The Danish history of
Saxo Grammaticus (book I-IX)
Saxonis Grammatici Historia Danica
This text is originally
written in Latin in the early years of the 13th Century A.D.
by the Danish historian Saxo, of whom little is known except
his name. Saxo wrote 16 books of his "Danish History", but
only the first nine are here included.
PREFACE
Forasmuch as all
other nations are wont to vaunt the glory of their
achievements, and reap joy from the remembrance of their
forefathers: Absalon, Chief Pontiff of the Danes, whose zeal
ever burned high for the glorification of our land, and who
would not suffer it to be defrauded of like renown and
record, cast upon me, the least of his followers -- since
all the rest refused the task -- the work of compiling into
a chronicle the history of Denmark, and by the authority of
his constant admonition spurred my weak faculty to enter on
a labour too heavy for its strength. For who could write a
record of the deeds of Denmark? It had but lately been
admitted to the common faith: it still languished as strange
to Latin as to religion. But now that the holy ritual
brought also the command of the Latin tongue, men were as
slothful now as they were unskilled before, and their
sluggishness proved as faultful as that former neediness.
Thus it came about that my lowliness, though perceiving
itself too feeble for the aforesaid burden, yet chose rather
to strain beyond its strength than to resist his bidding;
fearing that while our neighbours rejoiced and transmitted
records of their deeds, the repute of our own people might
appear not to possess any written chronicle, but rather to
be sunk in oblivion and antiquity. Thus I, forced to put my
shoulder, which was unused to the task, to a burden
unfamiliar to all authors of preceding time, and dreading to
slight his command, have obeyed more boldly than
effectually, borrowing from the greatness of my admonisher
that good heart which the weakness of my own wit denied me.
And since, ere my
enterprise reached its goal, his death outran it; I entreat
thee chiefly, Andrew, who wast chosen by a most wholesome
and accordant vote to be successor in the same office and to
headship of spiritual things, to direct and inspire my
theme; that I may baulk by the defence of so great an
advocate that spiteful detraction which ever reviles what is
most conspicuous. For thy breast, very fruitful in
knowledge, and covered with great store of worshipful
doctrines, is to be deemed a kind of shrine of heavenly
treasures. Thou who hast searched through Gaul and Italy and
Britain also in order to gather knowledge of letters and
amass them abundantly, didst after thy long wandering obtain
a most illustrious post in a foreign school, and proved such
a pillar thereof, that thou seemedst to confer more grace on
thy degree than it did on thee. Then being made, on account
of the height of thy honours and the desert of thy virtues,
Secretary to the King, thou didst adorn that employment, in
itself bounded and insignificant, with such works of wisdom
as to leave it a piece of promotion for men of greatest rank
to covet afterwards, when thou wert transferred to that
office which now thou holdest. Wherefore Skaane has been
found to leap for joy that she has borrowed a Pontiff from
her neighbours rather than chosen one from her own people;
inasmuch as she both elected nobly and deserved joy of her
election. Being a shining light, therefore, in lineage, in
letters, and in parts, and guiding the people with the most
fruitful labours of thy teaching, thou hast won the deepest
love of thy flock, and by thy boldness in thy famous
administration hast conducted the service thou hast
undertaken unto the summit of renown. And lest thou shouldst
seem to acquire ownership on the strength of prescription,
thou hast, by a pious and bountiful will, made over a very
rich inheritance to Holy Church; choosing rather honourably
to reject riches (which are covered with the rust of cares)
than to be shackled with the greed of them and with their
burden. Likewise thou hast set about an amazing work upon
the reverend tenets of the faith; and in thy zeal to set the
service of public religion before thy private concerns,
hast, by the lesson of thy wholesome admonitions, driven
those men who refused payment of the dues belonging to
religion to do to holy things the homage that they ought;
and by thy pious gift of treasure hast atoned for the
ancient neglect of sacred buildings. Further, those who
pursued a wanton life, and yielded to the stress of
incontinence above measure, thou hast redeemed from
nerveless sloth to a more upright state of mind, partly by
continuing instant in wholesome reproof, and partly by the
noble example of simple living; leaving it in doubt whether
thou hast edified them more by word or deed. Thus thou, by
mere counsels of wisdom, hast achieved what it was not
granted to any of thy forerunners to obtain.
And I would not
have it forgotten that the more ancient of the Danes, when
any notable deeds of mettle had been done, were filled with
emulation of glory, and imitated the Roman style; not only
by relating in a choice kind of composition, which might be
called a poetical work, the roll of their lordly deeds; but
also by having graven upon rocks and cliffs, in the
characters of their own language, the works of their
forefathers, which were commonly known in poems in the
mother tongue. In the footsteps of these poems, being as it
were classic books of antiquity, I have trod; and keeping
true step with them as I translated, in the endeavour to
preserve their drift, I have taken care to render verses by
verses; so that the chronicle of what I shall have to write,
being founded upon these, may thus be known, not for a
modern fabrication, but for the utterance of antiquity;
since this present work promises not a trumpery dazzle of
language, but faithful information concerning times past.
Moreover, how many
histories must we suppose that men of such genius would have
written, could they have had skill in Latin and so slaked
their thirst for writing! Men who though they lacked
acquaintance with, the speech of Rome, were yet seized with
such a passion for bequeathing some record of their history,
that they encompassed huge boulders instead of scrolls,
borrowing rocks for the usage of books.
Nor may the pains
of the men of Thule be blotted in oblivion; for though they
lack all that can foster luxury (so naturally barren is the
soil), yet they make up for their neediness by their wit, by
keeping continually every observance of soberness, and
devoting every instant of their lives to perfecting our
knowledge of the deeds of foreigners. Indeed, they account
it a delight to learn and to consign to remembrance the
history of all nations, deeming it as great a glory to set
forth the excellences of others as to display their own.
Their stores, which are stocked with attestations of
historical events, I have examined somewhat closely, and
have woven together no small portion of the present work by
following their narrative, not despising the judgment of men
whom I know to be so well versed in the knowledge of
antiquity. And I have taken equal care to follow the
statements of Absalon, and with obedient mind and pen to
include both his own doings and other men's doings of which
he learnt; treasuring the witness of his August narrative as
though it were some teaching from the skies.
Wherefore,
Waldemar, (1) healthful Prince and Father of us all, shining
light of thy land, whose lineage, most glorious from times
of old, I am to relate, I beseech thee let thy grace attend
the faltering course of this work; for I am fettered under
the weight of my purpose, and dread that I may rather expose
my unskillfulness and the feebleness of my parts, than
portray thy descent as I duly should. For, not to speak of
thy rich inheritance from thy fathers, thou hast nobly
increased thy realm by conquering thy neighbours, and in the
toil of spreading thy sovereignty hast encompassed the
ebbing and flowing waves of Elbe, thus adding to thy crowded
roll of honours no mean portion of fame. And after
outstripping the renown and repute of thy forerunners by the
greatness of thy deeds, thou didst not forbear to make
armed, assault even upon part of the Roman empire. And
though thou art deemed to be well endowed with courage and
generosity, thou hast left it in doubt whether thou dost
more terrify to thy foes in warfare or melt thy people by
thy mildness. Also thy most illustrious grandsire, who was
sanctioned with the honours of public worship, and earned
the glory of immortality by an unmerited death, now dazzles
by the refulgence of his holiness those whom living he
annexed in his conquests. And from his most holy wounds more
virtue than blood hath flowed.
Moreover I, bound
by an old and inherited duty of obedience, have set my heart
on fighting for thee, if it be only with all the forces of
my mind; my father and grandfather being known to have
served thy illustrious sire in camp with loyal endurance of
the toils of war. Relying therefore on thy guidance and
regard, I have resolved to begin with the position and
configuration of our own country; for I shall relate all
things as they come more vividly, if the course of this
history first traverse the places to which the events
belong, and take their situation as the starting-point for
its narrative.
The extremes, then,
of this country are partly bounded by a frontier of another
land, and partly enclosed by the waters of the adjacent sea.
The interior is washed and encompassed by the ocean; and
this, through the circuitous winds of the interstices, now
straitens into the narrows of a firth, now advances into
ampler bays, forming a number of islands. Hence Denmark is
cut in pieces by the intervening waves of ocean, and has but
few portions of firm and continuous territory; these being
divided by the mass of waters that break them up, in ways
varying with the different angle of the bend of the sea. Of
all these, Jutland, being the largest and first settled,
holds the chief place in the Danish kingdom. It both lies
fore-most and stretches furthest, reaching to the frontiers
of Teutonland, from contact with which it is severed by the
bed of the river Eyder. Northwards it swells somewhat in
breadth, and runs out to the shore of the Noric Channel
(Skagerrak). In this part is to be found the fjord called
Liim, which is so full of fish that it seems to yield the
natives as much food as the whole soil.
Close by this fjord
also lies Lesser (North) Friesland, which curves in from the
promontory of Jutland in a cove of sinking plains and
shelving lap, and by the favour of the flooding ocean yields
immense crops of grain. But whether this violent inundation
bring the inhabitants more profit or peril, remains a vexed
question. For when the (dykes of the) estuaries, whereby the
waves of the sea are commonly checked among that people, are
broken through by the greatness of the storm, such a mass of
waters is wont to overrun the fields that it sometimes
overwhelms not only the tilled lands, but people and their
dwellings likewise.
Eastwards, after
Jutland, comes the Isle of Funen, cut off from the mainland
by a very narrow sound of sea. This faces Jutland on the
west, and on the east Zealand, which is famed for its
remarkable richness in the necessaries of life. This latter
island, being by far the most delightful of all the
provinces of our country, is held to occupy the heart of
Denmark, being divided by equal distances from the extreme
frontier; on its eastern side the sea breaks through and
cuts off the western side of Skaane; and this sea commonly
yields each year an abundant haul to the nets of the
fishers. Indeed, the whole sound is apt to be so thronged
with fish that any craft which strikes on them is with
difficulty got off by hard rowing, and the prize is captured
no longer by tackle, but by simple use of the hands.
Moreover, Halland
and Bleking, shooting forth from the mass of the Skaane like
two branches from a parent trunk, are linked to Gothland and
to Norway, though with wide deviations of course, and with
various gaps consisting of fjords. Now in Bleking is to be
seen a rock which travellers can visit, dotted with letters
in a strange character. For there stretches from the
southern sea into the desert of Vaarnsland a road of rock,
contained between two lines a little way apart and very
prolonged, between which is visible in the midst a level
space, graven all over with characters made to be read. And
though this lies so unevenly as sometimes to break through
the tops of the hills, sometimes to pass along the valley
bottoms, yet it can be discerned to preserve continuous
traces of the characters. Now Waldemar, well-starred son of
holy Canute, marvelled at these, and desired to know their
purport, and sent men to go along the rock and gather with
close search the series of the characters that were to be
seen there; they were then to denote them with certain
marks, using letters of similar shape. These men could not
gather any sort of interpretation of them, because owing to
the hollow space of the graving being partly smeared up with
mud and partly worn by the feet of travellers in the
trampling of the road, the long line that had been drawn
became blurred. Hence it is plain that crevices, even in the
solid rock, if long drenched with wet, become choked either
by the solid washings of dirt or the moistening drip of
showers.
But since this
country, by its closeness of language as much as of
position, includes Sweden and Norway, I will record their
divisions and their climates also as I have those of
Denmark. These territories, lying under the northern pole,
and facing Bootes and the Great Bear, reach with their
utmost outlying parts the latitude of the freezing zone; and
beyond these the extraordinary sharpness of the cold suffers
not human habitation. Of these two, Norway has been allotted
by the choice of nature a forbidding rocky site. Craggy and
barren, it is beset all around by cliffs, and the huge
desolate boulders give it the aspect of a rugged and a
gloomy land; in its furthest part the day-star is not hidden
even by night; so that the sun, scorning the vicissitudes of
day and night, ministers in unbroken presence an equal share
of his radiance to either season.
On the west of
Norway comes the island called Iceland, with the mighty
ocean washing round it: a land very squalid to dwell in, but
noteworthy for marvels, both strange occurrences and objects
that pass belief. A spring is there which, by the malignant
reek of its water, destroys the original nature of anything
whatsoever. Indeed, all that is sprinkled with the breath of
its vapour is changed into the hardness of stone. It remains
a doubt whether it be more marvellous or more perilous, that
soft and flowing water should be invested with such a
stiffness, as by a sudden change to transmute into the
nature of stone whatsoever is put to it and drenched with
its reeking fume, nought but the shape surviving. Here also
are said to be other springs, which now are fed with floods
of rising water, and, overflowing in full channels, cast a
mass of spray upwards; and now again their bubbling flags,
and they can scarce be seen below at the bottom, and are
swallowed into deep hiding far under ground. Hence, when
they are gushing over, they bespatter everything about them
with the white spume, but when they are spent the sharpest
eye cannot discern them. In this island there is likewise a
mountain, whose floods of incessant fire make it look like a
glowing rock, and which, by belching out flames, keeps its
crest in an everlasting blaze. This thing awakens our wonder
as much as those aforesaid; namely, when a land lying close
to the extreme of cold can have such abundance of matter to
keep up the heat, as to furnish eternal fires with unseen
fuel, and supply an endless provocative to feed the burning.
To this isle also, at fixed and appointed seasons, there
drifts a boundless mass of ice, and when it approaches and
begins to dash upon the rugged reefs, then, just as if the
cliffs rang reply, there is heard from the deep a roar of
voices and a changing din of extraordinary clamour. Whence
it is supposed that spirits, doomed to torture for the
iniquity of their guilty life, do here pay, by that bitter
cold, the penalty of their sins. And so any portion of this
mass that is cut off when the aforesaid ice breaks away from
the land, soon slips its bonds and bars, though it be made
fast with ever so great joins and knots. The mind stands
dazed in wonder, that a thing which is covered with bolts
past picking, and shut in by manifold and intricate
barriers, should so depart after that mass whereof it was a
portion, as by its enforced and inevitable flight to baffle
the wariest watching. There also, set among the ridges and
crags of the mountains, is another kind of ice which is
known periodically to change and in a way reverse its
position, the upper parts sinking to the bottom, and the
lower again returning to the top. For proof of this story it
is told that certain men, while they chanced to be running
over the level of ice, rolled into the abyss before them,
and into the depths of the yawning crevasses, and were a
little later picked up dead without the smallest chink of
ice above them. Hence it is common for many to imagine that
the urn of the sling of ice first swallows them, and then a
little after turns upside down and restores them. Here also,
is reported to bubble up the water of a pestilent flood,
which if a man taste, he falls struck as though by poison.
Also there are other springs, whose gushing waters are said
to resemble the quality of the bowl of Ceres. There are also
fires, which, though they cannot consume linen, yet devour
so fluent a thing as water. Also there is a rock, which
flies over mountain- steeps, not from any outward impulse,
but of its innate and proper motion.
And now to unfold
somewhat more thoroughly our delineation of Norway. It
should be known that on the east it is conterminous with
Sweden and Gothland, and is bounded on both sides by the
waters of the neighbouring ocean. Also on the north it faces
a region whose position and name are unknown, and which
lacks all civilisation, but teems with peoples of monstrous
strangeness; and a vast interspace of flowing sea severs it
from the portion of Norway opposite. This sea is found
hazardous for navigation, and suffers few that venture
thereon to return in peace.
Moreover, the upper
bend of the ocean, which cuts through Denmark and flows past
it, washes the southern side of Gothland with a gulf of some
width; while its lower channel, passing the northern sides
of Gothland and Norway, turns eastwards, widening much in
breadth, and is bounded by a curve of firm land. This limit
of the sea the elders of our race called Grandvik. Thus
between Grandvik and the Southern Sea there lies a short
span of mainland, facing the seas that wash on either shore;
and but that nature had set this as a boundary where the
billows almost meet, the tides of the two seas would have
flowed into one, and cut off Sweden and Norway into an
island. The regions on the east of these lands are inhabited
by the Skric-Finns. This people is used to an extraordinary
kind of carriage, and in its passion for the chase strives
to climb untrodden mountains, and attains the coveted ground
at the cost of a slippery circuit. For no crag juts out so
high, but they can reach its crest by fetching a cunning.
compass. For when they first leave the deep valleys, they
glide twisting and circling among the bases of the rocks,
thus making the route very roundabout by dint of continually
swerving aside, until, passing along the winding curves of
the tracks, they conquer the appointed summit. This same
people is wont to use the skins of certain beasts for
merchandise with its neighbours.
Now Sweden faces
Denmark and Norway on the west, but on the south and on much
of its eastern side it is skirted by the ocean. Past this
eastward is to be found a vast accumulation of motley
barbarism.
That the country of
Denmark was once cultivated and worked by giants, is
attested by the enormous stones attached to the barrows and
caves of the ancients. Should any man question that this is
accomplished by superhuman force, let him look up at the
tops of certain mountains and say, if he knows how, what man
hath carried such immense boulders up to their crests. For
anyone considering this marvel will mark that it is
inconceivable how a mass, hardly at all or but with
difficulty movable upon a level, could have been raised to
so mighty a peak of so lofty a mountain by mere human
effort, or by the ordinary exertion of human strength. But
as to whether, after the Deluge went forth, there existed
giants who could do such deeds, or men endowed beyond others
with bodily force, there is scant tradition to tell us.
But, as our
countrymen aver, those who even to-day are said to dwell in
that rugged and inaccessible desert aforesaid, are, by the
mutable nature of their bodies, vouchsafed the power of
being now near, now far, and of appearing and vanishing in
turn. The approach to this desert is beset with perils of a
fearful kind, and has seldom granted to those who attempted
it an unscathed return. Now I will let my pen pass to my
theme.
ENDNOTES:
(1) Waldemar the Second (1203-42); Saxo does not reach his
history.
BOOK ONE
Now Dan and Angul,
with whom the stock of the Danes begins, were begotten of
Humble, their father, and were the governors and not only
the founders of our race. (Yet Dudo, the historian of
Normandy, considers that the Danes are sprung and named from
the Danai.) And these two men, though by the wish and favour
of their country they gained the lordship of the realm, and,
owing to the wondrous deserts of their bravery, got the
supreme power by the consenting voice of their countrymen,
yet lived without the name of king: the usage whereof was
not then commonly resorted to by any authority among our
people.
Of these two,
Angul, the fountain, so runs the tradition, of the
beginnings of the Anglian race, caused his name to be
applied to the district which he ruled. This was an easy
kind of memorial wherewith to immortalise his fame: for his
successors a little later, when they gained possession of
Britain, changed the original name of the island for a fresh
title, that of their own land. This action was much thought
of by the ancients: witness Bede, no mean figure among the
writers of the Church, who was a native of England, and made
it his care to embody the doings of his country in the most
hallowed treasury of his pages; deeming it equally a
religious duty to glorify in writing the deeds of his land,
and to chronicle the history of the Church.
From Dan, however,
so saith antiquity; the pedigrees of our kings have flowed
in glorious series, like channels from some parent spring.
Grytha, a matron most highly revered among the Teutons, bore
him two sons, HUMBLE and LOTHER.
The ancients, when
they were to choose a king, were wont to stand on stones
planted in the ground, and to proclaim their votes, in order
to foreshadow from the steadfastness of the stones that the
deed would be lasting. By this ceremony Humble was elected
king at his father's death, thus winning a novel favour from
his country; but by the malice of ensuing fate he fell from
a king into a common man. For he was taken by Lother in war,
and bought his life by yielding up his crown; such, in
truth, were the only terms of escape offered him in his
defeat. Forced, therefore, by the injustice of a brother to
lay down his sovereignty, he furnished the lesson to
mankind, that there is less safety, though more pomp, in the
palace than in the cottage. Also, he bore his wrong so
meekly that he seemed to rejoice at his loss of title as
though it were a blessing; and I think he had a shrewd sense
of the quality of a king's estate. But Lother played the
king as insupportably as he had played the soldier,
inaugurating his reign straightway with arrogance and crime;
for he counted it uprightness to strip all the most eminent
of life or goods, and to clear his country of its loyal
citizens, thinking all his equals in birth his rivals for
the crown. He was soon chastised for his wickedness; for he
met his end in an insurrection of his country; which had
once bestowed on him his kingdom, and now bereft him of his
life.
SKIOLD, his son,
inherited his natural bent, but not his behaviour; avoiding
his inborn perversity by great discretion in his tender
years, and thus escaping all traces of his father's taint.
So he appropriated what was alike the more excellent and the
earlier share of the family character; for he wisely
departed from his father's sins, and became a happy
counterpart of his grandsire's virtues. This man was famous
in his youth among the huntsmen of his father for his
conquest of a monstrous beast: a marvellous incident, which
augured his future prowess. For he chanced to obtain leave
from his guardians, who were rearing him very carefully, to
go and see the hunting. A bear of extraordinary size met
him; he had no spear, but with the girdle that he commonly
wore he contrived to bind it, and gave it to his escort to
kill. More than this, many champions of tried prowess were
at the same time of his life vanquished by him singly; of
these Attal and Skat were renowned and famous. While but
fifteen years of age he was of unusual bodily size and
displayed mortal strength in its perfection, and so mighty
were the proofs of his powers that the rest of the kings of
the Danes were called after him by a common title, the
SKIOLDUNG'S. Those who were wont to live an abandoned and
flaccid life, and to sap their selfcontrol by wantonness,
this man vigilantly spurred to the practice of virtue in an
active career. Thus the ripeness of Skiold's spirit
outstripped the fulness of his strength, and he fought
battles at which one of his tender years could scarce look
on. And as he thus waxed in years and valour he beheld the
perfect beauty of Alfhild, daughter of the King of the
Saxons, sued for her hand, and, for her sake, in the sight
of the armies of the Teutons and the Danes, challenged and
fought with Skat, governor of Allemannia, and a suitor for
the same maiden; whom he slew, afterwards crushing the whole
nation of the Allemannians, and forcing them to pay tribute,
they being subjugated by the death of their captain. Skiold
was eminent for patriotism as well as arms. For he annulled
unrighteous laws, and most heedfully executed whatsoever
made for the amendment of his country's condition. Further,
he regained by his virtue the realm that his father's
wickedness had lost. He was the first to proclaim the law
abolishing manumissions. A slave, to whom he had chanced to
grant his freedom, had attempted his life by stealthy
treachery, and he exacted a bitter penalty; as though it
were just that the guilt of one freedman should be visited
upon all. He paid off all men's debts from his own treasury,
and contended, so to say, with all other monarchs in
courage, bounty, and generous dealing. The sick he used to
foster, and charitably gave medicines to those sore
stricken; bearing witness that he had taken on him the care
of his country and not of himself. He used to enrich his
nobles not only with home taxes, but also with plunder taken
in war; being wont to aver that the prize-money should flow
to the soldiers, and the glory to the general.
Thus delivered of
his bitterest rival in wooing, he took as the prize of
combat the maiden, for the love of whom he had fought, and
wedded her in marriage. Soon after, he had by her a son,
GRAM, whose wondrous parts savoured so strongly of his
father's virtues that he was deemed to tread in their very
footsteps. The days of Gram's youth were enriched with
surpassing gifts of mind and body, and he raised them to the
crest of renown. Posterity did such homage to his greatness
that in the most ancient poems of the Danes royal dignity is
implied in his very name. He practiced with the most zealous
training whatsoever serves to sharpen and strengthen the
bodily powers. Taught by the fencers, he trained himself by
sedulous practice to parrying and dealing blows. He took to
wife the daughter of his upbringer, Roar, she being his
foster-sister and of his own years, in order the better to
show his gratefulness for his nursing. A little while after
he gave her in marriage to a certain Bess, since he had
ofttimes used his strenuous service. In this partner of his
warlike deeds he put his trust; and he has left it a
question whether he has won more renown by Bess's valour or
his own.
Gram, chancing to
hear that Groa, daughter of Sigtryg, King of the Swedes, was
plighted to a certain giant, and holding accursed an union
so unworthy of the blood royal, entered on a Swedish war;
being destined to emulate the prowess of Hercules in
resisting the attempts of monsters. He went into Gothland,
and, in order to frighten people out of his path, strode on
clad in goats' skins, swathed in the motley hides of beasts,
and grasping in his right hand a dreadful weapon, thus
feigning the attire of a giant; when he met Groa herself
riding with a very small escort of women on foot, and making
her way, as it chanced, to the forest-pools to bathe, she
thought it was her betrothed who had hastened to meet her,
and was scared with feminine alarm at so strange a garb: so,
flinging up the reins, and shaking terribly all over, she
began in the song of her country, thus:
"I see that a
giant, hated of the king, has come, and darkens the highways
with his stride. Or my eyes play me false; for it has oft
befallen bold warriors to skulk behind the skin of a beast."
Then began Bess:
"Maiden, seated on the shoulders of the steed, tell me,
pouring forth in thy turn words of answer, what is thy name,
and of what line art thou born?"
Groa replied: "Groa
is my name; my sire is a king, glorious in blood, gleaming
in armour. Disclose to us, thou also, who thou art, or
whence sprung!"
To whom Bess: "I am
Bess, brave in battle, ruthless to foes, a terror to
nations, and oft drenching my right hand in the blood of
foes."
Then said Groa:
"Who, prithee, commands your lines? Under what captain raise
ye the war-standards? What prince controls the battle? Under
whose guidance is the war made ready?"
Bess in answer:
"Gram, the blest in battle, rules the array: force nor fear
can swerve him; flaming pyre and cruel sword and ocean
billow have never made him afraid. Led by him, maiden, we
raise the golden standards of war."
Groa once more:
"Turn your feet and go back hence, lest Sigtryg vanquish you
all with his own array, and fasten you to a cruel stake,
your throats haltered with the cord, and doom your carcases
to the stiff noose, and, glaring evilly, thrust out your
corpses to the hungry raven."
Bess again: "Gram,
ere he shall shut his own eyes in death, shall first make
him a ghost, and, smiting him on the crest, shall send him
to Tartarus. We fear no camp of the Swedes. Why threaten us
with ghastly dooms, maiden?"
Groa answered him:
"Behold, I will ride thence to see again the roof of my
father which I know, that I may not rashly set eyes on the
array of my brother who is coming. And I pray that your
death-doom may tarry for you who abide."
Bess replied:
"Daughter, to thy father go back with good cheer; nor
imprecate swift death upon us, nor let choler shake thy
bosom. For often has a woman, harsh at first and hard to a
wooer, yielded the second time."
Whereupon Gram
could brook no longer to be silent, and pitching his tones
gruffly, so as to mimic a gruesome and superhuman voice,
accosted the maiden thus:
"Let not the maiden
fear the brother of the fleet giant, nor turn pale because I
am nigh her. For I am sent by Grip, and never seek the couch
and embrace of damsels save when their wish matches mine."
Groa answered: "Who
so mad as to wish to be the leman of giants? Or what woman
could love the bed that genders monsters? Who could be the
wife of demons, and know the seed whose fruit is monstrous?
Or who would fain share her couch with a barbarous giant?
Who caresses thorns with her fingers? Who would mingle
honest kisses with mire? Who would unite shaggy limbs to
smooth ones which correspond not? Full ease of love cannot
be taken when nature cries out against it: nor doth the love
customary in the use of women sort with monsters."
Gram rejoined: "Oft
with conquering hand I have tamed the necks of mighty kings,
defeating with stronger arm their insolent pride. Thence
take red-glowing gold, that the troth may be made firm by
the gift, and that the faith to be brought to our wedlock
may stand fast."
Thus speaking, he
cast off his disguises, and revealed his natural comeliness;
and by a single sight of him he filled the damsel with
well-nigh as much joy as he had struck her with fear before
at his counterfeit. She was even incited to his embraces by
the splendour of his beauty; nor did he fail to offer her
the gifts of love.
Having won Groa,
Bess proceeded and learnt that the road was beset by two
robbers. These he slew simply by charging them as they
rushed covetously forth to despoil him. This done, loth to
seem to have done any service to the soil of an enemy, he
put timbers under the carcases of the slain, fastened them
thereto, and stretched them so as to counterfeit an upright
standing position; so that in their death they might menace
in seeming those whom their life had harmed in truth; and
that, terrible even after their decease, they might block
the road in effigy as much as they had once in deed. Whence
it appears that in slaying the robbers he took thought for
himself and not for Sweden: for he betokened by so singular
an act how great a hatred of Sweden filled him. Having heard
from the diviners that Sigtryg could only be conquered by
gold, he straightway fixed a knob of gold to a wooden mace,
equipped himself therewith in the war wherein he attacked
the king, and obtained his desire. This exploit was besung
by Bess in a most zealous strain of eulogy:
"Gram, the fierce
wielder of the prosperous mace, knowing not the steel,
rained blows on the outstretched sword, and with a stock
beat off the lances of the mighty.
"Following the
decrees and will of the gods, he brought low the glory of
the powerless Swedes, doing their king to death and crushing
him with the stiff gold.
"For he pondered on
the arts of war: he wielded in his clasp the ruddy-flashing
wood, and victoriously with noble stroke made their fallen
captain writhe.
"Shrewdly he
conquered with the hardness of gold him whom fate forbade
should be slain by steel; unsworded, waging war with the
worthier metal.
"This treasure, for
which its deviser claims glory and the height of honour,
shall abide yet more illustrious hereafter, known far and
wide in ampler fame."
Having now slain
Sigtryg, the King of Sweden, Gram desired to confirm his
possession of the empire which he had won in war; and
therefore, suspecting Swarin the governor of Gothland of
aspiring to the crown, he challenged him to combat, and slew
him. This man's brethren, of whom he had seven lawfully
born, and nine the sons of a concubine, sought to avenge
their brother's death, but Gram, in an unequal contest, cut
them off.
Gram, for his
marvellous prowess, was granted a share in the sovereignty
by his father, who was now in extreme age, and thought it
better and likewise more convenient to give his own blood a
portion of the supremacy of the realm, than now in the
setting of his life to administer it without a partner.
Therefore Ring, a nobly-born Zealander, stirred the greater
part of the Danes with desire for insurrection; fancying
that one of these men was unripe for his rank, and that the
other had run the course of his powers, alleging the
weakness in years of both, and declaring that the wandering
wit of an old man made the one, and that of a boy the other,
unfit for royal power. But they fought and crushed him,
making him an example to all men, that no season of life is
to be deemed incompatible with valour.
Many other deeds
also King Gram did. He declared war against Sumble, King of
the Finns; but when he set eyes upon the King's daughter,
Signe, he laid down his arms, the foeman turned into the
suitor, and, promising to put away his own wife, he plighted
troth with her. But, while much busied with a war against
Norway, which he had taken up against King Swipdag for
debauching his sister and his daughter, he heard from a
messenger that Signe had, by Sumble's treachery, been
promised in marriage to Henry, King of Saxony. Then,
inclining to love the maiden more than his soldiers, he left
his army, privily made his way to Finland, and came in upon
the wedding, which was already begun. Putting on a garb of
the utmost meanness, he lay down at the table in a seat of
no honour. When asked what he brought, he professed skill in
leechcraft. At last, when all were drenched in drunkenness,
he gazed at the maiden, and amid the revels of the riotous
banquet, cursing deep the fickleness of women, and vaunting
loud his own deeds of valour, he poured out the greatness of
his wrath in a song like this:
"Singly against
eight at once I drove the darts of death, and smote nine
with a back-swung sword, when I slew Swarin, who wrongfully
assumed his honours and tried to win fame unmerited;
wherefore I have oft dyed in foreign blood my blade red with
death and reeking with slaughter, and have never blenched at
the clash of dagger or the sheen of helmet. Now Signe, the
daughter of Sumble, vilely spurns me, and endures vows not
mine, cursing her ancient troth; and, conceiving an
ill-ordered love, commits a notable act of female lightness;
for she entangles, lures, and bestains princes, rebuffing
beyond all others the lordly of birth; yet remaining firm to
none, but ever wavering, and bringing to birth impulses
doubtful and divided."
And as he spoke he
leapt up from where he lay, and there he cut Henry down
while at the sacred board and the embraces of his friends,
carried off his bride from amongst the bridesmaids, felled
most of the guests, and bore her off with him in his ship.
Thus the bridal was turned into a funeral; and the Finns
might learn the lesson, that hands should not be laid upon
the loves of other men.
After this SWIPDAG,
King of Norway, destroyed Gram, who was attempting to avenge
the outrage on his sister and the attempt on his daughter's
chastity. This battle was notable for the presence of the
Saxon forces, who were incited to help Swipdag, not so much
by love of him, as by desire to avenge Henry.
GUTHORM and
HADDING, the son of Gram (Groa being the mother of the first
and Signe of the second), were sent over to Sweden in a ship
by their foster-father, Brage (Swipdag being now master of
Denmark), and put in charge of the giants Wagnhofde and
Hafle, for guard as well as rearing.
As I shall have
briefly to relate doings of these folk, and would fain not
seem to fabricate what conflicts with common belief or
outsteps the faithful truth, it is worth the knowing that
there were in old times three kinds of magicians who by
diverse sleights practiced extraordinary marvels. The first
of these were men of monstrous stock, termed by antiquity
giants; these by their exceeding great bodily stature
surpassed the size natural to mankind. Those who came after
these were the first who gained skill in divination from
entrails, and attained the Pythonic art. These surpassed the
former in briskness of mental parts as much as they fell
behind them in bodily condition. Constant wars for the
supremacy were waged between these and the giants; till at
last the sorcerers prevailed, subdued the tribe of giants by
arms, and acquired not merely the privilege of ruling, but
also the repute of being divine. Both of these kinds had
extreme skill in deluding the eyesight, knowing how to
obscure their own faces and those of others with divers
semblances, and to darken the true aspects of things with
beguiling shapes. But the third kind of men, springing from
the natural union of the first two, did not answer to the
nature of their parents either in bodily size or in practice
of magic arts; yet these gained credit for divinity with
minds that were befooled by their jugglings.
Nor must we marvel
if, tempted by the prodigious miracles of these folk, the
barbaric world fell to worshipping a false religion, when
others like unto these, who were mere mortals, but were
reverenced with divine honours, beguiled even the shrewdness
of the Latins. I have touched on these things lest, when I
relate of sleights and marvels, I be checked by the
disbelief of the reader. Now I will leave these matters and
return to my theme.
Swipdag, now that
he had slain Gram, was enriched with the realms of Denmark
and Sweden; and because of the frequent importunities of his
wife he brought back from banishment her brother Guthorm,
upon his promising tribute, and made him ruler of the Danes.
But Hadding preferred to avenge his father rather than take
a boon from his foe.
This man's nature
so waxed and throve that in the early season of his youth he
was granted the prime of manhood. Leaving the pursuit of
pleasure, he was constantly zealous in warlike exercises;
remembering that he was the son of a fighting father, and
was bound to spend his whole span of life in approved deeds
of warfare. Hardgrep, daughter of Wagnhofde, tried to
enfeeble his firm spirit with her lures of love, contending
and constantly averring that he ought to offer the first
dues of the marriage bed in wedlock with her, who had
proffered to his childhood most zealous and careful
fostering, and had furnished him with his first rattle.
Nor was she content
with admonishing in plain words, but began a strain of song
as follows:
"Why doth thy life
thus waste and wander? Why dost thou pass thy years unwed,
following arms, thirsting for throats? Nor does my beauty
draw thy vows. Carried away by excess of frenzy, thou art
little prone to love. Steeped in blood and slaughter, thou
judgest wars better than the bed, nor refreshest thy soul
with incitements. Thy fierceness finds no leisure; dalliance
is far from thee, and savagery fostered. Nor is thy hand
free from blasphemy while thou loathest the rites of love.
Let this hateful strictness pass away, let that loving
warmth approach, and plight the troth of love to me, who
gave thee the first breasts of milk in childhood, and helped
thee, playing a mother's part, duteous to thy needs."
When he answered
that the size of her body was unwieldy for the embraces of a
mortal, since doubtless her nature was framed in conformity
to her giant stock, she said:
"Be not moved by my
unwonted look of size. For my substance is sometimes
thinner, sometimes ampler; now meagre, now abundant; and I
alter and change at my pleasure the condition of my body,
which is at one time shrivelled up and at another time
expanded: now my tallness rises to the heavens, and now I
settle down into a human being, under a more bounded shape."
As he still
faltered, and was slow to believe her words, she added the
following song:
"Youth, fear not
the converse of my bed. I change my bodily outline in
twofold wise, and am wont to enjoin a double law upon my
sinews. For I conform to shapes of different figure in turn,
and am altered at my own sweet will: now my neck is
star-high, and soars nigh to the lofty Thunderer; then it
falls and declines to human strength, and plants again on
earth that head which was near the firmament. Thus I lightly
shift my body into diverse phases, and am beheld in varying
wise; for changefully now cramped stiffness draws in my
limbs, now the virtue of my tall body unfolds them, and
suffers them to touch the cloud-tops. Now I am short and
straitened, now stretch out with loosened knee; and I have
mutably changed myself like wax into strange aspects. He who
knows of Proteus should not marvel at me. My shape never
stays the same, and my aspect is twofold: at one time it
contrasts its outstretched limbs, at another shoots them out
when closed; now disentangling the members and now rolling
them back into a coil. I dart out my ingathered limbs, and
presently, while they are strained, I wrinkle them up,
dividing my countenance between shapes twain, and adopting
two forms; with the greater of these I daunt the fierce,
while with the shorter I seek the embraces of men."
By thus averring
she obtained the embraces of Hadding; and her love for the
youth burned so high that when she found him desirous of
revisiting his own land, she did not hesitate to follow him
in man's attire, and counted it as joy to share his
hardships and perils. While upon the journey she had
undertaken, she chanced to enter in his company, in order to
pass the night, a dwelling, the funeral of whose dead master
was being conducted with melancholy rites. Here, desiring to
pry into the purposes of heaven by the help of a magical
espial, she graved on wood some very dreadful spells, and
caused Hadding to put them under the dead man's tongue; thus
forcing him to utter, with the voice so given, a strain
terrible to hear:
"Perish accursed he
who hath dragged me back from those below, let him be
punished for calling a spirit out of bale!
"Whoso hath called
me, who am lifeless and dead, back from the abode below, and
hath brought me again into upper air, let him pay full
penalty with his own death in the dreary shades beneath
livid Styx. Behold, counter to my will and purpose, I must
declare some bitter tidings. For as ye go away from this
house ye will come to the narrow path of a grove, and will
be a prey to demons all about. Then she who hath brought our
death back from out of void, and has given us a sight of
this light once more, by her prayers wondrously drawing
forth the ghost and casting it into the bonds of the body,
shall bitterly bewail her rash enterprise.
"Perish accursed he
who hath dragged me back from those below, let him be
punished for calling a spirit out of bale!
"For when the black
pestilence of the blast that engenders monsters has crushed
out the inmost entrails with stern effort, and when their
hand has swept away the living with cruel nail, tearing off
limbs and rending ravished bodies; then Hadding, thy life
shall survive, nor shall the nether realms bear off thy
ghost, nor thy spirit pass heavily to the waters of Styx;
but the woman who hath made the wretched ghost come back
hither, crushed by her own guilt, shall appease our dust;
she shall be dust herself.
"Perish accursed he
who hath dragged me back from those below, let him be
punished for calling a spirit out of bale!"
So, while they were
passing the night in the forest foretold them, in a shelter
framed of twigs, a hand of extraordinary size was seen to
wander over the inside of the dwelling. Terrified at this
portent, Hadding entreated the aid of his nurse. Then
Hardgrep, expanding her limbs and swelling to a mighty
bigness, gripped the hand fast and held it to her
foster-child to hew off. What flowed from the noisesome
wounds he dealt was not so much blood as corrupt matter. But
she paid the penalty of this act, presently being torn in
pieces by her kindred of the same stock; nor did her
constitution or her bodily size help her against feeling the
attacks of her foes' claws.
Hadding, thus
bereft of his foster-mother, chanced to be made an ally in a
solemn covenant to a rover, Lysir, by a certain man of great
age that had lost an eye, who took pity on his loneliness.
Now the ancients, when about to make a league, were wont to
besprinkle their footsteps with blood of one another, so to
ratify their pledge of friendship by reciprocal barter of
blood. Lysir and Hadding, being bound thus in the strictest
league, declared war against Loker, the tyrant of the
Kurlanders. They were defeated; and the old man
aforementioned took Hadding, as he fled on horseback, to his
own house, and there refreshed him with a certain pleasant
draught, telling him that he would find himself quite brisk
and sound in body. This prophetic advice he confirmed by a
song as follows:
"As thou farest
hence, a foe, thinking thee a deserter, will assail thee,
that he may keep thee bound and cast thee to be devoured by
the mangling jaws of beasts. But fill thou the ears of the
warders with divers tales, and when they have done the feast
and deep sleep holds them, snap off the fetters upon thee
and the loathly chains. Turn thy feet thence, and when a
little space has fled, with all thy might rise up against a
swift lion who is wont to toss the carcases of the
prisoners, and strive with thy stout arms against his savage
shoulders, and with naked sword search his heart-strings.
Straightway put thy throat to him and drink the steaming
blood, and devour with ravenous jaws the banquet of his
body. Then renewed strength will come to thy limbs, then
shall undreamed-of might enter thy sinews, and an
accumulation of stout force shall bespread and nerve thy
frame through~out. I myself will pave the path to thy
prayers, and will subdue the henchmen in sleep, and keep
them snoring throughout the lingering night."
And as he spoke, he
took back the young man on his horse, and set him where he
had found him. Hadding cowered trembling under his mantle;
but so extreme was his wonder at the event, that with keen
vision he peered through its holes. And he saw that before
the steps of the horse lay the sea; but was told not to
steal a glimpse of the forbidden thing, and therefore turned
aside his amazed eyes from the dread spectacle of the roads
that he journeyed. Then he was taken by Loker, and found by
very sure experience that every point of the prophecy was
fulfilled upon him. So he assailed Handwan, king of the
Hellespont, who was entrenched behind an impregnable defence
of wall in his city Duna, and withstood him not in the
field, but with battlements. Its summit defying all approach
by a besieger, he ordered that the divers kinds of birds who
were wont to nest in that spot should be caught by skilled
fowlers, and he caused wicks which had been set on fire to
be fastened beneath their wings. The birds sought the
shelter of their own nests, and filled the city with a
blaze; all the townsmen flocked to quench it, and left the
gates defenceless. He attacked and captured Handwan, but
suffered him to redeem his life with gold for ransom. Thus,
when he might have cut off his foe, he preferred to grant
him the breath of life; so far did his mercy qualify his
rage.
After this he
prevailed over a great force of men of the East, and came
back to Sweden. Swipdag met him with a great fleet off
Gottland; but Hadding attacked and destroyed him. And thus
he advanced to a lofty pitch of renown, not only by the
fruits of foreign spoil, but by the trophies of his
vengeance for his brother and his father. And he exchanged
exile for royalty, for he became king of his own land as
soon as he regained it.
At this time there
was one Odin, who was credited over all Europe with the
honour, which was false, of godhead, but used more
continually to sojourn at Upsala; and in this spot, either
from the sloth of the inhabitants or from its own
pleasantness, he vouchsafed to dwell with somewhat especial
constancy. The kings of the North, desiring more zealously
to worship his deity, embounded his likeness in a golden
image; and this statue, which betokened their homage, they
transmitted with much show of worship to Byzantium,
fettering even the effigied arms with a serried mass of
bracelets. Odin was overjoyed at such notoriety, and greeted
warmly the devotion of the senders. But his queen Frigga,
desiring to go forth more beautified, called smiths, and had
the gold stripped from the statue. Odin hanged them, and
mounted the statue upon a pedestal, which by the marvellous
skill of his art he made to speak when a mortal touched it.
But still Frigga preferred the splendour of her own apparel
to the divine honours of her husband, and submitted herself
to the embraces of one of her servants; and it was by this
man's device she broke down the image, and turned to the
service of her private wantonness that gold which had been
devoted to public idolatry. Little thought she of practicing
unchastity, that she might the easier satisfy her greed,
this woman so unworthy to be the consort of a god; but what
should I here add, save that such a godhead was worthy of
such a wife? So great was the error that of old befooled the
minds of men. Thus Odin, wounded by the double trespass of
his wife, resented the outrage to his image as keenly as
that to his bed; and, ruffled by these two stinging
dishonours, took to an exile overflowing with noble shame,
imagining so to wipe off the slur of his ignominy.
When he had
retired, one Mit-othin, who was famous for his juggling
tricks, was likewise quickened, as though by inspiration
from on high, to seize the opportunity of feigning to be a
god; and, wrapping the minds of the barbarians in fresh
darkness, he led them by the renown of his jugglings to pay
holy observance to his name. He said that the wrath of the
gods could never be appeased nor the outrage to their deity
expiated by mixed and indiscriminate sacrifices, and
therefore forbade that prayers for this end should be put up
without distinction, appointing to each of those above his
especial drink-offering. But when Odin was returning, he
cast away all help of jugglings, went to Finland to hide
himself, and was there attacked and slain by the
inhabitants. Even in his death his abominations were made
manifest, for those who came nigh his barrow were cut off by
a kind of sudden death; and after his end, he spread such
pestilence that he seemed almost to leave a filthier record
in his death than in his life: it was as though he would
extort from the guilty a punishment for his slaughter. The
inhabitants, being in this trouble, took the body out of the
mound, beheaded it, and impaled it through the breast with a
sharp stake; and herein that people found relief.
The death of Odin's
wife revived the ancient splendour of his name, and seemed
to wipe out the disgrace upon his deity; so, returning from
exile, he forced all those, who had used his absence to
assume the honours of divine rank, to resign them as
usurped; and the gangs of sorcerers that had arisen he
scattered like a darkness before the advancing glory of his
godhead. And he forced them by his power not only to lay
down their divinity, but further to quit the country,
deeming that they, who tried to foist themselves so
iniquitously into the skies, ought to be outcasts from the
earth.
Meanwhile Asmund,
the son of Swipdag, fought with Hadding to avenge his
father. And when he heard that Henry his son, his love for
whom he set even before his own life, had fallen fighting
valiantly, his soul longed for death, and loathed the light
of day, and made a song in a strain like this:
"What brave hath
dared put on my armour? The sheen of the helmet serves not
him who tottereth, nor doth the breastplate fitly shelter
him that is sore spent. Our son is slain, let us riot in
battle; my eager love for him driveth me to my death, that I
may not be left outliving my dear child. In each hand I am
fain to grasp the sword; now without shield let us ply our
warfare bare- breasted, with flashing blades. Let the rumour
of our rage beacon forth: boldly let us grind to powder the
column of the foe; nor let the battle be long and chafe us;
nor let our onset be shattered in rout and be still."
When he had said
this, he gripped his hilt with both hands, and, fearless of
peril, swung his shield upon his back and slew many. Hadding
therefore called on the powers with which he was allied to
protect him, and on a sudden Wagnhofde rode up to fight on
his side. And when Asmund saw his crooked sword, he cried
out, and broke into the following strain:
"Why fightest thou
with curved sword? The short sword shall prove thy doom, the
javelin shall be flung and bring forth death. Thou shouldst
conquer thy foe by thy hand, but thou trustest that he can
be rent by spells; thou trustest more in words than rigour,
and puttest thy strength in thy great resource. Why dost
thus beat me back with thy shield, threatening with thy bold
lance, when thou art so covered with wretched crimes and
spotted all over? Thus hath the brand of shame bestained
thee, rotting in sin, lubber-lipped."
While he thus
clamoured, Hadding, flinging his spear by the thong, pierced
him through. But Asmund lacked not comfort even for his
death; for while his life flickered in the socket he wounded
the foot of his slayer, and by this short instant of revenge
he memorized his fall, punishing the other with an incurable
limp. Thus crippling of a limb befell one of them and loss
of life the other. Asmund's body was buried in solemn state
at Upsala and attended with royal obsequies. His wife
Gunnhild, loth to outlive him, cut off her own life with the
sword, choosing rather to follow her lord in death than to
forsake him by living. Her friends, in consigning her body
to burial, laid her with her husband's dust, thinking her
worthy to share the mound of the man, her love for whom she
had set above life. So there lies Gunnhild, clasping her
lord somewhat more beautifully in the tomb than the had ever
done in the bed.
After this Hadding,
now triumphant, wasted Sweden. But Asmund's son, named Uffe,
shrinking from a conflict, transported his army into
Denmark, thinking it better to assail the house of his enemy
than to guard his own, and deeming it a timely method of
repelling his wrongs to retaliate upon his foe what he was
suffering at his hands. Thus the Danes had to return and
defend their own, preferring the safety of their land to
lordship of a foreign realm; and Uffe went back to his own
country, now rid of an enemy's arms.
Hadding, on
returning from the Swedish war, perceived that his treasury,
wherein he was wont to store the wealth he had gotten by the
spoils of war, had been forced and robbed, and straightway
hanged its keeper Glumer, proclaiming by a crafty device,
that, if any of the culprits brought about the recovery of
the stolen goods, he should have the same post of honour as
Glumer had filled. Upon this promise, one of the guilty men
became more zealous to reap the bounty than to hide his
crime, and had the money brought back to the king. His
confederates fancied he had been received into the king's
closest friendship, and believed that the honours paid him
were as real as they were lavish; and therefore they also,
hoping to be as well rewarded, brought back their moneys and
avowed their guilt. Their confession was received at first
with promotion and favours, and soon visited with
punishment, thus bequeathing a signal lesson against being
too confiding. I should judge that men, whose foolish
blabbing brought them to destruction, when wholesome silence
could have ensured their safety, well deserved to atone upon
the gallows for their breach of reticence.
After this Hadding
passed the whole winter season in the utmost preparation for
the renewal of the war. When the frosts had been melted by
the springtime sun, he went back to Sweden and there spent
five years in warfare. By dint of this prolonged expedition,
his soldiers, having consumed all their provision, were
reduced almost to the extremity of emaciation, and began to
assuage their hunger with mushrooms from the wood. At last,
under stress of extreme necessity, they devoured their
horses, and finally satisfied themselves with the carcases
of dogs. Worse still, they did not scruple to feed upon
human limbs. So, when the Danes were brought unto the most
desperate straits, there sounded in the camp, in the first
sleep of the night, and no man uttering it, the following
song:
"With foul augury
have ye left the abode of your country, thinking to harry
these fields in War. What idle notion mocks your minds? What
blind self-confidence has seized your senses, that ye think
this soil can thus be won. The might of Sweden cannot yield
or quail before the War of the stranger; but the whole of
your column shall melt away when it begins to assault our
people in War. For when flight has broken up the furious
onset, and the straggling part of the fighters wavers, then
to those who prevail in the War is given free scope to slay
those who turn their backs, and they have earned power to
smite the harder when fate drives the renewer of the war
headlong. Nor let him whom cowardice deters aim the spears."
This prophecy was
accomplished on the morrow's dawn by a great slaughter of
the Danes. On the next night the warriors of Sweden heard an
utterance like this, none knowing who spake it:
"Why doth Uffe thus
defy me with grievous rebellion? He shall pay the utmost
penalty. For he shall he buried and transpierced under
showers of lances, and shall fall lifeless in atonement for
his insolent attempt. Nor shall the guilt of his wanton
rancour be unpunished; and, as I forebode, as soon as he
joins battle and fights, the points shall fasten in his
limbs and strike his body everywhere, and his raw gaping
wounds no bandage shall bind up; nor shall any remedy heal
over thy wide gashes."
On that same night
the armies fought; when two hairless old men, of appearance
fouler than human, and displaying their horrid baldness in
the twinkling starlight, divided their monstrous efforts
with opposing ardour, one of them being zealous on the
Danish side, and the other as fervent for the Swedes.
Hadding was conquered and fled to Helsingland, where, while
washing in the cold sea-water his body which was scorched
with heat, he attacked and cut down with many blows a beast
of unknown kind, and having killed it had it carried into
camp. As he was exulting in this deed a woman met him and
addressed him in these words:
"Whether thou tread
the fields afoot, or spread canvas overseas, thou shalt
suffer the hate of the gods, and through all the world shalt
behold the elements oppose thy purposes. Afield thou shalt
fall, on sea thou shalt be tossed, an eternal tempest shall
attend the steps of thy wandering, nor shall frost-bind ever
quit thy sails; nor shall thy roof-tree roof thee, but if
thou seekest it, it shall fall smitten by the hurricane; thy
herd shall perish of bitter chill. All things shall be
tainted, and shall lament that thy lot is there. Thou shalt
be shunned like a pestilent tetter, nor shall any plague be
fouler than thou. Such chastisement doth the power of heaven
mete out to thee, for truly thy sacrilegious hands have
slain one of the dweller's above, disguised in a shape that
was not his: thus here art thou, the slayer of a benignant
god! But when the sea receives thee, the wrath of the prison
of Eolus shall be loosed upon thy head. The West and the
furious North, the South wind shall beat thee down, shall
league and send forth their blasts in rivalry; until with
better prayers thou hast melted the sternness of heaven, and
hast lifted with appeasement the punishment thou hast
earned."
So, when Hadding
went back, he suffered all things after this one fashion,
and his coming brought disquiet upon all peaceful places.
For when he was at sea a mighty storm arose and destroyed
his fleet in a great tempest: and when, a shipwrecked man,
he sought entertainment, he found a sudden downfall of that
house. Nor was there any cure for his trouble, ere he atoned
by sacrifice for his crime, and was able to return into
favour with heaven. For, in order to appease the deities, he
sacrificed dusky victims to the god Frey. This manner of
propitiation by sacrifice he repeated as an annual feast,
and left posterity to follow. This rite the Swedes call
Froblod (the sacrifice or feast of Frey).
Hadding chanced to
hear that a certain giant had taken in troth Ragnhild,
daughter of Hakon, King of the Nitherians; and, loathing so
ignominious a state of affairs, and utterly abominating the
destined union, he forestalled the marriage by noble daring.
