, but you two couldn’t manage it.’ The old woman said: ‘We must risk it.’ They picked him up and laid him in the wagon and drove home with him. The old woman said: ‘You must rip out the muscles of the cart-horse and rip its ears off, and then if men come to look for the king’s body at your house, you are to say that I am mad, and that your horse was torn by wolves.’ They cleaned the king’s wounds and bound them up, and hid him in their house. Shortly afterwards King William’s men came there, and asked whether he had carried King Harold to his house, alive or dead. The old man said: ‘That I’ve not done.’ They answered: ‘ It’s no use lying about it, for the trail of blood leads to your house.’ The old man said: ‘I don’t feel that that king of yours is much of a loss; I feel that the cart-horse is more of a loss, which the wolves tore last night, when the battle took place.’ They answered: ‘That may well be true, for we saw a torn cart-horse here, but still we want to come in here and make a search for whatever is to be found.’ The old man said: ‘There’s no end to my troubles; my wife has gone mad because she heard the trumpet-calls and the battle-cry.’ But they wanted to go in all the same. But when they came inside, the old woman was sitting by the hearth and eating char­ coal; and when she saw the men she jumped up and clutched a sword, and swore an oath, and said she would kill them. They went outside, laughing at her, and went home, leaving it at that, and told King William that they had not found King Harold’s body. But the old woman and her husband nursed the king in secret until he was healed; then the king sent the old woman to find Herning, and she told him where the king was. Herning said: ‘It would be just as well now, gammer, if you had all your wits.’ The old woman said: ‘I was not mad at all.’ The next day after this Herning came to the king, and theirs was a most joyful meeting; they talked all that day. Herning urged the king to travel up and down the whole country and

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gather an army: ‘And you will quickly win the country back from William.’ The king said: ‘I can see that that might be done; but then too many men would be turned into oath-breakers, and I do not wish that so much evil should arise through me. Now 1 will imitate the example of King Olaf, who after he had suffered defeat off Wendland would not go back to his kingdom, but chose rather to go out to Greece, and served God there as long as he lived.1 1 will have a hermit’s cell built for me in Canterbury, where I will be able to see King William in church as often as possible; and the only food I will have shall be what you bring for me.’ Herning agreed to this. The king gave the old man and his wife ample money, and then went into his hermitage. He stayed there for three years without anyone knowing what sort of man he was, except Herning and the priest who heard his confessions. But one day when Herning came to see Harold, he told him that he had taken an illness which would bring him to his death. And one day, as King William was sitting at table, the sound of bells rang through the whole town, and the king asked why they were ringing so beautifully. Herning answered: ‘I think that a monk has died, the one named Harold.’ ‘Which Harold is that?’ said the king. ‘Godwin’s son’, said Herning. ‘Who has been keeping him alive?’ said the king. Herning answered: ‘I have.’ ‘If that is true’, said the king, ‘then it means death for you. But we wish to see his body.’ He then went into the cell where the body lay; it was stripped bare, and then they all recognized King Harold. The body was fair and handsome; and the men noticed a sweet odour there, so that all those who were beside him understood that he was a man of proven holiness. The king then asked Herning what he would be willing to do to save his life. 1 O laf T ryggvason leap t ov erb o ard w hen defeated a t th e naval b a ttle o f Svold, A.D. 1000. R u m o u rs o f his escape persisted, an d his clerical b io ­ graphers declared th a t he ended his days in a m onastery in G reece o r in Palestine.

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Herning asked:4What are you asking of m e?’ The king said: ‘That you should swear this oath to me—that you will be as loyal in every way to me as to King Harold, and follow me as you did him.’ Herning said: ‘I would rather die with him than live with you. But I could have betrayed you long ago, had I wished.’ ‘It is quite true’, said the king, ‘that there would be one fewer among the most valiant men in England if you were killed. I will now make you this offer: that I should make you the mightiest baron in England, and that you should be one of my bodyguard and be the leader of them all; or else, if you have no wish for that, I will give you three pounds every twelvemonth for your reward, and you can live wherever you please in England.’ Herning thanked the king for his offer and said: ‘I will accept to live in England, but from now on it does not please me to own any goods; but this I do ask you, that you should grant and give me this very cell, and I shall end my days here.’ The king was silent for a long while, and then said: ‘Since this request is made with a pure heart, it will be granted.’ Then William gave orders that King Harold’s body should be clothed in a king’s shroud and that his burial should be carried out as honourably as might be, and he was laid to rest with the highest honours. Shortly after this, Herning went into the cell already mentioned, and served God there till his old age; and he went blind in the end, and died there in that hermitage. And there ends what there is to tell of Herning.

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Hreidar the Halfwit (Hreiðars påttr heimska) I

T here was a man called Thord; he was the son of Thorgrim, the son of that Hreidar whom Glum killed. Thord was a man of small build, and good-looking. He had a brother who was called Hreidar, and he was an ugly man, and hardly fit to look after himself where wits were concerned; he was the most swift-footed of men, gifted with great strength, and of gentle temper; he would always stay at home, whereas Thord travelled abroad and had become a courtier of King Magnus,1 and was well thought of. One day when Thord was making his ship ready in Eyjafjord his brother Hreidar came by, and when Thord saw him he asked him why he had come. Hreidar answered: ‘I wouldn’t, unless I had business with you.’ ‘What do you want then?’ said Thord. ‘I want to go abroad’, said Hreidar. Thord said: ‘I don’t think travelling would suit you. I would rather suggest that you should take everything our father left for us both—and that’s half as much again as I’m taking on my journey.’ Hreidar answered: ‘I would certainly be a fool’, said he, ‘if I accepted this share-out and so was left to fend for myself and do without you to look after me. For then anybody at all could get our money away from me, as I don’t know anything about managing money, useful though that is. And you wouldn’t find your position easier if I were to attack or cause any other trouble 1 M agnus Olafsson the G ood, K ing o f N orw ay 1035-47.

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to these men who would be lying in wait to wheedle me out of my wealth, and if afterwards I were beaten up or hurt as a result of my actions. And anyway, the truth of the matter is that you’ll find it hard to make me stay behind when I want to go.’ ‘That may be so’, said Thord, ‘but don’t talk about your journey in front of other people.’ He promised not to, yet as soon as the brothers had parted, Hreidar told everyone who would listen that he was planning to go abroad with his brother. And they all blamed Thord for taking an imbecile abroad.

n And when they were ready they put out to sea and had a good voyage, and came to Bergen, where Thord at once asked for news of the king; he was told that King Magnus was in the town, having arrived there shortly before, and that he wished to be left undisturbed that day, for he thought he needed rest, having just arrived. Men soon noticed Hreidar, for he stood out strikingly among other people; he was tall and ugly, and not unwilling to talk to those he met. Early next morning, before men were awake, Hreidar stood up and shouted: ‘Wake up, brother! Sleepers learn little! I have some news, and I’ve just heard a strange noise.’ ‘W hat was it most like?’ said Thord. ‘Like a beast bellowing’, said Hreidar, ‘and it roared out loudly, but I’ve no idea what sort of a sound it was.’ ‘Don’t show such amazement’, said Thord. ‘That must have been the blowing of a horn.’ ‘W hat does that mean?’ said Hreidar. ‘It’s always blown for a moot or the launching of a ship.’ ‘W hat does “ m oot” mean?’ said Hreidar. ‘That’s where hard lawsuits are always judged’, said Thord, ‘and discussions held on any matter which the king thinks should be laid before the people.’ ‘Will the king be at the moot now?’ asked Hreidar. ‘I think he’s sure to be’, said Thord. ‘Then I’ll have to go there’, said Hreidar, ‘for I want to come straightaway somewhere where I can see as many men as possible and all at the same time.’ 120

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‘That’s where we begin to differ’, said Thord. ‘The longer it is before you go somewhere where there are crowds, the better pleased I’ll be. I’m not going to go at all.’ ‘It’s no use talking like th a t’, said Hreidar. ‘We are both going to go; you would not be any happier if I went alone, and you’ll never manage to stop me from going.’ Hreidar ran off; and as Thord saw that he was set on going, he went after him, but Hreidar was drawing ahead of him fast, and there was a very long gap between them. And when Hreidar saw that Thord was making slow progress, he said: ‘It is indeed true that it’s a bad thing to be small, for then one has hardly any strength; one might still have a good turn of speed, but I think you weren’t gifted with much of that either. You’d be none the worse off if you were less good-looking but could keep up with other people.’ Thord said: ‘I’m not so sure that I get on worse for not being hefty than you do with all your strength.’ ‘Then, brother, let’s clasp hands to test our grip’, said Hreidar. And so they did, and walked along in this way for a while; and it turned out that Thord’s hand began to go numb, and he let go, thinking that it did not seem right to take to wrestling on account of Hreidar’s stupid antics. Hreidar then went running on ahead, and then came to a halt on some hillock and stared very fixedly—from there one could see the crowd where the moot was being held. And when Thord caught up with him, he said: ‘Now let’s both go together, brother.’ And Hreidar did so. m When they reached the Assembly, many men recognized Thord and greeted him warmly; and the king got to hear of this, and so Thord at once presented himself before the king and greeted him fittingly, and the king accepted his greeting cordially. The brothers had been separated as soon as they reached the As­ sembly, and Hreidar was being hustled to and fro and roughly pushed about. He was talkative and laughed a great deal, and men thought this added to the amusement of encountering him, and so his advance was continually blocked. 121

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The king asked Thord for news, and after that asked him which of the men who had made the journey with him he would wish should have places at court. ‘My brother has made this journey’, said Thord. ‘That man will be a fine fellow’, said the king, ‘if he is like you.’ Thord said: ‘He is not like me.’ The king said: ‘He may still be a fine man. What is the greatest difference between you?’ Thord said: ‘He is a man of big build. He is ugly and really not much to look at, hefty and strong, and a mild-tempered man.’ The king said: ‘Yet he may still be gifted in many ways.’ Thord said: ‘He never was called a clever fellow in his youth.’ ‘I care more about what he’s like now’, said the king. ‘He is capable of looking after himself, isn’t he?’ ‘Not altogether’, said Thord. ‘Why did you bring him abroad?’ said the king. ‘Sire’, said Thord, ‘he owns a half-share of everything with me, but he has no use for wealth and would not know how to handle money himself, and the one thing he has asked for was to come abroad with me; and it seemed to me unfair that he shouldn’t have his own way over one thing when he lets me have mine over so many. I also thought it likely that he would get good luck from you if he were to meet you.’ ‘I should like to see him ’, said the king. ‘So you shall’, said Thord, ‘but just now he’s been hustled away somewhere.’ The king now sent someone to find him; and when Hreidar heard say that the king wished to meet him, he went strutting along and blundering into almost everything in his path, for he was not used to a king asking to see him. This was the way he was dressed: he was wearing ankle-length breeches,1 and had a grey cloak round him. And when he came into the king’s presence, he fell on one knee before him and greeted him fittingly. The king answered him with a grin, and said: ‘If you have any business with me, then quickly tell me whatever it is you want; other men too will be needing to talk with me afterwards.’ Hreidar said: ‘To me my business seemed very urgent; I wanted to see you, O king.’ 1 L ong loose trousers o f a type considered childish an d ridiculous. (Cf. the description o f Ref, p. 164.)

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‘Are you pleased now’, said the king, ‘now that you’ve seen m e?’ ‘Yes, certainly’, said Hreidar, ‘but I don’t feel that I see you plainly enough yet.’ ‘Then how ought we to be?’ said the king. ‘Would you like me to stand u p ?’ Hreidar said: ‘I would like th a t’, said he. The king said, once he was standing up: ‘Surely you now feel that you’re seeing me plainly?’ ‘Still not plainly enough’, said Hreidar, ‘though it’s now very nearly right.’ ‘Well then’, said the king, ‘would you want me to take my cloak off?’ ‘I certainly would’, said Hreidar. The king said: ‘All the same, we ought to talk it over a bit first. Many of you Icelanders are very crafty fellows, and for all I know you may think this a way of making me look a fool. I want to rule that out now.’ Hreidar said: ‘No one would be capable, O king, of making you look a fool, or of lying to you.’ The king then took off his cloak and said: ‘Now take a good look at me, as closely as you like.’ ‘So I shall’, said Hreidar. He walked round and round the king, and murmured the same words again and again. ‘Very fine, very fine!’ said he. The king said: ‘Have you now seen me as well as you want to ? ’ ‘Certainly’, said he. The king asked: ‘Then how do you like the look of me now?’ Hreidar answered: ‘My brother Thord did not exaggerate when he spoke of all that is fine in you.’ The king said: ‘Would you be able to find any fault in what you see? Something that is not common knowledge?’ ‘I don’t want to find fault’, said he, ‘and indeed I can’t straight away; for anyone who could take his choice in the matter would choose to look exactly like you.’ ‘You’re saying a great deal’, said the king. Hreidar said: ‘With others there would be danger in flattery’, said he, ‘if the opinion I formed about you and told you just now did not match the reality.’ The king said: ‘Find some fault, if only a small one.’

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‘Well then, the greatest one, sire’, said he, ‘is that one of your eyes is set a little higher than the other.’ ‘Only one man has found that out before’, said the king, ‘and that was my kinsman King Harald.1But now, to make this match of ours a fair one’, said the king, ‘you must stand up now and take your cloak off. I want to see you.’ Hreidar threw his cloak off, and he had dirty great paws—he was a big-handed, ugly man—which had been washed pretty carelessly. The king took a good close look at him, and then Hreidar said: ‘Sire’, said he, ‘what fault do you think you can now find in m e?’ The king answered: ‘It’s my opinion that there never was bom or bred an uglier man than you.’ ‘Such things do get said’, said Hreidar. ‘But then is there any­ thing’, said he, ‘which might be a good quality in me, as far as your judgment goes?’ The king said: ‘Your brother Thord did say you were a mildtempered man.’ ‘That’s true enough’, said Hreidar, ‘and I ’m sorry it should be so.’ ‘However, you will lose your temper’, said the king. ‘Blessings on you, sire, for saying so!’ said Hreidar. ‘And how long will it be till I do?’ ‘I don’t know for certain’, said the king, ‘but most likely during this winter, by my guess.’ Hreidar said: ‘Blessings on your words!’ The king said: ‘Are you at all clever with your hands?’ Hreidar said: ‘I’ve never tried, so I can’t tell.’ ‘Yet I would think it not unlikely’, said the king. ‘Blessings on your words!’ said Hreidar. ‘As soon as you say so, so it will be. I think I need lodgings for the winter.’ The king answered: ‘My household is open to you, but I think it would be more suitable for you to take lodgings somewhere where there are rather fewer people.’ Hreidar answered: ‘That’s indeed true’, said he. ‘Yet there would never be so few people that something wouldn’t crop up by way of conversation—above all, anything looking like a joke. But I’m a man who doesn’t watch his words, and all sorts of 1 H a ra ld S igurdarso n th e Stern, K in g o f N o rw ay 1046-66. A t first h e reigned jo in tly w ith M agnus, w ho was his nephew .

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things are always coming to my lips. Now it might happen that people might carry tales to others about my words, and jeer about me, and twist what I did or said in fun into something really horrible. So I think it wiser, for choice, to stay near someone who could keep an eye on me, such as my brother Thord (even if there are quite a lot of men there), rather than to be somewhere else where there would be fewer men, but where there would be no one to patch up any blunders/ The king said: ‘Have it your own way then. You and your brother can both come to court, if you like that best.’ A t once Hreidar ran off when he heard these words of the king’s, and told every man who would listen to him that his going to meet the king had turned out very well; he also especially told his brother Thord that the king had given him leave to come and live at court. Then Thord said: ‘Then get yourself decently fitted out with clothes and weapons, for that’s the only proper thing; we’re not short of money for it, and many men are better disposed towards someone well turned out. Indeed, it is even more difficult to be properly fitted out in the king’s quarters than elsewhere, but then you will be less of a laughing-stock to the courtiers.’ Hreidar said: ‘Your guess is wide of the mark if you think I’m going to dress up in fine clothes.’ Thord said: ‘Then we’ll cut plain woollen cloth for them.’ Hreidar answered: ‘That’s more like it’, said he. So this was done as Thord wished, and Hreidar let himself be talked into it. He now wore clothes of woollen cloth and cleaned himself up, and he at once looked quite another man; he now still appeared an ugly man, but also a brave-looking one. However, when he and Thord were at court, the men did at first behave in such a way that Hreidar had to put up with a good deal of annoy­ ance from them, and they chaffed him in all sorts of ways when they found that he was not unwilling to talk; he retorted as best he could, and they got great amusement out of their encounters with him. And he would always laugh at what they said, and he could outdo any of them by his cleverness, whether in banter or, above all, in feats of strength. And so, as he was so strong and sturdy, and as they found that he never showed that he was ruffled, the courtiers let all this drop. Hreidar now remained at court for a while.

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IV

At this time King Magnus and King Harald were joint rulers of the country; but there had arisen a cause of dissension between the kings, because a courtier of King Magnus had killed a courtier of King Harald, and so arrangements were made for a peace-meeting where the kings might meet and settle the affair. Now when Hreidar heard that King Magnus was to go to a meeting with King Harald, he went to find King Magnus and said; ‘There is something’, said he, ‘which I would like to ask of you.’ ‘What is it? ’ said the king. Hreidar said: ‘To go to the peace-meeting. I’ve not travelled much, and I feel most curious to see two kings at once in the one place.’ The king answered: ‘It’s true, as you say, that you’ve not travelled much, but I’ll never feive you permission for this journey, because it would not be fitting that you should fall into the clutches of King Harald’s men. It would end in trouble, either for you or for the others, and I fear that the anger you’re longing for might then come on you in full force—and I’d be best pleased if that could be avoided.’ Hreidar said: ‘Those are fine words! I shall certainly go if I think there’s a hope of my losing my temper.’ The king said: ‘Will you go if I don’t allow it?’ Hreidar said: ‘None the less, for all that.’ The king said: ‘Do you think you’ll find it just the same to deal with me as with your brother Thord, from whom you always get your own way?’ Hreidar answered: ‘I’ll find it far easier to deal with you, just because you are wiser than he.’ The king now saw that he would go, even if he forbade it, and even if he were not to travel among the king’s retinue; and be thought that it would not be a good thing if Hreidar got himself other companions elsewhere, and also that there was no way of knowing how he might be treated if he was all on his ow n; so now he chose rather to give him permission to go with him, and Hreidar was given a horse to ride. And as soon as they had set out on their way, Hreidar set off at

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a gallop, without the least intention of restraining himself, and the horse foundered under him. And when the king heard of this, he said: ‘That’s a piece of good luck! Take Hreidar back home—he is not to come on this journey.’ He answered: ‘Even if the horse has foundered, that won’t hinder my journey; my swift-footedness would be little use to me if I couldn’t manage to keep up with you.’ Then they went on again; and many of them spurred their horses along beside him, thinking it good sport to put his swift­ ness to the test, since he himself had boasted of it' so openly. But it turned out that he wore out every horse which was set to pace him; and he said he would not deserve to come to the meeting if he couldn’t keep up with them. As a result of this many of them were now deprived of their horses.

v And when they came to where the kings were to meet, King Magnus said to H reidar: ‘Now stay in attendance on me and keep close beside me, and do not leave me. I have rather an uneasy foreboding of what will happen when King Harald’s men arrive and see you.’ Hreidar said that it would be as the king wished; ‘and the nearer I am to you, the better pleased I am.’ The kings now met, and they went off to talk together to discuss their affairs. But King Harald’s men got a sight of Hreidar going by; they had heard tell about him, and thought it sounded promising. And while the kings were talking, Hreidar went in among the band of King Harald’s men, and they took him to a wood which was not far off, and hustled him roughly along, and now and then they would shove at him. The game did not always go the same way; sometimes he was swept along like a straw, but sometimes he stood against them as firm as a rock, and they staggered back from him. Now the game went on and on, with them making the play rather rough for him; they would let fly at him with their scabbards and the shafts of their axes, and the studs on the sheathings touched his head, and he was grazed by them—but even so he behaved as if he thought it the greatest fun,

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and laughed all the time. And when this had gone on for some time, the game was not growing any gentler on their side. Then Hreidar said: ‘Now we’ve had a good game for a while, but it would be wisest to stop now, because I’m beginning to get bored. Now let’s go and see your king, for I want to see him.* ‘That will never be’, said they, ‘such an ugly-looking devil as you to see our king! We’ll see you in hell first! ’ He was not much pleased at this, and thought he could see that it would be as they said; and so, now matters had reached this point, he felt cut to the heart, and he lost his temper. He laid hands on the man who had attacked him most and had played most roughly with him, lifted him into the air, and threw him down head first, so that the brains were dashed out and the man was dead. The rest thought that with such strength he could hardly be a human being, and they now fled from the fight and went to tell King Harald that his retainer had been killed. The king answered: ‘Then kill the man who has done it.’ ‘That is no easy m atter’, they said. ‘He has got away by now.’ And now to speak of Hreidar—he went off to find King Magnus. King Magnus said: ‘Do you know now what it’s like to lose your temper?’ ‘Yes’, said he, ‘I know now.’ ‘How did you like it? ’ said the king. ‘I noticed that you used to feel curious about it.’ Hreidar answered: ‘I didn’t like it at all’, said he. 'W hat I most longed for was to kill them all.’ The king said: ‘I always did have a feeling that you would be unpleasant when angry. Now I’m going to send you to Upplond to Eyvind, a vassal of mine, so that he can keep you safe from King Harald; for I cannot rely that you will be protected if you stay at court, as he and I are about to meet, and my kinsman Harald is a wily man and one who is hard to guard against. Come back to me later, when I send for you.’ So Hreidar went on his way till he came to Upplond, and Eyvind took him in, at the king’s bidding. The two kings had already reached agreement over the matter which had come between them before, and so that was settled; but here they could reach no agreement. King Magnus thought that these men had been the first to do wrong and were to blame 128

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for the whole affair, and he thought that the courtier had died as one outside the law; but King Harald claimed compensation for the death of his courtier. And now they parted, without reaching any agreement.1 VI

No long time passed before King Harald learnt what had become of Hreidar. He then prepared his journey and came to Upplond, to Eyvind’s, having sixty men with him. He arrived there early one morning, meaning to come on them unawares; but it did not turn out that way, for Eyvind had felt certain beforehand that he would come, and was never unprepared at any time. He had secretly gathered a band of men, who were in the woods close by the farmstead; Eyvind was to give them a signal if King Harald came, and if he thought he needed help. It is said that on one occasion, before King Harald came, Hreidar asked Eyvind to give him silver and a little gold. ‘Are you skilful with your hands?’ asked Eyvind. Hreidar answered: ‘So King Magnus told me, but I can’t know any more about it, because I’ve never tried. But he must have said so because he knew, and what he says I believe.’ Eyvind said: ‘You are a strange fellow’, said he. ‘Now I’ll get the materials for you; you must give me back the silver if it gets spoilt in the working, but if not, keep it for yourself.* Hreidar was shut away in an outhouse and stayed there at his metal-working. And before the thing Hreidar was working on was quite made, King Harald came. And now, as I said before, Eyvind was by no means unprepared, and he set out a fine feast for the king. Now as they were sitting over their drinking, the king inquired whether Hreidar was there—‘And you shall have my friendship in return, if you give this man up to us.’ Eyvind answered: ‘He’s not here now’, said he. ‘I know that he is’, said the king. ‘There’s no need for you to deny it.’ Eyvind said: ‘Even if that were so, I do not make such a 1 C om pensation fo r a slaying need n o t b e paid if the victim was an outlaw o r h ad done anything w hich w ould render him liable to outlaw ry. U n p ro ­ voked violence, such as th e rough handling th e courtiers gave to H re id ar, w ould b e such a case, so K ing M agnus quite rightly held th a t H re id a r’s o u t­ b u rs t w as, in effect, justifiable hom icide.

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difference between you and King Magnus as to hand over to you a man whom he wants to have protected.’ After which he went out from the hall. But as he came outside, Hreidar was battering at his door and shouting that he wanted to get out. ‘Keep quiet!’ said Eyvind. ‘King Harald has come here and wants to kill you.’ Hreidar went on battering none the less, and said that he wanted to meet the king. Eyvind then saw that he would break the door down, so he went up and opened it and said: ‘Devil take you then’, said he, ‘if you go out to meet your death.’ Hreidar walked into the hall and went up to the king and greeted him and said: ‘Sire, turn away your anger from me, since for many reasons I am well suited to you for doing anything you want done (even if it is no pleasant task)—some trial of courage, or whatever it may be. And I will not be lazy over anything you may send me to do. Here now is a precious thing which I want to give you.’ He laid it on the table in front of him, and it was a pig made of silver and gilded. Then the king said, as he looked at the pig: ‘You are skilful with your hands, so skilful that I’ve hardly ever seen anything of this type as well made as this.’ Now it was passed round from hand to hand. The king said that he would make peace with him. ‘It will be right to send you out on mighty tasks; you are a strong man, and not easily frightened, or so I think.’ By now the pig had come round to the king’s place once again; he then picked it up and looked again more closely at the work­ manship, and then he saw that there were dugs on it and that it was a young sow. He hurled it away at once, seeing that it was made as a taunt,1 and said: ‘Trolls take you, body and bones! Stand up, men, and kill him!* But Hreidar picked up the pig and went out and went away from there at once; he went to find King Magnus and told him what had happened. The men, on the other hand, stood up and 1 A b o ar-p ig could b e a sym bol o f valour, b u t a sow w as u n m ista k ab ly insulting. F u rth e rm o re , H a ra ld ’s fa th e r h a d been nick n am ed 't h e S o w ’, so th e allusion w as d o u b ly offensive.

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went out after him meaning to kill him; but when they came out there was Eyvind facing them, and he had a great crowd of men with him, so that they could not pursue Hreidar. So Eyvind and King Harald parted on these terms, and the king was not at all pleased. And when King Magnus and Hreidar met, the king inquired how things had gone. Hreidar told him the truth, and showed him the pig. King Magnus then said, as he looked at the pig: 'This is a most skilful piece of craftsmanship, but my kinsman Harald has taken vengeance for much slighter insults than there is in this. You are by no means lacking in courage, and a crafty fellow after all.’ VII

Hreidar now stayed there for some while with King Magnus, and on one occasion he came to talk with the king, and said: ‘I would like it, O king, if you would grant me what I am about to ask of you.’ ‘W hat is that?’ said the king. ‘It’s this, sire’, said Hreidar, ‘that you would listen to a poem which I’ve made about you.’ ‘Why not?’ said the king. Now Hreidar recited the poem, and it was a very strange one— most odd at first, but better and better as it went on. And when the poem was ended the king said: ‘This seems to me a strange poem, yet good at the end. This poem must be the same sort of thing as your life; it was at first an odd, singular kind of thing, but yet it will be better and better the longer it lasts. In the same way too will I choose a reward for the poem. There is an island off the coast of Norway which I’ll give you; it has good grass on it and is good land, though it’s not large.’ Hreidar said: ‘There I’ll be a link between Norway and Ice­ land.’ The king said: ‘I don’t know how that would turn out. But this I do know, that many men will be ready to buy the island from you and give you money for it; but I think it would be more advisable that I should buy it for myself, so that it would not become a bone of contention between you and those who wish to buy. Also it will not now be suitable for you to stay here in Norway much longer, for I think I foresee the fate King Harald

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would wish for you if he were to be sole ruler—as he will be, if you stay in Norway for long.’ Then King Magnus gave him money for the island, not wanting him to risk his life there, and Hreidar went back to Iceland and lived in Svarfadardal in the north and became a powerful man. His life turned out much as King Magnus had guessed, for it was better and better the longer he lived, since he himself for the most part had deliberately put on the odd ways he had had in his earlier days. He lived in Svarfadardal till his old age, and many men are descended from him. And here ends this tale.

Hromund the Lame (Hrómundar þáttr halta)I I T here was a man called Eyvind the Haughty who came to Iceland as a settler with Ingimund the Old; he settled in Blondudal, west of Skagafjord. He did not wish to outlive Ingimund, and so killed himself. In his old age he had a son by his slave-woman, and he was called Hromund. Hromund married Audbjoig, the daughter of Mar, the son of Jorund Neck; she was a slave-woman’s daughter. For a long time Hromund lived with M ar at Masstadir; when M ar fought Ingimund’s sons over the Hjallaland estate, Hromund killed Ingimund’s son Hogni, and because of this was banished from all the district lying between Jokul river in Skagafjord and the H rutafjord river. Hromund got a wound in the leg and was always lame after that, so he was nicknamed Hromund the Lame. He bought land at Fagrabrekka to the west of the Hrutafjord river and lived there for a while, and he raised large earthworks round his farm. He was a very fine man, and strong too.

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He had a son called Thorbjora the Thin, whose mother was Audbjorg. This Thorbjom married Gudrun, daughter of Thorkel of Kerseyrir, who had settled the land to the south of the Hrutafjord Ridge; their son was Thorleif, who was known as Hromund’s foster-son. Hromund had another son, whose name was Hallstein. All these kinsmen were big strong men. The son of Thorkel of Kerseyrir was called Thorir, and he was the brother of Thorbjom’s wife G udrun; he lived at Melar. His daughter was called Helga, and she was a fine woman to look at, and a very outstanding character. n One summer news came that a Norwegian ship had come in to land a t Bordeyrir in Hrutafjord. The captain was called Swindling Helgi, and his brother was called Jorund. They were bullying, foul-mouthed men, and people would do little trading with them but preferred to go outside the district to trade with other ships. People had heard it said that they were Vikings and robbers and had nothing but stolen goods. And as summer passed by, people would not go to them. Then Helgi said: ‘Now I would urge you all not to show such churlish tempers, but to make yourselves more likable to the men of this district, and get yourselves lodgings with the farmers; for it seems to me that it will be hard to get these people to bow, and that they won’t like aggressive ways. Also I’ve heard that these men round here are strong and very violent.’ And when half a month had gone by, three men had found lodgings. Then Helgi said: ‘The men round here aren’t eager to take us in, and there’s some excuse for that. Let’s try once more to fit in our ways with theirs.’ And they did so, but as things turned out no men would take them in. On one occasion Thorir of Melar rode down to the ship and met Helgi. Helgi welcomed him most joyfully and asked whether he wanted to buy anything; Thorir said that he had great need to buy, ‘for my house is lying in ruins.’ Helgi said he would offer him the chance to buy as much as he wanted, ‘and then you take us all in as your lodgers for the winter. ’

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He said he was not prepared to do this—‘I’ve nol ack of goods to offer in exchange, and you are not said to be popular men.’ So he refused to take them in. Helgi said: ‘People round here are making a great show o f their dislike for us. But yet it’s very likely that you won’t get away from us quite unharmed, farmer Thorir, if you don’t take us in.’ Thorir said that the reason for it was that they had few friends. Helgi answered that he could set his own terms if he was willing to take them, ‘but if not, it’s not certain whether you’ll go back the way you came.’ And since that was how things stood, farmer Thorir said: ‘Well, as you ask me so pressingly to do this, you must swear an oath on behalf of you all, according to the law of our land, that you will commit no injustice this winter against any man, nor any offence that would be punishable by law, neither against me nor against others, neither against my household nor against my neighbours. I’ll house you, but you must find your own food.’ Helgi said: ‘ You shall have your way, farmer Thorir.’ Then they moved into his home, but ate in a building on their own and slept there. This action of Thorir’s was not much liked by men of the district, and he himself thought he had taken on too much. When the Norwegians had been there some while, the captain and the farmer’s daughter began to meet frequently together, and this led to talking and kissing and cuddling, tenderly and lovingly, and there followed the consummation of their unlawful love. So Thorir said: ‘Helgi, I want you to observe your promise to me, and not to bring shame and dishonour on me; stop your talking with my daughter Helga, and keep your oath to me.’ Helgi said that he was of opinion that the love between him and Helga would not be driven out so quickly, ‘and there will be no dishonour to you, farmer Thorir, if I ask for the woman in marriage, according to the right laws of the land in force here, and with whatever money you please.’ And as the farmer thought the chances of getting compensation were uncertain, the men being such bullies, he decided that he would give his daughter to Swindling Helgi; their marriage took place early in the winter, and after that Helgi and his men were not so unpleasant to people—if nothing was done to annoy them.