For he went to Norway and overcame by arms him that was so
foul, a lover for a princess. For he thought so much more of
valour than of ease, that, though he was free to enjoy all
the pleasures of a king, he accounted it sweeter than any
delight to repel the wrongs done, not only to himself, but
to others. The maiden, not knowing him, ministered with
healing tendance to the man that had done her kindness and
was bruised with many wounds. And in order that lapse of
time might not make her forget him, she shut up a ring in
his wound, and thus left a mark on his leg. Afterwards her
father granted her freedom to choose her own husband; so
when the young men were assembled at banquet, she went along
them and felt their bodies carefully, searching for the
tokens she had stored up long ago. All the rest she
rejected, but Hadding she discovered by the sign of the
secret ring; then she embraced him, and gave herself to be
the wife of him who had not suffered a giant to win her in
marriage.
While Hadding was
sojourning with her a marvellous portent befell him. While
he was at supper, a woman bearing hemlocks was seen to raise
her head beside the brazier, and, stretching out the lap of
her robe, seemed to ask, "in what part of the world such
fresh herbs had grown in winter?" The king desired to know;
and, wrapping him in her mantle, she drew him with her
underground, and vanished. I take it that the nether gods
purposed that he should pay a visit in the flesh to the
regions whither he must go when he died. So they first
pierced through a certain dark misty cloud, and then
advancing along a path that was worn away with long
thoroughfaring, they beheld certain men wearing rich robes,
and nobles clad in purple; these passed, they at last
approached sunny regions which produced the herbs the woman
had brought away. Going further, they came on a swift and
tumbling river of leaden waters, whirling down on its rapid
current divers sorts of missiles, and likewise made passable
by a bridge. When they had crossed this, they beheld two
armies encountering one another with might and main. And
when Hadding inquired of the woman about their estate:
"These," she said, "are they who, having been slain by the
sword, declare the manner of their death by a continual
rehearsal, and enact the deeds of their past life in a
living spectacle." Then a wall hard to approach and to climb
blocked their further advance. The woman tried to leap it,
but in vain, being unable to do so even with her slender
wrinkled body; then she wrung off the head of a cock which
she chanced to be taking down with her, and flung it beyond
the barrier of the walls; and forthwith the bird came to
life again, and testified by a loud crow to recovery of its
breathing. Then Hadding turned back and began to make
homewards with his wife; some rovers bore down on him, but
by swift sailing he baffled their snares; for though it was
almost the same wind that helped both, they were behind him
as he clove the billows, and, as they had only just as much
sail, could not overtake him.
Meantime Uffe, who
had a marvellously fair daughter, decreed that the man who
slew Hadding should have her. This sorely tempted one
Thuning, who got together a band of men of Perm
(Byarmenses), being fain so to win the desired advancement.
Hadding was going to fall upon him, but while he was passing
Norway in his fleet he saw upon the beach an old man signing
to him, with many wavings of his mantle, to put into shore.
His companions opposed it, and declared that it would be a
ruinous diversion from their journey; but he took the man on
board, and was instructed by him how to order his army. For
this man, in arranging the system of the columns, used to
take special care that the front row consisted of two, the
second of four, while the third increased and was made up to
eight, and likewise each row was double that in front of it.
Also the old man bade the wings of the slingers go back to
the extremity of the line, and put with them the ranks of
the archers. So when the squadrons were arranged in the
wedge, he stood himself behind the warriors, and from the
wallet which was slung round his neck drew an arbalist. This
seemed small at first, but soon projected with more
prolonged tip, and accommodated ten arrows to its string at
once, which were shot all at once at the enemy in a brisk
volley, and inflicted as many wounds. Then the men of Perm,
quitting arms for cunning, by their spells loosed the sky in
clouds of rain, and melted the joyous visage of the air in
dismal drenching showers. But the old man, on the other
hand, drove back with a cloud the heavy mass of storm which
had arisen, and checked the dripping rain by this barrier of
mist. Thus Hadding prevailed. But the old man, when he
parted from him, foretold that the death whereby he would
perish would be inflicted, not by the might of an enemy, but
by his own hand. Also he forbade him to prefer obscure wars
to such as were glorious, and border wars to those remote.
Hadding, after
leaving him, was bidden by Uffe to Upsala on pretence of a
interview; but lost all his escort by treachery, and made
his escape sheltered by the night. For when the Danes sought
to leave the house into which they had been gathered on
pretext of a banquet, they found one awaiting them, who
mowed off the head of each of them with his sword as it was
thrust out of the door. For this wrongful act Hadding
retaliated and slew Uffe; but put away his hatred and
consigned his body to a sepulchre of notable handiwork, thus
avowing the greatness of his foe by his pains to beautify
his tomb, and decking in death with costly distinctions the
man whom he used to pursue in his life with hot enmity.
Then, to win the hearts of the people he had subdued, he
appointed Hunding, the brother of Uffe, over the realm, that
the sovereignty might seem to be maintained in the house of
Asmund, and not to have passed into the hand of a stranger.
Thus his enemy was
now removed, and he passed several years without any
stirring events and in utter disuse of arms; but at last he
pleaded the long while he had been tilling the earth, and
the immoderate time he had forborne from exploits on the
seas; and seeming to think war a merrier thing than peace,
he began to upbraid himself with slothfulness in a strain
like this:
"Why loiter I thus
in darksome hiding, in the folds of rugged hills, nor follow
seafaring as of old? The continual howling of the band of
wolves, and the plaintive cry of harmful beasts that rises
to heaven, and the fierce impatient lions, all rob my eyes
of sleep. Dreary are the ridges and the desolation to hearts
that trusted to do wilder work. The stark rocks and the
rugged lie of the ground bar the way to spirits who are wont
to love the sea. It were better service to sound the firths
with the oars, to revel in plundered wares, to pursue the
gold of others for my coffer, to gloat over sea-gotten
gains, than to dwell in rough lands and winding woodlands
and barren glades."
Then his wife,
loving a life in the country, and weary of the marin harmony
of the sea-birds, declared how great joy she found in
frequenting the woodlands, in the following strain:
"The shrill bird
vexes me as I tarry by the shore, and with its chattering
rouses me when I cannot sleep. Wherefore the noisy sweep of
its boisterous rush takes gentle rest from my sleeping eye,
nor doth the loud-chattering sea-mew suffer me to rest in
the night, forcing its wearisome tale into my dainty ears;
nor when I would lie down doth it suffer me to be refreshed,
clamouring with doleful modulation of its ill-boding voice.
Safer and sweeter do I deem the enjoyment of the woods. How
are the fruits of rest plucked less by day or night than by
tarrying tossed on the shifting sea?"
At this time one
Toste emerged, from the obscure spot of Jutland where he was
born, into bloody notoriety. For by all manner of wanton
attacks upon the common people he spread wide the fame of
his cruelty, and gained so universal a repute for rancour,
that he was branded with the name of the Wicked. Nor did he
even refrain from wrongdoing to foreigners, but, after
foully harrying his own land, went on to assault Saxony. The
Saxon general Syfrid, when his men were hard put to it in
the battle, entreated peace. Toste declared that he should
have what he asked, but only if he would promise to become
his ally in a war against Hadding. Syfrid demurred, dreading
to fulfill the condition, but by sharp menaces Toste induced
him to promise what he asked. For threats can sometimes gain
a request which softdealing cannot compass. Hadding was
conquered by this man in an affair by land; but in the midst
of his flight he came on his enemy's fleet, and made it
unseaworthy by boring the sides; then he got a skiff and
steered it out to sea. Toste thought he was slain, but
though he sought long among the indiscriminate heaps of
dead, could not find him, and came back to his fleet; when
he saw from afar off a light boat tossing on the ocean
billows. Putting out some vessels, he resolved to give it
chase, but was brought back by peril of shipwreck, and only
just reached the shore. Then he quickly took some sound
craft, and accomplished the journey which he had before
begun. Hadding, seeing he was caught, proceeded to ask his
companion whether he was a skilled and practised swimmer;
and when the other said he was not, Hadding despairing of
flight, deliberately turned the vessel over and held on
inside to its hollow, thus making his pursuers think him
dead. Then he attacked Toste, who, careless and unaware, was
greedily watching over the remnants of his spoil; cut down
his army, forced him to quit his plunder, and avenged his
own rout by that of Toste.
But Toste lacked
not heart to avenge himself. For, not having store enough in
his own land to recruit his forces -- so heavy was the blow
he had received -- he went to Britain, calling himself an
ambassador. Upon his outward voyage, for sheer wantonness,
he got his crew together to play dice, and when a wrangle
arose from the throwing of the cubes, he taught them to wind
it up with a fatal affray. And so, by means of this peaceful
sport, he spread the spirit of strife through the whole
ship, and the jest gave place to quarrelling, which
engendered bloody combat. Also, fain to get some gain out of
the misfortunes of others, he seized the moneys of the
slain, and attached to him a certain rover then famous,
named Koll; and a little after returned in his company to
his own land, where he was challenged and slain by Hadding,
who preferred to hazard his own fortune rather than that of
his soldiers. For generals of antique valour were loth to
accomplish by general massacre what could be decided by the
lot of a few.
After these deeds
the figure of Hadding's dead wife appeared before him in his
sleep, and sang thus:
"A monster is born
to thee that shall tame the rage of wild beasts, and crush
with fierce mouth the fleet wolves."
Then she added a
little: "Take thou heed; from thee hath issued a bird of
harm, in choler a wild screech-owl, in tongue a tuneful
swan."
On the morrow the
king, when he had shaken off slumber, told the vision to a
man skilled in interpretations, who explained the wolf to
denote a son that would be truculent and the word swan as
signifying a daughter; and foretold that the son would be
deadly to enemies and the daughter treacherous to her
father. The result answered to the prophecy. Hadding's
daughter, Ulfhild, who was wife to a certain private person
called Guthorm, was moved either by anger at her match, or
with aspirations to glory, and throwing aside all heed of
daughterly love, tempted her husband to slay her father;
declaring that she preferred the name of queen to that of
princess. I have resolved to set forth the manner of her
exhortation almost in the words in which she uttered it;
they were nearly these:
"Miserable am I,
whose nobleness is shadowed by an unequal yoke! Hapless am
I, to whose pedigree is bound the lowliness of a peasant!
Luckless issue of a king, to whom a common man is equal by
law of marriage! Pitiable daughter of a prince, whose
comeliness her spiritless father hath made over to base and
contemptible embraces! Unhappy child of thy mother, with thy
happiness marred by consorting with this bed! thy purity is
handled by the impurity of a peasant, thy nobility is bowed
down by ignoble commonness, thy high birth is impaired by
the estate of thy husband! But thou, if any pith be in thee,
if valour reign in thy soul at all, if thou deem thyself fit
husband for a king's daughter, wrest the sceptre from her
father, retrieve thy lineage by thy valour, balance with
courage thy lack of ancestry, requite by bravery thy
detriment of blood. Power won by daring is more prosperous
than that won by inheritance. Boldness climbs to the top
better than inheritance, and worth wins power better than
birth. Moreover, it is no shame to overthrow old age, which
of its own weight sinks and totters to its fall. It shall be
enough for my father to have borne the sceptre for so long;
let the dotard's power fall to thee; if it elude thee, it
will pass to another. Whatsoever rests on old age is near
its fall. Think that his reign has been long enough, and be
it thine, though late in the day, to be first. Further, I
would rather have my husband than my father king -- would
rather be ranked a king's wife than daughter. It is better
to embrace a monarch in one's home, than to give him homage
from afar; it is nobler to be a king's bride than his
courtier. Thou, too, must surely prefer thyself to thy
wife's father for bearing the sceptre; for nature has made
each one nearest to himself. If there be a will for the
deed, a way will open; there is nothing but yields to the
wit of man. The feast must be kept, the banquet decked, the
preparations looked to, and my father bidden. The path to
treachery shall be smoothed by a pretence of friendship, for
nothing cloaks a snare better than the name of kindred. Also
his soddenness shall open a short way to his slaughter; for
when the king shall be intent upon the dressing of his hair,
and his hand is upon his beard and his mind upon stories;
when he has parted his knotted locks, either with hairpin or
disentangling comb, then let him feel the touch of the steel
in his flesh. Busy men commonly devise little precaution.
Let thy hand draw near to punish all his sins. It is a
righteous deed to put forth thy hand to avenge the
wretched!"
Thus Ulfhild
importuned, and her husband was overcome by her promptings,
and promised his help to the treachery. But meantime Hadding
was warned in a dream to beware of his son-in-law's guile.
He went to the feast, which his daughter had made ready for
him with a show of love, and posted an armed guard hard by
to use against the treachery when need was. As he ate, the
henchman who was employed to do the deed of guile silently
awaited a fitting moment for his crime, his dagger hid under
his robe. The king, remarking him, blew on the trumpet a
signal to the soldiers who were stationed near; they
straightway brought aid, and he made the guile recoil on its
deviser.
Meanwhile Hunding,
King of the Swedes, heard false tidings that Hadding was
dead, and resolved to greet them with obsequies. So he
gathered his nobles together, and filled a jar of
extraordinary size with ale, and had this set in the midst
of the feasters for their delight, and, to omit no mark of
solemnity, himself assumed a servant's part, not hesitating
to play the cupbearer. And while he was passing through the
palace in fulfilment of his office, he stumbled and fell
into the jar, and, being choked by the liquor, gave up the
ghost; thus atoning either to Orcus, whom he was appeasing
by a baseless performance of the rites, or to Hadding, about
whose death he had spoken falsely. Hadding, when he heard
this, wished to pay like thanks to his worshipper, and, not
enduring to survive his death, hanged himself in sight of
the whole people.
BOOK TWO
HADDING was
succeeded by FRODE, his son, whose fortunes were many and
changeful. When he had passed the years of a stripling, he
displayed the fulness of a warrior's prowess; and being loth
that this should be spoilt by slothfulness, he sequestered
his mind from delights and perseveringly constrained it to
arms. Warfare having drained his father's treasury, he
lacked a stock of pay to maintain his troops, and cast about
diligently for the supplies that he required; and while thus
employed, a man of the country met him and roused his hopes
by the following strain:
"Not far off is an
island rising in delicate slopes, hiding treasure in its
hills and ware of its rich booty. Here a noble pile is kept
by the occupant of the mount, who is a snake wreathed in
coils, doubled in many a fold, and with tail drawn out in
winding whorls, shaking his manifold spirals and shedding
venom. If thou wouldst conquer him, thou must use thy shield
and stretch thereon bulls' hides, and cover thy body with
the skins of kine, nor let thy limbs lie bare to the sharp
poison; his slaver burns up what it bespatters. Though the
three-forked tongue flicker and leap out of the gaping
mouth, and with awful yawn menace ghastly wounds remember to
keep the dauntless temper of thy mind; nor let the point of
the jagged tooth trouble thee, nor the starkness of the
beast, nor the venom spat from the swift throat. Though the
force of his scales spurn thy spears, yet know there is a
place under his lowest belly whither thou mayst plunge the
blade; aim at this with thy sword, and thou shalt probe the
snake to his centre. Thence go fearless up to the hill,
drive the mattock, dig and ransack the holes; soon fill thy
pouch with treasure, and bring back to the shore thy craft
laden."
Frode believed, and
crossed alone to the island, loth to attack the beast with
any stronger escort than that wherewith it was the custom
for champions to attack. When it had drunk water and was
repairing to its cave, its rough and sharp hide spurned the
blow of Frode's steel. Also the darts that he flung against
it rebounded idly, foiling the effort of the thrower. But
when the hard back yielded not a whit, he noted the belly
heedfully, and its softness gave entrance to the steel. The
beast tried to retaliate by biting, but only struck the
sharp point of its mouth upon the shield. Then it shot out
its flickering tongue again and again, and gasped away life
and venom together.
The money which the
King found made him rich; and with this supply he approached
in his fleet the region of the Kurlanders, whose king Dorn,
dreading a perilous war, is said to have made a speech of
the following kind to his soldiers:
"Nobles! Our enemy
is a foreigner, begirt with the arms and the wealth of
almost all the West; let us, by endeavouring to defer the
battle for our profit, make him a prey to famine, which is
all inward malady; and he will find it very hard to conquer
a peril among his own people. It is easy to oppose the
starving. Hunger will be a better weapon against our foe
than arms; famine will be the sharpest lance we shall hurl
at him. For lack of food nourishes the pestilence that eats
away men's strength, and lack of victual undermines store of
weapons. Let this whirl the spears while we sit still; let
this take up the prerogative and the duty of fighting.
Unimperilled, we shall be able to imperil others; we can
drain their blood and lose no drop of ours. One may defeat
an enemy by inaction. Who would not rather fight safely than
at a loss? Who would strive to suffer chastisement when he
may contend unhurt? Our success in arms will be more
prosperous if hunger joins battle first. Let hunger captain
us, and so let us take the first chance of conflict. Let it
decide the day in our stead, and let our camp remain free
from the stir of war; if hunger retreat beaten, we must
break off idleness. He who is fresh easily overpowers him
who is shaken with languor. The hand that is flaccid and
withered will come fainter to the battle. He whom any
hardship has first wearied, will bring slacker hands to the
steel. When he that is wasted with sickness engages with the
sturdy, the victory hastens. Thus, undamaged ourselves, we
shall be able to deal damage to others."
Having said this,
he wasted all the places which he saw would be hard to
protect, distrusting his power to guard them, and he so far
forestalled the ruthlessness of the foe in ravaging his own
land, that he left nothing untouched which could be seized
by those who came after. Then he shut up the greater part of
his forces in a town of undoubted strength, and suffered the
enemy to blockade him. Frode, distrusting his power of
attacking this town, commanded several trenches of unwonted
depth to be made within the camp, and the earth to be
secretly carried out in baskets and cast quietly into the
river bordering the walls. Then he had a mass of turf put
over the trenches to hide the trap: wishing to cut off the
unwary enemy by tumbling them down headlong, and thinking
that they would be overwhelmed unawares by the slip of the
subsiding earth. Then he feigned a panic, and proceeded to
forsake the camp for a short while. The townsmen fell upon
it, missed their footing everywhere, rolled forward into the
pits, and were massacred by him under a shower of spears.
Thence he travelled
and fell in with Trannon, the monarch of the Ruthenians.
Desiring to spy out the strength of his navy, he made a
number of pegs out of sticks, and loaded a skiff with them;
and in this he approached the enemy's fleet by night, and
bored the hulls of the vessels with an auger. And to save
them from a sudden influx of the waves, he plugged up the
open holes with the pegs he had before provided, and by
these pieces of wood he made good the damage done by the
auger. But when he thought there were enough holes to drown
the fleet, he took out the plugs, thus giving instant access
to the waters, and then made haste to surround the enemy's
fleet with his own. The Ruthenians were beset with a double
peril, and wavered whether they should first withstand waves
or weapons. Fighting to save their ships from the foe, they
were shipwrecked. Within, the peril was more terrible than
without: within, they fell back before the waves, while
drawing the sword on those without. For the unhappy men were
assaulted by two dangers at once; it was doubtful whether
the swiftest way of safety was to swim or to battle to the
end; and the fray was broken off at its hottest by a fresh
cause of doom. Two forms of death advanced in a single
onset; two paths of destruction offered united peril: it was
hard to say whether the sword or the sea hurt them more.
While one man was beating off the swords, the waters stole
up silently and took him. Contrariwise, another was
struggling with the waves, when the steel came up and
encompassed him. The flowing waters were befouled with the
gory spray. Thus the Ruthenians were conquered, and Frode
made his way back home.
Finding that some
envoys, whom he had sent into Russia to levy tribute, had
been horribly murdered through the treachery of the
inhabitants, Frode was stung by the double wrong and
besieged closely their town Rotel. Loth that the intervening
river should delay his capture of the town, he divided the
entire mass of the waters by making new and different
streams, thus changing what had been a channel of unknown
depth into passable fords; not ceasing till the speed of the
eddy, slackened by the division of its outlet, rolled its
waves onward in fainter current, and winding along its
slender reaches, slowly thinned and dwindled into a shallow.
Thus he prevailed over the river; and the town, which lacked
natural defences, he overthrew, his soldiers breaking in
without resistance. This done, he took his army to the city
of Paltisca. Thinking no force could overcome it, he
exchanged war for guile. He went into a dark and unknown
hiding- place, only a very few being in the secret, and
ordered a report of his death to be spread abroad, so as to
inspire the enemy with less fear; his obsequies being also
held, and a barrow raised, to give the tale credit. Even the
soldiers bewailed his supposed death with a mourning which
was in the secret of the trick. This rumour led Vespasins,
the king of the city, to show so faint and feeble a defence,
as though the victory was already his, that the enemy got a
chance of breaking in, and slew him as he sported at his
ease.
Frode, when he had
taken this town, aspired to the Empire of the East, and
attacked the city of Handwan. This king, warned by Hadding's
having once fired his town, accordingly cleared the tame
birds out of all his houses, to save himself from the peril
of like punishment. But Frode was not at a loss for new
trickery. He exchanged garments with a serving-maid, and
feigned himself to be a maiden skilled in fighting; and
having thus laid aside the garb of man and imitated that of
woman, he went to the town, calling himself a deserter. Here
he reconnoitred everything narrowly, and on the next day
sent out an attendant with orders that the army should be up
at the walls, promising that he would see to it that the
gates were opened. Thus the sentries were eluded and the
city despoiled while it was buried in sleep; so that it paid
for its heedlessness with destruction, and was more pitiable
for its own sloth than by reason of the valour of the foe.
For in warfare nought is found to be more ruinous than that
a man, made foolhardy by ease, should neglect and slacken
his affairs and doze in arrogant self-confidence.
Handwan, seeing
that the fortunes of his country were lost and overthrown,
put all his royal wealth on shipboard and drowned it in the
sea, so as to enrich the waves rather than his enemy. Yet it
had been better to forestall the goodwill of his adversaries
with gifts of money than to begrudge the profit of it to the
service of mankind. After this, when Frode sent ambassadors
to ask for the hand of his daughter, he answered, that he
must take heed not to be spoiled by his thriving fortunes,
or to turn his triumph into haughtiness; but let him rather
bethink him to spare the conquered, and in this their abject
estate to respect their former bright condition; let him
learn to honour their past fortune in their present pitiable
lot. Therefore, said Handwan, he must mind that he did not
rob of his empire the man with whom he sought alliance, nor
bespatter her with the filth of ignobleness whom he desired
to honour with marriage: else he would tarnish the honour of
the union with covetousness. The courtliness of this saying
not only won him his conqueror for son-in-law, but saved the
freedom of his realm.
Meantime Thorhild,
wife of Hunding, King of the Swedes, possessed with a
boundless hatred for her stepsons Ragnar and Thorwald, and
fain to entangle them in divers perils, at last made them
the king's shepherds. But Swanhwid, daughter of Hadding,
wished to arrest by woman's wit the ruin of natures so
noble; and taking her sisters to serve as retinue, journeyed
to Sweden. Seeing the said youths beset with sundry
prodigies while busy watching at night over their flocks,
she forbade her sisters, who desired to dismount, in a poem
of the following strain:
"Monsters I behold
taking swift leaps and flinging themselves over the night
places. The demon is at war, and the unholy throng, devoted
to the mischievous fray, battles in the mid- thoroughfare.
Prodigies of aspect grim to behold pass by, and suffer no
mortal to enter this country. The ranks galloping in
headlong career through the void bid us stay our advance in
this spot; they warn us to turn our rein and hold off from
the accursed fields, they forbid us to approach the country
beyond. A scowling horde of ghosts draws near, and scurries
furiously through the wind, bellowing drearily to the stars.
Fauns join Satyrs, and the throng of Pans mingles with the
Spectres and battles with fierce visage. The Swart ones meet
the Woodland Spirits, and the pestilent phantoms strive to
share the path with the Witches. Furies poise themselves on
the leap, and on them huddle the Phantoms, whom Foreboder
(Fantua) joined to the Flatnoses (Satyrs), jostles. The path
that the footfarer must tread brims with horror. It were
safer to burden the back of the tall horse."
Thereon Ragnar
declared that he was a slave of the king, and gave as reason
of his departure so far from home that, when he had been
banished to the country on his shepherd's business, he had
lost the flock of which he had charge, and despairing to
recover it, had chosen rather to forbear from returning than
to incur punishment. Also, loth to say nothing about the
estate of his brother, he further spoke the following poem:
"Think us men, not
monsters; we are slaves who drove our lingering flocks for
pasture through the country. But while we took our pastime
in gentle sports, our flock chanced to stray and went into
far-off fields. And when our hope of finding them, our long
quest failed, trouble came upon the mind of the wretched
culprits. And when sure tracks of our kine were nowhere to
be seen, dismal panic filled our guilty hearts. That is why,
dreading the penal stripe of the rod, we thought it doleful
to return to our own roof. We supposed it safer to hold
aloof from the familiar hearth than to bear the hand of
punishment. Thus we are fain to put off the punishment; we
loathe going back and our wish is to lie hid here and escape
our master's eye. This will aid us to elude the avenger of
his neglected flock; and this is the one way of escape that
remains safe for us."
Then Swanhwid gazed
intently, and surveying his features, which were very
comely, admired them ardently, and said:
"The radiant
flashing of thine eyes is eloquent that thou art of kingly
and not of servile stock. Beauty announces blood, and
loveliness of soul glitters in the flash of the eyes. A keen
glance betokens lordly birth, and it is plain that he whom
fairness, that sure sign of nobleness, commends, is of no
mean station. The outward alertness of thine eyes signifies
a spirit of radiance within. Face vouches for race; and the
lustre of forefathers is beheld in the brightness of the
countenance. For an aspect so benign and noble could never
have issued from base parentage. The grace of thy blood
makes thy brow mantle with a kindred grace, and the estate
of thy birth is reflected in the mirror of thy countenance.
It is no obscure craftsman, therefore, that has finished the
portrait of so choice a chasing. Now therefore turn aside
with all speed, seek constantly to depart out of the road,
shun encounters with monsters, lest ye yield your most
gracious bodies to be the prey and pasture of the vilest
hordes."
But Ragnar was
seized with great shame for his unsightly attire, which he
thought was the only possible device to disguise his birth.
So he rejoined, "That slaves were not always found to lack
manhood; that a strong hand was often hidden under squalid
raiment, and sometimes a stout arm was muffled trader a
dusky cloak; thus the fault of nature was retrieved by
valour, and deficiency in race requited by nobleness of
spirit. He therefore feared the might of no supernatural
prowess, save of the god Thor only, to the greatness of
whose force nothing human or divine could fitly be compared.
The hearts of men ought not to be terrified at phantoms,
which were only awful from their ghastly foulness, and whose
semblances, marked by counterfeit ghostliness, were wont for
a moment to borrow materiality from the fluent air. Swanhwid
therefore erred in trying, womanlike, to sap the firm
strength of men, and to melt in unmanly panic that might
which knew not defeat."
Swanhwid marvelled
at the young man's steadfastness, and cast off the cloud of
mist which overshadowed her, dispelling the darkness which
shrouded her face, till it was clear and cloudless. Then,
promising that she would give him a sword fitted for diver's
kinds of battle, she revealed the marvellous maiden beauty
of her lustrous limbs. Thus was the youth kindled, and she
plighted her troth with him, and proffering the sword, she
thus began:
"King, in this
sword, which shall expose the monsters to thy blows, take
the first gift of thy betrothed. Show thyself duly deserving
hereof; let hand rival sword, and aspire to add lustre to
its weapon. Let the might of steel strengthen the
defenceless point of thy wit, and let spirit know how to
work with hand. Let the bearer match the burden: and that
thy deed may sort with thy blade, let equal weight in each
be thine. What avails the javelin when the breast is weak
and faint, and the quivering hands have dropped the lance?
Let steel join soul, and be both the body's armour! Let the
right hand be linked with its hilt in alliance. These fight
famous battles, because they always keep more force when
together; but less when parted. Therefore if it be joy to
thee to win fame by the palm of war, pursue with daring
whatsoever is hard pressed by thy hand."
After thus
discoursing long in harmoniously-adjusted strains, she sent
away her retinue, and passed all the night in combat against
the foulest throngs of monsters; and at return of daybreak
she perceived fallen all over the fields diverse shapes of
phantoms, and figures extraordinary to look on; and among
them was seen the semblance of Thorhild herself covered with
wounds. All these she piled in a heap and burnt, kindling a
huge pyre, lest the foul stench of the filthy carcases might
spread in pestilent vapour and hurt those who came nigh with
its taint of corruption. This done, she won the throne of
Sweden for Ragnar, and Ragnar for her husband. And though he
deemed it uncomely to inaugurate his first campaign with a
wedding, yet, moved by gratitude for the preservation of his
safety, he kept his promise.
Meantime one Ubbe,
who had long since wedded Ulfhild the sister of Frode,
trusting in the high birth of his wife, seized the kingdom
of Denmark, which he was managing carelessly as deputy.
Frode was thus forced to quit the wars of the East and
fought a great battle in Sweden with his sister Swanhwid, in
which he was beaten. So he got on board a skiff, and sailed
stealthily in a circuit, seeking some way of boring through
the enemy's fleet. When surprised by his sister and asked
why he was rowing silently and following divers meandering
courses, he cut short her inquiry by a similar question; for
Swanhwid had also, at the same time of the night, taken to
sailing about alone, and was stealthily searching out all
the ways of approach and retreat through devious and
dangerous windings. So she reminded her brother of the
freedom he had given her long since, and went on to ask him
that he should allow her full enjoyment of the husband she
had taken; since, before he started on the Russian war, he
had given her the boon of marrying as she would; and that he
should hold valid after the event what he had himself
allowed to happen. These reasonable entreaties touched
Frode, and he made a peace with Ragnar, and forgave, at his
sister's request, the wrongdoing which Ragnar, seemed to
have begun because of her wantonness. They presented him
with a force equal to that which they had caused him to
lose: a handsome gift in which he rejoiced as compensation
for so ugly a reverse.
Ragnar, entering
Denmark, captured Ubbe, had him brought before him, and
pardoned him, preferring to visit his ill deserts with grace
rather than chastisement; because the man seemed to have
aimed at the crown rather at his wife's instance than of his
own ambition, and to have been the imitator and not the
cause of the wrong. But he took Ulfhild away from him and
forced her to wed his friend Scot, the same man that founded
the Scottish name; esteeming change of wedlock a punishment
for her. As she went away he even escorted her in the royal
chariot, requiting evil with good; for he regarded the
kinship of his sister rather than her disposition, and took
more thought for his own good name than of her iniquity. But
the fair deeds of her brother did not make her obstinate and
wonted hatred slacken a whit; she wore the spirit of her new
husband with her design of slaying Frode and mastering the
sovereignty of the Danes. For whatsoever design the mind has
resolutely conceived, it is slow to quit; nor is a sin that
is long schemed swept away by the stream of years. For the
temper of later life follows the mind of childhood; nor do
the traces easily fade of vices which have been stamped upon
the character in the impressible age. Finding the ears of
her husband deaf, she diverted her treachery from her
brother against her lord, hiring bravoes to cut his throat
while he slept. Scot was told about this by a waiting-woman,
and retired to bed in his cuirass on the night on which he
had heard the deed of murder was to be wrought upon him.
Ulfhild asked him why he had exchanged his wonted ways to
wear the garb of steel; he rejoined that such was just then
his fancy. The agents of the treachery, when they imagined
him in a deep sleep, burst in; but he slipped from his bed
and cut them down. The result was, that he prevented Ulfhild
from weaving plots against her brother, and also left a
warning to others to beware of treachery from their wives.
Meantime the design
occurred to Frode of a campaign against Friesland; he was
desirous to dazzle the eyes of the West with the glory he
had won in conquering the East. He put out to ocean, and his
first contest was with Witthe, a rover of the Frisians; and
in this battle he bade his crews patiently bear the first
brunt of the enemy's charge by merely opposing their
shields, ordering that they should not use their missiles
before they perceived that the shower of the enemy's spears
was utterly silent. This the Frisians hurled as vehemently
as the Danes received it impassively; for Witthe supposed
that the long- suffering of Frode was due to a wish for
peace. High rose the blast of the trumpet, and loud whizzed
the javelins everywhere, till at last the heedless Frisians
had not a single lance remaining, and they were conquered,
overwhelmed by the missiles of the Danes. They fled hugging
the shore, and were cut to pieces amid the circuitous
windings of the canals. Then Frode explored the Rhine in his
fleet, and laid hands on the farthest parts of Germany. Then
he went back to the ocean, and attacked the Frisian fleet,
which had struck on shoals; and thus he crowned shipwreck
with slaughter. Nor was he content with the destruction of
so great an army of his foes, but assailed Britain, defeated
its king, and attacked Melbrik, the Governor of the Scottish
district. Just as he was preparing to fight him, he heard
from a scout that the King of the Britons was at hand, and
could not look to his front and his rear both at once. So he
assembled the soldiers, and ordered that they should abandon
their chariots, fling away all their goods, and scatter
everywhere over the fields the gold which they had about
them; for he declared that their one chance was to squander
their treasure; and that, now they were hemmed in, their
only remaining help was to tempt the enemy from combat to
covetousness. They ought cheerfully to spend on so extreme a
need the spoil they had gotten among foreigners; for the
enemy would drop it as eagerly, when it was once gathered,
as they would snatch it when they first found it; for it
would be to them more burden than profit.
Then Thorkill, who
was a more notable miser and a better orator than them all,
dishelming and leaning on his shield, said:
"O King! Most of us
who rate high what we have bought with our life-blood find
thy bidding hard. We take it ill that we should fling away
what we have won with utmost hazard; and men are loth to
forsake what they have purchased at peril of their lives.
For it is utter madness to spurn away like women what our
manly hearts and hands have earned, and enrich the enemy
beyond their hopes. What is more odious than to anticipate
the fortune of war by despising the booty which is ours,
and, in terror of an evil that may never come, to quit a
good which is present and assured? Shall we scatter our gold
upon the earth, ere we have set eyes upon the Scots? Those
who faint at the thought of warring when they are out for
war, what manner of men are they to be thought in the
battle? Shall we be a derision to our foes, we who were
their terror? Shall we take scorn instead of glory? The
Briton will marvel that he was conquered by men whom he sees
fear is enough to conquer. We struck them before with panic;
shall we be panic-stricken by them? We scorned them when
before us; shall we dread them when they are not here? When
will our bravery win the treasure which our cowardice
rejects? Shall we shirk the fight, in scorn of the money
which we fought to win, and enrich those whom we should
rightly have impoverished? What deed more despicable can we
do than to squander gold on those whom we should smite with
steel? Panic must never rob us of the spoils of valour; and
only war must make us quit what in warfare we have won. Let
us sell our plunder at the price at which we bought it; let
the purchase-money be weighed out in steel. It is better to
die a noble death, than to molder away too much in love with
the light life. In a fleeting instant of time life forsakes
us, but shame pursues us past the grave. Further, if we cast
away this gold, the greater the enemy thinks our fear, the
hotter will be his chase. Besides, whichever the issue of
the day, the gold is not hateful to us. Conquerors, we shall
triumph in the treasure which now we bear; conquered, we
shall leave it to pay our burying."
So spoke the old
man; but the soldiers regarded the advice of their king
rather than of their comrade, and thought more of the former
than of the latter counsel. So each of them eagerly drew his
wealth, whatever he had, from his pouch; they unloaded their
ponies of the various goods they were carrying; and having
thus cleared their money-bags, girded on their arms more
deftly. They went on, and the Britons came up, but broke
away after the plunder which lay spread out before them.
Their king, when he beheld them too greedily busied with
scrambling for the treasure, bade them "take heed not to
weary with a load of riches those hands which were meant for
battle, since they ought to know that a victory must be
culled ere it is counted. Therefore let them scorn the gold
and give chase to the possessors of the gold; let them
admire the lustre, not of lucre, but of conquest;
remembering, that a trophy gave more reward than gain.
Courage was worth more than dross, if they measured aright
the quality of both; for the one furnished outward adorning,
but the other enhanced both outward and inward grace.
Therefore they must keep their eyes far from the sight of
money, and their soul from covetousness, and devote it to
the pursuits of war. Further, they should know that the
plunder had been abandoned by the enemy of set purpose, and
that the gold had been scattered rather to betray them than
to profit them. Moreover, the honest lustre of the silver
was only a bait on the barb of secret guile. It was not
thought to be that they, who had first forced the Britons to
fly, would lightly fly themselves. Besides, nothing was more
shameful than riches which betrayed into captivity the
plunderer whom they were supposed to enrich. For the Danes
thought that the men to whom they pretended to have offered
riches ought to be punished with sword and slaughter. Let
them therefore feel that they were only giving the enemy a
weapon if they seized what he had scattered. For if they
were caught by the look of the treasure that had been
exposed, they must lose, not only that, but any of their own
money that might remain. What could it profit them to gather
what they must straightway disgorge? But if they refuse to
abase themselves before money, they would doubtless abase
the foe. Thus it was better for them to stand erect in
valour than be grovelling in greed; with their souls not
sinking into covetousness, but up and doing for renown. In
the battle they would have to use not gold but swords."
As the king ended,
a British knight, shewing them all his lapful of gold, said:
"O King! From thy
speech can be gathered two feelings; and one of them
witnesses to thy cowardice and the other to thy ill will:
inasmuch as thou forbiddest us the use of the wealth because
of the enemy, and also thinkest it better that we should
serve thee needy than rich. What is more odious than such a
wish? What more senseless than such a counsel? We recognise
these as the treasures of our own homes, and having done so,
shall we falter to pick them up? We were on our way to
regain them by fighting, we were zealous to win them back by
our blood: shall we shun them when they are restored
unasked? Shall we hesitate to claim our own? Which is the
greater coward, he who squanders his winnings, or he who is
fearful to pick up what is squandered? Look how chance has
restored what compulsion took! These are, not spoils from
the enemy, but from ourselves; the Dane took gold from
Britain, he brought none. Beaten and loth we lost it; it
comes back for nothing, and shall we run away from it? Such
a gift of fortune it were a shame to take in an unworthy
spirit. For what were madder than to spurn wealth that is
set openly before us, and to desire it when it is shut up
and kept from us? Shall we squeamishly yield what is set
under our eyes, and clutch at it when it vanishes? Shall we
seek distant and foreign treasure, refraining from what is
made public property? If we disown what is ours, when shall
we despoil the goods of others? No anger of heaven can I
experience which can force me to unload of its lawful burden
the lap which is filled with my father's and my grandsire's
gold. I know the wantonness of the Danes: never would they
have left jars full of wine had not fear forced them to
flee. They would rather have sacrificed their life than
their liquor. This passion we share with them, and herein we
are like them. Grant that their flight is feigned; yet they
will light upon the Scots ere they can come back. This gold
shall never rust in the country, to be trodden underfoot of
swine or brutes: it will better serve the use of men.
Besides, if we plunder the spoil of the army that prevailed
over us, we transfer the luck of the conqueror to ourselves.
For what surer omen of triumph could be got, than to bear
off the booty before the battle, and to capture ere the fray
the camp which the enemy have forsaken? Better conquer by
fear than by steel."
The knight had
scarce ended, when behold; the hands of all were loosed upon
the booty and everywhere plucked up the shining treasure.
There you might have marvelled at their disposition of
filthy greed, and watched a portentous spectacle of avarice.
You could have seen gold and grass clutched up together; the
birth of domestic discord; fellow-countrymen in deadly
combat, heedless of the foe; neglect of the bonds of
comradeship and of reverence for ties; greed the object of
all minds, and friendship of none.
Meantime Frode
traversed in a great march the forest which separates
Scotland and Britain, and bade his soldiers arm. When the
Scots beheld his line, and saw that they had only a supply
of light javelins, while the Danes were furnished with a
more excellent style of armour, they forestalled the battle
by flight. Frode pursued them but a little way, fearing a
sally of the British, and on returning met Scot, the husband
of Ulfhild, with a great army; he had been brought from the
utmost ends of Scotland by the desire of aiding the Danes.
Scot entreated him to abandon the pursuit of the Scottish
and turn back into Britain. So he eagerly regained the
plunder which he had cunningly sacrificed; and got back his
wealth with the greater ease, that he had so tranquilly let
it go. Then did the British repent of their burden and pay
for their covetousness with their blood. They were sorry to
have clutched at greed with insatiate arms, and ashamed to
have hearkened to their own avarice rather than to the
counsel of their king.
Then Frode attacked
London, the most populous city of Britain; but the strength
of its walls gave him no chance of capturing it. Therefore
he reigned to be dead, and his guile strengthened him. For
Daleman, the governor of London, on hearing the false news
of his death, accepted the surrender of the Danes, offered
them a native general, and suffered them to enter the town,
that they might choose him out of a great throng. They
feigned to be making a careful choice, but beset Daleman in
a night surprise and slew him.
When he had done
these things, and gone back to his own land, one Skat
entertained him at a banquet, desirous to mingle his
toilsome warfare with joyous licence. Frode was lying in his
house, in royal fashion, upon cushions of cloth of gold, and
a certain Hunding challenged him to fight. Then, though he
had bent his mind to the joys of wassail, he had more
delight in the prospect of a fray than in the presence of a
feast, and wound up the supper with a duel and the duel with
a triumph. In the combat he received a dangerous wound; but
a taunt of Hakon the champion again roused him, and, slaying
his challenger, he took vengeance for the disturbance of his
rest. Two of his chamber- servants were openly convicted of
treachery, and he had them tied to vast stones and drowned
in the sea; thus chastising the weighty guilt of their souls
by fastening boulders to their bodies. Some relate that
Ulfhild gave him a coat which no steel could pierce, so that
when he wore it no missile's point could hurt him. Nor must
I omit how Frode was wont to sprinkle his food with brayed
and pounded atoms of gold, as a resource against the usual
snares of poisoners. While he was attacking Ragnar, the King
of Sweden, who had been falsely accused of treachery, he
perished, not by the spears, but stifled in the weight of
his arms and by the heat of his own body.
Frode left three
sons, Halfdan, Ro, and Skat, who were equal in valour, and
were seized with an equal desire for the throne. All thought
of sway, none was constrained by brotherly regard: for love
of others forsaketh him who is eaten up with love of self,
nor can any man take thought at once for his own advancement
and for his friendship with others. Halfdan, the eldest son,
disgraced his birth with the sin of slaying his brethren,
winning his kingdom by the murder of his kin; and, to
complete his display of cruelty, arrested their adherents,
first confining them in bonds, and presently hanging them.
The most notable thing in the fortunes of Halfdan was this,
that though he devoted every instant of his life to the
practice of cruel deeds, yet he died of old age, and not by
the steel.
Halfdan's sons were
Ro and Helge. Ro is said to have been the founder of
Roskild, which was later increased in population and
enhanced in power by Sweyn, who was famous for the surname
Forkbeard. Ro was short and spare, while Helge was rather
tall of stature. Dividing the realm with his brother, Helge
was allotted the domain of the sea; and attacking Skalk, the
King of Sklavia, with his naval force, he slew him. Having
reduced Sklavia into a province, he scoured the various arms
of the sea in a wandering voyage. Savage of temper as Helge
was, his cruelty was not greater than his lust. For he was
so immoderately prone to love, that it was doubtful whether
the heat of his tyranny or of his concupiscence was the
greater. In Thorey he ravished the maiden Thora, who bore a
daughter, to whom she afterwards gave the name of Urse. Then
he conquered in battle, before the town of Stad, the son of
Syrik, King of Saxony, Hunding, whom he challenged,
attacked, and slew in duel. For this he was called
Hunding's-Bane, and by that name gained glory of his
victory. He took Jutland out of the power of the Saxons, and
entrusted its management to his generals, Heske, Eyr, and
Ler. In Saxony he enacted that the slaughter of a freedman
and of a noble should be visited with the same punishment;
as though he wished it to be clearly known that all the
households of the Teutons were held in equal slavery, and
that the freedom of all was tainted and savoured equally of
dishonour.
Then Helge went
freebooting to Thorey. But Thora had not ceased to bewail
her lost virginity, and planned a shameful device in
abominable vengeance for her rape. For she deliberately sent
down to the beach her daughter, who was of marriageable age,
and prompted her father to deflower her. And though she
yielded her body to the treacherous lures of delight, yet
she must not be thought to have abjured her integrity of
soul, inasmuch as her fault had a ready excuse by virtue of
her ignorance. Insensate mother, who allowed the forfeiture
of her child's chastity in order to avenge her own; caring
nought for the purity of her own blood, so she might stain
with incest the man who had cost her her own maidenhood at
first! Infamous-hearted woman, who, to punish her defiler,
measured out as it were a second defilement to herself,
whereas she clearly by the selfsame act rather swelled than
lessened the transgression! Surely, by the very act
wherewith she thought to reach her revenge, she accumulated
guilt; she added a sin in trying to remove a crime: she
played the stepdame to her own offspring, not sparing her
daughter abomination in order to atone for her own disgrace.
Doubtless her soul was brimming over with shamelessness,
since she swerved so far from shamefastness, as without a
blush to seek solace for her wrong in her daughter's infamy.
A great crime, with but one atonement; namely, that the
guilt of this intercourse was wiped away by a fortunate
progeny, its fruits being as delightful as its repute was
evil.
ROLF, the son of
Urse, retrieved the shame of his birth by signal deeds of
valour; and their exceeding lustre is honoured with bright
laudation by the memory of all succeeding time. For
lamentation sometimes ends in laughter, and foul beginnings
pass to fair issues. So that the father's fault, though
criminal, was fortunate, being afterwards atoned for by a
son of such marvellous splendour.
Meantime Ragnar
died in Sweden; and Swanhwid his wife passed away soon after
of a malady which she had taken from her sorrow, following
in death the husband from whom she had not endured severance
in life. For it often happens that some people desire to
follow out of life those whom they loved exceedingly when
alive. Their son Hothbrodd succeeded them. Fain to extend
his empire, he warred upon the East, and after a huge
massacre of many peoples begat two sons, Athisl and Hother,
and appointed as their tutor a certain Gewar, who was bound
to him by great services. Not content with conquering the
East, he assailed Denmark, challenged its king, Ro, in three
battles, and slew him. Helge, when he heard this, shut up
his son Rolf in Leire, wishing, however he might have
managed his own fortunes, to see to the safety of his heir.
When Hothbrodd sent in governors, wanting to free his
country from alien rule, he posted his people about the city
and prevailed and slew them. Also he annihilated Hothbrodd
himself and all his forces in a naval battle; so avenging
fully the wrongs of his country as well as of his brother.
Hence he who had before won a nickname for slaying Hunding,
now bore a surname for the slaughter of Hothbrodd. Besides,
as if the Swedes had not been enough stricken in the
battles, he punished them by stipulating for most
humiliating terms; providing by law that no wrong done to
any of them should receive amends according to the form of
legal covenants. After these deeds, ashamed of his former
infamy, he hated his country and his home, went back to the
East, and there died. Some think that he was affected by the
disgrace which was cast in his teeth, and did himself to
death by falling upon his drawn sword.
He was succeeded by
his son Rolf, who was comely with every gift of mind and
body, and graced his mighty stature with as high a courage.
In his time Sweden was subject to the sway of the Danes;
wherefore Athisl, the son of Hothbrodd, in pursuit of a
crafty design to set his country free, contrived to marry
Rolf's mother, Urse, thinking that his kinship by marriage
would plead for him, and enable him to prompt his stepson
more effectually to relax the tribute; and fortune prospered
his wishes. But Athisl had from his boyhood been imbued with
a hatred of liberality, and was so grasping of money, that
he accounted it a disgrace to be called openhanded. Urse,
seeing him so steeped in filthy covetousness, desired to be
rid of him; but, thinking that she must act by cunning,
veiled the shape of her guile with a marvellous skill.
Feigning to be unmotherly, she spurred on her husband to
grasp his freedom, and urged and tempted him to
insurrection; causing her son to be summoned to Sweden with
a promise of vast gifts. For she thought that she would best
gain her desire if, as soon as her son had got his
stepfather's gold, she could snatch up the royal treasures
and flee, robbing her husband of bed and money to hoot. For
she fancied that the best way to chastise his covetousness
would be to steal away his wealth. This deep guilefulness
was hard to detect, from such recesses of cunning did it
spring; because she dissembled her longing for a change of
wedlock under a show of aspiration for freedom. Blind-witted
husband, fancying the mother kindled against the life of the
son, never seeing that it was rather his own ruin being
compassed! Doltish lord, blind to the obstinate scheming of
his wife, who, out of pretended hatred of her son, devised
opportunity for change of wedlock! Though the heart of woman
should never be trusted, he believed in a woman all the more
insensately, because he supposed her faithful to himself and
treacherous to her son.
Accordingly, Rolf,
tempted by the greatness of the gifts, chanced to enter the
house of Athisl. He was not recognised by his mother owing
to his long absence and the cessation of their common life;
so in jest he first asked for some victual to appease his
hunger. She advised him to ask the king for a luncheon. Then
he thrust out a torn piece of his coat, and begged of her
the service of sewing it up. Finding his mother's ears shut
to him, he observed, "That it was hard to discover a
friendship that was firm and true, when a mother refused her
son a meal, and a sister refused a brother the help of her
needle." Thus he punished his mother's error, and made her
blush deep for her refusal of kindness. Athisl, when he saw
him reclining close to his mother at the banquet, taunted
them both with wantonness, declaring that it was an impure
intercourse of brother and sister. Rolf repelled the charge
against his honour by an appeal to the closest of natural
bonds, and answered, that it was honourable for a son to
embrace a beloved mother. Also, when the feasters asked him
what kind of courage he set above all others, he named
Endurance. When they also asked Athisl, what was the virtue
which above all he desired most devotedly, he declared,
Generosity. Proofs were therefore demanded of bravery on the
one hand and munificence on the other, and Rolf was asked to
give an evidence of courage first. He was placed to the
fire, and defending with his target the side that was most
hotly assailed, had only the firmness of his endurance to
fortify the other, which had no defence. How dexterous, to
borrow from his shield protection to assuage the heat, and
to guard his body, which was exposed to the flames, with
that which sometime sheltered it amid the hurtling spears!
But the glow was hotter than the fire of spears; as though
it could not storm the side that was entrenched by the
shield, yet it assaulted the flank that lacked its
protection. But a waiting-maid who happened to be standing
near the hearth, saw that he was being roasted by the
unbearable heat upon his ribs; so taking the stopper out of
a cask, she spilt the liquid and quenched the flame, and by
the timely kindness of the shower checked in its career the
torturing blaze. Rolf was lauded for supreme endurance, and
then came the request for Athisl's gifts. And they say that
he showered treasures on his stepson, and at last, in order
to crown the gift, bestowed on him an enormously heavy
necklace.
Now Urse, who had
watched her chance for the deed of guile, on the third day
of the banquet, without her husband ever dreaming of such a
thing, put all the king's wealth into carriages, and going
out stealthily, stole away from her own dwelling and fled in
the glimmering twilight, departing with her son. Thrilled
with fear of her husband's pursuit, and utterly despairing
of escape beyond, she begged and bade her companions to cast
away the money, declaring that they must lose either life or
riches; the short and only path to safety lay in flinging
away the treasure, nor could any aid to escape be found save
in the loss of their possessions. Therefore, said she, they
must follow the example of the manner in which Frode was
said to have saved himself among the Britons. She added,
that it was not paying a great price to lay down the Swedes'
own goods for them to regain; if only they could themselves
gain a start in flight, by the very device which would check
the others in their pursuit, and if they seemed not so much
to abandon their own possessions as to restore those of
other men. Not a moment was lost; in order to make the
flight swifter, they did the bidding of the queen. The gold
is cleared from their purses; the riches are left for the
enemy to seize. Some declare that Urse kept back the money,
and strewed the tracks of her flight with copper that was
gilt over. For it was thought credible that a woman who
could scheme such great deeds could also have painted with
lying lustre the metal that was meant to he lost, mimicking
riches of true worth with the sheen of spurious gold. So
Athisl, when he saw the necklace that he had given to Rolf
left among the other golden ornaments, gazed fixedly upon
the dearest treasure of his avarice, and, in order to pick
up the plunder, glued his knees to the earth and deigned to
stoop his royalty unto greed. Rolf, seeing him lie abjectly
on his face in order to gather up the money, smiled at the
sight of a man prostrated by his own gifts, just as if he
were seeking covetously to regain what he had craftily
yielded up. The Swedes were content with their booty, and
Rolf quickly retired to his ships, and managed to escape by
rowing violently.
Now they relate
that Rolf used with ready generosity to grant at the first
entreaty whatsoever he was begged to bestow, and never put
off the request till the second time of asking. For he
preferred to forestall repeated supplication by speedy
liberality, rather than mar his kindness by delay. This
habit brought him a great concourse of champions; valour
having commonly either rewards for its food or glory for its
spur.
At this time, a
certain Agnar, son of Ingild, being about to wed Rute, the
sister of Rolf, celebrated his bridal with a great banquet.
The champions were rioting at this banquet with every sort
of wantonness, and flinging from all over the room knobbed
bones at a certain Hjalte; but it chanced that his messmate,
named Bjarke, received a violent blow on the head through
the ill aim of the thrower; at whom, stung both by the pain
and the jeering, he sent the bone back, so that he twisted
the front of his head to the back, and wrung the back of it
to where the front had been; punishing the wryness of the
man's temper by turning his face sidelong. This deed
moderated their wanton and injurious jests, and drove the
champions to quit the place. The bridegroom, nettled at this
affront to the banquet, resolved to fight Bjarke, in order
to seek vengeance by means of a duel for the interruption of
their mirth. At the outset of the duel there was a long
dispute, which of them ought to have the chance of striking
first. For of old, in the ordering of combats, men did not
try to exchange their blows thick and fast; but there was a
pause, and at the same time a definite succession in
striking: the contest being carried on with few strokes, but
those terrible, so that honour was paid more to the
mightiness than to the number of the blows. Agnar, being of
higher rank, was put first; and the blow which he dealt is
said to have been so furious, that he cut through the front
of the helmet, wounded the skin on the scalp, and had to let
go his sword, which became locked in the vizor-holes. Then
Bjarke, who was to deal the return-stroke, leaned his foot
against a stock, in order to give the freer poise to his
steel, and passed his fine-edged blade through the midst of
Agnar's body. Some declare that Agnar, in supreme
suppression of his pain, gave up the ghost with his lips
relaxed into a smile. The champions passionately sought to
avenge him, but were visited by Bjarke with like
destruction; for he used a sword of wonderful sharpness and
unusual length which he called Lovi. While he was triumphing
in these deeds of prowess, a beast of the forest furnished
him fresh laurels. For he met a huge bear in a thicket, and
slew it with a javelin; and then bade his companion Hjalte
put his lips to the beast and drink the blood that came out,
that he might be the stronger afterwards. For it was
believed that a draught of this sort caused an increase of
bodily strength. By these valorous achievements he became
intimate with the most illustrious nobles, and even, became
a favourite of the king; took to wife his sister Rute, and
had the bride of the conquered as the prize of the conquest.
When Rolf was harried by Athisl he avenged himself on him in
battle and overthrew Athisl in war. Then Rolf gave his
sister Skulde in marriage to a youth of keen wit, called
Hiartuar, and made him governor of Sweden, ordaining a
yearly tax; wishing to soften the loss of freedom to him by
the favour of an alliance with himself.
Here let me put
into my work a thing that it is mirthful to record. A youth
named Wigg, scanning with attentive eye the bodily size of
Rolf, and smitten with great wonder thereat, proceeded to
inquire in jest who was that "Krage" whom Nature in her
beauty had endowed with such towering stature? Meaning
humorously to banter his uncommon tallness. For "Krage" in
the Danish tongue means a tree-trunk, whose branches are
pollarded, and whose summit is climbed in such wise that the
foot uses the lopped timbers as supports, as if leaning on a
ladder, and, gradually advancing to the higher parts, finds
the shortest way to the top. Rolf accepted this random word
as though it were a name of honour for him, and rewarded the
wit of the saying with a heavy bracelet. Then Wigg,
thrusting out his right arm decked with the bracelet, put
his left behind his back in affected shame, and walked with
a ludicrous gait, declaring that he, whose lot had so long
been poverty-stricken, was glad of a scanty gift. When he
was asked why he was behaving so, he said that the arm which
lacked ornament and had no splendour to boast of was
mantling with the modest blush of poverty to behold the
other. The ingenuity of this saying won him a present to
match the first. For Rolf made him bring out to view, like
the other, the hand which he was hiding. Nor was Wigg
heedless to repay the kindness; for be promised, uttering a
strict vow, that, if it befell Rolf to perish by the sword,
he would himself take vengeance on his slayers. Nor should
it be omitted that in old time nobles who were entering. The
court used to devote to their rulers the first-fruits of
their service by vowing some mighty exploit; thus bravely
inaugurating their first campaign.
Meantime, Skulde
was stung with humiliation at the payment of the tribute,
and bent her mind to devise deeds of horror. Taunting her
husband with his ignominious estate, she urged and egged him
to break off his servitude, induced him to weave plots
against Rolf, and filled his mind with the most abominable
plans of disloyalty, declaring that everyone owed more to
their freedom than to kinship. Accordingly, she ordered huge
piles of arms to be muffled up under divers coverings, to be
carried by Hiartuar into Denmark, as if they were tribute:
these would furnish a store wherewith to slay the king by
night. So the vessels were loaded with the mass of pretended
tribute, and they proceeded to Leire, a town which Rolf had
built and adorned with the richest treasure of his realm,
and which, being a royal foundation and a royal seat,
surpassed in importance all the cities of the neighbouring
districts. The king welcomed the coming of Hiartuar with a
splendid banquet, and drank very deep, while his guests,
contrary to their custom, shunned immoderate tippling. So,
while all the others were sleeping soundly, the Swedes, who
had been kept from their ordinary rest by their eagerness on
their guilty purpose, began furtively to slip down from
their sleeping-rooms. Straightway uncovering the hidden heap
of weapons, each girded on his arms silently and then went
to the palace. Bursting into its recesses, they drew their
swords upon the sleeping figures. Many awoke; but, invaded
as much by the sudden and dreadful carnage as by the
drowsiness of sleep, they faltered in their resistance; for
the night misled them and made it doubtful whether those
they met were friends or foes. Hjalte, who was foremost in
tried bravery among the nobles of the king, chanced to have
gone out in the dead of that same night into the country and
given himself to the embraces of a harlot. But when his
torpid hearing caught from afar the rising din of battle,
preferring valour to wantonness, he chose rather to seek the
deadly perils of the War- god than to yield to the soft
allurements of Love. What a love for his king, must we
suppose, burned in this warrior! For he might have excused
his absence by feigning not to have known; but he thought it
better to expose his life to manifest danger than save it
for pleasure. As he went away, his mistress asked him how
aged a man she ought to marry if she were to lose him? Then
Hjalte bade her come closer, as though he would speak to her
more privately; and, resenting that she needed a successor
to his love, he cut off her nose and made her unsightly,
punishing the utterance of that wanton question with a
shameful wound, and thinking that the lecherousness of her
soul ought to be cooled by outrage to her face. When he had
done this, he said he left her choice free in the matter she
had asked about. Then he went quickly back to the town and
plunged into the densest of the fray, mowing down the
opposing ranks as he gave blow for blow. Passing the
sleeping-room of Bjarke, who was still slumbering, he bade
him wake up, addressing him as follows:
"Let him awake
speedily, whoso showeth himself by service or avoweth
himself in mere loyalty, a friend of the king! Let the
princes shake off slumber, let shameless lethargy begone;
let their spirits awake and warm to the work; each man's own
right hand shall either give him to glory, or steep him in
sluggard shame; and this night shall be either end or
vengeance of our woes.
"I do not now bid
ye learn the sports of maidens, nor stroke soft cheeks, nor
give sweet kisses to the bride and press the slender
breasts, nor desire the flowing wine and chafe the soft
thigh and cast eyes upon snowy arms. I call you out to the
sterner fray of War. We need the battle, and not light love;
nerveless languor has no business here: our need calls for
battles. Whoso cherishes friendship for the king, let him
take up arms. Prowess in war is the readiest appraiser of
men's spirits. Therefore let warriors have no fearfulness
and the brave no fickleness: let pleasure quit their soul
and yield place to arms. Glory is now appointed for wages;
each can be the arbiter of his own renown, and shine by his
own right hand. Let nought here be tricked out with
wantonness: let all be full of sternness, and learn how to
rid them of this calamity. He who covets the honours or
prizes of glory must not be faint with craven fear, but go
forth to meet the brave, nor whiten at the cold steel."
At this utterance,
Bjarke, awakened, roused up his chamber-page Skalk speedily,
and addressed him as follows:
"Up, lad, and fan
the fire with constant blowing; sweep the hearth clear of
wood, and scatter the fine ashes. Strike out sparks from the
fire, rouse the fallen embers, draw out the smothered blaze.
Force the slackening hearth to yield light by kindling the
coals to a red glow with a burning log. It will do me good
to stretch out my fingers when the fire is brought nigh.
Surely he that takes heed for his friend should have warm
hands, and utterly drive away the blue and hurtful chill."
Hjalte said again:
"Sweet is it to repay the gifts received from our lord, to
grip the swords, and devote the steel to glory. Behold, each
man's courage tells him loyally to follow a king of such
deserts, and to guard our captain with fitting earnestness.
Let the Teuton swords, the helmets, the shining armlets, the
mail-coats that reach the heel, which Rolf of old bestowed
upon his men, let these sharpen our mindful hearts to the
fray. The time requires, and it is just, that in time of war
we should earn whatsoever we have gotten in the deep
idleness of peace, that we should not think more of joyous
courses than of sorrowful fortunes, or always prefer
prosperity to hardship. Being noble, let us with even soul
accept either lot, nor let fortune sway our behaviour, for
it beseems us to receive equably difficult and delightsome
days; let us pass the years of sorrow with the same
countenance wherewith we took the years of joy. Let us do
with brave hearts all the things that in our cups we boasted
with sodden lips; let us keep the vows which we swore by
highest Jove and the mighty gods. My master is the greatest
of the Danes: let each man, as he is valorous, stand by him;
far, far hence be all cowards! We need a brave and steadfast
man, not one that turns his back on a dangerous pass, or
dreads the grim preparations for battle. Often a general's
greatest valour depends on his soldiery, for the chief
enters the fray all the more at ease that a better array of
nobles throngs him round. Let the thane catch up his arms
with fighting fingers, setting his right hand on the hilt
and holding fast the shield: let him charge upon the foes,
nor pale at any strokes. Let none offer himself to be
smitten by the enemy behind, let none receive the swords in
his back: let the battling breast ever front the blow.
`Eagles fight brow foremost', and with swift gaping beaks
speed onward in the front: be ye like that bird in mien,
shrinking from no stroke, but with body facing the foe.
"See how the enemy,
furious and confident overduly, his limbs defended by the
steel, and his face with a gilded helmet, charges the thick
of the battle-wedges, as though sure of victory, fearless of
rout and invincible by any endeavour. Ah, misery! Swedish
assurance spurns the Danes. Behold, the Goths with savage
eyes and grim aspect advance with crested helms and clanging
spears: wreaking heavy slaughter in our blood, they wield
their swords and their battle-axes hone-sharpened.
"Why name thee,
Hiartuar, whom Skulde hath filled with guilty purpose, and
hath suffered thus to harden in sin? Why sing of thee,
villain, who hast caused our peril, betrayer of a noble
king? Furious lust of sway hath driven thee to attempt an
abomination, and, stung with frenzy, to screen thyself
behind thy wife's everlasting guilt. What error hath made
thee to hurt the Danes and thy lord, and hurled thee into
such foul crime as this? Whence entered thy heart the
treason framed with such careful guile?
"Why do I linger?
Now we have swallowed our last morsel. Our king perishes,
and utter doom overtakes our hapless city. Our last dawn has
risen, unless perchance there be one here so soft that he
fears to offer himself to the blows, or so unwarlike that he
dares not avenge his lord, and disowns all honours worthy of
his valour.
"Thou, Ruta, rise
and put forth thy snow-white head, come forth from thy
hiding into the battle. The carnage that is being done
without calls thee. By now the council-chamber is shaken
with warfare, and the gates creak with the dreadful fray.
Steel rends the mail-coats, the woven mesh is torn apart,
and the midriff gives under the rain of spears. By now the
huge axes have hacked small the shield of the king; by now
the long swords clash, and the battle-axe clatters its blows
upon the shoulders of men, and cleaves their breasts. Why
are your hearts afraid? Why is your sword faint and blunted?
The gate is cleared of our people, and is filled with the
press of the strangers."
And when Hjalte had
wrought very great carnage and stained the battle with
blood, he stumbled for the third time on Bjarke's berth, and
thinking he desired to keep quiet because he was afraid,
made trial of him with such taunts at his cowardice as
these:
"Bjarke, why art
thou absent? Doth deep sleep hold thee? I prithee, what
makes thee tarry? Come out, or the fire will overcome thee.
Ho! Choose the better way, charge with me! Bears may be kept
off with fire; let us spread fire in the recesses, and let
the blaze attack the door-posts first. Let the firebrand
fall upon the bedchamber, let the falling roof offer fuel
for the flames and serve to feed the fire. It is right to
scatter conflagration on the doomed gates. But let us who
honour our king with better loyalty form the firm
battle-wedges, and, having measured the phalanx in safe
rows, go forth in the way the king taught us: our king, who
laid low Rorik, the son of Bok the covetous, and wrapped the
coward in death. He was rich in wealth, but in enjoyment
poor, stronger in gain than bravery; and thinking gold
better than warfare, he set lucre above all things, and
ingloriously accumulated piles of treasure, scorning the
service of noble friends. And when he was attacked by the
navy of Rolf, he bade his servants take the gold from the
chests and spread it out in front of the city gates, making
ready bribes rather than battle, because he knew not the
soldier, and thought that the foe should be attempted with
gifts and not with arms: as though he could fight with
wealth alone, and prolong the war by using, not men, but
wares! So he undid the heavy coffers and the rich chests; he
brought forth the polished bracelets and the heavy caskets;
they only fed his destruction. Rich in treasure, poor in
warriors, he left his foes to take away the prizes which he
forebore to give to the friends of his own land. He who once
shrank to give little rings of his own will, now unwillingly
squandered his masses of wealth, rifling his hoarded heap.
But our king in his wisdom spurned him and the gifts he
proffered, and took from him life and goods at once; nor was
his foe profited by the useless wealth which he had greedily
heaped up through long years. But Rolf the righteous
assailed him, slew him, and captured his vast wealth, and
shared among worthy friends what the hand of avarice had
piled up in all those years; and, bursting into the camp
which was wealthy but not brave, gave his friends a lordly
booty without bloodshed. Nothing was so fair to him that he
would not lavish it, or so dear that he would not give it to
his friends, for he used treasure like ashes, and measured
his years by glory and not by gain. Whence it is plain that
the king who hath died nobly lived also most nobly, that the
hour of his doom is beautiful, and that he graced the years
of his life with manliness. For while he lived his glowing
valour prevailed over all things, and he was allotted might
worthy of his lofty stature. He was as swift to war as a
torrent tearing down to sea, and as speedy to begin battle
as a stag is to fly with cleft foot upon his fleet way.
"See now, among the
pools dripping with human blood, the teeth struck out of the
slain are carried on by the full torrent of gore, and are
polished on the rough sands. Dashed on the slime they
glitter, and the torrent of blood bears along splintered
bones and flows above lopped limbs. The blood of the Danes
is wet, and the gory flow stagnates far around, and the
stream pressed out of the steaming veins rolls back the
scattered bodies. Tirelessly against the Danes advances
Hiartuar, lover of battle, and challenges the fighters with
outstretched spear. Yet here, amid the dangers and dooms of
war, I see Frode's grandson smiling joyously, who once sowed
the fields of Fyriswald with gold. Let us also be exalted
with an honourable show of joy, following in death the doom
of our noble father. Be we therefore cheery in voice and
bold in daring; for it is right to spurn all fear with words
of courage, and to meet our death in deeds of glory. Let
fear quit heart and face; in both let us avow our dauntless
endeavours, that no sign anywhere may show us to betray
faltering fear. Let our drawn sword measure the weight of
our service. Fame follows us in death, and glory shall
outlive our crumbling ashes! And that which perfect valour
hath achieved during its span shall not fade for ever and
ever. What want we with closed floors? Why doth the locked
bolt close the folding- gates? For it is now the third cry,
Bjarke, that calls thee, and bids thee come forth from the
barred room."
Bjarke rejoined:
"Warlike Hjalte, why dost thou call me so loud? I am the
son-in-law of Rolf. He who boasts loud and with big words
challenges other men to battle, is bound to be venturous and
act up to his words, that his deed may avouch his vaunt. But
stay till I am armed and have girded on the dread attire of
war.
"And now I tie my
sword to my side, now first I get my body guarded with
mail-coat and headpiece, the helm keeping my brows and the
stout iron shrouding my breast. None shrinks more than I
from being burnt a prisoner inside, and made a pyre together
with my own house: though an island brought me forth, and
though the land of my birth be bounded, I shall hold it a
debt to repay to the king the twelve kindreds which he added
to my honours. Hearken, warriors! Let none robe in mail his
body that shall perish; let him last of all draw tight the
woven steel; let the shields go behind the back; let us
fight with bared breasts, and load all your arms with gold.
Let your right hands receive the bracelets, that they may
swing their blows the more heavily and plant the grievous
wound. Let none fall back! Let each zealously strive to meet
the swords of the enemy and the threatening spears, that we
may avenge our beloved master. Happy beyond all things is he
who can mete out revenge for such a crime, and with
righteous steel punish the guilt of treacheries.
"Lo, methinks I
surely pierced a wild stag with the Teutonic sword which is
called Snyrtir: from which I won the name of Warrior, when I
felled Agnar, son of Ingild, and brought the trophy home. He
shattered and broke with the bite the sword Hoding which
smote upon my head, and would have dealt worse wounds if the
edge of his blade had held out better. In return I clove
asunder his left arm and part of his left side and his right
foot, and the piercing steel ran down his limbs and smote
deep into his ribs. By Hercules! No man ever seemed to me
stronger than he. For he sank down half-conscious, and,
leaning on his elbow, welcomed death with a smile, and
spurned destruction with a laugh, and passed rejoicing in
the world of Elysium. Mighty was the man's courage, which
knew how with one laugh to cover his death-hour, and with a
joyous face to suppress utter anguish of mind and body!
"Now also with the
same blade I searched the heart of one sprung from an
illustrious line, and plunged the steel deep in his breast.
He was a king's son, of illustrious ancestry, of a noble
nature, and shone with the brightness of youth. The mailed
metal could not avail him, nor his sword, nor the smooth
target-boss; so keen was the force of my steel, it knew not
how to be stayed by obstacles.
"Where, then, are
the captains of the Goths, and the soldiery of Hiartuar? Let
them come, and pay for their might with their life-blood.
Who can cast, who whirl the lance, save scions of kings? War
springs from the nobly born: famous pedigrees are the makers
of war. For the perilous deeds which chiefs attempt are not
to be done by the ventures of common men. Renowned nobles
are passing away. Lo! Greatest Rolf, thy great ones have
fallen, thy holy line is vanishing. No dim and lowly race,
no low-born dead, no base souls are Pluto's prey, but he
weaves the dooms of the mighty, and fills Phlegethon with
noble shapes.
"I do not remember
any combat wherein swords were crossed in turn and blow
dealt out for blow more speedily. I take three for each I
give; thus do the Goths requite the wounds I deal them, and
thus doth the stronger hand of the enemy avenge with heaped
interest the punishment that they receive. Yet singly in
battle I have given over the bodies of so many men to the
pyre of destruction, that a mound like a hill could grow up
and be raised out of their lopped limbs, and the piles of
carcases would look like a burial-barrow. And now what doeth
he, who but now bade me come forth, vaunting himself with
mighty praise, and chafing others with his arrogant words,
and scattering harsh taunts, as though in his one body he
enclosed twelve lives?"
Hjalte answered:
"Though I have but scant help, I am not far off. Even here,
where I stand, there is need of aid, and nowhere is a force
or a chosen band of warriors ready for battle wanted more.
Already the hard edges and the spear-points have cleft my
shield in splinters, and the ravening steel has rent and
devoured its portions bit by bit in the battle. The first of
these things testifies to and avows itself. Seeing is better
than telling, eyesight faithfuller than hearing. For of the
broken shield only the fastenings remain, and the boss,
pierced and broken in its circle, is all left me. And now,
Bjarke, thou art strong, though thou hast come forth more
tardily than was right, and thou retrievest by bravery the
loss caused by thy loitering."
But Bjarke said:
"Art thou not yet weary of girding at me and goading me with
taunts? Many things often cause delay. The reason why I
tarried was the sword in my path, which the Swedish foe
whirled against my breast with mighty effort. Nor did the
guider of the hilt drive home the sword with little might;
for though the body was armed he smote it as far as one may
when it is bare or defenceless; he pierced the armour of
hard steel like yielding waters; nor could the rough, heavy
breastplate give me any help.
"But where now is
he that is commonly called Odin, the mighty in battle,
content ever with a single eye? If thou see him anywhere,
Rute, tell me."
Rute replied:
"Bring thine eye closer and look under my arm akimbo: thou
must first hallow thine eyes with the victorious sign, if
thou wilt safely know the War-god face to face."
Then said Bjarke:
"If I may look on the awful husband of Frigg, howsoever he
be covered with his white shield, and guide his tall steed,
he shall in no wise go safe out of Leire; it is lawful to
lay low in war the war-waging god. Let a noble death come to
those that fall before the eyes of their king. While life
lasts, let us strive for the power to die honourably and to
reap a noble end by our deeds. I will die overpowered near
the head of my slain captain, and at his feet thou also
shalt slip on thy face in death, so that whoso scans the
piled corpses may see in what wise we rate the gold our lord
gave us. We shall be the prey of ravens and a morsel for
hungry eagles, and the ravening bird shall feast on the
banquet of our body. Thus should fall princes dauntless in
war, clasping their famous king in a common death."
I have composed
this particular series of harangues in metrical shape,
because the gist of the same thoughts is found arranged in a
short form in a certain ancient Danish song, which is
repeated by heart by many conversant with antiquity.
Now, it came to
pass that the Goths gained the victory and all the array of
Rolf fell, no man save Wigg remaining out of all those
warriors. For the soldiers of the king paid this homage to
his noble virtues in that battle, that his slaying inspired
in all the longing to meet their end, and union with him in
death was accounted sweeter than life.
HIARTUAR rejoiced,
and had the tables spread for feasting, bidding the banquet
come after the battle, and fain to honour his triumph with a
carouse. And when he was well filled therewith, he said that
it was matter of great marvel to him, that out of all the
army of Rolf no man had been found to take thought for his
life by flight or fraud. Hence, he said, it had been
manifest with what zealous loyalty they had kept their love
for their king, because they had not endured to survive him.
He also blamed his ill fortune, because it had not suffered
the homage of a single one of them to be left for himself:
protesting that he would very willingly accept the service
of such men. Then Wigg came forth, and Hiartuar, as though
he were congratulating him on the gift, asked him if he were
willing to fight for him. Wigg assenting, he drew and
proferred him a sword. But Wigg refused the point, and asked
for the hilt, saying first that this had been Rolf's custom
when he handed forth a sword to his soldiers. For in old
time those who were about to put themselves in dependence on
the king used to promise fealty by touching the hilt of the
sword. And in this wise Wigg clasped the hilt, and then
drove the point through Hiartuar; thus gaining the vengeance
which he had promised Rolf to accomplish for him. When he
had done this, and the soldiers of Hiartuar rushed at him,
he exposed his body to them eagerly and exultantly, shouting
that he felt more joy in the slaughter of the tyrant than
bitterness at his own. Thus the feast was turned into a
funeral, and the wailing of burial followed the joy of
victory. Glorious, ever memorable hero, who valiantly kept
his vow, and voluntarily courted death, staining with blood
by his service the tables of the despot! For the lively
valour of his spirit feared not the hands of the
slaughterers, when he had once beheld the place where Rolf
had been wont to live bespattered with the blood of his
slayer. Thus the royalty of Hiartuar was won and ended on
the same day. For whatsoever is gotten with guile melts away
in like fashion as it is sought, and no fruits are
long-lasting that have been won by treachery and crime.
Hence it came to pass that the Swedes, who had a little
before been the possessors of Denmark, came to lose even
their own liberty. For they were straightway cut off by the
Zealanders, and paid righteous atonement to the injured
shades of Rolf. In this way does stern fortune commonly
avenge the works of craft and cunning.
BOOK THREE
After Hiartuar,
HOTHER, whom I mentioned above, the brother of Athisl, and
also the fosterling of King Gewar, became sovereign of both
realms. It will be easier to relate his times if I begin
with the beginning of his life. For if the earlier years of
his career are not doomed to silence, the latter ones can be
more fully and fairly narrated.
When Helgi had
slain Hodbrodd, his son Hother passed the length of his
boyhood under the tutelage of King Gewar. While a stripling,
he excelled in strength of body all his foster- brethren and
compeers. Moreover, he was gifted with many accomplishments
of mind. He was very skilled in swimming and archery, and
also with the gloves; and further was as nimble as such a
youth could be, his training being equal to his strength.
Though his years were unripe, his richly-dowered spirit
surpassed them. None was more skilful on lyre or harp; and
he was cunning on the timbrel, on the lute, and in every
modulation of string instruments. With his changing measures
he could sway the feelings of men to what passions he would;
he knew how to fill human hearts with joy or sadness, with
pity or with hatred, and used to enwrap the soul with the
delight or terror of the ear. All these accomplishments of
the youth pleased Nanna, the daughter of Gewar, mightily,
and she began to seek his embraces. For the valour of a
youth will often kindle a maid, and the courage of those
whose looks are not so winning is often acceptable. For love
hath many avenues; the path of pleasure is opened to some by
grace, to others by bravery of soul, and to some by skill in
accomplishments. Courtesy brings to some stores of Love,
while most are commended by brightness of beauty. Nor do the
brave inflict a shallower wound on maidens than the comely.
Now it befell that
Balder the son of Odin was troubled at the sight of Nanna
bathing, and was seized with boundless love. He was kindled
by her fair and lustrous body, and his heart was set on fire
by her manifest beauty; for nothing exciteth passion like
comeliness. Therefore he resolved to slay with the sword
Hother, who, he feared, was likeliest to baulk his wishes;
so that his love, which brooked no postponement, might not
be delayed in the enjoyment of its desire by any obstacle.
About this time
Hother chanced, while hunting, to be led astray by a mist,
and he came on a certain lodge in which were wood- maidens;
and when they greeted him by his own name, he asked who they
were. They declared that it was their guidance and
government that mainly determined the fortunes of war. For
they often invisibly took part in battles, and by their
secret assistance won for their friends the coveted
victories. They averted, indeed, that they could win
triumphs and inflict defeats as they would; and further told
him how Balder had seen his foster-sister Nanna while she
bathed, and been kindled with passion for her; but
counselled Hother not to attack him in war, worthy as he was
of his deadliest hate, for they declared that Balder was a
demigod, sprung secretly from celestial seed. When Hother
had heard this, the place melted away and left him
shelterless, and he found himself standing in the open and
out in the midst of the fields, without a vestige of shade.
Most of all he marvelled at the swift flight of the maidens,
the shifting of the place, and the delusive semblance of the
building. For he knew not that all that had passed around
him had been a mere mockery and an unreal trick of the arts
of magic.
Returning thence,
he related to Gewar the mystification that had followed on
his straying, and straightway asked him for his daughter.
Gewar answered that he would most gladly favour him, but
that he feared if he rejected Balder he would incur his
wrath; for Balder, he said, had proffered him a like
request. For he said that the sacred strength of Balder's
body was proof even against steel; adding, however, that he
knew of a sword which could deal him his death, which was
fastened up in the closest bonds; this was in the keeping of
Miming, the Satyr of the woods, who also had a bracelet of a
secret and marvellous virtue, that used to increase the
wealth of the owner. Moreover, the way to these regions was
impassable and filled with obstacles, and therefore hard for
mortal men to travel. For the greater part of the road was
perpetually beset with extraordinary cold. So he advised him
to harness a car with reindeer, by means of whose great
speed he could cross the hard-frozen ridges. And when he had
got to the place, he should set up his tent away from the
sun in such wise that it should catch the shadow of the cave
where Miming was wont to be; while he should not in return
cast a shade upon Miming, so that no unaccustomed darkness
might be thrown and prevent the Satyr from going out. Thus
both the bracelet and the sword would be ready to his hand,
one being attended by fortune in wealth and the other by
fortune in war, and each of them thus bringing a great prize
to the owner. Thus much said Gewar; and Hother was not slow
to carry out his instructions. Planting his tent in the
manner aforesaid, he passed the nights in anxieties and the
days in hunting. But through either season he remained very
wakeful and sleepless, allotting the divisions of night and
day so as to devote the one to reflection on events, and to
spend the other in providing food for his body. Once as he
watched all night, his spirit was drooping and dazed with
anxiety, when the Satyr cast a shadow on his tent. Aiming a
spear at him, he brought him down with the blow, stopped
him, and bound him, while he could not make his escape. Then
in the most dreadful words he threatened him with the worst,
and demanded the sword and bracelets. The Satyr was not slow
to tender him the ransom of his life for which he was asked.
So surely do all prize life beyond wealth; for nothing is
ever cherished more among mortals than the breath of their
own life. Hother, exulting in the treasure he had gained,
went home enriched with trophies which, though few, were
noble.
When Gelder, the
King of Saxony, heard that Hother had gained these things,
he kept constantly urging his soldiers to go and carry off
such glorious booty; and the warriors speedily equipped a
fleet in obedience to their king. Gewar, being very learned
in divining and an expert in the knowledge of omens, foresaw
this; and summoning Hother, told him, when Gelder should
join battle with him, to receive his spears with patience,
and not let his own fly until he saw the enemy's missiles
exhausted; and further, to bring up the curved scythes
wherewith the vessels could be rent and the helmets and
shields plucked from the soldiers. Hother followed his
advice and found its result fortunate. For he bade his men,
when Gelder began to charge, to stand their ground and
defend their bodies with their shields, affirming that the
victory in that battle must be won by patience. But the
enemy nowhere kept back their missiles, spending them all in
their extreme eagerness to fight; and the more patiently
they found Hother bear himself in his reception of their
spears and lances, the more furiously they began to hurl
them. Some of these stuck in the shields and some in the
ships, and few were the wounds they inflicted; many of them
were seen to be shaken off idly and to do no hurt. For the
soldiers of Hother performed the bidding of their king, and
kept off the attack of the spears by a penthouse of
interlocked shields; while not a few of the spears smote
lightly on the bosses and fell into the waves. When Gelder
was emptied of all his store, and saw the enemy picking it
up, and swiftly hurling it back at him, he covered the
summit of the mast with a crimson shield, as a signal of
peace, and surrendered to save his life. Hother received him
with the friendliest face and the kindliest words, and
conquered him as much by his gentleness as he had by his
skill.
At this time Helgi,
King of Halogaland, was sending frequent embassies to press
his suit for Thora, daughter of Kuse, sovereign of the Finns
and Perms. Thus is weakness ever known by its wanting help
from others. For while all other young men of that time used
to sue in marriage with their own lips, this man was
afflicted with so faulty an utterance that he was ashamed to
be heard not only by strangers, but by those of his own
house. So much doth calamity shun all witnesses; for natural
defects are the more vexing the more manifest they are. Kuse
despised his embassy, answering that that man did not
deserve a wife who trusted too little to his own manhood,
and borrowed by entreaty the aid of others in order to gain
his suit. When Helgi heard this, be besought Hother, whom he
knew to be an accomplished pleader, to favour his desires,
promising that he would promptly perform whatsoever he
should command him. The earnest entreaties of the youth
prevailed on Hother, and he went to Norway with an armed
fleet, intending to achieve by arms the end which he could
not by words. And when he had pleaded for Helgi with the
most dulcet eloquence, Kuse rejoined that his daughter's
wish must be consulted, in order that no paternal strictness
might forestall anything against her will. He called her in
and asked her whether she felt a liking for her wooer; and
when she assented he promised Helgi her hand. In this way
Hother, by the sweet sounds of his fluent and well-turned
oratory, opened the ears of Kuse, which were before deaf to
the suit he urged.
While this was
passing in Halogaland, Balder entered the country of Gewar
armed, in order to sue for Nanna. Gewar bade him learn
Nanna's own mind; so he approached the maiden with the most
choice and cajoling words; and when he could win no hearing
for his prayers, he persisted in asking the reason of his
refusal. She replied, that a god could not wed with a
mortal, because the vast difference of their natures
prevented any bond of intercourse. Also the gods sometimes
used to break their pledges; and the bond contracted between
unequals was apt to snap suddenly. There was no firm tie
between those of differing estate; for beside the great, the
fortunes of the lowly were always dimmed. Also lack and
plenty dwelt in diverse tents, nor was there any fast bond
of intercourse between gorgeous wealth and obscure poverty.
In fine, the things of earth would not mate with those of
heaven, being sundered by a great original gulf through a
difference in nature; inasmuch as mortal man was infinitely
far from the glory of the divine majesty. With this
shuffling answer she eluded the suit of Balder, and shrewdly
wove excuses to refuse his hand.
When Hother heard
this from Gewar, he complained long to Helgi of Balder's
insolence. Both were in doubt as to what should be done, and
beat their brains over divers plans; for converse with a
friend in the day of trouble, though it removeth not the
peril, yet maketh the heart less sick. Amid all the desires
of their souls the passion of valour prevailed, and a naval
battle was fought with Balder. One would have thought it a
contest of men against gods, for Odin and Thor and the holy
array of the gods fought for Balder. There one could have
beheld a war in which divine and human might were mingled.
But Hother was clad in his steel-defying tunic, and charged
the closest bands of the gods, assailing them as vehemently
as a son of earth could assail the powers above. However,
Thor was swinging his club with marvellous might, and
shattered all interposing shields, calling as loudly on his
foes to attack him as upon his friends to back him up. No
kind of armour withstood his onset, no man could receive his
stroke and live. Whatsoever his blow fended off it crushed;
neither shield nor helm endured the weight of its dint; no
greatness of body or of strength could serve. Thus the
victory would have passed to the gods, but that Hother,
though his line had already fallen back, darted up, hewed
off the club at the haft, and made it useless. And the gods,
when they had lost this weapon, fled incontinently. But that
antiquity vouches for it, it were quite against common
belief to think that men prevailed against gods. (We call
them gods in a supposititious rather than in a real sense;
for to such we give the title of deity by the custom of
nations, not because of their nature.)
As for Balder, he
took to flight and was saved. The conquerors either hacked
his ships with their swords or sunk them in the sea; not
content to have defeated gods, they pursued the wrecks of
the fleet with such rage, as if they would destroy them to
satiate their deadly passion for war. Thus doth prosperity
commonly whet the edge of licence. The haven, recalling by
its name Balder's flight, bears witness to the war. Gelder,
the King of Saxony, who met his end in the same war, was set
by Hother upon the corpses of his oarsmen, and then laid on
a pyre built of vessels, and magnificently honoured in his
funeral by Hother, who not only put his ashes in a noble
barrow, treating them as the remains of a king, but also
graced them with most reverent obsequies. Then, to prevent
any more troublesome business delaying his hopes of
marriage, he went back to Gewar and enjoyed the coveted
embraces of Nanna. Next, having treated Helgi and Thora very
generously, he brought his new queen back to Sweden, being
as much honoured by all for his victory as Balder was
laughed at for his flight.
At this time the
nobles of the Swedes repaired to Demnark to pay their
tribute; but Hother, who had been honoured as a king by his
countrymen for the splendid deeds of his father, experienced
what a lying pander Fortune is. For he was conquered in the
field by Balder, whom a little before he had crushed, and
was forced to flee to Gewar, thus losing while a king that
victory which he had won as a common man. The conquering
Balder, in order to slake his soldiers, who were parched
with thirst, with the blessing of a timely draught, pierced
the earth deep and disclosed a fresh spring. The thirsty
ranks made with gaping lips for the water that gushed forth
everywhere. The traces of these springs, eternised by the
name, are thought not quite to have dried up yet, though
they have ceased to well so freely as of old. Balder was
continually harassed by night phantoms feigning the likeness
of Nanna, and fell into such ill health that he could not so
much as walk, and began the habit of going his journeys in a
two horse car or a four-wheeled carriage. So great was the
love that had steeped his heart and now had brought him down
almost to the extremity of decline. For he thought that his
victory had brought him nothing if Nanna was not his prize.
Also Frey, the regent of the gods, took his abode not far
from Upsala, where he exchanged for a ghastly and infamous
sin-offering the old custom of prayer by sacrifice, which
had been used by so many ages and generations. For he paid
to the gods abominable offerings, by beginning to slaughter
human victims.
Meantime Hother (1)
learned that Denmark lacked leaders, and that Hiartuar had
swiftly expiated the death of Rolf; and he used to say that
chance had thrown into his hands that to which he could
scarce have aspired. For first, Rolf, whom he ought to have
killed, since he remembered that Rolf's father had slain his
own, had been punished by the help of another; and also, by
the unexpected bounty of events, a chance had been opened to
him of winning Denmark. In truth, if the pedigree of his
forefathers were rightly traced, that realm was his by
ancestral right! Thereupon he took possession, with a very
great fleet, of Isefjord, a haven of Zealand, so as to make
use of his impending fortune. There the people of the Danes
met him and appointed him king; and a little after, on
hearing of the death of his brother Athisl, whom he had
bidden rule the Swedes, he joined the Swedish empire to that
of Denmark. But Athisl was cut off by an ignominious death.
For whilst, in great jubilation of spirit, he was honouring
the funeral rites of Rolf with a feast, he drank too
greedily, and paid for his filthy intemperance by his sudden
end. And so, while he was celebrating the death of another
with immoderate joviality, he forced on his own apace.
While Hother was in
Sweden, Balder also came to Zealand with a fleet; and since
he was thought to be rich in arms and of singular majesty,
the Danes accorded him with the readiest of voices whatever
he asked concerning the supreme power. With such wavering
judgment was the opinion of our forefathers divided. Hother
returned from Sweden and attacked him. They both coveted
sway, and the keenest contest for the sovereignty began
between them; but it was cut short by the flight of Hother.
He retired to Jutland, and caused to be named after him the
village in which he was wont to stay. Here he passed the
winter season, and then went back to Sweden alone and
unattended. There he summoned the grandees, and told them
that he was weary of the light of life because of the
misfortunes wherewith Balder had twice victoriously stricken
him. Then he took farewell of all, and went by a circuitous
path to a place that was hard of access, traversing forests
uncivilised. For it oft happens that those upon whom has
come some inconsolable trouble of spirit seek, as though it
were a medicine to drive away their sadness, far and
sequestered retreats, and cannot bear the greatness of their
grief amid the fellowship of men; so dear, for the most
part, is solitude to sickness. For filthiness and grime are
chiefly pleasing to those who have been stricken with
ailments of the soul. Now he had been wont to give out from
the top of a hill decrees to the people when they came to
consult him; and hence when they came they upbraided the
sloth of the king for hiding himself, and his absence was
railed at by all with the bitterest complaints.
But Hother, when he
had wandered through remotest byways and crossed an
uninhabited forest, chanced to come upon a cave where dwelt
some maidens whom he knew not; but they proved to be the
same who had once given him the invulnerable coat. Asked by
them wherefore he had come thither, he related the
disastrous issue of the war. So he began to bewail the ill
luck of his failures and his dismal misfortunes, condemning
their breach of faith, and lamenting that it had not turned
out for him as they had promised him. But the maidens said
that though he had seldom come off victorious, he had
nevertheless inflicted as much defeat on the enemy as they
on him, and had dealt as much carnage as he had shared in.
Moreover, the favour of victory would be speedily his, if he
could first lay hands upon a food of extraordinary
delightsomeness which had been devised to increase the
strength of Balder. For nothing would be difficult if he
could only get hold of the dainty which was meant to enhance
the rigour of his foe.
Hard as it sounded
for earthborn endeavours to make armed assault upon the
gods, the words of the maidens inspired Hother's mind with
instant confidence to fight with Balder. Also some of his
own people said that he could not safely contend with those
above; but all regard for their majesty was expelled by the
boundless fire of his spirit. For in brave souls vehemence
is not always sapped by reason, nor doth counsel defeat
rashness. Or perchance it was that Hother remembered how the
might of the lordliest oft proveth unstable, and how a
little clod can batter down great chariots.
On the other side,
Balder mustered the Danes to arms and met Hother in the
field. Both sides made a great slaughter; the carnage of the
opposing parties was nearly equal, and night stayed the
battle. About the third watch, Hother, unknown to any man,
went out to spy upon the enemy, anxiety about the impending
peril having banished sleep. This strong excitement favours
not bodily rest, and inward disquiet suffers not outward
repose. So, when he came to the camp of the enemy he heard
that three maidens had gone out carrying the secret feast of
Balder. He ran after them (for their footsteps in the dew
betrayed their flight), and at last entered their accustomed
dwelling. When they asked him who he was, he answered, a
lutanist, nor did the trial belie his profession. For when
the lyre was offered him, he tuned its strings, ordered and
governed the chords with his quill, and with ready
modulation poured forth a melody pleasant to the ear. Now
they had three snakes, of whose venom they were wont to mix
a strengthening compound for the food of Balder, and even
now a flood of slaver was dripping on the food from the open
mouths of the serpents. And some of the maidens would, for
kindness sake, have given Hother a share of the dish, had
not eldest of the three forbidden them, declaring that
Balder would be cheated if they increased the bodily powers
of his enemy. He had said, not that he was Hother, but that
he was one of his company. Now the same nymphs, in their
gracious kindliness, bestowed on him a belt of perfect sheen
and a girdle which assured victory.
Retracing the path
by which he had come, he went back on the same road, and
meeting Balder plunged his sword into his side, and laid him
low half dead. When the news was told to the soldiers, a
cheery shout of triumph rose from all the camp of Hother,
while the Danes held a public mourning for the fate of
Balder. He, feeling no doubt of his impending death, and
stung by the anguish of his wound, renewed the battle on the
morrow; and, when it raged hotly, bade that he should be
borne on a litter into the fray, that he might not seem to
die ignobly within his tent. On the night following,
Proserpine was seen to stand by him in a vision, and to
promise that on the morrow he should have her embrace. The
boding of the dream was not idle; for when three days had
passed, Balder perished from the excessive torture of his
wound; and his body given a royal funeral, the army causing
it to be buried in a barrow which they had made.
Certain men of our
day, Chief among whom was Harald, (2) since the story of the
ancient burial-place still survived, made a raid on it by
night in the hope of finding money, but abandoned their
attempt in sudden panic. For the hill split, and from its
crest a sudden and mighty torrent of loud-roaring waters
seemed to burst; so that its flying mass, shooting furiously
down, poured over the fields below, and enveloped whatsoever
it struck upon, and at its onset the delvers were dislodged,
flung down their mattocks, and fled divers ways; thinking
that if they strove any longer to carry through their
enterprise they would be caught in the eddies of the water
that was rushing down. Thus the guardian gods of that spot
smote fear suddenly into the minds of the youths, taking
them away from covetousness, and turning them to see to
their safety; teaching them to neglect their greedy purpose
and be careful of their lives. Now it is certain that this
apparent flood was not real but phantasmal; not born in the
bowels of the earth (since Nature suffereth not liquid
springs to gush forth in a dry place), but produced by some
magic agency. All men afterwards, to whom the story of that
breaking in had come down, left this hill undisturbed.
Wherefore it has never been made sure whether it really
contains any wealth; for the dread of peril has daunted
anyone since Harald from probing its dark foundations.
But Odin, though he
was accounted the chief of the gods, began to inquire of the
prophets and diviners concerning the way to acomplish
vengeance for his son, as well as all others whom he had
beard were skilled in the most recondite arts of
soothsaying. For godhead that is incomplete is oft in want
of the help of man. Rostioph (Hrossthiof), the Finn,
foretold to him that another son must be born to him by
Rinda (Wrinda), daughter of the King of the Ruthenians; this
son was destined to exact punishment for the slaying of his
brother. For the gods had appointed to the brother that was
yet to be born the task of avenging his kinsman. Odin, when
he heard this, muffled his face with a cap, that his garb
might not betray him, and entered the service of the said
king as a soldier; and being made by him captain of the
soldiers, and given an army, won a splendid victory over the
enemy. And for his stout achievement in this battle the king
admitted him into the chief place in his friendship,
distinguishing him as generously with gifts as with honours.
A very little while afterwards Odin routed the enemy
single-handed, and returned, at once the messenger and the
doer of the deed. All marvelled that the strength of one man
could deal such slaughter upon a countless host. Trusting in
these services, he privily let the king into the secret of
his love, and was refreshed by his most gracious favour; but
when he sought a kiss from the maiden, he received a cuff.
But he was not driven from his purpose either by anger at
the slight or by the odiousness of the insult.
Next year, loth to
quit ignobly the quest he had taken up so eagerly, he put on
the dress of a foreigner and went back to dwell with the
king. It was hard for those who met him to recognise him;
for his assumed filth obliterated his true features, and new
grime hid his ancient aspect. He said that his name was
Roster (Hrosstheow), and that he was skilled in smithcraft.
And his handiwork did honour to his professions: for he
portrayed in bronze many and many a shape most beautifully,
so that he received a great mass of gold from the king, and
was ordered to hammer out the ornaments of the matrons. So,
after having wrought many adornments for women's wearing, he
at last offered to the maiden a bracelet which he had
polished more laboriously than the rest and several rings
which were adorned with equal care. But no services could
assuage the wrath of Rinda; when he was fain to kiss her she
cuffed him; for gifts offered by one we hate are
unacceptable, while those tendered by a friend are far more
grateful: so much doth the value of the offering oft turn on
the offerer. For this stubborn-hearted maiden never doubted
that the crafty old man was feigning generosity in order to
seize an opening to work his lust. His temper, moreover, was
keen and indomitable; for she knew that his homage covered
guile, and that under the devotion of his gifts there lay a
desire for crime. Her father fell to upbraiding her heavily
for refusing the match; but she loathed to wed an old man,
and the plea of her tender years lent her some support in
her scorning of his hand; for she said that a young girl
ought not to marry prematurely.
But Odin, who had
found that nothing served the wishes of lovers more than
tough persistency, though he was stung with the shame of his
double rebuff, nevertheless, effacing the form he had worn
before, went to the king for the third time, professing the
completest skill in soldiership. He was led to take this
pains not only by pleasure but by the wish to wipe out his
disgrace. For of old those who were skilled in magic gained
this power of instantly changing their aspect and exhibiting
the most different shapes. Indeed, they were clever at
imitating any age, not only in its natural bodily
appearance, but also in its stature; and so the old man, in
order to exhibit his calling agreeably, used to ride proudly
up and down among the briskest of them. But not even such a
tribute could move the rigour of the maiden; for it is hard
for the mind to come back to a genuine liking for one
against whom it has once borne heavy dislike. When he tried
to kiss her at his departure, she repulsed him so that he
tottered and smote his chin upon the ground. Straightway he
touched her with a piece of bark whereon spells were
written, and made her like unto one in frenzy: which was a
gentle revenge to take for all the insults he had received.
But still he did
not falter in the fulfilment of his purpose; for trust in
his divine majesty buoyed him up with confidence; so,
assuming the garb of a maiden, this indefatigable journeyer
repaired for the fourth time to the king, and, on being
received by him, showed himself assiduous and even forward.
Most people believed him to be a woman, as he was dressed
almost in female attire. Also he declared that his name wa s
Wecha, and his calling that of a physician: and this
assertion he confirmed by the readiest services. At last he
was taken into the household of the queen, and played the
part of a waiting-woman to the princess, and even used to
wash the soil off her feet at eventide; and as he was
applying the water he was suffered to touch her calves and
the upper part of the thighs. But fortune goes with mutable
steps, and thus chance put into his hand what his address
had never won. For it happened that the girl fell sick, and
looked around for a cure; and she summoned to protect her
health those very hands which aforetime she had rejected,
and appealed for preservation to him whom she had ever held
in loathing. He examined narrowly all the symptoms of the
trouble, and declared that, in order to check the disease as
soon as possible, it was needful to use a certain drugged
draught; but that it was so bitterly compounded, that the
girl could never endure so violent a cure unless she
submitted to be bound; since the stuff of the malady must be
ejected from the very innermost tissues. When her father
heard this he did not hesitate to bind his daughter; and
laying her on the bed, he bade her endure patiently all the
applications of the doctor. For the king was tricked by the
sight of the female dress, which the old man was using to
disguise his persistent guile; and thus the seeming remedy
became an opportunity of outrage. For the physician seized
the chance of love, and, abandoning his business of healing,
sped to the work, not of expelling the fever, but of working
his lust; making use of the sickness of the princess, whom
in sound health he had found adverse to him. It will not be
wearisome if I subjoin another version of this affair. For
there are certain who say that the king, when he saw the
physician groaning with love, but despite all his expense of
mind and body accomplishing nothing, did not wish to rob of
his due reward one who had so well earned it, and allowed
him to lie privily with his daughter. So doth the wickedness
of the father sometimes assail the child, when vehement
passion perverts natural mildness. But his fault was soon
followed by a remorse that was full of shame, when his
daughter bore a child.
But the gods, whose
chief seat was then at Byzantium, (Asgard), seeing that Odin
had tarnished the fair name of godhead by divers injuries to
its majesty, thought that he ought to be removed from their
society. And they had him not only ousted from the headship,
but outlawed and stripped of all worship and honour at home;
thinking it better that the power of their infamous
president should be overthrown than that public religion
should be profaned; and fearing that they might themselves
be involved in the sin of another, and though guiltless be
punished for the crime of the guilty. For they saw that, now
the derision of their great god was brought to light, those
whom they had lured to proffer them divine honours were
exchanging obeisance for scorn and worship for shame; that
holy rites were being accounted sacrilege, and fixed and
regular ceremonies deemed so much childish raving. Fear was
in their souls, death before their eyes, and one would have
supposed that the fault of one was visited upon the heads of
all. So, not wishing Odin to drive public religion into
exile, they exiled him and put one Oller (Wulder?) in his
place, to bear the symbols not only Of royalty but also of
godhead, as though it had been as easy a task to create a
god as a king. And though they had appointed him priest for
form's sake, they endowed him actually with full
distinction, that he might be seen to be the lawful heir to
the dignity, and no mere deputy doing another's work. Also,
to omit no circumstance of greatness, they further gave his
the name of Odin, trying by the prestige of that title to be
rid of the obloquy of innovation. For nearly ten years Oller
held the presidency of the divine senate; but at last the
gods pitied the horrible exile of Odin, and thought that he
had now been punished heavily enough; so he exchanged his
foul and unsightly estate for his ancient splendour; for the
lapse of time had now wiped out the brand of his earlier
disgrace. Yet some were to be found who judged that he was
not worthy to approach and resume his rank, because by his
stage-tricks and his assumption of a woman's work he had
brought the foulest scandal on the name of the gods. Some
declare that he bought back the fortune of his lost divinity
with money; flattering some of the gods and mollifying some
with bribes; and that at the cost of a vast sum he contrived
to get back to the distinction which he had long quitted. If
you ask how much he paid for them, inquire of those who have
found out what is the price of a godhead. I own that to me
it is but little worth.
Thus Oller was
driven out from Byzantium by Odin and retired into Sweden.
Here, while he was trying, as if in a new world, to repair
the records of his glory, the Danes slew him. The story goes
that he was such a cunning wizard that he used a certain
bone, which he had marked with awful spells, wherewith to
cross the seas, instead of a vessel; and that by this bone
he passed over the waters that barred his way as quickly as
by rowing.
But Odin, now that
he had regained the emblems of godhead, shone over all parts
of the world with such a lustre of renown that all nations
welcomed him as though he were light restored to the
universe; nor was any spot to be found on the earth which
did not hornage to his might. Then finding that Boe, his son
by Rhlda, was enamoured of the hardships of war, he called
him, and bade him bear in mind the slaying of his brother:
saying that it would be better for him to take vengeande on
the murderers of Balder than to overcome the im~occ~}t in
battle; for warfare was most fitting and wholesome when a
holy occ,tsion fot' waging it was furnished by a righteous
opening for vengeande.
News came meantime
that Gewar had been slain by the guile of his own satrap
(jarl), Gunne. Hother determined to visit his murder with
the strongest and sharpest revenge. So he surprised Gunne,
cast him on a blazing pyre, and burnt him; for Gunne had
himself treacherously waylaid Gewar, and burnt him alive in
the night. This was his offering of vengeance to the shade
of his foster- father; and then he made his sons, Herlek and
Gerit, rulers of Norway.
Then he summoned
the elders to assembly, and told them that he would perish
in the war wherein he was bound to meet Boe, and said that
he knew this by no doubtful guesswork, but by sure
prophecies of seers. So he besought them to make his son
RORIK king, so that the judgment of wicked men should not
transfer the royalty to strange and unknown houses; averring
that he would reap more joy from the succession of his son
than bitterness from his own impending death. This request
was speedily granted. Then he met Boe in battle and was
killed; but small joy the victory gave Boe. Indeed, he left
the battle so sore stricken that he was lifted on his shield
and carried home by his foot- soldiers supporting him in
turn, to perish next day of the pain of his wounds. The
Ruthenian army gave his body a gorgeous funeral and buried
it in a splendid howe, which it piled in his name, to save
the record of so mighty a warrior from slipping out of the
recollection of after ages.
So the Kurlanders
and the Swedes, as though the death of Hother set them free
from the burden of their subjection, resolved to attack
Denmark, to which they were accustomed to do homage with a
yearly tax. By this the Slavs also were emboldened to
revolt, and a number of others were turned from subjects
into foes. Rorik, in order to check this wrongdoing,
summoned his country to arms, recounted the deeds of his
forefathers, and urged them in a passionate harangue unto
valorous deeds. But the barbarians, loth to engage without a
general, and seeing that they needed a head, appointed a
king over them; and, displaying all the rest of their
military force, hid two companies of armed men in a dark
spot. But Rorik saw the trap; and perceiving that his fleet
was wedged in a certain narrow creek among the shoal water,
took it out from the sands where it was lying, and brought
it forth to sea; lest it should strike on the oozy swamps,
and be attacked by the foe on different sides. Also, he
resolved that his men should go into hiding during the day,
where they could stay and suddenly fall on the invaders of
his ships. He said that perchance the guile might in the end
recoil on the heads of its devisors. And in fact the
barbarians who had been appointed to the ambuscade knew
nothing of the wariness of the Danes, and sallying against
them rashly, were all destroyed. The remaining force of the
Slavs, knowing nothing of the slaughter of their friends,
hung in doubt wondering over the reason of Rorik's tarrying.
And after waiting long for him as the months wearily rolled
by, and finding delay every day more burdensome, they at
last thought they should attack him with their fleet.
Now among them
there was a man of remarkable stature, a wizard by calling.
He, when he beheld the squadrons of the Danes, said: "Suffer
a private combat to forestall a public slaughter, so that
the danger of many may be bought off at the cost of a few.
And if any of you shall take heart to fight it out with me,
I will not flinch from these terms of conflict. But first of
all I demand that you accept the terms I prescribe, the form
whereof I have devised as follows: If I conquer, let freedom
be granted us from taxes; if I am conquered, let the tribute
be paid you as of old: For to-day I will either free my
country from the yoke of slavery by my victory or bind her
under it by my defeat. Accept me as the surety and the
pledge for either issue." One of the Danes, whose spirit was
stouter than his strength, heard this, and proceeded to ask
Rorik, what would be the reward for the man who met the
challenger in combat? Rorik chanced to have six bracelets,
which were so intertwined that they could not be parted from
one another, the chain of knots being inextricaly laced; and
he promised them as a reward for the man who would venture
on the combat. But the youth, who doubted his fortune, said:
"Rorik, if I prove successful, let thy generosity award the
prize of the conqueror, do thou decide and allot the palm;
but if my enterprise go little to my liking, what prize
canst thou owe to the beaten, who will be wrapped either in
cruel death or in bitter shame? These things commonly go
with feebleness, these are the wages of the defeated, for
whom naught remains but utter infamy. What guerdon must be
paid, what thanks offered, to him who lacks the prize of
courage? Who has ever garlanded with ivy the weakling in
War, or decked him with a conqueror's wage? Valour wins the
prize, not sloth, and failure lacks renown. For one is
followed by triumph and honour, the other by an unsightly
life or by a stagnant end. I, who know not which way the
issue of this duel inclines, dare not boldly anticipate that
as a reward, of which I know not whether it be rightly mine.