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m It happened in the course of the winter that Hromund lost five stud-horses at once, and they were all very valuable beasts. There were many guesses made as to what could have become of the horses. Hromund’s sons said they thought some men must have eaten them, as there was no news of them anywhere and yet these horses had not been in the habit of straying. Hromund said: ‘It’s been told me about these Norwegians that they have more meat on their tables than one would expect them to have got by their trading; also they have a bad name in every way. Now there are two choices before us: either to say nothing about this, and then no harm will come of it, or else to take the risk of what may happen and go to get what is ours.’ They said that the latter was certainly the better choice, and that the only proper course was to seek their rights. Then Hromund went to see Skeggi of Midfjord, who at that time lived at Skeggjastadir in Midfjord and was chieftain over all that district, and discussed with him how they ought to set about it. Skeggi answered: ‘I ’ve heard say that it’s not easy to take these Norwegians by the horns, and I promise you my protection, whatever may happen.’ Then Hromund went away; and shortly afterwards Hromund and his sons went to Melar, and they and their men numbered ten in all. Some of the Norwegians were already out of doors, and others came out as they were riding up to the farm; the greetings were curt on both sides. Then Hromund said: ‘This is how things are, Helgi’, said he. ‘Some horses of mine have disappeared, and it’s my opinion that they’ve turned up here.’ Helgi said: ‘Nobody has ever said such things to us before, and this shall be repaid with worse enmity—with the worst we can do to pay you back.’ Hromund said: ‘It’s a habit with Vikings to get wealth by robbery and pillage, but it’s a habit with thieves to conceal it afterwards.’ Hromund tried to find out from Thorir whether it was true and what he knew of it. Thorir said he had no idea whether it was

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true or false. After this Hromund told his men to summon the Norwegians,1and one man of his was picked to summon each one of them; after this the summoning proceded, and the Norwegians used violent language, and were fuming with rage, and said they would take vengeance for this. No wounds were dealt to anyone in this encounter; and, with affairs in this state, they parted. IV

Hromund and his men now rode home. And when they had been at home a little while, Hromund said: ‘We ought to increase our men by three, and mend our earthworks, which have badly crumbled away, and behave as if they were going to act on their threats of evil; indeed, they will not let all the enmity they threatened come to nothing.’ After this they placed the management of all their lawsuits in the hands of Skeggi of Midfjord, and these cases were brought up at the General Assembly, and all the Norwegians were outlawed for horse-stealing. Hromund and his sons stayed at home during the Assembly; but the Norwegians made ready to leave Melar, and spoke with friendliness to Thorir. They were meaning to go to get their ship ready, and their path lay past Fagrabrekka, and Hromund and his sons were standing outside. Helgi said: ‘It would be a fine thing if it turned out that these earthworks did you no good, and if you got least help from them just when your need was greatest. I might well see you covered in blood, Hromund, and your sons too.’ Hromund said: ‘We don’t doubt your hatred, but we mean to see to it that a few people get bloody noses before we are laid in the dust.’ Then they parted, for that time. v One morning it happened that a raven perched on the skylight and croaked loudly. Hromund was in bed, and he awoke and spoke a verse: 1 i.e. lay a form al charge ag a in st th em b efo re w itnesses, a n d call o n them to answ er it a t th e next Assem bly.

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‘At crack of dawn he’s croaking, The corbie dark—I hearken! He drinks blood that blades shed, Bids men wake to slake him. So once shrieked the havoc-hawk, Harshly cried his tidings, When fighters’ deaths were fated— Falcon of slaughter-sport!’ And again he said: ‘Loud he shrieks, hail-laden, By lake of corpses’ gore— Gull of the waves out-welling From wounded who lie dying. So once croaked the carrion-cuckoo, Craving, weary, prey at daybreak, When birds of war their beer desired: Blood from gashes flooding.’ And a little later the farmer’s servants got up, and did not take care to shut the gate in the earthworks behind them. That very morning the Norwegians came, and they were twelve in all; they came shortly after the servants had gone out from the earthworks. Then Helgi said: ‘Things are going well now. Now let’s go in past the earthworks, and bear in mind those degrading words, and deeds too. I want these earthworks to do them no good at all, if I have my way.’ Thorbjom the Thin woke at the sound of their talking and jumped up at once and ran to the door which formed the entrance of the sleeping-hall, and looked out through a hole which was cut in the door, as was the way in the old days. He recognized the Norwegians and saw that they had come in past the earthworks, and he went in again at once. Then Hromund said: ‘What news is there, son?’ Thorbjom said: ‘I think the Norwegians have come in beyond the earthworks in a hostile mood, and mean to take vengeance for the things we said to them. But I don’t know how they succeeded in getting past the earthworks.’ Hromund leapt up then and said: ‘ Up with us then! Let’s drive

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these worthless wretches out and win praise for ourselves and act as brave men should.’ He urged his sons on, and also his foster-son Thorleif, who was fifteen years old and tall and bold-looking; the latter prepared to go out with the rest, but the women said he was too young, and declared that he was certain to be killed and that Hromund was too old to put up any defence. Then Hromund spoke a verse: ‘In the past, in distant days, My date of death was fated; Make ready for the rush of war, O raiser of shield’s level field! Little reck I, though sword lick (Lithe twig clasped in hero’s grasp) At ruddy shield. Already Reckoned is man’s life-span.’ Then the kinsmen took up their weapons, all four of them: Hromund the Lame and Thorleif, Thorbjorn the Thin and Hallstein—and they went out by way of the doors which were at the end of the house, and climbed up above the crosstree, but locked the doors which were in the side walls. The Norwegians ran up to the wall and cast spears at them very valiantly; for Helgi was a most excellent fighter, a tall, strong, and courageous man; he was now very angry, and indeed they were all hard and difficult men to deal with. They said that Hromund and his companions would have reason to remember them, and that they would bear in mind the name of thief. Hromund said that they would have had enough to do if they had made their attack against the earth­ works. He and his companions defended themselves quite as much by sheltering behind their shields and the beams as by weapons, but the Norwegians hurled stones and spears and pressed their attack most fiercely, while the others defended them­ selves very well, there being only four of them, and threw down great stones from above. And though Hromund was elderly he went forward bravely and dealt powerful blows, and with the help of his sons and his foster-son Thorleif they felled six Norwegians —and in that fight Hromund and his foster-son Thorleif fell too. The Norwegians who were still alive all ran out from the earth­ works, but Thorbjorn the Thin ran after them and chased all

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those who were still alive out of the earthworks. But as Thorbjom was trying to close the gate behind them, Helgi cast a spear at him and it pierced him in his middle. He himself took the spear out of the wound and sent it back at the Norwegians, and it pierced through the middle of Jorund, Helgi’s brother. Helgi snatched him up as soon as he fell to the ground, and threw him over his shoulder and ran out from the earthworks, and with him went all [four]1 of his companions who were still alive. Hallstein ran after them, and they ran till they came to a brook which is beyond Fagrabrekka. There Helgi tried to cross with his brother Jorund, but there were high banks on both sides and his strength was failing, and Jorund slipped from his shoulder, and then he was dead. Then Helgi turned back, and at that moment Hallstein came up with him and cut off his hand, and then the Norwegians fled. Hallstein busied himself over Jorund and found that he was dead, and that that was the reason he had slipped down, and seeing this, Hallstein turned back. Then he discovered that his father was dead, and Thorbjom the Thin too; Thorleif was still breathing, and he carried him indoors. The women asked him how things had gone, and he told them how it was. Helgi and his men put out to sea that very day, and were all drowned off Skridensenni. Thorleif was healed and lived at Fagrabrekka and was considered a fine farmer, but Hallstein went abroad and went to visit Olaf Tryggvason. The king preached the true faith to him, and this was an easy task. Then Hallstein became one of the king’s men and stayed with the king ever after, and he was a very famous fighter and fearless in attack, and was highly esteemed by King Olaf. And it is said that he fell on the Long Snake,12after he had first put up a stout defence and so earned himself good fame; and this is the end of the tale about him. 1 The manuscript here reads ‘five’. 2 King Olaf Tryggvason’s warship, on which he fought in his last battle*

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The Scoffing Verses ( þ o r le if s þ á ttr ja r ls s k á ld s )

I

N o w there is a tale to tell of an adventure which took place early in the reign of Hakon, Earl of Hladir,1 and which shows by what black arts, incantations, and sorceries he was put to shame—as indeed he richly deserved, for his wicked ways and his scorn of the true God had become a heavy burden to many men, and did them irreparable harm in body and soul. It happened in his case, as it does for so many, that when the day of retribution comes it is not easy to escape it; for it is the nature of our Enemy that when he feels that he has a man completely in his power, and when that man does not place any hope in God, then the Enemy first deludes and seduces him with the guileful wiles of his accursed cunning into leading a life of loathsomeness, but then, when that man’s days in the world have dwindled away, he is drowned in the dark dungeon of dire torments, in wailing and woefulness, world without end. n At that time Asgeir Redcloak was living at Brekka in Svarfadardal; he was a powerful man, and came of a great family. 1 i.e. Jarl H akon Sigurdarson, ruler o f Norway from c . 976 to 995. He was the last great upholder of heathenism, being succeeded by the Christianizing Olaf Tryggvason.

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His wife was called Thorhild; she was a wise woman, and well liked, and a very strong character. They had three sons, and they all seemed likely to do well. The eldest was called Olaf and nick­ named Cudgel-Breaker; the second was Helgi the Bold, and they both play a greater part in other sagas than in this one. Thorleif was the name of their youngest son; he soon showed his worth and accomplishments, and was a man of many skills and talents. He was a good poet. He was brought up as foster-son by Skeggi of Midfjord, his mother's brother, at Reykjar in Midfjord, until he was eighteen years old. Skeggi loved Thorleif dearly and fostered him most carefully; men did say that Skeggi must have taught Thorleif more of the old heathen lore than other people knew.

Thorleif was outlawed fo r manslaying, and decided to go trading in Norway; his fam ily and foster-father gave him a ship, cargo, and crew. m Now Thorleif put out to sea, and the winds were favourable, and his ship came to land at the Vik in the east; at that time Earl Hakon was at the Vik. Thorleif went up on shore and had his ship unloaded. He went to find Earl Hakon and greeted him. The earl gave him good welcome and asked him his name, his family, and kindred, and Thorleif told him; the earl also asked eagerly for news from Iceland, and Thorleif told him without delay. Then the earl said: 'T he fact is, Thorleif, that I want to have your wares and oarsmen.* Thorleif answered: 'W e have a small cargo, my lord, yet there are other buyers who would suit us better. You must let us have freedom to sell our goods and wares to whoever we please.* The earl thought his answer haughty and was very displeased by his words, and on these terms they parted. Thorstein now went back to his men and slept the rest of that night, and in the morning he got up, went to the market-place, inquired about good buyers, and spent the rest of the day bargaining with them. And when the earl heard of that he went down with a crowd of men to Thorleif’s ship, and had all the men on her seized and 142

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bound. Then he looted all the wares there and took them for him­ self, and had the ship burnt to cold ashes; and after that he had a beam thrust across between the booths, and gave orders that all Thorleif’s companions should be hanged from it. Then the earl went off, and his men too, and he took with him the whole cargo that Thorleif had had and divided it up among his men. But in the evening when Thorleif came back, meaning to go and see his men as he always did, he saw the signs of this deed and of how things had gone for his comrades; and he felt certain that Earl Hakon must have been responsible for this evil deed, and asked for a clear account of these happenings. And when he had heard the truth about these events, he spoke a verse: ‘Hurtful shudders fill my heart, Harm this armed man feels— On level coast is cast away His carack and its bark. My beast-of-rolling-billows They burnt. I may be yearning (Who knows?) the score to settle For scattered ashes cold.’

IV

It is said that after this incident Thorleif got himself a passage in the ship of certain merchants, and that they sailed south to Denmark, and that he went to find King Svein, and stayed with him that winter. And when he had been only a short while there, it happened one day that Thorleif went into the king’s presence and asked him to listen to a poem he had made in his honour. The king asked whether he was a poet. Thorleif answered: ‘That is as you shall judge, sire, when you have heard it.’ The king bade him recite it, and Thorleif then spoke a set of forty verses, of which this is the refrain: Guarded by God’s favour, Who guides the sky’s bright light, He often dyed his dagger red, Dread king, in English blood.

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The .king praised the poem very highly, and so did all who heard it, and they said it was well composed and nobly spoken. In reward for this the king gave Thorleif a ring which weighed half a pound, and a sword which was worth a quarter of a pound of gold, and told him to remain a long while with him. Thorleif went to a seat in the hall, and thanked the king well. And so some time went by. But it was not long before Thorleif grew so very gloomy that he could hardly be bothered to take his place by the table to drink, or to sit by his comrades on the bench. The king quickly noticed this, and had Thorleif sent for, and said: ‘W hat is the reason for your gloom, Thorleif, that you can hardly be bothered to behave as you should in our company?’ Thorleif said: ‘You must have heard it said, sire, that a man who asks another about his troubles is then bound to help him in them.’ ‘First tell m e’, said the king. Thorleif answered: ‘I’ve composed some verses this winter, which I call “ Verses on a W oman” , and which I’ve made in honour of Earl Hakon—for in the language of poetry “ woman” is a term for that earl. Now what is making me gloomy is that I have not received your permission to go to Norway and present this poem to the earl.’ ‘You shall most certainly have that permission’, said the king. ‘First, however, you must promise me that you’ll come back to me as quickly as you can, for I don’t want to be without you because of your talents.’ Thorleif gave this promise; and now he got himself a passage and went north to Norway, and never halted till he came to Thrandheim. v At that time Earl Hakon was living at Hladir. Thorleif now dressed himself in the clothes of an old beggar-man and fixed a goat’s beard to his chin, and got himself a large bag and put it under his beggar’s clothes, and so arranged it that it would look to everyone as if he were eating food which in fact he was throw­ ing into the bag, for the opening of it was up near his mouth, under the goat’s beard. After this he took two crutches, and there

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was a spike sticking out from the bottom of each; and now he went on his way till he came to Hladir. It was at that time the evening before the Yule feast began, and the earl had taken his seat, and so had many mighty men whom the earl had invited to hold the Yule feast with him. The old beggar-man went unhesitatingly into the hall, but as he came in he staggered violently and stumbled heavily with his crutches, and turned to the other beggars and sat down on the straw at the far end. He was rather surly towards the beggars and treated them pretty roughly, and they did not take it well when he went for them with his stick. They ran away from him, and all this gave rise to such noise and uproar that one could hear it all over the hall. When the earl noticed this he asked what was the cause of this shouting. He was told that a beggar-man had come, one who was so bad-tempered and vicious that he would stop at nothing. The earl ordered that he should be brought before him; but when the old man appeared before the earl, he was very curt in his greeting. The earl asked him his name, his family, and birthplace. ‘ My name is an unusual one, my lord, for I’m called ScurrilousScoffer, son of Shrieker, and my family come from the Sorrowdales in cold Sweden. My nickname is Scurrilous-Scoffer the Home-Thruster. I’ve travelled widely and visited many chieftains in their homes. I’m now getting to be so very old that I can hardly tell my age, because of my many years and failing memory. I have often heard tidings of your power and prowess, prudence and popularity, condescension, generosity, and all your accomplish­ ments.’ ‘Why are you so much harsher and harder to get on with than other beggar-men?’ He answered: ‘W hat’s so surprising in that, if a man who has to go short of everything but misery and wretchedness and has nothing of all he needs, and has long slept out of doors in forests and woods—if a man like that grows angry, what with old age and everything else, when he once had been used to honour and happi­ ness in the courts of the noblest chieftains, but now is hated by every worthless little peasant! ’ The earl said: ‘Are you a man of some talents, old fellow, as you say you have lived among chieftains?’ The old man said it might well be true that there had once been 145

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something in that—‘when I was in my younger days. But things reached that stage when, as they say, for every old man his dotage must come. They say too that it’s hard for a hungry man to gossip, and I won’t gossip with you, my lord, unless you make them give me something to eat—for I’m so overcome with old age and hunger and thirst that I certainly won’t be able to keep on my feet any longer. It’s Very unlike a true chieftain to question strangers about this, that, and the other, but never give a thought to what is best for a man, for everyone is made in the same way and so needs food and drink as well.’ The earl arranged for him to be given fine food, as much as he needed. This indeed was done; but when the old man sat down at table he set to and ate unhesitatingly and emptied all the dishes which were nearest to him and which he could reach, so that the serving-men had to go back and fetch food a second time. It looked to everyone as if he was eating it, but in fact he was throwing it into the bag, as has already been mentioned. The men were now laughing heartily at this old fellow. The serving-men said that he was not only tall and stout in the waist, but he also knew how to eat a lot. The old man took no notice of this, but went on as before.IV VI

When the drinking-tables had been cleared away, old Scur­ rilous-Scoffer went up to the earl and said: ‘My thanks to you, my lord, for this—though you keep bad serving-men, who do everything worse than you tell them. But now I would be glad if you showed me your condescension, lord, and listened to a poem which I have made in your honour.’ The earl said: ‘Have you ever made any poems to chieftains before?’ ‘Yes, in truth, my lord’, said he. The earl said: ‘This is turning out just like the old saying: “ W hat the old say is often good” . Recite the poem, old fellow, and we will listen to it.’ Then the old man began the poem and recited it as far as the middle, and the earl was thinking there were praises in each verse, and was noticing that the exploits of his son Eirik were also men­ tioned in it. But as the poem went on it had rather a strange effect

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on the earl, for so violent an itching and prickling ran all over his body and most of all on the thighs, that he found it quite unbear­ able to sit still; and so very peculiar was the effect of this itching that he got men to scratch him with combs wherever it could be reached by this means, and where it could not be so reached, he got them to take a piece of sackcloth and tie three knots in it, and set two men to dragging it to and fro between his thighs. Now the earl was beginning to feel displeased with the poem, and he said: ‘Can’t you recite anything better, you damnable old man? I think these might be called scoffing verses just as much as praises. Turn them into something better, or else take payment for them.’ The old man made fine promises about it, and then began certain verses which are called the Fog Verses and come in the middle of the Earl-Scoff, and this is the beginning of them: Fog is rising in the east. Storms are gathering in the west. Hither will come at last Cloud raised by warrior host. By the time he had finished the Fog Verses it was growing dark in the hall, and when the hall was in darkness he took up the Earl-Scoff again; and as he recited the third and last part of it, every weapon which was in the hall sprang into movement with­ out human agency, and this brought death to many. The earl fell in a faint; but the old man vanished, the doors being locked and the bolts undrawn, and it grew light, again in the hall. The earl came to his senses and realized that this scoff had stung him to the quick; he also saw results of this deed, for the whole of the earl’s beard had fallen out, and the hair on one side of the parting, and they never grew again. Then the earl had the hall cleared and the bodies carried out. By now he felt sure that this must have been Thorleif and that there was no other old man but he, and that he must be thinking that he had paid him back for the deaths of his men and the loss of his wealth. The earl lay sick with these grievous injuries for the whole of that winter and much of the summer.

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vn As for Thorleif, it must be told how he made ready to travel south to Denmark, and as provisions for his journey he took what he had fooled them into giving him in the hall. And how­ ever long he had been on the road, he made no break in his journey till he came to see King Svein, who welcomed him with open arms and asked him about his travels. And Thorleif told him everything, just as it had happened. The king answered: ‘Now I’ll add something to your name, and call you Thorleif Earl’s Poet.’ Then the king spoke this verse: ‘The great lord’s openly disgraced, His glory shorn by Thorleif. Men now spread this scoff abroad (No small one!) ’gainst the earl. To that proud and lordly prince Poetry his foe has brought, And paid the ruler ruthlessly For wreck of lion-of-the-breakers.’ Thorleif told the king that he was longing to go back to Iceland, and he asked the king’s permission to go back as soon as spring came; and the king said that it should be so. ‘I’ll give you a ship to celebrate this name-giving, together with men and tackle and as much freight as you need.’ Now Thorleif spent the winter there in high favour, and in the first days of spring he made his ship ready and put out to sea, and had favourable winds, and brought his ship to land at the mouth of the River Thjorsa. Men say that Thorleif married that autumn, and took as wife the woman called Aud, daughter of that Thord who lived at Skogar under Eyjarfjoll, a worthy and very rich farmer who was descended from the race of Thrasi the Old. Aud was a woman of very strong character. Thorleif spent the winter at Skogar, but next spring he bought land at Hofdabrekka in Mydal, and lived there from then on.

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vra Now to take up the tale about Earl Hakon again—he recovered from the worst of his injuries (though some men do say that he was never the same man as before), and now the earl was eager to take vengeance on Thorleif for this humiliation, if he could. He now called upon those in whom he had placed his faith, Thorgerd Horgi’s Bride and her sister Irpa,1to send such sorcery out to Iceland that it would be more than enough for Thorleif, and he brought them rich gifts and sought to know the future from them. And when he had obtained knowledge which pleased him, he ordered that a drift-log should be taken and a wooden man made out of it; and through the witchcraft and spells of the earl, and the trollish power and spirit of prophecy in those sisters, he had a man killed and the heart taken out of him and set in that wooden man; and then they put clothes on him and gave him a name, calling him Thorgard, and filled him with such great increase of devilish power that he walked and talked among men. Then they put him on a ship and sent him out to Iceland, and his errand was to kill Thorleif Earl’s Poet. Hakon had equipped him with a halberd which he had taken from the temple of those sisters, and which Horgi had owned. Thorgard came out to Iceland at the time when men were at the General Assembly; Thorleif Earl’s Poet was at that Assembly. It happened one day that Thorleif was coming out of his booth when he saw a man coming across the Oxa River from the west. He was of tall build and had an evil look about him. Thorleif asked the man what he was called, and he gave his name as Thorgard, and he at once addressed Thorleif in sneering words. When he heard this, Thorleif tried to draw the sword which was the king’s gift and which he wore at his side, but at that same moment Thorgard lunged with his halberd at the middle of Thorleif’s body and ran him through; but when he felt this blow he struck at Thorgard, but the latter plunged down into the ground, leaving nothing to be seen but the print of his feet. 1 T w o p rotecting a n d luck-bringing giantesses said to have been w o r­ shipped by H ak o n .

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Thorleif twisted his kirtle around him, and spoke this verse: ‘From the field the fighter bold, False-formed man, has vanished (A killer full of courage!) By covert paths—where’s Thorgard? Being wise in wizardry, This warrior through the stone has gone; But henceforth for ever he In hell shall have his dwelling.’ Then Thorleif went back into his booth and told men about this happening, and everyone thought it very striking. Then Thorleif threw down his kirtle, and then his guts fell out; and there Thorleif lost his life in the midst of his high fame, and everyone thought him a great loss. They all felt certain that this Thorgard was nothing but the sorcery and witchcraft of Earl Hakon. After this, Thorleif was laid in a burial-mound; his mound stands to the north of the place where the law-makers meet, and is still to be seen. His brothers were a t the Assembly when all this happened, and they arranged Thorleif’s burial as was fitting, and held a funeral feast for him according to the old custom; but his father Asgeir had died shortly before this. After this, men went home from the Assembly, and this news spread far and wide through Iceland, and was thought very striking.

DC

At this time there lived near to the Assembly Plains a man who was called Thorkel; he had great wealth in livestock, and things were always comfortable in his household, but he was not a man of high rank. His shepherd was called Hallbjom and was nick­ named Tail. Hallbjom got into the habit of often coming to Thorleif’s mound and sleeping there at nights and keeping his flock close by it. The idea kept on coming into his mind that he would like to contrive to make some poem in praise o f the dweller in that mound, and he always spoke of this as he lay on the mound; but because of the fact that he was no poet and had

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never mastered that craft, he could find no verses, and he never got further in his versifying than the opening, which was: ‘Here lies a poet.’ But more than that he could not say. It happened one night, as so often, that he was lying on the mound and working at this same task of seeing whether he could add anything to his praise of the mound-dweller. He then fell asleep, after which he saw the mound opening and a man coming out, a tall, well-built man. He climbed the mound and went up to Hallbjom and said: ‘You are lying here, Hallbjom, and wishing earnestly for some­ thing which has not been granted you—the power to compose verses in praise of me. Now there are two possibilities: either this accomplishment is destined to be yours and you will receive it from me, and in higher degree than almost anyone else (it’s quite likely that this may come to pass); or else there is no point in your struggling over this any longer. Now I ’ll recite a verse to you, and if you succeed in understanding the verse and knowing it by heart when you wake, then you will become an outstanding poet and will compose praises for many chieftains, and then this accomplishment must be destined to be yours.’ Then he tugged Hallbjom’s tongue, and spoke this verse: ‘Here lies a poet, prince among All poets—yea, in every way! I’m told this man of talent Turned verses scoffing Hakon. Known now is the deed’s renown, For never man had managed To pay him well for pillaging The pelf and wealth of men. ‘Now you are to begin your poetic career by making a whole poem in praise of me when you wake; and take the greatest pains over the metre, the style, and above all the imagery.’ Then he vanished back into the mound, which shut again, but as Hallbjom woke he thought he got a glimpse of the back of him. Then he learnt the verse by heart, and after a little while he went back home to the farm with his sheep, and told about this happening. Hallbjom afterwards made a whole poem in praise of

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the mound-dweller, and became a very great poet; and there is a long saga which deals with him, both in this land and abroad, though it is not written down here. As for Thorleif’s brothers, Olaf Cudgel-Breaker and Helgi the Bold, it must be told how in the next summer after his death they went abroad, intending to take vengeance for him; but it was not destined for them that they should have Earl Hakon’s life in their power, because he had not yet accomplished all the evil which was destined for him to his own shame and ruin. Nevertheless they burned many of the earl’s temples, and caused him great loss of wealth by the plundering and warlike deeds they did against him, and by causing much disturbance in other ways. And here ends what there is to say about Thorleif.

The Howls of the Damned (þorsteins páttr skelks) I t i s said that the following summer King Olaf Tryggvason1 went on a progress through the Vik and elsewhere, and accepted hospitality at the farm which is called Reina. He had many men with him, and one man who was with him was called Thorstein, the son of Thorkel, the son of Asgeir Hot-Head, the son of Audun Cart-Pole; he was from Iceland, and he had come out to the king the previous winter. In the course of that evening, as men sat at table drinking, King Olaf said that no one among his men was to go out to the out­ buildings alone during the night, and that anyone who wanted to go out was to rouse his bedfellow to go with him, for anything else, said he, would turn out badly. Now the men drank well that evening, and when the tables had been taken away the men went off to sleep. And as the night wore on Thorstein the Icelander woke, and 1 K in g o f N orw ay 995-1000.

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wished to leave his bed; but the man who lay beside him was sleeping so soundly that Thorstein certainly did not wish to wake him. So then he got up and put his shoes on and wrapped himself in a thick cloak and went out to the privy; it was a large hut, such that eleven men could be seated along each side of it. He sat down on the seat nearest the door. And when he had been sitting there for a little while, he saw a goblin come popping up out of the inmost seat and sit on it. Thorstein then asked: ‘Who is it who has come there?’ The devil said: ‘It’s Thorkel the Thin who has come, he who fell at Bravellir with King Harald Wartooth.’ 1 ‘Where are you coming from now ?’ said Thorstein. He said he had come just now from the pains of hell. ‘What can you tell me about that place?’ said Thorstein. He answered: ‘What do you want to ask about it? ’ ‘Who is best at bearing his torments in the pain of hell?’ ‘Nobody is better than Sigurd Fafnir’s-Slayer,’ 12 said the goblin. ‘What torment does he suffer? ’ ‘He provides fuel for a blazing oven’, said the spook. ‘That doesn’t strike me as so very bad a torm ent’, said Thor­ stein. ‘It’s not exactly like th a t’, said the goblin, ‘for he himself is the fuel.’ ‘It is bad then’, said Thorstein. ‘But who is worst at bearing the torments?’ The spook said: ‘Starkad the Old 3 bears them worst, for he howls so much that that’s a worse torture for us fiends than almost anything else—so much so that we can never get any peace because of his howling.’ ‘What torture is it that makes him suffer so’, said Thorstein, ‘if he bears it so badly—and he such a brave man as they say he was!’ ‘He has fire round his ankles.’ ‘I don’t think that’s so bad’, said Thorstein, ‘for such a champion as he was.’ 1 A semi-legendary King o f Denm ark killed in battle about the middle o f the eighth century. 2 See p. 37 ff. 3 Another very famous legendary hero.

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‘That’s not the right way to look at it’, said the spook, ‘for it’s only the soles of his feet that are sticking up out of the fire.’ ‘That is bad’, said Thorstein. ‘Now you howl a howl as he does.’ ‘I’ll do th a t’, said the goblin. Then he set his jaws wide open and gave a great bellow. But Thorstein pulled the skirts of his cloak up over his head; he was quite overwhelmed by that howl. He said: ‘Does he howl the greatest of his howls like that?’ ‘Far from it’, said the spook, ‘for that is the howl of a puny, petty devilkin.’ ‘Howl like Starkad, just for a little’, said Thorstein. ‘Maybe I will’, said the goblin. Then he began to howl for the second time, so horribly that Thorstein thought it amazing how so small a fiend could give such a bellow. Thorstein did as he had done before, put his cloak over his head, but it disturbed him so deeply that a weakness came over him and he lost consciousness. Then the goblin asked: ‘Why are you so silent now ?’ Thorstein answered, when the fit had passed from him: ‘I was silent because I was amazed that there could be so mighty a power for noise in you, in a goblin no bigger than you look to me. And is that Starkad’s greatest howl?’ ‘Nowhere near’, said he. ‘That was more like his feeblest howl.* ‘Don’t put it off any longer’, said Thorstein. ‘Let me near the strongest howl.’ The goblin agreed. Thorstein prepared himself by folding his cloak and so twisting it round his head, and he held it there with both hands. Now at each howl the spook had moved about three seats nearer to Thorstein, and by now there were only three seats between them. Then the goblin puffed his cheeks out in a terri­ fying way and rolled his eyes upwards and began to howl so loud that Thorstein thought it had gone quite beyond all bounds. A t this very moment a bell rang out, and Thorstein fell on the floor in a faint. But the goblin was so disturbed by the sound of the bell that he disappeared down into the floor, and for a long time one could hear groanings down in the ground. Thorstein soon came to his senses and got up and went back to his bed and lay down. When morning came the men got up. The king went to church

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and heard Mass, and afterwards they went to table. The king was not looking particularly pleased, and he began by saying: ‘Did anyone go out alone to the privy last night?’ Thorstein then rose and knelt on one knee before the king, and said he had disobeyed his orders. The king said: ‘The offence against me is not very grave, but you have shown that there is truth in what is often said of you Icelanders, that you are not like other folk. Did you notice anything?’ Then Thorstein told the whole story, just as it had happened. The king asked: ‘Why did you expect you would gain some­ thing by his howling?’ ‘I will tell you, sire. I felt certain, what with your having warned all the men against going there alone, and then this demon popping up, that he and I would not part without some­ one getting hurt. My plan was that you should wake up, sire, when he howled, and I thought I would get some help if you were aware of all this.’ ‘And so it was’, said the king. ‘I did wake up and so find out what was going on, and therefore I had that bell rung, for I knew that otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hold out. But weren’t you afraid when the goblin began to howl?’ Thorstein answered: ‘I don’t know what fear is, sire.’ ‘Was there no terror at all in your heart?’ said the king. ‘N ot quite none’, said Thorstein, ‘for at the last howl a shudder did very nearly run through my breast.’ The king said: ‘Now a nickname will be added to your name, and from now on we’ll call you Thorstein Shudder. And here is a sword I’ll give you in honour of your new name.’ Thorstein thanked him. It is said that Thorstein became a courtier of King Olaf and stayed with him from this time, and fell on the Long Snake with the king’s other champions.