For one whose victory is doubtful may not seize the assured
reward of the victor. I forbear, while I am not sure of the
day, to claim firmly the title to the wreath. I refuse the
gain, which may be the wages of my death as much as of my
life. It is folly to lay hands on the fruit before it is
ripe, and to be fain to pluck that which one is not yet sure
is one's title. This hand shall win me the prize, or death."
Having thus spoken, he smote the barbarian with his sword;
but his fortune was tardier than his spirit; for the other
smote him back, and he fell dead under the force of the
first blow. Thus he was a sorry sight unto the Danes, but
the Slavs granted their triumphant comrade a great
procession, and received him with splendid dances. On the
morrow the same man, whether he was elated with the good
fortune of his late victory, or was fired with the wish to
win another, came close to the enemy, and set to girding at
them in the words of his former challenge. For, supposing
that he had laid low the bravest of the Danes, he did not
think that any of them would have any heart left to fight
further with him upon his challenge. Also, trusting that,
now one champion had fallen, he had shattered the strength
of the whole army, he thought that naught would be hard to
achieve upon which his later endeavours were bent. For
nothing pampers arrogance more than success, or prompts to
pride more surely than prosperity.
So Rorik was vexed
that the general courage should be sapped by the impudence
of one man; and that the Danes, with their roll of
victories, should be met presumptuously by those whom they
had beaten of old; nay, should be ignominiously spurned;
further, that in all that host not one man should be found
so quick of spirit or so vigorous of arm, that he longed to
sacrifice his life for his country. It was the high-hearted
Ubbe who first wiped off this infamous reproach upon the
hesitating Danes. For he was of great bodily strength and
powerful in incantations. He also purposely asked the prize
of the combat, and the king promised him the bracelets. Then
said he: "How can I trust the promise when thou keepest the
pledge in thine own hands, and dost not deposit the gift in
the charge of another? Let there be some one to whom thou
canst entrust the pledge, that thou mayst not be able to
take thy promise back. For the courage of the champion is
kindled by the irrevocable certainty of the prize." Of
course it was plain that he had said this in jest; sheer
courage had armed him to repel the insult to his country.
But Rorik thought he was tempted by avarice, and was loth to
seem as if, contrary to royal fashion, he meant to take back
the gift or revoke his promise; so, being stationed on his
vessel, he resolved to shake off the bracelets, and with a
mighty swing send them to the asker. But his attempt was
baulked by the width of the gap between them; for the
bracelets fell short of the intended spot, the impulse being
too faint and slack, and were reft away by the waters. For
this nickname of Slyngebond, (swing-bracelet) clung to
Rorik. But this event testified much to the valour of Ubbe.
For the loss of his drowned prize never turned his mind from
his bold venture; he would not seem to let his courage be
tempted by the wages of covetousness. So he eagerly went to
fight, showing that he was a seeker of honour and not thc
slave of lucre, and that he set bravery before lust of pelf;
and intent to prove that his confidence was based not on
hire, but on his own great soul. Not a moment is lost; a
ring is made; the course is thronged with soldiers; the
champions engage; a din arises; the crowd of onlookers
shouts in discord, each backing his own. And so the valour
of the champions blazes to white-heat; falling dead under
the wounds dealt by one another, they end together the
combat and their lives. I think that it was a provision of
fortune that neither of them should reap joy and honour by
the other's death. This event won back to Rorik the hearts
of the insurgents and regained him the tribute.
At this time
Horwendil and Feng, whose father Gerwendil had been governor
of the Jutes, were appointed in his place by Rorik to defend
Jutland. But Horwendil held the monarchy for three years,
and then, to will the height of glory, devoted himself to
roving. Then Koller, King of Norway, in rivalry of his great
deeds and renown, deemed it would be a handsome deed if by
his greater strength in arms he could bedim the far-famed
glory of the rover; and cruising about the sea, he watched
for Horwendil's fleet and came up with it. There was an
island lying in the middle of the sea, which each of the
rovers, bringing his ships up on either side, was holding.
The captains were tempted by the pleasant look of the beach,
and the comeliness of the shores led them to look through
the interior of the springtide woods, to go through the
glades, and roam over the sequestered forests. It was here
that the advance of Koller and Horwendil brought them face
to face without any witness. Then Horwendil endeavoured to
address the king first, asking him in what way it was his
pleasure to fight, and declaring that one best which needed
the courage of as few as possible. For, said he, the duel
was the surest of all modes of combat for winning the meed
of bravery, because it relied only upon native courage, and
excluded all help from the hand of another. Koller marvelled
at so brave a judgment in a youth, and said: "Since thou
hast granted me the choice of battle, I think it is best to
employ that kind which needs only the endeavours of two, and
is free from all the tumult. Certainly it is more
venturesome, and allows of a speedier award of the victory.
This thought we share, in this opinion we agree of our own
accord. But since the issue remains doubtful, we must pay
some regard to gentle dealing, and must not give way so far
to our inclinations as to leave the last offices undone.
Hatred is in our hearts; yet let piety be there also, which
in its due time may take the place of rigour. For the rights
of nature reconcile us, though we are parted by differences
of purpose; they link us together, howsoever rancour
estrange our spirit. Let us, therefore, have this pious
stipulation, that the conqueror shall give funeral rites to
the conquered. For all allow that these are the last duties
of human kind, from which no righteous man shrinks. Let each
army lay aside its sternness and perform this function in
harmony. Let jealousy depart at death, let the feud be
buried in the tomb. Let us not show such an example of
cruelty as to persecute one another's dust, though hatred
has come between us in our lives. It will be a boast for the
victor if he has borne his beaten foe in a lordly funeral.
For the man who pays the rightful dues over his dead enemy
wins the goodwill of the survivor; and whoso devotes gentle
dealing to him who is no more, conquers the living by his
kindness. Also there is another disaster, not less
lamentable, which sometimes befalls the living -- the loss
of some part of their body; and I think that succor is due
to this just as much as to the worst hap that may befall.
For often those who fight keep their lives safe, but suffer
maiming; and this lot is commonly thought more dismal than
any death; for death cuts off memory of all things, while
the living cannot forget the devastation of his own body.
Therefore this mischief also must be helped somehow; so let
it be agreed, that the injury of either of us by the other
shall be made good with ten talents (marks) of gold. For if
it be righteous to have compassion on the calamities of
another, how much more is it to pity one's own? No man but
obeys nature's prompting; and he who slights it is a
self-murderer."
After mutually
pledging their faiths to these terms, they began the battle.
Nor was their strangeness his meeting one another, nor the
sweetness of that spring-green spot, so heeded as to prevent
them from the fray. Horwendil, in his too great ardour,
became keener to attack his enemy than to defend his own
body; and, heedless of his shield, had grasped his sword
with both hands; and his boldness did not fail. For by his
rain of blows he destroyed Koller's shield and deprived him
of it, and at last hewed off his foot and drove him lifeless
to the ground. Then, not to fail of his compact, he buried
him royally, gave him a howe of lordly make and pompous
obsequies. Then he pursued and slew Koller's sister Sela,
who was a skilled warrior and experienced in roving.
He had now passed
three years in valiant deeds of war; and, in order to win
higher rank in Rorik's favour, he assigned to him the best
trophies and the pick of the plunder. His friendship with
Rorik enabled him to woo and will in marriage his daughter
Gerutha, who bore him a son Amleth.
Such great good
fortune stung Feng with jealousy, so that he resolved
treacherously to waylay his brother, thus showing that
goodness is not safe even from those of a man's own house.
And behold, when a chance came to murder him, his bloody
hand sated the deadly passion of his soul. Then he took the
wife of the brother he had butchered, capping unnatural
murder with incest. For whoso yields to one iniquity,
speedily falls an easier victim to the next, the first being
an incentive to the second. Also, the man veiled the
monstrosity of his deed with such hardihood of cunning, that
he made up a mock pretence of goodwill to excuse his crime,
and glossed over fratricide with a show of righteousness.
Gerutha, said he, though so gentle that she would do no man
the slightest hurt, had been visited with her husband's
extremest hate; and it was all to save her that he had slain
his brother; for he thought it shameful that a lady so meek
and unrancorous should suffer the heavy disdain of her
husband. Nor did his smooth words fail in their intent; for
at courts, where fools are sometimes favoured and backbiters
preferred, a lie lacks not credit. Nor did Feng keep from
shameful embraces the hands that had slain a brother;
pursuing with equal guilt both of his wicked and impious
deeds.
Amleth beheld all
this, but feared lest too shrewd a behaviour might make his
uncle suspect him. So he chose to feign dulness, and pretend
an utter lack of wits. This cunning course not only
concealed his intelligence but ensured his safety. Every day
he remained in his mother's house utterly listless and
unclean, flinging himself on the ground and bespattering his
person with foul and filthy dirt. His discoloured face and
visage smutched with slime denoted foolish and grotesque
madness. All he said was of a piece with these follies; all
he did savoured of utter lethargy. In a word, you would not
have thought him a man at all, but some absurd abortion due
to a mad fit of destiny. He used at times to sit over the
fire, and, raking up the embers with his hands, to fashion
wooden crooks, and harden them in the fire, shaping at their
lips certain barbs, to make them hold more tightly to their
fastenings. When asked what he was about, he said that he
was preparing sharp javelins to avenge his father. This
answer was not a little scoffed at, all men deriding his
idle and ridiculous pursuit; but the thing helped his
purpose afterwards. Now it was his craft in this matter that
first awakened in the deeper observers a suspicion of his
cunning. For his skill in a trifling art betokened the
hidden talent of the craftsman; nor could they believe the
spirit dull where the hand had acquired so cunning a
workmanship. Lastly, he always watched with the most
punctual care over his pile of stakes that he had pointed in
the fire. Some people, therefore, declared that his mind was
quick enough, and fancied that he only played the simpleton
in order to hide his understanding, and veiled some deep
purpose under a cunning feint. His wiliness (said these)
would be most readily detected, if a fair woman were put in
his way in some secluded place, who should provoke his mind
to the temptations of love; all men's natural temper being
too blindly amorous to be artfully dissembled, and this
passion being also too impetuous to be checked by cunning.
Therefore, if his lethargy were feigned, he would seize the
opportunity, and yield straightway to violent delights. So
men were commissioned to draw the young man in his rides
into a remote part of the forest, and there assail him with
a temptation of this nature. Among these chanced to be a
foster-brother of Amleth, who had not ceased to have regard
to their common nurture; and who esteemed his present orders
less than the memory of their past fellowship. He attended
Amleth among his appointed train, being anxious not to
entrap, but to warn him; and was persuaded that he would
suffer the worst if he showed the slightest glimpse of sound
reason, and above all if he did the act of love openly. This
was also plain enough to Amleth himself. For when he was
bidden mount his horse, he deliberately set himself in such
a fashion that he turned his back to the neck and faced
about, fronting the tail; which he proceeded to encompass
with the reins, just as if on that side he would check the
horse in its furious pace. By this cunning thought he eluded
the trick, and overcame the treachery of his uncle. The
reinless steed galloping on, with rider directing its tail,
was ludicrous enough to behold.
Amleth went on, and
a wolf crossed his path amid the thicket. When his
companions told him that a young colt had met him, he
retorted, that in Feng's stud there were too few of that
kind fighting. This was a gentle but witty fashion of
invoking a curse upon his uncle's riches. When they averred
that he had given a cunning answer, he answered that he had
spoken deliberately; for he was loth, to be thought prone to
lying about any matter, and wished to be held a stranger to
falsehood; and accordingly he mingled craft and candour in
such wise that, though his words did lack truth, yet there
was nothing to betoken the truth and betray how far his
keenness went.
Again, as he passed
along the beach, his companions found the rudder of a ship,
which had been wrecked, and said they had discovered a huge
knife. "This," said he, "was the right thing to carve such a
huge ham;" by which he really meant the sea, to whose
infinitude, he thought, this enormous rudder matched. Also,
as they passed the sandhills, and bade him look at the meal,
meaning the sand, he replied that it had been ground small
by the hoary tempests of the ocean. His companions praising
his answer, he said that he had spoken it wittingly. Then
they purposely left him, that he might pluck up more courage
to practise wantonness. The woman whom his uncle had
dispatched met him in a dark spot, as though she had crossed
him by chance; and he took her and would have ravished her,
had not his foster- brother, by a secret device, given him
an inkling of the trap. For this man, while pondering the
fittest way to play privily the prompter's part, and
forestall the young man's hazardous lewdness, found a straw
on the ground and fastened it underneath the tail of a
gadfly that was flying past; which he then drove towards the
particular quarter where he knew Amleth to be: an act which
served the unwary prince exceedingly well. The token was
interpreted as shrewdly as it had been sent. For Amleth saw
the gadfly, espied with curiosity the straw which it wore
embedded in its tail, and perceived that it was a secret
warning to beware of treachery. Alarmed, scenting a trap,
and fain to possess his desire in greater safety, he caught
up the woman in his arms and dragged her off to a distant
and impenetrable fen. Moreover, when they had lain together,
he conjured her earnestly to disclose the matter to none,
and the promise of silence was accorded as heartily as it
was asked. For both of them had been under the same
fostering in their childhood; and this early rearing in
common had brought Amleth and the girl into great intimacy.
So, when he had
returned home, they all jeeringly asked him whether he had
given way to love, and he avowed that he had ravished the
maid. When he was next asked where he did it, and what had
been his pillow, he said that he had rested upon the hoof of
a beast of burden, upon a cockscomb, and also upon a
ceiling. For, when he was starting into temptation, he had
gathered fragments of all these things, in order to avoid
lying. And though his jest did not take aught of the truth
out of the story, the answer was greeted with shouts of
merriment from the bystanders. The maiden, too, when
questioned on the matter, declared that he had done no such
thing; and her denial was the more readily credited when it
was found that the escort had not witnessed the deed. Then
he who had marked the gadfly in order to give a hint,
wishing to show Amleth that to his trick he owed his
salvation, observed that latterly he had been singly devoted
to Amleth. The young man's reply was apt. Not to seem
forgetful of his informant's service, he said that he had
seen a certain thing bearing a straw flit by suddenly,
wearing a stalk of chaff fixed in its hinder parts. The
cleverness of this speech, which made the rest split with
laughter, rejoiced the heart of Amleth's friend.
Thus all were
worsted, and none could open the secret lock of the young
man's wisdom. But a friend of Feng, gifted more with
assurance than judgment, declared that the unfathomable
cunning of such a mind could not be detected by any vulgar
plot, for the man's obstinacy was so great that it ought not
to be assailed with any mild measures; there were many sides
to his wiliness, and it ought not to be entrapped by any one
method. Accordingly, said he, his own profounder acuteness
had hit on a more delicate way, which was well fitted to be
put in practice, and would effectually discover what they
desired to know. Feng was purposely to absent himself,
pretending affairs of great import. Amleth should be
closeted alone with his mother in her chamber; but a man
should first be commissioned to place himself in a concealed
part of the room and listen heedfully to what they talked
about. For if the son had any wits at all he would not
hesitate to speak out in the hearing of his mother, or fear
to trust himself to the fidelity of her who bore him. The
speaker, loth to seem readier to devise than to carry out
the plot, zealously proffered himself as the agent of the
eavesdropping. Feng rejoiced at the scheme, and departed on
pretence of a long journey. Now he who had given this
counsel repaired privily to the room where Amleth was shut
up with his mother, and lay flown skulking in the straw. But
Amleth had his antidote for the treachery. Afraid of being
overheard by some eavesdropper, he at first resorted to his
usual imbecile ways, and crowed like a noisy cock, beating
his arms together to mimic the flapping of wings. Then he
mounted the straw and began to swing his body and jump again
and again, wishing to try if aught lurked there in hiding.
Feeling a lump beneath his feet, he drove his sword into the
spot, and impaled him who lay hid. Then he dragged him from
his concealment and slew him. Then, cutting his body into
morsels, he seethed it in boiling water, and flung it
through the mouth of an open sewer for the swine to eat,
bestrewing the stinking mire with his hapless limbs. Having
in this wise eluded the snare, he went back to the room.
Then his mother set up a great wailing, and began to lament
her son's folly to his face; but he said: "Most infamous of
women; dost thou seek with such lying lamentations to hide
thy most heavy guilt? Wantoning like a harlot, thou hast
entered a wicked and abominable state of wedlock, embracing
with incestuous bosom thy husband's slayer, and wheedling
with filthy lures of blandishment him who had slain the
father of thy son. This, forsooth, is the way that the mares
couple with the vanquishers of their mates; for brute beasts
are naturally incited to pair indiscriminately; and it would
seem that thou, like them, hast clean forgot thy first
husband. As for me, not idly do I wear the mask of folly;
for I doubt not that he who destroyed his brother will riot
as ruthlessly in the blood of his kindred. Therefore it is
better to choose the garb of dulness than that of sense, and
to borrow some protection from a show of utter frenzy. Yet
the passion to avenge my father still burns in my heart; but
I am watching the chances, I await the fitting hour. There
is a place for all things; against so merciless and dark
spirit must be used the deeper devices of the mind. And
thou, who hadst been better employed in lamenting thine own
disgrace, know it is superfluity to bewail my witlessness;
thou shouldst weep for the blemish in thine own mind, not
for that in another's. On the rest see thou keep silence."
With such reproaches he rent the heart of his mother and
redeemed her to walk in the ways of virtue; teaching her to
set the fires of the past above the seductions of the
present.
When Feng returned,
nowhere could he find the man who had suggested the
treacherous espial; he searched for him long and carefully,
but none said they had seen him anywhere. Amleth, among
others, was asked in jest if he had come on any trace of
him, and replied that the man had gone to the sewer, but had
fallen through its bottom and been stifled by the floods of
filth, and that he had then been devoured by the swine that
came up all about that place. This speech was flouted by
those who heard; for it seemed senseless, though really it
expressly avowed the truth.
Feng now suspected
that his stepson was certainly full of guile, and desired to
make away with him, but durst not do the deed for fear of
the displeasure, not only of Amleth's grandsire Rorik, but
also of his own wife. So he thought that the King of Britain
should be employed to slay him, so that another could do the
deed, and he be able to feign innocence. Thus, desirous to
hide his cruelty, he chose rather to besmirch his friend
than to bring disgrace on his own head. Amleth, on
departing, gave secret orders to his mother to hang the hall
with woven knots, and to perform pretended obsequies for him
a year thence; promising that he would then return. Two
retainers of Feng then accompanied him, bearing a letter
graven on wood -- a kind of writing material frequent in old
times; this letter enjoined the king of the Britons to put
to death the youth who was sent over to him. While they were
reposing, Amleth searched their coffers, found the letter,
and read the instructions therein. Whereupon he erased all
the writing on the surface, substituted fresh characters,
and so, changing the purport of the instructions, shifted
his own doom upon his companions. Nor was he satisfied with
removing from himself the sentence of death and passing the
beril on to others, but added an entreaty that the King of
Britain would grant his daughter in marriage to a youth of
great judgment whom he was sending to him. Under this was
falsely marked the signature of Feng.
Now when they had
reached Britain, the envoys went to the king, and proffered
him the letter which they supposed was an implement of
destruction to another, but which really betokened death to
themselves. The king dissembled the truth, and entreated
them hospitably and kindly. Then Amleth scouted all the
splendour of the royal banquet like vulgar viands, and
abstaining very strangely, rejected that plenteous feast,
refraining from the drink even as from the banquet. All
marvelled that a youth and a foreigner should disdain the
carefully cooked dainties of the royal board and the
luxurious banquet provided, as if it were some peasant's
relish. So, when the revel broke up, and the king was
dismissing his friends to rest, he had a man sent into the
sleeping-room to listen secretly, in order that he might
hear the midnight conversation of his guests. Now, when
Amleth's companions asked him why he had refrained from the
feast of yestereve, as if it were poison, he answered that
the bread was flecked with blood and tainted; that there was
a tang of iron in the liquor; while the meats of the feast
reeked of the stench of a human carcase, and were infected
by a kind of smack of the odour of the charnel. He further
said that the king had the eyes of a slave, and that the
queen had in three ways shown the behaviour of a bondmaid.
Thus he reviled with insulting invective not so much the
feast as its givers. And presently his companions, taunting
him with his old defect of wits, began to flout him with
many saucy jeers, because he blamed and cavilled at seemly
and worthy things, and because he attacked thus ignobly an
illustrous king and a lady of so refined a behaviour,
bespattering with the shamefullest abuse those who merited
all praise.
All this the king
heard from his retainer; and declared that he who could say
such things had either more than mortal wisdom or more than
mortal folly; in these few words fathoming the full depth of
Amleth's penetration. Then he summoned his steward and asked
him whence he had procured the bread. The steward declared
that it had been made by the king's own baker. The king
asked where the corn had grown of which it was made, and
whether any sign was to be found there of human carnage? The
other answered, that not far off was a field, covered with
the ancient bones of slaughtered men, and still bearing
plainly all the signs of ancient carnage; and that he had
himself planted this field with grain in springtide,
thinking it more fruitful than the rest, and hoping for
plenteous abundance; and so, for aught he knew, the bread
had caught some evil savour from this bloodshed. The king,
on hearing this, surmised that Amleth had spoken truly, and
took the pains to learn also what had been the source of the
lard. The other declared that his hogs had, through
negligence, strayed from keeping, and battened on the rotten
carcase of a robber, and that perchance their pork had thus
come to have something of a corrupt smack. The king, finding
that Amlet11's judgment was right in this thing also, asked
of what liquor the steward had mixed the drink? Hearing that
it had been brewed of water and meal, he had the spot of the
spring pointed out to him, and set to digging deep down; and
there he found, rusted away, several swords, the tang
whereof it was thought had tainted the waters. Others relate
that Amleth blamed the drink because, while quaffing it, he
had detected some bees that had fed in the paunch of a dead
man; and that the taint, which had formerly been imparted to
the combs, had reappeared in the taste. The king, seeing
that Amleth had rightly given the causes of the taste he had
found so faulty, and learning that the ignoble eyes
wherewith Amleth had reproached him concerned some stain
upon his birth, had a secret interview with his mother, and
asked her who his father had really been. She said she had
submitted to no man but the king. But when he threatened
that he would have the truth out of her by a trial, he was
told that he was the offspring of a slave. By the evidence
of the avowal thus extorted he understood the whole mystery
of the reproach upon his origin. Abashed as he was with
shame for his low estate, he was so ravished with the young
man's cleverness, that he asked him why he had aspersed the
queen with the reproach that she had demeaned herself like a
slave? But while resenting that the courtliness of his wife
had been accused in the midnight gossip of guest, he found
that her mother had been a bondmaid. For Amleth said he had
noted in her three blemishes showing the demeanor of a
slave; first, she had muffled her head in her mantle as
handmaids do; next, that she had gathered up her gown for
walking; and thirdly, that she had first picked out with a
splinter, and then chewed up, the remnant of food that stuck
in the crevices between her teeth. Further, he mentioned
that the king's mother had been brought into slavery from
captivity, lest she should seem servile only in her habits,
yet not in her birth.
Then the king
adored the wisdom of Amleth as though it were inspired, and
gave him his daughter to wife; accepting his bare word as
though it were a witness from the skies. Moreover, in order
to fulfil the bidding of his friend, he hanged Amleth's
companions on the morrow. Amleth, feigning offence, treated
this piece of kindness as a grievance, and received from the
king, as compensation, some gold, which he afterwards melted
in the fire, and secretly caused to be poured into some
hollowed sticks.
When he had passed
a whole year with the king he obtained leave to make a
journey, and returned to his own land, carrying away of all
his princely wealth and state only the sticks which held the
gold. On reaching Jutland, he exchanged his present attire
for his ancient demeanour, which he had adopted for
righteous ends, purposely assuming an aspect of absurdity.
Covered with filth, he entered the banquet-room where his
own obsequies were being held, and struck all men utterly
aghast, rumour having falsely noised abroad his death. At
last terror melted into mirth, and the guests jeered and
taunted one another, that he whose last rites they were
celebrating as through he were dead, should appear in the
flesh. When he was asked concerning his comrades, he pointed
to the sticks he was carrying, and said, "Here is both the
one and the other." This he observed with equal truth and
pleasantry; for his speech, though most thought it idle, yet
departed not from the truth; for it pointed at the weregild
of the slain as though it were themselves. Thereon, wishing
to bring the company into a gayer mood, he jollied the
cupbearers, and diligently did the office of plying the
drink. Then, to prevent his loose dress hampering his walk,
he girdled his sword upon his side, and purposely drawing it
several times, pricked his fingers with its point. The
bystantlers accordingly had both sword and scabbard riveted
across with all iron nail. Then, to smooth the way more
safely to his plot, he went to the lords and plied them
heavily with draught upon draught, and drenched them all so
deep in wine, that their feet were made feeble with
drunkenness, and they turned to rest within the palace,
making their bed where they had revelled. Then he saw they
were in a fit state for his plots, and thought that here was
a chance offered to do his purpose. So he took out of his
bosom the stakes he has long ago prepared, and went into the
building, where the ground lay covered with the bodies of
the nobles wheezing off their sleep and their debauch. Then,
cutting away its support, he brought dlown the hanging his
mother had knitted, which covered the inner as well as the
outer walls of the hall. This he flung upon the snorers, and
then applying the crooked stakes, he knotted and bound them
up in such insoluble intricacy, that not one of the men
beneath, however hard he might struggle, could contrive to
rise. After this he set fire to the palace. The flames
spread, scattering the conflagration far and wide. It
enveloped the whole dwelling, destroyed the palace, and
burnt them all while they were either buried in deep sleep
or vainly striving to arise. Then he went to the chamber of
Feng, who had before this been conducted by his train into
his pavilion; plucked up a sword that chanced to be hanging
to the bed, and planted his own in its place. Then,
awakening his uncle, he told him that his nobles were
perishing in the flames, and that Amleth was here, armed
with his crooks to help him, and thirsting to exact the
vengeance, now long overdue, for his father's murder. Feng,
on hearing this, leapt from his couch, but was cut down
while deprived of his own sword, and as he strove in vain to
draw the strange one. O valiant Amleth, and worthy of
immortal fame, who being shrewdly armed with a feint of
folly, covered a wisdom too high for human wit under a
marvellous disguise of silliness! And not only found in his
subtlety means to protect his own safety, but also by its
guidance found opportunity to avenge his father. By this
skilful defence of himself, and strenuous revenge for his
parent, he has left it doubtful whether we are to think more
of his wit or his bravery. (3)
ENDNOTES:
(1) Saxo now goes back to the history of Denmark. All the
events hitherto related in Bk. III, after the first
paragraph, are a digression in retrospect.
(2) M. conjectures that this was a certain Harald, the
bastard son of Erik the Good, and a wild and dissolute man,
who died in 1135, not long before the probable date of
Saxo's birth.
(3) Shakespere's tragedy, "Hamlet", is derived from this
story.
BOOK FOUR
Amleth, when he had
accomplished the slaughter of his stepfather, feared to
expose his deed to the fickle judgment of his countrymen,
and thought it well to lie in hiding till he had learnt what
way the mob of the uncouth populace was tending. So the
whole neighbourhood, who had watched the blaze during the
night, and in the morning desired to know the cause of the
fire they had seen, perceived the royal palace fallen in
ashes; and, on searching through its ruins, which were yet
warm, found only some shapeless remains of burnt corpses.
For the devouring flame had consumed everything so utterly
that not a single token was left to inform them of the cause
of such a disaster. Also they saw the body of Feng lying
pierced by the sword, amid his blood- stained raiment. Some
were seized with open anger, others with grief, and some
with secret delight. One party bewailed the death of their
leader, the other gave thanks that the tyranny of the
fratricide was now laid at rest. Thus the occurrence of the
king's slaughter was greeted by the beholders with diverse
minds.
Amleth, finding the
people so quiet, made bold to leave his hiding. Summoning
those in whom he knew the memory of his father to be
fast-rooted, he went to the assembly and there made a speech
after this manner:
"Nobles! Let not
any who are troubled by the piteous end of Horwendil be
worried by the sight of this disaster before you; be not ye,
I say, distressed, who have remained loyal to your king and
duteous to your father. Behold the corpse, not of a prince,
but of a fratricide. Indeed, it was a sorrier sight when ye
saw our prince lying lamentably butchered by a most infamous
fratricide-brother, let me not call him. With your own
compassionating eyes ye have beheld the mangled limbs of
Horwendil; they have seen his body done to death with many
wounds. Surely that most abominable butcher only deprived
his king of life that he might despoil his country of
freedom! The hand that slew him made you slaves. Who then so
mad as to choose Feng the cruel before Horwendil the
righteous? Remember how benignantly Horwendil fostered you,
how justly he dealt with you, how kindly he loved you.
Remember how you lost the mildest of princes and the justest
of fathers, while in his place was put a tyrant and an
assassin set up; how your rights were confiscated; how
everything was plague-stricken; how the country was stained
with infamies; how the yoke was planted on your necks, and
how, your free will was forfeited! And now all this is over;
for ye see the criminal stifled in his own crimes, the
slayer of his kin punished for his misdoings. What man of
but ordinary wit, beholding it, would account this kindness
a wrong? What sane man could be sorry that the crime has
recoiled upon the culprit? Who could lament the killing of a
most savage executioner? Or bewail the righteous death of a
most cruel despot? Ye behold the doer of the deed; he is
before you. Yea, I own that I have taken vengeance for my
country and my father. Your hands were equally bound to the
task which mine fulfilled. What it would have beseemed you
to accomplish with me, I achieved alone. Nor had I any
partner in so glorious a deed, or the service of any man to
help me. Not that I forget that you would have helped this
work, had I asked you; for doubtless you have remained loyal
to your king and loving to your prince. But I chose that the
wicked should be punished without imperilling you; I thought
that others need not set their shoulders to the burden when
I deemed mine strong enough to bear it. Therefore I consumed
all the others to ashes, and left only the trunk of Feng for
your hands to burn, so that on this at least you may wreak
all your longing for a righteous vengeance. Now haste up
speedily, heap the pyre, burn up the body of the wicked,
consume away his guilty limbs, scatter his sinful ashes,
strew broadcast his ruthless dust; let no urn or barrow
enclose the abominable remnants of his bones. Let no trace
of his fratricide remain; let there be no spot in his own
land for his tainted limbs; let no neighbourhood suck
infection from him; let not sea nor soil be defiled by
harboring his accursed carcase. I have done the rest; this
one loyal duty is left for you. These must be the tyrant's
obsequies, this the funeral procession of the fratricide. It
is not seemly that he who stripped his country of her
freedom should have his ashes covered by his country's
earth.
"Besides, why tell
again my own sorrows? Why count over my troubles? Why weave
the thread of my miseries anew? Ye know them more fully than
I myself. I, pursued to the death by my stepfather, scorned
by my mother, spat upon by friends, have passed my years in
pitiable wise, and my days in adversity; and my insecure
life has teemed with fear and perils. In fine, I passed
every season of my age wretchedly and in extreme calamity.
Often in your secret murmurings together you have sighed
over my lack of wits; there was none (you said) to avenge
the father, none to punish the fratricide. And in this I
found a secret testimony of your love; for I saw that the
memory of the King's murder had not yet faded from your
minds.
"Whose breast is so
hard that it can be softened by no fellow- feeling for what
I have felt? Who is so stiff and stony, that he is swayed by
no compassion for my griefs? Ye whose hands are clean of the
blood of Horwendil, pity your fosterling, be moved by my
calamities. Pity also my stricken mother, and rejoice with
me that the infamy of her who was once your queen is
quenched. For this weak woman had to bear a twofold weight
of ignominy, embracing one who was her husband's brother and
murderer. Therefore, to hide my purpose of revenge and to
veil my wit, I counterfeited a listless bearing; I feigned
dulness; I planned a stratagem; and now you can see with
your own eyes whether it has succeeded, whether it has
achieved its purpose to the full; I am content to leave you
to judge so great a matter. It is your turn; trample under
foot the ashes of the murderer! Disdain the dust of him who
slew his brother, and defiled his brother's queen with
infamous. desecration, who outraged his sovereign and
treasonably assailed his majesty, who brought the sharpest
tyranny upon you, stole your freedom, and crowned fratricide
with incest. I have been the agent of this just vengeance; I
have burned for this righteous retribution; uphold me with a
high-born spirit; pay me the homage that you owe; warm me
with your kindly looks. It is I who have wiped off my
country's shame; I who have quenched my mother's dishonour;
I who have beaten back oppression; I who have put to death
the murderer; I who have baffled the artful hand of my uncle
with retorted arts. Were he living, each new day would have
multiplied his crimes. I resented the wrong done to father
and to fatherland: I slew him who was governing you
outrageously and more hardly than it beseemed men.
Acknowledge my service, honour my wit, give me the throne if
I have earned it; for you have in me one who has done you a
mighty service, and who is no degenerate heir to his
father's power; no fratricide, but the lawful successor to
the throne; and a dutiful avenger of the crime of murder. It
is I who have stripped you of slavery, and clothed you with
freedom; I have restored your height of fortune, and given
you your glory back; I have deposed the despot and triumphed
over the butcher. In your hands is the reward; you know what
I have done for you, and from your righteousness I ask my
wage."
Every heart had
been moved while the young man thus spoke; he affected some
to compassion, and some even to tears. When the lamentation
ceased, he was appointed king by prompt and general acclaim.
For one and all rested their greatest hopes on his wisdom,
since he had devised the whole of such an achievement with
the deepest cunning, and accomplished it with the most
astonishing contrivance. Many could have been seen
marvelling how he had concealed so subtle a plan over so
long a space of time.
After these deeds
in Denmark, Amleth equipped three vessels, and went back to
Britain to see his wife and her father. He had also enrolled
in his service the flower of the warriors, and arrayed them
very choicely, wishing to have everything now magnificently
appointed, even as of old he had always worn contemptible
gear, and to change all his old devotion to poverty for
outlay on luxury. He also had a shield made for him, whereon
the whole series of his exploits, beginning with his
earliest youth, was painted in exquisite designs. This he
bore as a record of his deeds of prowess, and gained great
increase of fame thereby. Here were to be seen depicted the
slaying of Horwendil; the fratricide and incest of Feng; the
infamous uncle, the whimsical nephew; the shapes of the
hooked stakes; the stepfather suspecting, the stepson
dissembling; the various temptations offered, and the woman
brought to beguile him; the gaping wolf; the finding of the
rudder; the passing of the sand; the entering of the wood;
the putting of the straw through the gadfly; the warning of
the youth by the tokens; and the privy dealings with the
maiden after the escort was eluded. And likewise could be
seen the picture of the palace; the queen there with her
son; the slaying of the eavesdropper; and how, after being
killed, he was boiled down, and so dropped into the sewer,
and so thrown out to the swine; how his limbs were strewn in
the mud, and so left for the beasts to finish. Also it could
be seen how Amleth surprised the secret of his sleeping
attendants, how he erased the letters, and put new
characters in their places; how he disdained the banquet and
scorned the drink; how he condemned time face of the king
and taxed the Queen with faulty behaviour. There was also
represented the hanging of the envoys, and the young man's
wedding; then the voyage back to Denmark; the festive
celebration of the funeral rites; Amleth, in answer to
questions, pointing to the sticks in place of his
attendants, acting as cupbearer, and purposely drawing his
sword and pricking his fingers; the sword riveted through,
the swelling cheers of the banquet, the dance growing fast
and furious; the hangings flung upon the sleepers, then
fastened with the interlacing crooks, and wrapped tightly
round them as they slumbered; the brand set to the mansion,
the burning of the guests, the royal palace consumed with
fire and tottering down; the visit to the sleeping-room of
Feng, the theft of his sword, the useless one set in its
place; and the king slain with his own sword's point by his
stepson's hand. All this was there, painted upon Amleth's
battle-shield by a careful craftsman in the choicest of
handiwork; he copied truth in his figures, and embodied real
deeds in his outlines. Moreover, Amleth's followers, to
increase the splendour of their presence, wore shields which
were gilt over.
The King of Britain
received them very graciously, and treated them with costly
and royal pomp. During the feast he asked anxiously whether
Feng was alive and prosperous. His son-in-law told him that
the man of whose welfare he was vainly inquiring had
perished by the sword. With a flood of questions he tried to
find out who had slain Feng, and learnt that the messenger
of his death was likewise its author. And when the king
heard this, he was secretly aghast, because he found that an
old promise to avenge Feng now devolved upon himself. For
Feng and he had determined of old, by a mutual compact, that
one of them should act as avenger of the other. Thus the
king was drawn one way by his love for his daughter and his
affection for his son-in-law; another way by his regard for
his friend, and moreover by his strict oath and the sanctity
of their mutual declarations, which it was impious to
violate. At last he slighted the ties of kinship, and sworn
faith prevailed. His heart turned to vengeance, and he put
the sanctity of his oath before family bonds. But since it
was thought sin to wrong the holy ties of hospitality, he
preferred to execrate his revenge by the hand of another,
wishing to mask his secret crime with a show of innocence.
So he veiled his treachery with attentions, and hid his
intent to harm under a show of zealous goodwill. His queen
having lately died of illness, he requested Amleth to
undertake the mission of making him a fresh match, saying
that he was highly delighted with his extraordinary
shrewdness. He declared that there was a certain queen
reigning in Scotland, whom he vehemently desired to marry.
Now he knew that she was not only unwedded by reason of her
chastity, but that in the cruelty of her arrogance she had
always loathed her wooers, and had inflicted on her lovers
the uttermost punishment, so that not one but of all the
multitude was to be found who had not paid for his insolence
with his life.
Perilous as this
commission was Amleth started, never shrinking to obey the
duty imposed upon him, but trusting partly in his own
servants, and partly in the attendants of the king. He
entered Scotland, and, when quite close to the abode of the
queen, he went into a meadow by the wayside to rest his
horses. Pleased by the look of the spot, he thought of
resting -- the pleasant prattle of the stream exciting a
desire to sleep -- and posted men to keep watch some way
off. The queen on hearing of this, sent out ten warriors to
spy on the approach of the foreigners and their equipment.
One of these, being quick-witted, slipped past the sentries,
pertinaciously made his way up, and took away the shield,
which Amleth had chanced to set at his head before he slept,
so gently that he did not ruffle his slumbers, though he was
lying upon it, nor awaken one man of all that troop; for he
wished to assure his mistress not only by report but by some
token. With equal address he filched the letter entrusted to
Amleth from the coffer in which it was kept. When these
things were brought to the queen, she scanned the shield
narrowly, and from the notes appended made out the whole
argument. Then she knew that here was the man who, trusting
in his own nicely calculated scheme, had avenged on his
uncle the murder of his father. She also looked at the
letter containing the suit for her band, and rubbed out all
the writing; for wedlock with the old she utterly abhorred,
and desired the embraces of young men. But she wrote in its
place a commission purporting to be sent from the King of
Britain to herself, signed like the other with his name and
title, wherein she pretended that she was asked to marry the
bearer. Moreover, she included an account of the deeds of
which she had learnt from Amleth's shield, so that one would
have thought the shield confirmed the letter, while the
letter explained the shield. Then she told the same spies
whom she had employed before to take the shield back, and
put the letter in its place again; playing the very trick on
Amleth which, as she had learnt, he had himself used in
outwitting his companions.
Amleth, meanwhile,
who found that his shield had been filched from under his
head, deliberately shut his eyes and cunningly feigned
sleep, hoping to regain by pretended what he had lost by
real slumbers. For he thought that the success of his one
attempt would incline the spy to deceive him a second time.
And he was not mistaken. For as the spy came up stealthily,
and wanted to put back the shield and the writing in their
old place, Amleth leapt up, seized him, and detained him in
bonds. Then he roused his retinue, and went to the abode of
the queen. As representing his father-in-law, he greeted
her, and handled her the writing, sealed with the king's
seal. The queen, who was named Hermutrude, took and read it,
and spoke most warmly of Amleth's diligence and shrewdness,
saying, that Feng had deserved his punishment, and that the
unfathomable wit of Amleth had accomplished a deed past all
human estimation; seeing that not only had his impenetrable
depth devised a mode of revenging his father's death and his
mother's adultery, but it had further, by his notable deeds
Of prowess, seized the kingdom of the man whom he had found
constantly plotting against him. She marvelled therefore
that a man of such instructed mind could have made the one
slip of a mistaken marriage; for though his renown almost
rose above mortality, he seemed to have stumbled into an
obscure and ignoble match. For the parents of his wife had
been slaves, though good luck had graced them with the
honours of royalty. Now (said she), when looking for a wife
a wise man must reckon the lustre of her birth and not of
her beauty. Therefore, if he were to seek a match in a
proper spirit, he should weigh the ancestry, and not be
smitten by the looks; for though looks were a lure to
temptation, yet their empty bedizenment had tarnished the
white simplicity of many a man. Now there was a woman, as
nobly born as himself, whom he could take. She herself,
whose means were not poor nor her birth lowly, was worthy
his embraces, since he did not surpass her in royal wealth
nor outshine her in the honour of his ancestors. Indeed she
was a queen, and but that her sex gainsaid it, might be
deemed a king; may (and this is yet truer), whomsoever she
thought worthy of her bed was at once a king, and she
yielded her kingdom with herself. Thus her sceptre and her
hand went together. It was no mean favour for such a woman
to offer her love, who in the case of other men had always
followed her refusal with the sword. Therefore she pressed
him to transfer his wooing, to make over to her his marriage
vows, and to learn to prefer birth to beauty. So saying, she
fell upon him with a close embrace.
Amleth was
overjoyed at the gracious speech of the maiden, fell to
kissing back, and returned her close embrace, protesting
that the maiden's wish was his own. Then a banquet was held,
friends bidden, the nobles gathered, and the marriage rites
performed. When they were accomplished, he went back to
Britain with his bride, a strong band of Scots being told to
follow close behind, that he might have its help against the
diverse treacheries in his path. As he was returning, the
daughter of the King of Britain, to whom he was still
married, met him. Though she complained that she was
slighted by the wrong of having a paramour put over her,
yet, she said, it would be unworthy for her to hate him as
an adulterer more than she loved him as a husband: nor would
she so far shrink from her lord as to bring herself to hide
in silence the guile which she knew was intended against
him. For she had a son as a pledge of their marriage, and
regard for him, if nothing else, must have inclined his
mother to the affection of a wife. "He," she said, "may hate
the supplanter of his mother, I will love her; no disaster
shall put out my flame for thee; no ill-will shall quench
it, or prevent me from exposing the malignant designs
against thee, or from revealing the snares I have detected.
Bethink thee, then, that thou must beware of thy
father-in-law, for thou hast thyself reaped the harvest of
thy mission, foiled the wishes of him who sent thee, and
with willful trespass seized over all the fruit for
thyself." By this speech she showed herself more inclined to
love her husband than her father.
While she thus
spoke, the King of Britain came up and embraced his
son-in-law closely, but with little love, and welcomed him
with a banquet, to hide his intended guile under a show of
generosity. But Amleth, having learnt the deceit, dissembled
his fear, took a retinue of two hundred horsemen, put on an
under- shirt (of mail), and complied with the invitation,
preferring the peril of falling in with the king's deceit to
the shame of hanging back. So much heed for honour did he
think that he must take in all things. As he rode up close,
the king attacked him just under the porch of the folding
doors, and would have thrust him through with his javelin,
but that the hard shirt of mail threw off the blade. Amleth
received a slight wound, and went to the spot where he had
bidden the Scottish warriors wait on duty. He then sent back
to the king his new wife's spy, whom he had captured. This
man was to bear witness that he had secretly taken from the
coffer where it was kept the letter which was meant for his
mistress, and thus was to make the whole blame recoil on
Hermutrude, by this studied excuse absolving Amleth from the
charge of treachery. The king without tarrying pursued
Amleth hotly as he fled, and deprived him of most of his
forces. So Amleth, on the morrow, wishing to fight for dear
life, and utterly despairing of his powers of resistance,
tried to increase his apparent numbers. He put stakes under
some of the dead bodies of his comrades to prop them up, set
others on horseback like living men, and tied others to
neighbouring stones, not taking off any of their armour, and
dressing them in due order of line and wedge, just as if
they were about to engage. The wing composed of the dead was
as thick as the troop of the living. It was an amazing
spectacle this, of dead men dragged out to battle, and
corpses mustered to fight. The plan served him well, for the
very figures of the dead men showed like a vast array as the
sunbeams struck them. For those dead and senseless shapes
restored the original number of the army so well, that the
mass might have been unthinned by the slaughter of
yesterday. The Britons, terrified at the spectacle, fled
before fighting, conquered by the dead men whom they had
overcome in life. I cannot tell whether to think more of the
cunning or of the good fortune of this victory. The Danes
came down on the king as he was tardily making off, and
killed him. Amleth, triumphant, made a great plundering,
seized the spoils of Britain, and went back with his wives
to his own land.
Meanwhile Rorik had
died, and Wiglek, who had come to the throne, had harassed
Amleth's mother with all manner of insolence and stripped
her of her royal wealth, complaining that her son had
usurped the kingdom of Jutland and defrauded the King of
Leire, who had the sole privilege of giving and taking away
the rights of high offices. This treatment Amleth took with
such forbearance as apparently to return kindness for
slander, for he presented Wiglek with the richest of his
spoils. But afterwards he seized a chance of taking
vengeance, attacked him, subdued him, and from a covert
became an open foe. Fialler, the governor of Skaane, he
drove into exile; and the tale is that Fialler retired to a
spot called Undensakre, which is unknown to our peoples.
After this, Wiglek, recruited with the forces of Skaane and
Zealand, sent envoys to challenge Amleth to a war. Amleth,
with his marvellous shrewdness, saw that he was tossed
between two difficulties, one of which involved disgrace and
the other danger. For he knew that if he took up the
challenge he was threatened with peril of his life, while to
shrink from it would disgrace his reputation as a soldier. Yet
in that spirit ever fixed on deeds of prowess the desire to
save his honour won the day. Dread of disaster was blunted by
more vehement thirst for glory; he would not tarnish the
unblemished lustre of his fame by timidly skulking from his
fate. Also he saw that there is almost as wide a gap between a
mean life and a noble death as that which is acknowledged
between honour and disgrace themselves.
Yet Amleth was enchained by such great love for
Hermutrude, that he was more deeply concerned in his mind
about her future widowhood than about his own death, and cast
about very zealously how he could decide on some second
husband for her before the opening of the war. Hermutrude,
therefore, declared that she had the courage of a man, and
promised that she would not forsake him even on the field,
saying that the woman who dreaded to be united with her lord
in death was abominable. But she kept this rare promise ill;
for when Amleth had been slain by Wiglek in battle in Jutland,
she yielded herself up unasked to be the conqueror's spoil and
bride. Thus all vows of woman are loosed by change of fortune
and melted by the shifting of time; the faith of their soul
rests on a slippery foothold, and is weakened by casual
chances; glib in promises, and as sluggish in performance, all
manner of lustful promptings enslave it, and it bounds away
with panting and precipitate desire, forgetful of old things
in the ever hot pursuit after something fresh. So ended
Amleth. Had fortune been as kind to him as nature, he would
have equalled the gods in glory, and surpassed the labours of
Hercules by his deeds of prowess. A plain in Jutland is to be
found, famous for his name and burial-place. Wiglek's
administration of the kingdom was long and peaceful, and he
died of disease.
WERMUND, his son, succeeded him. The long and
leisurely tranquillity of a most prosperous and quiet time
flowed by and Wermund in undisturbed security maintained a
prolonged and steady peace at home. He had no children during
the prime of his life, but in his old age, by a belated gift
of fortune, he begat a son, Uffe, though all the years which
had glided by had raised him up no offspring. This Uffe
surpassed all of his age in stature, but in his early youth
was supposed to have so dull and foolish a spirit as to be
useless for all affairs public or private. For from his first
years he never used to play or make merry, but was so void of
all human pleasure that he kept his lips sealed in a perennial
silence, and utterly restrained his austere visage from the
business of laughter. But though through the years of his
youth he was reputed for an utter fool, he afterwards left
that despised estate and became famous, turning out as great a
pattern of wisdom and hardihood as he had been a picture of
stagnation. His father, seeing him such a simpleton, got him
for a wife the daughter of Frowin, the governor of the men of
Sleswik; thinking that by his alliance with so famous a man
Uffe would receive help which would serve him well in
administering the realm. Frowin had two sons, Ket and Wig, who
were youths of most brilliant parts, and their excellence, not
less than that of Frowin, Wermund destined to the future
advantage of his son.
At this time the King of Sweden was Athisl, a
man of notable fame and energy. After defeating his neighbours
far around, he was loth to leave the renown won by his prowess
to be tarnished in slothful ease, and by constant and zealous
practice brought many novel exercises into vogue. For one
thing he had a daily habit of walking alone girt with splendid
armour: in part because he knew that nothing was more
excellent in warfare than the continual practice of arms; and
in part that he might swell his glory by ever following this
pursuit. Self-confidence claimed as large a place in this man
as thirst for fame. Nothing, he thought, could be so terrible
as to make him afraid that it would daunt his stout heart by
its opposition. He carried his arms into Denmark, and
challenged Frowin to battle near Sleswik. The armies routed
one another with vast slaughter, and it happened that the
generals came to engage in person, so that they conducted the
affair like a duel; and, in addition to the public issues of
the war, the fight was like a personal conflict. For both of
them longed with equal earnestness for an issue of the combat
by which they might exhibit their valour, not by the help of
their respective sides, but by a trial of personal strength.
The end was that, though the blows rained thick on either
side, Athisl prevailed and overthrew Frowin, and won a public
victory as well as a duel, breaking up and shattering the
Danish ranks in all directions. When he returned to Sweden, he
not only counted the slaying of Frowin among the trophies of
his valour, but even bragged of it past measure, so ruining
the glory of the deed by his wantonness of tongue. For it is
sometimes handsomer for deeds of valour to be shrouded in the
modesty of silence than to be blazoned in wanton talk.
Wermund raised the sons of Frowin to honours of
the same rank as their father's, a kindness which was only due
to the children of his friend who had died for the country.
This prompted Athisl to carry the war again into Denmark.
Emboldened therefore by his previous battle, he called back,
bringing with him not only no slender and feeble force, but
all the flower of the valour of Sweden, thinking he would
seize the supremacy of all Denmark. Ket, the son of Frowin,
sent Folk, his chief officer, to take this news to Wermund,
who then chanced to be in his house Jellinge. (1) Folk found
the king feasting with his friends, and did his errand,
admonishing him that here was the long-wished-for chance of
war at hand, and pressing itself upon the wishes of Wermund,
to whom was give an immediate chance of victory and the free
choice of a speedy and honourable triumph. Great and
unexpected were the sweets of good fortune, so long sighed
for, and now granted to him by this lucky event. For Athisl
had come encompassed with countless forces of the Swedes, just
as though in his firm assurance he had made sure of victory;
and since the enemy who was going to fight would doubtless
prefer death to flight, this chance of war gave them a
fortunate opportunity to take vengeance for their late
disaster.
Wermund, declaring that he had performed his
mission nobly and bravely, ordered that he should take some
little refreshment of the banquet, since "far-faring ever hurt
fasters." When Folk said that he had no kind of leisure to
take food, he begged him to take a draught to quench his
thirst. This was given him; and Wermund also bade him keep the
cup, which was of gold, saying that men who were weary with
the heat of wayfaring found it handier to take up the water in
a goblet than in the palms, and that it was better to use a
cup for drinking than the hand. When the king accompanied his
great gift with such gracious words, the young man, overjoyed
at both, promised that, before the king should see him turn
and flee, he would take a draught of his own blood to the full
measure of the liquor he had drunk.
With this doughty vow Wermund accounted himself
well repaid, and got somewhat more joy from giving the boon
than the soldier had from gaining it. Nor did he find that
Folk's talk was braver than his fighting.
For, when battle had begun, it came to pass
that amidst divers charges of the troops Folk and Athisl met
and fought a long while together; and that the host of the
Swedes, following the fate of their captain, took to flight,
and Athisl also was wounded and fled from the battle to his
ships. And when Folk, dazed with wounds and toils, and
moreover steeped alike in heat and toil and thirst, had ceased
to follow the rout of the enemy, then, in order to refresh
himself, he caught his own blood in his helmet, and put it to
his lips to drain: by which deed he gloriously requited the
king's gift of the cup. Wermund, who chanced to see this,
praised him warmly for fulfilling his vow. Folk answered, that
a noble vow ought to be strictly performed to the end: a
speech wherein he showed no less approval of his own deed than
Wermund.
Now, while the conquerors had laid down their
arms, and, as is usual after battle, were exchanging diverse
talk with one another, Ket, the governor of the men of
Sleswik, declared that it was a matter of great marvel to him
how it was that Athisl, though difficulties strewed his path,
had contrived an opportunity to escape, especially as he had
been the first and foremost in the battle, but last of all in
the retreat; and though there had not been one of the enemy
whose fall was so vehemently desired by the Danes. Wermund
rejoined that he should know that there were four kinds of
warrior to be distinguished in every army. The fighters of the
first order were those who, tempering valour with forbearance,
were keen to slay those who resisted, but were ashamed to bear
hard on fugitives. For these were the men who had won
undoubted proofs of prowess by veteran experience in arms, and
who found their glory not in the flight of the conquered, but
in overcoming those whom they had to conquer. Then there was a
second kind of warriors, who were endowed with stout frame and
spirit, but with no jot of compassion, and who raged with
savage and indiscriminate carnage against the backs as well as
the breasts of their foes. Now of this sort were the men
carried away by hot and youthful blood, and striving to grace
their first campaign with good auguries of warfare. They
burned as hotly with the glow of youth as with the glow for
glory, and thus rushed headlong into right or wrong with equal
recklessness. There was also the third kind, who, wavering
betwixt shame and fear, could not go forward for terror, while
shame barred retreat. Of distinguished blood, but only notable
for their useless stature, they crowded the ranks with numbers
and not with strength, smote the foe more with their shadows
than with their arms, and were only counted among the throng
of warriors as so many bodies to be seen. These men were lords
of great riches, but excelled more in birth than bravery;
hungry for life because owning great possessions, they were
forced to yield to the sway of cowardice rather than
nobleness. There were others, again, who brought show to the
war, and not substance, and who, foisting themselves into the
rear of their comrades, were the first to fly and the last to
fight. One sure token of fear betrayed their feebleness; for
they always deliberately sought excuses to shirk, and followed
with timid and sluggish advance in the rear of the fighters.
It must be supposed, therefore, that these were the reasons
why the king had escaped safely; for when he fled he was not
pursued pertinaciously by the men of the front rank; since
these made it their business to preserve the victory, not to
arrest the conquered, and massed their wedges, in order that
the fresh-won victory might be duly and sufficiently guarded,
and attain the fulness of triumph.
Now the second class of fighters, whose desire
was to cut down everything in their way, had left Athisl
unscathed, from lack not of will but of opportunity; for they
had lacked the chance to hurt him rather than the daring.
Moreover, though the men of the third kind, who frittered away
the very hour of battle by wandering about in a flurried
fashion, and also hampered the success of their own side, had
had their chance of harming the king, they yet lacked courage
to assail him. In this way Wermund satisfied the dull
amazement of Ket, and declared that he had set forth and
expounded the true reasons of the king's safe escape.
After this Athisl fled back to Sweden, still
wantonly bragging of the slaughter of Frowin, and constantly
boasting the memory of his exploit with prolix recital of his
deeds; not that he bore calmly the shame of his defeat, but
that he might salve the wound of his recent flight by the
honours of his ancient victory. This naturally much angered
Ket and Wig, and they swore a vow to unite in avenging their
father. Thinking that they could hardly accomplish this in
open war, they took an equipment of lighter armament, and went
to Sweden alone. Then, entering a wood in which they had
learnt by report that the king used to take his walks
unaccompanied, they hid their weapons. Then they talked long
with Athisl, giving themselves out as deserters; and when he
asked them what was their native country, they said they were
men of Sleswik, and had left their land "for manslaughter".
The king thought that this statement referred not to their vow
to commit the crime, but to the guilt of some crime already
committed. For they desired by this deceit to foil his
inquisitiveness, so that the truthfulness of the statement
might baffle the wit of the questioner, and their true answer,
being covertly shadowed forth in a fiction, might inspire in
him a belief that it was false. For famous men of old thought
lying a most shameful thing. Then Athisl said he would like to
know whom the Danes believed to be the slayer of Frowin. Ket
replied that there was a doubt as to who ought to claim so
illustrious a deed, especially as the general testimony was
that he had perished on the field of battle. Athisl answered
that it was idle to credit others with the death of Frowin,
which he, and he alone, had accomplished in mutual combat.
Soon he asked whether Frowin had left any children. Ket
answering that two sons of his were alive, said that he would
be very glad to learn their age and stature. Ket replied that
they were almost of the same size as themselves in body, alike
in years, and much resembling them in tallness. Then Athisl
said: "If the mind and the valour of their sire were theirs, a
bitter tempest would break upon me." Then he asked whether
those men constantly spoke of the slaying of their father. Ket
rejoined that it was idle to go on talking and talking about a
thing that could not be softened by any remedy, and declared
that it was no good to harp with constant vexation on an
inexpiable ill. By saying this he showed that threats ought
not to anticipate vengeance.
When Ket saw that the king regularly walked
apart alone in order to train his strength, he took up his
arms, and with his brother followed the king as he walked in
front of them. Athisl, when he saw them, stood his ground on
the sand, thinking it shameful to avoid threateners. Then they
said that they would take vengeance for his slaying of Frowin,
especially as he avowed with so many arrogant vaunts that he
alone was his slayer. But he told them to take heed lest while
they sought to compass their revenge, they should be so
foolhardy as to engage him with their feeble and powerless
hand, and while desiring the destruction of another, should
find they had fallen themselves. Thus they would cut off their
goodly promise of overhasty thirst for glory. Let them then
save their youth and spare their promise; let them not be
seized so lightly with a desire to perish. Therefore, let them
suffer him to requite with money the trespass done them in
their father's death, and account it great honour that they
would be credited with forcing so mighty a chief to pay a
fine, and in a manner with shaking him with overmastering
fear. Yet he said he advised them thus, not because he was
really terrified, but because he was moved with compassion for
their youth. Ket replied that it was idle to waste time in
beating so much about the bush and trying to sap their
righteous longing for revenge by an offer of pelf. So he bade
him come forward and make trial with him in single combat of
whatever strength he had. He himself would do without the aid
of his brother, and would fight with his own strength, lest it
should appear a shameful and unequal combat, for the ancients
held it to be unfair, and also infamous, for two men to fight
against one; and a victory gained by this kind of fighting
they did not account honourable, but more like a disgrace than
a glory. Indeed, it was considered not only a poor, but a most
shameful exploit for two men to overpower one.
But Athisl was filled with such assurance that
he bade them both assail him at once, declaring that if he
could not cure them of the desire to fight, he would at least
give them the chance of fighting more safely. But Ket shrank
so much from this favour that he swore he would accept death
sooner: for he thought that the terms of battle thus offered
would be turned into a reproach to himself. So he engaged
hotly with Athisl, who desirous to fight him in a forbearing
fashion, merely thrust lightly with his blade and struck upon
his shield; thus guarding his own safety with more hardihood
than success. When he had done this some while, he advised him
to take his brother to share in his enterprise, and not be
ashamed to ask for the help of another hand, since his unaided
efforts were useless. If he refused, said Athisl, he should
not be spared; then making good his threats, he assailed him
with all his might. But Ket received him with so sturdy a
stroke of his sword, that it split the helmet and forced its
way down upon the head. Stung by the wound (for a stream of
blood flowed from his poll), he attacked Ket with a shower of
nimble blows, and drove him to his knees. Wig, leaning more to
personal love than to general usage, (2) could not bear the
sight, but made affection conquer shame, and attacking Athisl,
chose rather to defend the weakness of his brother than to
look on at it. But he won more infamy than glory by the deed.
In helping his brother he had violated the appointed
conditions of the duel; and the help that he gave him was
thought more useful than honourable. For on the one scale he
inclined to the side of disgrace, and on the other to that of
affection. Thereupon they perceived themselves that their
killing of Athisl had been more swift than glorious. Yet, not
to hide the deed from the common people, they cut off his
head, slung his body on a horse, took it out of the wood, and
handed it over to the dwellers in a village near, announcing
that the sons of Frowin had taken vengeance upon Athisl, King
of the Swedes, for the slaying of their father. Boasting of
such a victory as this, they were received by Wermund with the
highest honours; for he thought they had done a most useful
deed, and he preferred to regard the glory of being rid of a
rival with more attention than the infamy of committing an
outrage. Nor did he judge that the killing of a tyrant was in
any wise akin to shame. It passed into a proverb among
foreigners, that the death of the king had broken down the
ancient principle of combat.
When Wermund was losing his sight by infirmity
of age, the King of Saxony, thinking that Denmark lacked a
leader, sent envoys ordering him to surrender to his charge
the kingdom which he held beyond the due term of life; lest,
if he thirsted to hold sway too long, he should strip his
country of laws and defence. For how could he be reckoned a
king, whose spirit was darkened with age, and his eyes with
blindness not less black and awful? If he refused, but yet had
a son who would dare to accept a challenge and fight with his
son, let him agree that the victor should possess the realm.
But if he approved neither offer, let him learn that he must
be dealt with by weapons and not by warnings; and in the end
he must unwillingly surrender what he was too proud at first
to yield uncompelled. Wermund, shaken by deep sighs, answered
that it was too insolent to sting him with these taunts upon
his years; for he had passed no timorous youth, nor shrunk
from battle, that age should bring him to this extreme misery.
It was equally unfitting to cast in his teeth the infirmity of
his blindness: for it was common for a loss of this kind to
accompany such a time of life as his, and it seemed a calamity
fitter for sympathy than for taunts. It were juster to fix the
blame on the impatience of the King of Saxony, whom it would
have beseemed to wait for the old man's death, and not demand
his throne; for it was somewhat better to succeed to the dead
than to rob the living. Yet, that he might not be thought to
make over the honours of his ancient freedom, like a madman,
to the possession of another, he would accept the challenge
with his own hand. The envoys answered that they knew that
their king would shrink from the mockery of fighting a blind
man, for such an absurd mode of combat was thought more
shameful than honourable. It would surely be better to settle
the affair by means of their offspring on either side. The
Danes were in consternation, and at a sudden loss for a reply:
but Uffe, who happened to be there with the rest, craved his
father's leave to answer; and suddenly the dumb as it were
spake. When Wermund asked who had thus begged leave to speak,
and the attendants said that it was Uffe, he declared that it
was enough that the insolent foreigner should jeer at the
pangs of his misery, without those of his own household vexing
him with the same wanton effrontery. But the courtiers
persistently averred that this man was Uffe; and the king
said: "He is free, whosoever he be, to say out what he
thinks." Then said Uffe, "that it was idle for their king to
covet a realm which could rely not only on the service of its
own ruler, but also on the arms and wisdom of most valiant
nobles. Moreover, the king did not lack a son nor the kingdom
an heir; and they were to know that he had made up his mind to
fight not only the son of their king, but also, at the same
time, whatsoever man the prince should elect as his comrade
out of the bravest of their nation."
The envoys laughed when they beard this,
thinking it idle lip- courage. Instantly the ground for the
battle was agreed on, and a fixed time appointed. But the
bystanders were so amazed by the strangeness of Uffe's
speaking and challenging, that one can scarce say if they were
more astonished at his words or at his assurance.
But on the departure of the envoys Wermund
praised him who had made the answer, because he had proved his
confidence in his own valour by challenging not one only, but
two; and said that he would sooner quit his kingdom for him,
whoever he was, than for an insolent foe. But when one and all
testified that he who with lofty self-confidence had spurned
the arrogance of the envoys was his own son, he bade him come
nearer to him, wishing to test with his hands what he could
not with his eyes. Then he carefully felt his body, and found
by the size of his limbs and by his features that he was his
son; and then began to believe their assertions, and to ask
him why he had taken pains to hide so sweet an eloquence with
such careful dissembling, and had borne to live through so
long a span of life without utterance or any intercourse of
talk, so as to let men think him utterly incapable of speech,
and a born mute. He replied that he had been hitherto
satisfied with the protection of his father, that he had not
needed the use of his own voice, until he saw the wisdom of
his own land hard pressed by the glibness of a foreigner. The
king also asked him why he had chosen to challenge two rather
than one. He said he had desired this mode of combat in order
that the death of King Athisl, which, having been caused by
two men, was a standing reproach to the Danes, might be
balanced by the exploit of one, and that a new ensample of
valour might erase the ancient record of their disgrace. Fresh
honour, he said, would thus obliterate the guilt of their old
dishonour.
Wermund said that his son had judged all things
rightly, and bade him first learn the use of arms, since he
had been little accustomed to them. When they were offered to
Uffe, he split the narrow links of the mail-coats by the
mighty girth of his chest, nor could any be found large enough
to hold him properly. For he was too hugely built to be able
to use the arms of any other man. At last, when he was
bursting even his father's coat of mail by the violent
compression of his body, Wermund ordered it to be cut away on
the left side and patched with a buckle; thinking it mattered
little if the side guarded by the shield were exposed to the
sword. He also told him to be most careful in fixing on a
sword which he could use safely. Several were offered him; but
Uffe, grasping the hilt, shattered them one after the other
into flinders by shaking them, and not a single blade was of
so hard a temper but at the first blow he broke it into many
pieces. But the king had a sword of extraordinary sharpness,
called "Skrep", which at a single blow of the smiter struck
straight through and cleft asunder any obstacle whatsoever;
nor would aught be hard enough to check its edge when driven
home. The king, loth to leave this for the benefit of
posterity, and greatly grudging others the use of it, had
buried it deep in the earth, meaning, since he had no hopes of
his son's improvement, to debar everyone else from using it.
But when he was now asked whether he had a sword worthy of the
strength of Uffe, he said that he had one which, if he could
recognize the lie of the ground and find what he had consigned
long ago to earth, he could offer him as worthy of his bodily
strength. Then he bade them lead him into a field, and kept
questioning his companions over all the ground. At last he
recognised the tokens, found the spot where he had buried the
sword, drew it out of its hole, and handed it to his son. Uffe
saw it was frail with great age and rusted away; and, not
daring to strike with it, asked if he must prove this one also
like the rest, declaring that he must try its temper before
the battle ought to be fought. Wermund replied that if this
sword were shattered by mere brandishing, there was nothing
left which could serve for such strength as his. He must,
therefore, forbear from the act, whose issue remained so
doubtful.
So they repaired to the field of battle as
agreed. It is fast encompassed by the waters of the river
Eider, which roll between, and forbid any approach save by
ship. Hither Uffe went unattended, while the Prince of Saxony
was followed by a champion famous for his strength. Dense
crowds on either side, eager to see, thronged each winding
bank, and all bent their eyes upon this scene. Wermund planted
himself on the end of the bridge, determined to perish in the
waters if defeat were the lot of his son: he would rather
share the fall of his own flesh and blood than behold, with
heart full of anguish, the destruction of his own country.
Both the warriors assaulted Uffe; but, distrusting his sword,
he parried the blows of both with his shield, being determined
to wait patiently and see which of the two he must beware of
most heedfully, so that he might reach that one at all events
with a single stroke of his blade. Wermund, thinking that his
feebleness was at fault, that he took the blows so patiently,
dragged himself little by little, in his longing for death,
forward to the western edge of the bridge, meaning to fling
himself down and perish, should all be over with his son.
Fortune shielded the old father, for Uffe told
the prince to engage with him more briskly, and to do some
deed of prowess worthy of his famous race; lest the lowborn
squire should seem braver than the prince. Then, in order to
try the bravery of the champion, he bade him not skulk
timorously at his master's heels, but requite by noble deeds
of combat the trust placed in him by his prince, who had
chosen him to be his single partner in the battle. The other
complied, and when shame drove him to fight at close quarters,
Uffe clove him through with the first stroke of his blade. The
sound revived Wermund, who said that he heard the sword of his
son, and asked "on what particular part he had dealt the
blow?" Then the retainers answered that it had gone through no
one limb, but the man's whole frame; whereat Wermund drew back
from the precipice and came on the bridge, longing now as
passionately to live as he had just wished to die. Then Uffe,
wishing to destroy his remaining foe after the fashion of the
first, incited the prince with vehement words to offer some
sacrifice by way of requital to the shade of the servant slain
in his cause. Drawing him by those appeals, and warily noting
the right spot to plant his blow, he turned the other edge of
his sword to the front, fearing that the thin side of his
blade was too frail for his strength, and smote with a
piercing stroke through the prince's body. When Wermund heard
it, he said that the sound of his sword "Skrep" had reached
his ear for the second time. Then, when the judges announced
that his son had killed both enemies, he burst into tears from
excess of joy. Thus gladness bedewed the cheeks which sorrow
could not moisten. So while the Saxons, sad and shamefaced,
bore their champions to burial with bitter shame, the Danes
welcomed Uffe and bounded for joy. Then no more was heard of
the disgrace of the murder of Athisl, and there was an end of
the taunts of the Saxons.
Thus the realm of Saxony was transferred to the
Danes, and Uffe, after his father, undertook its government;
and he, who had not been thought equal to administering a
single kingdom properly, was now appointed to manage both.
Most men have called him Olaf, and he has won the name of "the
Gentle" for his forbearing spirit. His later deeds, lost in
antiquity, have lacked formal record. But it may well be
supposed that when their beginnings were so notable, their
sequel was glorious. I am so brief in considering his doings,
because the lustre of the famous men of our nation has been
lost to memory and praise by the lack of writings. But if by
good luck our land had in old time been endowed with the Latin
tongue, there would have been countless volumes to read of the
exploits of the Danes.
Uffe was succeeded by his son DAN, who carried
his arms against foreigners, and increased his sovereignty
with many a trophy; but he tarnished the brightness of the
glory he had won by foul and abominable presumption; falling
so far away from the honour of his famous father, who
surpassed all others in modesty, that he contrariwise was
puffed up and proudly exalted in spirit, so that he scorned
all other men. He also squandered the goods of his father on
infamies, as well as his own winnings from the spoils of
foreign nations; and he devoured in expenditure on luxuries
the wealth which should have ministered to his royal estate.
Thus do sons sometimes, like monstrous births, degenerate from
their ancestors.
After this HUGLEIK was king, who is said to
have defeated in battle at sea Homod and Hogrim, the despots
of Sweden.
To him succeeded FRODE, surnamed the Vigorous,
who bore out his name by the strength of his body and mind. He
destroyed in war ten captains of Norway, and finally
approached the island which afterwards had its name from him,
meaning to attack the king himself last of all. This king,
Froger, was in two ways very distinguished, being notable in
arms no less than in wealth; and graced his sovereignty with
the deeds of a champion, being as rich in prizes for bodily
feats as in the honours of rank. According to some, he was the
son of Odin, and when he begged the immortal gods to grant him
a boon, received the privilege that no man should conquer him,
save he who at the time of the conflict could catch up in his
hand the dust lying beneath Froger's feet. When Frode found
that Heaven had endowed this king with such might, he
challenged him to a duel, meaning to try to outwit the favour
of the gods. So at first, feigning inexperience, he besought
the king for a lesson in fighting, knowing (he said) his skill
and experience in the same. The other, rejoicing that his
enemy not only yielded to his pretensions, but even made him a
request, said that he was wise to submit his youthful mind to
an old man's wisdom; for his unscarred face and his brow,
ploughed by no marks of battle, showed that his knowledge of
such matters was but slender. So he marked off on the ground
two square spaces with sides an ell long, opposite one
another, meaning to begin by instructing him about the use of
these plots. When they had been marked off, each took the side
assigned to him. Then Frode asked Froger to exchange arms and
ground with him, and the request was readily granted. For
Froger was excited with the dashing of his enemy's arms,
because Frode wore a gold-hilted sword, a breastplate equally
bright, and a headpiece most brilliantly adorned in the same
manner. So Frode caught up some dust from the ground whence
Froger had gone, and thought that he had been granted an omen
of victory. Nor was he deceived in his presage; for he
straightway slew Froger, and by this petty trick won the
greatest name for bravery; for he gained by craft what had
been permitted to no man's strength before.
After him DAN came to the throne. When he was
in the twelfth year of his age, he was wearied by the
insolence of the embassies, which commanded him either to
fight the Saxons or to pay them tribute. Ashamed, he preferred
fighting to payment and was moved to die stoutly rather than
live a coward. So he elected to fight; and the warriors of the
Danes filled the Elbe with such a throng of vessels, that the
decks of the ships lashed together made it quite easy to
cross, as though along a continuous bridge. The end was that
the King of Saxony had to accept the very terms he was
demanding from the Danes.
After Dan, FRIDLEIF, surnamed the Swift,
assumed the sovereignty. During his reign, Huyrwil, the lord
of Oland, made a league with the Danes and attacked Norway. No
small fame was added to his deeds by the defeat of the amazon
Rusila, who aspired with military ardour to prowess in battle:
but he gained manly glory over a female foe. Also he took into
his alliance, on account of their deeds of prowess, her five
partners, the children of Finn, named Brodd, Bild, Bug,
Fanning, and Gunholm. Their confederacy emboldened him to
break the treaty which he made with the Danes; and the
treachery of the violation made it all the more injurious, for
the Danes could not believe that he could turn so suddenly
from a friend into an enemy; so easily can some veer from
goodwill into hate. I suppose that this man inaugurated the
morals of our own day, for we do not account lying and
treachery as sinful and sordid. When Huyrwil attacked the
southern side of Zealand, Fridleif assailed him in the harbour
which was afterwards called by Huyrwil's name. In this battle
the soldiers, in their rivalry for glory, engaged with such
bravery that very few fled to escape peril, and both armies
were utterly destroyed; nor did the victory fall to either
side, where both were enveloped in an equal ruin. So much more
desirous were they all of glory than of life. So the survivors
of Huyrwil's army, in order to keep united, had the remnants
of their fleet lashed together at night. But, in the same
night, Bild and Brodd cut the cables with which the ships were
joined, and stealthily severed their own vessels from the
rest, thus yielding to their own terrors by deserting their
brethren, and obeying the impulses of fear rather than
fraternal love. When daylight returned, Fridleif, finding that
after the great massacre of their friends only Huyrwil,
Gunholm, Bug, and Fanning were left, determined to fight them
all single-handed, so that the mangled relics of his fleet
might not again have to be imperilled. Besides his innate
courage, a shirt of steel-defying mail gave him confidence; a
garb which he used to wear in all public battles and in duels,
as a preservative of his life. He accomplished his end with as
much fortune as courage, and ended the battle successfully.
For, after slaying Huyrwil, Bug, and Fanning, he killed
Gunholm, who was accustomed to blunt the blade of an enemy
with spells, by a shower of blows from his hilt. But while he
gripped the blade too eagerly, the sinews, being cut and
disabled, contracted the fingers upon the palm, and cramped
them with life-long curvature.
While Fridleif was besieging Dublin, a town in
Ireland, and saw from the strength of the walls that there was
no chance of storming them, he imitated the shrewd wit of
Hadding, and ordered fire to be shut up in wicks and fastened
to the wings of swallows. When the birds got back in their own
nesting-place, the dwellings suddenly flared up; and while the
citizens all ran up to quench them, and paid more heed to
abating the fire than to looking after the enemy, Fridleif
took Dublin. After this he lost his soldiers in Britain, and,
thinking that he would find it hard to get back to the coast,
he set up the corpses of the slain (Amleth's device) and
stationed them in line, thus producing so nearly the look of
his original host that its great reverse seemed not to have
lessened the show of it a whit. By this deed he not only took
out of the enemy all heart for fighting, but inspired them
with the desire to make their escape.
ENDNOTES:
(1) Jellinge. Lat. "Ialunga", Icel. "Jalangr".
(2) General usage. "publicus consuetudini": namely, the rule
of combat that two should not fight against one.
BOOK FIVE
After the death of Fridleif, his son FRODE,
aged seven, was elected in his stead by the unanimous decision
of the Danes. But they held an assembly first, and judged that
the minority of the king should be taken in charge by
guardians, lest the sovereignty should pass away owing to the
boyishness of the ruler. For one and all paid such respect to
the name and memory of Fridleif, that the royalty was bestowed
on his son despite his tender years. So a selection was made,
and the brothers Westmar and Koll were summoned to the charge
of bringing up the king. Isulf, also, and Agg and eight other
men of mark were not only entrusted with the guardianship of
the king, but also granted authority to administer the realm
under him. These men were rich in strength and courage, and
endowed with ample gifts of mind as well as of body. Thus the
state of the Danes was governed with the aid of regents until
the time when the king should be a man.
The wife of Koll was Gotwar, who used to
paralyse the most eloquent and fluent men by her glib and
extraordinary insolence; for she was potent in wrangling, and
full of resource in all kinds of disputation. Words were her
weapons; and she not only trusted in questions, but was armed
with stubborn answers. No man could subdue this woman, who
could not fight, but who found darts in her tongue instead.
Some she would argue down with a flood of impudent words,
while others she seemed to entangle in the meshes of her
quibbles, and strangle in the noose of her sophistries; so
nimble a wit had the woman. Moreover, she was very strong,
either in making or cancelling a bargain, and the sting of her
tongue was the secret of her power in both. She was clever
both at making and at breaking leagues; thus she had two sides
to her tongue, and used it for either purpose.
Westmar had twelve sons, three of whom had the
same name -- Grep in common. These three men were conceived at
once and delivered at one birth, and their common name
declared their simultaneous origin. They were exceedingly
skillful swordsmen and boxers. Frode had also given the
supremacy of the sea to Odd; who was very closely related to
the king. Koll rejoiced in an offspring of three sons. At this
time a certain son of Frode's brother held the chief command
of naval affairs for the protection of the country, Now the
king had a sister, Gunwar, surnamed the Fair because of her
surpassing beauty. The sons of Westmar and Koll, being ungrown
in years and bold in spirit, let their courage become
recklessness and devoted their guilt-stained minds to foul and
degraded orgies.
Their behaviour was so outrageous and
uncontrollable that they ravished other men's brides and
daughters, and seemed to have outlawed chastity and banished
it to the stews. Nay, they defiled the couches of matrons, and
did not even refrain from the bed of virgins. A man's own
chamber was no safety to him: there was scarce a spot in the
land but bore traces of their lust. Husbands were vexed with
fear, and wives with insult to their persons: and to these
wrongs folk bowed. No ties were respected, and forced embraces
became a common thing. Love was prostituted, all reverence for
marriage ties died out, and lust was greedily run after. And
the reason of all this was the peace; for men's bodies lacked
exercise and were enervated in the ease so propitious to
vices. At last the eldest of those who shared the name of
Grep, wishing to regulate and steady his promiscuous
wantonness, ventured to seek a haven for his vagrant amours in
the love of the king's sister. Yet he did amiss. For though it
was right that his vagabond and straying delights should be
bridled by modesty, yet it was audacious for a man of the
people to covet the child of a king. She, much fearing the
impudence of her wooer, and wishing to be safer from outrage,
went into a fortified building. Thirty attendants were given
to her, to keep guard and constant watch over her person.
Now the comrades of Frode, sadly lacking the
help of women in the matter of the wear of their garments,
inasmuch as they had no means of patching or of repairing
rents, advised and urged the king to marry. At first he
alleged his tender years as an excuse, but in the end yielded
to the persistent requests of his people. And when he
carefully inquired of his advisers who would be a fit wife for
him, they all praised the daughter of the King of the Huns
beyond the rest. When the question was pushed, what reason
Frode had for objecting to her, he replied that he had heard
from his father that it was not expedient for kings to seek
alliance far afield, or to demand love save from neighbours.
When Gotwar heard this she knew that the king's resistance to
his friends was wily. Wishing to establish his wavering
spirit, and strengthen the courage of his weakling soul, she
said: "Bridals are for young men, but the tomb awaits the old.
The steps of youth go forward in desires and in fortune; but
old age declines helpless to the sepulchre. Hope attends
youth; age is bowed with hopeless decay. The fortune of young
men increases; it will never leave unfinished what it begins."
Respecting her words, he begged her to undertake the
management of the suit. But she refused, pleading her age as
her pretext, and declaring herself too stricken in years to
bear so difficult a commission. The king saw that a bribe was
wanted, and, proffering a golden necklace, promised it as the
reward of her embassy. For the necklace had links consisting
of studs, and figures of kings interspersed in bas-relief,
which could be now separated and now drawn together by pulling
a thread inside; a gewgaw devised more for luxury than use.
Frode also ordered that Westmar and Koll, with their sons,
should be summoned to go on the same embassy, thinking that
their cunning would avoid the shame of a rebuff.
They went with Gotwar, and were entertained by
the King of the Huns at a three days' banquet, ere they
uttered the purpose of their embassy. For it was customary of
old thus to welcome guests. When the feast had been prolonged
three days, the princess came forth to make herself pleasant
to the envoys with a most courteous address, and her blithe
presence added not a little to the festal delights of the
banqueters. And as the drink went faster Westmar revealed his
purpose in due course, in a very merry declaration, wishing to
sound the mind of the maiden in talk of a friendly sort. And,
in order not to inflict on himself a rebuff, he spoke in a
mirthful vein, and broke the ground of his mission, by
venturing to make up a sportive speech amid the applause of
the revellers. The princess said that she disdained Frode
because he lacked honour and glory. For in days of old no men
were thought fit for the hand of high-born women but those who
had won some great prize of glory by the lustre of their
admirable deeds. Sloth was the worst of vices in a suitor, and
nothing was more of a reproach in one who sought marriage than
the lack of fame. A harvest of glory, and that alone, could
bring wealth in everything else. Maidens admired in their
wooers not so much good looks as deeds nobly done. So the
envoys, flagging and despairing of their wish, left the
further conduct of the affair to the wisdom of Gotwar, who
tried to subdue the maiden not only with words but with
love-philtres, and began to declare that Frode used his left
hand as well as his right, and was a quick and skillful
swimmer and fighter. Also by the drink which she gave she
changed the strictness of the maiden to desire, and replaced
her vanished anger with love and delight. Then she bade
Westmar, Koll, and their sons go to the king and urge their
mission afresh; and finally, should they find him froward, to
anticipate a rebuff by a challenge to fight.
So Westmar entered the palace with his
men-at-arms, and said: "Now thou must needs either consent to
our entreaties, or meet in battle us who entreat thee. We
would rather die nobly than go back with our mission
unperformed; lest, foully repulsed and foiled of our purpose,
we should take home disgrace where we hoped to will honour. If
thou refuse thy daughter, consent to fight: thou must needs
grant one thing or the other. We wish either to die or to have
our prayers beard. Something -- sorrow if not joy -- we will
get from thee. Frode will be better pleased to hear of our
slaughter than of our repulse." Without another word, he
threatened to aim a blow at the king's throat with his sword.
The king replied that it was unseemly for the royal majesty to
meet an inferior in rank in level combat, and unfit that those
of unequal station should fight as equals. But when Westmar
persisted in urging him to fight, he at last bade him find out
what the real mind of the maiden was; for in old time men gave
women who were to marry, free choice of a husband. For the
king was embarrassed, and hung vacillating betwixt shame and
fear of battle. Thus Westmar, having been referred to the
thoughts of the girl's heart, and knowing that every woman is
as changeable in purpose as she is fickle in soul, proceeded
to fulfil his task all the more confidently because he knew
how mutable the wishes of maidens were. His confidence in his
charge was increased and his zeal encouraged, because she had
both a maiden's simplicity, which was left to its own
counsels, and a woman's freedom of choice, which must be
wheedled with the most delicate and mollifying flatteries; and
thus she would be not only easy to lead away, but even hasty
in compliance. But her father went after the envoys, that he
might see more surely into his daughter's mind. She had
already been drawn by the stealthy working of the draught to
love her suitor, and answered that the promise of Frode,
rather than his present renown, had made her expect much of
his nature: since he was sprung from so famous a father, and
every nature commonly answered to its origin. The youth
therefore had pleased her by her regard of his future, rather
than his present, glory. These words amazed the father; but
neither could he bear to revoke the freedom he had granted
her, and he promised her in marriage to Frode. Then, having
laid in ample stores, he took her away with the most splendid
pomp, and, followed by the envoys, hastened to Denmark,
knowing that a father was the best person to give away a
daughter in marriage. Frode welcomed his bride most joyfully,
and also bestowed the highest honours upon his future royal
father-in-law; and when the marriage rites were over,
dismissed him with a large gift of gold and silver.
And so with Hanund, the daughter of the King of
the Huns, for his wife, he passed three years in the most
prosperous peace. But idleness brought wantonness among his
courtiers, and peace begot lewdness, which they displayed in
the most abominable crimes. For they would draw some men up in
the air on ropes, and torment them, pushing their bodies as
they hung, like a ball that is tossed; or they would put a
kid's hide under the feet of others as they walked, and, by
stealthily pulling a rope, trip their unwary steps on the
slippery skill in their path; others they would strip of their
clothes, and lash with sundry tortures of stripes; others they
fastened to pegs, as with a noose, and punished with
mock-hanging. They scorched off the beard and hair with
tapers; of others they burned the hair of the groin with a
brand. Only those maidens might marry whose chastity they had
first deflowered. Strangers they battered with bones; others
they compelled to drunkenness with immoderate draughts, and
made them burst. No man might give his daughter to wife unless
he had first bought their favour and goodwill. None might
contract any marriage without first purchasing their consent
with a bribe. Moreover, they extended their abominable and
abandoned lust not only to virgins, but to the multitude of
matrons indiscriminately. Thus a twofold madness incited this
mixture of wantonness and frenzy. Guests and strangers were
proffered not shelter but revilings. All these maddening
mockeries did this insolent and wanton crew devise, and thus
under a boy-king freedom fostered licence. For nothing
prolongs reckless sin like the procrastination of punishment
and vengeance. This unbridled impudence of the soldiers ended
by making the king detested, not only by foreigners, but even
by his own people, for the Danes resented such an arrogant and
cruel rule. But Grep was contented with no humble loves; he
broke out so outrageously that he was guilty of intercourse
with the queen, and proved as false to the king as he was
violent to all other men. Then by degrees the scandal grew,
and the suspicion of his guilt crept on with silent step. The
common people found it out before the king. For Grep, by
always punishing all who alluded in the least to this
circumstance, had made it dangerous to accuse him. But the
rumour of his crime, which at first was kept alive in
whispers, was next passed on in public reports; for it is hard
for men to hide another's guilt if they are aware of it.
Gunwar had many suitors; and accordingly Grep, trying to take
revenge for his rebuff by stealthy wiles, demanded the right
of judging the suitors, declaring that the princess ought to
make the choicest match. But he disguised his anger, lest he
should seem to have sought the office from hatred of the
maiden. At his request the king granted him leave to examine
the merits of the young men. So he first gathered all the
wooers of Gunwar together on the pretence of a banquet, and
then lined the customary room of the princess with their heads
-- a gruesome spectacle for all the rest. Yet he forfeited
none of his favour with Frode, nor abated his old intimacy
with him. For he decided that any opportunity of an interview
with the king must be paid for, and gave out that no one
should have any conversation with him who brought no presents.
Access, he announced, to so great a general must be gained by
no stale or usual method, but by making interest most
zealously. He wished to lighten the scandal of his cruelty by
the pretence of affection to his king. The people, thus
tormented, vented their complaint of their trouble in silent
groans. None had the spirit to lift up his voice in public
against this season of misery. No one had become so bold as to
complain openly of the affliction that was falling upon them.
Inward resentment vexed the hearts of men, secretly indeed,
but all the more bitterly.
When Gotar, the King of Norway, heard this, he
assembled his soldiers, and said that the Danes were disgusted
with their own king, and longed for another if they could get
the opportunity; that he had himself resolved to lead an army
thither, and that Denmark would be easy to seize if attacked.
Frode's government of his country was as covetous as it was
cruel. Then Erik rose up and gainsaid the project with
contrary reasons. "We remember," he said, "how often coveters
of other men's goods lose their own. He who snatches at both
has oft lost both. It must be a very strong bird that can
wrest the prey from the claws of another. It is idle for thee
to be encouraged by the internal jealousies of the country,
for these are oft blown away by the approach of an enemy. For
though the Danes now seem divided in counsel, yet they will
soon be of one mind to meet the foe. The wolves have often
made peace between the quarrelling swine. Every man prefers a
leader of his own land to a foreigner, and every province is
warmer in loyalty to a native than to a stranger king. For
Frode will not await thee at home, but will intercept thee
abroad as thou comest. Eagles claw each other with their
talons, and fowls fight fronting. Thou thyself knowest that
the keen sight of the wise man must leave no cause for
repentance. Thou hast an ample guard of nobles. Keep thou
quiet as thou art; indeed thou wilt almost be able to find out
by means of others what are thy resources for war. Let the
soldiers first try the fortunes of their king. Provide in
peace for thine own safety, and risk others if thou dost
undertake the enterprise: better that the slave should perish
than the master. Let thy servant do for thee what the tongs do
for the smith, who by the aid of his iron tool guards his hand
from scorching, and saves his fingers from burning. Learn thou
also, by using thy men, to spare and take thought for
thyself."
So spake Erik, and Gotar, who had hitherto held
him a man of no parts, now marvelled that he had graced his
answer with sentences so choice and weighty, and gave him the
name of Shrewd-spoken, thinking that his admirable wisdom
deserved some title. For the young man's reputation had been
kept in the shade by the exceeding brilliancy of his brother
Roller. Erik begged that some substantial gift should be added
to the name, declaring that the bestowal of the title ought to
be graced by a present besides. The king gave him a ship, and
the oarsmen called it "Skroter." Now Erik and Roller were the
sons of Ragnar, the champion, and children of one father by
different mothers; Roller's mother and Erik's stepmother was
named Kraka.
And so, by leave of Gotar, the task of making a
raid on the Danes fell to one Hrafn. He was encountered by
Odd, who had at that time the greatest prestige among the
Danes as a rover, for he was such a skilled magician that he
could range over the sea without a ship, and could often raise
tempests by his spells, and wreck the vessels of the enemy.
Accordingly, that he might not have to condescend to pit his
sea-forces against the rovers, he used to ruffle the waters by
enchantment, and cause them to shipwreck his foes. To traders
this man was ruthless, but to tillers of the soil he was
merciful, for he thought less of merchandise than of the
plough-handle, but rated the clean business of the country
higher than the toil for filthy lucre. When he began to fight
with the Northmen he so dulled the sight of the enemy by the
power of his spells that they thought the drawn swords of the
Danes cast their beams from afar off, and sparkled as if
aflame. Moreover, their vision was so blunted that they could
not so much as look upon the sword when it was drawn from the
sheath: the dazzle was too much for their eyesight, which
could not endure the glittering mirage. So Hrafn and many of
his men were slain, and only six vessels slipped back to
Norway to teach the king that it was not so easy to crush the
Danes. The survivors also spread the news that Frode trusted
only in the help of his champions, and reigned against the
will of his people, for his rule had become a tyranny.
In order to examine this rumour, Roller, who
was a great traveller abroad, and eager to visit unknown
parts, made a vow that he would get into the company of Frode.
But Erik declared that, splendid as were his bodily parts, he
had been rash in pronouncing the vow. At last, seeing him
persisting stubbornly in his purpose, Erik bound himself under
a similar vow; and the king promised them that he would give
them for companions whomsoever they approved by their choice.
The brethren, therefore, first resolved to visit their father
and beg for the stores and the necessaries that were wanted
for so long a journey. He welcomed them paternally, and on the
morrow took them to the forest to inspect the herd, for the
old man was wealthy in cattle. Also he revealed to them
treasures which had long lain hid in caverns of the earth; and
they were suffered to gather up whatsoever of these they
would. The boon was accepted as heartily as it was offered: so
they took the riches out of the ground, and bore away what
pleased them.
Their rowers meanwhile were either refreshing
themselves or exercising their skill with casting weights.
Some sped leaping, some running; others tried their strength
by sturdily hurling stones; others tested their archery by
drawing the bow. Thus they essayed to strengthen themselves
with divers exercises. Some again tried to drink themselves
into a drowse. Roller was sent by his father to find out what
had passed at home in the meanwhile. And when he saw smoke
coming from his mother's hut he went up outside, and,
stealthily applying his eye, saw through the little chink and
into the house, where he perceived his mother stirring a
cooked mess in an ugly-looking pot. Also he looked up at three
snakes hanging from above by a thin cord, from whose mouths
flowed a slaver which dribbled drops of moisture on the meal.
Now two of these were pitchy of hue, while the third seemed to
have whitish scales, and was hung somewhat higher than the
others. This last had a fastening on its tail, while the
others were held by a cord round their bellies. Roller thought
the affair looked like magic, but was silent on what he had
seen, that he might not be thought to charge his mother with
sorcery. For he did not know that the snakes were naturally
harmless, or how much strength was being brewed for that meal.
Then Ragnar and Erik came up, and, when they saw the smoke
issuing from the cottage, entered and went to sit at meat.
When they were at table, and Kraka's son and stepson were
about to eat together, she put before them a small dish
containing a piebald mess, part looking pitchy, but spotted
with specks of yellow, while part was whitish: the pottage
having taken a different hue answering to the different
appearance of the snakes. And when each had tasted a single
morsel, Erik, judging the feast not by the colours but by the
inward strengthening effected, turned the dish around very
quickly, and transferred to himself the part which was black
but compounded of stronger juices; and, putting over to Roller
the whitish part which had first been set before himself,
throve more on his supper. And, to avoid showing that the
exchange was made on purpose, he said, "Thus does prow become
stern when the sea boils up." The man had no little
shrewdness, thus to use the ways of a ship to dissemble his
cunning act.
So Erik, now refreshed by this lucky meal,
attained by its inward working to the highest pitch of human
wisdom. For the potency of the meal bred in him the fulness of
all kinds of knowledge to an incredible degree, so that he had
cunning to interpret even the utterances of wild beasts and
cattle. For he was not only well versed in all the affairs of
men, but he could interpret the particular feelings which
brutes experienced from the sounds which expressed them. He
was also gifted with an eloquence so courteous and graceful,
that he adorned whatsoever he desired to expound with a flow
of witty adages. But when Kraka came up, and found that the
dish had been turned round, and that Erik had eaten the
stronger share of the meal, she lamented that the good luck
she had bred for her son should have passed to her stepson.
Soon she began to sigh, and entreat Eric that he should never
fail to help his brother, whose mother had heaped on him
fortune so rich and strange: for by tasting a single savoury
meal he had clearly attained sovereign wit and eloquence,
besides the promise of success in combat. She added also, that
Roller was almost as capable of good counsel, and that he
should not utterly miss the dainty that had been intended for
him. She also told him that in case of extreme and violent
need, he could find speedy help by calling on her name;
declaring that she trusted partially in her divine attributes,
and that, consorting as she did in a manner with the gods, she
wielded an innate and heavenly power. Erik said that he was
naturally drawn to stand by his brother, and that the bird was
infamous which fouled its own nest. But Kraka was more vexed
by her own carelessness than weighed down by her son's
ill-fortune: for in old time it made a craftsman bitterly
ashamed to be outwitted by his own cleverness.
Then Kraka, accompanied by her husband, took
away the brothers on their journey to the sea. They embarked
in a single ship, but soon attached two others. They had
already reached the coast of Denmark, when, reconnoitering,
they learned that seven ships had come up at no great
distance. Then Erik bade two men who could speak the Danish
tongue well, to go to them unclothed, and, in order to spy
better, to complain to Odd of their nakedness, as if Erik had
caused it, and to report when they had made careful scrutiny.
These men were received as friends by Odd, and hunted for
every plan of the general with their sharp ears. He had
determined to attack the enemy unawares at daybreak, that he
might massacre them the more speedily while they were swathed
in their night garments: for he said that men's bodies were
wont to be most dull and heavy at that hour of dawn. He also
told them, thereby hastening what was to prove his own
destruction, that his ships were laden with stones fit for
throwing. The spies slipped off in the first sleep of the
night, reported that Odd had filled all his vessels with
pebbles, and also told everything else they had heard. Erik
now quite understood the case, and, when he considered the
smallness of his own fleet, thought that he must call the
waters to destroy the enemy, and win their aid for himself.
So he got into a boat and rowed, pulling
silently, close up to the keels of the enemy; and gradually,
by screwing in an auger, he bored the planks (a device
practiced by Hadding and also by Frode), nearest to the water,
and soon made good his return, the oar-beat being scarce
audible. Now he bore himself so warily, that not one of the
watchers noted his approach or departure. As he rowed off, the
water got in through the chinks of Odd's vessels, and sank
them, so that they were seen disappearing in the deep, as the
water flooded them more and more within. The weight of the
stones inside helped them mightily to sink. The billows were
washing away the thwarts, and the sea was flush with the
decks, when Odd, seeing the vessels almost on a level with the
waves, ordered the heavy seas that had been shipped to be
baled out with pitchers. And so, while the crews were toiling
on to protect the sinking parts of the vessels from the flood
of waters, the enemy hove close up. Thus, as they fell to
their arms, the flood came upon them harder, and as they
prepared to fight, they found they must swim for it. Waves,
not weapons, fought for Erik, and the sea, which he had
himself Enabled to approach and do harm, battled for him. Thus
Erik made better use of the billow than of the steel, and by
the effectual aid of the waters seemed to fight in his own
absence, the ocean lending him defence. The victory was given
to his craft; for a flooded ship could not endure a battle.
Thus was Odd slain with all his crew; the look-outs were
captured, and it was found that no man escaped to tell the
tale of the disaster.
Erik, when the massacre was accomplished, made
a rapid retreat, and put in at the isle Lesso. Finding nothing
there to appease his hunger, he sent the spoil homeward on two
ships, which were to bring back supplies for another year. He
tried to go by himself to the king in a single ship. So he put
in to Zealand, and the sailors ran about over the shore, and
began to cut down the cattle: for they must either ease their
hunger or perish of famine. So they killed the herd, skinned
the carcases, and cast them on board. When the owners of the
cattle found this out, they hastily pursued the free-booters
with a fleet. And when Erik found that he was being attacked
by the owners of the cattle, he took care that the carcases of
the slaughtered cows should be tied with marked ropes and
hidden under water. Then, when the Zealanders came up, he gave
them leave to look about and see if any of the carcases they
were seeking were in his hands; saying that a ship's corners
were too narrow to hide things. Unable to find a carcase
anywhere, they turned their suspicions on others, and thought
the real criminals were guiltless of the plunder. Since no
traces of free-booting were to be seen, they fancied that
others had injured them, and pardoned the culprits. As they
sailed off, Erik lifted the carcase out of the water and took
it in.
Meantime Frode learnt that Odd and his men had
gone down. For a widespread rumour of the massacre had got
wind, though the author of the deed was unknown. There were
men, however, who told how they had seen three sails putting
in to shore, and departing again northwards. Then Erik went to
the harbour, not far from which Frode was tarrying, and, the
moment that he stepped out of the ship, tripped inadvertently,
and came tumbling to the ground. He found in the slip a
presage of a lucky issue, and forecast better results from
this mean beginning. When Grep heard of his coming, he
hastened down to the sea, intending to assail with chosen and
pointed phrases the man whom he had heard was better- spoken
than all other folk. Grep's eloquence was not so much
excellent as impudent, for he surpassed all in stubbornness of
speech. So he began the dispute with reviling, and assailed
Erik as follows:
Grep: "Fool, who art thou? What idle quest is
thine? Tell me, whence or whither dost thou journey? What is
thy road? What thy desire? Who thy father? What thy lineage?
Those have strength beyond others who have never left their
own homes, and the Luck of kings is their houseluck. For the
things of a vile man are acceptable unto few, and seldom are
the deeds of the hated pleasing."
Erik: "Ragnar is my father; eloquence clothes
my tongue; I have ever loved virtue only. Wisdom hath been my
one desire; I have travelled many ways over the world, and
seen the different manners of men. The mind of the fool can
keep no bounds in aught: it is base and cannot control its
feelings. The use of sails is better than being drawn by the
oar; the gale troubles the waters, a drearier gust the land.
For rowing goes through the seas and lying the lands; and it
is certain that the lands are ruled with the lips, but the
seas with the hand."
Grep: "Thou art thought to be as full of
quibbling as a cock of dirt. Thou stinkest heavy with filth,
and reekest of nought but sin. There is no need to lengthen
the plea against a buffoon, whose strength is in an empty and
voluble tongue."
Erik: "By Hercules, if I mistake not, the
coward word is wont to come back to the utterer. The gods with
righteous endeavour bring home to the speaker words cast forth
without knowledge. As soon as we espy the sinister ears of the
wolf, we believe that the wolf himself is near. Men think no
credit due to him that hath no credit, whom report accuses of
treachery."
Grep: "Shameless boy, owl astray from the path,
night-owl in the darkness, thou shalt pay for thy reckless
words. Thou shalt be sorry for the words thou now belchest
forth madly, and shalt pay with thy death for thy unhallowed
speech. Lifeless thou shalt pasture crows on thy bloodless
corpse, to be a morsel for beasts, a prey to the ravenous
bird."
Erik: "The boding of the coward, and the will
that is trained to evil, have never kept themselves within due
measure. He who betrays his lord, he who conceives foul
devices, will be as great a snare to himself as to his
friends. Whoso fosters a wolf in his house is thought to feed
a thief and a pest for his own hearth."
Grep: "I did not, as thou thinkest, beguile the
queen, but I was the guardian of her tender estate. She
increased my fortunes, and her favour first brought me gifts
and strength, and wealth and counsel."
Erik: "Lo, thy guilty disquiet lies heavy on
thee; that man's freedom is safest whose mind remains
untainted. Whoso asks a slave to be a friend, is deceived;
often the henchman hurts his master."
At this Grep, shorn of his glibness of
rejoinder, set spurs to his horse and rode away. Now when he
reached home, he filled the palace with uproarious and
vehement clamour; and shouting that he had been worsted in
words, roused all his soldiers to fight, as though he would
avenge by main force his luckless warfare of tongues. For he
swore that he would lay the host of the foreigners under the
claws of eagles. But the king warned him that he should give
his frenzy pause for counsel, that blind plans were commonly
hurtful; that nothing could be done both cautiously and
quickly at once; that headstrong efforts were the worst
obstacle; and lastly, that it was unseemly to attack a handful
with a host. Also, said he, the sagacious man was he who could
bridle a raging spirit, and stop his frantic empetuosity in
time. Thus the king forced the headlong rage of the young man
to yield to reflection. But he could not wholly recall to
self- control the frenzy of his heated mind, or prevent the
champion of wrangles, abashed by his hapless debate, and
finding armed vengeance refused him, from asking leave at
least to try his sorceries by way of revenge. He gained his
request, and prepared to go back to the shore with a chosen
troop of wizards. So he first put on a pole the severed head
of a horse that had been sacrificed to the gods, and setting
sticks beneath displayed the jaws grinning agape; hoping that
he would foil the first efforts of Erik by the horror of this
wild spectacle. For he supposed that the silly souls of the
barbarians would give away at the bogey of a protruding neck.
Erik was already on his road to meet them, and
saw the head from afar off, and, understanding the whole foul
contrivance, he bade his men keep silent and behave warily; no
man was to be rash or hasty of speech, lest by some careless
outburst they might give some opening to the sorceries; adding
that if talking happened to he needed, he would speak for all.
And they were now parted by a river; when the wizards, in
order to dislodge Erik from the approach to the bridge, set up
close to the river, on their own side, the pole on which they
had fixed the horse's head. Nevertheless Erik made dauntlessly
for the bridge, and said: "On the bearer fall the ill-luck of
what he bears! May a better issue attend our steps! Evil
befall the evil-workers! Let the weight of the ominous burden
crush the carrier! Let the better auguries bring us safety!"
And it happened according to his prayer. For straightway the
head was shaken off, the stick fell and crushed the bearer.
And so all that array of sorceries was baffled at the bidding
of a single curse, and extinguished.
Then, as Erik advanced a little, it came into
his mind that strangers ought to fix on gifts for the king. So
he carefully wrapped up in his robe a piece of ice which he
happened to find, and managed to take it to the king by way of
a present. But when they reached the palace he sought entrance
first, and bade his brother follow close behind. Already the
slaves of the king, in order to receive him with mockery as he
entered, had laid a slippery hide on the threshold; and when
Erik stepped upon it, they suddenly jerked it away by dragging
a rope, and would have tripped him as he stood upon it, had
not Roller, following behind, caught his brother on his breast
as he tottered. So Erik, having half fallen, said that "bare
was the back of the brotherless." And when Gunwar said that
such a trick ought not to be permitted by a king, the king
condemned the folly of the messenger who took no heed against
treachery. And thus he excused his flout by the heedlessness
of the man he flouted.
Within the palace was blazing a fire, which the
aspect of the season required: for it was now gone midwinter.
By it, in different groups, sat the king on one side and the
champions on the other. These latter, when Erik joined them,
uttered gruesome sounds like things howling. The king stopped
the clamour, telling them that the noises of wild beasts ought
not to be in the breasts of men. Erik added, that it was the
way of dogs, for all the others to set up barking when one
started it; for all folk by their bearing betrayed their birth
and revealed their race. But when Koll, who was the keeper of
the gifts offered to the king, asked him whether he had
brought any presents with him, he produced the ice which he
had hidden in his breast. And when he had handed it to Koll
across the hearth, he purposely let it go into the fire, as
though it had slipped from the hand of the receiver. All
present saw the shining fragment, and it seemed as though
molten metal had fallen into the fire. Erik, maintaining that
it had been jerked away by the carelessness of him who took
it, asked what punishment was due to the loser of the gift.
The king consulted the opinion of the queen,
who advised him not to relax the statute of the law which he
had passed, whereby he gave warning that all who lost presents
that were transmitted to him should be punished with death.
Everyone else also said that the penalty by law appointed
ought not to be remitted. And so the king, being counselled to
allow the punishment as inevitable, gave leave for Koll to be
hanged.
Then Frode began to accost Erik thus: "O thou,
wantoning in insolent phrase, in boastful and bedizened
speech, whence dost thou say that thou hast come hither, and
why?"
Erik answered: "I came from Rennes Isle, and I
took my seat by a stone."
Frode rejoined: "I ask, whither thou wentest
next?"
Erik answered. "I went off from the stone
riding on a beam, and often again took station by a stone."
Frode replied: "I ask thee whither thou next
didst bend thy course, or where the evening found thee?"
Then said Erik: "Leaving a crag, I came to a
rock, and likewise lay by a stone."
Frode said: "The boulders lay thick in those
parts."
Erik answered: "Yet thicker lies the sand,
plain to see."
Frode said: "Tell what thy business was, and
whither thou struckest off thence."
Then said Erik: "Leaving the rock, as my ship
ran on, I found a dolphin."
Frode said: "Now thou hast said something
fresh, though both these things are common in the sea: but I
would know what path took thee after that?"
Erik answered: "After a dolphin I went to a
dolphin."
Frode said: "The herd of dolphins is somewhat
common."
Then said Erik: "It does swim somewhat commonly
on the waters."
Frode said: "I would fain blow whither thou
wert borne on thy toilsome journey after leaving the
dolphins?"
Erik answered: "I soon came upon the trunk of a
tree."
Frode rejoined: "Whither didst thou next pass
on thy journey?"
Then said Erik: "From a trunk I passed on to a
log."
Frode said: "That spot must he thick with
trees, since thou art always calling the abodes of thy hosts
by the name of trunks."
Erik replied: "There is a thicker place in the
woods."
Frode went on: "Relate whither thou next didst
bear thy steps."
Erik answered: "Oft again I made my way to the
lopped timbers of the woods; but, as I rested there, wolves
that were sated on human carcases licked the points of the
spears. There a lance- head was shaken from the shaft of the
king, and it was the grandson of Fridleif."