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The Misers (Gautreks saga, chs. 1-2) H ere we begin a merry tale about a king who was called G auti; he was a wise man and very calm, gratie, and yet a plain speaker. He ruled West Gautland, which lies between Norway and Sweden to the east of all the Kjol Ridge, and the Gautelf is the boundary between Upplond and Gautland. There are great forests there, difficult to travel through when there is no snow on the ground. This king, whom we have named already, would often go into the forest with his hawks and hounds, for he was a fine huntsman and thought that the best of sports. At that time many places which had great forests all round them were nevertheless inhabited, because many men were making clearings far away from the well-populated parts, and there some who had fled from men’s paths because of some wicked deed would raise farm buildings for themselves. Some had fled on account of verses or anecdotes told about them, thinking that they would be less mocked or scoffed at if they were far from the laughter of other men, and so lived out their whole lives without meeting any other people than those beside them. Many too had sought out places for themselves far from most men’s paths, and so no one would come to visit their homes unless, as sometimes did happen, people lost their way in the forests and stumbled on their households, however much they might have wished never to come there at all. This King Gauti, whom we have named already, had gone with his court to hunt in the forest with his best hunting hounds. They caught sight of a fine hart, and it was this very beast which he would gladly hunt, so he unleashed his hounds and pursued this same beast with great energy while day wore on towards night. He was now separated from his men and had gone so far into the forest that he knew he could not reach his men again on account of the darkness of the night and the great distance he had gone that day; there was this too, that the king had struck that beast 156

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with his spear and it was stude fast in the wound, and the king would on no account abandon it while he still might get it, thinking it would be shameful if he did not get back his weapon. He had put such energy into this that he had thrown off all his clothes except his linen underclothes; he was barelegged and had no shoes, and the stones and undergrowth had badly tom his legs and the soles of his feet. He did not get the beast. Now the dark* ness of night began to fall, so that he could never tell which way he was going; he now stood still and listened to see if he could hear anything, and when he had been standing still for some little while he heard a dog’s bark; and he went towards where he could hear the dog barking, for he thought there would be most hope of finding men there. Thereupon the king saw a small farmhouse. He saw that there was a man standing outside holding a woodcutter’s axe. As soon as this man saw that the king was making for the farm, he ran at the dog and killed it, saying: ’Never again will you teach guests the way to our home! For I see clearly that this man is so big that he’ll eat up all the farmer has, if he comes within our walls. And that will never happen, if I can have my way.’ The king heard his words, and laughed. He thought to himself that he was hardly equipped for sleeping out of doors, but also that hospitality did not seem certain if he waited till he was invited in, so now he walked boldly up to the door. The other placed himself in front of the door and would not let him in; the king proved to him that there was some difference between their strengths, and the man, who had been in front of the door, left it. The king went into the main room, where there were four men and four women. There was no greeting for King Gauti, but he sat down all the same. One man began to speak (the one whom he thought most likely to be the farmer), and he said: ‘Why did you let this man come in here ? ’ The thrall who had been standing at the door answered: ’This man was so strong that I had no strength against him.’ ‘And what did you do when the dog barked?’ The thrall answered: ‘I killed the dog, for I didn’t want him to teach the way to this house to any more such rogues as this fellow looks to me.' ’You’re a faithful thrall, and one can’t blame you for this awkward business. It will be difficult to repay you for your

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carefulness, yet tomorrow I ’ll give you your reward and then you’ll go with me.’ The buildings there were well fitted out, and the men handsome and of fine stature. The king noticed that they were frightened of him. The farmer ordered that the tables should be laid, and food was brought in. And when the king saw that no food was going to be served to him, he got up from table, stood beside the farmer, picked up some food and ate boldly. And the farmer, when he saw this, stopped eating and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Nobody there spoke to anyone else; but when the king had finished eating, the farmer lifted his hat again and ordered the dishes to be taken from the table—‘for now there is no food to keep*. Then the people went off to sleep, and the king also lay down to sleep. And when he had been lying there a little while, a woman came to him and said: ‘Wouldn’t it be a good idea if you accepted hospitality from m e?’ The king said: ‘Things look more promising now that you’re willing to talk to me, for this is a dreary household.’ ‘There’s no need for you to be amazed at that, for never in all our lives here have we had a guest; and I think that you’re no welcome guest to the farmer.’ The king said: ‘I would be quite well able to repay the farmer for all the expense he has had through me, as soon as I reach my own home.’ She said: ‘I think that this will lead to something more than our getting redress from you for this accident.’ The king said: ‘I beg you, teach me what names you and your people have.’ She said: ‘ My father’s name is Skarfnortung; he got that name because he is so stingy over his expenses that he can’t bear to watch food or anything else he has diminishing. My mother’s name is Totra; she got that name because she will never have any clothes except such as are already torn and worn to ribbons, and she thinks that that shows great forethought.’ The king asked: ‘W hat are your brothers called?’ She answered: ‘One is called Fjolmod, the second is called Imsigul, the third Gilling.’ The king said: ‘W hat are you called, and your sisters?’ She answered: ‘I am called Snotra; I got that name because I’m considered the wisest of us all. My sisters are called Hjotra and

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Fjotra. Now here, near our farm, is a crag which is called Gilling’s Crag, and beside it a pointed rock which we call the Family Rock. It is so high and there is such a drop below that no creature that falls from it can live. It is named Family Rock because by means of it we lessen the numbers of our family as soon as great marvels seem to us to be happening, and there all our elders die without any sickness and go to Odin, and we need never bear the troublesomeness or obstinacy of any of our elders, for this place of bliss has always been equally accessible to every one of our family; nor need we live to face loss of wealth or lack of food or any other marvels or prodigies, even if such things should happen here. Now you must understand that my father thinks it the greatest of wonders that you should have come to our house; it would be a great prodigy if even a common man had eaten food here, but it is a wonder of all wonders that a king, cold and naked, should have come to our house—there is no precedent to be found for that! And therefore my father and mother mean to divide up the inheritance tomorrow between us brothers and sisters, and afterwards they, and the thrall with them, will go over the Family Rock and so take their way to Valhalla. My father would not wish to be stingy in rewarding the thrall for his goodwill in trying to drive you away from our door, so now he will enjoy blessedness with my father. Indeed, my father feels certain that Odin would not come out to welcome a thrall unless he were in his company.’ The king said: ‘I see you must be the most talkative person here, and to you I pledge my faith. I think I can be certain that you are a maiden, and you shall sleep with me tonight.’ She said that the king must have his way over that. In the morning when the king awoke, he said: ’I must ask something of you, Skarfnortung. I walked barefoot to this farm, so I would like now to have some shoes from you.’ He answered nothing, but brought him some shoes—and took the shoelaces out. Then the king said: ‘When Skarfnortung gave me a pair of shoes, The laces he out did pick; I say that the gifts which a bad man gives Axe never without a trick.’

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The king made ready to go, and Snotra set him on the right road. The king said: ‘I offer you the chance to come with me, for I have a suspicion that something will come of our meeting. If you bear a boy, have him named Gautrek, making that up from my own name and from the annoyance1 I have brought on your household.’ She answered: ‘I certainly think it probable that you have guessed right about this, but I can’t go with you at the moment because today the inheritance of my parents is being divided up between us brothers and sisters, for they mean to go over the Family Rock.’ The king bade her farewell, and told her to come to find him whenever she thought the time for that had come. The king went on his way till he came to his men, and now he lived in peace and quiet. Now it must be told that when Snotra came home her father was sitting among his wealth and saying: ’A great prodigy has come to pass among us, that this king should have come to our household and have eaten up much of what we had—just what we could least spare, too! In view of this impoverishment, I don’t see how we can keep our whole family together; and so I have gathered all my possessions and I intend to divide the inheritance between you, my sons, and then I intend that I and my wife and the thrall should go to Valhalla. Gilling is to have my fine ox, together with his sister Snotra. Fjolmod is to have my gold bar, together with his sister Hjotra. Imsigul is to have all the com and fields, together with his sister Fjotra. But there is one thing I beg of you, my children: do not add to the number of your company, for fear that you would not be able, because of that, to keep my inheritance together.’ And when Skarfnortung had spoken as much as he wanted and wished to say, they all went up on to Gilling’s Crag, and the children sent their father and mother down over the Family Rock, and they went gladly and merrily to Odin. Now when the brothers and sisters set up house together, they thought it necessary to keep strict guard over themselves. They took pins and pinned lengths of cloth round themselves, so that no part of them could touch naked against any other part. They 1 Icelandic: re k str.

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thought then that they had most safely contrived that there could be no addition to the number of their group. Snotra found out, all on her own, that she was with child. Then she moved one of the pins in the cloth, so that a hand could get inside; she then pretended to be sleeping. But when Gilling awoke, or rather, was half waking from his sleep, he stretched out his hand and it touched her cheek. And when he woke, he said: ‘Something very awkward has happened, for I must have done you an injury. It looks to me as if you are much fatter than you used to be.’ She answered: ‘Conceal it, as far as you can.’ He answered: ‘I can’t do such a monstrous thing, because in any case one can’t conceal the fact when once there has been an addition to the numbers of our group.’ N ot long afterwards Snotra bore a fine boy and gave him a name and called him Gautrek. Gilling said: ‘Now a mighty prodigy has come to pass, and it can’t now be concealed; I must go and tell my brothers about it.’ They said: ‘Our whole state of life will be ruined by these prodigies that have come to pass, and this is a grave breach of our law.’ Gilling said: ‘A fool did I prove, my hand to move, And a woman’s cheek to touch! Little magic men need their sons to breed, And the getting of Gautrek was such.’ They said he was not to be blamed for this, since he was repentant, and had never wished that it should happen. He said that he would gladly go over the Family Rock and that lesser things than this had been reckoned as prodigies; but they told him to wait for whatever more might happen. Fjolmod used to sit beside his wealth all day and carry his gold bar about with him wherever he went, and one day he fell asleep and then woke to find that two black snails had crawled over his gold bar. He thought that dents had been left where the gold was darker, and it seemed to him that it had been much diminished. He said: ‘It is terrible to suffer such a loss! If such a thing were to happen again, it would be wrong to go to Odin penniless, and so I’ll go over the Family Rock and never again suffer such 161

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destruction of my wealth. Matters have never looked so pitchblack for me since my father gave me my share of the wealth.’ He told his brothers of this prodigy which had come to pass, and told them to redivide the inheritance. Then he said: 'Each little thing our ruin can bring; Small snails have eaten my stone; These snails dug a hole through all my gold— I must penniless linger on.’ Then he and his wife went up to Gilling’s Crag and then went over the Family Rock. It happened one day that Imsigul was walking round his field, and he saw before him the bird whose name is Sparrow and whose size is—just that of a sparrow. He felt that things were now taking a threatening turn, so he walked along the field and saw that this bird had taken one grain from an ear of com. Then he said: ‘Damage and sorrow were wrought by a sparrow In Imsigul’s field of com ; An ear was broken, a grain was taken— Totra’s kindred shall ever m ourn!’ Then he and his wife went off, and they gladly went over the Family Rock, not wishing ever to suffer such loss again. One day Gautrek, who was seven years old by now, was out of doors and saw the fine ox. It so happened that he fatally pierced the ox with a spear. And when Gilling saw that, he said: 'A very young lad killed the ox I had; By such prodigies death is foretold; No treasure so fine could again be mine, Although I might live to be old.’ He also said: ‘Now this is not to be borne!’ Then he went to Gilling’s Crag, and from there he went over the Family Rock. Now the only two left were Snotra and her son Gautrek. She got herself ready, and him too, to leave that place, and now they went on their way till they found King Gauti, and he gave warm welcome to her and to his son. There the boy was brought up at

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his father’s court and grew rapidly towards maturity; and thus some years went by till Gautrek had come to his full maturity. Then it so happened that King Gauti fell sick and summoned his friends to him. The king said: ‘You have been obedient to me and attentive to all my wishes, but now I think it is very probable that this sickness will divide our friendship. I want to give this kingdom I have held to my son Gautrek, and the title of king with it.’ This pleased them, and after the death of King Gauti Gautrek was taken as king over Gautland, and he is often spoken of in old sagas.

The Price of an Ox (Gautreks saga, ch s. 6, a n d 9 -1 1 ) I h e r e was a man called Rennir, and he was a line farmer. He had set up house on the island which since then has been called Rennisey; this island lies in the north off the coast of Norway below Jadar. He had been a famous Viking before settling down on his farm. He had a wife, and his only child was a son called Ref. In his youth, Ref used to lie about the kitchen and chew brushwood and the bark of trees; he was extraordinarily big and tall, and he would never clean the dirt off himself, nor yet would he do one hand’s turn of work which might be of any use to anyone else. His father was a very wealthy man, and he was not pleased with the idleness of his son. Ref was not particularly well known for any wisdom or outstanding quality; on the contrary, he had made himself the laughing-stock of his more valiant kinsmen, and his father thought it unlikely that he would ever become outstanding in any way, as other young men did in those days. Farmer Rennir had one precious thing on which he set more store than all his other possessions. This was an ox. He was a big 163

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one, and very splendid on account of his horns. The horns on him had grooves cut in them, and gold poured into the grooves and over the pointed tips, and silver too; there was a chain of silver between the ox’s horns, and three gold rings on it. This ox far outshone all other oxen in the country for his size and all his costly trappings. Farmer Rennir made such a fuss over him that he was never to be left unattended.

n Now it must be mentioned that Earl Neri was ruler of the region of U p p lo n d .. . . Earl Neri was so wise that there was no one to match him. But he would never accept any gift, because he was so miserly that he could never bear to give anything in return for it. It is said that Farmer Rennir, of whom mention has been made, was passing one day through his kitchen. He tripped over the leg of his son Ref, and said to him: ‘It’s a bitter shame to have a son like you, as you won’t do anything but give trouble! Now get out of here, and never let me set eyes on you again as long as you keep up these half-witted ways.’ Ref answered: ‘As you’re driving me away, it would be only right if some precious thing went with me—the best you have, and the one you would most feel the loss of.’ Rennir said: ‘There’s nothing so precious in all my possessions that I wouldn’t give it up for the chance of never seeing you again. You are the laughing-stock of your family.’ After this they ended their talk together. And not long after­ wards, one fine day, Ref got up and got ready to leave. And he took that fine ox and led it down to the shore. He thrust a boat out, meaning to go across to the mainland, and he did not care in the least that the ox might get a bit wet. Then he sat down at the oars, tied the ox to the boat, and so rowed across to land. He was wearing a short cloak and ankle-length breeches; and when he came to shore he led the ox behind him and first went east through Jadar and then by the road which leads to Upplond. He did not pause on the journey till he came to the settlement ruled by Earl Neri. The earl’s herdsman told him that Ref,

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Rennir’s fool, had arrived there leading a fine ox behind him; and the earl told them not to make a mock of him. And when Ref came to the doors of the hall where the earl usually sat, he told the door-guards to call the earl to come out and talk with him. They answered: ‘There’s never a moment when you stop your half-witted ways! The earl is not in the habit of coming running out to talk with peasants.’ Ref said: ‘You take my message, and leave him to decide on the answer.’ Then they went in to find the earl, and told him that Ref the Foolish was asking him to come outside. The earl said: ‘Tell Ref that I will come out to see him. One can never tell what luck a newcomer brings with him.’ The earl went out, and Ref greeted him fittingly. The earl said: ‘Why have you come here?’ Ref answered: ‘My father has driven me away, but here is an ox which I own, and I want to give him to you.’ The earl said: ‘Haven’t you heard that I never accept gifts, because I don’t want to give anyone any rewards?’ Ref answered: ‘I have heard how your miserliness is such that no one need expect any riches in exchange for gifts made to you. But all the same, I want you to accept this precious thing; it may be that you will teach me something profitable by your words, whatever reward there may or not be in money.’ The earl said: ‘I’ll accept the ox because of these words of yours. Go inside, and stay here for tonight.’ Ref turned the ox loose, and went in. The earl bade them find him some clothes which would not be a disgrace. Afterwards Ref washed, and he was the finest-looking man. He sat there for a while. Now the whole of the earl’s hall was decorated with shields, each one touching the next where they hung. The earl took down a shield which was all inlaid with gold, and this he gave to Ref. But when the earl went to sit at his drink next morning, he looked towards the gap where that shield had hung; he then spoke this verse: ‘Rich it shone once, surely, The shield ’gainst hangings hung; ’Twill often grieve me gravely To glance that way by chance.

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Unlovely is the gap it leaves— I’ll live a pauper shortly, When gallant fellows by a gift Have got my shields scot-free.’ The earl gave orders that his high-seat should be turned round, so much did it grieve him that the shield was gone. And when Ref noticed that, he went up to the earl, holding the shield in his hand, and said: ‘My lord’, said he, ‘be merry, for here is the shield you gave me. I will give it to you now, for it’s no use to me, seeing that I have no other weapons.’ The earl said: ‘Good luck to you for this gift, you finest of all good fellows! It is a magnificent adornment for my hall to have it back in the place where it hung before—but here’s a gift which I’ll give you, and it may be that this will prove profitable for you, if you follow my advice.’ And the earl put a whetstone into his hands—‘though you won’t think this a gift of much value’. Ref said: ‘I don’t know what use this can be to me.’ The earl said: ‘This is how matters stand—I won’t feed any man while he sits around without doing any work. Now I’m going to send you to King Gautrek, and you are to hand this whetstone to him.’ Ref said: ‘I’m not used to going to and fro between men of high rank, and I don’t know what this whetstone has to do with the king.’ The earl said: ‘There’d be no point in talking about my good sense if I could see no further than you do! But there will be no great test of your courage in your meeting the king, for you are not going to speak to him at all. I ’m told that the king often sits on his queen’s burial-mound and flies his hawk from there, and often, as the day wears on, the hawk grows slack. Then the king gropes round about his seat to see if he can find anything to throw at it. Now if this happens, and if the king finds nothing to throw at the hawk, then you thrust this hone into his hand; and if he hands anything to you, you take it, and then come back to me.’ Then Ref went off, following the earl’s instructions, and came to where the king was sitting on the burial-mound; and things were indeed going as Neri had guessed, for the king was flinging everything he could lay hands on at the hawk. Ref sat down near the chair and behind the king, and then watched how things were

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going. The king stretched his hand out behind his back. Ref thrust the whetstone into his hand, but the king threw it at the hawk’s back, and it flew up sharply when the hone hit it. The king thought he had won a fine victory; he did not wish that the man who had settled the matter for him should lose what was rightly his, and so he held out a gold ring behind him, without looking towards him as he did so. Ref took it, and went back to the earl, who asked him how things had turned out. Ref told him, and showed him the ring. The earl said: ‘This is a fine and precious thing, and sitting still brings less profit than winning things like this.’ m Ref spent the winter there; and when spring came the earl said: ‘What are you going to do with yourself now?’ Ref said: ‘Things won’t be easy for me now, but I’ll be able to sell the ring for ready money.’ The earl said: ‘I’ll once more take a hand in your affairs. There is a king called Ella who rules England; you must give him the ring. This will not leave you out of pocket, and you are to come back to me in the autumn. I won’t grudge you food and good advice, even if there is no other reward for the ox.’ Ref said: ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about that.’ Then he went to England, and presented himself before King Ella, and greeted him as was fitting. The king asked who this might be. He answered: ‘My name is Ref, and I would like you to accept this gold ring from me.’ And he laid it on the table in front of the king. The king looked at it and said: ‘This is a very valuable treasure. Who gave it you?’ Ref answered: ‘King Gautrek gave me the ring.’ The king said: ‘What had you given him ?’ Ref answered: ‘A small whetstone.’ The king said: ‘There is great generosity in King Gautrek, if he gives gold for a stone. I’ll accept the ring’, said the king, ‘and I invite you to stay here.’ Ref said: ‘Thank you, sire, for your invitation, but I mean to go back to Earl Neri, my foster-father.’

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The king said: ‘You will have to break your journey here for a while.’ The king gave orders that a ship should be made ready, and one day he told Ref to come with him. The king said: ‘Here’s a ship which I ’ll give you, with a full cargo, the best that can be got, and as many men as you may need. I do not wish you to go as another man’s passenger any longer, when you travel where you please; yet this indeed is little enough beside the reward King Gautrek gave you for the whetstone.’ Ref said: ‘This is the very noblest of rewards.’ Then Ref made ready to sail away, with goods in plenty, and thanked the king with many fair speeches. The king said: ‘Here are two dogs which I ’ll give you.’ They were very small and pretty, and Ref had never seen any like them. The collars on them were of gold, and a gold ring was clasped round each one’s neck, and there were seven small rings on the leash linking them. Men thought they had never seen any treasures of that sort to equal these. After this Ref went away, and came back to Earl Neri’s domains. The earl came to meet him and welcomed him—‘and come and stay with me, with all your men’. Ref said: ‘I now have wares enough to pay for our keep.’ The earl said: ‘That’s good, but those wares of yours ought not to be diminished; you are to eat at our own table—even though there’s not much reward for an ox.’ Ref said: ‘The one thing that hurts me is when you talk about that.’ Now Ref spent that winter with the earl, and became very well liked, and many followers gathered round him.IV

IV

And when spring came the earl said to Ref: ‘W hat are you going to do with yourself now ?’ Ref said: ‘W ouldn’t it be easy, as there’s no lack of money now, to set out on Viking raids or trading voyages?’ The earl said: ‘That’s true, but still I ’ll take a hand in your affairs once more. You must now go south to Denmark to see King H rolf Kraki and take the dogs to him, for they are not the

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kind of thing which a man of common rank should own; and once again, you will not be out of pocket if he accepts them.’ Ref said: ‘You shall have your way, but I ’m not short of money now.’ Now Ref made ready and sailed to Denmark. He found King H rolf and presented himself before him and greeted him. The king asked him who he was, and he said his name was Ref. The king said: ‘Is your nickname Gift-Ref?’ He answered: ‘I have indeed received gifts from men, and even given some sometimes.’ And Ref also said: ‘These dogs, these little ones, I want to give to you, sire, together with their trap­ pings.’ The king said, looking at them : ‘Such things are great treasures. Who gave them to you?’ Ref answered: ‘King Ella.’ King Hrolf said: ‘W hat had you given him ?’ Ref answered: ‘A gold ring.’ ‘And who had given you that?’ Ref answered: ‘King Gautrek.’ ‘And what had you given him ?’ Ref answered: ‘A whetstone.’ King Hrolf said: ‘There is great generosity in King Gautrek, if he gives gold for a stone. I’ll accept the dogs, and you are to stay with us.’ Ref said: ‘I must go back in the autumn to Earl Neri, my foster-father.’ King Hrolf said: ‘That can very well be arranged.’ He now stayed with the king for a while. Now in autumn Ref made his ship ready. Then the king said: ‘I have thought out a reward for you. You shall accept a ship from me, as from the King of England, and it is to have the finest cargo and crew.’ Ref said: ‘Accept my deep thanks for a noble gift’, and then made ready to leave. King Hrolf said: ‘Here are two fine things, Ref, which you are to accept from me, and they are a helmet and coat of mail.’ Ref took those fine things; they were both made of red gold. And he and King Hrolf parted very affectionately; and now Ref went back to see Earl Neri, and it was with two ships that he sailed.

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The earl greeted him kindly and said that his wealth had again somewhat increased—‘and you must all come and stay with me this winter (even though there’s only a small reward for an ox); but it would not be right that I should grudge my words when they can prove profitable for you.’ Ref answered: ‘It’s thanks to your guidance that I have all this.’ And Ref spent the winter there in high favour, and was growing to be a famous man. v In spring the earl asked Ref: ‘W hat are you going to do with yourself this summer?’ Ref answered: ‘My lord, that is for you to decide, but I’m not short of money now.’ The earl said: ‘That, I think, is true! Now there is one journey more which I want to suggest to you. There is a king called Olaf who spends his days marauding; he has eighty ships, he is always at sea, winter or warm summer, and he is the most famous of warrior kings. You are to take the helmet and coat of mail to him; and if he accepts them, I expect that he will tell you to make your own choice of a reward, and you must choose to be the leader of his troops for half a month and to be able to set your course wherever you please. But there is a man with the king, whose name is Refnef; he is the very worst of men, and he is the king’s counsellor. I can scarcely see which will prove the stronger, your good luck or his trollish powers; still, you must take the risk of that, whichever way it goes. After that you are to set your course back here with all the troops—and it may be that then I shall manage to reward you for that ox.* Ref said: ‘I do feel that you talk of him too often.’ Then they parted. Ref now went to seek out King Olaf, and found him where he lay aboard his fleet of ships; and he at once made for the king’s own ship, went on board, and greeted the king. King Olaf asked who he was, and Ref gave account of himself. The king said: ‘Is your nickname Gift-Ref?’ He answered: ‘Noble men have sometimes given me things, and I’ve always given something in exchange. But here are two

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precious things which I want to give you; they are a helmet and coat of mail, for these fine things are sure to suit you very well.’ The king said: ‘Who gave you these treasures? For I have never seen any like them—and not only not seen, but I’ve never even heard of any, even though I have travelled widely in many lands.’ Ref answered: ‘King Hrolf Kraki gave me these precious things.’ The king said: ‘But what had you given him ?’ Ref said: ‘Two dogs with gold collars, which King Ella of England had given me.’ ‘But what had you given King Ella?’ said King Olaf. ‘A gold ring, which King Gautrek had given me, and he was rewarding me for a whetstone.’ King Olaf said: ‘There is great generosity in such kings, and King Gautrek outdoes them all in generosity. Shall I accept these precious things, Refnef, or n ot?’ He answered: ‘I do not think it advisable for you to accept them, if you haven’t the wits to give reward for them ’—and saying this, he seized the treasures and dived overboard with them. Ref saw that he would soon be harshly treated if he lost the treasures, and he went down after him; and there was fierce fighting between them, and the end of it was that Ref got the coat of mail, but Refnef kept the helmet and lay down on the sea-bed and turned into a troll down there in the depths; but Ref came up again, very exhausted. Then this verse was composed: Rather worse Is Refnef’s plan Than Neri ever Knew it was; When Gautrek gave A gold ring to Ref, In the flood he did not Fling his wealth. King Olaf said: ‘You are a most outstanding man.’ Ref then said: ‘Now I would like you to accept the treasure which is still left.’ *G

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King Olaf said: ‘ Certainly I will accept it, and be no less grate­ ful for one than I was for both. It was a mistake on my part not to have accepted them both in the beginning, but that is not to be wondered at, as I was listening to the advice of an evil man. Choose your own reward for this.’ Ref said: ‘I want to have authority over your ships and troops for half a month, and to set my course wherever I wish.’ The king said: ‘It’s a strange choice, but the ships shall be yours to command.’ Then they set their course for Gautland, to find Earl Neri; they arrived there at the close of day. Ref sent men secretly to Earl Neri to say that he wanted to meet him; the earl came to meet him, and he told him all about his journey. ‘Now, foster-son’, said the earl, ‘things have come to the point when it will be decided how lucky a man you can become, for now I want to create a link between you and King Gautrek, by your marrying his daughter.’ Ref told him to take full authority in this affair. The earl said: ‘Now when we next meet, whatever I may say, you must not look as if you knew nothing about it; and let your replies fit in with the hints I shall give you.’ After this the earl rode away, and did not pause on the journey until he came to find King Gautrek. The earl came to him at about midnight, and told him that an overwhelming host had arrived in his kingdom. ‘These men mean to put you to death and take the kingdom for themselves.’ The king asked: ‘Which chieftain is leader of this host?’ The earl answered: ‘Someone that we would never have thought likely to refuse to follow my advice, and that is my foster-son Ref.’ The king said: ‘You must still have great influence over him—or would it be a better plan to gather an army against him ?’ The earl said: ‘If you can’t come to terms with him, I think we may well expect that they will make great ravages here before you can call up an army to you; I would rather go with honourable offers and find out whether any terms can be arranged between you, for I think my own domains would be the first to be laid waste, as they have come so near to them.’

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The king said: *We have long listened to your advice.’ ‘And I would wish, O king’, said the earl, ‘that you should come to hear the talk between us.’ The king said that Neri would have his own way over that. Then they went off with some men, until they drew near to the ships. The king saw that the others had a great crowd of warriors and he thought that it would be hard to make a stand against them. The earl spoke, calling out from the shore to the men on the ships: ‘Is it my foster-son who is leader of this host?’ ‘That certainly is so’, said Ref. ‘I would never have thought, foster-son, that you would come raiding in my domains, nor yet in those of King Gautrek. Is there no way of buying you off, so that there might be peace? I am willing to do everything so that your glory should be even greater than before, and I feel sure that the king would be just as willing, for the sake of his possessions. I would like you to accept the honours the king offers, and then let his kingdom enjoy peace and quiet; but I know you are sure to be exacting over what you accept—and that’s not strange, since your mother’s father was a mighty earl, and your father a fearless champion.’ Ref answered: ‘I shall accept a good offer, if an offer is made me.’ ‘I know’, said the earl, ‘that one could not win your loyalty with trifles. I see which way your mind is turning in this affair. You will be wanting to have the earldom which I have held in fieff from King Gautrek; and furthermore, you will be wanting that the king should give you his daughter.’ Ref answered: ‘You show great insight in the matter, earl; and I will agree to this, if the king will give his assent to it.’ The earl said to the king: ‘It seems to me that it would be more advisable to take these terms than that we should risk our lives against these men of hell; it would be quite likely that they would first win this kingdom, and then take your daughter as spoils of war. It is also highly honourable to give your daughter to a descendant of an earl, and I will give Ref the benefit of my advice; and let him be the chief administrator of your kingdom, and carry out the wishes of you both in this affair.’ King Gautrek answered: ‘Your advice, earl, has always served me well, and I am willing to accept your guidance. Indeed, it

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looks to me as if the odds are too heavy for us to deal with this host.’ The earl said: ‘The way I would most like to arrange the matter is by getting Ref to strengthen your kingdom, and by raising him in rank.’ This was confirmed with oaths, and the earl arranged all the terms of settlement between them; and King Gautrek went home. Ref then said: ‘King Olaf, you have given me great help, and now you can go on your way wherever you please.’ King Olaf answered: ‘Wise men have had a hand in this affair, where you two are concerned.’ After this King Olaf sailed away. And when the fleet had left King Gautrek said: ‘I have been dealing with cunning men, but I will not now break my oaths.’ The earl then said to Ref: ‘Now only your own men are left; but now you can see how far I have been helpful to you, and this match is a fit one for you. It may be that the reward for the ox has been given you; and I have not rewarded you excessively, for you gave me all the wealth you had, whereas I still have great posses* sions left.’ Now King Gautrek had a feast prepared, and now Ref married Helga, King Gautrek’s daughter. Furthermore King Gautrek gave him the title of earl; and he was thought most famous for all his valour, and for lineage too he came from men of rank, and his father had been a very great Viking and champion. Ref ruled this earldom, and he did not live to be old. Earl Neri died soon after this, and there is nothing more to be told about him in this saga; King Gautrek had a funeral feast held for him. The king by then was beginning to be rather weighed down by old age. He was more outstanding for his generosity and bravery, but it is not said that he was deeply wise; nevertheless he was well liked, and a liberal giver, and had the finest manners one could see. And here ends the saga of Gift-Ref.