Frode said: "I am bewildered, and know not what
to think about the dispute: for thou hast beguiled my mind
with very dark riddling."
Erik answered: "Thou owest me the prize for
this contest that is finished: for under a veil I have
declared to thee certain things thou hast ill understood. For
under the name I gave before of `spear-point' I signified Odd,
whom my hand had slain."
And when the queen also had awarded him the
palm of eloquence and the prize for flow of speech, the king
straightway took a bracelet from his arm, and gave it to him
as the appointed reward, adding: "I would fain learn from
thyself thy debate with Grep, wherein he was not ashamed
openly to avow himself vanquished."
Then said Erik: "He was smitten with shame for
the adultery wherewith he was taxed; for since he could bring
no defence, he confessed that he had committed it with thy
wife."
The king turned to Hanund and asked her in what
spirit she received the charge; and she not only confessed her
guilt by a cry, but also put forth in her face a blushing
signal of her sin, and gave manifest token of her fault. The
king, observing not only her words, but also the signs of her
countenance, but doubting with what sentence he should punish
the criminal, let the queen settle by her own choice the
punishment which her crime deserved. When she learnt that the
sentence committed to her concerned her own guilt, she wavered
awhile as she pondered how to appraise her transgression; but
Grep sprang up and ran forward to transfix Erik with a spear,
wishing to buy off his own death by slaying the accuser. But
Roller fell on him with drawn sword, and dealt him first the
doom he had himself purposed.
Erik said: "The service of kin is best for the
helpless."
And Roller said: "In sore needs good men should
be dutifully summoned."
Then Frode said: "I think it will happen to you
according to the common saying, `that the striker sometimes
has short joy of his stroke', and `that the hand is seldom
long glad of the smiting'."
Erik answered: "The man must not be impeached
whose deed justice excuses. For my work is as far as from that
of Grep, as an act of self-defence is from an attack upon
another."
Then the brethren of Grep began to spring up
and clamour and swear that they would either bring avengers
upon the whole fleet of Erik, or would fight him and ten
champions with him.
Erik said to them: "Sick men have to devise by
craft some provision for their journey. He whose sword-point
is dull should only probe things that are soft and tender. He
who has a blunt knife must search out the ways to cut joint by
joint. Since, therefore, it is best for a man in distress to
delay the evil, and nothing is more fortunate in trouble than
to stave off hard necessity, I ask three days' space to get
ready, provided that I may obtain from the king the skill of a
freshly slain ox."
Frode answered: "He who fell on a hide deserves
a hide"; thus openly taunting the asker with his previous
fall. But Erik, when the hide was given him, made some
sandals, which he smeared with a mixture of tar and sand, in
order to plant his steps the more firmly, and fitted them on
to the feet of himself and his people. At last, having
meditated what spot he should choose for the fight -- for he
said that he was unskilled in combat by land and in all
warfare -- he demanded it should be on the frozen sea. To this
both sides agreed. The king granted a truce for preparations,
and bade the sons of Westmar withdraw, saying that it was
amiss that a guest, even if he had deserved ill should be
driven from his lodging. Then he went back to examine into the
manner of the punishment, which he had left to the queen's own
choice to exact. For she forebore to give judgment, and begged
pardon for her slip. Erik added, that woman's errors must
often be forgiven, and that punishment ought not to be
inflicted, unless amendment were unable to get rid of her
fault. So the king pardoned Hanund. As twilight drew near,
Erik said: "With Gotar, not only are rooms provided when the
soldiers are coming to feast at the banquet, but each is
appointed a separate place and seat where he is to lie." Then
the king gave up for their occupation the places where his own
champions had sat; and next the servants brought the banquet.
But Erik, knowing well the courtesy of the king, which made
him forbid them to use up any of the meal that was left, cast
away the piece of which he had tasted very little, calling
whole portions broken bits of food. And so, as the dishes
dwindled, the servants brought up fresh ones to the lacking
and shamefaced guests, thus spending on a little supper what
might have served for a great banquet.
So the king said: "Are the soldiers of Gotar
wont to squander the meat after once touching it, as if it
were so many pared-off crusts? And to spurn the first dishes
as if they were the last morsels?"
Erik said: "Uncouthness claims no place in the
manners of Gotar, neither does any disorderly habit feign
there."
But Frode said: "Then thy manners are not those
of thy lord, and thou hast proved that thou hast not taken all
wisdom to heart. For he who goes against the example of his
elders shows himself a deserter and a renegade."
Then said Erik: "The wise man must be taught by
the wiser. For knowledge grows by learning, and instruction is
advanced by doctrine."
Frode rejoined: "This affectation of thine of
superfluous words, what exemplary lesson will it teach me?"
Erik said: "A loyal few are a safer defence for
a king than many traitors."
Frode said to him: "Wilt thou then show us
closer allegiance than the rest?"
Erik answered: "No man ties the unborn (horse)
to the crib, or the unbegotten to the stall. For thou hast not
yet experienced all things. Besides, with Gotar there is
always a mixture of drinking with feasting; liquor, over and
above, and as well as meat, is the joy of the reveller."
Frode said: "Never have I found a more
shameless beggar of meat and drink."
Erik replied: "Few reckon the need of the
silent, or measure the wants of him who holds his peace."
Then the king bade his sister bring forth the
drink in a great goblet. Erik caught hold of her right hand
and of the goblet she offered at the same time, and said:
"Noblest of kings, hath thy benignity granted me this present?
Dost thou assure me that what I hold shall be mine as an
irrevocable gift?"
The king, thinking that he was only asking for
the cup, declared it was a gift. But Erik drew the maiden to
him, as if she was given with the cup. When the king saw it,
he said: "A fool is shown by his deed; with us freedom of
maidens is ever held inviolate."
Then Erik, feigning that he would cut off the
girl's hand with his sword, as though it had been granted
under the name of the cup, said: "If I have taken more than
thou gavest, or if I am rash to keep the whole, let me at
least get some." The king saw his mistake in his promise, and
gave him the maiden, being loth to undo his heedlessness by
fickleness, and that the weight of his pledge might seem the
greater; though it is held an act more of ripe judgment than
of unsteadfastness to take back a foolish promise.
Then, taking from Erik security that he would
return, he sent him to the ships; for the time appointed for
the battle was at hand. Erik and his men went on to the sea,
then covered near with ice; and, thanks to the stability of
their sandals, felled the enemy, whose footing was slippery
and unsteady. For Frode had decreed that no man should help
either side if it wavered or were distressed. Then he went
back in triumph to the king. So Gotwar, sorrowing at the
destruction of her children who had miserably perished, and
eager to avenge them, announced that it would please her to
have a flyting with Erik, on condition that she should gage a
heavy necklace and he his life; so that if he conquered he
should win gold, but if he gave in, death. Erik agreed to the
contest, and the gage was deposited with Gunwar. So Gotwar
began thus:
"Quando tuam limas admissa cote bipennem,
Nonne terit tremulas mentula quassa nates?"
Erik rejoined:
"Ut cuivis natura pilos in corpore sevit,
Omnis nempe suo barba ferenda loco est.
Re Veneris homines artus agitare necesse est;
Motus quippe suos nam labor omnis habet.
Cum natis excipitur nate, vel cum subdita penem
Vulva capit, quid ad haec addere mas renuit?"
Powerless to answer this, Gotwar had to give
the gold to the man whom she had meant to kill, and thus
wasted a lordly gift instead of punishing the slayer of her
son. For her ill fate was crowned, instead of her ill-will
being avenged. First bereaved, and then silenced by furious
words, she lost at once her wealth and all reward of her
eloquence. She made the man blest who had taken away her
children, and enriched her bereaver with a present: and took
away nothing to make up the slaughter of her sons save the
reproach of ignorance and the loss of goods. Westmar, when he
saw this, determined to attack the man by force, since he was
the stronger of tongue, and laid down the condition that the
reward of the conqueror should be the death of the conquered,
so that the life of both parties was plainly at stake. Erik,
unwilling to be thought quicker of tongue than of hand, did
not refuse the terms.
Now the manner of combat was as follows. A
ring, plaited of withy or rope, used to be offered to the
combatants for them to drag away by wrenching it with a great
effort of foot and hand; and the prize went to the stronger,
for if either of the combatants could wrench it from the
other, he was awarded the victory. Erik struggled in this
manner, and, grasping the rope sharply, wrested it out of the
hands of his opponent. When Erode saw this, he said: "I think
it is hard to tug at a rope with a strong man."
And Erik said: "Hard, at any rate, when a
tumour is in the body or a hunch sits on the back."
And straightway, thrusting his foot forth, he
broke the infirm neck and back of the old man, and crushed
him. And so Westmar failed to compass his revenge: zealous to
retaliate, he fell into the portion of those who need
revenging; being smitten down even as those whose slaughter he
had desired to punish.
Now Frode intended to pierce Erik by throwing a
dagger at him. But Gunwar knew her brother's purpose, and
said, in order to warn her betrothed of his peril, that no man
could be wise who took no forethought for himself. This speech
warned Erik to ward off the treachery, and he shrewdly
understood the counsel of caution. For at once he sprang up
and said that the glory of the wise man would be victorious,
but that guile was its own punishment; thus censuring his
treacherous intent in very gentle terms. But the king suddenly
flung his knife at him, yet was too late to hit him; for he
sprang aside, and the steel missed its mark and ran into the
wall opposite. Then said Erik: "Gifts should be handed to
friends, and not thrown; thou hadst made the present
acceptable if thou hadst given the sheath to keep the blade
company."
On this request the king at once took the
sheath from his girdle and gave it to him, being forced to
abate his hatred by the self- control of his foe. Thus he was
mollified by the prudent feigning of the other, and with
goodwill gave him for his own the weapon which he had cast
with ill will. And thus Erik, by taking the wrong done him in
a dissembling manner, turned it into a favour, accepting as a
splendid gift the steel which had been meant to slay him. For
he put a generous complexion on what Frode had done with
intent to harm. Then they gave themselves up to rest. In the
night Gunwar awoke Erik silently, and pointed out to him that
they ought to fly, saying that it was very expedient to return
with safe chariot ere harm was done. He went with her to the
shore, where he happened to find the king's fleet beached: so,
cutting away part of the sides, he made it unseaworthy, and by
again replacing some laths he patched it so that the damage
might be unnoticed by those who looked at it. Then he caused
the vessel whither he and his company had retired to put off a
little from the shore.
The king prepared to give them chase with his
mutilated ships, but soon the waves broke through; and though
he was very heavily laden with his armour, he began to swim
off among the rest, having become more anxious to save his own
life than to attack that of others. The bows plunged over into
the sea, the tide flooded in and swept the rowers from their
seats. When Erik and Roller saw this they instantly flung
themselves into the deep water, spurning danger, and by
swimming picked up the king, who was tossing about. Thrice the
waves had poured over him and borne him down when Erik caught
him by the hair, and lifted him out of the sea. The remaining
crowd of the wrecked either sank in the waters, or got with
trouble to the land. The king was stripped of his dripping
attire and swathed round with dry garments, and the water
poured in floods from his chest as he kept belching it; his
voice also seemed to fail under the exhaustion of continual
pantings. At last heat was restored to his limbs, which were
numbed with cold, and his breathing became quicker. He had not
fully got back his strength, and could sit but not rise.
Gradually his native force returned. But when he was asked at
last whether he sued for life and grace, he put his hand to
his eyes, and strove to lift up their downcast gaze. But as,
little by little, power came back to his body, and as his
voice became more assured, he said:
"By this light, which I am loth to look on, by
this heaven which I behold and drink in with little joy, I
beseech and conjure you not to persuade me to use either any
more. I wished to die; ye have saved me in vain. I was not
allowed to perish in the waters; at least I will die by the
sword. I was unconquered before; thine, Erik, was the first
wit to which I yielded: I was all the more unhappy, because I
had never been beaten by men of note, and now I let a low-born
man defeat me. This is great cause for a king to be ashamed.
This is a good and sufficient reason for a general to die; it
is right that he should care for nothing so much as glory. If
he want that, then take it that he lacks all else. For nothing
about a king is more on men's lips than his repute. I was
credited with the height of understanding and eloquence. But I
have been stripped of both the things wherein I was thought to
excel, and am all the more miserable because I, the conqueror
of kings, am seen conquered by a peasant. Why grant life to
him whom thou hast robbed of honour? I have lost sister,
realm, treasure, household gear, and, what is greater than
them all, renown: I am luckless in all chances, and in all thy
good fortune is confessed. Why am I to be kept to live on for
all this ignominy? What freedom can be so happy for me that it
can wipe out all the shame of captivity? What will all the
following time bring for me? It can beget nothing but long
remorse in my mind, and will savour only of past woes. What
will prolonging of life avail, if it only brings back the
memory of sorrow? To the stricken nought is pleasanter than
death, and that decease is happy which comes at a man's wish,
for it cuts not short any sweetness of his days, but
annihilates his disgust at all things. Life in prosperity, but
death in adversity, is best to seek. No hope of better things
tempts me to long for life. What hap can quite repair my
shattered fortunes? And by now, had ye not rescued me in my
peril, I should have forgotten even these. What though thou
shouldst give me back my realm, restore my sister, and renew
my treasure? Thou canst never repair my renown. Nothing that
is patched up can have the lustre of the unimpaired, and
rumour will recount for ages that Frode was taken captive.
Moreover, if ye reckon the calamities I have inflicted on you,
I have deserved to die at your hands; if ye recall the harms I
have done, ye will repent your kindness. Ye will be ashamed of
having aided a foe, if ye consider how savagely he treated
you. Why do ye spare the guilty? Why do ye stay your hand from
the throat of your persecutor? It is fitting that the lot
which I had prepared for you should come home to myself. I own
that if I had happened to have you in my power as ye now have
me, I should have paid no heed to compassion. But if I am
innocent before you in act, I am guilty at least in will. I
pray you, let my wrongful intention, which sometimes is
counted to stand for the deed, recoil upon me. If ye refuse me
death by the sword I will take care to kill myself with my own
hand."
Erik rejoined thus: "I pray that the gods may
turn thee from the folly of thy purpose; turn thee, I say,
that thou mayst not try to end a most glorious life
abominably. Why, surely the gods themselves have forbidden
that a man who is kind to others should commit unnatural
self-murder. Fortune has tried thee to find out with what
spirit thou wouldst meet adversity. Destiny has proved thee,
not brought thee low. No sorrow has been inflicted on thee
which a happier lot cannot efface. Thy prosperity has not been
changed; only a warning has been given thee. No man behaves
with self-control in prosperity who has not learnt to endure
adversity. Besides, the whole use of blessings is reaped after
misfortunes have been graciously acknowledged. Sweeter is the
joy which follows on the bitterness of fate. Wilt thou shun
thy life because thou hast once had a drenching, and the
waters closed over thee? But if the waters can crush thy
spirit, when wilt thou with calm courage bear the sword? Who
would not reckon swimming away in his armour more to his glory
than to his shame? How many men would think themselves happy
were they unhappy with thy fortune? The sovereignty is still
thine; thy courage is in its prime; thy years are ripening;
thou canst hope to compass more than thou hast yet achieved. I
would not find thee fickle enough to wish, not only to shun
hardships, but also to fling away thy life, because thou
couldst not bear them. None is so unmanly as he who from fear
of adversity loses heart to live. No wise man makes up for his
calamities by dying. Wrath against another is foolish, but
against a man's self it is foolhardy; and it is a coward
frenzy which dooms its owner. But if thou go without need to
thy death for some wrong suffered, or for some petty
perturbation of spirit, whom dost thou leave behind to avenge
thee? Who is so mad that he would wish to punish the
fickleness of fortune by destroying himself? What man has
lived so prosperously but that ill fate has sometimes stricken
him? Hast thou enjoyed felicity unbroken and passed thy days
without a shock, and now, upon a slight cloud of sadness, dost
thou prepare to quit thy life, only to save thy anguish? If
thou bear trifles so ill, how shalt thou endure the heavier
frowns of fortune? Callow is the man who has never tasted of
the cup of sorrow; and no man who has not suffered hardships
is temperate in enjoying ease. Wilt thou, who shouldst have
been a pillar of courage, show a sign of a palsied spirit?
Born of a brave sire, wilt thou display utter impotence? Wilt
thou fall so far from thy ancestors as to turn softer than
women? Hast thou not yet begun thy prime, and art thou already
taken with weariness of life? Whoever set such an example
before? Shall the grandson of a famous man, and the child of
the unvanquished, be too weak to endure a slight gust of
adversity? Thy nature portrays the courage of thy sires; none
has conquered thee, only thine own heedlessness has hurt thee.
We snatched thee from peril, we did not subdue thee; wilt thou
give us hatred for love, and set our friendship down as
wrongdoing? Our service should have appeased thee, and not
troubled thee. May the gods never desire thee to go so far in
frenzy, as to persist in branding thy preserver as a traitor!
Shall we be guilty before thee in a matter wherein we do thee
good? Shall we draw anger on us for our service? Wilt thou
account him thy foe whom thou hast to thank for thy life? For
thou wert not free when we took thee, but in distress, and we
came in time to help thee. And, behold, I restore thy
treasure, thy wealth, thy goods. If thou thinkest thy sister
was betrothed to me over-hastily, let her marry the man whom
thou commandest; for her chastity remains inviolate. Moreover,
if thou wilt accept me, I wish to fight for thee. Beware lest
thou wrongfully steel thy mind in anger. No loss of power has
shattered thee, none of thy freedom has been forfeited. Thou
shalt see that I am obeying, not commanding thee. I agree to
any sentence thou mayst pronounce against my life. Be assured
that thou art as strong here as-in thy palace; thou hast the
same power to rule here as in thy court. Enact concerning us
here whatsoever would have been thy will in the palace: we are
ready to obey." Thus much said Erik.
Now this speech softened the king towards
himself as much as towards his foe. Then, everything being
arranged and made friendly, they returned to the shore. The
king ordered that Erik and his sailors should be taken in
carriages. But when they reached the palace he had an assembly
summoned, to which he called Erik, and under the pledge of
betrothal gave him his sister and command over a hundred men.
Then he added that the queen would be a weariness to him, and
that the daughter of Gotar had taken his liking. He must,
therefore, have a fresh embassy, and the business could best
be done by Erik, for whose efforts nothing seemed too hard. He
also said that he would stone Gotwar to death for her
complicity in concealing the crime; but Hanund he would
restore to her father, that he might not have a traitress
against his life dwelling amongst the Danes. Erik approved his
plans, and promised his help to carry out his bidding; except
that he declared that it would be better to marry the queen,
when she had been put away, to Roller, of whom his sovereignty
need have no fears. This opinion Frode received reverentially,
as though it were some lesson vouchsafed from above. The queen
also, that she might not seem to be driven by compulsion,
complied, as women will, and declared that there was no
natural necessity to grieve, and that all distress of spirit
was a creature of fancy: and, moreover, that one ought not to
bewail the punishment that befell one's deserts. And so the
brethren celebrated their marriages together, one wedding the
sister of the king, and the other his divorced queen.
Then they sailed back to Norway, taking their
wives with them. For the women could not be torn from the side
of their husbands, either by distance of journey or by dread
of peril, but declared that they would stick to their lords
like a feather to something shaggy. They found that Ragnar was
dead, and that Kraka had already married one Brak. Then they
remembered the father's treasure, dug up the money, and bore
it off. But Erik's fame had gone before him, and Gotar had
learnt all his good fortune. Now when Gotar learnt that he had
come himself, he feared that his immense self-confidence would
lead him to plan the worst against the Norwegians, and was
anxious to take his wife from him and marry him to his own
daughter in her place: for his queen had just died, and he was
anxious to marry the sister of Frode more than anyone. Erik,
when he learnt of his purpose, called his men together, and
told them that his fortune had not yet got off from the reefs.
Also he said that he saw, that as a bundle that was not tied
by a band fell to pieces, so likewise the heaviest punishment
that was not constrained on a man by his own fault suddenly
collapsed. They had experienced this of late with Frode; for
they saw how at the hardest pass their innocence had been
protected by the help of the gods; and if they continued to
preserve it they should hope for like aid in their adversity.
Next, they must pretend flight for a little while, if they
were attacked by Gotar, for so they would have a juster plea
for fighting. For they had every right to thrust out the hand
in order to shield the head from peril. Seldom could a man
carry to a successful end a battle he had begun against the
innocent; so, to give them a better plea for assaulting the
enemy, he must be provoked to attack them first.
Erik then turned to Gunwar, and asked her, in
order to test her fidelity, whether she had any love for
Gotar, telling her it was unworthy that a maid of royal
lineage should be bound to the bed of a man of the people.
Then she began to conjure him earnestly by the power of heaven
to tell her whether his purpose was true or reigned? He said
that he had spoken seriously, and she cried: "And so thou art
prepared to bring on me the worst of shame by leaving me a
widow, whom thou lovedst dearly as a maid! Common rumour often
speaks false, but I have been wrong in my opinion of thee. I
thought I had married a steadfast man; I hoped his loyalty was
past question; but now I find him to be more fickle than the
winds." Saying this, she wept abundantly.
Dear to Erik was his wife's fears; presently he
embraced her and said: "I wished to know how loyal thou wert
to me. Nought but death has the right to sever us, but Gotar
means to steal thee away, seeking thy love by robbery. When he
has committed the theft, pretend it is done with thy goodwill;
yet put off the wedding till he has given me his daughter in
thy place. When she has been granted, Gotar and I will hold
our marriage on the same day. And take care that thou prepare
rooms for our banqueting which have a common party-wall, yet
are separate: lest perchance, if I were before thine eyes,
thou shouldst ruffle the king with thy lukewarm looks at him.
For this will be a most effective trick to baffle the wish of
the ravisher." Then he bade Brak (one of his men), to lie in
ambush not far from the palace with a chosen band of his
quickest men, that he might help him at need.
Then he summoned Roller, and fled in his ship
with his wife and all his goods, in order to tempt the king
out, pretending panic: So, when he saw that the fleet of Gotar
was pressing him hard, he said: "Behold how the bow of guile
shooteth the shaft of treachery;" and instantly rousing his
sailors with the war-shout, he steered the ship about. Gotar
came close up to him and asked who was the pilot of the ship,
and he was told that it was Erik. He also shouted a question
whether he was the same man who by his marvellous speaking
could silence the eloquence of all other men. Erik, when he
heard this, replied that he had long since received the
surname of the "Shrewd-spoken", and that he had not won the
auspicious title for nothing. Then both went back to the
nearest shore, where Gotar, when he learnt the mission of
Erik, said that he wished for the sister of Frode, but would
rather offer his own daughter to Frode's envoy, that Erik
might not repent the passing of his own wife to another man.
Thus it would not be unfitting for the fruit of the mission to
fall to the ambassador.
Erik, he said, was delightful to him as a
son-in-law, if only he could win alliance with Frode through
Gunwar.
Erik lauded the kindness of the king and
approved his judgment, declaring he could not have expected a
greater thing from the immortal gods than what was now offered
him unasked. Still, he said, the king must first discover
Gunwar's own mind and choice. She accepted the flatteries of
the king with feigned goodwill, and seemed to consent readily
to his suit, but besought him to suffer Erik's nuptials to
precede hers; because, if Erik's were accomplished first,
there would be a better opportunity for the king's; but
chiefly on this account, that, if she were to marry again, she
might not be disgusted at her new marriage troth by the memory
of the old recurring. She also declared it inexpedient for two
sets of preparations to be confounded in one ceremony. The
king was prevailed upon by her answers, and highly approved
her requests.
Gotar's constant talks with Erik furnished him
with a store of most fairshapen maxims, wherewith to rejoice
and refresh his mind. So, not satisfied with giving him his
daughter in marriage he also made over to him the district of
Lither, thinking that their connection deserved some kindness.
Now Kraka, whom Erik, because of her cunning in witchcraft,
had brought with him on his travels, feigned weakness of the
eyes, and muffled up her face in her cloak, so that not a
single particle of her head was visible for recognition. When
people asked her who she was, she said that she was Gunwar's
sister, child of the same mother but a different father.
Now when they came to the dwelling of Gotar,
the wedding-feast of Alfhild (this was his daughter's name)
was being held. Erik and the king sat at meat in different
rooms, with a party-wall in common, and also entirely covered
on the inside with hanging tapestries. Gunwar sat by Gotar,
but Erik sat close between Kraka on the one side and Alfhild
on the other. Amid the merrymaking, he gradually drew a lath
out of the wall, and made an opening large enough to allow the
passage of a human body; and thus, without the knowledge of
the guests, he made a space wide enough to go through. Then,
in the course of the feast, he began to question his betrothed
closely whether she would rather marry himself or Frode:
especially since, if due heed were paid to matches, the
daughter of a king ought to go to the arms of one as noble as
herself, so that the lowliness of one of the pair might not
impair the lordliness of the other. She said that she would
never marry against the permission of her father; but he
turned her aversion into compliance by promises that she
should be queen, and that she should be richer than all other
women, for she was captivated by the promise of wealth quite
as much as of glory. There is also a tradition that Kraka
turned the maiden's inclinations to Frode by a drink which she
mixed and gave to her.
Now Gotar, after the feast, in order to make
the marriage-mirth go fast and furious, went to the revel of
Erik. As he passed out, Gunwar, as she had been previously
bidden, went through the hole in the party-wall where the lath
had been removed, and took the seat next to Erik. Gotar
marvelled that she was sitting there by his side, and began to
ask eagerly how and why she had come there. She said that she
was Gunwar's sister, and that the king was deceived by the
likeness of their looks. And when the king, in order to look
into the matter, hurried back to the royal room, Gunwar
returned through the back door by which she had come and sat
in her old place in the sight of all. Gotar, when he saw her,
could scarcely believe his eyes, and in the utmost doubt
whether he had recognized her aright, he retraced his steps to
Erik; and there he saw before him Gunwar, who had got back in
her own fashion. And so, as often as he changed to go from one
hall to the other, he found her whom he sought in either
place. By this time the king was tormented by great wonder at
what was no mere likeness, but the very same face in both
places. For it seemed flatly impossible that different people
should look exactly and undistinguishably alike. At last, when
the revel broke up, he courteously escorted his daughter and
Erik as far as their room, as the manner is at weddings, and
went back himself to bed elsewhere.
But Erik suffered Alfhild, who was destined for
Frode, to lie apart, and embraced Gunwar as usual, thus
outwitting the king. So Gotar passed a sleepless night,
revolving how he had been apparently deluded with a dazed and
wandering mind: for it seemed to him no mere likeness of
looks, but sameness. Thus he was filled with such wavering and
doubtful judgment, that though he really discerned the truth
he thought he must have been mistaken. At last it flashed
across his mind that the wall might have been tampered with.
He gave orders that it should be carefully surveyed and
examined, but found no traces of a breakage: in fact, the
entire room seemed to be whole and unimpaired. For Erik, early
in the night, had patched up the damage of the broken wall,
that his trick might not be detected. Then the king sent two
men privily into the bedroom of Erik to learn the truth, and
bade them stand behind the hangings and note all things
carefully. They further received orders to kill Erik if they
found him with Gunwar. They went secretly into the room, and,
concealing themselves in the curtained corners, beheld Erik
and Gunwar in bed together with arms entwined. Thinking them
only drowsy, they waited for their deeper sleep, wishing to
stay until a heavier slumber gave them a chance to commit
their crime. Erik snored lustily, and they knew it was a sure
sign that he slept soundly; so they straightway came forth
with drawn blades in order to butcher him. Erik was awakened
by their treacherous onset, and seeing their swords hanging
over his head, called out the name of his stepmother, (Kraka),
to which long ago he had been bidden to appeal when in peril,
and he found a speedy help in his need. For his shield, which
hung aloft from the rafter, instantly fell and covered his
unarmed body, and, as if on purpose, covered it from
impalement by the cutthroats. He did not fail to make use of
his luck, but, snatching his sword, lopped off both feet of
the nearest of them. Gunwar, with equal energy, ran a spear
through the other: she had the body of a woman, but the spirit
of a man.
Thus Erik escaped the trap; whereupon he went
back to the sea and made ready to sail off by night. But
Roller sounded on his horn the signal for those who had been
bidden to watch close by, to break into the palace. When the
king heard this, he thought it meant that the enemy was upon
them, and made off hastily in a ship. Meanwhile Brak, and
those who had broken in with him, snatched up the goods of the
king, and got them on board Erik's ships. Almost half the
night was spent in pillaging. In the morning, when the king
found that they had fled, he prepared to pursue them, but was
advised by one of his friends not to plan anything on a sudden
or do it in haste. His friend, indeed, tried to convince him
that he needed a larger equipment, and that it was ill-advised
to pursue the fugitives to Denmark with a handful. But neither
could this curb the king's impetuous spirit; it could not bear
the loss; for nothing had stung him more than this, that his
preparations to slay another should have recoiled on his own
men. So he sailed to the harbour which is now called Omi. Here
the weather began to be bad, provision failed, and they
thought it better, since die they must, to die by the sword
than by famine. And so the sailors turned their hand against
one another, and hastened their end by mutual blows. The king
with a few men took to the cliffs and escaped. Lofty barrows
still mark the scene of the slaughter. Meanwhile Erik ended
his voyage fairly, and the wedding of Alfhild and Frode was
kept.
Then came tidings of an inroad of the Sclavs,
and Erik was commissioned to suppress it with eight ships,
since Frode as yet seemed inexperienced in war. Erik, loth
ever to flinch from any manly undertaking, gladly undertook
the business and did it bravely. Learning that the pirates had
seven ships, he sailed up to them with only one of his own,
ordering the rest to be girt with timber parapets, and covered
over with pruned boughs of trees. Then he advanced to observe
the number of the enemy more fully, but when the Sclavs
pursued closely, he beat a quick retreat to his men. But the
enemy, blind to the trap, and as eager to take the fugitives,
rowed smiting the waters fast and incessantly. For the ships
of Erik could not be clearly distinguished, looking like a
leafy wood. The enemy, after venturing into a winding strait,
suddenly saw themselves surrounded by the fleet of Erik.
First, confounded by the strange sight, they thought that a
wood was sailing; and then they saw that guile lurked under
the leaves. Therefore, tardily repenting their rashness, they
tried to retrace their incautious voyage: but while they were
trying to steer about, they saw the enemy boarding them; Erik,
however, put his ship ashore, and slung stones against the
enemy from afar. Thus most of the Sclavs were killed, and
forty taken, who afterwards under stress of bonds and famine,
and in strait of divers torments, gave up the ghost.
Meantime Frode, in order to cross on an
expedition into Sclavia, had mustered a mighty fleet from the
Danes, as well as from neighbouring peoples. The smallest boat
of this fleet could carry twelve sailors, and be rowed by as
many oars. Then Erik, bidding his men await him patiently went
to tell Frode the tidings of the defeat he had inflicted. As
he sailed along he happened to see a pirate ship aground on
some shallows; and being wont to utter weighty words upon
chance occurrences, he said, "Obscure is the lot of the
base-born, and mean is the fortune of the lowly." Then he
brought his ship up close and destroyed the pirates, who were
trying to get off their own vessel with poles, and busily
engrossed in saving her. This accomplished, he made his way
back to the king's fleet; and wishing to cheer Frode with a
greeting that heralded his victory, he said, "Hail to the
maker of a most prosperous peace!" The king prayed that his
word might come true, and declared that the spirit of the wise
man was prophetic. Erik answered that he spoke truly, and that
the petty victory brought an omen of a greater one; declaring
that a presage of great matters could often be got from
trifles. Then the king counselled him to scatter his force,
and ordered the horsemen of Jutland to go by the land way,
while the rest of the army went by the short sea-passage. But
the sea was covered with such a throng of vessels, that there
were not enough harbours to take them in, nor shores for them
to encamp on, nor money for their provisions; while the land
army is said to have been so great that, in order to shorten
the way, it levelled mountains, made marshes passable, filled
up pits with material, and the hugest chasms by casting in
great boulders.
Meanwhile Strunik the King of the Sclavs sent
envoys to ask for a truce; but Frode refused him time to equip
himself, saying that an enemy ought not to be furnished with a
truce. Moreover, he said, he had hitherto passed his life
without experience of war, and now he ought not to delay its
beginning by waiting in doubt; for the man that conducted his
first campaign successfully might hope for as good fortune in
the rest. For each side would take the augury afforded by the
first engagements as a presage of the combat; since the
preliminary successes of war were often a prophecy of the
sequel. Erik commended the wisdom of the reply, declaring that
the game ought to be played abroad just as it had been begun
at home: meaning that the Danes had been challenged by the
Sclavs. After these words he fought a furious battle, slew
Strunik with the bravest of his race, and received the
surrender of the rest. Then Frode called the Sclavs together,
and proclaimed by a herald that any man among them who had
been trained to theft or plunder should be speedily given up;
promising that he would reward the character of such men with
the highest honours. He also ordered that all of them, who
were versed in evil arts should come forth to have their
reward. This offer pleased the Sclavs: and some of them,
tempted by their hopes of the gift, betrayed themselves with
more avarice than judgment, before the others could make them
known. These were misled by such great covetousness, that they
thought less of shame than lucre, and accounted as their glory
what was really their guilt. When these had given themselves
up of their own will, he said: "Sclavs! This is the pest from
which you must clear your land yourselves." And straightway he
ordered the executioners to seize them, and had them fixed
upon the highest gallows by the hand of their own countrymen.
The punishers looked fewer than the punished. And thus the
shrewd king, by refusing to those who owned their guilt the
pardon which he granted to the conquered foe, destroyed almost
the entire stock of the Sclavic race. Thus the longing for an
undeserved reward was visited with a deserved penalty, and the
thirst for an undue wage justly punished. I should think that
these men were rightly delivered to their doom, who brought
the peril on their own heads by speaking, when they could have
saved their lives by the protection of silence.
The king, exalted by the honours of his fresh
victory, and loth to seem less strong in justice than in
battle, resolved to remodel his army by some new laws, some of
which are retained by present usage, while others men have
chosen to abolish for new ones. (a) For he decreed, when the
spoil was divided, that each of the vanguard should receive a
greater share than the rest of the soldiery: while he granted
all gold that was taken to the generals (before whom the
standards were always borne in battle) on account of their
rank; wishing the common soldiers to be content with silver.
He ordered that the arms should go to the champions, but the
captured ships should pass to the common people, as the due of
those who had the right of building and equipping vessels. (b)
Also he forbade that anyone should venture to lock up his
household goods, as he would receive double the value of any
losses from the treasury of the king; but if anyone thought
fit to keep it in locked coffers, he must pay the king a gold
mark. He also laid down that anyone who spared a thief should
be punished as a thief. (d) Further, that the first man to
flee in battle should forfeit all common rights. (e) But when
he had returned into Denmark he wished to amend by good
measures any corruption caused by the evil practices of Grep;
and therefore granted women free choice in marriage, so that
there might be no compulsory wedlock. And so he provided by
law that women should be held duly married to those whom they
had wedded without consulting their fathers. (f) But if a free
woman agreed to marry a slave, she must fall to his rank, lose
the blessing of freedom, and adopt the standing of a slave.
(g) He also imposed on men the statute that they must marry
any woman whom they had seduced. (h) He ordained that
adulterers should be deprived of a member by the lawful
husbands, so that continence might not be destroyed by
shameful sins. (I) Also he ordained that if a Dane plundered
another Dane, he should repay double, and be held guilty of a
breach of the peace. (k) And if any man were to take to the
house of another anything which he had got by thieving, his
host, if he shut the door of his house behind the man, should
incur forfeiture of all his goods, and should be beaten in
full assembly, being regarded as having made himself guilty of
the same crime. (l) Also, whatsoever exile should turn enemy
to his country, or bear a shield against his countrymen,
should be punished with the loss of life and goods. (m) But if
any man, from a contumacious spirit, were slack in fulfilling
the orders of the king, he should be punished with exile. For,
on all occasion of any sudden and urgent war, an arrow of
wood, looking like iron, used to be passed on everywhere from
man to man as a messenger. (n) But if any one of the commons
went in front of the vanguard in battle, he was to rise from a
slave into a freeman, and from a peasant into a nobleman; but
if he were nobly-born already, he should be created a
governor. So great a guerdon did valiant men earn of old; and
thus did the ancients think noble rank the due of bravery. For
it was thought that the luck a man had should be set down to
his valour, and not his valour to his luck. (o) He also
enacted that no dispute should be entered on with a promise
made under oath and a gage deposited; but whosoever requested
another man to deposit a gage against him should pay that man
half a gold mark, on pain of severe bodily chastisement. For
the king had foreseen that the greatest occasions of strife
might arise from the depositing of gages. (p) But he decided
that any quarrel whatsoever should be decided by the sword,
thinking a combat of weapons more honourable than one of
words. But if either of the combatants drew back his foot, and
stepped out of the ring of the circle previously marked, he
was to consider himself conquered, and suffer the loss of his
case. But a man of the people, if he attacked a champion on
any score, should be armed to meet him; but the champion
should only fight with a truncheon an ell long. (q) Further,
he appointed that if an alien killed a Dane, his death should
be redressed by the slaying of two foreigners.
Meanwhile, Gotar, in order to punish Erik,
equipped his army for war: and Frode, on the other side,
equipped a great fleet to go against Norway. When both alike
had put into Rennes-Isle, Gotar, terrified by the greatness of
Frode's name, sent ambassadors to pray for peace. Erik said to
them, "Shameless is the robber who is the first to seek peace,
or ventures to offer it to the good. He who longs to win must
struggle: blow must counter blow, malice repel malice."
Gotar listened attentively to this from a
distance, and then said, as loudly as he could: "Each man
fights for valour according as he remembers kindness." Erik
said to him: "I have requited thy kindness by giving thee back
counsel." By this speech he meant that his excellent advice
was worth more than all manner of gifts. And, in order to show
that Gotar was ungrateful for the counsel he had received, he
said: "When thou desiredst to take my life and my wife, thou
didst mar the look of thy fair example. Only the sword has the
right to decide between us." Then Gotar attacked the fleet of
the Danes; he was unsuccessful in the engagement, and slain.
Afterwards Roller received his realm from Frode
as a gift; it stretched over seven provinces. Erik likewise
presented Roller with the province which Gotar had once
bestowed upon him. After these exploits Frode passed three
years in complete and tranquil peace.
Meanwhile the King of the Huns, when he heard
that his daughter had been put away, allied himself with
Olmar, King of the Easterlings, and in two years equipped an
armament against the Danes. So Frode levied an army not only
of native Danes, but also of Norwegians and Sclavs. Erik, whom
he had sent to spy out the array of the enemy, found Olmar,
who had received the command of the fleet, not far from
Russia; while the King of the Huns led the land forces. He
addressed Olmar thus:
"What means, prithee, this strong equipment of
war? Or whither dost thou speed, King Olmar, mighty in thy
fleet?"
Olmar. "We are minded to attack the son of
Fridleif. And who art thou, whose bold lips ask such
questions?"
Erik. "Vain hope of conquering the unconquered
hath filled thy heart; over Frode no man can prevail."
Olmar. "Whatsoever befalls, must once happen
for the first time; and often enough the unexpected comes to
pass."
By this saying he let him know that no man must
put too much trust in fortune. Then Erik rode up to inspect
the army of the Huns. As it passed by him, and he in turn by
it, it showed its vanguard to the rising and its rear to the
setting sun. So he asked those whom he met, who had the
command of all those thousands. Hun, the King of the Huns,
happened to see him, and heard that he had undertaken to
reconnoitre, and asked what was the name of the questioner.
Erik said he was the man who came everywhere and was found
nowhere. Then the king, when an interpreter was brought, asked
what work Frode was about. Erik replied, "Frode never waits at
home for a hostile army, nor tarries in his house for his foe.
For he who covets the pinnacle of another's power must watch
and wake all night. No man has ever won a victory by snoring,
and no wolf has ever found a carcase by lying asleep."
The king, perceiving that he was a cunning
speaker of choice maxims, said: "Here, perchance, is that Erik
who, as I have heard, accused my daughter falsely."
But Erik, when they were bidden to seize him
instantly, said that it was unseemly for one man to be dragged
off by really; and by this saying he not only appeased the
mind of the king, but even inclined him to be willing to
pardon him. But it was clear that this impunity came more from
cunning than kindness; for the chief reason why he was let go
was that he might terrify Frode by the report of their vast
numbers. When he returned, Frode bad him relate what he had
discovered, and he said that he had seen six kings each with
his fleet; and that each of these fleets contained five
thousand ships, each ship being known to hold three hundred
rowers. Each millenary of the whole total he said consisted of
four wings; now, since the full number of a wing is three
hundred, he meant that a millenary should be understood to
contain twelve hundred men. When Frode wavered in doubt what
he could do against so many, and looked eagerly round for
reinforcements, Erik said: "Boldness helps the righteous; a
valiant dog must attack the bear; we want wolf-hounds, and not
little unwarlike birds." This said, he advised Frode to muster
his fleet. When it was drawn up they sailed off against the
enemy; and so they fought and subdued the islands lying
between Denmark and the East; and as they advanced thence, met
some ships of the Ruthenian fleet. Frode thought it shameful
to attack such a handful, but Erik said: "We must seek food
from the gaunt and lean. He who falls shall seldom fatten, nor
has that man the power to bite whom the huge sack has
devoured." By this warning he cured the king of all shame
about making an assault, and presently induced him to attack a
small number with a throng; for he showed him that advantage
must be counted before honour.
After this they went on to meet Olmar, who
because of the slowness of his multitude preferred awaiting
the enemy to attacking it; for the vessels of the Ruthenians
seemed disorganized, and, owing to their size, not so well
able to row. But not even did the force of his multitudes
avail him. For the extraordinary masses of the Ruthenians were
stronger in numbers than in bravery, and yielded the victory
to the stout handful of the Danes.
When Frode tried to return home, his voyage
encountered an unheard-of difficulty. For the crowds of dead
bodies, and likewise the fragments of shields and spears,
bestrewed the entire gulf of the sea, and tossed on the tide,
so that the harbours were not only straitened, but stank. The
vessels stuck, hampered amid the corpses. They could neither
thrust off with oars, nor drive away with poles, the rotting
carcases that floated around, or prevent, when they had put
one away, another rolling up and driving against the fleet.
You would have thought that a war had arisen with the dead,
and there was a strange combat with the lifeless.
So Frode summoned the nations which he had
conquered, and enacted (a) that any father of a family who had
fallen in that war should be buried with his horse and all his
arms and decorations. And if any body-snatcher, in his
abominable covetousness, made an attempt on him, he was to
suffer for it, not only with his life, but also with the loss
of burial for his own body; he should have no barrow and no
funeral. For he thought it just that he who despoiled
another's ashes should be granted no burial, but should repeat
in his own person the fate he had inflicted on another. He
appointed that the body of a centurion or governor should
receive funeral on a pyre built of his own ship. He ordered
that the bodies of every ten pilots should be burnt together
with a single ship, but that every earl or king that was
killed should be put on his own ship and burnt with it. He
wished this nice attention to be paid in conducting the
funerals of the slain, because he wished to prevent
indiscriminate obsequies. By this time all the kings of the
Russians except Olmar and Dag had fallen in battle. (b) He
also ordered the Russians to conduct their warfare in
imitation of the Danes, and never to marry a wife without
buying her. He thought that bought marriages would have more
security, believing that the troth which was sealed with a
price was the safest. (d) Moreover, anyone who durst attempt
the violation of a virgin was to be punished with the
severance of his bodily parts, or else to requite the wrong of
his intercourse with a thousand talents. (e) He also enacted
that any man that applied himself to war, who aspired to the
title of tried soldier, should attack a single man, should
stand the attack of two, should only withdraw his foot a
little to avoid three, but should not blush to flee from four.
(f) He also proclaimed that a new custom concerning the pay of
the soldiers should be observed by the princes under his sway.
He ordered that each native soldier and housecarl should be
presented in the winter season with three marks of silver, a
common or hired soldier with two, a private soldier who had
finished his service with only one. By this law he did
injustice to valour, reckoning the rank of the soldiers and
not their courage; and he was open to the charge of error in
the matter, because he set familiar acquaintance above desert.
After this the king asked Erik whether the army
of the Huns was as large as the forces of Olmar, and Erik
answered in the following song:
"By Hercules, I came on a countless throng, a
throng that neither earth nor wave could hold. Thick flared
all their camp-fires, and the whole wood blazed up; the flame
betokened a numberless array. The earth sank under the fraying
of the horse-hoofs; creaking waggons rattled swiftly. The
wheels rumbled, the driver rode upon the winds, so that the
chariots sounded like thunder. The earth hardly bore the
throngs of men-at-arms, speeding on confusedly; they trod it,
but it could not bear their weight. I thought that the air
crashed and the earth was shaken, so mighty was the motion of
the stranger army. For I saw fifteen standards flickering at
once; each of them had a hundred lesser standards, and after
each of these could have been seen twenty; and the captains in
their order were equal in number to the standards."
Now when Frode asked wherewithal he was to
resist so many, Erik instructed him that he must return home
and suffer the enemy first to perish of their own hugeness.
His counsel was obeyed, the advice being approved as heartily
as it was uttered. But the Huns went on through pathless
deserts, and, finding provisions nowhere, began to run the
risk of general starvation; for it was a huge and swampy
district, and nothing could be found to relieve their want. At
last, when the beasts of burden had been cut down and eaten,
they began to scatter, lacking carriages as much as food. Now
their straying from the road was as perilous to them as their
hunger. Neither horses nor asses were spared, nor did they
refrain from filthy garbage. At last they did not even spare
dogs: to dying men every abomination was lawful; for there is
nothing too hard for the bidding of extreme need. At last when
they were worn out with hunger, there came a general
mortality. Bodies were carried out for burial without end, for
all feared to perish, and none pitied the perishing. Fear
indeed had cast out humanity. So first the divisions deserted
from the king little by little; and then the army melted away
by companies. He was also deserted by the prophet Ygg, a man
of unknown age, which was prolonged beyond the human span;
this man went as a deserter to Frode, and told him of all the
preparations of the Huns.
Meanwhile Hedin, prince of a considerable tribe
of the Norwegians, approached the fleet of Frode with a
hundred and fifty vessels. Choosing twelve out of these, he
proceeded to cruise nearer, signalling the approach of friends
by a shield raised on the mast. He thus greatly augmented the
forces of the king, and was received into his closest
friendship. A mutual love afterwards arose between this man
and Hilda, the daughter of Hogni, a chieftain of the Jutes,
and a maiden of most eminent renown. For, though they had not
yet seen one another, each had been kindled by the other's
glory. But when they had a chance of beholding one another,
neither could look away; so steadfast was the love that made
their eyes linger.
Meanwhile, Frode distributed his soldiers
through the towns, and carefully gathered in the materials
needed for the winter supplies; but even so he could not
maintain his army, with its burden of expense: and plague fell
on him almost as great as the destruction that met the Huns.
Therefore, to prevent the influx of foreigners, he sent a
fleet to the Elbe to take care that nothing should cross; the
admirals were Revil and Mevil. When the winter broke up, Hedin
and Hogni resolved to make a roving- raid together; for Hogni
did not know that his partner was in love with his daughter.
Now Hogni was of unusual stature, and stiff in temper; while
Hedin was very comely, but short. Also, when Frode saw that
the cost of keeping up his army grew daily harder to bear, he
sent Roller to Norway, Olmar to Sweden, King Onef and Glomer,
a rover captain, to the Orkneys for supplies, each with his
own forces. Thirty kings followed Frode, and were his friends
or vassals. But when Hun heard that Frode had sent away his
forces he mustered another and a fresh army. But Hogni
betrothed his daughter to Hedin, after they had sworn to one
another that whichever of them should perish by the sword
should be avenged by the other.
In the autumn, the men in search of supplies
came back, but they were richer in trophies than in food. For
Roller had made tributary the provinces Sundmor and Nordmor,
after slaying Arthor their king. But Olmar conquered Thor the
Long, the King of the Jemts and the Helsings, with two other
captains of no less power, and also took Esthonia and Kurland,
with Oland, and the isles that fringe Sweden; thus he was a
most renowned conqueror of savage lands. So he brought back
700 ships, thus doubling the numbers of those previously taken
out. Onef and Glomer, Hedin and Hogni, won victories over the
Orkneys, and returned with 900 ships. And by this time
revenues had been got in from far and wide, and there were
ample materials gathered by plunder to recruit their
resources. They had also added twenty kingdoms to the sway of
Frode, whose kings, added to the thirty named before, fought
on the side of the Danes.
Trusting in their strength, they engaged with
the Huns. Such a carnage broke out on the first day of this
combat that the three chief rivers of Russia were bestrewn
with a kind of bridge of corpses, and could be crossed and
passed over. Also the traces of the massacre spread so wide
that for the space of three days' ride the ground was to be
seen covered with human carcases. So, when the battle had been
seven days prolonged, King Hun fell; and his brother of the
same name, when he saw the line of the Huns giving way,
without delay surrendered himself and his company. In that war
170 kings, who were either Huns or fighting amongst the Huns,
surrendered to the king. This great number Erik had comprised
in his previous description of the standards, when he was
giving an account of the multitude of the Huns in answer to
the questions of Frode. So Frode summoned the kings to
assembly, and imposed a rule upon them that they should all
live under one and the same law. Now he set Olmar over
Holmgard; Onef over Conogard; and he bestowed Saxony on Hun,
his prisoner, and gave Revil the Orkneys. To one Dimar he
allotted the management of the provinces of the Helsings, of
the Jarnbers, and the Jemts, as well as both Laplands; while
on Dag he bestowed the government of Esthonia. Each of these
men he burdened with fixed conditions of tribute, thus making
allegiance a condition of his kindness. So the realms of Frode
embraced Russia on the east, and on the west were bounded by
the Rhine.
Meantime, certain slanderous tongues accused
Hedin to Hogni of having tempted and defiled his daughter
before the rites of betrothal; which was then accounted an
enormous crime by all nations. So the credulous ears of Hogni
drank in this lying report, and with his fleet he attacked
Hedin, who was collecting the king's dues among the Slavs;
there was an engagement, and Hogni was beaten, and went to
Jutland. And thus the peace instituted by Frode was disturbed
by intestine war, and natives were the first to disobey the
king's law. Frode, therefore, sent men to summon them both at
once, and inquired closely what was the reason of their feud.
When he had heard it, he gave judgment according to the terms
of the law he had enacted; but when he saw that even this
could not reconcile them (for the father obstinately demanded
his daughter back), he decreed that the quarrel should be
settled by the sword -- it seemed the only remedy for ending
the dispute. The fight began, and Hedin was grievously
wounded; but when he began to lose blood and bodily strength,
he received unexpected mercy from his enemy. For though Hogni
had an easy chance of killing him, yet, pitying youth and
beauty, he constrained his cruelty to give way to clemency.
And so, loth to cut off a stripling who was panting at his
last gasp, he refrained his sword. For of old it was accounted
shameful to deprive of his life one who was ungrown or a
weakling; so closely did the antique bravery of champions take
heed of all that could incline them to modesty. So Hedin, with
the help of his men, was taken back to his ship, saved by the
kindness of his foe.
In the seventh year after, these same men began
to fight on Hedin's isle, and wounded each other so that they
died. Hogni would have been lucky if he had shown severity
rather than compassion to Hedin when he had once conquered
him. They say that Hilda longed so ardently for her husband,
that she is believed to have conjured up the spirits of the
combatants by her spells in the night in order to renew the
war.
At the same time came to pass a savage war
between Alrik, king of the Swedes, and Gestiblind, king of the
Goths. The latter, being the weaker, approached Frode as a
suppliant, willing, if he might get his aid, to surrender his
kingdom and himself. He soon received the aid of Skalk, the
Skanian, and Erik, and came back with reinforcements. He had
determined to let loose his attack on Alrik, but Erik thought
that he should first assail his son Gunthion, governor of the
men of Wermland and Solongs, declaring that the storm-weary
mariner ought to make for the nearest shore, and moreover that
the rootless trunk seldom burgeoned. So he made an attack,
wherein perished Gunthion, whose tomb records his name. Alrik,
when he heard of the destruction of his son, hastened to
avenge him, and when he had observed his enemies, he summoned
Erik, and, in a secret interview, recounted the leagues of
their fathers, imploring him to refuse to fight for
Gestiblind. This Erik steadfastly declined, and Alrik then
asked leave to fight Gestiblind, thinking that a duel was
better than a general engagement. But Erik said that
Gestiblind was unfit for arms by reason of old age, pleading
his bad health, and above all his years; but offered himself
to fight in his place, explaining that it would be shameful to
decline a duel on behalf of the man for whom he had come to
make a war. Then they fought without delay: Alrik was killed,
and Erik was most severely wounded; it was hard to find
remedies, and he did not for long time recover health. Now a
false report had come to Frode that Erik had fallen, and was
tormenting the king's mind with sore grief; but Erik dispelled
this sadness with his welcome return; indeed, he reported to
Frode that by his efforts Sweden, Wermland, Helsingland, and
the islands of the Sun (Soleyar) had been added to his realm.
Frode straightway made him king of the nations he had subdued,
and also granted to him Helsingland with the two Laplands,
Finland and Esthonia, under a yearly tribute. None of the
Swedish kings before him was called by the name of Erik, but
the title passed from him to the rest.
At the same time Alf was king in Hethmark, and
he had a son Asmund. Biorn ruled in the province of Wik, and
had a son Aswid. Asmund was engaged on an unsuccessful hunt,
and while he was proceeding either to stalk the game with dogs
or to catch it in nets, a mist happened to come on. By this he
was separated from his sharers on a lonely track, wandered
over the dreary ridges, and at last, destitute of horse and
clothing, ate fungi and mushrooms, and wandered on aimlessly
till he came to the dwelling of King Biorn. Moreover, the son
of the king and he, when they had lived together a short
while, swore by every vow, in order to ratify the friendship
which they observed to one another, that whichever of them
lived longest should be buried with him who died. For their
fellowship and love were so strong, that each determined he
would not prolong his days when the other was cut off by
death.