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Helgi and the Women of the Otherworld (Helga þáttr þórissonar)

I T h e r e was a man called Thorir who lived in Norway on the farm which is called Raudaberg, and this farm is not far from the Vik. Thorir had two sons: one was called Helgi and the other Thorstein, and they were both fine-looking men, though Helgi was the better in feats of strength. Their father had the rank of ‘hersir’, and enjoyed the friendship of King Olaf Tryggvason. It happened one summer that these brothers went on a sailing voyage north to Finnmark, taking butter and meat to trade with the Finns. Their trading was successful, and they turned back for home when summer was ended, and one day they came to the headland which is called Vimund, where there were very fine forests. They went up ashore and cut down some maple trees. Helgi happened to go deeper into the forest than the others. Then a thick fog came down, so that he did not make his way back to the ship that evening; by now, too, the dusk of night was closing in fast. Then, where Helgi was, twelve women came riding from the wood; they were all on red horses and wearing red riding-clothes. They dismounted. The harness of every horse was gleaming with gold. There was one there who was far beyond the rest for her beauty, and all the others were the attendants of this one magnificent-looking woman. Their horses were set to graze. After that they set up a beautiful tent; it was striped in various colours and much of it was woven with gold, and all the knobs which stuck up from the tent were inlaid with gold, and so was the pole which rose up above it with a large ball of gold upon it. And when they had prepared all this, they set up tables on which

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they laid out all kinds of delicacies. Then they took water for their hands, with jugs and basins made of silver and all plated with gold. Helgi was standing near their tent, and moved towards it. The one who was their leader said: ‘ Come here, Helgi, and take food and drink with us here.’ He did so. Helgi saw that there was good drink there, and foods of various sorts, and beautiful goblets. Then the tables were taken away and some beds prepared, and these were far more splendid than the beds of other folk. The woman who was their leader asked Helgi whether he would prefer to lie alone, or with her. He asked her her name, and she answered: ‘My name is Ingibjorg, daughter of Gudmund of Glæsisvellir.’ Helgi said: ‘I will lie with you.’ And so they did, for three nights on end. Then the weather grew sunny again, and then they got up and dressed. Ingibjorg then said: ‘Now here we must part. Here are two small chests, one filled with gold and one with silver, which I’m giving to you. Tell no one where it comes from.’ After this the women rode away again by the same road as they had come, but he went back to his ship. The others greeted him joyfully and asked what had delayed him, but he would not tell them anything about it. Then they went on their way southwards along the coast, and returned to their father, having gathered much wealth. Helgi’s father and brother did ask him where the money which he had in the little chests had all come from, but he would not talk about that. ii

Time now went by till it was Christmas. It happened one night that a strangely wild wind blew up. Thorstein said to his brother: ‘We ought to get up and see whether our ship is all right.’ They did so, and it was firm on its anchor. Helgi had had a dragon-head made for their ship and had set it on the prow, richly adorned and overhanging the water. Part of the money which Ingibjorg, King Gudmund’s daughter, had given him had been spent on this, and some he had hidden away in the neck of this 176

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dragon. Then they heard a great crashing noise, and two men came riding up to them and carried Helgi off, and Thorstein did not know what became of him. Then the wind quickly died down. Thorstein came home and told his father of this happening, and he thought it very serious news. Then he went at once to King Olaf and told him what had occurred, and asked him to find out where his son had got to. The king said he would do as he asked, but said that he had a foreboding that it was uncertain whether Helgi’s kinsmen would ever have much joy of him again. Then Thorir went home. So this year passed by until it was Christmas of the following year; the king had taken up residence at Alreksstadir for that winter. Then it came to the eighth day of Christmas, and on that evening three men walked into the hall and went up to King Olaf as he was sitting at table. They greeted him as was fitting, and the king gave them good greeting in return. It was Helgi who had come there, but nobody knew the other two. The king asked them their names, and each of them said that his name was Grim—‘We have been sent here to you from Gudmund of Glæsisvellir; he sends you his greetings, and these two horns as well.’ The king took them; they were adorned with gold, and they were very fine treasures. King Olaf already had two horns which were called the Hyming Homs, and though they were extremely fine, yet those that Gudmund was sending him were even finer. ‘King Gudmund asks, sire, that you should be his friend; he sets the highest value on your attitude, more than on that of all the other kings.’ The king gave no answer to that, but ordered that these com­ panions should be shown to their seats. The king gave orders that the Grim Horns should be filled with good drink and that the bishop should bless them, and ordered too that they should be carried first to the men named Grim, so that they should be the first to drink from them. And then the king spoke this verse: ‘Let our guests now grip these horns, Let Gudmund’s thegns take their ease; Let those Grims from these Grims drink deep, Thus they get their good ale from these.’

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Then the Grims took the horns, but realized what words the bishop had spoken over the drink. They then said: ‘Now things are indeed going very much as our king Gudmund guessed that they would. This King Olaf is full of deceits and does not know how to repay a favour, for our king had behaved honourably towards him. Now let us all rise up and leave this place.’ They did so. Great uproar broke out in the room. They threw out the drink from the horns and quenched the fires. Then men heard a great crashing noise; the king called on God to guard them, and told his men to stand up and put an end to that uproar. Then the Grims made their way out, and Helgi with them. By then the lights had been relit in the king’s quarters, and then they could see that three men had been slain, but that the Grim Homs were lying on the floor there beside the dead men. ‘This is a great marvel ’, said the king, ‘and it is just as well that such things should only happen rarely. As for Gudmund of Glæsisvellir, I ’ve heard say that he is wise in magic lore, and that dealings with him most often turn out badly, and that men who are in his power are in a bad position, as far as we can tell any­ thing about it.’ The king gave orders that the Grim Hom s should be kept and drunk from, and this was done successfully. The place down by Alreksstadir where those men made their appearance from the east is now called Grimaskard, and no man has ever passed that way since. m Now a year passed by, and once again the eighth day of Christ­ mas came round, and the king and his court were in church hearing Mass. Then three men came up to the door of the church there, and one of them stayed, but two went away, having first said: ‘Here we bring you Grettir, O k in g ;1 and it’s not sure when you’ll get rid of him again.’ Men recognized that it was Helgi there. Then the king went to table, and as the men were talking with Helgi they became aware that he was blind. The king then asked how things had gone with him and what 1 The point o f this rem ark is n o t clear; it is possible that *to bring G rettir to som eone’ was a proverbial phrase for introducing an em barrassing or unwelcome visitor.

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had become of him during all this time. Then he told the king first about how he had met the women in the forest, then about how the Grims had raised a wind against him and his brother when they wanted to make their ship safe, and then how the Grims had taken him away with them to Gudmund of Glæsisvellir and brought him to Ingibjorg, Gudmund’s daughter. Then the king asked: ‘How did it please you to be there?’ ‘Very well indeed’, said he; ‘I’ve never been better pleased.’ Then the king asked about King Gudmund’s way of life, the number of his men, and his occupations. Helgi spoke of all this with praise, and said there was far more about him than he could manage to tell. The king said: ‘Why did you go off in such a hurry last year?’ ‘King Gudmund sent those men to trick you’, said he. ‘Yet on account of your prayers he set me free so that you might know what had become of me. But the reason we went off in such a hurry last time was that the Grims had no power to drink a drink over which you had ordered that the Sign of the Cross should be made. They were angry to see themselves foiled; and they killed those men of yours because King Gudmund had said they were to do so if they could do no harm to you yourself. He had made himself seem honourable by sending you those horns, so that you would be slower to look for me.’ The king said: ‘ Why have you now come away a second time?’ He answered: ‘Ingibjorg is the cause of that. She thought she could no longer lie with me without trouble coming of it if her bare flesh touched mine, and this was the chief reason why I went away. But indeed King Gudmund had no wish to oppose you, as soon as he knew that you wanted to fetch me away. But as for the honourableness and hospitality of King Gudmund and the great numbers of men with him—I cannot speak of it all in a few words.’ The king said: ‘Why are you blind?’ He answered: ‘Gudmund’s daughter Ingibjorg tore both my eyes out when we parted, and said that the women of Norway would not have joy of me for long.’ The king said: ‘King Gudmund would suffer great injury at my hands because of the manslayings he has committed, if it were the will of God that this should be.’ Then Helgi’s father Thorir was sent for, and he thanked the

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king warmly now that his son had come back again out of the hands of trolls. Then he went home; but Helgi stayed there with the king. And he lived until the same day of the following year. But the king had the Grim H om s with him when he left the country for the last time, and people say that when King Olaf disappeared from off the Long Snake, the horns too disappeared and no man has seen them since. And here we cease speaking of the Grims.

A Visit to the Otherworld (þorsteins þáttr bœjarmagns) I

I n t h e days when Earl Hakon Sigurdarson ruled Norway there lived in Gaulardal a farmer who was called Brynjolf and nick­ named the Camel. He held land from the king and was a mighty warrior. His wife was called Dagny; she was the daughter of Jamskeggi of Yrjar. They had one son, who was called Thorstein; he was tall and strong, and harsh, and unwilling to let slip anything to which he had a right. There was no one else as big in Norway, and one could scarcely find doors that he could pass through in comfort, and so he was nicknamed Farm-Strong, because he was thought to be so strong that most houses could not hold him. He was a rough fellow, so his father gave him a ship and some men, and after that Thorstein divided his time between raiding and trading, and was successful in both. A t that time King Olaf Tryggvason came to power in Norway, but Earl H akon’s throat was cut by one of his thralls, whose name was Thormod K ark.1 Thorstein Farm-Strong became a courtier of King Olaf; the king thought him a valiant man and set great store by him, but his worth was not recognized by the courtiers, for to them he seemed stubborn and headstrong. The king mostly 1 A .D .

995.

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sent him on errands which others would make excuses to avoid, but sometimes he went on trading voyages to gather treasures for the king.

n Once Thorstein’s ship was lying east off Balagardssida, and he could get no favourable wind. So he went ashore one morning, and by the time the sun was due south he had come to a clearing in the forest. There was a pleasant hillock in the clearing. Up on the hillock he saw a boy whose head was close-cropped, who said: ‘Mother, hand me out my crook and my mittens, for I want to ride off on the witch-ride. Today is a feast day in the Lower World.’ Then a stick with a crook, just like a fire poker, was thrust up out of the hillock. He sat himself astride the stick and put on the mittens and spurred off, as children often do. Thorstein went up to the hillock and spoke in the same words as the boy, and at once a stick and some mittens were thrown out, and a voice said: ‘Now who is taking these?’ ‘Your son Bjalfi’, said Thorstein. Then he sat himself astride the stick and rode off in the same direction as the boy was taking. They came to a broad river and plunged down into it, and it was much the same as if they were striding through smoke; shortly afterwards it cleared away from before their eyes, and they came to a place where a river cascaded down over crags. Thorstein then saw a great township and a large fortress; he and the boy made for the fortress, where the people were sitting at their meal. They went into a hall, and the hall was filled with people, and there was nothing there to drink out of but silver goblets. A fine table stood in the middle of the floor. It seemed to them that everything there was of gold and that there was nothing drunk but wine. Thorstein thought he noticed that nobody could see him or his companion; the latter went along the tables and picked up everything that was dropped. There was a king sitting there in the high-seat, and a queen, and throughout the hall the men were merry. Shortly after Thorstein saw a man come into the hall and greet the king; he said he had been sent to visit him from India, out of the mountain called Lukanus, by the earl who ruled there, and he 181

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told the king that he was an elf-man. He had brought the king a ring, and the king thought he had never seen a finer one; the ring was sent all round the hall to be examined, and they all praised it. It was divided into four sections. There was another treasure which Thorstein saw, which he thought of very great value. This was the tablecloth lying on the king’s table; it had gold borders, and on it were fastened those twelve jewels which are the best of all. Thorstein would willingly have owned this cloth. The idea came into his mind to put his trust in King Olaf’s luck and see whether he could not get hold of the ring. Now Thorstein saw that the king was meaning to put the ring on his arm. Then Thorstein snatched the ring away from him, and with the other hand took the cloth, and all the food turned into dirt, but Thorstein ran to the door—but his crook-stick was left behind in the hall. Now there was a great tumult, and the men ran out and saw where Thorstein went, and set out after him. Now he saw that they were about to get hold of him, and then he said: ‘O King Olaf, if you are as good as my trust in you is great, then help me! ’ But Thorstein was so swift-footed that they did not catch up with him till he had reached the river, and there he made a halt. They encircled him, but Thorstein defended himself well and had killed countless numbers by the time his travelling companion came and brought him his stick, and then they at once disappeared into the broad river. They arrived back at the same hillock we spoke of before, when the sun was in the west. Then the boy threw his stick in, and also a clothes-bag which he had filled with tasty dainties, and Thorstein did the same. The crop-headed boy ran in, but Thorstein took up a position by the opening. He saw two women there, and one was weaving rich cloth, while the other was rocking a baby. This one said: ‘W hat is delaying your brother Bjalfi?’ The boy said: ‘He has not followed me today.’ ‘Then who went off on the crook-stick?’ said she. ‘That was Thorstein Farm-Strong’, said the crop-headed boy, ‘a courtier of King Olaf. He got us both into great trouble, for he took away from the Underworld some things so fine that there can’t be any like them in all Norway. And things got to a point where we might both have been killed, when he flung his stick 182

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down among them and they chased him as far as the place where one goes down; and then I brought him the stick. And he cer­ tainly is a valiant man, for 1 can’t tell how many he killed.’ And now the mound closed up again. Thorstein now went back to his men, and they sailed back to Norway; and he went to find King Olaf at Oslofjord in the east and brought him these treasures and told him about his travels, and the men admired him greatly. The king offered to give him great lands in fieff, but he said he wanted to go on one more journey east to the Baltic. He now stayed with the king for that winter. m In spring Thorstein made ready his ship; he had a longship and four-and-twenty men. And when he had reached Jamtaland they were lying in harbour one day and he went ashore to find some amusement. He came to a clearing in a forest. There there was a large rock, and not far off he saw an extraordinarily ugly dwarf, and he was howling up at the sky above him. His jaws looked to Thorstein as if they reached right round to his ears, but his nose, on the other hand, reached down to his jaws. Thorstein asked him why he was behaving so foolishly. ‘My good m an’, said he, ‘don’t be astonished. D on’t you see that large eagle flying there? It has carried off my son. It’s my opinion that this sorrow is sent by Odin, but I shall die if I lose the child.’ Thorstein shot an arrow at the eagle, piercing it under the wing, and it fell down dead; but Thorstein caught the dwarf’s child in mid air and carried it to the father. The dwarf was filled with joy and said: ‘I owe you a reward for saving my life and my child, so choose yourself a reward of gold or silver.’ ‘First look after your son’, said Thorstein, ‘for I’m not in the habit of taking payment for my strength.’ ‘None the less I am bound to reward you’, said the dwarf. ‘You may not think my sheepskin shirt worth offering, but you will not tire in swimming nor receive any wound while you wear it next to your skin.’ Thorstein put the shirt on, and it suited him well, but this still seemed too little to the dwarf. He took a silver ring out of his

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pouch and gave it to Thorstein, telling him to take good care of it, and saying that he would never be short of money while he had the ring. Then he took a black stone and gave it to Thorstein— ‘and if you hide it in the palm of your hand, nobody will be able to see you. I’ve got nothing else that could be of use to you, but here is a pebble which I’ll give you to amuse you.’ Then he took the pebble out of his pouch; there was a steel spike to go with it. The pebble was three-cornered; it was white in the middle, red on the other side, and a gold rim round it. The dwarf said: ‘If you prick the spike against the pebble where it is white, then there will come so heavy a hailstorm that nobody would dare look straight into it. But if you want to melt that snow away, then you must prick the part where the pebble is gold, and then there will come such sunshine that it will all thaw. But if you prick it where it is red, then there will come from it fire and embers with such a shower of sparks that nobody will be able to look straight into it. You can also hit anything you like with the spike or the pebble, and it will come back to your hand of its own accord as soon as you call it. Now I can give you no other rewards at present.* Thorstein thanked him for these gifts. He now went back to his men; and it was better for him that this journey was made rather than left unmade. Soon afterwards they got a favourable wind and sailed away east into the Baltic. But now dark fogs came down round them so that they lost their course and did not know where they were going, and for half a month they wandered astray. IV

It happened one evening that they got sight of land, so they cast anchor and lay there that night. In the morning the weather was good and there was bright sunshine. They had come into a long fjord, and there they saw fair mountain slopes and forests. There was nobody on board who knew this land. They saw no living thing, neither beast nor bird. They pitched their tents on shore and settled themselves comfortably. Next day Thorstein said to his men: ‘I want to tell you my intentions. You are to wait for me here for six days, for I mean to explore this country.’ This cut them to the heart and they wanted to go with him, but

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Thorstein did not want that. ‘And if I’m not back before seven suns have set’, said he, ‘then you must sail home and tell King Olaf that it was not granted to me that I should return.’ Then they went up with him as far as the forest; thereupon he vanished from them, and they went back to their ship and did as Thorstein had told them. Now as regards Thorstein it must be told that he walked through the forest all day and found nothing of importance, but as day was failing he came to a broad track. He went along the track till it was quite evening, and then he left the track, turned towards a large oak, and climbed up into it. There was enough room in it to lie down; he slept there that night. When the sun rose he heard a great din and men’s voices, and then he saw many men riding by. There were two-and-twenty of them, and they passed by at a great speed. Thorstein was much amazed at their size; he had never seen men as big as these before. The morning now wore on till the sun was due south. v Now Thorstein saw three men riding along, well armed, and so big that he had never seen any men as big as these before. The hugest was the one who rode in the middle, in clothes of cloth-ofgold on a white horse, while the two others rode on grey horses in clothes of red and scarlet cloth. But when they came opposite where Thorstein was, the one who was the leader said, as he halted: ‘W hat’s that alive in the oak?* Then Thorstein climbed down to the path in front of them and greeted them; but they burst into loud laughter, and the big man said: ‘It’s not often we see men like you! W hat’s your name, and where do you come from ?’ Thorstein gave his name and said he was nicknamed FarmStrong—‘But my kinsmen are of Norway. I am a courtier of King Olaf.’ The big man grinned and said: ‘Then it’s mostly lies about the splendour of his court, if he has no one more valiant-looking. I think you ought to have been called Farm-Babe rather than Farm-Strong.’ ‘Let there be something to celebrate this name-giving’, said Thorstein.

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The big man took a ring from his finger and gave it to Thorstein; it weighed three ounces. Thorstein said: ‘W hat’s your name, and what family do you come from, and what land have I come to ? ’ *My name is Gudmund. This realm is the one called Glæsisvellir, and it pays homage to the land called Ogre Land. I am a king’s son, and as for these lads of mine, one is called Fullsterk and the other Allsterk. Did you see no men ride by here this morning?’ Thorstein said: ‘Two-and-twenty men rode by here, and they did not look very small.’ ‘Those were my lads’, said Gudmund. ‘The land which is called Giant Land lies next to this, and there there rules a king whose name is Geirrod, and we are bound to pay tribute to him. My father’s name was Ulfhedin the Trusty, but he was called Gudmund like all the others who live in Glæsisvellir. But my father went to Geirrod’s Dwelling to hand over the tribute to that king, and he met his death in that journey. The king has sent me an invitation to go and drink at my father’s wake and take the same title as my father had, but we are most unwilling to pay homage to the giants.’ 4Why were your men riding ahead?’ asked Thorstein. ‘A great river divides our land’, said Gudmund. ‘Its name is Hemra, and it is so deep and strong that no horses can wade it except those we three champions own. The others had to ride round as far as the source, and we will all meet again this evening.’ ‘It would be fun to go with you’, said Thorstein, ‘and see what notable things may happen there.’ ‘I don’t know how far that would be fitting’, said Gudmund, ‘for you must be a Christian.’ ‘I’ll take the responsibility’, said Thorstein. ‘I wouldn’t want you to come to any harm through m e’, said Gudmund, ‘but if King Olaf were willing to lay his luck on us, then I would have full confidence in your going.’ Thorstein said he was willing to promise that. Gudmund told him to mount behind him, and he did so. They now rode on as far as the river. There was a house there, from which they took certain clothes and clothed themselves and their horses. It was the peculiar virtue of these clothes that no water could wet them, whereas this water was so cold that if anything was wetted by it, frostbite would set in at once. They now rode

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across the river. The horses waded powerfully across; but Gudmund’s horse stumbled and Thorstein’s toe was wetted, and frostbite set in in it at once. But when they had come out of the river they spread their clothes out to dry. Thorstein cut his own toe off, and they thought very highly of his courage. Now they rode on their way. Thorstein told them not to try to hide him—‘for I know how to make myself such a helm of invisi­ bility that nobody will be able to see m e’. Gudmund said that was a useful piece of magic to know. They now had reached the fortress, and Gudmund’s men came to meet him, and now they rode into the fortress. There one could hear all kinds of musical instruments, but Thorstein did not think that they were being played in an accurate manner. King Geirrod came out to meet them and welcomed them warmly, and they were assigned a stone house or hall to sleep in, and men were sent to lead their horses to stall. Gudmund was led into the king’s hall. The king sat in the highseat, and next to him an earl whose name was Agdi. This man ruled over the district which is called Grundir and lies between Ogre Land and Giant Land, and he had his seat at Gnipalund; he was skilled in magic lore, and men said he was more like a troll than a man. Gudmund sat on the steps of the second high-seat opposite the king, for it was their custom that a king’s son should not sit in the high-seat till he had taken the title his father had had and till the first toast had been drunk. There now began the most pleasant of feasts, and the men drank gladly and merrily and then went off to sleep. When Gudmund had gone back to his sleeping-quarters, Thorstein showed himself. They laughed at him. Gudmund told his men who this was and told them not to make a mock of him ; and they slept for the rest of the night.V I VI

Now when morning came they were up early. Gudmund was led to the king’s hall, and the king welcomed him warmly. ‘We now want to know ’, said the king, ‘whether you are willing to show me the same obedience as your father did, and if so I will add to your title—you shall hold Ogre Land, and swear an oath of fealty to me.’ 187

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Gudmund said: ‘It is not lawful to ask so young a man for an oath.’ ‘It must be as I wish’, said the king. Then the king took a cloak of rich cloth and laid it on Gudmund’s shoulders and gave him the name of king, and then took a large horn and drank to Gudmund. The latter took the horn too, and thanked the king; then he stood up and set his foot on the plank in front of the king’s seat and swore this vow: that he would never pay homage nor show obedience to any king while Geirrod was alive. The king thanked him, saying he thought this worth more than if he had sworn a formal oath. Then Gudmund drank from the horn, and went to his seat. Men were then glad and merry. Two men are named together with Earl Agdi; one was called Jokul and the other Frosti; they were jealous men. Jokul snatched up an oxbone and threw it among Gudmund’s band, but Thorstein saw that and caught it in mid air and sent it back, and it struck the nose of a man called Gust and broke his nose and knocked all his teeth out, and he fell unconscious. King Geirrod grew angry and asked who was tossing bones across his table; he said too that before they left there would be some test to see who was strongest at stone throwing. Then the king called to two men, D rott and Hosvir: ‘Go and fetch my gold ball and bring it here.’ They went out, and came back with a seal’s head that weighed a hundred pounds; it was glowing, so that sparks flew from it as from a forge, and its fat dripped from it like glowing pitch. The king said: ‘Now take this ball and throw it at one another. Whoever falls down shall go into outlawry and lose all his posses­ sions, but whoever dares not handle it shall be called a shameful coward.’ vn Now D rott threw the ball at Fullsterk. He clutched at it with one hand, but Thorstein saw that his strength was not enough, so he ran to hold up the ball. They turned towards Frosti (for those champions stood in the front places of the two benches), and Frosti caught it with great strength, but it came so close to his face that his cheek-bone was tom open. He threw the ball at Allsterk, who caught it in both hands but leaned so far back that 188

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his knees would have given under him if Thorstein had not then held him up. Allsterk turned towards Earl Agdi, but he gripped it in both hands; the fat fell into his beard and it all blazed up, and so he was extremely eager to get the ball out of his hands, and he sent it flying at King Gudmund. But Gudmund turned towards King Geirrod; but he flinched away from it, and so it was D rott and Hosvir who were in its path, and they both got their death. But the ball struck a window and so flew out into a ditch which was dug round the fortress, and a blazing fire leaped up. Now that was the end of this game, and the men theh settled to drink­ ing. Earl Agdi said that he always felt a shudder of horror when he passed among Gudmund’s band. In the evening Gudmund went off to sleep, and his men too. They thanked Thorstein for his support, because of which they had come through without mischance. Thorstein said that these tests were not much—‘And what will there be tomorrow by way of sport?’ ‘The king will order wrestling’, said Gudmund, ‘and then they will take their revenge, for there is a great difference between their strength and ours.’ ‘King Olaf’s luck will strengthen us’, said Thorstein. ‘D on’t worry if you are driven towards where I am.’ They slept for the rest of the night. In the morning they all went back to the entertainment, and the cooks came to lay cloths on the tables. King Geirrod asked whether the men would not like to wrestle, and they said it was for him to decide. Then they stripped and caught one another in wrestling grips; Thorstein thought he had never seen such a com­ bat, for everything shook as they fell, and there was much rough play among Earl Agdi’s men. Frosti now stepped forward to the middle of the floor and said: ‘Who will be against m e?’ ‘Someone will take that o n ’, said Fullsterk. They now came to blows and there was a fierce tussle between them, and Frosti was by far the stronger. Now they were driven towards Thorstein. Frosti had lifted Fullsterk up against his chest and was leaning far back. Thorstein kicked him in the hollow of the knee, and Frosti fell on his back and Fullsterk came down on top of him. Frosti’s neck broke and his elbows too. He stood up slowly and said: ‘You aren’t the only ones in this

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game, or why should there be such a foul smell among your company?’ ‘A nose hasn’t far to go to smell what comes out of the jaw s’, said Fullsterk. Jokul then stood up, and Allsterk prepared to face him, and their combat was extremely violent. Jokul, however, was the stronger and drove Allsterk towards the bench where Thorstein was. Jokul tried to drag Allsterk away from that bench and tugged hard at him, but Thorstein held on to him. Jokul was pulling so hard that his feet sank into the floor of the hall up to the ankles; but then Thorstein hurled Allsterk away from him, and Jokul fell on to his back and his foot went out of joint. Allsterk went back to the bench, but Jokul stood up slowly and said: ‘We don’t see all those that are on that bench.’ Geirrod asked Gudmund whether he did not wish to wrestle. He said he had never wrestled, yet he also said he did not want to refuse. The king told Agdi to take vengeance for his men; Agdi said he had long since given it up, but that it was for the king to decide. Then they stripped, and Thorstein thought he had never seen a more troll-like body than Agdi’s—he was as black as hell. Gudmund stood up to face him, and he had skin that was white in colour. Agdi came at him in fury, and laid his paws on Gudmund’s sides with such strength that they were all crushed in against the bones; and they drove one another up and down the hall. When they came to where Thorstein was, Gudmund changed his tactics and twisted nimbly round. Thorstein lay down in front of the earl’s feet so that he fell and struck his nose against the ground, and his rascally nose was broken, and four teeth too. The earl stood up and said: ‘Old men’s falls are heavy, and heaviest of all if three are playing against one.’ 1 Then the men put their clothes on again.

vni Next, the kings sat down at table. Earl Agdi was saying to his king that they must have been deceived by some trick—‘because I am always troubled by the heat as I pass among their company.’ 1 The third who sides with G udm und and Thorstein must be King O laf Tryggvason, who has ‘laid his lu ck ’ on Thorstein.

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‘Let us wait’, said the king. ‘Someone will be coming who will tell us the truth of it.’ The men then settled to drinking. Then two horns were carried into the hall; Earl Agdi owned them, and great treasures they were, and they were called the Hviting Homs. They were two ells long and adorned with gold. The king ordered that a horn should be passed along each bench—‘and each man must drink it dry at one go. Whoever cannot manage that must give the cup­ bearer an ounce of silver.’ Nobody managed to drink it dry except the champions, but Thorstein saw to it that of those who were with Gudmund not one was fined. The man now gladly drank during what was left of that day, and in the evening they went off to sleep. Gudmund thanked Thorstein for his good support; Thorstein asked when the feasting would end. ‘Tomorrow my men are to ride away’, said Gudmund. ‘I know that the king will now display all he has; the treasures will now be shown. The king will now order his own drinking horn, the big one, to be brought in; its name is Grim the Good, and it is a very great treasure, though also full of magic, and it is adorned with gold. On its pointed end is a man’s head with flesh and mouth, and this speaks to men and foretells future events and says whether there is enmity to be expected. It would be the death of us if the king knew there was a Christian man with us. We must certainly not be niggardly in our gifts to him.* Thorstein said that Grim would speak nothing more than King Olaf willed—‘and it’s my opinion that King Geirrod is fated for death. I think it would be best if you all followed my advice from now on. I shall show myself tomorrow.’ But they said this was a dangerous plan. Thorstein said that King Geirrod wished their death—‘but what more can you tell me about Grim the G ood?’ ‘There is this to tell about him: a man of average size can stand upright under the curve of him; and there is a metal band half a yard deep round his rim, and the best drinker in their company can only drink enough to clear this band, but the king drinks him dry in one go. Every man has to give Grim some treasure, but he thinks the greatest honour he can receive is to be drunk dry in one go. Now I know that it will fall to me to drink from him first, but it is more than any man can bear, to drink all that in one go.’

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Thorstein said: ‘You must put my shirt on, for then no harm can come to you even if there is death in the drink. Take the crown off your head and give it to Grim the Good and whisper in his ear that you will honour him far more than Geirrod does, and then you must act as if you were drinking. But there will be poison in the horn, so you are to pour it down inside your clothes, and it will do you no harm. And when the drinking contest is over you must make your men ride away.’ Gudmund said it would be done as he advised, ‘but if Geirrod dies, then I shall have all Giant Land; but if he lives longer, it will mean death for us.’ After that they slept for the rest of the night. IX

In the morning they were up early and took their clothes. Then King Geirrod came to them and bade them drink a farewell cup with him, and they did so. First from the Hviting Homs a measure was drunk, and then healths were drunk to Odin and Thor. Next in came many instruments being played, and also two men, some­ what smaller than Thorstein, and these were carrying Grim the Good. Everyone stood up and then knelt to him. Grim was frowning. Geirrod said to Gudm und: ‘Take Grim the Good, for this is the bowl in which you must confirm our agreement.’ Gudmund went up to Grim the Good and took off his own gold crown and put it on him, and then spoke in his ear as Thorstein had told him to. Then he let the contents of the horn run down his shirt, and there was poison in it. He drank to Geirrod and kissed the horn’s end, and Grim was smiling as he left him. Then Geirrod took the refilled hom and hailed Grim in wel­ come, and bade him tell him whether any danger was near—‘I have often seen you looking in better mood.’ He took off his own gold necklace and gave it to Grim, and then drank to Earl Agdi, and it sounded just like breakers crash­ ing on a rock as the drink poured down his throat, and he drank it all dry. Grim tossed his head; then he was carried to Earl Agdi, who gave him two gold rings and prayed him for mercy, and then drank him dry in three draughts and gave him back to the cup-bearer.

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Grim said: ‘Men grow less bold as they grow old.’ Then the horn was refilled, and Jokul and Fullsterk were to drink together. Fullsterk drank first; then Jokul took it and looked into the horn and said that that had been a puny fellow’s drink, and struck Fullsterk with the horn. But Fullsterk drove his fist against Jokul’s nose so that his rascally chin was broken and the teeth knocked out. Then there was great uproar, but Geirrod told the men not to let it be said that they parted on such bad terms. They made peace again at once, and Grim the Good was carried out. X

Shortly afterwards a man came striding into the hall; they were all amazed at how small he was. It was Thorstein Farm-Babe. He went up to Gudmund and said that the horses were ready for them to ride. Geirrod asked what sort of a child that was. Gudmund said: ‘That is my page, whom King Odin sent me, and he is the king’s prized possession and knows many little tricks; and if you think him at all useful, I ’ll give him to you.’ ‘W hat an imposing hero!’ said the king. ‘I want to see his nimbleness’—and he asked Thorstein to play some little trick. Thorstein took his pebble and spike and pricked it where it was white. There came so heavy a hailstorm that nobody dared look straight into it, and there was so much snow in the hall that it was up over their ankles. A t this the king laughed. Now Thorstein stabbed the pebble where it was gold. Then there came such hot sunshine that the snow was all thawed away in a short while. A sweet fragrance followed, and Geirrod said he was a clever fellow. But Thorstein said there was still one trick left, called the Whipping Game; the king said he would like to see that. Thor­ stein stood in the middle of the floor of the hall and pricked the part of the pebble which was red. Sparks sprang out from it. Then he ran up and down the hall in front of every seat. The shower of sparks began to increase, so that every man was forced to shield his eyes, but King Geirrod laughed at this; the fire then increased still more, so that everyone thought things had gone too far. Thorstein had previously told Gudmund that he was to go outside and mount.

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Thorstein ran over to Geirrod and said: ‘Do you want the game to go further?’ ‘Let me see, boy’, said he. Then Thorstein pricked yet more strongly, so that the sparks flew into Geirrod’s eyes. Thorstein ran to the door and flung the pebble and the spike, and one went into one eye of Geirrod and one into the other, and he crashed down dead on the floor. But Thorstein went out. By then Gudmund was on horseback, and Thorstein told them to ride—‘for now this is no place for weak men to stay in ’. They rode as far as the river, and by then the pebble and spike had returned. Now they rode on across the river, and so back to the place where they had first met. Then Thorstein said: ‘Here we will part now. My men must be thinking it time I came back to them.’ ‘Come home with me’, said Gudmund, ‘and I will reward you for your good help.’ ‘Later I’ll come back to claim th a t’, said Thorstein. ‘But you must go back to Geirrod’s Dwellings with a great host, for now the land is in your power.’ ‘You shall have your way’, said Gudmund, ‘but you must carry my greetings to King Olaf.’ Then he took a golden goblet and a silver dish and a twenty-ell hand-towel woven with gold, and sent these to the king; and he told Thorstein to come back to visit him, and they parted affectionately. XI

But now Thorstein saw Earl Agdi striding along in a violent fit of giant-fury. Thorstein went after him, and then he caught sight of the huge farmhouse which Agdi owned; there was an orchard behind a barred gate, and by it there stood a maiden. She was Agdi’s daughter and was named G udrun; she was tall and beautiful. She greeted her father and asked him what news there was. ‘There’s plenty of news’, said he. ‘King Geirrod is dead, and Gudmund of Glæsisvellir has betrayed us all and hidden a Christian man in there, and his name is Thorstein Farm-Strong. He has cast fire in our eyes. Now I am going to kill his men.’ 194

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He threw down the Hviting Homs there and ran towards the forest as if he were frantic. Thorstein went up to Gudrun; she greeted him and asked him his name, and he said he was called Thorstein Farm-Babe, a courtier of King Olaf. ‘The largest men there must be large indeed, if you are the babe’, said she. ‘Will you go away with me’, said Thorstein, ‘and accept the Christian faith?’ ‘There’s not much happiness that I’d be abandoning here’, said she, ‘for my mother is dead. She was the daughter of Earl Ottar of Holmgard, and she and my father were very unlike in character, for my father’s might is mostly trollish—and now I can see that he is fated for death. But if you will bring me back here later, I’ll go with you.’ Then she took her things, but Thorstein took the Hviting Homs. Then they went into the forest, and saw where Agdi was going; he was howling loudly and had his hand over his eyes, for it had come about that as soon as he saw Thorstein’s ship there came such a pain in his rascally eyes that he could not see. It was sunset by the time they both reached the ship, and Thorstein’s men were ready to sail off, but when they saw Thorstein they were glad. Then Thorstein went aboard, and they sailed away. Nothing is told of their journey till they came home to Norway. xn That winter King Olaf had set up residence in Thrandheim. Thorstein found the king at Yule and brought him the precious things which Gudmund had sent him, and the Hviting Homs, and many other treasures. He told the king of his travels, and showed him Gudrun. The king thanked him, and they all praised his courage and thought highly of him. Then the king had Gudrun baptized and taught the faith. Thorstein played the Whipping Game at Yule, and men thought it fine amusement. The Hviting Homs were used for drinking healths, and there were two men to each hom. But as for the goblet Gudmund had sent the king, no one could manage to drink it dry except Thorstein Farm-Babe. The hand-towel would not bum even if it was thrown on the fire, but was then brighter than before. H

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Thorstein told the king that he wished to celebrate his wedding with Gudrun, and the king gave him leave, and it was a splendid feast. And on the first night, as they lay together in the one bed and the curtain had been drawn, the wooden panelling split open by Thorstein’s head, and it was Earl Agdi who had come there intending to kill him. But such great heat burst out to meet him that he did not dare come in. Then he turned away. The king then came in and struck him over the head with a gold-adorned staff, but he plunged down into the ground. The king kept watch all night, but in the morning the Hviting H om s had disappeared. Thorstein stayed with the king that winter, and he and Gudrun loved each other dearly. In spring Thorstein asked leave to sail east along the Baltic and visit King Gudmund, but the king said that could not be done unless he gave his word to come back, and Thorstein promised this. The king told him to keep loyally to his faith—‘and then there will be more under your power than theirs out there in the east’. They parted affectionately, and everyone wished him well, for Thorstein had become popular. He sailed away eastwards, and there is nothing told about this journey except that it went well. He came to Glæsisvellir, and Gudmund welcomed him warmly. Thorstein said: ‘What news have you heard from Geirrod’s Dwellings?’ ‘I went there’, said Gudmund, ‘and they gave the land into my power, and my son Heidrek Wolfskin rules it.’ ‘Where is Earl Agdi?’ said Thorstein. ‘After you had gone, he ordered a burial mound to be raised for him ’, said Gudmund, ‘and went into it with much wealth. But Jokul and Frosti were drowned in the Hemra river when they left the banquet, so now I have power over the district of Grundir.’ ‘It would be a grave m atter’, said Thorstein, ‘if you took my share away from me, for it seems to me that Gudrun ought to have the whole inheritance of her father Agdi.’ ‘If you are willing to become my m an’, said Gudmund. ‘Then you must not raise difficulties about my faith’, said Thorstein. ‘I agree to th a t’, said Gudmund. Then they went to Grundir, and Thorstein took that district into his power.

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xm Thorstein built himself a house at Gnipalund, because Earl Agdi had walked again and laid the farmstead waste. Thorstein became a great chieftain. Gudrun bore a large boy-baby soon after this, and he was named Brynjolf. It was impossible to rely that Earl Agdi would do nothing to annoy Thorstein. One night Thorstein got out of bed and saw that Earl Agdi was walking about, but he did not dare come past the gateway anywhere, because there was a cross over every door. Thorstein went to the burial mound, and it was open, and he went in and took away the Hviting Homs. Then Earl Agdi came into the mound, but Thorstein ran past him and got outside, and set a cross in the doorway; and the mound shut itself once more, and there was never any sign of Agdi again. The following summer Thorstein went to Norway and brought the Hviting Homs to King Olaf. Then he obtained permission to leave and sailed back to his own land. The king bade him keep loyally to his faith. We have never heard anything about Thorr stein again. But when King Olaf disappeared from the Long Snake the Hviting Homs disappeared. There we end the tale of Thorstein Farm-Babe.

The Story of Orm Storolfsson (Extracts from Orms þáttr Stórólfssonar) I T h e r e was a man called Hæng, son of Ketil Earl of Namdcel, and the mother of Earl Ketil was called Hrafnhild, daughter of Ketil Hæng of Hrafnista. Hæng was a noble man. He was at feud 197

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with King Harald Dofri’s Fosterling1 because of the slaying of the sons of Hildrid, and because of this he fled the country. Hæng sailed west across the sea to try to reach Iceland. They got sight of land, having come upon it from the south; they sailed up into a wide estuary and landed on the eastern shore; that river is now called the Thjorsa. They explored the land far and wide. Hæng spent the first winter on the far side of Ranga river, but in the spring he took possession of the land between the Thjorsa and Markarfljot, all that lay between the mountains and the shore, and set up house at H of on the Eastern Ranga. His wife’s name was Ingun; she bore a son that spring, who was named Hrafn. Hæng gave land to his shipmates and also sold some to others, and they were reckoned among the Settlers of Iceland. Herjolf was the name of Hœng’s second son, and his son was Sumarlidi; Helgi was the name of the third; Vestar was the name of the fourth. Hrafn Hœngsson was the first Law-Speaker in Iceland; he lived at H of after his father, and a daughter of his was Thorlaug whom Jorund the chieftain married. There was a fifth son that Hæng had, whose name was Storolf; he is said to have been the greatest of his sons, and Hrafn the noblest. Storolf married Thoroma, sister of the Thorbjom who was the father of Thorolf. Storolf lived at Hval, which after that became known as Storolfshval. Storolf was the strongest among all men, and everyone said that he did not live in the one shape only; * he was a wise man and learned in many matters, and so because of this he was said to be skilled in magic. He had a son by his wife Thoroma, whose name was Orm; early in life he was both tall and strong and skilled in many feats, for when he was seven years old he could match himself against the strongest men in sheer force and in every kind of feat. He did not get much affection from his father, and indeed he was difficult with him and would not do any work, but his mother loved him dearly. But Orm was one to lie by the fire all day. So now he grew up in this way till he was twelve years old. Storolf was a very energetic man and keen on working. It 1 i.e. H a rald F a irh air, K ing o f N orw ay c. 885-c. 942, w ho w as said to have been fostered by a giant n am ed D ofri. * i.e. th a t his strength was su p ern atu ral, an d th a t h e could tu rn in to an anim al a t will.

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happened one summer day that Storolf gave orders that the hay should be gathered in, and they set out with four-horse teams. Storolf was stacking the hay, but there were too few hands to pass it up, and he thought it was beginning to look rather like rain; he shouted then to his son Orm and told him to help pitch the hay up, so Orm did so too. And as the showers were beginning to come on, Storolf set to work violently at the hay and taunted Orm bitterly, saying he should prove his worth and use his strength, and saying he was lackadaisical and had no vigour and was more notable for size than for strength or toughness. Orm grew angry now and stacked up all the scattered hay in a little while, and at that moment the horse and cart came up to them. Orm then heaved up the cart-load and the horse too, with all the harness, and threw it up on to the haystack, and that so sud­ denly that old Storolf fell off the haystack and down into the lane. It was so hard a fall that three of his ribs were broken. Storolf then said: ‘It’s a bad thing to taunt overbearing men, and it’s easy to see you will never be prudent.’ All men thought this a great proof of strength to be shown by so young a man. n It is said again that one day Storolf came to speak to his son Orm and told him to go out into the meadows and mow—‘for the farm-hands aren’t getting on well this summer.’ ‘Where’s the scythe I ’m to mow with?’ said Orm. Storolf found him a scythe-shaft and a new scythe-blade, and they were both very fine ones. Orm twisted the blade till it broke in his hands and snapped the shaft under his foot and said neither of them would do for him. Then Orm went off and got himself twenty pounds of iron and went to the smithy and made himself a scythe-blade. After that he took a thick pole from the wood-pile and trimmed it to the right height for him and fixed two big handles to it, and then bound it round with iron, and after this he went down to the meadows. The lie of the land was such that there were lots of little hillocks there, but the grass was thick and good. Orm began to mow, and he mowed all through the day till evening. Storolf sent his farmwomen to rake up the fresh-cut grass behind Orm. But when they 199

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came to the meadows they saw that Orm had mowed so that the hay lay in swathes; they took hold of them, meaning to spread the hay out, but they did not find that it went as smoothly as they expected, for they could not manage to move any of the swathes, neither with rakes nor with their hands; so then they went home and told the farmer. He set out and rode down to the meadows that evening. He saw then that Orm had mowed off all the hillocks and piled them together in the swathe, so he told him to stop then and not to ruin anything else. Orm did so, and by this time his scythe was worn right down to the ridge at the back of the blade. By this time Orm had mown a field big enough to yield eight haystacks—and these are the only meadows which are level at Storolfshval, and it is said to be one day’s work to mow the ground between each swathe; the traces of this can still be seen nowadays.

m There was a man by the name of Dufthak; he lived on the farm which was called Holt and which since then has been known as Dufthaksholt. Dufthak was a big man and was under the power of a strong spell, so that he did not live in the one shape only. For a long time he and Storolf had mostly been at loggerheads, but from time to time they would be on good terms; all the same, things came to a bad end between them at last, for some men say that Dufthak caused Storolf’s death. Now time passed on until Orm was eighteen years old; and then there came so hard a winter that there was no grazing to be had. Storolf had much livestock, and then his store of hay began to dwindle rapidly as time went on, so that he felt he could foresee that he would have to slaughter his stock unless someone would lend him a helping hand; moreover, there was no hay to be got anywhere in the neighbourhood, except from Dufthak, who had some hay to spare but would not give it up to anyone. A t that time he and Storolf were on rather bad terms. Storolf then sent his son Orm to see Dufthak to get some hay from him, because time was passing and the stock were very starved. Orm then went to see Dufthak and said he wanted to buy hay from him, but he said he had none for sale. Then, as Orm pressed him hard, Dufthak said he could have as big a load as he could

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carry himself, if he wanted it—‘And it may be some use to you all die same, if everyone in the neighbourhood contributes as m uch.’ Orm answered: ‘This is a small contribution, but I’ll take it all the same. Where am I to take it from ?’ ‘Out in the yard’, said Dufthak, ‘there stand two hayricks, one of four fathoms and the other of two, and a good two fathoms broad and almost as high, and seeming likely to collapse; you can take it from there, from the smaller one.’ ‘I must go home first’, said Orm, ‘and get myself a cord.’ And so he did, and now he told his father about this. ‘This is a beggarly contribution’, said Storolf, ‘and he certainly will get no payment for it from me. I think, however, that it would be a better plan for me to go and fetch the load, for I would be able to carry more than you.’ ‘That can’t be done’, said Orm, ‘for the amount given was to be as much as I could carry.’ ‘Then brace yourself up, you milksop’, said Storolf. Then Orm turned away and went out to the storehouse and took the ropes of ten horses and took off their toggles and twisted them together both in length and thickness so as to make one rope out of them. After this he went over to Holt and out to the stack-yard and broke the gate down, went into the yard and up to the bigger hayrick and stripped off the turf from it and the parts which were the worst. Then he rested one hand against it and shook the loose hay down to the ground, then pulled the rope under it and fastened the toggles on again and twisted it round the haystack; then he bent down and strapped it to him and lifted it up on to his back. But some men say that he had added the smaller rick to it first. He went home with it to Storolfshval; the farmer was standing outside and saw it and was filled with admiration for him, and said he had to admit that he could not have done as much himself. Then it was carried into the bam, which was filled by it. This hay lasted so well for farmer Storolf’s livestock that he did not slaughter any that spring. From then on there was a warmer feeling than before between father and son, for Storolf saw how outstanding Orm was compared with other men. But when old Dufthak came out that day and saw the signs of this work—that his hayricks were both gone and all that was

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left was good-for-nothing rubbish, and yet there was nothing to be done about it—and when he saw too how Orm was walking out of the yard carrying both the hayricks, he thought it a great wonder how big a load Orm could carry. In the spring Dufthak went to Hval and claimed the price of the hay from Storolf, and got nothing. He had thought the hay worth no less than the price of six cows. From this there sprang up a long-lasting dislike and a great enmity between him and Storolf, of which more must be said later.1

IV

There was a man called Virfil; he had authority over a village in Denmark at the place which is called Vendilskagi. He was a brother of Veseti in Borgundarholm. Virfil was a married man, and he and his wife had a son who was called Asbjorn. He soon grew to be tall and handsome and skilled in many feats; he was more courteous than any other man, for which reason he was called Asbjorn the Magnificent. There was a custom in those days that certain women, who were called wise-women, went about the country and foretold men’s fates for them, their good luck, and other matters which men wished to learn about. This company came to farmer Virfil’s house; there was a good welcome there for the wise-woman, for there was fine feasting there. And when men had taken their seats there in the evening, the wise-woman was asked what she fore­ saw, and she said that Virfil would live there till old age and be thought an able farmer. ‘And as for the young man who is sitting there beside you, farmer, it is a good thing for him to hear his fate, for he will travel far and wide and be thought a fine man (and indeed he is one of the best), and perform many exploits and die of old age—if he does not go to North Mær in Norway, nor anywhere farther to the north in that land.’ ‘It’s my opinion’, said Asbjorn, ‘that I would be no more likely to die there than here.’ 1 The author, however, does not return to the subject.

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‘You will not be the one to decide on that, whatever your opinion may be’, said the wise-woman; and then there came this song from her mouth: ‘Though you send Your sailing steed Fleetly to tread The flood so broad, Fate draws near In the north by Mcer, Your bane you’ll meet there— Best say no more.’ After this the wise-woman stayed there for as long as had been arranged, and then was sent on her way with fine gifts. Asbjorn now grew u p ; and as soon as his age was ripe for it, he spent his time in journeys to various lands and so learnt to know the customs of other men, and was highly esteemed by all chieftains. His mother came of a northern family from Hordaland and North Mær in Norway, descendants of Bifru-Kari. Asbjorn stayed there for a long while among his mother’s kinsmen, highly esteemed for his feats and accomplishments. v Now—to take up the tale again from where it was broken off— Orm Storolfsson was living in Iceland, and when he came to the age of thirty he took a passage in the ship of a man called Ozur Horzki, who had laid his ship ashore in the mouth of the Thjorsa, and went abroad with him. Ozur had an estate in Hordaland, and Orm spent the winter with him. At that time Asbjorn the Magnificent was in Hordaland, and he and Orm would often meet, and they took to each other and a friendship quickly sprang up between them. They put each other to the test in many feats, and were equal in all those that were not tests of sheer strength, but Orm was by far the stronger. It came to pass that they took the oath of blood-brotherhood according to the ancient custom, that whichever of them lived longer would avenge the other if he had died by violence. In spring Asbjorn told Orm that he wanted to go north to Mær to Eyvind the Snake and Bergthor Berstil, his kinsmen. *H

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‘Indeed I feel curious’, said he, ’whether I ’ll drop dead as soon as I get there, as that wretched wise-woman said.’ Orm said he was ready for that journey—‘but I don’t think you ought to be so eager about it, because they know quite enough, do people of the sort that she is.* Then they went north to Mær with two ships, and Eyvind and Bergthor gave their kinsman Asbjorn a very warm welcome, for they were first cousins of his. This was in the early days of the reign of Hakon, Earl of Hladir.1There Asbjorn got to hear of two islands lying to the north of that district, both of them called Saudey, and the master of the outer island was a giant who was called Brusi. He was a great troll and a man-eater, and people thought that he would never be overcome by human beings, however many they might be; his mother, however, was even worse to deal with—and she was a coal-black she-cat, and as big as the sacred oxen, which are the biggest. The men of that land could get no profit from either of those islands because of these harmful creatures. Asbjorn grew eager to go to the islands, but Orm persuaded him not to, saying there were few things worse than to have anything to do with such fiends, and so nothing came of that journey. They turned southwards to Denmark again in summer and spent the winter with Virfil. But when winter was past and spring had come they went raiding with five ships and went far and wide among the islands and the outer skerries and won victory and triumph wherever they went. No other men at that time were more famous as Vikings than they were. And in the course of the summer they set sail for Gautland and went raiding there. At that time the ruler there was an earl who was called Herroed; there they fought many battles and won power over that country, and they spent the third winter there. There were great drinking-bouts there that winter and much merry-making. It happened one day that winter, as Asbjorn and Orm were sitting drinking, that Asbjorn spoke this verse: ‘ Making spells, to me she spoke, Spinning long songs of it— I was fated if my foot should Fare northwards forth to Mær. 1 Jarl H a k o n S igurdarson, ru ler o f N orw ay c. 976-95. See p. 141.

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N ot a whit she knew, that witch! Once again with Gautland men Do I revel—and the devil Damn soothsayers’ sayings!’ In the spring Orm and Asbjom set off, not being content to stay there any longer, and went northwards during the summer to Denmark and so to Norway, and for the fourth winter they were with Ozur Horzki. And in the next spring the sworn brothers discussed things together; Asbjom wanted to go on raiding, but Orm wanted to go back to Iceland, and therefore they parted, though affectionately and in friendship. Orm went back to Iceland with Ozur Horzki; they had a good journey and brought their ship to land in the bay of Leiruvag at the foot of the uplands. Then Orm heard the news that old Storolf, his father, had died through his feud with Dufthak. There were few men to whom his death was a grief. Then Orm went home to Storolfshval and set up house there and lived there for a long while, after he had taken vengeance for his father Storolf, as is told in the íslendingaskrá.

vi Shortly after Orm and Asbjom had parted, Asbjom felt eager to go north to the Saudey islands. He went aboard ship with three-and-twenty men, held his course north past Mær, and late one day came to Outer Saudey, where they went ashore and pitched their tents. They stayed there all night and noticed nothing. Early next morning Asbjom got up, dressed himself, and took his weapons and went up inland, but told his men to wait for him. And when some little time had passed since Asbjom had gone off, they became aware that a horrible she-cat had come to the opening of the tent. She was coal-black in colour and rather fear­ some, for fire seemed to be blazing from her nostrils and mouth; nor were her eyes pleasant. They were very startled at this sight and were filled with terror. The she-cat sprang in among them and seized them one after another, and it is said that some she 205

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swallowed, but some she ripped to death with her claws and teeth. Twenty men she killed there within a short while, but three got out and got away and on board ship and set sail at once away from that land. But Asbjom went on his way till he came to the cave of Brusi, and he walked into it at once. Everything seemed rather dark to his eyes, and indeed it was shadowy in the cave. He was aware of nothing before he was snatched up into the air and flung down so hard that he thought it a marvel. He then became aware that the giant Brusi was there—and he seemed rather large. Brusi then said: ‘You have indeed shown great eagerness to make your way here; now you’ll get what you came for, for you shall lose your life here in such torments that it will stop others from coming to seek me out in hostile ways.’ Then he stripped Asbjom of his clothes, for there was so great a difference between them in strength that the giant could settle matters between them unopposed. Asbjom saw a great dividing wall across the cave, and a large opening in the middle of the wall; a large iron pillar stood there also, a little in front of the wall. ‘Now is the time to find o u t’, said Brusi, ‘whether you are any tougher than other men.’ ‘There is little chance of testing th a t’, said Asbjom. ‘Things have turned out unluckily for me, so that I can’t defend myself at all; and it is most likely that my approaching death was calling to me.’ And he spoke this verse: ‘No man on his feats Should found his trust, Be he never so strong Or sturdy of will; His force and his heart Will fail each man At his life’s last day, When his luck shall break.* Thereupon Brusi opened Asbjom’s belly and took hold of the end of his gut and tied it round the iron pillar, and led Asbjom round and round it; but Asbjom walked without faltering, and

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thus in the end all his guts were wound out of him. During this time Asbjorn spoke these verses: ‘ Say to my fair mother She may not, Danish lady, Comb her son this summer Or smooth his shock of locks. She had my word of honour That home I’d surely come— Now the blade of sword is bent To bite in fighter’s side. ‘How different those days when We drank our ale so gaily, Or floated on our fleet ship Up the fjord of Hjordaland! Taking mead, we talked then, Great tales, together gathered— Sole, I now am sorely pressed In such an ogre’s clutches. ‘How different those days when We doughty stout-hearts sailed! The stern son of Storolf Stood high upon the prow; He laid the ship, our leader, To land at Eyrasund— Now, in fell trap fallen, Fine halls of trolls I dwell in. ‘How different those days when Through deathly storms went Orm, Granting to grey war-hags’ mounts Gore to drink unstinting! Then fell darkness o’er the field; He fed the wolves with many dead; Valiant, he dealt violent blows— His vows were not forgotten. 207

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‘ How different those days when I dealt out, aiding comrades, Strokes of Odin’s biting sword Far south on every skerry! Ere now oft with arrows Orm performed great feats, Where doughty fighters fallen In fray then lay a-dying. ‘How different those days when We dwelt all together: Gaut and Geiri, Glum and Starri, Sam and Sæming, Sons of Oddvar, Hauk and Hama, Hrok and Toki. ‘How different those days when O’er deep seas we were sweeping: Hrani and Hogni, Hjalm and Stefnir, Grani and Gunnar, Grim and Scerkvir, Tumi and Torfi, Teit and Geitir. ‘How different those days when We disdained to waver In the swords’ assembly! No slacker I in hacking With my whetted weapon At warriors, sorely striking; But always in the onslaught Orm stood forth the foremost. ‘ Fierce would be The face of Orm If he could see This cruel pain;

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An ugly payment The ogre would get For treating me thus, If trapped by Orm.’ Thereupon Asbjom gave up his life with great courage and valour. vn It must be said that the three men who got away set to row vigorously and never halted till they came to the mainland; they told the news of what had happened on their journey, saying they were of the opinion that Asbjom must be dead, but they were unable to say anything of how he had borne himself at his death. They joined the ship of some merchants and so got a passage south to Denmark. This news now spread far and wide and was thought important tidings. At that time there was a change of chieftains in Norway. Earl Hakon was dead, and Olaf Tryggvason had arrived in the country and was preaching the true faith to everyone.1 Orm Storolfsson, out in Iceland, heard of the journey and death of Asbjom, as men thought it must have taken place. This seemed to him a heavy loss, and he was unwilling to stay in Ice­ land any longer, but got himself a passage from Reydafjord and went abroad from there. They came to Norway by the northern route, and he spent the winter at Thrandheim. By then Olaf had ruled Norway for three years. In spring Orm made ready to sail to the Saudey islands. They were almost as many on that ship at Asbjom and his companions had been. They came to the smaller Saudey late one evening and pitched tent on land and lay there that night. Men say that Orm had been signed with the Sign of the Cross 2 in Denmark and had been baptized in Iceland. And when Orm had fallen asleep he saw a woman come into the tent, tall and sturdy, fine and handsomelooking. She walked forward into the tent to where Orm was lying, and there halted. Orm thought that he greeted her and 1 A .D .

995.

2 This was a ceremonial blessing o f those who were not yet ready to receive baptism. Many Vikings found it convenient to undergo this ceremony when travelling in Christian lands.

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asked her her name, and she said she was called Menglod, the daughter of Ofotan from Ofotansfjord in the north. ‘And we are half-brother and sister, Brusi and I, by our father; but I had a human mother, whereas his mother is the coal-black she-cat which is in the cave with him. Yet, even if we are akin, we are not alike in character. He is master of the outer island, and that is by far the better one; he proves himself so hard a neigh­ bour to me that I think I will flee away. I know too what your errand is; you meant to avenge your sworn-brother Asbjom, and that is a good reason, for it is a valiant man whose cause you are taking up. Indeed, you must feel curious to know how he was sent to his death, but there are not many people who know enough to speak about it, apart from Brusi and myself.’ Then she began the whole story and told of Asbjom’s death, and she also recited all the verses which he had spoken. ‘But I do not feel able to foresee which will prove the more powerful, the trollish magic of Brusi and his mother, or your good luck; but he fears no man except you alone. He has taken precautions in case you should happen to come; he has placed such a rock in the cave door that no one can get into the cave while it stands there, and though you are strong you have not the strength either to face Brusi or to move the rock away. Now here are some gloves which I will give you, and by their nature there is this power in them: those who wear them will never feel any lack of strength. If it should happen that you overcome Brusi, I would wish you to give Saudey into my possession; and I had rather be on your side, because you have taken my fancy, although we cannot have joy of each other because of your faith.’ Then the woman vanished, but Orm awoke—and there the gloves were, and he could remember all the verses. Orm got up then and woke his men and sailed out to the island, went ashore, and bade his men wait on board ship till the same hour of the next day, but sail away if he had not come by then. vm Now Orm went on his way till he came to the cave. He saw now that rock, so huge that it seemed impossible for any man to move it away; nevertheless he put on the gloves, Menglod’s gift, and after that took hold of the rock and moved it away from the

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doorway, and Orm thought that that had proved the greatest test of his strength. Then he went into the cave, and placed an inlaid iron blade in the doorway.1 But when he had gone inside he saw how the she-cat came leaping with gaping jaws. Orm had a bow and a quiverful of arrows; he fitted an arrow to the string and shot at the cat, three arrows—but she caught them all between her jaws and bit them in two. Then she threw herself on Orm and drove her claws into his breast so that Orm’s knees gave under him, and the claws went through his clothes so that they pierced to the bone. She then meant to bite Orm in the face; he discovered then that nothing could help him, and thereupon he vowed to God Himself and to the holy Apostle Peter to go on a pilgrimage to Rome if he should overcome the she-cat and her son Brusi. After this Orm found that the cat's strength was dwindling. Then he gripped her by the throat with one hand and by the backbone with the other and got on to her back and broke the backbone within her in two, and so left her dead. Orm then saw how there was a great dividing wall across the cave. He went farther in then and up to it, and when he came to it he saw a great pike sticking out and through the wall; it was thick, and long too. Orm then took a grip on the pike and pulled it outwards. Then Brusi tugged the pike back towards him, and it was so firmly held that it would not move at all. Brusi was amazed at this and stuck his head out over the top of the dividing wall; and when Orm saw this he clutched Brusi’s beard with both hands, but Brusi jerked himself back hard to the other side, and so they pulled hard one against the other over the wall. Orm had twisted the beard over his hand and tugged so hard that he tore off the whole area of Brusi’s beard, the skin of the chin and of both jaws and the fulness of the cheeks right up to the ears, and with this the flesh went too, right down to the bone. Brusi puckered his eyebrows and scowled rather hideously. Örm then leapt in over the dividing wall; they caught hold of each other and wrestled a long while. Then loss of blood made Brusi very weary, and he began to yield a little; Orm then pressed onwards and drove Brusi back against the wall and forced him downwards and backwards across it. 1 P resum ably to prevent any o th e r trolls from entering th e cave while he tack led Brusi a n d his m other. T h ere is a w idespread folk-belief th a t iron keeps evil beings a t bay.

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‘In the beginning*, said Brusi, ‘as soon as I heard tell of you, I had a foreboding that I would have some trouble through you— and that has indeed come true now. Now, make quick work of it and cut off my head. But it was true that I badly tortured Asbjom the Magnificent when I wound all the guts out of him, yet he did not give way at all before he died.’ ‘You acted wickedly’, said Orm, ‘to torture him so badly—and he so valiant a man! Anyway, you must have something to remember it by.’ Then he drew a knife and carved the blood-eagle1 on his back and cut away all the ribs from the backbone and pulled out the lungs. Thus Brusi lost his life, with little valour. After that Orm kindled a fire and burned both Brusi and the she-cat to ashes. And when he had finished this task he left the cave, with two chests full of gold and silver: and whatever was of greater value he gave to Menglod, and the island too. He and she parted on the most friendly terms. Orm returned to his men at the appointed time, and thereupon they set sail for the mainland.

The Story of Thorstein Oxleg (porsteins þáttr uxafóts, chs. 2-15) i

T here was a man called Thorkel who lived at Krossavik and was the son of Geitir. He was a most outstanding man, and valiant, and was said to be completely fearless; he was unmarried at the time when this story took place. His sister grew up with him; her name was Oddny, the most beautiful of women and more skilled than any other woman. Yet her life was spoilt by a grave defect in her speech, for she had no power of speaking whatever, and had been bom that way. She and her brother loved each other dearly. 1 T his m eth o d o f killing is frequently a ttrib u te d to w a rrio rs o f th e V iking Age. I t m ay originally have h ad som e ritu al o r m agical significance.

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Thorkel had a thrall who was wholly of foreign blood, and who was called Freystein. He was neither ugly nor difficult to manage like other thralls, but on the contrary was gentle and pleasant to deal with and handsomer than almost any other man, and therefore he was nicknamed Freystein the Fair. There was a man called Krumm, who lived at Krummsholt— that farm is deserted now. He was the son of Vemund, the son of Asbjom, the son of Krumm the Old. (Krumm the Old had emi­ grated from Vors in Norway to Iceland; he had settled the land from Hafranes in to Therunes and all the outlying parts, both Skrud and all the outer islands and then in along the opposite shore as far as Therunes.) Krumm the Younger had married a woman called Thorgunna, daughter of Thorstein (who was the son of Vetrilidi, the son of Asbjom, a nobleman from Beitsstadir, the son of Olaf Long-Neck, the son of Bjorn Whale’s-Flank). Thorgunna was a wise woman and not very well liked, knowing a great deal, not beautiful, keeping to the old heathen ways, rather bad-tempered, and not like ordinary people. Krumm was not a rich man. There was a great difference in age between him and his wife; Thorgunna was a woman in the prime of life when this adventure took place. They had no children—none, at least, that any stories are told of. n There was a man called Styrkar, the son of Eindridi the son of Hreidar. That Hreidar was the brother of Asbjom (the father of Jamskeggi of Y ijar); their sister was Olof (who married Klypp, a Norwegian chieftain who killed King Sigurd the Slobberer); their brother was Erling, a powerful chieftain of Hordaland in Norway. Erling had a son who was called Ivar, who was the most hand­ some of all the men who grew up in Hordaland, so he was called Ivar Gleam. He was more gifted with accomplishments than any other man, and so very arrogant that others could hardly do or say anything to equal him. He had long remained unmarried, and that was because he thought there was hardly any match good enough for him anywhere. He had stayed for a long while with his uncle Styrkar in the Thrandheim district. (This Styrkar was the father of Einar Shaky-Paunch. Some men also say that Eindridi

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the father of Styrkar and Asbjom the father of Eindridi BroadSole were brothers.) There had long been a warm affection between the kinsmen Styrkar and Ivar. • Ivar had gone on long trading journeys abroad, both to Den­ mark and to England. One summer he went on a trading journey to Iceland, and brought his ship to land at Gautavik in the East Fjords. Thorkel Geitisson rode down to the ship and invited the captain to come to his house with as many men as he wished to have with him. Ivar thanked the farmer and said he would accept this. So Ivar went to the house at Krossavik with four of his men to spend the winter there. Ivar was a very light-hearted man and free with his money. It happened one day that Thorkel went to speak to his sister Oddny and told her that the captain had come to the house. ‘I want you, sister’, said he, ‘to see to all his needs this winter, as most other people here have work to do.’ Oddny carved some runes on a wooden stick, for she could not speak, and Thorkel took it and read it; it said: ‘I don’t at all like to take on the work of looking after the captain, for I have a fore­ boding that if I do this and look after Ivar, great evil will come of it.’ Thorkel grew violently angry when Oddny refused; but when she saw this she got up and went in to see to Ivar’s needs, and continued to do so all winter. And as time passed people saw that Oddny no longer went about as a woman does who is alone. When Thorkel discovered this he asked Oddny what sort of condition she was in, whether she was with child, and who had begotten it on her. Oddny then carved runes again, and they said: ‘Ivar has repaid you nicely for giving him winter quarters, for the child I have within me is his.’ Then Oddny burst into bitter tears, but Thorkel went out. Winter came to an end, and when it was spring Ivar had his ship made ready in Gautavik. And when it was ready Ivar set out from Krossavik, and all his men with him. Thorkel was seeing Ivar off, and when they had ridden for some while he turned to the captain: ‘W hat plans have you made, Ivar, for the child you begot on my sister Oddny? Will you do the right thing and go to marry her? I would settle enough money on her for it to be an honour for you.’