After this Frode gathered together a host of
all his subject nations, and attacked Norway with his fleet,
Erik being bidden to lead the land force. For, after the
fashion of human greed, the more he gained the more he wanted,
and would not suffer even the dreariest and most rugged region
of the world to escape this kind of attack; so much is
increase of wealth wont to encourage covetousness. So the
Norwegians, casting away all hope of self- defence, and losing
all confidence in their power to revolt, began to flee for the
most part to Halogaland. The maiden Stikla also withdrew from
her country to save her chastity, proferring the occupations
of war to those of wedlock.
Meanwhile Aswid died of an illness, and was
consigned with his horse and dog to a cavern in the earth. And
Asmund, because of his oath of friendship, had the courage to
be buried with him, food being put in for him to eat.
Now just at this time Erik, who had crossed the
uplands with his army, happened to draw near the barrow of
Aswid; and the Swedes, thinking that treasures were in it,
broke the hill open with mattocks, and saw disclosed a cave
deeper than they had thought. To examine it, a man was wanted,
who would lower himself on a hanging rope tied around him. One
of the quickest of the youths was chosen by lot; and Asmund,
when he saw him let down in a basket following a rope,
straightway cast him out and climbed into the basket. Then he
gave the signal to draw him up to those above who were
standing by and controlling the rope. They drew in the basket
in the hopes of great treasure; but when they saw the unknown
figure of the man they had taken out, they were scared by his
extraordinary look, and, thinking that the dead had come to
life, flung down the rope and fled all ways. For Asmund looked
ghastly and seemed to be covered as with the corruption of the
charnel. He tried to recall the fugitives, and began to
clamour that they were wrongfully afraid of a living man. And
when Erik saw him, he marvelled most at the aspect of his
bloody face: the blood flowing forth and spurting over it. For
Aswid had come to life in the nights, and in his continual
struggles had wrenched off his left ear; and there was to be
seen the horrid sight of a raw and unhealed scar. And when the
bystanders bade him tell how he had got such a wound, he began
to speak thus: --
"Why stand ye aghast, who see me colourless?
Surely every live man fades among the dead. Evil to the lonely
man, and burdensome to the single, remains every dwelling in
the world. Hapless are they whom chance hath bereft of human
help. The listless night of the cavern, the darkness of the
ancient den, have taken all joy from my eyes and soul. The
ghastly ground, the crumbling barrow, and the heavy tide of
filthy things have marred the grace of my youthful
countenance, and sapped my wonted pith and force. Besides all
this, I have fought with the dead, enduring the heavy burden
and grievous peril of the wrestle; Aswid rose again and fell
on me with rending nails, by hellish might renewing ghastly
warfare after he was ashes.
"Why stand ye aghast, who see me colourless?
Surely every live man fades among the dead.
"By some strange enterprise of the power of
hell the spirit of Aswid was sent up from the nether world,
and with cruel tooth eats the fleet-footed (horse), and has
given his dog to his abominable jaws. Not sated with devouring
the horse or hound, he soon turned his swift nails upon me,
tearing my cheek and taking off my ear. Hence the hideous
sight of my slashed countenance, the blood-spurts in the ugly
wound. Yet the bringer of horrors did it not unscathed; for
soon I cut off his head with my steel, and impaled his guilty
carcase with a stake.
"Why stand ye aghast who see me colourless?
Surely every live man fades among the dead."
Frode had by this taken his fleet over to
Halogaland; and here, in order to learn the numbers of his
host, which seemed to surpass all bounds and measure that
could be counted, he ordered his soldiers to pile up a hill,
one stone being cast upon the heap for each man. The enemy
also pursued the same method of numbering their host, and the
hills are still to be seen to convince the visitor. Here Frode
joined battle with the Norwegians, and the day was bloody. At
nightfall both sides determined to retreat. As daybreak drew
near, Erik, who had come across the land, came up and advised
the king to renew the battle. In this war the Danes suffered
such slaughter that out of 3,000 ships only 170 are supposed
to have survived. The Northmen, however, were exterminated in
such a mighty massacre, that (so the story goes) there were
not men left to till even a fifth of their villages.
Frode, now triumphant, wished to renew peace
among all nations, that he might ensure each man's property
from the inroads of thieves and now ensure peace to his realms
after war. So he hung one bracelet on a crag which is called
Frode's Rock, and another in the district of Wik, after he had
addressed the assembled Norwegians; threatening that these
necklaces should serve to test the honesty which he had
decreed, and threatening that if they were filched punishment
should fall on all the governors of the district. And thus,
sorely imperilling the officers, there was the gold unguarded,
hanging up full in the parting of the roads, and the booty, so
easy to plunder, a temptation to all covetous spirits. (a)
Frode also enacted that seafarers should freely use oars
wherever they found them; while to those who wished to cross a
river he granted free use of the horse which they found
nearest to the ford. He decreed that they must dismount from
this horse when its fore feet only touched land and its hind
feet were still washed by the waters. For he thought that
services such as these should rather be accounted kindness
than wrongdoing. Moreover, he ordained that whosoever durst
try and make further use of the horse after he had crossed the
river should be condemned to death. (b) He also ordered that
no man should hold his house or his coffer under lock and key,
or should keep anything guarded by bolts, promising that all
losses should be made good threefold. Also, he appointed that
it was lawful to claim as much of another man's food for
provision as would suffice for a single supper. If anyone
exceeded this measure in his takings, he was to be held guilty
of theft. Now, a thief (so he enacted) was to be hung up with
a sword passed through his sinews, with a wolf fastened by his
side, so that the wicked man might look like the savage beast,
both being punished alike. He also had the same penalty
extended to accomplices in thefts. Here he passed seven most
happy years of peace, begetting a son Alf and a daughter
Eyfura.
It chanced that in these days Arngrim, a
champion of Sweden, who had challenged, attacked, and slain
Skalk the Skanian because he had once robbed him of a vessel,
came to Frode. Elated beyond measure with his deed, he
ventured to sue for Frode's daughter; but, finding the king
deaf to him, he asked Erik, who was ruling Sweden, to help
him. Erik advised him to win Frode's goodwill by some
illustrious service, and to fight against Egther, the King of
Permland, and Thengil, the King of Finmark, since they alone
seemed to repudiate the Danish rule, while all men else
submitted. Without delay he led his army to that country. Now,
the Finns are the uttermost peoples of the North, who have
taken a portion of the world that is barely habitable to till
and dwell in. They are very keen spearmen, and no nation has a
readier skill in throwing the javelin. They fight with large,
broad arrows; they are addicted to the study of spells; they
are skilled hunters. Their habitation is not fixed, and their
dwellings are migratory; they pitch and settle wherever they
have caught game. Riding on curved boards (skees or
snow-skates), they run over ridges thick with snow. These men
Arngrim attacked, in order to win renown, and he crushed them.
They fought with ill success; but, as they were scattering in
flight, they cast three pebbles behind them, which they caused
to appear to the eyes of the enemy like three mountains.
Arngrim's eyes were dazzled and deluded, and he called back
his men from the pursuit of the enemy, fancying that he was
checked by a barrier of mighty rocks. Again, when they engaged
and were beaten on the morrow, the Finns cast snow upon the
ground and made it look like a mighty river. So the Swedes,
whose eyes were utterly deluded, were deceived by their
misjudgment, for it seemed the roaring of an extraordinary
mass of waters. Thus, the conqueror dreading the unsubstantial
phantom of the waters, the Finns managed to escape. They
renewed the war again on the third day; but there was no
effective means of escape left any longer, for when they saw
that their lines were falling back, they surrendered to the
conqueror. Arngrim imposed on them the following terms of
tribute: that the number of the Finns should be counted, and
that, after the lapse of (every) three years, every ten of
them should pay a carriage-full of deer-skins by way of
assessment. Then he challenged and slew in single combat
Egther, the captain of the men of Permland, imposing on the
men of Permland the condition that each of them should pay one
skin. Enriched with these spoils and trophies, he returned to
Erik, who went with him into Denmark, and poured loud praises
of the young warrior into the ear of Frode, declaring that he
who had added the ends of the world to his realms deserved his
daughter. Then Frode, considering his splendid deserts,
thought it was not amiss to take for a son-in-law a man who
had won wide-resounding fame by such a roll of noble deeds.
Arngrim had twelve sons by Eyfura, whose names
I here subjoin: Brand, Biarbe, Brodd, Hiarrande; Tand,
Tyrfing, two Haddings; Hiortuar, Hiartuar, Hrane, Anganty.
These followed the business of sea-roving from their youth up;
and they chanced to sail all in one ship to the island Samso,
where they found lying off the coast two ships belonging to
Hialmar and Arvarodd (Arrow-Odd) the rovers. These ships they
attacked and cleared of rowers; but, not knowing whether they
had cut down the captains, they fitted the bodies of the slain
to their several thwarts, and found that those whom they
sought were missing. At this they were sad, knowing that the
victory they had won was not worth a straw, and that their
safety would run much greater risk in the battle that was to
come. In fact, Hialmar and Arvarodd, whose ships had been
damaged by a storm, which had torn off their rudders, went
into a wood to hew another; and, going round the trunk with
their axes, pared down the shapeless timber until the huge
stock assumed the form of a marine implement. This they
shouldered, and were bearing it down to the beach, ignorant of
the disaster of their friends, when the sons of Eyfura,
reeking with the fresh blood of the slain, attacked them, so
that they two had to fight many; the contest was not even
equal, for it was a band of twelve against two. But the
victory did not go according to the numbers. For all the sons
of Eyfura were killed; Hialmar was slain by them, but Arvarodd
gained the honours of victory, being the only survivor left by
fate out of all that band of comrades. He, with an incredible
effort, poised the still shapeless hulk of the rudder, and
drove it so strongly against the bodies of his foes that, with
a single thrust of it, he battered and crushed all twelve.
And, so, though they were rid of the general storm of war, the
band of rovers did not yet quit the ocean.
This it was that chiefly led Frode to attack
the West, for his one desire was the spread of peace. So he
summoned Erik, and mustered a fleet of all the kingdoms that
bid him allegiance, and sailed to Britain with numberless
ships. But the king of that island, perceiving that he was
unequal in force (for the ships seemed to cover the sea), went
to Frode, affecting to surrender, and not only began to
flatter his greatness, but also promised to the Danes, the
conquerors of nations, the submission of himself and of his
country; proffering taxes, assessment, tribute, what they
would. Finally, he gave them a hospitable invitation. Frode
was pleased with the courtesy of the Briton, though his
suspicions of treachery were kept by so ready and
unconstrained a promise of everything, so speedy a surrender
of the enemy before fighting; such offers being seldom made in
good faith. They were also troubled with alarm about the
banquet, fearing that as drunkenness came on their sober wits
might be entangled in it, and attacked by hidden treachery. So
few guests were bidden, moreover, that it seemed unsafe for
them to accept the invitation; and it was further thought
foolish to trust their lives to the good faith of an enemy
whom they did not know.
When the king found their minds thus wavering
he again approached Frode, and invited him to the banquet with
2,400 men; having before bidden him to come to the feast with
1,200 nobles. Frode was encouraged by the increase in the
number of guests, and was able to go to the banquet with
greater inward confidence; but he could not yet lay aside his
suspicions, and privily caused men to scour the interior and
let him know quickly of any treachery which they might espy.
On this errand they went into the forest, and, coming upon the
array of an armed encampment belonging to the forces of the
Britons, they halted in doubt, but hastily retraced their
steps when the truth was apparent. For the tents were dusky in
colour, and muffled in a sort of pitchy coverings, that they
might not catch the eye of anyone who came near. When Frode
learned this, he arranged a counter-ambuscade with a strong
force of nobles, that he might not go heedlessly to the
banquet, and be cheated of timely aid. They went into hiding,
and he warned them that the note of the trumpet was the signal
for them to bring assistance. Then with a select band, lightly
armed, he went to the banquet. The hall was decked with regal
splendour; it was covered all round with crimson hangings of
marvellous rich handiwork. A curtain of purple dye adorned the
propelled walls. The flooring was bestrewn with bright
mantles, which a man would fear to trample on. Up above was to
be seen the twinkle of many lanterns, the gleam of lamps lit
with oil, and the censers poured forth fragrance whose sweet
vapour was laden with the choicest perfumes. The whole way was
blocked by the tables loaded with good things; and the places
for reclining were decked with gold-embroidered couches; the
seats were full of pillows. The majestic hall seemed to smile
upon the guests, and nothing could be noticed in all that pomp
either inharmonious to the eye or offensive to the smell. In
the midst of the hall stood a great butt ready for refilling
the goblets, and holding an enormous amount of liquor; enough
could be drawn from it for the huge revel to drink its fill.
Servants, dressed in purple, bore golden cups, and courteously
did the office of serving the drink, pacing in ordered ranks.
Nor did they fail to offer the draught in the horns of the
wild ox.
The feast glittered with golden bowls, and was
laden with shining goblets, many of them studded with flashing
jewels. The place was filled with an immense luxury; the
tables groaned with the dishes, and the bowls brimmed over
with divers liquors. Nor did they use wine pure and simple,
but, with juices sought far and wide, composed a nectar of
many flavours. The dishes glistened with delicious foods,
being filled mostly with the spoils of the chase; though the
flesh of tame animals was not lacking either. The natives took
care to drink more sparingly than the guests; for the latter
felt safe, and were tempted to make an orgy; while the others,
meditating treachery, had lost all temptations to be drunken.
So the Danes, who, if I may say so with my country's leave,
were seasoned to drain the bowl against each other, took
quantities of wine. The Britons, when they saw that the Danes
were very drunk, began gradually to slip away from the
banquet, and, leaving their guests within the hall, made
immense efforts, first to block the doors of the palace by
applying bars and all kinds of obstacles, and then to set fire
to the house. The Danes were penned inside the hall, and when
the fire began to spread, battered vainly at the doors; but
they could not get out, and soon attempted to make a sally by
assaulting the wall. And the Angles, when they saw that it was
tottering under the stout attack of the Danes, began to shove
against it on their side, and to prop the staggering pile by
the application of large blocks on the outside, to prevent the
wall being shattered and releasing the prisoners. But at last
it yielded to the stronger hand of the Danes, whose efforts
increased with their peril; and those pent within could sally
out with ease. Then Frode bade the trumpet strike in, to
summon the band that had been posted in ambush; and these,
roused by the note of the clanging bugle, caught the enemy in
their own trap; for the King of the Britons, with countless
hosts of his men, was utterly destroyed. Thus the band helped
Frode doubly, being both the salvation of his men and the
destruction of his enemies.
Meantime the renown of the Danish bravery
spread far, and moved the Irish to strew iron calthrops on the
ground, in order to make their land harder to invade, and
forbid access to their shores. Now the Irish use armour which
is light and easy to procure. They crop the hair close with
razors, and shave all the hair off the back of the head, that
they may not be seized by it when they run away. They also
turn the points of their spears towards the assailant, and
deliberately point their sword against the pursuer; and they
generally fling their lances behind their back, being more
skilled at conquering by flight than by fighting. Hence, when
you fancy that the victory is yours, then is the moment of
danger. But Frode was wary and not rash in his pursuit of the
foe who fled so treacherously, and he routed Kerwil (Cearbal),
the leader of the nation, in battle. Kerwil's brother
survived, but lost heart for resistance, and surrendered his
country to the king (Frode), who distributed among his
soldiers the booty he had won, to show himself free from all
covetousness and excessive love of wealth, and only ambitious
to gain honour.
After the triumphs in Britain and the spoiling
of the Irish they went back to Denmark; and for thirty years
there was a pause from all warfare. At this time the Danish
name became famous over the whole world almost for its
extraordinary valour. Frode, therefore, desired to prolong and
establish for ever the lustre of his empire, and made it his
first object to inflict severe treatment upon thefts and
brigandage, feeling these were domestic evils and intestine
plagues, and that if the nations were rid of them they would
come to enjoy a more tranquil life; so that no ill-will should
mar and hinder the continual extention of peace. He also took
care that the land should not be devoured by any plague at
home when the enemy was at rest, and that intestine wickedness
should not encroach when there was peace abroad. At last he
ordered that in Jutland, the chief district of his realm, a
golden bracelet, very heavy, should be set up on the highways
(as he had done before in the district of Wik), wishing by
this magnificent price to test the honesty which he had
enacted. Now, though the minds of the dishonest were vexed
with the provocation it furnished, and the souls of the evil
tempted, yet the unquestioned dread of danger prevailed. For
so potent was the majesty of Frode, that it guarded even gold
that was thus exposed to pillage, as though it were fast with
bolts and bars. The strange device brought great glory upon
its inventor. After dealing destruction everywhere, and
gaining famous victories far and wide, he resolved to bestow
quiet on all men, that the cheer of peace should follow the
horrors of war, and the end of slaughter might be the
beginning of safety. He further thought that for the same
reason all men's property should be secured to them by a
protective decree, so that what had been saved from a foreign
enemy might not find a plunderer at home.
About the same time, the Author of our general
salvation, coming to the earth in order to save mortals, bore
to put on the garb of mortality; at which time the fires of
war were quenched, and all the lands were enjoying the calmest
and most tranquil peace. It has been thought that the peace
then shed abroad so widely, so even and uninterrupted over the
whole world, attended not so much an earthly rule as that
divine birth; and that it was a heavenly provision that this
extraordinary gift of time should be a witness to the presence
of Him who created all times.
Meantime a certain matron, skilled in sorcery,
who trusted in her art more than she feared the severity of
the king, tempted the covetousness of her son to make a secret
effort for the prize; promising him impunity, since Frode was
almost at death's door, his body failing, and the remnant of
his doting spirit feeble. To his mother's counsels he objected
the greatness of the peril; but she bade him take hope,
declaring, that either a sea-cow should have a calf, or that
the king's vengeance should be baulked by some other chance.
By this speech she banished her son's fears, and made him obey
her advice. When the deed was done, Frode, stung by the
affront, rushed with the utmost heat and fury to raze the
house of the matron, sending men on to arrest her and bring
her with her children. This the woman foreknew, and deluded
her enemies by a trick, changing from the shape of a woman
into that of a mare. When Frode came up she took the shape of
a sea-cow, and seemed to be straying and grazing about the
shore; and she also made her sons look like calves of smaller
size. This portent amazed the king, and he ordered that they
should be surrounded and cut off from returning to the waters.
Then he left the carriage, which he used because of the
feebleness of his aged body, and sat on the ground marvelling.
But the mother, who had taken the shape of the larger beast,
charged at the king with outstretched tusk, and pierced one of
his sides. The wound killed him; and his end was unworthy of
such majesty as his. His soldiers, thirsting to avenge his
death, threw their spears and transfixed the monsters, and
saw, when they were killed, that they were the corpses of
human beings with the heads of wild beasts: a circumstance
which exposed the trick more than anything.
So ended Frode, the most famous king in the
whole world. The nobles, when he had been disembowelled, had
his body kept embalmed for three years, for they feared the
provinces would rise if the king's end were published. They
wished his death to be concealed above all from foreigners, so
that by the pretence that he was alive they might preserve the
boundaries of the empire, which had been extended for so long;
and that, on the strength of the ancient authority of their
general, they might exact the usual tribute from their
subjects. So, the lifeless corpse was carried away by them in
such a way that it seemed to be taken, not in a funeral bier,
but in a royal carriage, as if it were a due and proper
tribute from the soldiers to an infirm old man not in full
possession of his forces. Such splendour did his friends
bestow on him even in death. But when his limbs rotted, and
were seized with extreme decay, and when the corruption could
not be arrested, they buried his body with a royal funeral in
a barrow near Waere, a bridge of Zealand; declaring that Frode
had desired to die and be buried in what was thought the chief
province of his kingdom.
BOOK SIX
After the death of Frode, the Danes wrongly
supposed that Fridleif, who was being reared in Russia, had
perished; and, thinking that the sovereignty halted for lack
of an heir, and that it could no longer be kept on in the
hands of the royal line, they considered that the sceptre
would be best deserved by the man who should affix to the yet
fresh grave of Frode a song of praise in his glorification,
and commit the renown of the dead king to after ages by a
splendid memorial. Then one HIARN, very skilled in writing
Danish poetry, wishing to give the fame of the hero some
notable record of words, and tempted by the enormous prize,
composed, after his own fashion, a barbarous stave. Its
purport, expressed in four lines, I have transcribed as
follows:
"Frode, whom the Danes would have wished to
live long, they bore long through their lands when he was
dead. The great chief's body, with this turf heaped above it,
bare earth covers under the lucid sky."
When the composer of this song had uttered it,
the Danes rewarded him with the crown. Thus they gave a
kingdom for an epitaph, and the weight of a whole empire was
presented to a little string of letters. Slender expense for
so vast a guerdon! This huge payment for a little poem
exceeded the glory of Caesar's recompense; for it was enough
for the divine Julius to pension with a township the writer
and glorifier of those conquests which he had achieved over
the whole world. But now the spendthrift kindness of the
populace squandered a kingdom on a churl. Nay, not even
Africanus, when he rewarded the records of his deed, rose to
the munificence of the Danes. For there the wage of that
laborious volume was in mere gold, while here a few callow
verses won a sceptre for a peasant.
At the same time Erik, who held the
governorship of Sweden, died of disease; and his son Halfdan,
who governed in his father's stead, alarmed by the many
attacks of twelve brothers of Norwegian birth, and powerless
to punish their violence, fled, hoping for reinforcements, to
ask aid of Fridleif, then sojourning in Russia. Approaching
him with a suppliant face, he lamented that he was himself
shattered and bruised by a foreign foe, and brought a dismal
plaint of his wrongs. From him Fridleif heard the tidings of
his father's death, and granting the aid he sought, went to
Norway in armed array. At this time the aforesaid brothers,
their allies forsaking them, built a very high rampart within
an island surrounded by a swift stream, also extending their
earthworks along the level. Trusting to this refuge, they
harried the neighborhood with continual raids. For they built
a bridge on which they used to get to the mainland when they
left the island. This bridge was fastened to the gate of the
stronghold; and they worked it by the guidance of ropes, in
such a way that it turned as if on some revolving hinge, and
at one time let them pass across the river; while at another,
drawn back from above by unseen cords, it helped to defend the
entrance.
These warriors were of valiant temper, young
and stalwart, of splendid bodily presence, renowned for
victories over giants, full of trophies of conquered nations,
and wealthy with spoil. I record the names of some of them --
for the rest have perished in antiquity -- Gerbiorn, Gunbiorn,
Arinbiorn, Stenbiorn, Esbiorn, Thorbiorn, and Biorn. Biorn is
said to have had a horse which was splendid and of exceeding
speed, so that when all the rest were powerless to cross the
river it alone stemmed the roaring eddy without weariness.
This rapid comes down in so swift and sheer a volume that
animals often lose all power of swimming in it, and perish.
For, trickling from the topmost crests of the hills, it comes
down the steep sides, catches on the rocks, and is shattered,
falling into the deep valleys with a manifold clamour of
waters; but, being straightway rebuffed by the rocks that bar
the way, it keeps the speed of its current ever at the same
even pace. And so, along the whole length of the channel, the
waves are one turbid mass, and the white foam brims over
everywhere. But, after rolling out of the narrows between the
rocks, it spreads abroad in a slacker and stiller flood, and
turns into an island a rock that lies in its course. On either
side of the rock juts out a sheer ridge, thick with divers
trees, which screen the river from distant view. Biorn had
also a dog of extraordinary fierceness, a terribly vicious
brute, dangerous for people to live with, which had often
singly destroyed twelve men. But, since the tale is hearsay
rather than certainty, let good judges weigh its credit. This
dog, as I have heard, was the favourite of the giant Offot
(Un-foot), and used to watch his herd amid the pastures.
Now the warriors, who were always pillaging the
neighbourhood, used often to commit great slaughters.
Plundering houses, cutting down cattle, sacking everything,
making great hauls of booty, rifling houses, then burning
them, massacring male and female promiscuously -- these, and
not honest dealings, were their occupations. Fridleif
surprised them while on a reckless raid, and drove them all
back for refuge to the stronghold; he also seized the
immensely powerful horse, whose rider, in the haste of his
panic, had left it on the hither side of the river in order to
fly betimes; for he durst not take it with him over the
bridge. Then Fridleif proclaimed that he would pay the weight
of the dead body in gold to any man who slew one of those
brothers. The hope of the prize stimulated some of the
champions of the king; and yet they were fired not so much
with covetousness as with valour; so, going secretly to
Fridleif, they promised to attempt the task, vowing to
sacrifice their lives if they did not bring home the severed
heads of the robbers. Fridleif praised their valour and their
vows, but bidding the onlookers wait, went in the night to the
river, satisfied with a single companion. For, not to seem
better provided with other men's valour than with his own, he
determined to forestall their aid by his own courage.
Thereupon he crushed and killed his companion with a shower of
flints, and flung his bloodless corpse into the waves, having
dressed it in his own clothes; which he stripped off,
borrowing the cast-off garb of the other, so that when the
corpse was seen it might look as if the king had perished. He
further deliberately drew blood from the beast on which he had
ridden, and bespattered it, so that when it came back into
camp he might make them think he himself was dead. Then he set
spur to his horse and drove it into the midst of the eddies,
crossed the river and alighted, and tried to climb over the
rampart that screened the stronghold by steps set up against
the mound. When he got over the top and could grasp the
battlements with his hand, he quietly put his foot inside,
and, without the knowledge of the watch, went lightly on
tiptoe to the house into which the bandits had gone to
carouse. And when he had reached its hall, he sat down under
the porch overhanging the door. Now the strength of their
fastness made the warriors feel so safe that they were tempted
to a debauch; for they thought that the swiftly rushing river
made their garrison inaccessible, since it seemed impossible
either to swim over or to cross in boats. For no part of the
river allowed of fording.
Biorn, moved by the revel, said that in his
sleep he had seen a beast come out of the waters, which
spouted ghastly fire from its mouth, enveloping everything in
a sheet of flame. Therefore the holes and corners of the
island should, he said, be searched; nor ought they to trust
so much to their position, as rashly to let overweening
confidence bring them to utter ruin. No situation was so
strong that the mere protection of nature was enough for it
without human effort. Moreover they must take great care that
the warning of his slumbers was not followed by a yet more
gloomy and disastrous fulfilment. So they all sallied forth
from the stronghold, and narrowly scanned the whole circuit of
the island; and finding the horse they surmised that Fridleif
had been drowned in the waters of the river. They received the
horse within the gates with rejoicing, supposing that it had
flung off its rider and swum over. But Biorn, still scared
with the memory of the visions of the night, advised them to
keep watch, since it was not safe for them yet to put aside
suspicion of danger. Then he went to his room to rest, with
the memory of his vision deeply stored in his heart.
Meanwhile the horse, which Fridleif, in order
to spread a belief in his death, had been loosed and
besprinkled with blood (though only with that which lies
between flesh and skin), burst all bedabbled into the camp of
his soldiers. They went straight to the river, and finding the
carcase of the slave, took it for the body of the king; the
hissing eddies having cast it on the bank, dressed in brave
attire. Nothing helped their mistake so much as the swelling
of the battered body; inasmuch as the skin was torn and
bruised with the flints, so that all the features were blotted
out, bloodless and wan. This exasperated the champions who had
just promised Fridleif to see that the robbers were
extirpated: and they approached the perilous torrent, that
they might not seem to tarnish the honour of their promise by
a craven neglect of their vow. The rest imitated their
boldness, and with equal ardour went to the river, ready to
avenge their king or to endure the worst. When Fridleif saw
them he hastened to lower the bridge to the mainland; and when
he had got the champions he cut down the watch at the first
attack. Thus he went on to attack the rest and put them to the
sword, all save Biorn; whom he tended very carefully and cured
of his wounds; whereupon, under pledge of solemn oath, he made
him his colleague, thinking it better to use his services than
to boast of his death. He also declared it would be shameful
if such a flower of bravery were plucked in his first youth
and perished by an untimely death.
Now the Danes had long ago had false tidings of
Fridleif's death, and when they found that he was approaching,
they sent men to fetch him, and ordered Hiarn to quit the
sovereignty, because he was thought to be holding it only on
sufferance and carelessly. But he could not bring himself to
resign such an honour, and chose sooner to spend his life for
glory than pass into the dim lot of common men. Therefore he
resolved to fight for his present estate, that he might not
have to resume his former one stripped of his royal honours.
Thus the land was estranged and vexed with the hasty commotion
of civil strife; some were of Hiarn's party, while others
agreed to the claims of Fridleif, because of the vast services
of Frode; and the voice of the commons was perplexed and
divided, some of them respecting things as they were, others
the memory of the past. But regard for the memory of Frode
weighed most, and its sweetness gave Fridleif the balance of
popularity.
Many wise men thought that a person of peasant
rank should be removed from the sovereignty; since, contrary
to the rights of birth, and only by the favour of fortune, he
had reached an unhoped-for eminence; and in order that the
unlawful occupant might not debar the rightful heir to the
office, Fridleif told the envoys of the Danes to return, and
request Hiarn either to resign the kingdom or to meet him in
battle. Hiarn thought it more grievous than death to set lust
of life before honour, and to seek safety at the cost of
glory. So he met Fridleif in the field, was crushed, and fled
into Jutland, where, rallying a band, he again attacked his
conqueror. But his men were all consumed with the sword, and
he fled unattended, as the island testifies which has taken
its name from his (Hiarno). And so, feeling his lowly fortune,
and seeing himself almost stripped of his forces by the double
defeat, he turned his mind to craft, and went to Fridleif with
his face disguised, meaning to become intimate, and find an
occasion to slay him treacherously.
Hiarn was received by the king, hiding his
purpose under the pretence of servitude. For, giving himself
out as a salt- distiller, he performed base offices among the
servants who did the filthiest work. He used also to take the
last place at meal- time, and he refrained from the baths,
lest his multitude of scars should betray him if he stripped.
The king, in order to ease his own suspicions, made him wash;
and when he knew his enemy by the scars, he said: "Tell me
now, thou shameless bandit, how wouldst thou have dealt with
me, if thou hadst found out plainly that I wished to murder
thee?" Hiarn, stupefied, said: "Had I caught thee I would have
first challenged thee, and then fought thee, to give thee a
better chance of wiping out thy reproach." Fridleif presently
took him at his word, challenged him and slew him, and buried
his body in a barrow that bears the dead man's name.
Soon after FRIDLEIF was admonished by his
people to think about marrying, that he might prolong his
line; but he maintained that the unmarried life was best,
quoting his father Frode, on whom his wife's wantonness had
brought great dishonour. At last, yielding to the persistent
entreaties of all, he proceeded to send ambassadors to ask for
the daughter of Amund, King of Norway. One of these, named
Frok, was swallowed by the waves in mid-voyage, and showed a
strange portent at his death. For when the closing flood of
billows encompassed him, blood arose in the midst of the eddy,
and the whole face of the sea was steeped with an alien
redness, so that the ocean, which a moment before was foaming
and white with tempest, was presently swollen with crimson
waves, and was seen to wear a colour foreign to its nature.
Around implacably declined to consent to the
wishes of the king, and treated the legates shamefully,
declaring that he spurned the embassy because the tyranny of
Frode had of old borne so heavily upon Norway. But Amund's
daughter, Frogertha, not only looking to the birth of
Fridleif, but also honouring the glory of his deeds, began to
upbraid her father, because he scorned a son-in- law whose
nobility was perfect, being both sufficient in valour and
flawless in birth. She added that the portentous aspect of the
sea, when the waves were suddenly turned into blood, simply
and solely signified the defeat of Norway, and was a plain
presage of the victory of Denmark. And when Fridleif sent a
further embassy to ask for her, wishing to vanquish the
refusal by persistency, Amund was indignant that a petition he
had once denied should be obstinately pressed, and hurried the
envoys to death, wishing to offer a brutal check to the zeal
of this brazen wooer. Fridleif heard news of this outrage, and
summoning Halfdan and Biorn, sailed round Norway. Amund,
equipped with his native defences, put out his fleet against
him. The firth into which both fleets had mustered is called
Frokasund. Here Fridleif left the camp at night to
reconnoitre; and, hearing an unusual kind of sound close to
him as of brass being beaten, he stood still and looked up,
and heard the following song of three swans, who were crying
above him:
"While Hythin sweeps the sea and cleaves the
ravening tide, his serf drinks out of gold and licks the cups
of milk. Best is the estate of the slave on whom waits the
heir, the king's son, for their lots are rashly interchanged."
Next, after the birds had sung, a belt fell from on high,
which showed writing to interpret the song. For while the son
of Hythin, the King of Tellemark, was at his boyish play, a
giant, assuming the usual appearance of men, had carried him
off, and using him as an oarsman (having taken his skiff over
to the neighbouring shore), was then sailing past Fridleif
while he was occupied reconnoitering. But the king would not
suffer him to use the service of the captive youth, and longed
to rob the spoiler of his prey. The youth warned him that he
must first use sharp reviling against the giant, promising
that he would prove easy to attack, if only he were assailed
with biting verse. Then Fridleif began thus:
"Since thou art a giant of three bodies,
invincible, and almost reachest heaven with thy crest, why
does this silly sword bind thy thigh? Why doth a broken spear
gird thy huge side? Why, perchance, dost thou defend thy
stalwart breast with a feeble sword, and forget the likeness
of thy bodily stature, trusting in a short dagger, a petty
weapon? Soon, soon will I balk thy bold onset, when with
blunted blade thou attemptest war. Since thou art thyself a
timid beast, a lump lacking proper pith, thou art swept
headlong like a flying shadow, having with a fair and famous
body got a heart that is unwarlike and unstable with fear, and
a spirit quite unmatched to thy limbs. Hence thy frame
totters, for thy goodly presence is faulty through the
overthrow of thy soul, and thy nature in all her parts is at
strife. Hence shall all tribute of praise quit thee, nor shalt
thou be accounted famous among the brave, but shalt be
reckoned among ranks obscure."
When he had said this he lopped off a hand and
foot of the giant, made him fly, and set his prisoner free.
Then he went straightway to the giant's headland, took the
treasure out of his cave, and carried it away. Rejoicing in
these trophies, and employing the kidnapped youth to row him
over the sea, he composed with cheery voice the following
strain:
"In the slaying of the swift monster we wielded
our blood-stained swords and our crimsoned blade, whilst thou,
Amund, lord of the Norwegian ruin, wert in deep slumber; and
since blind night covers thee, without any light of soul, thy
valour has melted away and beguiled thee. But we crushed a
giant who lost use of his limbs and wealth, and we pierced
into the disorder of his dreary den. There we seized and
plundered his piles of gold. And now with oars we sweep the
wave-wandering main, and joyously return, rowing back to the
shore our booty-laden ship; we fleet over the waves in a skiff
that travels the sea; gaily let us furrow those open waters,
lest the dawn come and betray us to the foe. Lightly
therefore, and pulling our hardest, let us scour the sea,
making for our camp and fleet ere Titan raise his rosy head
out of the clear waters; that when fame noises the deed about,
and Frogertha knows that the spoil has been won with a gallant
struggle, her heart may be stirred to be more gentle to our
prayer."
On the morrow there was a great muster of the
forces, and Fridleif had a bloody battle with Amund, fought
partly by sea and partly by land. For not only were the lines
drawn up in the open country, but the warriors also made an
attack with their fleet. The battle which followed cost much
blood. So Biorn, when his ranks gave back, unloosed his hound
and sent it against the enemy; wishing to win with the biting
of a dog the victory which he could not achieve with the
sword. The enemy were by this means shamefully routed, for a
square of the warriors ran away when attacked with its teeth.
There is no saying whether their flight was
more dismal or more disgraceful. Indeed, the army of the
Northmen was a thing to blush for; for an enemy crushed it by
borrowing the aid of a brute. Nor was it treacherous of
Fridleif to recruit the failing valour of his men with the aid
of a dog. In this war Amund fell; and his servant Ane,
surnamed the Archer, challenged Fridleif to fight him; but
Biorn, being a man of meaner estate, not suffering the king to
engage with a common fellow, attacked him himself. And when
Biorn had bent his bow and was fitting the arrow to the
string, suddenly a dart sent by Ane pierced the top of the
cord. Soon another arrow came after it and struck amid the
joints of his fingers. A third followed, and fell on the arrow
as it was laid to the string. For Ane, who was most dexterous
at shooting arrows from a distance, had purposely only struck
the weapon of his opponent, in order that, by showing it was
in his power to do likewise to his person, he might recall the
champion from his purpose. But Biorn abated none of his valour
for this, and, scorning bodily danger, entered the fray with
heart and face so steadfast, that he seemed neither to yield
anything to the skill of Ane, nor lay aside aught of his
wonted courage. Thus he would in nowise be made to swerve from
his purpose, and dauntlessly ventured on the battle. Both of
them left it wounded; and fought another also on Agdar Ness
with an emulous thirst for glory.
By the death of Amund, Fridleif was freed from
a most bitter foe, and obtained a deep and tranquil peace;
whereupon he forced his savage temper to the service of
delight; and, transferring his ardour to love, equipped a
fleet in order to seek the marriage which had once been denied
him. At last he set forth on his voyage; and his fleet being
becalmed, he invaded some villages to look for food; where,
being received hospitably by a certain Grubb, and at last
winning his daughter in marriage, he begat a son named Olaf.
After some time had passed he also won Frogertha; but, while
going back to his own country, he had a bad voyage, and was
driven on the shores of an unknown island. A certain man
appeared to him in a vision, and instructed him to dig up a
treasure that was buried in the ground, and also to attack the
dragon that guarded it, covering himself in an ox-hide to
escape the poison; teaching him also to meet the envenomed
fangs with a hide stretched over his shield. Therefore, to
test the vision, he attacked the snake as it rose out of the
waves, and for a long time cast spears against its scaly side;
in vain, for its hard and shelly body foiled the darts flung
at it. But the snake, shaking its mass of coils, uprooted the
trees which it brushed past by winding its tail about them.
Moreover, by constantly dragging its body, it hollowed the
ground down to the solid rock, and had made a sheer bank on
either hand, just as in some places we see hills parted by an
intervening valley. So Fridleif, seeing that the upper part of
the creature was proof against attack, assailed the lower side
with his sword, and piercing the groin, drew blood from the
quivering beast. When it was dead, he unearthed the money from
the underground chamber and had it taken off in his ships.
When the year had come to an end, he took great
pains to reconcile Biorn and Ane, who had often challenged and
fought one another, and made them exchange their hatred for
friendship; and even entrusted to them his three-year-old son,
Olaf, to rear. But his mistress, Juritha, the mother of Olaf,
he gave in marriage to Ane, whom he made one of his warriors;
thinking that she would endure more calmly to be put away, if
she wedded such a champion, and received his robust embrace
instead of a king's.
The ancients were wont to consult the oracles
of the Fates concerning the destinies of their children. In
this way Fridleif desired to search into the fate of his son
Olaf; and, after solemnly offering up his vows, he went to the
house of the gods in entreaty; where, looking into the chapel,
he saw three maidens, sitting on three seats. The first of
them was of a benignant temper, and bestowed upon the boy
abundant beauty and ample store of favour in the eyes of men.
The second granted him the gift of surpassing generosity. But
the third, a woman of more mischievous temper and malignant
disposition, scorning the unanimous kindness of her sisters,
and likewise wishing to mar their gifts, marked the future
character of the boy with the slur of niggardliness. Thus the
benefits of the others were spoilt by the poison of a
lamentable doom; and hence, by virtue of the twofold nature of
these gifts Olaf got his surname from the meanness which was
mingled with his bounty. So it came about that this blemish
which found its way into the gift marred the whole sweetness
of its first benignity.
When Fridleif had returned from Norway, and was
traveling through Sweden, he took on himself to act as
ambassador, and sued successfully for Hythin's daughter, whom
he had once rescued from a monster, to be the wife of Halfdan,
he being still unwedded. Meantime his wife Frogertha bore a
son FRODE, who afterwards got his surname from his noble
munificence. And thus Frode, because of the memory of his
grandsire's prosperity, which he recalled by his name, became
from his very cradle and earliest childhood such a darling of
all men, that he was not suffered even to step or stand on the
ground, but was continually cherished in people's laps and
kissed. Thus he was not assigned to one upbringer only, but
was in a manner everybody's fosterling. And, after his
father's death, while he was in his twelfth year, Swerting and
Hanef, the kings of Saxony, disowned his sway, and tried to
rebel openly. He overcame them in battle, and imposed on the
conquered peoples a poll-tax of a coin, which they were to pay
as his slaves. For he showed himself so generous that he
doubled the ancient pay of the soldiers: a fashion of bounty
which then was novel. For he did not, as despots do, expose
himself to the vulgar allurements of vice, but strove to covet
ardently whatsoever he saw was nearest honour; to make his
wealth public property; to surpass all other men in bounty, to
forestall them all in offices of kindness; and, hardest of
all, to conquer envy by virtue. By this means the youth soon
won such favour with all men, that he not only equalled in
renown the honours of his forefathers, but surpassed the most
ancient records of kings.
At the same time one Starkad, the son of
Storwerk, escaped alone, either by force or fortune, from a
wreck in which his friends perished, and was received by Frode
as his guest for his incredible excellence both of mind and
body. And, after being for some little time his comrade, he
was dressed in a better and more comely fashion every day, and
was at last given a noble vessel, and bidden to ply the
calling of a rover, with the charge of guarding the sea. For
nature had gifted him with a body of superhuman excellence;
and his greatness of spirit equalled it, so that folk thought
him behind no man in valour. So far did his glory spread, that
the renown of his name and deeds continues famous even yet. He
shone out among our own countrymen by his glorious roll of
exploits, and he had also won a most splendid record among all
the provinces of the Swedes and Saxons. Tradition says that he
was born originally in the country which borders Sweden on the
east, where barbarous hordes of Esthonians and other nations
now dwell far and wide. But a fabulous yet common rumour has
invented tales about his birth which are contrary to reason
and flatly incredible. For some relate that he was sprung from
giants, and betrayed his monstrous birth by an extraordinary
number of hands, four of which, engendered by the superfluity
of his nature, they declare that the god Thor tore off,
shattering the framework of the sinews and wrenching from his
whole body the monstrous bunches of fingers; so that he had
but two left, and that his body, which had before swollen to
the size of a giant's, and, by reason of its shapeless crowd
of limbs looked gigantic, was thenceforth chastened to a
better appearance, and kept within the bounds of human
shortness.
For there were of old certain men versed in
sorcery, Thor, namely, and Odin, and many others, who were
cunning in contriving marvellous sleights; and they, winning
the minds of the simple, began to claim the rank of gods. For,
in particular, they ensnared Norway, Sweden and Denmark in the
vainest credulity, and by prompting these lands to worship
them, infected them with their imposture. The effects of their
deceit spread so far, that all other men adored a sort of
divine power in them, and, thinking them either gods or in
league with gods, offered up solemn prayers to these inventors
of sorceries, and gave to blasphemous error the honour due to
religion. Hence it has come about that the holy days, in their
regular course, are called among us by the names of these men;
for the ancient Latins are known to have named these days
severally, either after the titles of their own gods, or after
the planets, seven in number. But it can be plainly inferred
from the mere names of the holy days that the objects
worshipped by our countrymen were not the same as those whom
the most ancient of the Romans called Jove and Mercury, nor
those to whom Greece and Latium paid idolatrous homage. For
the days, called among our countrymen Thors-day or Odins-day,
the ancients termed severally the holy day of Jove or of
Mercury. If, therefore, according to the distinction implied
in the interpretation I have quoted, we take it that Thor is
Jove and Odin Mercury, it follows that Jove was the son of
Mercury; that is, if the assertion of our countrymen holds,
among whom it is told as a matter of common belief, that Thor
was Odin's son. Therefore, when the Latins, believing to the
contrary effect, declare that Mercury was sprung from Jove,
then, if their declaration is to stand, we are driven to
consider that Thor was not the same as Jove, and that Odin was
also different from Mercury. Some say that the gods, whom our
countrymen worshipped, shared only the title with those
honoured by Greece or Latium, but that, being in a manner
nearly equal to them in dignity, they borrowed from them the
worship as well as the name. This must be sufficient discourse
upon the deities of Danish antiquity. I have expounded this
briefly for the general profit, that my readers may know
clearly to what worship in its heathen superstition our
country has bowed the knee. Now I will go back to my subject
where I left it.
Ancient tradition says that Starkad, whom I
mentioned above, offered the first-fruits of his deeds to the
favour of the gods by slaying Wikar, the king of the
Norwegians. The affair, according to the version of some
people, happened as follows: --
Odin once wished to slay Wikar by a grievous
death; but, loth to do the deed openly, he graced Starkad, who
was already remarkable for his extraordinary size, not only
with bravery, but also with skill in the composing of spells,
that he might the more readily use his services to accomplish
the destruction of the king. For that was how he hoped that
Starkad would show himself grateful for the honour he paid
him. For the same reason he also endowed him with three spans
of mortal life, that he might be able to commit in them as
many abominable deeds. So Odin resolved that Starkad's days
should be prolonged by the following crime: Starkad presently
went to Wikar and dwelt awhile in his company, hiding
treachery under homage. At last he went with him sea- roving.
And in a certain place they were troubled with prolonged and
bitter storms; and when the winds checked their voyage so much
that they had to lie still most of the year, they thought that
the gods must be appeased with human blood. When the lots were
cast into the urn it so fell that the king was required for
death as a victim. Then Starkad made a noose of withies and
bound the king in it; saying that for a brief instant he
should pay the mere semblance of a penalty. But the tightness
of the knot acted according to its nature, and cut off his
last breath as he hung. And while he was still quivering
Starkad rent away with his steel the remnant of his life; thus
disclosing his treachery when he ought to have brought aid. I
do not think that I need examine the version which relates
that the pliant withies, hardened with the sudden grip, acted
like a noose of iron.
When Starkad had thus treacherously acted he
took Wikar's ship and went to one Bemon, the most courageous
of all the rovers of Denmark, in order to take up the life of
a pirate. For Bemon's partner, named Frakk, weary of the toil
of sea-roving, had lately withdrawn from partnership with him,
after first making a money- bargain. Now Starkad and Bemon
were so careful to keep temperate, that they are said never to
have indulged in intoxicating drink, for fear that continence,
the greatest bond of bravery, might be expelled by the power
of wantonness. So when, after overthrowing provinces far and
wide, they invaded Russia also in their lust for empire, the
natives, trusting little in their walls or arms, began to bar
the advance of the enemy with nails of uncommon sharpness,
that they might check their inroad, though they could not curb
their onset in battle; and that the ground might secretly
wound the soles of the men whom their army shrank from
confronting in the field. But not even such a barrier could
serve to keep off the foe. The Danes were cunning enough to
foil the pains of the Russians. For they straightway shod
themselves with wooden clogs, and trod with unhurt steps upon
the points that lay beneath their soles. Now this iron thing
is divided into four spikes, which are so arranged that on
whatsoever side chance may cast it, it stands steadily on
three equal feet. Then they struck into the pathless glades,
where the woods were thickets, and expelled Flokk, the chief
of the Russians, from the mountain hiding-places into which he
had crept. And here they got so much booty, that there was not
one of them but went back to the fleet laden with gold and
silver.
Now when Bemon was dead, Starkad was summoned
because of his valour by the champions of Permland. And when
he had done many noteworthy deeds among them, he went into the
land of the Swedes, where he lived at leisure for seven years'
space with the sons of Frey. At last he left them and betook
himself to Hakon, the tyrant of Denmark, because when
stationed at Upsala, at the time of the sacrifices, he was
disgusted by the effeminate gestures and the clapping of the
mimes on the stage, and by the unmanly clatter of the bells.
Hence it is clear how far he kept his soul from
lasciviousness, not even enduring to look upon it. Thus does
virtue withstand wantonness.
Starkad took his fleet to the shore of Ireland
with Hakon, in order that even the furthest kingdoms of the
world might not be untouched by the Danish arms. The king of
the island at this time was Hugleik, who, though he had a
well-filled treasury, was yet so prone to avarice, that once,
when he gave a pair of shoes which had been adorned by the
hand of a careful craftsman, he took off the ties, and by thus
removing the latches turned his present into a slight. This
unhandsome act blemished his gift so much that he seemed to
reap hatred for it instead of thanks. Thus he used never to be
generous to any respectable man, but to spend all his bounty
upon mimes and jugglers. For so base a fellow was bound to
keep friendly company with the base, and such a slough of
vices to wheedle his partners in sin with pandering
endearments.
Still Hugleik had the friendship of Geigad and
Swipdag, nobles of tried valour, who, by the lustre of their
warlike deeds, shone out among their unmanly companions like
jewels embedded in ordure; these alone were found to defend
the riches of the king. When a battle began between Hugleik
and Hakon, the hordes of mimes, whose light-mindedness
unsteadied their bodies, broke their ranks and scurried off in
panic; and this shameful flight was their sole requital for
all their king's benefits. Then Geigad and Swipdag faced all
those thousands of the enemy single- handed, and fought with
such incredible courage, that they seemed to do the part not
merely of two warriors, but of a whole army. Geigad, moreover,
dealt Hakon, who pressed him hard, such a wound in the breast
that he exposed the upper part of his liver. It was here that
Starkad, while he was attacking Geigad with his sword,
received a very sore wound on the head; wherefore he
afterwards related in a certain song that a ghastlier wound
had never befallen him at any time; for, though the divisions
of his gashed head were bound up by the surrounding outer
skin, yet the livid unseen wound concealed a foul gangrene
below.
Starkad conquered, killed Hugleik and routed
the Irish; and had the actors beaten whom chance made
prisoner; thinking it better to order a pack of buffoons to be
ludicrously punished by the loss of their skins than to
command a more deadly punishment and take their lives. Thus he
visited with a disgraceful chastisement the baseborn throng of
professional jugglers, and was content to punish them with the
disgusting flouts of the lash. Then the Danes ordered that the
wealth of the king should be brought out of the treasury in
the city of Dublin and publicly pillaged. For so vast a
treasure had been found that none took much pains to divide it
strictly.
After this, Starkad was commissioned, together
with Win, the chief of the Sclavs, to check the revolt of the
East. They, having fought against the armies of the
Kurlanders, the Sembs, the Sangals, and, finally, all the
Easterlings, won splendid victories everywhere.
A champion of great repute, named Wisin,
settled upon a rock in Russia named Ana-fial, and harried both
neighbouring and distant provinces with all kinds of outrage.
This man used to blunt the edge of every weapon by merely
looking at it. He was made so bold in consequence, by having
lost all fear of wounds, that he used to carry off the wives
of distinguished men and drag them to outrage before the eyes
of their husbands. Starkad was roused by the tale of this
villainy, and went to Russia to destroy the criminal; thinking
nothing too hard to overcome, he challenged Wisin, attacked
him, made even his tricks useless to him, and slew him. For
Starkad covered his blade with a very fine skin, that it might
not met the eye of the sorcerer; and neither the power of his
sleights nor his great strength were any help to Wisin, for he
had to yield to Starkad. Then Starkad, trusting in his bodily
strength, fought with and overcame a giant at Byzantium,
reputed invincible, named Tanne, and drove him to fly an
outlaw to unknown quarters of the earth. Therefore, finding
that he was too mighty for any hard fate to overcome him, he
went to the country of Poland, and conquered in a duel a
champion whom our countrymen name Wasce; but the Teutons,
arranging the letters differently, call him Wilzce.
Meanwhile the Saxons began to attempt a revolt,
and to consider particularly how they could destroy Frode, who
was unconquered in war, by some other way than an open
conflict. Thinking that it would be best done by a duel, they
sent men to provoke the king with a challenge, knowing that he
was always ready to court any hazard, and that his high spirit
would not yield to any admonition whatever. They fancied that
this was the best time to attack him, because they knew that
Starkad, whose valour most men dreaded, was away on business.
But while Frode hesitated, and said that he would talk with
his friends about the answer to be given, Starkad, who had
just returned from his sea-roving, appeared, and blamed such a
challenge, principally (he said) because it was fitting for
kings to fight only with their equals, and because they should
not take up arms against men of the people; but it was more
fitting for himself, who was born in a lowlier station, to
manage the battle.
The Saxons approached Hame, who was accounted
their most famous champion, with many offers, and promised him
that, if he would lend his services for the duel they would
pay him his own weight in gold. The fighter was tempted by the
money, and, with all the ovation of a military procession,
they attended him to the ground appointed for the combat.
Thereupon the Danes, decked in warlike array, led Starkad, who
was to represent his king, out to the duelling-ground. Hame,
in his youthful assurance, despised him as withered with age,
and chose to grapple rather than fight with an outworn old
man. Attacking Starkad, he would have flung him tottering to
the earth, but that fortune, who would not suffer the old man
to be conquered, prevented him from being hurt. For he is said
to have been so crushed by the fist of Hame, as he dashed on
him, that he touched the earth with his chin, supporting
himself on his knees. But he made up nobly for his tottering;
for, as soon as he could raise his knee and free his hand to
draw his sword, he clove Hame through the middle of the body.
Many lands and sixty bondmen apiece were the reward of the
victory.
After Hame was killed in this manner the sway
of the Danes over the Saxons grew so insolent, that they were
forced to pay every year a small tax for each of their limbs
that was a cubit (ell) long, in token of their slavery. This
Hanef could not bear, and he meditated war in his desire to
remove the tribute. Steadfast love of his country filled his
heart every day with greater compassion for the oppressed;
and, longing to spend his life for the freedom of his
countrymen, he openly showed a disposition to rebel. Frode
took his forces over the Elbe, and killed him near the village
of Hanofra (Hanover), so named after Hanef. But Swerting,
though he was equally moved by the distress of his countrymen,
said nothing about the ills of his land, and revolved a plan
for freedom with a spirit yet more dogged than Hanef's. Men
often doubt whether this zeal was liker to vice or to virtue;
but I certainly censure it as criminal, because it was
produced by a treacherous desire to revolt. It may have seemed
most expedient to seek the freedom of the country, but it was
not lawful to strive after this freedom by craft and
treachery. Therefore, since the deed of Swerting was far from
honourable, neither will it be called expedient; for it is
nobler to attack openly him whom you mean to attack, and to
exhibit hatred in the light of day, than to disguise a real
wish to do harm under a spurious show of friendship. But the
gains of crime are inglorious, its fruits are brief and
fading. For even as that soul is slippery, which hides its
insolent treachery by stealthy arts, so is it right that
whatsoever is akin to guilt should be frail and fleeting. For
guilt has been usually found to come home to its author; and
rumour relates that such was the fate of Swerting. For he had
resolved to surprise the king under the pretence of a banquet,
and burn him to death; but the king forestalled and slew him,
though slain by him in return. Hence the crime of one proved
the destruction of both; and thus, though the trick succeeded
against the foe, it did not bestow immunity on its author.