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Ivar flew into a violent rage and answered: ‘It would be a miserable outcome of my journey to Iceland if I had to marry your sister, a dumb woman! I have had the chance of marrying women of better rank and nobler family at home in Hordaland, and even farther afield in Norway. You needn’t father your sister’s child on me, for it was your thrall who got it on her. What you have said is a great insult to me.’ Thorkel answered: ‘If you refuse to acknowledge Oddny’s child, and if you heap shame on both her and me, you will pay for that yourself. I have never been so shamefully treated by anyone before.’ Ivar then struck out at Thorkel; the blow caught him on the leg, and that was a great wound. Thorkel then drew his sword and struck at Ivar, but he pulled his horse back so that the stroke landed on the horse’s leg in such a way as to cut it off. Ivar then leapt clear of the horse and ran after his companions, but Thorkel rode home to Krossavik. The next day after this, Thorkel gathered men and rode to Gautavik with thirty men. But when he got there Ivar had drawn in the gang-plank, and the wind was blowing offshore, and so they sailed out to sea; and the wind never failed till he reached Norway and came home to Hordaland and settled down there in peace. Thorkel rode home to Krossavik and was not at all pleased at the way things had turned out for him, for he had never had more shameful treatment than all this put together. m At midsummer or a little later Oddny gave birth to a child. It was a boy-baby, and so big that people thought they had never seen a bigger new-born child. Thorkel was informed that his sister was now lighter of that child which Ivar Gleam had be­ gotten on her. And when Thorkel heard this he grew violently angry and said that the child was to be exposed. For there was a law then in those days that the children of the poor could be exposed if one so wished, but even so it was not considered the right thing to do. Thorkel sent for the thrall Freystein and told him to destroy the boy. But he refused to do so until Thorkel threatened him with his anger. At that time Thorkel’s father Geitir was visiting his son; he declared that the boy ought not to

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be exposed, and said he felt a foreboding that that boy would turn out to be no weakling if he had the chance to remain alive. Thorkel was so furious that he would not listen, but said that there was only one thing to be done: to have the lad exposed. Now Freystein went, though he went unwillingly, to Oddny, and picked up the boy and went out with him and away to a wood. He wrapped the lad in a cloth and placed a slice of bacon in his m outh; he made a shelter among the roots of a tree, and put the child in there and arranged it comfortably, and so went away. He then went home and told the farmer he had got rid of the child; the farmer said he was glad of it, and now all was quiet for a while. IV

Shortly afterwards—so the tale is to be told—Farmer Krumm went into his wood to gather fuel. He heard a child’s wail and went towards it, and found a boy-baby, big, and fine-looking too; beside him lay a slice of bacon, and Krumm felt sure that it must have fallen out of the child’s mouth and that must have been why he was wailing. Krumm had heard that there had been a child bom at Krossavik and how harshly Thorkel had spoken about it, so he felt certain that this must be the same one. Then, because he and Thorkel were close friends, and furthermore because he saw that it would be both a crime and a waste that this child should die there when it was so manly-looking and probably destined for great things, he picked it up and took it home with him and said no word about this. It was on the fourth day from the time it was exposed that the child was found. Krumm gave the lad a name and called him Thorstein, and he said he was his son. He and Thorgunna had agreed on this. Thor­ stein now grew up there, and Thorgunna fostered him lovingly and taught him much wise lore. Thorstein became both tall and strong and exercised his skill in every accomplishment. He was so strong that by the time he was seven years old he was a match for the strength of full-grown men, and fine ones at that. It happened one day, as it often did, that Thorstein went over to Krossavik. He went into the main hall, where Geitir, the farmer’s father, was sitting on the step, muttering into his cloak. But as the lad came into the hall he was rushing wildly along, as

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children do, and he fell to the floor of the hall. And when Geitir saw this he burst out laughing. But when Oddny saw the lad she burst into bitter tears. The lad went up to Geitir and said: ‘Did you think it very funny when I fell down just now?’ Geitir said: ‘Indeed I did, because I could see something that you couldn’t see.’ 4W hat was that?’ said Thorstein. ‘ I can tell you that. When you came into the hall, a polar-bear cub was following you, and then it ran ahead of you across the floor; but when it saw me it came to a halt, but you were rushing rather fast and you tripped over the cub. And it’s my opinion that you are no son of Krumm’s, nor of Thorgunna’s, but that you must come from a nobler family.’ 1 The lad sat down beside Geitir and they chatted. When evening came, Thorstein said he ought to be getting home. Geitir told him to come there often, ‘because it seems to me that you may have kinsmen here’. But when the lad had gone out Oddny went after him and gave him some clothes, newly made; then he went home. Now his visits to Krossavik became a habit. Thorkel did not take much notice of the lad, yet he was thought quite outstanding for his size and strength. Geitir said to his son Thorkel that it was his opinion that this Thorstein was the son of Oddny and Ivar Gleam, and would turn out to be a fine man. Thorkel said that he could not deny this, ‘so we ought to get at the truth of the matter.’ Next day Thorkel sent for Krumm and Thorgunna and Thor­ stein, and when they had come, Thorkel asked them bluntly how Thorstein had come to them. But the couple told the whole story of how it had happened; Freystein also told his story, and every­ thing fitted together. Thorkel now thought that everything had turned out well, and he thanked Freystein for doing it. So Thor­ stein now woke to the fact that these were his kinsmen, and he went to live at Krossavik, and Thorkel treated him extremely well. 1 T his invisible b ea r cub belongs to a class o f beings called fylgjur, ‘fol­ lo w ers’, w hich w ere a type o f external soul in anim al form . T h ey accom ­ panied a m an through life, could be seen in dream s o r b y th o se w ith second sight, an d to o k th e form o f a species o f anim al w hich w ould co rresp o n d to th e m a n ’s character a n d ran k . P o la r bears w ere very highly valued.

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V It is said that one autumn, when the men were about to go up into the hills,1 Thorkel told his nephew Thorstein go go with them. He agreed to do so; he was ten years old at the time. Freystein picked him as his companion for the journey. They went as the paths led them, and found many sheep. And when they had taken the path for home they came into a deep valley; there were just the two of them, Freystein and Thorstein. Evening was drawing in fast. They saw a great mound there. ‘Here I mean to spend the night’, said Thorstein, ‘and you must keep watch during the night, Freystein, and don’t wake me up, whatever I may do in my sleep, because I think that is important.’ Freystein agreed to this. Then Thorstein fell asleep; and as the night wore on he acted strangely in his sleep, for he twisted about and writhed from head to toe. This went on all the time till daybreak. Freystein was in doubt whether he ought to wake Thorstein or not, for his move­ ments looked very agonized. But when the light of day dawned Thorstein awoke, and he was then all in a sweat, and he said: ‘You have indeed kept watch faithfully, Freystein. You have now done two deeds which would deserve a reward; the first was when you took me away, and the other is now. Now I’ll give you your reward by getting you your freedom from my uncle Thorkel, and here are twelve marks of silver which I’ll give you. And now I will tell you my dream. It seemed to me that that mound opened and there came out from it a man clothed in red; he was a man of big build, and not absolutely hideous looking.’ This man had gone up to Thorstein and had hailed him. Thor­ stein greeted him well and asked him his name and where his home was. He said he was called Brynjar and that his home was in that mound ‘which you see standing here in the valley. But I know what your name is and also to what family you belong, and also that you will turn out to be a fine man. Will you come with me and see my homestead?’ 1 i.e. to gather the flocks and bring them down into the valleys to winter there. 218

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Thorstein agreed and stood up and took his axe, which Thorkel had given him; they went into the mound. When Thorstein came in it seemed to him that fine preparations had been made. He saw sitting there, on the right-hand side, eleven men on a bench; they were all clothed in red and looked rather aloof. On the other side of the mound he saw twelve men sitting; they were all clothed in black. There was one who was the biggest of them, and very evil­ looking. Brynjar bent down to Thorstein and said: ‘That is my brother, that big man, and yet we are not alike in character. His name is Odd, and to most men he shows ill-will; he proves himself a hard neighbour to me, but he is stronger than me in every way, just as he is bigger in size. I and my men have been forced to agree to give him every night one mark of gold or two marks of silver, or some treasure of this same value. This has been going on now for the last month, and we are now running short of ready money. Odd has in his care some gold which by its nature has this power in it: every man who has not the power of speech and who lays this under his tongue, his speech begins at once. And your mother might get her speech from this gold; but Odd guards it so closely that it never leaves him, night or day.’ Now Brynjar sat down beside his companions, and Thorstein took the outermost place on their bench. When they had been sitting there for some while, Brynjar got up and went across to his brother Odd and handed over to him a thick ring. Odd took it in silence, and Brynjar went back to his seat. In the same way they got up one after another, and all brought Odd some valuable gift, but he gave no thanks to any of them for it. When they had all done so, Brynjar said: ‘It would be a good idea, Thorstein, if you would do like the others and bring Odd some tribute; there’s no help for it, as you are sitting on our bench.’ Odd was frowning heavily and sat upright, looking very savage and not particularly welcoming. Thorstein then stood up and took hold of his axe. He went across to Odd and said: ‘I haven’t enough goods with me, Odd, to pay this tribute to you. You surely will not be very exacting to me, as I’m not rich.’ Odd answered, rather curtly: ‘I don’t like your coming here. Aren’t you going to hand over what you think fitting?’

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‘I have nothing to give but my axe, if you want to take that.’ Odd stretched out his hand for it, but Thorstein struck at him; the blow caught the arm above the elbow and cut it off. Then Odd jumped to his feet, and so did all who were in the mound. Their weapons were hanging above their places; they seized them, and now fighting broke out between them. Thorstein could see that there was not so great a difference between himself and Odd, now that Odd had only one hand. All those black-clothed men seemed to him the stronger fighters; he saw too that even if they cut off one another’s hands or feet or wounded one another with great wounds, they were whole again next minute. But the wounds which Thorstein gave followed the laws of nature. Thorstein and all his brothers did not slacken their efforts till Odd was dead, and all his companions too. Thorstein was very weary by then, but not wounded, because Brynjar and his men had shielded Thorstein against all blows. Brynjar now took the gold from the dead Odd and gave it to Thorstein and told him to take it to his mother. He gave him twelve marks of silver in a purse and said: ‘You have done me a very good turn, Thorstein, for now I will be master of the mound here and of the treasure; this is only the beginning of your deeds of valour, which you will accomplish abroad. You will also accept a change of faith, and this faith will be far better for those who can accept it, but it will bring more trouble for those who are not fated to receive it—such as me and those like me, for we brethren lived in the underworld. Now, I think it would be most important that you should arrange for my name to be baptized, if it should be your fortune to have a son.’ ‘Then he led me out of the mound, and before we parted he said: “ If my words have any power, all your deeds will turn to honour and good luck.” After that Brynjar turned back into the mound, but I awoke. And there is a token to prove all this, for here beside me now are the purse and the gold too.’ Then Thorstein and Freystein went away and drove home the sheep they had found, and men gathered their flocks in success­ fully. Thorstein told everyone of this happening and brought the gold to his mother, and she got the power of speech at once when it touched the roots of her tongue. This mound stands in Jokulsdal and is called Brynjar’s Mound, and traces of it can be seen to this day.

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VI

Freystein soon received his freedom a t Thorstein’s request, and TTiorkel gave it glady and willingly, for he was well disposed towards Freystein, because he knew that he came of a race of noble men. Grimkel, Freystein’s father, had lived at Vors in Norway and had been married to Alof, the daughter of Brunnolf the son of Thorgeir Vestarsson. But Sokki the Viking had burned Freystein’s father Grimkel to death in his house, but had captured the lad and sold him into slavery, and it was Geitir who brought him out to Iceland. Some men say that Thorstein gave his mother Oddny to Frey­ stein in marriage. Freystein the Fair lived in Sandvik on Bardsnes, and owned Vidfjord and Hellisfjord, and was reckoned one of the First Settlers. From him are descended the families of Sandvik and Vidfjord and Hellisfjord.

vn Asbjom Kastanrazi owned a ship which was laid ashore at Gautavik. Thorstein got himself a passage with him; he was then twelve years old. Thorkel gave him goods for his journey, so that he should have all that he needed; and before Thorstein rode to the ship, he and his mother had a talk together. She said: ‘Now, son, you must find your father, Ivar Gleam; and if he is slow to admit to being your father, here is a ring which you must bring him, and tell him that he in the first place gave that ring to me, and then he cannot deny it.’ Then the mother and son parted, and Thorstein rode to the ship and went abroad that summer. They approached Norway from the north that autumn. Thorstein went to stay with Styrkar at Gimsar and spent the winter there. He and Styrkar got on well together, for the latter saw that Thorstein was a man of great accomplishments, for he was already a match for the strongest men in every sport. In the course of the winter, a little before Yule, some men sent from Ivar Gleam arrived there with the message that Ivar was inviting Styrkar to a Yule feast. The one who led them was called Bjorn. Styrkar promised to make the journey and set out with

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thirty men; Thorstein was one of the company. They arrived for the feast; Styrkar was warmly welcomed, and he sat next to Ivar during the feasting. The feast passed happily, and on the last day of it, before the men were to set off, Thorstein came up to Ivar and said: ‘My ' business with you, Ivar, is to find out whether you are at all ready to admit to being my father.’ Ivar answered: ‘W hat is your name? Where do you come from ?’ *My name is Thorstein. My mother is called Oddny and is the daughter of Geitir out in Iceland; and here is a ring which she told me to bring you as a token, and she said you would recognize that you had given it to her.’ Ivar went very red and said: ‘ You must have a far worse father; there are enough thralls out in Iceland for your mother to be able to father you on to one of them. And, to tell the truth, I would have thought it would be hateful to noblemen and chieftains’ sons that every son of a whore could claim me as his father.’ Thorstein then grew extremely angry and said: ‘You have given a wicked and dishonourable answer. However, I will come a second time for you to acknowledge me, or else it will be your death.’ Then Thorstein turned his back on him. Ivar said to Styrkar: ‘Kinsman, I ’d like you to put this fool to death, for I think one can expect all kinds of trouble from him.’ ‘I will not do th a t’, said Styrkar, ‘because I think there is more truth in his words than in yours, for I do think that he comes from men of good family.’ Ivar and Styrkar parted there with coldness. Styrkar went home to Gimsar, and Thorstein with him. Styrkar had a sister who was called Herdis, the most beautiful of women; there was a great liking between her and Thorstein. There he stayed for two years. Then Thorstein went back to Iceland and home to Krossavik, and he had bettered himself very much by his journey abroad. When he had been three years in Iceland he went abroad again to Norway with Kolbein the Snapper. He went once again to Styrkar a t Gimsar, and he welcomed him with open arms.

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vm It is plainly told that during that summer there was a change of ruler in Norway; Hakon, the heathen worshipper, passed away, and in his place there came Olaf Tryggvason, who preached the true faith to all men.1 It came to King Olaf’s ears that there were ogresses lurking in Heidarskog, so that all roads there had become impassable. The king summoned a council and asked who was willing to go and rid Heidarskog of them. A man stood up, a big, impressivelooking man whose name was Brynjolf and who held lands in Thrandheim, and said: ‘I will go, sire, if you are willing.* The king said this pleased him very well. Then Brynjolf made ready, with sixty men. There was a man called Thorkel, to whose house Brynjolf and his men rode to find lodging. Thorkel took them in gladly; they spent the night there, and in the morning he went part of the way with them, and said it was a great pity that the king was not going to enjoy the services of such men any longer. Then they rode off on their way, and still went on till they saw a great hall standing there. Out from this they saw three trollwomen come running, two young ones and one very huge one. The latter was shaggy all over like a grey bear. They all had swords in their hands. They also saw a large man coming—if one could call him a man—and also two lads with him. He had a drawn sword in his hand, which was so bright that one would think there were sparks flying from it. All these trolls were hideous looking. Fighting broke out there straightway; the large man struck very heavy blows, and so did the shaggy giantess. The end of it was that Brynjolf fell there, and all his companions too, except for four men who got away into the wood and afterwards went to find the king and told him the tidings; and this story spread far and wide. IX

It must be told that Styrkar talked to Thorstein and asked him whether he would be willing to go with him to Heidarskog. Thor­ stein said he was ready for that journey. They made ready early 4 a.d. 995.

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next morning and went up into the mountains on snow-shoes, and never halted until they came, in the evening of the day, to a mountain hut, and decided to stay there that night. Then they divided their tasks; Thorstein was to go and look for water, and Styrkar was to light the fire. Then Thorstein went out, taking a spear which Styrkar had given him, and a water-bucket in the other hand. And when he had come quite close to some water, he saw a girl coming with a water-bucket; she was not monstrously tall, but was hideously stout. And when she saw Thorstein she threw her bucket down and turned hastily back and ran off. Thorstein too left his bucket behind and ran after her; but when the girl saw that she rushed rapidly away. They then each ran as hard as they could, and they drew no farther apart, nor yet any closer together. This went on until Thorstein saw a hall standing there, very large and strongly built; this girl ran into it and slammed the door behind her. As he saw that Thorstein hurled his spear after her, and it struck the hall door and flew through the door. Then Thorstein went up to the hall and into it, found his spear on the floor, but saw no sign of his girl. He was able to go further into the hall until he came to a shuttered bed-closet, where there burned a candle on a candlestick. Thorstein saw that there was a woman lying in the bed—if one could call her a woman—she was both tall and stout and in every way like a troll. The cut of her face was very large, and in complexion she was black or purplish; she was lying wrapped in a silk shirt, and this looked just as if it had been washed in human blood. For the moment the ogress was sleeping, and snoring horribly loud; a shield and sword were hanging up above her. Thorstein climbed up on to the edge of the bed and took the sword down and drew it. He stripped the clothes away from the ogress; he saw then that she was shaggy all over, except for one spot under the left arm which he could see had only short hairs on it. He felt certain that it was there or nowhere that iron could bite into her. He laid the sword against that very spot and threw himself hard against the hilt; the sword bit so well that the point went right through to the feather bed. The old hag then woke up—not, indeed, because of any pleasant dream—and groped about with her hands and jumped up. With one and the same movement Thorstein knocked the light out and jumped up over the ogress and into the bed. But she leapt out on to the floor,

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thinking that her slayer must have tried to reach the doorway; but by the time she got there she was being killed by the sword in her, and she died. Then Thorstein went up to her and pulled out the blade and took it with him. Then he went on until he came to an inner door; there was a crack in the doorpost, and the door was not quite shut. He saw a large man of very big build sitting on the step of the floor, and above him hung all his armour; at his side there sat a big giantess, hideous-looking but apparently not very old; two lads were playing on the floor, and hair was sprouting from the tops of their heads. The giantess began to speak: ‘Are you feeling sleepy, Jam skjold, my father?’ ‘No, Skjaldis, my daughter; the minds of mighty men are weighing heavily on me.’ Then he called the lads by name (one was Hak and the other Haki), and told them to go to their mother Skjaldvor and find out whether she was awake or asleep. Skjaldis answered: ‘It’s unwise, father, to send young boys out in the dark, for I ought to tell you that this evening I saw two men running down from the mountain. They are so swift-footed that I think there would be few of our men who could match them.’ ‘I don’t think that’s of any importance’, said Jamskjold, ‘because the only men the king sends out here are ones that I’m not afraid of. There’s only one man that I ’m frightened of, and that one is called Thorstein and is the son of Oddny out in Ice­ land. But it is as if there were a veil before my eyes hiding all my destiny, whatever the cause of that may be.’ ‘It is unlikely, father’, said she, ‘that that Thorstein would come at any time to Heidarskog.’ Now the lads went out, but Thorstein stepped aside out of their way; they ran across the hall and out. And when some time had passed, Skjaldis began to speak: ‘I want to go outside.’ Now she stumbled hurriedly and clumsily against the inner door. Thorstein then drew back ; and when she came to the outer doorway, she fell over her mother—dead. She came over all cold and queer at this. Then she ran out of the hall. At that moment Thorstein came up to her and cut her hand off with the sword Skjaldvor’s Gift. Then she tried hard to get back into the hall, but 225

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Thorstein held the doorway against her; she had a short sword in her hand, and they fought together for a while, but their en­ counter ended in Skjaldis falling dead. At that moment Jarnskjold came out; he had a drawn sword in his hand, bright, and so cutting that Thorstein thought he had never seen anything like it. He struck out at Thorstein at once, who dodged aside from the blow but was wounded all the same in the thigh. The sword was driven into the ground right up to the hilt; at this Jarnskjold bent forward, but Thorstein heaved up the sword Skjaldvor’s Gift powerfully and swiftly, and struck at Jam skjold; that blow caught him on the shoulder, cut off the arm and the foot, and at this Jarnskjold fell down. Thorstein left little pause between mighty strokes, and cut his head off him then and there. X

After this Thorstein went back into the hall, but as he was going in, before he could realize what was happening, he was snatched up and flung down. Thorstein thus discovered that the old hag Skjaldvor had come to life again, and she was far worse to deal with now than before. She then lay down on top of Thor­ stein, and meant to bite his windpipe in two. Then it came into Thorstein’s mind that He who had made heaven and earth must be great indeed; he had also heard many remarkable tales about King O laf and about the faith he was preaching. He vowed now with a sincere heart and with the whole of his mind that he would accept that faith and serve Olaf as long as he lived, if he could get away safe and sound and alive, away from all magical powers. And just as she was meaning to sink her teeth into Thorstein’s windpipe, and as he had been binding himself by this vow, there came into the hall a ray of light, terri­ fyingly bright, and shone straight into the hag’s eyes. A t the sight of it she turned so faint that all her strength and vigour were sucked out of her; she then began to retch in a disgusting way. Then all the spew in her came gushing out and down over Thor­ stein’s face, so that he nearly came to his death from the loath­ someness and stink of it. Indeed, men think it not unlikely that some part of it got into Thorstein’s breast, for this reason: men think that never after this did he live entirely in the one shape

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only,1 whether this was more due to Skjaldvor’s spew, or to the fact that he was exposed in infancy. They were both now lying between life and death, so that neither was capable of standing up.

XI

It must be told that during this time Styrkar was in the moun­ tain hut, and was thinking that Thorstein was taking rather a long time. He then lay down at full length on the boards; and when he had been lying there for some while, there came running in two lads, very evil-looking, each of whom had a knife in his hand. They attacked Styrkar at once, but he wrenched away a plank from the raised part of the floor and battered them with it until he killed them both. Then he went out of the hut; he suspected then what must be delaying Thorstein. Then he went on his way till he came to the hall; he saw some traces of what had happened, for there lay two ogres slain, but nowhere could he see Thorstein. He thought that there was now good reason to fear that he was in some trouble, so now he vowed to the Maker of heaven and earth to accept the faith which King Olaf was preaching, if he could find his comrade Thorstein alive and well that night. Then he went on into the hall and came to where Skjaldvor and Thorstein were lying; then he asked Thor­ stein whether he could speak at all, and he said he was not past doing so, and told him to give some help. Styrkar then took hold of Skjaldvor and dragged her off him. Thorstein stood up quickly, though he was very stiff because of it all put together, the struggle he had had against the ogre and the embrace of Skjaldvor. Then they broke the neck of the old hag Skjaldvor, and they had the greatest difficulty in doing so, for she had an extraordinarily thick neck. Thorstein now told Styrkar all about his expedition. Styrkar answered: ‘You are a man of mighty exploits! It is most likely that this exploit of yours will be talked about as long as the Northlands are inhabited.’ Now they took hold of all the ogres and dragged them together in one place and lit a pyre and burned them all to cold ashes. 1 T hat is, th at he acquired superhum an powers, including that o f turning into an anim al a t will.

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Then they searched the hall, but found nothing of value theire. After this they went away and home to Gimsar. These tidings now spread far and wide and were thought to be important. xn King Olaf was sitting feasting in Hordaland. Styrkar and Thorstein came there and came before the king and greeted him. Ivar Gleam was there then, and he was held in such high honour by the king that there were only two men sitting between him and the king. Then Thorstein turned towards Ivar, with his sword Skjaldvor’s Gift ready drawn, and placed the point against Ivar’s breast and said: ‘Now make your choice—either I thrust this point a good way in, or you admit to being my father.’ Ivar answered: ‘I think it an honour to have you as my son; you have so fine a mother too that I know she would not have said that unless it was true. I am certainly willing to acknowledge you.’ Then the king spoke to them of the faith, as he did to all others who came to see him. They said that it was easy to accept that from him, and then they told the king plainly all the circum­ stances of their coming there, and the tidings of what had hap­ pened in Heidarskog. Then the king repeatedly gave thanks to God for the miracles which He vouchsafed to sinful men in this world. They were then both baptized. Styrkar went home to Gimsar and enjoyed all the revenues granted by the king, as he had done before; but Thorstein became a retainer of King Olaf and followed him to his dying day, and so did his father Ivar, and they were thought the most valiant of men. xm There was a man called Harek, who lived at Reina in Thrandheim and held land from the king; he was not very popular. He had accepted Christianity, but nevertheless it was said to the king that there still remained something of the old ways in his be­ haviour; therefore the king decided to go to a feast there, wishing to find out what truth there was in it, and a fine feast was held there. 228

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Harek was envious and spiteful; he felt envy at the honour Thorstein received. One day Harek was talking to Thors tein and asked him about his exploits, and Thorstein told him whatever he asked about. ‘Do you think there is any men in Norway stronger than you?’ said Harek. ‘I don’t really know’, said Thorstein. ‘As between yourself and the king, which do you think is the stronger?’ said Harek. ‘I am less inferior to the king in strength than in everything else’, said Thorstein, ‘and even so, I wouldn’t claim to be his equal in that.’ Then they broke off their talk. And next day Harek told the king that Thorstein had claimed to be his equal in all accomplish­ ments, but the king took little notice of that. Some time afterwards the king said that it would be a good plan for those who had claimed to be his equals to give proof of their accomplishments—‘And is it true, Thorstein, that you have said you are equal to me in accomplishments, or superior?’ ‘I haven’t said that, sire’, said Thorstein. ‘Who told you that?* ‘H arek’, said the king. ‘Why was he less ready to tell you about the ox to which he makes blood-sacrifices in secret, for that would be a truer story? But what I said was this, sire: that I am less inferior to you in strength than in everything else, but that even so I would not claim to be your equal in that.’ ‘Is this at all true, Harek? ’ said the king. ‘There is not much basis for it, sire’, said Harek. ‘Let us see that ox which you have such a liking fo r’, said the king. ‘At your orders, sire’, said Harek. ‘We must go out then, into the wood.’ They did so; when they got there they saw a great herd of cattle, among which was an ox so terrifyingly huge and evil-looking that the king thought he had never seen anything like it; it was bellow­ ing in a terrifying way and appeared very evil-looking. Harek said: ‘Now here is the ox, sire, and I have such a liking for that ox because he is very fond of me.’ *I can certainly see him ’, said the king, ‘ and he looks evil to me. Well now, Thorstein, are you willing to prove your strength and

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catch that ox? For I don’t think there is much to be gained by its living any longer.’ Then Thorstein ran forward into the herd of cattle and up to where the ox was. The ox turned away, but Thorstein clutched at its hind leg, and with such strength that the skin and flesh were both ripped apart, so that the leg came off, together with the whole thigh; he kept hold of this and went up to the king with it, but the sacred ox dropped down dead. And the ox had struggled so violently against him that its forelegs were sunk into the ground up to the knees. The king then said: ‘You are a strong man, Thorstein, and you will never find that your strength fails you if you have to do with human foes. Now I will add something to your name and call you Thorstein Oxleg, and here is a ring which I will give you in honour of your new name.’ Thorstein took the ring and thanked the king, for it was a fine treasure. The king now went back to the farmstead and took possession of it all for himself, and drove Harek out of the country because of his disobedience and heathen sacrifices. XIV

Within a short time news came again from Heidarskog that there were ogres there, so that people could not pass through. Styrkar sent word to Thorstein that they ought to go to Heidar­ skog again. Thorstein quickly made ready and set off with the king’s permission and met Styrkar. Now the two of them set off together and came to that mountain hut where they had been before and spent the night there. The next morning, as they were standing outside, they saw thirteen men in the wood, and one woman among them. They went towards them. Thorstein recognized his girl there—and she had grown a bit, for she was now the hugest ogress. She addressed Thorstein and said: ‘So you’ve come here, Thorstein Oxleg! And last time you came in such a way that I have had reason to remember i t : you killed my father, my mother, and my sister, and Styrkar killed my two brothers, and you chased me. I was very frightened, which was only natural in a little girl only nine years old—but I’m twelve years old now! I went into an underground room when we had parted, you and I.

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And while you and my father were fighting I gathered together all the fine treasures there were in our hall and put them in the under­ ground room under my mother’s bed. Shortly afterwards I married this man, Skelking, and I made it a condition that he should kill both you and Styrkar. Now here he is, and his eleven brothers too, and now you will need to show that you can defend yourselves manfully, if it’s to be any use.’ Thereupon fighting broke out between them. Skjaldgerd made her attack at the spot where Thorstein stood, so violently that Thorstein thought he had hardly ever been in greater peril. But all the same, the end of their encounter was that Thorstein drove a blow home above Skjaldgerd’s hip, with the sword Skjaldvor’s Gift, and cut her in two at the waist. By that time Styrkar had killed Skelking. Now they made short work of the eleven, and killed them all. Then they went into the hall, broke into the under­ ground room, and carried away many fine treasures. After this they went home to Gimsar and divided the money between them. Thorstein then asked for the hand of Herdis, Styrkar’s sister, and married her. Men say, too, that they had a son whose name was Brynjar. Thorstein went back to King Olaf and stayed with him from then on, and fell on the Long Snake.1

The Blood-Brothers9 Pact CEgils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabanay chs. 6-7) was a king called Ottar who ruled over Halogoland; his queen was called Sigrid, the daughter of Earl Ottar of Jutland in Denmark, and they had one son, who was called Asmund. He was of tall build; he grew practised in various feats, and when he was twelve years old he was thought to outshine all who lived there. He led a group of many young companions. T here

1 A m an named Thorstein Oxleg did in fact fight on King O laf’s ship at the battle o f Svold, but it is not clear whether he died there.

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One day when they had ridden out into the forest, Asmund saw a hare and set his hounds after it; the hare ran off, and the hounds could not bring it down. Asmund would not give up till his horse fell exhausted, and even then he ran on and hunted the animal with his hounds. The end of it was that the hare threw itself down over the cliffs. Asmund then turned back to where his horse was, and did not find it. By then evening had come. Asmund slept the whole night long, but in the morning there came so thick a fog that he did not know where he had got to. For three days he wandered lost in the forest. Then he saw a man coming to meet him, a tall handsome man in a scarlet kirtle, with hair as yellow as silk. Asmund thought he had never seen a finer-looking man. Now they each greeted the other; Asmund asked him his name, and he said he was called Aran, son of King Rodian of Tartaria—‘I have been away on a plundering raid.’ ‘How old are you?’ asked Asmund. ‘Twelve’, said Aran. ‘There can’t have been many to match you there’, said Asmund. ‘There was no one there to match m e’, said Aran, ‘so I made a vow that I would not go home till I had met someone who would be my match in age and in feats of strength. Now I have heard of a man called Asmund, the son of the King of Halogoland—can you tell me anything about him? For I have been told that in his case the difference between us would only be slight.’ ‘I know that man well’, said Asmund, ‘and he’s talking to you now.’ ‘Then my wishes are coming true’, said Aran, ‘and now we can put our skills to the test.’ Asmund said he was ready to do so. Then they showed off all the feats which were usual among young men in those times, and they were so evenly matched that one could see no difference at all between them. Last of all they took hold of one another and there was a hard wrestling-bout between them, and there was no difference to show which was the stronger, and by the time they fell apart they were both weary. Then Aran said to Asmund: ‘We must not test our skill in a passage of arms, for that would mean death for us both. I wish that we should swear blood-brotherhood together, so that each

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would avenge the other, and that we would own all wealth in common, whether won in war or not.’ This was followed also by an oath between them that whichever lived the longer would have a burial mound raised for the other and would place in it as much wealth as they would think fitting; after that the one who lived the longer was to sit beside the dead man for three nights in the burial mound, and then leave, if he so wished. Then they made their blood flow and let it mingle; people thought that an oath in those days.

Asmund and Aran then join forces on a warlike expedition and kill some villainous Vikings, after which they go to Aran's home. But before they had been at home for a full month, Aran died suddenly one day while walking through his hall. Then his body was laid out according to their customs. Asmund ordered a burial mound to be raised over him and placed his horse beside him, with saddle and bridle, his banner and all his armour, his hawk and his hound. Aran was seated on a chair in all his armour. Asmund had his own chair brought into the mound and sat down on it; the mound was then shut. The first night, Aran arose from his chair and killed the hawk and the hound and ate them both. The second night, Aran stood up and killed the horse and tore it to pieces and fell to chewing vigorously, with the blood running down over his jaws. He invited Asmund to share the meal with him, but Asmund re­ mained silent. The third night, Asmund grew drowsy, and before he knew what was happening, Aran had clutched at his ears and tom them both off. Then Asmund drew his sword and cut off Aran’s head; after this he lit a fire and burned Aran to ashes. Then he went to the rope and was hauled out, and the mound was then shut; and Asmund took for himself all the wealth which had been laid in the mound.

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A Giant Outwitted (Egils saga einhenda ok Åsmundar berserkjabana, chs. 9-10) T h e r e was a king called Hring who ruled over Smaland; his wife was called Ingibjorg, and she was the daughter of Earl Bjarkmar of Gautland. They had two children; their son was called Egil, and their daughter Aesa. Egil grew up at his father’s court till he was twelve years old. He was very strong and unmanageable, headstrong, and quarrelsome. He chose bold young fellows as his comrades, and would go off into the forests to shoot wild beasts and birds. There was a large lake among the forests, and there were many islands in it; Egil and his friends would always go swimming there, for they were very practised in such feats. One day Egil began arguing with them over who would be able to swim farthest out into the lake, for it was so long a distance to the island which lay farthest from shore that one could not see it at all unless one climbed a tall tree to do so. Now they swam out into the lake, and there were thirty of them together; each one was to stay behind on some island if he did not trust himself to swim any further. So they swam on across the lake, and some of the stretches of water were very broad. Egil was the fastest swimmer, and no one could follow him. And when they had gone far from land, there came so thick a fog that no one could see another, and then the wind grew cold. They now swam about, lost in the water, and Egil did not know what had become of his men. He swam round and round in the lake for two days, and then he reached land; he was so exhausted that he had to crawl up on shore, and he tore up some moss to cover himself and lay there that night, and by morning he had warmed up a little. Then out of the forest there came a large giant. He picked Egil up under his arm and said: ‘ It’s a good thing, Egil, that we should have met here! There are two choices which I offer you; one is that I should kill you, and the other is this—that you should look after my goats for as long as I live, and swear an oath to do so.’

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Egil did not linger over the choice, for his position was a difficult one. They now went on for many days’ journey till they came to the cave of which this giant was master. The giant had a hundred hegoats and many she-goats as well; he insisted that his slaughtering should be done in such a way that they never became fewer than this. Egil undertook to watch the animals, and the she-goats were unruly. This went on for a long time, but on one occasion, when Egil had been there a twelvemonth, he ran away. But when the giant found this out, he went after him, for he was so clever that he could follow tracks across the sea just as well as across snow. The giant found him in a cave; he had by then been away for four days. The giant said that Egil had behaved worse than was laid down in their agreement: ‘Now’, said the giant, ‘you’ll have something which will be the worse for you.’ Then he took two stones, and they each weighed forty pounds; they could be fastened on with iron hasps. He locked them on to Egil’s feet, and said that he was to drag these. Egil bore that burden for seven years, but the giant was so wary that he could never see a chance to kill him. It happened one day that Egil had gone out to look for his shegoats, and he found a cat in the wood; he managed to catch the cat and brought it home with him. Now he came home late that evening, and by then the fire was thick with ash. The giant asked why he had been so slow coming home, but Egil said he was not equipped for easy walking, and told him that the goats had wan­ dered far. ‘It puzzles m e’, said the giant, ‘how you can find what you’re looking for in the dark.’ ‘That’s due to my golden eyes’, said Egil. ‘Have you got other eyes besides the ones I’ve seen?’ asked the giant. ‘I certainly have’, said Egil. ‘Show me these treasures!’ said the giant. ‘Then don’t steal them from me’, said Egil. ‘They’d be no use to me’, said the giant. ‘They’re no use to anyone’, said Egil, ‘unless I fit them in properly.’

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Then Egil lifted his cape. The giant stared at the cat's eyes across the fire and above it, and it looked as if stars were shining. ‘These are lovely and precious things’, said the giant. ‘Will you give me these eyes?’ ‘Then I’d be left the poorer’, said Egil; ‘ but if you will give me some freedom by taking the fetters off me, then I ’ll give you the eyes.’ ‘And will you fit them in place’, said the giant, ‘so that they can be of use to me? ’ ‘I’ll try to ’, said Egil. ‘But you will find that it h u rts’, said Egil, ‘to undergo what must be done, because the eyelids must be wrenched up very high, and then refitted in the way they are to go. And I will tie you to the pillar here.’ ‘Then you will kill m e’, said the giant, ‘and that is a villainous deed.’ ‘I’ll not do th a t’, said Egil. They struck a bargain on this. The giant now took the fetters off him. ‘Now you have acted well’, said Egil, ‘and indeed I will now promise you that I’ll serve you as long as you live.’ After this Egil tied the giant up and took a double-forked dart and thrust it into both the giant’s eyes, so that they hung out on the cheekbones. At this the giant felt such pain that he started up very violently and so broke all the bonds which held him, and tried to catch hold of Egil and ripped off all his outer garments. ‘W hat bad luck you have!’ said Egil. ‘The golden eyes have just fallen into the fire, and now neither of us can make use of them.’ ‘You have cruelly fooled m e’, said the giant. ‘Now you’ll starve to death in here and never get out again.’ Then the giant ran to the doors and shut them firmly; Egil now thought he was in a bad position. Now he spent four nights in the cave without getting any food, because the giant was guarding the cave. He now hit on this plan: he killed the largest he-goat and flayed his skin off him and got into it himself and sewed it on as tightly as he could. On the fourth morning he drove the goats towards the door. The giant had stretched his thumb up against the rock, and still his little finger touched the threshold, and the goats had to pass

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out through his grip. There was loud thudding of hoofs on the floor of the cave. The giant said: ‘That means wind now, when there’s a creaking in the hoofs of my billy-goats.’ Now the he-goats ran out between his hands. Egil went the slowest, and no trampling of hoofs could be heard from him. ‘ How gently you’re creeping along now, Horn-Beard! ’ said the giant. ‘And you’re rather broad across the shoulders.’ Then he took hold of the shaggy coat with both hands, but Egil jerked away so violently that the goatskin tore, and he got free. ‘You took advantage of my being blind’, said the giant. ‘It is wrong that we should part without your having any keepsake, seeing that you have served me so long. Here now, take this gold ring!’ It was a fine treasure. The ring looked beautiful to Egil, and he stretched out his hand for it; but when the giant felt him take hold of the ring he snatched it back and struck at Egil and cut off his right ear. Then Egil took advantage of the giant’s being blind —Egil cut off the giant’s right hand and got the ring for himself. ‘Now I’ll keep my word, and not kill you’, said Egil. ‘You shall live on in torment, and of all your days may the last one be the worst for you!’ Then they parted, and Egil went away.

Odd Among the Giants (Qrvar-Odds saga, ch. 18) I t is said that one day Odd was walking through certain moun­ tains and a great ravine, where a large river ran in torrents and very tumultuously. He looked whether there was any way of crossing over, but he could not see any anywhere. He now sat down, and before he had been there very long he was all of a

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sudden snatched up into the air. A vulture1had come flying there, and it clutched Odd so hard in its claws that he could not defend himself against it at all. This creature flew with Odd across many lands and seas, and at last the vulture flew up on to a sheer preci­ pice and settled on a grassy ledge among the crags, where there were the chicks of this creature. It now let go of Odd, and he was whole and uninjured, because his shirt had protected him both against this vulture’s claws and against everything which has been spoken of already. Now Odd was among the vulture’s chicks in their nest; there was a high cliff above, and the deep sea down below, so that Odd had no means of getting away except by letting himself drop down into the sea at the risk of his life; also, there was nowhere near by where he could come to land, for he could see no end to the line of cliffs. The chicks were nowhere near full grown. The vulture was seldom at home in the nest but always went out hunting for food. Odd now tied up the chicks’ beaks and hid himself in a crevice in the rock beside the nest. The vulture would bring there many fish and birds and human flesh and all kinds of beasts and cattle; it happened in the end that it brought some cooked meat there. But as soon as the vulture had gone away, Odd would take the meat and make use of it for himself. One day Odd saw a large giant come rowing towards the nest in a boat of stone; he spoke aloud and said: ‘It’s a wicked bird that has its nest here, for it has got into the habit, day after day, of stealing my freshly cooked meat away; now I’m going to try to take some vengeance on it. When I took oxen from the king I had other plans than that this bird should have them ! ’ Odd then stood up and killed the chicks and shouted to the giant: ‘Here is everything you’re looking for; I’ve been keeping it safe!’ The giant climbed up to the nest and took his meat and carried it to the boat. The giant then said: ‘Where’s that little baby I saw here? He’s to come out without fear and come with me.’ Odd now showed himself, and the giant picked him up and made his way out to the boat. Then he said: ‘How are we to kill this harmful creature?’ Odd answered: ‘Kindle a flame and set fire to the nest, and 1 Icelandic gam m r, a fabulous huge bird described as being black, with iron claws.

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when the vulture comes back I think it may well be that it will fly so near that the fire will catch in its feathers, and then we two can get the victory over it.’ It all went as Odd had guessed, and they defeated the vulture. Odd hacked off its beak and claws and took them with him, and went on board the boat, and the giant rowed away. Odd asked him his name, and he said he was called Hildir and was a giant from Ogre Land, and had a wife called Hildirid, and by her a daughter called Hildigunn; ‘also I’ve got a son who is called Gudmund and was bom yesterday. I am one of three brothers; the eldest is called Ulf and the second Ylfing. We have arranged to hold an assembly this summer, and one of us is to be king of Ogre Land—the one who has done the greatest deeds of valour and who owns the most savage dog, and there’ll be a dog­ fight there at the assembly.’ Odd said: ‘W hat do you think—which of you will win the chance to become king?’ Hildir answered: ‘I certainly think that they will win it, because all our lives long I have been the least among us, and it will be the same again.’ Odd said: ‘W hat would you choose, if your station in life could be changed through this affair?’ Hildir answered: ‘I would choose to be the king; but that is most unlikely, for Ulf owns a wolf which is fiercer than any other, and no dog can bear to fight it; and Ulf has killed a beast which is called Tiger, and has the beast’s head as a proof of this. But my brother Ylfing is even more difficult to outdo, for he owns a polar bear which will spare nothing; Ylfing has also killed a beast which is called Unicom. But I have no such deed to show to match these, nor any dog that could stand up against those.’ ‘I think you are speaking truly’, said Odd, ‘but it may be possible to find some plans for this—plans which would be of some use, if a man were to show goodwill.’ Hildir said: ‘I ’ve never met so small a child with more cheek than you, or more shrewdness, for it seems to me that one might say that there’s nothing of you but sheer brains! I think you are the greatest of treasures, however sharp-spoken you may be, and I will take you to my daughter Hildigunn, and she can have you as a toy and foster you and rear you at the same time as my son Gudmund.’

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Thereupon Hildir sat down at the oars and rowed home to Ogre Land, and Odd thought it a great marvel how that boat moved. But when he reached home he showed the child he had found and told his daughter to take as much care of it as of his own child, and no worse. When Hildigunn took hold of Odd, and when he stood beside her, he barely came up to the middle of her leg; but Hildir was even bigger than she in every way, as a man should be. And when Hildigunn picked Odd up and set him on her knee, she turned him round in front of her and said: ‘Little Tom Thumb, with the tuft on your brow, Yesterday’s baby is bigger than you.’ She then laid him in the cradle beside the baby giant and sang nursery rhymes over them and treated him kindly, but when she thought he seemed restless in the cradle, she laid him in her bed beside her and put her arms round him, and so it came about that Odd played whatever game he chose; then, as things were going extremely well between them, Odd told her that he was no baby, even though he was smaller than men are there when new-born. These people are so made that they are far larger and stronger than any other race; they are more handsome too than most other men, and no cleverer. There Odd stayed that winter, but in spring he asked Hildir how generous he would be to a man who would show him how to find a dog that would overcome his brothers’ dogs. Hildir answered: ‘I would be very generous to that man. Do you know anything about showing me this?’ Odd said: ‘I can show you the way, but you’ll have to catch him yourself.’ Hildir said: ‘I shall get him, but you bring me where I can set eyes on him.’ Odd said: ‘In the Vargey Islands there lies a beast which is called the brown bear; its nature is such that it lies all winter in a trance, but when summer comes it gets up, and then it is so famished and fierce that it spares neither cattle nor men nor any­ thing in its path. Now it seems to me reasonable to expect that this beast would defeat your brothers’ dogs.’ Hildir said: ‘Lead me to this dog, and if it proves to be such as you say, I’ll reward you well for it when I have come into my kingdom.’

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After this they prepared for the journey. Then Hildigunn said to Odd: ‘You do intend to come back again after this journey, don’t you?’ He said that he was not at all sure about that. ‘Yet that would mean a great deal to m e’, said she, ‘because I love you very much, even though you are small. Also, there’s no use my hiding it, I am with child; and though it might seem most unlikely that you are capable of such a thing—such a little worth­ less fellow as you are to look at!—yet there is no one except you who could possibly be held to be the father of the child I shall bear. I would have thought I could never bear to let you out of my sight for tender love, yet all the same I’ll not hinder you from going wherever you want to, when I see that it would not come naturally to you to stay here with us in future. But you need have no doubt about this—you would never get away from here if I did not wish it. Now I chose to bear sorrow and care and to weep and wail for you, as fate wills it, rather than that you should never again be in the places that please you. But how do you wish me to dispose of our child?’ ‘If it’s a boy’, said Odd, ‘you must send him to me as soon as he is ten years old, for I would think it likely that there’ll be some manliness in him. But if it’s a girl, then bring her up here and do whatever is best for her, for I won’t take any notice of her.’ ‘You shall have your way in this’, said she, ‘as in everything else that concerns you and me; and now, farewell and live happy 1’ She now turned away and wept bitterly, and Odd went on his way to the shore. Hildir sat down at the oars; Odd thought it would be slow to tackle the journey with oars, for there was a long way to go. So he had recourse to a certain talent which was given to all men from Hrafnista: he hoisted a sail. A favourable wind sprang up at once, and then they sailed off along the coast; and it was not long before Hildir jumped up, fumbling at the ship’s side, went over to Odd, caught hold of him, thrust him to the ground, and said: ‘I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop this witchcraft you’re going in for, because all the lands and hills are leaping about as if they were mad, and the ship will sink beneath us.’ Odd said: ‘You mustn’t take any notice of that; you’re giddy, as you’re not used to sailing. Now let me stand up, and you’ll find that I’m telling the truth.’

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He did as Odd asked. Odd now lowered the sail, and the lands and hills were then quiet at once. Odd told him not to be amazed even if things once more looked like that to him if they sailed on, and said they could stop at once whenever he wanted to. Hildir now let himself be persuaded by what Odd was saying, and he already understood that this way of travelling was faster than rowing; Odd then hoisted the sail and sailed on, and Hildir now kept quiet. There is now nothing more to be told about their journey until they came to the Vargey Islands, and there they went ashore. There was a large scree there; Odd told Hildir to plunge his arm into the scree and see if he could catch anything. He did so, plunging his arm into the scree right up to the shoulder, and said: ‘Ow! There’s something queer in here, and I’m going to put on the gloves I use for rowing.’ And so he did, and thereupon dragged out a bear by the ear. Odd said: ‘Now you must do as I say with this dog—take him home with you and never let him loose until the assembly when you set the dogs to fighting. You must give him nothing at all until the summer, and let him live alone in a hut, and tell no one that you have caught him; but on the first day of summer set him to fight your brothers’ dogs. But if he does not succeed, come back to this same spot the next summer; I’ll then give you a second piece of advice, if this does not succeed.’ Hildir had received wounds in many places on his arm ; he said: ‘I make it a condition, Odd, that you should come to this spot at the same time next spring.’ Odd agreed to this. Hildir now went home with the beast and arranged everything just as Odd had said he must, but Odd went off in another direction. And there is nothing told of his journeys or his doings or his deeds of valour until the next spring, when he came back to the spot where they had talked together; and Odd arrived there first and went into a forest a little way from there, not wanting to let Hildir see him, because he did not now wish to risk his life by meeting him—he felt sure that Hildir would seek revenge if things had not gone just as he had told him they would. And not long afterwards he heard the splash of oars and saw that it was Hildir coming, and he went up on shore, and in one hand he held a cauldron full of silver and in the other two chests, very heavy.

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And when he came to the spot on which they had agreed, he waited there for a while, and Odd did not come. Then the ogre said: ‘It’s a bad thing, Odd, my foster-son, that you’re not coming now! But since I haven’t the time to loiter here any longer, as my kingdom is unprotected while I am away, I will leave these chests here (they are full of gold), and a cauldron full of silver. You shall have this wealth, even though you are late in coming. I’ll lay a stone slab over them, that the wind should not blow them about; and in case you don’t see it, I’ll lay these treasures on top—a sword, a helmet, and a shield. But if you are somewhere near, so that you can hear my words, I want to tell you that I became king over my brothers and that I owned the dog which was by far the most savage, for he bit both my brothers’ dogs to death, and also many of their men who tried to help the dogs. I produced the beak and claws of the vulture, and that was thought a far more valiant deed than those my brothers had done; now I alone am king over the land which we brothers owned. Now I will go away and home to my kingdom; if you come to visit me I’ll not treat you meanly, as is only right. Also I want to tell you that my daughter Hildigunn has given birth to a boy whose name is Vignir, whom she says you begot on her; I’ll bring him up with all loving care, I’ll teach him various feats and treat him in every way as if he was my own son, and I’ll bring him up till he is ten years old and then send him to you, according to the plan you have made with her herself.’ Thereupon he rowed away in his boat, and as soon as he had gone Odd stood up and went to where the wealth lay under the stone slab; and it was so large a rock that even many men could never move it, and so Odd got only the wealth that lay on top of the slab, which, however, was great wealth.

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The Breaking o f a Burial Mound (Extract from Gests þáttr Bárðarsonar) The first part o f the tale tells how its hero Gest won fam e in fighting various giants and trolls, and in particular how he helped a certain Thord and his brother Thorvald to rescue a maiden named Solrun from a giant. The story then shifts to Norway. I T h e r e was a sea-captain called Kolbein whose ship was laid ashore at Bordeyrir in Hrutafjord; the brothers [Thord and Thorvald] arranged to sail with him, and got a passage for Gest that summer. They put out to sea as soon as the wind was favour­ able. Those who went abroad there were Gest and his dog Snati, Thord and Solrun, and Thorvald. They had good and favourablé winds, and came to Thrandheim. At that time King Olaf Tryggvason was the ruler of Norway. The brothers went to find him, and Solrun with them; they greeted the king and asked him for lodging for that winter, but the king asked whether they were willing to let themselves be baptized. They seemed reluctant to do so; yet it did turn out that they were baptized, and Solrun too. They stayed with the king that winter, in high favour. Gest stayed behind by the ship and lived in a tent; his dog was with him, but no human being. It happened one day that the king was in cheerful mood and said to Thord: ‘Where did you find this beautiful wife of yours?’ ‘Out in Iceland’, said Thord. ‘How old a man are you?’ Thord said: ‘I’m nineteen.” The king said: ‘You’re a man of courage; where do you think was the greatest danger you have been in?’

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‘Out in Iceland’, said Thord, ‘when I won this wife.’ ‘Who saved you?’ ‘His name is G est’, said Thord. ‘Did he come to this country?’ said the king. Thord said that that was indeed true—‘But I want to tell you what I would wish to receive from you. I want to be made a courtier of yours.’ ‘Then bring Gest to meet me, if you want to become my man.’ Then Thord went to find Gest. The latter was unwilling to do this, and said: ‘I am not eager to meet the king, for I’ve been told that he is so fond of ruling that he wants to rule every matter, even what men are to believe in.’ In the end, however, Gest went with Thord and came to meet the king. Gest gave greeting to the king, who welcomed him well. Gest asked: ‘What is your business with me, sire?’ The king said: ‘The same as with other men, that you should believe in the true God.’ Gest said: ‘I haven’t the least liking for abandoning the beliefs which my kinsmen before me have held. There is a foreboding in my mind that if I abandon that faith I shall not live long.’ The king said: ‘A man’s life is in God’s hands, but in future no man in my kingdom shall have the right to worship according to the heathen religion.’ Gest said: ‘I think it likely, sire, that your religion may be the better one, but I’ll not abandon my faith because of threats or bullying.’ ‘Let it be so’, said the king, ‘for it seems to me that in your case you would rather put aside the old faith of your own accord than on account of another man’s severity. You must be a man not entirely lacking in good luck; and you are welcome to stay with us this winter.’ Gest thanked the king for his words, and said he would accept this. Gest stayed with the king for a while, and it was not long before he was marked with the Sign of the Cross.1 Now time wore on towards Christmas. 1S ee above, p. 209.

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n On Christmas Eve the king was sitting in his high-seat, and the whole court was present, each man in his own seat. The men were glad and merry, for the king was full of gladness. And when men had been drinking for some time, a man walked into the hall. He was tall and evil-looking, with dark skin and flashing eyes, a black beard and a broad nose. This man had a helm on his head and was wearing a shirt of ring-mail and had a sword at his belt; he had a gold necklace round his neck and a thick gold ring on his arm. He walked farther through the hall and up to the king’s high-seat. Nobody greeted him. People were in great amazement at this sight. No man addressed any remark to him. And when he had stood for a while in front of the king, he said: ‘I came here thinking that I would at least be offered some hospi­ tality by such very great and noble men. I ’m going to be more open-handed than that, for I shall offer possession of these fine things I’m wearing now to the man who dares come and fetch them from me—but there won’t be such a man in here.’ Thereupon he went away, and an unpleasant smell spread through the hall. At this everyone felt great dread. The king told the men to sit still until that smell grew less, and the men did as the king said. But it was found on investigation that many men were lying unconscious and as if half dead, until the king himself came to them and read [prayers] over them. All the watchdogs were dead except only V igi1 and Gest’s dog Snati. The king said: ‘Who do you think he can be, Gest, this man who came in here?’ Gest said: ‘I’ve not seen him before, but I ’ve been told by my kinsmen that there once was a king called Raknar, and I think that I recognize him from their accounts. He used to rule Helluland 2 and many other lands. And when he had long ruled his lands, he had himself buried alive with five hundred men at Raknasloda. He had murdered his father and mother and many other people. I expect that his burial mound must be far off in the north in the uninhabited parts of Helluland, from the stories told by certain men.’ 1 King O laf’s own dog. 2 The name given by the Icelanders to the coast o f Newfoundland.

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The king said: ‘I think it likely that what you say is true. And now it is my request, Gest’, said the king, ‘that you should fetch those fine treasures.’ ‘That, sire’, said Gest, ‘might well be called a risky errand; but I won’t refuse it, if you, in preparing my journey, are following what you know is my fate.’ The king said: ‘I shall set my whole mind on ensuring that your journey turns out well.’ After this, Gest made ready for his journey. The king gave him forty iron shoes, and they were lined with down. At Gest’s request he gave him two magicians; the man was called Krok and the woman Krekja. He also found him a priest to go with him, one called Jostein; he was an outstanding man and highly esteemed by the king, but Gest said he had no great liking for him. The king said: ‘Yet he will give you the finest proof of courage at the time which matters most to you.’ ‘Then he might as well come’, said Gest. ‘Your guesses are often good, but I don’t seem able to see any signs in the man that he would do well in any great test of his courage.’ The king gave Gest a one-edged sword and said it would bite if there was need to use it. He gave him a cloth and told him to wrap it round him before he went into the mound. And the king gave Gest a candle and said it would light up of its own accord if it was held up in the air, ‘for it will be black in Raknar’s mound; but don’t stay there any longer once the candle is burnt out—you must take heed of this’. The king gave Gest stores for a year and a half. Then he sailed off north along the coast and all the way past Halogoland and Finnmork as far as Hafnsbota. And when they had come as far north as Dumbshaf, a man came down from the land and joined their company for the journey. He gave his name as Raudgrani; he was one-eyed; he wore a skirted cloak flecked with blue and buttoned at the bottom between his legs. The priest Jostein had no great liking for him. Raudgrani would talk of heathenish and superstitious things among Gest’s men, and said that it was best to make bloodsacrifices to win good luck. And one day when Raudgrani was talking of such false beliefs among them, the priest grew angry and grasped a crucifix and touched Raudgrani on the head with it. He plunged overboard and never came up again. They then

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felt certain that this must have been Odin. Gest took little notice of the priest. N ot long after this they reached the uninhabited parts of Greenland; by then winter was coming on, and they spent that winter there. Beside certain rocks they saw two poles made of gold, and hanging from them a cauldron full of gold. Gest sent Krok and Krekja to fetch the poles and the cauldron. But when they had come up to them and meant to take them, the ground split open beneath their feet and swallowed them, the ground closing up again over their heads; but everything had disappeared together, the cauldron and the poles too, when the others came to look. Every night during that winter Gest kept watch at the door of their sleeping-hall. It happened one night that a hideous bull came to the hall and bellowed loudly and acted evilly. Gest went out to face the bull and struck at him with an axe. A t this the bull shook himself, and the axe did not bite on him, but broke. Then Gest clutched the bull’s horns in both hands, and they wrestled pretty violently. Gest found that he had not the strength to over­ come this monster, which was trying to drive him against the wall of the hall and there gore him. At this moment Jostein the priest came up to them and struck the bull’s backbone with a crucifix. At that blow the bull plunged down into the ground, so that there never again was any trouble from him. Nothing more worth telling about happened there. m In spring they left there, each man carrying his own provisions. At first they went along the coast, going west-south-west; then they turned and went across country. At first there were glaciers, and then began great fields of lava. Then they put on the iron shoes which the king had provided them with; there were forty shoes, but there were twenty men, not counting Gest. When they had all put on shoes, except Jostein the priest, they went up on to the lava, and when they had been walking some while, the priest could go no further; by then he was treading the lava with bleeding feet. Then Gest said: ‘Which of you lads will help this chatterbox so that he can reach the foot of the mountain?’

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Nobody would take this on, for each man thought he was carrying enough already. ‘It would be advisable to help him ’, said Gest, ‘for the king spoke strongly about it, and it will be best for us never to set his advice aside. So now come here, priest, and sit yourself on my pack, and keep your food with you.’ The priest did so. Then Gest walked ahead, and walked most sturdily. And so they went on and up for three days. And when the lava-field came to an end, they came to the sea. There was a large island lying there off shore. A long thin reef ran out to the island; this was dry at ebb-tide, and so it was when they came to it. Then they went out to the island, and there they saw a huge burial mound. Some men say that that mound stood far away in the north of Helluland; but wherever it may have been there were no habita­ tions in the neighbourhood. IV

Gest set them to work at breaking a way into the mound by day. By evening, with the help of the priest, they had broken an opening into the mound, but by next morning it had grown together again as before. They broke it open again that day, but by morning it was as before. Then the priest wished to keep watch in the breach made in the mound. He sat there all night, and he had holy water and a crucifix with him. And when time wore on towards midnight, he saw Raknar, and he was finely dressed. He bade the priest come with him, saying that his coming would lead to good—‘and here’s a ring which I ’ll give you, and a necklace.’ The priest answered nothing, and sat quietly as before. Many extraordinary creatures appeared to him, trolls and evil beings, fiends and people skilled in wizardry. Some coaxed him and some threatened him so that he would be more willing to leave than before. He thought he saw there his kinsmen and friends, and likewise King Olaf and his court, who bade him go with him. He also saw Gest and his companions making ready and preparing to leave, and calling out that Jostein the priest was to follow them and make haste to go. The priest took no notice of this, and what­ ever wonders he saw or however savagely these fiends behaved,

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they could never come any closer to the priest on account of the holy water he had sprinkled round. Towards day all these won­ ders vanished away. Then Gest and his men came to the mound. They never saw the priest at all disturbed. Then they let Gest down into the mound, but the priest and the other men held the rope. It was a fifty-fathom drop to the floor of the mound. Gest had wrapped the cloth, the king’s gift, round him, and wore the one-edged sword at his belt. He had the candle in his hand, and it lit itself as soon as he reached the bottom. Gest could now see all round the mound. He saw the ship Slodi, and five hundred men in her; that ship had been so large that it took no fewer than this to move her. This ship and Gnod, which Asmund used to steer, were said to be the same size. Gest then climbed up on to the ship. He saw that all the men had been on the point of rising to their feet when the candle-light fell on them, and that then they could none of them move, but their eyes were blinking and their nostrils blowing. Then Gest cut off all their heads with his sword, and it bit as well as if it were cutting through water. He stripped the dragon-ship of all its tackle, and had his men haul it up. Then he went in search of Raknar. He found an opening going deeper into the ground, and there he saw Raknar sitting on a chair; he was horribly evil to look at. There was a foul stench there, and it was cold too. A chest full of money stood under his feet; he had a necklace round his neck, a very splendid one, and a thick gold ring on his arm. He was wearing a coat of mail and had a helm on his head and a sword in his hand. Gest went up to Raknar and greeted him respectfully as a king should be greeted, and R aknar bowed his head in answer. Gest said: ‘It is true that you are famous, and also I do indeed find you most noble in appearance. I have come a long way to visit you in your home. You will surely let me have a good reward for my errand, and give me those very fine treasures which you have. I shall spread the tale of your munificence far and wide.’ Raknar then bent his head towards him, with the helm on it. Gest took it, and after this Gest stripped him of his coat of mail, and R aknar made it all very easy for him. He took all R aknar’s treasures away from him, except the sword, for when Gest took hold of this, Raknar sprang to his feet and threw himself at Gest

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—and there was no sign at all of his being either old or stiff. By then also the candle, the king’s gift, had burnt right out. Then Raknar turned into such a troll that Gest was quite over­ powered by him. Gest then thought he could see that his death was certain. And all those who were in the ship also rose to their feet. It seemed to Gest that there was quite enough already. Then he called upon Bard,1 his father; and shortly afterwards Bard came, but he accomplished nothing. The dead men handled him so roughly that he could never manage to come any closer. Then Gest made a vow to Him who had created heaven and earth, that he would accept the faith that King Olaf was preaching if he escaped alive out of the burial mound. Gest then earnestly invoked King Olaf, that he should aid him, if he had any more power than himself. Thereupon Gest saw King Olaf come into the mound with a great light. At this sight Raknar was so troubled that all his strength ebbed out of him; then Gest pressed so hard on him, under the guidance of King Olaf, that Raknar fell over backwards. Then Gest cut off Raknar’s head and laid it between his thighs. All the dead men had sat down again at the coming of King Olaf, each in his own place. The whole task being now ended, King Olaf vanished from Gest’s sight. v Now to turn again to these who were on top of the mound—at the time when these wonders which have now been told were happening, they were so troubled that they all ran mad except the priest. He never left the rope. And when Gest tied himself to the rope, the priest hauled him up with all the rich things, and greeted Gest, feeling that he had won him back out of hell. Then they went to where their men were, and these were struggling with one another, and the priest sprinkled holy water over them. They recovered their wits at once. Then they made ready to leave. It seemed to them almost as if the earth was shaking under their feet; the sea too rose all along the reef in such crashing breakers that the sea was nearly flooding the whole island. Now the dog Snati had never left the mound while Gest was inside. The men now found they did not know 1 Bard Snæfellsass had great power against every type o f troll, and would appear when his friends called on him for help.

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where to look for the reef, so Gest sent Snati out to the breakers; but the dog ran straight out among the breakers where there was hope of finding the reef, and he could not stand up against Raknar’s sorcery, and the dog was drowned there in the waves. Gest thought this the greatest loss. Then Jostein the priest went forward ahead of them, holding the crucifix in one hand and in the other some holy water, which he sprinkled about. Then the sea divided itself, so that they crossed dry-shod to the mainland. They all left, by the same course. Gest brought all the fine treasures to the king, and told him all that had happened. The king then asked him to let himself be baptized, and Gest said he had vowed to do so in Raknar’s mound. This then was done. The following night after Gest had been baptized he dreamt that his father Bard came to him and said: ‘You have done wrong when you abandoned your faith, which all your forefathers had held, and in your cowardice let yourself be bullied into a change of religion. Because of this, you shall lose both your eyes.’ Then Bard touched both his eyes rather roughly, and then vanished. After this, when Gest awoke, he had so severe a pain in his eyes that they both burst out that very day. Then Gest died, still wearing his baptismal garments. The king thought this the greatest loss.

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Hildibrand ( Hildibrandskvæði)

H il d ib r a n d had a sister at home, In the lands so wide, Was wedded away into heathendom, Well may the fine hosts in Denmark ride ! She was given and she was wed With a mighty count to lie abed. One day only she ruled his lands, The next day she was set in bonds. Thjodbjorg asked her lord the count: ‘Why is it you have had me bound?’ ‘This is why you have your bonds— You came not a maiden to my lands.’ ‘God he knows, and the holy sun, I came a maid to the bridal throne. ‘God He knows, the Saint’s shrine too, I came a maiden to bed with you.’ 253

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Count Thorkel calls his serving-men, Bids them tighten her bonds again. She looked up and she looked round, Not one helping friend she found. She looked up to the sky, She saw a raven fly. On the window the raven sat, Hoped to comfort the woman’s heart. ‘I shall give you clothes of red, Corbie, help me in my need.’ ‘I care not for your clothes of red, And I’ll not help you in your need.’ ‘I shall give you clothes of green, Tell Hildibrand my sorrows keen.’ ‘I care not for your clothes of green, And I’ll not tell him your sorrows keen.’ ‘I shall give you clothes of blue, Corbie, do as I beg you do.’ ‘I care not for your clothes of blue, And I’ll not do as you beg me do.’ ‘I shall give you clothes of brown, Carry my message to the town.’ ‘I care not for your clothes of brown, I’ll carry no message to the town.’ ‘What terms would you ask If you did fulfil my task?’ 254

HILDIBRAND

‘Give me liver, give me lung, Food on which to rear my young.’ ‘I’ll give you all that I can give, Tell Hildibrand in what grief I live.’ The raven he flew far and wide, Over seas where great ships glide. On the altar-stone the raven sat, His beak he clattered, his wings he clapped. ‘Here you sit, Hildibrand, your harp you play, But I have seen your sister in bonds yesterday, ‘So bruised, so blood-covered As if she had no brother.’ Hildibrand hurled the table aside, Brown mead over the floor ran wide. Hildibrand went to the horses’ stall, Led out his brown steed, best of all. He saddled the steed himself alone, Beside him stood no serving-man. Up he mounted, away he rode, By forest dark, by long, long road. He wore out one horse, wore out three, Onwards still and on went he. So he came at close of day To lands where the count held sway. ‘Welcome, Hildibrand, kinsman of mine Come in our hall and drink our wine.’ 255

BALLADS

‘1 have no wish to drink your wine— Where is Thjodbjorg, sister of mine?’ ‘To her bower she has gone To bear a fine young son.’ ‘She may bear one, she may bear three, With my own eyes I still must see.’ ‘It is not right for any man To go in there, where women can.’ Hildibrand ran through all the halls, Saw before him dungeon walls. Beat with his fist upon the door: ‘Sister, sister, draw back the bar!’ ‘I cannot draw the bar around, With iron bonds my hands are bound.’ Hildibrand ran against the door; The timbers split in pieces four. He struck the bonds from off her hands, The sound was heard through all the lands. Then they fought to the third day; Dead on the ground Count Thorkel lay. When morning light was in the sky, The count, like a dog, was hanged on high. The raven got the liver and lung From this Count Thorkel, and the tongue. Brother and sister homeward rode, In the lands so wide, With silver and the purest gold. Well may the fine hosts in Denmark ride! 256

Tristran ( T ristra n sk v æ d i)

T r is t r a n met in battle A heathen hound, In that fight took many A bloody wound. Fate would grant them nothing save a parting. Homeward on his shield was carried The young lord, Learned men all gathered To heal his sore. ‘I’ll take no man’s healing’, Swore the knight, ‘ Unless Isold should heal me, The lady bright.’ Tristran sent his men to her, And vessels three; ‘Tell her, the bright Isolde, The wounds on me. ‘Let her journey be prepared As I tell you, Let the ship that she sails in Have sails of blue.’ In they came, the messengers, Thus did speak: ‘With you does our lord Tristran A meeting seek.’

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Isolde went into the hall Before her king: ‘Will you let your kinsman Tristran Find healing?’ But thus the king gave answer In his wrath: ‘W hat need is there to heal a man Fated for death?’ She begged him, the bright Isold, Gentle and meek; She laid both her white arms About his neck. And thus the king gave answer The second time: ‘I would let my kinsman Tristran Healing find, ‘I would let you heal Sir Tristran’s Wound and pain, If I knew that from that meeting You would come again.’ ‘God will govern my returning’, Answered she, ‘And in that hour I’ll not forget My loyalty.’ /

Around her wrapped her sable cloak With grief and woe, And so down to the quayside The queen did go. ‘Change, O change the sails now At the masthead; It must not be that when I come Tristran is dead. 258

T R IS T R A N

‘Let my journey be prepared As I tell you, Let the ship that I sail in Have sails of blue.’ So sailed she, the bright Isold, W ith sails of blue; For three days the fairest wind For her ship blew. Sir Tristran asked black Isold, Isold the black: ‘The vessels that I sent out, Come they not back?’ O ut she went, black Isold, Thus said she: ‘Black the sails upon the ships That I can see.’ In she came, black Isold, Spoke once more: ‘Black the sails upon the ships Sailing to shore.’ Tristran turned him to the wall, H ard he thrust; Three miles around men heard it, How his heart burst. From the ships they landed then On the black sand; There stepped bright lady Isold First to land. Long was the pathway, The roadway broad; N aught she heard but tolling bells Along her road. 259

BALLADS

Long was the pathway, The roadway thronged; Naught she heard but tolling bells And fairest song. Isolde to the church did go Among the crowd; The priests they bore his corpse along, Singing aloud. About the church the priests they stand, The candle glows; Across the corpse Isolde bows, Red as a rose. Many in this world live on With lesser load; Across the corpse Isolde bowed, And lay there dead. Grief it was to black Isolde, Grief and woe, When from the church they carried them, Corpses two. She said and swore, black Isold, Upon her faith: ‘You shall not have the joy to lie Together in death.* The earth was heaped upon them Soon and swift, One to rightward of the church, And one to left. From each grave there sprang up A sapling straight, And high above the church-roof The branches met. Fate would grant them nothing save a parting.

260

Olaf and the Elf-Maid ( K v æ ö i a f O lá fi L ilju ró s)

the rocky crags Olaf rode, A-wandering he did go; There he came to an elf’s abode, Where red fires glow. Down from the rocky crags the fair winds blow. O ver

An elvish maid came there, Gold twined about her hair. The second who came there A silver cup did bear. The third who came out there A golden belt did wear. The fourth who came out there Spoke in words so fair: ‘Welcome, Olaf Lily-and-Rose, Come in the crag and dwell with us.’ ‘I’ll not dwell with any elf, I’ll place my faith in Christ Himself.’ ‘A little while now wait for me, While I go to the greenwood tree.’ She took from out her chest Her sharpest knife and best. ‘You cannot mean to ride off thus, And never spare one kiss for us.’

261

BALLADS

Olaf stooped from the saddle-bow, Kissed the maiden, loath and slow. She stabbed him under the shoulder-blade, To the roots of his heart a way it made. Olaf watched his own heart’s blood, Down to the horse’s hoof it flowed. Olaf rode with whip and spur Homeward to his mother’s door. Beat with his fist upon the door: ‘Mother, dear mother, draw back the b ar!’ ‘Where have you been now, O my son? Why are your cheeks so grey and wan? ‘You are as pale, as deathly blue As if elves had played their play with you.* ‘It would not help me if I lied; By an elvish maid I was beguiled. ‘Mother, make my bed soft and wide; Sister, bind up my wounded side.’ She led her son up to his bed; When she kissed him, he was dead. I’ll turn my verses to the Cross, A-wandering he did go; Holy Mary, be thou with us, Where red fires glow. Down from the rocky crags the fair winds blow.

262

Iceling (tsungskævði) a tale worth telling— Out in Fenedy A merchant left his wife at home, Sailed away to sea. As scholarly men explain. H

e r e ’s

Three years he was a-joumeying, Sailed to heathendom; After his long years away Safely he came home. There he saw a little boy, His hair so fair and sweet, Running up and down the hall On nimble little feet. The merchant asked his dear wife: ‘Who fathered this fine son?’ The woman answered: ‘Nobody, Just myself alone. ‘There’s a tale to tell of that— Early did I rise, It was on a winter’s morning, The walls all hung with ice. 'I fixed my mind on thoughts of you With love and longing wild, I laid the ice in my own mouth, And so was got with child. 263

BALLADS

‘So I have called him Iceling, And that is his right name; For nimbleness and loveliness There’s none to equal him. ‘The beauty of his hair and skin It glows with radiance mild, For nothing but the dangling ice Has gotten me with child.’ And then the merchant answered: ‘A marvel strange to see!’ He said he could not fathom How such a thing could be. But then the merchant answered, And looked not much amazed: ‘ Much that passed in olden times Would seem new nowadays.’ He would not bring dishonour Upon his married life, For much of his own money Was settled on his wife. So Iceling he grew older, And a fine young man he’d grown, Till the merchant was unwilling To keep him still at home. And so one day the merchant Said to his dear wife: ‘I want to take young Iceling And set him up in life. ‘He must come a-sailing now Across the Baltic Sea, And so become a merchant Just as rich as me.’ 264

ICELING

The merchant drew the anchor up As he wished to do; Iceling and his mother dear Had to say adieu. The merchant sold the lad away Into slavery; He thought that this was only just, And took the good money. He came back from his voyaging, Greeted his dear spouse. ‘Oh, but where is Iceling now, That darling son of ours?’ ‘To tell the truth, our Iceling He acted very strange. How various are the fates of men! How often they do change! ‘It was a calm and lovely day, The clear sky was so fair; He was sitting up on deck With his head all bare. ‘I had indeed forbidden him Bareheaded there to stay, Yet he would do nothing else But follow his own way. ‘No man has heard of things like this, Although he may be wise— Iceling turned to water, And melted just like ice. ‘He was begot by icicles And by the cold snow; The sun turned him to water, And he flowed to the sea below.’ 265

BALLADS

Tall stories match tall stories, Bluff can meet with bluff, Marvels match strange miracles— It happens often enough. As scholarly men explain.

EbbVs Daughters (Ebbadœtrakvæði) E bbi sailed away to war To join his king in haste, Left his daughters both behind, Bade them still be chaste. The noble warriors went riding by.

Young men were Ivar’s sons, They planned their game: ‘We both will ride to Ebbi’s home And put these maids to shame. ‘In the upper chamber there We will take our joy; There’s no one to avenge the wrong Save for one young boy. ‘There’s no one to avenge the wrong, Save for one young son; He may grow up a valiant man, But can’t kill two alone.’ Young Sir Peter rattled Upon the bolted gate: ‘What are you doing, proud young maids? A-sleeping or awake?’

266

E BB l’S DAUGHTERS

‘No, we are not sleeping now, We are awake again; Who is there at the chamber door? I know no such men.* ‘Get you up now, Ingigerd, Draw back the bolt and bar, You’ll see at your chamber door The two sons of Ivar.’ Up she got then, Ingigerd, All in her white smock; She shut the bolts upon the door, The strong iron lock. She shut the locks upon the door, The strong iron bar: ‘I have no wish at all to see The two sons of Ivar.’ Young Sir Peter thrust his foot Against the door, All the bolts they flew apart As if there were none there. Ebbi’s daughters bitterly They wept and sighed When Ivar’s sons had laid them down, Down at their side. With laughter and with merriment Away went Ivar’s sons; In the room the two girls spoke Of what should now be done. Ebbi’s daughters bitterly Their sorrows told, In treasure-chests they laid aside Their headbands of gold. 267

BALLADS

The sisters in the courtyard stood And they together spoke: ‘Away they ride now, Ivar’s sons, At us they jeer and joke.’ Then up and spoke the younger one, She felt the greater pain: ‘Deep in the sea we’ll sink ourselves Before Ebbi comes again. ‘Sink ourselves in the ocean, Bury ourselves in sand, Before ever this sorry tale Is known through all the land.’ ‘I’ll not bury myself in the ocean, Far less upon the sand, I’ll not care though this sorry tale Be heard through all the land.’ When they had been speaking But a little while more, There came their dear father, Riding from the shore. And to his daughter Signy Ebbi then did say: ‘Who took from you your gold headbands? Your veils, why laid away?’ ‘It was the sons of Ivar, They took our veils away.’ ‘You have a younger brother, And he shall make them pay.’ ‘We will not send our brother On a task as hard as this; Ebbi’s daughters shall themselves Handle their own case.’

268

EBBl’S DAUGHTERS

It happened on a holy day (God bring us all to bliss), The people to the church all went To hearken to the Mass. The sisters passed the churchyard gate, All wrapped about in furs; So courtly did they walk along, Their hoods bedecked with flowers. Then up and spoke Holmfrida, And slyly she did smile: ‘The fittest wives for my two sons Are walking up the aisle. ‘We should set up thrones for them, Most fair to see; We all should kindle torches For the daughters of Ebbi. ‘We should bedeck the thrones for them Most fair to see; We all should come with torches For the daughters of Ebbi.’ ‘It’s sooner you’ll be shrouding Your son’s body Than kindling all your torches For the daughters of Ebbi. ‘It’s sooner you’ll be burying Your son’s body Than coming with your torches For the daughters of Ebbi.’ Signy has cut her cloak of blue A little above the knee: ‘Now it is my dearest wish Ivar’s two sons to see.’ 269

BALLADS

When the Mass was ended The people came outside; By the door the sisters stood, One on each side. Signy gripped his girdle, Ingigerd his hair: ‘ Here’s vengeance for your coward’s crime Earlier this year.’ ‘O Ebbi’s daughters, dear to me, Grant me truce and peace; I’ve asked from no man’s daughters Such a boon as this.’ ‘There’s but one way for Ivar’s sons Peace and truce to gain: You must give to Ebbi’s daughters Their honour back again.’ They cared but little For great men’s law; They hacked the head from off him On the hall floor. Then in there came a little boy, Ran into the hall: ‘Now I alone know something more Than any of you all. ‘ Here you sit, Sir Peter, Drinking wine and mead; Ebbi’s daughters in the yard Strike your brother dead.’ He drank one toast, Sir Peter, To Mary Our Lady: ‘And when I shall drink here again, In God’s hands let that be!’ 270

EBB l’s D AUGHTERS

Up he sprang, Sir Peter, In his anger wild; By the door the sisters stood, One on each side. Signy gripped his girdle, Ingigerd his hair: ‘Here’s vengeance for your coward’s crime Earlier this year.’ ‘O Ebbi’s daughters, dear to me, Grant me truce and peace; I’ve asked from no man’s daughters Such a boon as this.’ They cared but little For great men’s law; They hacked the head from off him On the hall floor. Home came Ebbi’s daughters With bloody sword; Their father came and asked them What they had wrought. Ivar to the churchyard Carried his sons; Ebbi gave his daughters To be nuns. And thus spoke Ebbi And away did ride: ‘Happy in this world is he Who has no child.’ The noble warriors went riding by.

271

The Harp Song (HQrpukvæði) T o t h e maiden’s bower a lover has come, And harry the lovely land; And he has courted the younger one, O the bleeding gashes, the burning wound! The younger she was pure as gold, The elder she was black as mould. Sister said to her sister good: ‘We’ll walk together beside the flood.’ The younger walked out across a stone, To the tide the elder hurled her down. She stretched up her white, white hand: ‘Sister, help me back to land.’ ‘I’ll not help you by land or sea, Unless you give your gold shoes to me.’ ‘Golden shoes I’ll give you fain, If you let me reach the land again.’ She stretched up her white, white hand: ‘Sister, help me back to land.’ ‘I’ll not help you by land or sea, Unless you give your beauty to me.’ ‘My beauty I cannot give to you; If God so wills it, He may so do.’ 272

T H E H A R P S ON G

She stretched up her white, white hand: ‘Sister, help me back to land.’ ‘I’ll not help you by land or sea, Unless you give your lover to me.’ ‘All I can give I’ll give to you; I cannot rule what my love may do.’ South winds began to blow, Swept the body down below. The winds blew, and the billows black Swept the body landwards back. The lover walked upon the sand, Where the body drove to land. He took up her white body, He buried it in holy clay. He took the strands of her golden hair, Spun three harpstrings long and fair. And thus the first string cried; ‘My sister was this bride!’ Answered the bride on the benches there: ‘This harp brings us bitter care.’ The next string told the other: ‘She robbed me of my lover.’ Answered the bride on the bench again: ‘This harp brings us bitter pain.’ The third string answered both: ‘This bride she was my death.’ 273

BALLADS

He struck the harp with might and main, The bride’s heart broke with grief and pain. Signy was buried in hard, hard ground, Twelve fine noblemen standing round. Hilda was buried in hard, hard rocks; All men say her spirit walks. To the younger they paid their court, And harry the lovely land; The elder one they set at nought, O the bleeding gashes, the burning wound!

Lord Ribbald CR ib b a ld sfcvæ ð i )

The leaf it flutters on the linden tree ; To bind is easy, not so easy to set free, ‘ Listen, Gullbrun fair and gay, Leaf on the linden tree, Will you ride a little way?’ To bind is easy, not so easy to set free. He set her on a horse all white, No woman rode as she could ride. They were not far upon the road When they saw where a beggarman rode. ‘Welcome, Lord Ribbald, welcome to you, And to your stolen lady too.’ 274

LORD RIBBALD

‘It is no sweetheart riding here, But rather Margaret, my sister dear.’ ‘No need for you to hide the truth— I know you, Gullbrun, well enough.’ ‘I shall give you a cloak of green, Ne’er tell my father what you have seen.’ ‘I do not want your cloak of green, I’ll tell your father what I have seen— ‘You sit here, king, and you drink your wine; Away she’s gone, your daughter fine.’ The king he calls his serving-men: ‘You must saddle my steeds again.’ Gullbrun high on the turret stood, Into the courtyard her father rode. ‘Even if you see me fall, Never name my name at all. ‘Even if you see me bleed, Name me not, or I am dead.’ He sets gold spurs to his horse’s sides, And straight towards the host he rides. In the first rank he slew there Eleven brothers with golden hair. He sent her father down to hell, This deed was evil, it was not well. He laid her kinsmen low, This brought her bitter woe. 275

BALLADS

‘I beg you, Ribbald, listen to me, Let my youngest brother go free.’ In that very same second, He has taken a deadly wound. Ribbald wipes his red sword dry: ‘Gullbrun, you would deserve to die. ‘ My love to you is a mailed coat, My sword shall never touch your throat.’ He set her on a horse all white, No woman rode as she could ride. Ribbald rode with whip and spur, Away he rode to his brother’s door. ‘Hail to you, Ribbald, brother mine, Here you shall find both mead and wine.’ ‘I care not for your mead and wine, I give you this woman I leave behind.’ ‘I will take her with goodwill, If I know she’s a maiden still.’ ‘I shall prove it with my oath, She was a maid when I led her forth. ‘I gave her but a single kiss, That was my heart’s one bliss.’ ‘It shall not be while I’m alive That two brothers have me to wife.’ Ribbald breathed his latest breath, Leaf on the linden tree, Grief gripped Gullbrun to her death. To bind is easy, not so easy to set free. 276

Logi of Vallarahlid (Kvæði af Loga i Vallarahlid) A l a d y sits in her domain, And many skills she knows; Reads in books the written runes And sews her silken clothes. The lady sits in her domain, No rise or lily fairer; Two knights come to seek her hand For the great love they bear her. William he won her, But Logi also wooed; He sighed for her as bitterly As birds do in the wood. William was betrothed to her, But Logi lost his love; He sighed for her as bitterly As birds do in the grove. Then to William she was married, Logi took it ill; On one thing now he set his heart— That fair knight’s life to spill. Home rode Logi to Vallarahlid In his power and might; He would take nor meat nor ale, Throughout all that night. 277

BALLADS

Then up and spoke his mother dear: ‘Why are you so sad, As if in sickness you had lain, Or had noble kinsmen dead?’ ‘I’d sooner I had lost them, My great kinsmen every one, Before that maid was given To William for his own.’ ‘ Hear me now, O son of mine, Nor sigh away your life; I shall go to another land And find you a fairer wife.’ ‘Though you may go through Denmark And all lands far and wide, You’ll nowhere find beneath the sun So courteous a bride.’ ‘Hear me now, O son of mine, And cease to yearn and groan; It is not right to love the thing Which is another’s own.’ There they held the wedding feast With mirth and merriment; One month of their appointed time As man and wife they spent. I’ll tell the tale now speedily; It was one winter night: ‘Hear me now, my young William, And read my dream aright!’ ‘Hear me now, my Adallist, Sleep and take your ease; No mighty man would ever read The dream a woman sees.’ 278

L O G I OF V A L L A R A H L I D

‘This was the first dream I dreamt: Churchwards you were bound, A white bear ran towards you, To deal a bitter wound. ‘You greeted him with gentle words, In his fury he replied; He thrust that heavy paw of his Hard against your side. ‘Take then some valiant man with you (It filled my heart with dread), One who can wear a bright mailcoat And well can wield a blade.’ Out there stood Logi of Vallarahlid, Thought it long to stay, While Count William dressed himself To hear the Mass that day. Out there stood Logi of Vallarahlid, Thought the time was long, While Count William dressed himself To hear the Morning-Song. Out he went, Count William, In a silken shirt; There came Logi of Vallarahlid And dealt him a deadly hurt. ‘It falls out well now, William, That we should meet like this, For I have cause to pay you back For many a secret kiss.’ He struck at him with sharpened sword, Evil was that strife; For this must Lady Adallist Bear sorrow all her life. 279

BA L LA DS

And so to church goes Adallist With her rings so red; And as she stepped into the church She found her William dead. She bent down low across the corpse The holy kiss to give; Long while she lay there in a swoon, So cruelly she did grieve. There came Logi of Vallarahlid To plead with many a word: ‘Choose me now, O fine lady, To be your count and lord.’ ‘Be silent, O you valiant lord, Such things you must not say. There’s one who will avenge him well, And he’s not far away.’ He struck him down with sharpened sword, Evil was that deed; Glad rode he, Lord Logi, Home to Vallarahlid. Then up and spoke his mother dear: ‘Why this bloody sword, As if you’d ridden to the fight Among a warlike horde?’ Logi answered her again As truly as he could: ‘I have slain that lord and count Who won the lady proud.’ Then up and spoke his sister dear, And bitterly she wept: ‘There’s one who will avenge him soon, Though he lies hidden yet.’

280

LOGI OF V A L L A R A H L I D

‘Hear me now, O sister mine, Nor grieve your life away; She has no son nor daughter now To take revenge and slay.’ They sang their dirge above the corpse, Five hundred men and more; ‘And now ’, says she, ‘I’ve proved it true, The dream a woman saw.’ The lady sits in her domain, Nine months are past and gone, Until there came the hour for her And she brought forth her son. The child was carried to the church With pomp and bravery, And there he got his father’s name In his father’s memory. He grew up with his mother dear In her own domains; Maidens served and cherished him Like a shrine of holy saints. The boy runs out to the field of sports Among all his pages; Heavy are the blows that fly If in wrath he rages. Then up and spoke the oldest lads Among them all a-playing: ‘You’d do far better to beat us less, And avenge your father’s slaying.’ Away he went, young William (His cheeks were white that day), He went up to the women’s bower, No longer wished to play.

281

BA L LA DS

‘Hear me now, O mother mine, And I will question you: What brought my father to his death? Now you must tell me true.* ‘ O you must learn to sit your horse, To swim, and spears to cast, And then I’ll tell you what you ask When three more years are past.’ Young William gave his answer, The best that he could know: ‘In the jaws of young boar-pigs The sharp teeth early grow.’ She went towards her treasure-chest (No lack of wealth had she), And out she took the blood-stained shirt And laid it on his knee. ‘This now is what I have to tell, And it is truth I say: It was Logi of Vallarahlid Who did your father slay.’ Then up and spoke young William, To his mother’s brother said: ‘What counsel should I follow now, For there’s wrath in my heart and head?’ ‘This now is my first counsel, I know what you should do: You must call a gathering through the land And bid men come to you.’ He bade his men ride far and wide As swiftly as they might, To call Logi there to a gathering, Whether by day or night.

282

LOGI OF V A L L A R A H L I D

Up spoke Logi in Vallarahlid, His gold staff in his hand: ‘Whence comes this letter that summons me To a gathering in our land?’ Then up and spoke his sister dear, Fair as the rose so red: ‘In secret she must have reared a son To seek vengeance for the dead.’ He dressed himself in a mantle And in a mailcoat strong; The ground it seemed would split apart When Logi rode along. Then up and spoke young William, To his mother’s brother said: ‘Who is that man so tall and strong, With a gold helm on his head?’ ‘This is what I have to tell, And it is truth I say: That is Logi of Vallarahlid, Who did your father slay.’ Then up spoke Logi of Vallarahlid, Began to mock and jest: ‘Why was it I was summoned here, That my steed should have no rest?’ ‘For my father’s death it would not be Too great a price to pay That a steed of yours, Lord Logi, Should have no rest today.’ ‘The king himself is my kinsman, And my own power is not small; Hear me, O William William’s son— I will pay you no price at all.’ 283

BA L LA DS

Then up he stood, young William, From the scabbard drew his blade, And with the first stroke that he struck, He struck off Logi’s head. He took fine gold in plenty, Riches to be his own; With his mother’s brother at his right side Thus did he ride home. ‘Hear me now, O mother mine, And I shall tell you true: I slew Logi of Vallarahlid Who once did wrong to you.’ ‘If this tale you tell me now Should in truth be true, Then in all Denmark there’s no man Of greater worth than you.’

The She-Troll CS ta fr ó a r k v æ ð i )

K a r i and Solomon They were two brothers born. They knew the runes full well. Solomon They were two brothers bom. Kari rode the dark woods among, There there came Stafro the Strong. 284

THE SHE- TROLL

Woods among, There there came Stafro the Strong. She picked up Kari beneath her cloak, Carried him far into the rock. Beneath her cloak Carried him far into the rock. ‘Hear me now, O Kari the White, We’ll sit us down and play tonight. ‘The White, We’ll sit us down and play tonight. And if, O Kari, I play with you, We’ll make a child between us two.’ ‘Play with you, We’ll make a child between us two.’ As soon as they had tried that play, Kari forgot his runes straightway. That play, Kari forgot his runes straightway. ‘Hear me, Stafro, my love so dear, Give me leave to ride back from here. ‘Love so dear, Give me leave to ride back from here.’ ‘Ride then, ride, if you wish it so, I gladly give you leave to go. ‘You wish it so, I gladly give you leave to go.’ Kari mounted his steed so brown And rode away to Solomon. Steed so brown And rode away to Solomon. ‘Hear me, my brother Solomon, Teach me the runes that I have known! 285

BA L LA DS

‘ Solomon, Teach me the runes that I have known!’ ‘I know no runes to teach you say, And you’ll not take my own away. ‘Teach you say, And you’ll not take my own away.’ They climbed up on to a stone, There he learnt the runes that he had known. On to a stone, There he learnt the runes that he had known. Kari mounted his steed so grey, To the black mountains rode his way. Steed so grey, To the black mountains rode his way. ‘Hear me, Kari, my love so dear, Why now a sword in your scabbard here? ‘Love so dear, Why now a sword in your scabbard here?’ ‘In my scabbard there’s now a sword Because of the wrath of the king my lord. ‘A sword Because of the wrath of the king my lord.’ ‘If the king’s rage towards you grows grim, Take my gold to buy peace from him. ‘Grows grim, Take my gold to buy peace from him. Hear me now, O Kari the White, Buy me a horse that I can ride. ‘The White, Buy me a horse that I can ride.’ ‘I can buy no horse that you could ride, But you could quite well run beside.

286

THE S H E - T R O L L

‘That you could ride, But you could quite well run beside.’ Wherever Kari would ride or race, Stafro was first to reach that place. Ride or race, Stafro was first to reach that place. When they came to the white sea sand, He dropped the drawn sword from his hand. White sea sand, He dropped the drawn sword from his hand. ‘Stafro, with your fair white hand, Pick my sword up from the strand! ‘White hand, Pick my sword up from the strand! ’ As soon as she had bent down there, Kari used the runes on her. Bent down there, Kari used the runes on her. ‘Stafro, you shall turn to stone, And do no harm to any m an! ‘To stone, And do no harm to any m an! Stafro, in your fair white smock, Stand you there as boundary rock!’ They knew the runes full well.

287

The Goodman and the Goodwife ( K v æ ð i a f K a r li o g K e rlin g u )

I t w as on a morning As the cock began to crow, The goodwife woke her goodman And spoke a word or so. It’s my belief he had little sleep. As soon as he had ground up A barrelful of grain, He then took twigs and branches And lit the stove again. Merrily the leaping flames In the stove did bum ; He then took up the spindle, Sat him down and spun. As soon as at that spinning Some little time he’d spent, He then took up the clothes-bag And to the river went. When he had done the washing And made the clothes all clean, He then took up the clothes-bag And went back home again. Then he cleaned the rooms out And the floors did scrub; All this he had accomplished Before the sun was up.

288

THE G O O D M A N AN D THE G O O D W IF E

‘Get you up now, Ingigerd, Now the room is clean. Do you choose to walk alone, Or on my arm to lean?’ ‘No need for you, good husband, To show such gallantry; I will not lean upon your arm, I am not ill today. ‘Hold the curtain back for me As I pass the door; If any dust falls on my head, Just let me reach your jaw.’ He held the curtain back for her As she passed the door; She struck him a heavy punch Under either jaw. In her seat the goodwife sits, Puts up her feet to rest; By the stove the goodman stands, Chums his very best. In her seat the goodwife sits, And combs each lock in turn; By the stove the goodman stands, Takes butter from the chum. The goodman climbed up on the stove And tried to reach the salt, But clutched the bag of ashes— The butter all was spoilt. From her seat the goodwife rose, Like a mighty throng; Across her goodman’s head she broke A cudgel strong. 289

BALLADS

From her seat the goodwife rose, Bitter was the feud; Across her goodman’s head she broke A beam of wood. The goodman fell a-fainting, Poor unhappy wretch! The goodwife took the water-jug And gave him a good drench. ‘Twelve little hens I have By the outer wall; Until they have laid their eggs, You’ll get no food at all!’ The goodman ran across the moors To find the eggs he sought; His neighbours stood outside their doors And laughed at this fine sport. It's my belief he had little sleep.

290