Frode was succeeded by his son Ingild, whose
soul was perverted from honour. He forsook the examples of his
forefathers, and utterly enthralled himself to the lures of
the most wanton profligacy. Thus he had not a shadow of
goodness and righteousness, but embraced vices instead of
virtue; he cut the sinews of self-control, neglected the
duties of his kingly station, and sank into a filthy slave of
riot. Indeed, he fostered everything that was adverse or
ill-fitted to an orderly life. He tainted the glories of his
father and grandfather by practising the foulest lusts, and
bedimmed the brightest honours of his ancestors by most
shameful deeds. For he was so prone to gluttony, that he had
no desire to avenge his father, or repel the aggressions of
his foes; and so, could he but gratify his gullet, he thought
that decency and self-control need be observed in nothing. By
idleness and sloth he stained his glorious lineage, living a
loose and sensual life; and his soul, so degenerate, so far
perverted and astray from the steps of his fathers, he loved
to plunge into most abominable gulfs of foulness.
Fowl-fatteners, scullions, frying-pans, countless cook-houses,
different cooks to roast or spice the banquet -- the choosing
of these stood to him for glory. As to arms, soldiering, and
wars, he could endure neither to train himself to them, nor to
let others practise them. Thus he cast away all the ambitions
of a man and aspired to those of women; for his incontinent
itching of palate stirred in him love of every kitchen-stench.
Ever breathing of his debauch, and stripped of every rag of
soberness, with his foul breath he belched the undigested
filth in his belly. He was as infamous in wantonness as Frode
was illustrious in war. So utterly had his spirit been
enfeebled by the untimely seductions of gluttony. Starkad was
so disgusted at the excess of Ingild, that he forsook his
friendship, and sought the fellowship of Halfdan, the King of
Swedes, preferring work to idleness. Thus he could not bear so
much as to countenance excessive indulgence. Now the sons of
Swerting, fearing that they would have to pay to Ingild the
penalty of their father's crime, were fain to forestall his
vengeance by a gift, and gave him their sister in marriage.
Antiquity relates that she bore him sons, Frode, Fridleif,
Ingild, and Olaf (whom some say was the son of Ingild's
sister).
Ingild's sister Helga had been led by amorous
wooing to return the flame of a certain low-born goldsmith,
who was apt for soft words, and furnished with divers of the
little gifts which best charm a woman's wishes. For since the
death of the king there had been none to honour the virtues of
the father by attention to the child; she had lacked
protection, and had no guardians. When Starkad had learnt this
from the repeated tales of travellers, he could not bear to
let the wantonness of the smith pass unpunished. For he was
always heedful to bear kindness in mind, and as ready to
punish arrogance. So he hastened to chastise such bold and
enormous insolence, wishing to repay the orphan ward the
benefits he had of old received from Frode. Then he travelled
through Sweden, went into the house of the smith, and posted
himself near the threshold muffling his face in a cap to avoid
discovery. The smith, who had not learnt the lesson that
"strong hands are sometimes found under a mean garment",
reviled him, and bade him quickly leave the house, saying that
he should have the last broken victuals among the crowd of
paupers. But the old man, whose ingrained self-control lent
him patience, was nevertheless fain to rest there, and
gradually study the wantonness of his host. For his reason was
stronger than his impetuosity, and curbed his increasing rage.
Then the smith approached the girl with open shamelessness,
and cast himself in her lap, offering the hair of his head to
be combed out by her maidenly hands.
Also he thrust forward his loin cloth, and
required her help in picking out the fleas; and exacted from
this woman of lordly lineage that she should not blush to put
her sweet fingers in a foul apron. Then, believing that he was
free to have his pleasure, he ventured to put his longing
palms within her gown and to set his unsteady hands close to
her breast. But she, looking narrowly, was aware of the
presence of the old man whom she once had known, and felt
ashamed. She spurned the wanton and libidinous fingering, and
repulsed the unchaste hands, telling the man also that he had
need of arms, and urging him to cease his lewd sport.
Starkad, who had sat down by the door, with the
hat muffling his head, had already become so deeply enraged at
this sight, that he could not find patience to hold his hand
any longer, but put away his covering and clapped his right
hand to his sword to draw it. Then the smith, whose only skill
was in lewdness, faltered with sudden alarm, and finding that
it had come to fighting, gave up all hope of defending
himself, and saw in flight the only remedy for his need. Thus
it was as hard to break out of the door, of which the enemy
held the approach, as it was grievous to await the smiter
within the house. At last necessity forced him to put an end
to his delay, and he judged that a hazard wherein there lay
but the smallest chance of safety was more desirable than sure
and manifest danger. Also, hard as it was to fly, the danger
being so close, yet he desired flight because it seemed to
bring him aid, and to be the nearer way to safety; and he cast
aside delay, which seemed to be an evil bringing not the
smallest help, but perhaps irretrievable ruin. But just as he
gained the threshold, the old man watching at the door smote
him through the hams, and there, half dead, he tottered and
fell. For the smiter thought he ought carefully to avoid
lending his illustrious hands to the death of a vile
cinder-blower, and considered that ignominy would punish his
shameless passion worse than death. Thus some men think that
he who suffers misfortune is worse punished than he who is
slain outright. Thus it was brought about, that the maiden,
who had never had parents to tend her, came to behave like a
woman of well-trained nature, and did the part, as it were, of
a zealous guardian to herself. And when Starkad, looking
round, saw that the household sorrowed over the late loss of
their master, he heaped shame on the wounded man with more
invective, and thus began to mock:
"Why is the house silent and aghast? What makes
this new grief? Or where now rest that doting husband whom the
steel has just punished for his shameful love? Keeps he still
aught of his pride and lazy wantonness? Holds he to his quest,
glows his lust as hot as before? Let him while away an hour
with me in converse, and allay with friendly words my hatred
of yesterday. Let your visage come forth with better cheer;
let not lamentation resound in the house, or suffer the faces
to become dulled with sorrow.
"Wishing to know who burned with love for the
maiden, and was deeply enamoured of my beloved ward, I put on
a cap, lest my familiar face might betray me. Then comes in
that wanton smith, with lewd steps, bending his thighs this
way and that with studied gesture, and likewise making eyes as
he ducked all ways. His covering was a mantle fringed with
beaver, his sandals were inlaid with gems, his cloak was
decked with gold. Gorgeous ribbons bound his plaited hair, and
a many-coloured band drew tight his straying locks. Hence grew
a sluggish and puffed-up temper; he fancied that wealth was
birth, and money forefathers, and reckoned his fortune more by
riches than by blood. Hence came pride unto him, and arrogance
led to fine attire. For the wretch began to think that his
dress made him equal to the high-born; he, the cinder-blower,
who hunts the winds with hides, and puffs with constant
draught, who rakes the ashes with his fingers, and often by
drawing back the bellows takes in the air, and with a little
fan makes a breath and kindles the smouldering fires! Then he
goes to the lap of the girl, and leaning close, says, `Maiden,
comb my hair and catch the skipping fleas, and remove what
stings my skin.' Then he sat and spread his arms that sweated
under the gold, lolling on the smooth cushion and leaning back
on his elbow, wishing to flaunt his adornment, just as a
barking brute unfolds the gathered coils of its twisted tail.
But she knew me, and began to check her lover and rebuff his
wanton hands; and, declaring that it was I, she said, `Refrain
thy fingers, check thy promptings, take heed to appease the
old man sitting close by the doors. The sport will turn to
sorrow. I think Starkad is here, and his slow gaze scans thy
doings.' The smith answered: `Turn not pale at the peaceful
raven and the ragged old man; never has that mighty one whom
thou fearest stooped to such common and base attire. The
strong man loves shining raiment, and looks for clothes to
match his courage.' Then I uncovered and drew my sword, and as
the smith fled I clove his privy parts; his hams were laid
open, cut away from the bone; they showed his entrails.
Presently I rise and crush the girl's mouth with my fist, and
draw blood from her bruised nostril. Then her lips, used to
evil laughter, were wet with tears mingled with blood, and
foolish love paid for all the sins it committed with soft
eyes. Over is the sport of the hapless woman who rushed on,
blind with desire, like a maddened mare, and makes her lust
the grave of her beauty. Thou deservest to be sold for a price
to foreign peoples and to grind at the mill, unless blood
pressed from thy breasts prove thee falsely accused, and thy
nipple's lack of milk clear thee of the crime. Howbeit, I
think thee free from this fault; yet bear not tokens of
suspicion, nor lay thyself open to lying tongues, nor give
thyself to the chattering populace to gird at. Rumour hurts
many, and a lying slander often harms. A little word deceives
the thoughts of common men. Respect thy grandsires, honour thy
fathers, forget not thy parents, value thy forefathers; let
thy flesh and blood keep its fame. What madness came on thee?
And thou, shameless smith, what fate drove thee in thy lust to
attempt a high-born race? Or who sped thee, maiden, worthy of
the lordliest pillows, to loves obscure? Tell me, how durst
thou taste with thy rosy lips a mouth reeking of ashes, or
endure on thy breast hands filthy with charcoal, or bring
close to thy side the arms that turn the live coals over, and
put the palms hardened with the use of the tongs to thy pure
cheeks, and embrace the head sprinkled with embers, taking it
to thy bright arms?
"I remember how smiths differ from one another,
for once they smote me. All share alike the name of their
calling, but the hearts beneath are different in temper. I
judge those best who weld warriors' swords and spears for the
battle, whose temper shows their courage, who betoken their
hearts by the sternness of their calling, whose work declares
their prowess. There are also some to whom the hollow mould
yields bronze, as they make the likeness of divers things in
molten gold, who smelt the veins and recast the metal. But
Nature has fashioned these of a softer temper, and has crushed
with cowardice the hands which she has gifted with rare skill.
Often such men, while the heat of the blast melts the bronze
that is poured in the mould, craftily filch flakes of gold
from the lumps, when the vessel thirsts after the metal they
have stolen."
So speaking, Starkad got as much pleasure from
his words as from his works, and went back to Halfdan,
embracing his service with the closest friendship, and never
ceasing from the exercise of war; so that he weaned his mind
from delights, and vexed it with incessant application to
arms.
Now Ingild had two sisters, Helga and Asa;
Helga was of full age to marry, while Asa was younger and
unripe for wedlock. Then Helge the Norwegian was moved with
desire to ask for Helga for his wife, and embarked. Now he had
equipped his vessel so luxuriously that he had lordly sails
decked with gold, held up also on gilded masts, and tied with
crimson ropes. When he arrived Ingild promised to grant him
his wish if, to test his reputation publicly, he would first
venture to meet in battle the champions pitted against him.
Helge did not flinch at the terms; he answered that he would
most gladly abide by the compact. And so the troth-plight of
the future marriage was most ceremoniously solemnized.
A story is remembered that there had grown up
at the same time, on the Isle of Zealand, the nine sons of a
certain prince, all highly gifted with strength and valour,
the eldest of whom was Anganty. This last was a rival suitor
for the same maiden; and when he saw that the match which he
had been denied was promised to Helge, he challenged him to a
struggle, wishing to fight away his vexation. Helge agreed to
the proposed combat. The hour of the fight was appointed for
the wedding-day by the common wish of both. For any man who,
being challenged, refused to fight, used to be covered with
disgrace in the sight of all men. Thus Helge was tortured on
the one side by the shame of refusing the battle, on the other
by the dread of waging it. For he thought himself attacked
unfairly and counter to the universal laws of combat, as he
had apparently undertaken to fight nine men single-handed.
While he was thus reflecting his betrothed told him that he
would need help, and counselled him to refrain from the
battle, wherein it seemed he would encounter only death and
disgrace, especially as he had not stipulated for any definite
limit to the number of those who were to be his opponents. He
should therefore avoid the peril, and consult his safety by
appealing to Starkad, who was sojourning among the Swedes;
since it was his way to help the distressed, and often to
interpose successfully to retrieve some dismal mischance.
Then Helge, who liked the counsel thus given
very well, took a small escort and went into Sweden; and when
he reached its most famous city, Upsala, he forbore to enter,
but sent in a messenger who was to invite Starkad to the
wedding of Frode's daughter, after first greeting him
respectfully to try him. This courtesy stung Starkad like an
insult. He looked sternly on the youth, and said, "That had he
not had his beloved Frode named in his instructions, he should
have paid dearly for his senseless mission. He must think that
Starkad, like some buffoon or trencherman, was accustomed to
rush off to the reek of a distant kitchen for the sake of a
richer diet." Helge, when his servant had told him this,
greeted the old man in the name of Frode's daughter, and asked
him to share a battle which he had accepted upon being
challenged, saying that he was not equal to it by himself, the
terms of the agreement being such as to leave the number of
his adversaries uncertain. Starkad, when he had heard the time
and place of the combat, not only received the suppliant well,
but also encouraged him with the offer of aid, and told him to
go back to Denmark with his companions, telling him that he
would find his way to him by a short and secret path. Helge
departed, and if we may trust report, Starkad, by sheer speed
of foot, travelled in one day's journeying over as great a
space as those who went before him are said to have
accomplished in twelve; so that both parties, by a chance
meeting, reached their journey's end, the palace of Ingild, at
the very same time. Here Starkad passed, just as the servants
did, along the tables filled with guests; and the
aforementioned nine, howling horribly with repulsive gestures,
and running about as if they were on the stage, encouraged one
another to the battle. Some say that they barked like furious
dogs at the champion as he approached. Starkad rebuked them
for making themselves look ridiculous with such an unnatural
visage, and for clowning with wide grinning cheeks; for from
this, he declared, soft and effeminate profligates derived
their wanton incontinence. When Starkad was asked banteringly
by the nine whether he had valour enough to fight, he answered
that doubtless he was strong enough to meet, not merely one,
but any number that might come against him. And when the nine
heard this they understood that this was the man whom they had
heard would come to the succour of Helge from afar. Starkad
also, to protect the bride-chamber with a more diligent guard,
voluntarily took charge of the watch; and, drawing back the
doors of the bedroom, barred them with a sword instead of a
bolt, meaning to post himself so as to give undisturbed quiet
to their bridal.
When Helge woke, and, shaking off the torpor of
sleep, remembered his pledge, he thought of buckling on his
armour. But, seeing that a little of the darkness of night yet
remained, and wishing to wait for the hour of dawn, he began
to ponder the perilous business at hand, when sleep stole on
him and sweetly seized him, so that he took himself back to
bed laden with slumber. Starkad, coming in on him at daybreak,
saw him locked asleep in the arms of his wife, and would not
suffer him to be vexed with a sudden shock, or summoned from
his quiet slumbers; lest he should seem to usurp the duty of
wakening him and breaking upon the sweetness of so new a
union, all because of cowardice. He thought it, therefore,
more handsome to meet the peril alone than to gain a comrade
by disturbing the pleasure of another. So he quietly retraced
his steps, and scorning his enemies, entered the field which
in our tongue is called Roliung, and finding a seat under the
slope of a certain hill, he exposed himself to wind and snow.
Then, as though the gentle airs of spring weather were
breathing upon him, he put off his cloak, and set to picking
out the fleas. He also cast on the briars a purple mantle
which Helga had lately given him, that no clothing might seem
to lend him shelter against the raging shafts of hail. Then
the champions came and climbed the hill on the opposite side;
and, seeking a spot sheltered from the winds wherein to sit,
they lit a fire and drove off the cold. At last, not seeing
Starkad, they sent a man to the crest of the hill, to watch
his coming more clearly, as from a watch-tower. This man
climbed to the top of the lofty mountain, and saw, on its
sloping side, an old man covered shoulder-high with the snow
that showered down. He asked him if he was the man who was to
fight according to the promise. Starkad declared that he was.
Then the rest came up and asked him whether he had resolved to
meet them all at once or one by one. But he said, "Whenever a
surly pack of curs yelps at me, I commonly send them flying
all at once, and not in turn." Thus he let them know that he
would rather fight with-them all together than one by one,
thinking that his enemies should be spurned with words first
and deeds afterwards.
The fight began furiously almost immediately,
and he felled six of them without receiving any wound in
return; and though the remaining three wounded him so hard in
seventeen places that most of his bowels gushed out of his
belly, he slew them notwithstanding, like their brethren.
Disembowelled, with failing strength, he suffered from
dreadful straits of thirst, and, crawling on his knees in his
desire to find a draught, he longed for water from the
streamlet that ran close by. But when he saw it was tainted
with gore he was disgusted at the look of the water, and
refrained from its infected draught. For Anganty had been
struck down in the waves of the river, and had dyed its course
so deep with his red blood that it seemed now to flow not with
water, but with some ruddy liquid. So Starkad thought it
nobler that his bodily strength should fail than that he
should borrow strength from so foul a beverage. Therefore, his
force being all but spent, he wriggled on his knees, up to a
rock that happened to be lying near, and for some little while
lay leaning against it. A hollow in its surface is still to be
seen, just as if his weight as he lay had marked it with a
distinct impression of his body. But I think this appearance
is due to human handiwork, for it seems to pass all belief
that the hard and uncleavable rock should so imitate the
softness of wax, as, merely by the contact of a man leaning on
it, to present the appearance of a man having sat there, and
assume concavity for ever.
A certain man, who chanced to be passing by in
a cart, saw Starkad wounded almost all over his body. Equally
aghast and amazed, he turned and drove closer, asking what
reward he should have if he were to tend and heal his wounds.
But Starkad would rather be tortured by grievous wounds than
use the service of a man of base estate, and first asked his
birth and calling. The man said that his profession was that
of a sergeant. Starkad, not content with despising him, also
spurned him with revilings, because, neglecting all honourable
business, he followed the calling of a hanger-on; and because
he had tarnished his whole career with ill repute, thinking
the losses of the poor his own gains; suffering none to be
innocent, ready to inflict wrongful accusation upon all men,
most delighted at any lamentable turn in the fortunes of
another; and toiling most at his own design, namely of
treacherously spying out all men's doings, and seeking some
traitorous occasion to censure the character of the innocent.
As this first man departed, another came up,
promising aid and remedies. Like the last comer, he was bidden
to declare his condition; and he said that he had a certain
man's handmaid to wife, and was doing peasant service to her
master in order to set her free. Starkad refused to accept his
help, because he had married in a shameful way by taking a
slave to his embrace. Had he had a shred of virtue he should
at least have disdained to be intimate with the slave of
another, but should have enjoyed some freeborn partner of his
bed. What a mighty man, then, must we deem Starkad, who, when
enveloped in the most deadly perils, showed himself as great
in refusing aid as in receiving wounds!
When this man departed a woman chanced to
approach and walk past the old man. She came up to him in
order to wipe his wounds, but was first bidden to declare what
was her birth and calling. She said that she was a handmaid
used to grinding at the mill. Starkad then asked her if she
had children; and when he was told that she had a female
child, he told her to go home and give the breast to her
squalling daughter; for he thought it most uncomely that he
should borrow help from a woman of the lowest degree.
Moreover, he knew that she could nourish her own flesh and
blood with milk better than she could minister to the wounds
of a stranger.
As the woman was departing, a young man came
riding up in a cart. He saw the old man, and drew near to
minister to his wounds. On being asked who he was, he said his
father was a labourer, and added that he was used to the
labours of a peasant. Starkad praised his origin, and
pronounced that his calling was also most worthy of honour;
for, he said, such men sought a livelihood by honourable
traffic in their labour, inasmuch as they knew not of any
gain, save what they had earned by the sweat of their brow. He
also thought that a country life was justly to be preferred
even to the most splendid riches; for the most wholesome
fruits of it seemed to be born and reared in the shelter of a
middle estate, halfway between magnificence and squalor. But
he did not wish to pass the kindness of the youth unrequited,
and rewarded the esteem he had shown him with the mantle he
had cast among the thorns. So the peasant's son approached,
replaced the parts of his belly that had been torn away, and
bound up with a plait of withies the mass of intestines that
had fallen out. Then he took the old man to his car, and with
the most zealous respect carried him away to the palace.
Meantime Helga, in language betokening the
greatest wariness, began to instruct her husband, saying that
she knew that Starkad, as soon as he came back from conquering
the champions, would punish him for his absence, thinking that
he had inclined more to sloth and lust than to his promise to
fight as appointed. Therefore he must withstand Starkad
boldly, because he always spared the brave but loathed the
coward. Helge respected equally her prophecy and her counsel,
and braced his soul and body with a glow of valorous
enterprise. Starkad, when he had been driven to the palace,
heedless of the pain of his wounds, leaped swiftly out of the
cart, and just like a man who was well from top to toe, burst
into the bridal-chamber, shattering the doors with his fist.
Then Helge leapt from his bed, and, as he had been taught by
the counsel of his wife, plunged his blade full at Starkad's
forehead. And since he seemed to be meditating a second blow,
and to be about to make another thrust with his sword, Helga
flew quickly from the couch, caught up a shield, and, by
interposing it, saved the old man from impending destruction;
for, notwithstanding, Helge with a stronger stroke of his
blade smote the shield right through to the boss. Thus the
praiseworthy wit of the woman aided her friend, and her hand
saved him whom her counsel had injured; for she protected the
old man by her deed, as well as her husband by her warning.
Starkad was induced by this to let Helge go scot-free; saying
that a man whose ready and assured courage so surely betokened
manliness, ought to be spared; for he vowed that a man ill
deserved death whose brave spirit was graced with such a
dogged will to resist.
Starkad went back to Sweden before his wounds
had been treated with medicine, or covered with a single scar.
Halfdan had been killed by his rivals; and Starkad, after
quelling certain rebels, set up Siward as the heir to his
father's sovereignty. With him he sojourned a long time; but
when he heard -- for the rumour spread -- that Ingild, the son
of Frode (who had been treacherously slain), was perversely
minded, and instead of punishing his father's murderers,
bestowed upon them kindness and friendship, he was vexed with
stinging wrath at so dreadful a crime. And, resenting that a
youth of such great parts should have renounced his descent
from his glorious father, he hung on his shoulders a mighty
mass of charcoal, as though it were some costly burden, and
made his way to Denmark. When asked by those he met why he was
taking along so unusual a load, he said that he would sharpen
the dull wits of King Ingild to a point by bits of charcoal.
So he accomplished a swift and headlong journey, as though at
a single breath, by a short and speedy track; and at last,
becoming the guest of Ingild, he went up, as his custom was,
in to the seat appointed for the great men; for he had been
used to occupy the highest post of distinction with the kings
of the last generation.
When the queen came in, and saw him covered
over with filth and clad in the mean, patched clothes of a
peasant, the ugliness of her guest's dress made her judge him
with little heed; and, measuring the man by the clothes, she
reproached him with crassness of wit, because he had gone
before greater men in taking his place at table, and had
assumed a seat that was too good for his boorish attire. She
bade him quit the place, that he might not touch the cushions
with his dress, which was fouler than it should have been. For
she put down to crassness and brazenness what Starkad only did
from proper pride; she knew not that on a high seat of honour
the mind sometimes shines brighter than the raiment. The
spirited old man obeyed, though vexed at the rebuff, and with
marvellous self-control choked down the insult which his
bravery so ill deserved; uttering at this disgrace he had
received neither word nor groan. But he could not long bear to
hide the bitterness of his anger in silence. Rising, and
retreating to the furthest end of the palace, he flung his
body against the walls; and strong as they were, he so
battered them with the shock, that the beams quaked mightily;
and he nearly brought the house down in a crash. Thus, stung
not only with his rebuff, but with the shame of having poverty
cast in his teeth, he unsheathed his wrath against the
insulting speech of the queen with inexorable sternness.
Ingild, on his return from hunting, scanned him
closely, and, when he noticed that he neither looked
cheerfully about, nor paid him the respect of rising, saw by
the sternness written on his brow that it was Starkad. For
when he noted his hands horny with fighting, his scars in
front, the force and fire of his eye, he perceived that a man
whose body was seamed with so many traces of wounds had no
weakling soul. He therefore rebuked his wife, and charged her
roundly to put away her haughty tempers, and to soothe and
soften with kind words and gentle offices the man she had
reviled; to comfort him with food and drink, and refresh him
with kindly converse; saying, that this man had been appointed
his tutor by his father long ago, and had been a most tender
guardian of his childhood. Then, learning too late the temper
of the old man, she turned her harshness into gentleness, and
respectfully waited on him whom she had rebuffed and railed at
with bitter revilings. The angry hostess changed her part, and
became the most fawning of flatterers. She wished to check his
anger with her attentiveness; and her fault was the less,
inasmuch as she was so quick in ministering to him after she
had been chidden. But she paid dearly for it, for she
presently beheld stained with the blood of her brethren the
place where she had flouted and rebuffed the brave old man
from his seat.
Now, in the evening, Ingild took his meal with
the sons of Swerting, and fell to a magnificent feast, loading
the tables with the profusest dishes. With friendly invitation
he kept the old man back from leaving the revel too early; as
though the delights of elaborate dainties could have
undermined that staunch and sturdy virtue! But when Starkad
had set eyes on these things, he scorned so wanton a use of
them; and, not to give way a whit to foreign fashions, he
steeled his appetite against these tempting delicacies with
the self-restraint which was his greatest strength. He would
not suffer his repute as a soldier to be impaired by the
allurements of an orgy. For his valour loved thrift, and was a
stranger to all superfluity of food, and averse to feasting in
excess. For his was a courage which never at any moment had
time to make luxury of aught account, and always forewent
pleasure to pay due heed to virtue. So, when he saw that the
antique character of self-restraint, and all good old customs,
were being corrupted by new-fangled luxury and sumptuosity, he
wished to be provided with a morsel fitter for a peasant, and
scorned the costly and lavish feast.
Spurning profuse indulgence in food, Starkad
took some smoky and rather rancid fare, appeasing his hunger
with a bitter relish because more simply; and being unwilling
to enfeeble his true valour with the tainted sweetness of
sophisticated foreign dainties, or break the rule of antique
plainness by such strange idolatries of the belly. He was also
very wroth that they should go, to the extravagance of having
the same meat both roasted and boiled at the same meal; for he
considered an eatable which was steeped in the vapours of the
kitchen, and which the skill of the cook rubbed over with many
kinds of flavours, in the light of a monstrosity.
Unlike Starkad Ingild flung the example of his
ancestors to the winds, and gave himself freer licence of
innovation in the fashions of the table than the custom of his
fathers allowed. For when he had once abandoned himself to the
manners of Teutonland, he did not blush to yield to its
unmanly wantonness. No slight incentives to debauchery have
flowed down our country's throat from that sink of a land.
Hence came magnificent dishes, sumptuous kitchens, the base
service of cooks, and all sorts of abominable sausages. Hence
came our adoption, wandering from the ways of our fathers, of
a more dissolute dress. Thus our country, which cherished
self-restraint as its native quality, has gone begging to our
neighbours for luxury; whose allurements so charmed Ingild,
that he did not think it shameful to requite wrongs with
kindness; nor did the grievous murder of his father make him
heave one sigh of bitterness when it crossed his mind.
But the queen would not depart without
effecting her purpose. Thinking that presents would be the
best way to banish the old man's anger, she took off her own
head a band of marvellous handiwork, and put it in his lap as
he supped: desiring to buy his favour since she could not
blunt his courage. But Starkad, whose bitter resentment was
not yet abated, flung it back in the face of the giver,
thinking that in such a gift there was more scorn than
respect. And he was wise not to put this strange ornament of
female dress upon the head that was all bescarred and used to
the helmet; for he knew that the locks of a man ought not to
wear a woman's head-band. Thus he avenged slight with slight,
and repaid with retorted scorn the disdain he had received;
thereby bearing himself well-nigh as nobly in avenging his
disgrace as he had borne himself in enduring it.
To the soul of Starkad reverence for Frode was
grappled with hooks of love. Drawn to him by deeds of bounty,
countless kindnesses, he could not be wheedled into giving up
his purpose of revenge by any sort of alluring complaisance.
Even now, when Frode was no more, he was eager to pay the
gratitude due to his benefits, and to requite the kindness of
the dead, whose loving disposition and generous friendship he
had experienced while he lived. For he bore graven so deeply
in his heart the grievous picture of Frode's murder, that his
honour for that most famous captain could never be plucked
from the inmost chamber of his soul; and therefore he did not
hesitate to rank his ancient friendship before the present
kindness. Besides, when he recalled the previous affront, he
could not thank the complaisance that followed; he could not
put aside the disgraceful wound to his self-respect. For the
memory of benefits or injuries ever sticks more firmly in the
minds of brave men than in those of weaklings. For he had not
the habits of those who follow their friends in prosperity and
quit them in adversity, who pay more regard to fortune than to
looks, and sit closer to their own gain than to charity toward
others.
But the woman held to her purpose, seeing that
even so she could not win the old man to convivial mirth.
Continuing with yet more lavish courtesy her efforts to soothe
him, and to heap more honours on the guest, she bade a piper
strike up, and started music to melt his unbending rage. For
she wanted to unnerve his stubborn nature by means of cunning
sounds. But the cajolery of pipe or string was just as
powerless to enfeeble that dogged warrior. When he heard it,
he felt that the respect paid him savoured more of pretence
than of love. Hence the crestfallen performer seemed to be
playing to a statue rather than a man, and learnt that it is
vain for buffoons to assail with, their tricks a settled and
weighty sternness, and that a mighty mass cannot be shaken
with the idle puffing of the lips. For Starkad had set his
face so firmly in his stubborn wrath, that he seemed not a
whit easier to move than ever. For the inflexibility which he
owed his vows was not softened either by the strain of the
lute or the enticements of the palate; and he thought that
more respect should be paid to his strenuous and manly purpose
than to the tickling of the ears or the lures of the feast.
Accordingly he flung the bone, which he had stripped in eating
the meat, in the face of the harlequin, and drove the wind
violently out of his puffed cheeks, so that they collapsed. By
this he showed how his austerity loathed the clatter of the
stage; for his ears were stopped with anger and open to no
influence of delight. This reward, befitting an actor,
punished an unseemly performance with a shameful wage. For
Starkad excellently judged the man's deserts, and bestowed a
shankbone for the piper to pipe on, requiting his soft service
with a hard fee. None could say whether the actor piped or
wept the louder; he showed by his bitter flood of tears how
little place bravery has in the breasts of the dissolute. For
the fellow was a mere minion of pleasure, and had never learnt
to bear the assaults of calamity. This man's hurt was ominous
of the carnage that was to follow at the feast. Right well did
Starkad's spirit, heedful of sternness, hold with stubborn
gravity to steadfast revenge; for he was as much disgusted at
the lute as others were delighted, and repaid the unwelcome
service by insultingly flinging a bone; thus avowing that he
owed a greater debt to the glorious dust of his mighty friend
than to his shameless and infamous ward.
But when Starkad saw that the slayers of Frode
were in high favour with the king, his stern glances expressed
the mighty wrath which he harboured, and his face betrayed
what he felt. The visible fury of his gaze betokened the
secret tempest in his heart. At last, when Ingild tried to
appease him with royal fare, he spurned the dainty. Satisfied
with cheap and common food, he utterly spurned outlandish
delicacies; he was used to plain diet, and would not pamper
his palate with any delightful flavour. When he was asked why
he had refused the generous attention of the king with such a
clouded brow, he said that he had come to Denmark to find the
son of Frode, not a man who crammed his proud and gluttonous
stomach with rich elaborate feasts. For the Teuton
extravagance which the king favoured had led him, in his
longing for the pleasures of abundance, to set to the fire
again, for roasting, dishes which had been already boiled.
Thereupon he could not forbear from attacking Ingild's
character, but poured out the whole bitterness of his
reproaches on his head. He condemned his unfilial spirit,
because he gaped with repletion and vented his squeamishness
in filthy hawkings; because, following the lures of the
Saxons, he strayed and departed far from soberness; because he
was so lacking in manhood as not to pursue even the faintest
shadow of it. But, declared Starkad, he bore the heaviest load
of infamy, because, even when he first began to see service,
he forgot to avenge his father, to whose butchers, forsaking
the law of nature, he was kind and attentive. Men whose
deserts were most vile he welcomed with loving affection; and
not only did he let those go scot-free, whom he should have
punished most sharply, but he even judged them fit persons to
live with and entertain at his table, whereas he should rather
have put them to death. Hereupon Starkad is also said to have
sung as follows:
"Let the unwarlike youth yield to the aged, let
him honour all the years of him that is old. When a man is
brave, let none reproach the number of his days.
"Though the hair of the ancient whiten with
age, their valour stays still the same; nor shall the lapse of
time have power to weaken their manly heart.
"I am elbowed away by the offensive guest, who
taints with vice his outward show of goodness, whilst he is
the slave of his belly and prefers his daily dainties to
anything.
"When I was counted as a comrade of Frode, I
ever sat in the midst of warriors on a high seat in the hall,
and I was the first of the princes to take my meal.
"Now, the lot of a nobler age is reversed; I am
shut in a corner, I am like the fish that seeks shelter as it
wanders to and fro hidden in the waters.
"I, who used surely in the former age to lie
back on a couch handsomely spread, am now thrust among the
hindmost and driven from the crowded hall.
"Perchance I had been driven on my back at the
doors, had not the wall struck my side and turned me back, and
had not the beam, in the way made it hard for me to fly when I
was thrust forth.
"I am baited with the jeers of the court-folk;
I am not received as a guest should be; I am girded at with
harsh gibing, and stung with babbling taunts.
"I am a stranger, and would gladly know what
news are spread abroad by busy rumour; what is the course of
events; what the order of the land; what is doing in your
country.
"Thou, Ingild, buried in sin, why dost thou
tarry in the task of avenging thy father? Wilt thou think
tranquilly of the slaughter of thy righteous sire?
"Why dost thou, sluggard, think only of
feasting, and lean thy belly back in ease, more effeminate
than harlots? Is the avenging of thy slaughtered father a
little thing to thee?
"When last I left thee, Frode, I learned by my
prophetic soul that thou, mightiest of kings, wouldst surely
perish by the sword of enemies.
"And while I travelled long in the land, a
warning groan rose in my soul, which augured that thereafter I
was never to see thee more.
"Wo is me, that then I was far away, harrying
the farthest peoples of the earth, when the traitorous guest
aimed craftily at the throat of his king.
"Else I would either have shown myself the
avenger of my lord, or have shared his fate and fallen where
he fell, and would joyfully have followed the blessed king in
one and the same death.
"I have not come to indulge in gluttonous
feasting, the sin whereof I will strive to chastise; nor will
I take mine ease, nor the delights of the fat belly.
"No famous king has ever set me before in the
middle by the strangers. I have been wont to sit in the
highest seats among friends.
"I have come from Sweden, travelling over wide
lands, thinking that I should be rewarded, if only I had the
joy to find the son of my beloved Frode.
"But I sought a brave man, and I have come to a
glutton, a king who is the slave of his belly and of vice,
whose liking has been turned back towards wantonness by filthy
pleasure.
"Famous is the speech men think that Halfdan
spoke: he warned us it would soon come to pass that an
understanding father should beget a witless son.
"Though the heir be deemed degenerate, I will
not suffer the wealth of mighty Frode to profit strangers or
to be made public like plunder."
At these words the queen trembled, and she took
from her head the ribbon with which she happened, in woman's
fashion, to be adorning her hair, and proffered it to the
enraged old man, as though she could avert his anger with a
gift. Starkad in anger flung it back most ignominiously in the
face of the giver, and began again in a loud voice:
"Take hence, I pray thee, thy woman's gift, and
set back thy headgear on thy head; no brave man assumes the
chaplets that befit Love only.
"For it is amiss that the hair of men that are
ready for battle should be bound back with wreathed gold; such
attire is right for the throngs of the soft and effeminate.
"But take this gift to thy husband, who loves
luxury, whose finger itches, while he turns over the rump and
handles the flesh of the bird roasted brown.
"The flighty and skittish wife of Ingild longs
to observe the fashions of the Teutons; she prepares the orgy
and makes ready the artificial dainties.
"For she tickles the palate with a new-fangled
feast; she pursues the zest of an unknown flavour, raging to
load all the tables with dishes yet more richly than before.
"She gives her lord wine to drink in bowls,
pondering all things with zealous preparation; she bids the
cooked meats be roasted, and intends them for a second fire.
"Wantonly she feeds her husband like a hog; a
shameless whore, trusting....
"She roasts the boiled, and recooks the roasted
meats, planning the meal with spendthrift extravagance,
careless of right and wrong, practising sin, a foul woman.
"Wanton in arrogance, a soldier of Love,
longing for dainties, she abjures the fair ways of
self-control, and also provides devices for gluttony.
"With craving stomach she desires turnip
strained in a smooth pan, cakes with thin juice, and shellfish
in rows.
"I do not remember the Great Frode putting his
hand to the sinews of birds, or tearing the rump of a cooked
fowl with crooked thumb.
"What former king could have been so gluttonous
as to stir the stinking filthy flesh, or rummage in the foul
back of a bird with plucking fingers?
"The food of valiant men is raw; no need,
methinks, of sumptuous tables for those whose stubborn souls
are bent on warfare.
"It had been fitter for thee to have torn the
stiff beard, biting hard with thy teeth, than greedily to have
drained the bowl of milk with thy wide mouth.
"We fled from the offence of the sumptuous
kitchen; we stayed our stomach with rancid fare; few in the
old days loved cooked juices.
"A dish with no sauce of herbs gave us the
flesh of rams and swine. We partook temperately, tainting
nothing with bold excess.
"Thou who now lickest the milk-white fat, put
on, prithee, the spirit of a man; remember Frode, and avenge
thy father's death.
"The worthless and cowardly heart shall perish,
and shall not parry the thrust of death by flight, though it
bury itself in a valley, or crouch in darkling dens.
"Once we were eleven princes, devoted followers
of King Hakon, and here Geigad sat above Helge in the order of
the meal.
"Geigad used to appease the first pangs of
hunger with a dry rump of ham; and plenty of hard crust
quelled the craving of his stomach.
"No one asked for a sickly morsel; all took
their food in common; the meal of mighty men cost but slight
display.
"The commons shunned foreign victual, and the
greatest lusted not for a feast; even the king remembered to
live temperately at little cost.
"Scorning to look at the mead, he drank the
fermented juice of Ceres; he shrank not from the use of
undercooked meats, and hated the roast.
"The board used to stand with slight display, a
modest salt- cellar showed the measure of its cost; lest the
wise ways of antiquity should in any wise be changed by
foreign usage.
"Of old, no man put flagons or mixing-bowls on
the tables; the steward filled the cup from the butt, and
there was no abundance of adorned vessels.
"No one who honoured past ages put the smooth
wine-jars beside the tankards, and of old no bedizened lackey
heaped the platter with dainties.
"Nor did the vainglorious host deck the meal
with little salt- shell or smooth cup; but all has been now
abolished in shameful wise by the new-fangled manners.
"Who would ever have borne to take money in
ransom for the death of a lost parent, or to have asked a foe
for a gift to atone for the murder of a father?
"What strong heir or well-starred son would
have sat side by side with such as these, letting a shameful
bargain utterly unnerve the warrior?
"Wherefore, when the honours of kings are sung,
and bards relate the victories of captains, I hide my face for
shame in my mantle, sick at heart.
"For nothing shines in thy trophies, worthy to
be recorded by the pen; no heir of Frode is named in the roll
of the honourable.
"Why dost thou vex me with insolent gaze, thou
who honourest the foe guilty of thy father's blood, and art
thought only to take thy vengeance with loaves and warm soup?
"When men speak well of the avengers of crimes,
then long thou to lose thy quick power of hearing, that thy
impious spirit may not be ashamed.
"For oft has the virtue of another vexed a
heart that knows its guilt, and the malice in the breast is
abashed by the fair report of the good.
"Though thou go to the East, or live
sequestered in the countries of the West, or whether, driven
thence, thou seek the midmost place of the earth;
"Whether thou revisit the cold quarter of the
heaven where the pole is to be seen, and carries on the sphere
with its swift spin, and looks down upon the neighbouring
Bear;
"Shame shall accompany thee far, and shall
smite thy countenance with heavy disgrace, when the united
assembly of the great kings is taking pastime.
"Since everlasting dishonour awaits thee, thou
canst not come amidst the ranks of the famous; and in every
clime thou shalt pass thy days in infamy.
"The fates have given Frode an offspring born
into the world when gods were adverse, whose desires have been
enthralled by crime and ignoble lust.
"Even as in a ship all things foul gather to
the filthy hollow of the bilge, even so hath a flood of vices
poured into Ingild.
"Therefore, in terror of thy shame being
published, thou shalt lie crushed in the corners of the land,
sluggish on thy foul hearth, and never to be seen in the array
of the famous.
"Then shalt thou shake thy beard at thine evil
fate, kept down by the taunts of thy mistresses, when thy
paramour galls thy ear with her querulous cries.
"Since chill fear retards thy soul, and thou
dreadest to become the avenger of thy sire, thou art utterly
degenerate, and thy ways are like a slave's.
"It would have needed scant preparation to
destroy thee; even as if a man should catch and cut the throat
of a kid, or slit the weazand of a soft sheep and butcher it.
"Behold, a son of the tyrant Swerting shall
take the inheritance of Denmark after thee; he whose slothful
sister thou keepest in infamous union.
"Whilst thou delightest to honour thy bride,
laden with gems and shining in gold apparel, we burn with all
indignation that is linked with shame, lamenting thy infamies.
"When thou art stirred by furious lust, our
mind is troubled, and recalls the fashion of ancient times,
and bids us grieve sorely.
"For we rate otherwise than thou the crime of
the foes whom now thou holdest in honour; wherefore the face
of this age is a burden to me, remembering the ancient ways.
"I would crave no greater blessing, O Frode, if
I might see those guilty of thy murder duly punished for such
a crime."
Now he prevailed so well by this stirring
counsel, that his reproach served like a flint wherewith to
strike a blazing flame of valour in the soul that had been
chill and slack. For the king had at first heard the song
inattentively; but, stirred by the earnest admonition of his
guardian, he conceived in his heart a tardy fire of revenge;
and, forgetting the reveller, he changed into the foeman. At
last he leapt up from where he lay, and poured the whole flood
of his anger on those at table with him; insomuch that he
unsheathed his sword upon the sons of Swerting with bloody
ruthlessness, and aimed with drawn blade at the throats of
those whose gullets he had pampered with the pleasures of the
table. These men he forthwith slew; and by so doing he drowned
the holy rites of the table in blood. He sundered the feeble
bond of their league, and exchanged a shameful revel for
enormous cruelty; the host became the foe, and that vilest
slave of excess the bloodthirsty agent of revenge. For the
vigorous pleading of his counsellor bred a breath of courage
in his soft and unmanly youth; it drew out his valour from its
lurking-place, and renewed it, and so fashioned it that the
authors of a most grievous murder were punished even as they
deserved. For the young man's valour had been not quenched,
but only in exile, and the aid of an old man had drawn it out
into the light; and it accomplished a deed which was all the
greater for its tardiness; for it was somewhat nobler to steep
the cups in blood than in wine. What a spirit, then, must we
think that old man had, who by his eloquent adjuration
expelled from that king's mind its infinite sin, and who,
bursting the bonds of iniquity, implanted a most effectual
seed of virtue. Starkad aided the king with equal
achievements; and not only showed the most complete courage in
his own person, but summoned back that which had been rooted
out of the heart of another. When the deed was done, he thus
begun:
"King Ingild, farewell; thy heart, full of
valour, hath now shown a deed of daring. The spirit that
reigns in thy body is revealed by its fair beginning; nor did
there lack deep counsel in thy heart, though thou wert silent
till this hour; for thou dost redress by thy bravery what
delay had lost, and redeemest the sloth of thy spirit by
mighty valour. Come now, let us rout the rest, and let none
escape the peril which all alike deserve. Let the crime come
home to the culprit; let the sin return and crush its
contriver.
"Let the servants take up in a car the bodies
of the slain, and let the attendant quickly bear out the
carcases. Justly shall they lack the last rites; they are
unworthy to be covered with a mound; let no funeral procession
or pyre suffer them the holy honour of a barrow; let them be
scattered to rot in the fields, to be consumed by the beaks of
birds; let them taint the country all about with their deadly
corruption.
"Do thou too, king, if thou hast any wit, flee
thy savage bride, lest the she-wolf bring forth a litter like
herself, and a beast spring from thee that shall hurt its own
father.
"Tell me, Rote, continual derider of cowards,
thinkest thou that we have avenged Frode enough, when we have
spent seven deaths on the vengeance of one? Lo, those are
borne out dead who paid homage not to thy sway in deed, but
only in show, and though obsequious they planned treachery.
But I always cherished this hope, that noble fathers have
noble offspring, who will follow in their character the lot
which they received by their birth. Therefore, Ingild, better
now than in time past dost thou deserve to be called lord of
Leire and of Denmark.
"When, O King Hakon, I was a beardless youth,
and followed thy leading and command in warfare, I hated
luxury and wanton souls, and practiced only wars. Training
body and mind together, I banished every unholy thing from my
soul, and shunned the pleasures of the belly, loving deeds of
prowess. For those that followed the calling of arms had rough
clothing and common gear and short slumbers and scanty rest.
Toil drove ease far away, and the time ran by at scanty cost.
Not as with some men now, the light of whose reason is
obscured by insatiate greed with its blind maw. Some one of
these clad in a covering of curiously wrought raiment
effeminately guides the fleet-footed (steed), and unknots his
dishevelled locks, and lets his hair fly abroad loosely.
"He loves to plead often in the court, and to
covet a base pittance, and with this pursuit he comforts his
sluggish life, doing with venal tongue the business entrusted
to him.
"He outrages the laws by force, he makes armed
assault upon men's rights, he tramples on the innocent, he
feeds on the wealth of others, he practices debauchery and
gluttony, he vexes good fellowship with biting jeers, and goes
after harlots as a hoe after the grass.
"The coward falls when battles are lulled in
peace. Though he who fears death lie in the heart of the
valley, no mantlet shall shelter him. His final fate carries
off every living man; doom is not to be averted by skulking.
But I, who have shaken the whole world with my slaughters,
shall I enjoy a peaceful death? Shall I be taken up to the
stars in a quiet end? Shall I die in my bed without a wound?"
BOOK SEVEN
We are told by historians of old, that Ingild
had four sons, of whom three perished in war, while OLAF alone
reigned after his father; but some say that Olaf was the son
of Ingild's sister, though this opinion is doubtful. Posterity
has but an uncertain knowledge of his deeds, which are dim
with the dust of antiquity; nothing but the last counsel of
his wisdom has been rescued by tradition. For when he was in
the last grip of death he took thought for his sons FRODE and
HARALD, and bade them have royal sway, one over the land and
the other over the sea, and receive these several powers, not
in prolonged possession, but in yearly rotation. Thus their
share in the rule was made equal; but Frode, who was the first
to have control of the affairs of the sea, earned disgrace
from his continual defeats in roving. His calamity was due to
his sailors being newly married, and preferring nuptial joys
at home to the toils of foreign warfare. After a time Harald,
the younger son, received the rule of the sea, and chose
soldiers who were unmarried, fearing to be baffled like his
brother. Fortune favoured his choice; for he was as glorious a
rover as his brother was inglorious; and this earned him his
brother's hatred. Moreover, their queens, Signe and Ulfhild,
one of whom was the daughter of Siward, King of Sweden, the
other of Karl, the governor of Gothland, were continually
wrangling as to which was the nobler, and broke up the mutual
fellowship of their husbands. Hence Harald and Frode, when
their common household was thus shattered, divided up the
goods they held in common, and gave more heed to the wrangling
altercations of the women than to the duties of brotherly
affection.
Moreover, Frode, judging that his brother's
glory was a disgrace to himself and brought him into contempt,
ordered one of his household to put him to death secretly; for
he saw that the man of whom he had the advantage in years was
surpassing him in courage. When the deed was done, he had the
agent of his treachery privily slain, lest the accomplice
should betray the crime. Then, in order to gain the credit of
innocence and escape the brand of crime, he ordered a full
inquiry to be made into the mischance that had cut off his
brother so suddenly. But he could not manage, by all his arts,
to escape silent condemnation in the thoughts of the common
people. He afterwards asked Karl, "Who had killed Harald?" and
Karl replied that it was deceitful in him to ask a question
about something which he knew quite well. These words earned
him his death; for Frode thought that he had reproached him
covertly with fratricide.
After this, the lives of Harald and Halfdan,
the sons of Harald by Signe the daughter of Karl, were
attempted by their uncle. But the guardians devised a cunning
method of saving their wards. For they cut off the claws of
wolves and tied them to the soles of their feet; and then made
them run along many times so as to harrow up the mud near
their dwelling, as well as the ground (then covered with,
snow), and give the appearance of an attack by wild beasts.
Then they killed the children of some bond- women, tore their
bodies into little pieces, and scattered their mangled limbs
all about. So when the youths were looked for in vain, the
scattered limbs were found, the tracks of the beasts were
pointed out, and the ground was seen besmeared with blood. It
was believed that the boys had been devoured by ravening
wolves; and hardly anyone was suffered to doubt so plain a
proof that they were mangled. The belief in this spectacle
served to protect the wards. They were presently shut up by
their guardians in a hollow oak, so that no trace of their
being alive should get abroad, and were fed for a long time
under pretence that they were dogs; and were even called by
hounds' names, to prevent any belief getting abroad that they
were hiding. (1)
Frode alone refused to believe in their death;
and he went and inquired of a woman skilled in divination
where they were hid. So potent were her spells, that she
seemed able, at any distance, to perceive anything, however
intricately locked away, and to summon it out to light. She
declared that one Ragnar had secretly undertaken to rear them,
and had called them by the names of dogs to cover the matter.
When the young men found themselves dragged from their hiding
by the awful force of her spells, and brought before the eyes
of the enchantress, loth to be betrayed by this terrible and
imperious compulsion, they flung into her lap a shower of gold
which they had received from their guardians. When she had
taken the gift, she suddenly feigned death, and fell like one
lifeless. Her servants asked the reason why she fell so
suddenly; and she declared that the refuge of the sons of
Harald was inscrutable; for their wondrous might qualified
even the most awful effects of her spells. Thus she was
content with a slight benefit, and could not bear to await a
greater reward at the king's hands. After this Ragnar, finding
that the belief concerning himself and his wards was becoming
rife in common talk, took them, both away into Funen. Here he
was taken by Frode, and confessed that he had put the young
men in safe keeping; and he prayed the king to spare the wards
whom he had made fatherless, and not to think it a piece of
good fortune to be guilty of two unnatural murders. By this
speech he changed the king's cruelty into shame; and he
promised that if they attempted any plots in their own land,
he would give information to the king. Thus he gained safety
for his wards, and lived many years in freedom from terror.
When the boys grew up, they went to Zealand,
and were bidden by their friends to avenge their father. They
vowed that they and their uncle should not both live out the
year. When Ragnar found this out, he went by night to the
palace, prompted by the recollection of his covenant, and
announced that he was come privily to tell the king something
he had promised. But the king was asleep, and he would not
suffer them to wake him up, because Frode had been used to
punish any disturbance of his rest with the sword. So mighty a
matter was it thought of old to break the slumbers of a king
by untimely intrusion. Frode heard this from the sentries in
the morning; and when he perceived that Ragnar had come to
tell him of the treachery, he gathered together his soldiers,
and resolved to forestall deceit by ruthless measures.
Harald's sons had no help for it but to feign madness. For
when they found themselves suddenly attacked, they began to
behave like maniacs, as if they were distraught. And when
Frode thought that they were possessed, he gave up his
purpose, thinking it shameful to attack with the sword those
who seemed to be turning the sword against themselves. But he
was burned to death by them on the following night, and was
punished as befitted a fratricide. For they attacked the
palace, and first crushing the queen with a mass of stones and
then, having set fire to the house, they forced Frode to crawl
into a narrow cave that had been cut out long before, and into
the dark recesses of tunnels. Here he lurked in hiding and
perished, stifled by the reek and smoke.
After Frode was killed, HALFDAN reigned over
his country about three years, and then, handing over his
sovereignty to his brother Harald as deputy, went roving, and
attacked and ravaged Oland and the neighbouring isles, which
are severed from contact with Sweden by a winding sound. Here
in the winter he beached and entrenched his ships, and spent
three years on the expedition. After this he attacked Sweden,
and destroyed its king in the field. Afterwards he prepared to
meet the king's grandson Erik, the son of his own uncle Frode,
in battle; and when he heard that Erik's champion, Hakon, was
skillful in blunting swords with his spells, he fashioned, to
use for clubbing, a huge mace studded with iron knobs, as if
he would prevail by the strength of wood over the power of
sorcery. Then -- for he was conspicuous beyond all others for
his bravery -- amid the hottest charges of the enemy, he
covered his head with his helmet, and, without a shield,
poised his club, and with the help of both hands whirled it
against the bulwark of shields before him. No obstacle was so
stout but it was crushed to pieces by the blow of the mass
that smote it. Thus he overthrew the champion, who ran against
him in the battle, with a violent stroke of his weapon. But he
was conquered notwithstanding, and fled away into Helsingland,
where he went to one Witolf (who had served of old with
Harald), to seek tendance for his wounds. This man had spent
most of his life in camp; but at last, after the grievous end
of his general, he had retreated into this lonely district,
where he lived the life of a peasant, and rested from the
pursuits of war. Often struck himself by the missiles of the
enemy, he had gained no slight skill in leechcraft by
constantly tending his own wounds. But if anyone came with
flatteries to seek his aid, instead of curing him he was
accustomed to give him something that would secretly injure
him, thinking it somewhat nobler to threaten than to wheedle
for benefits. When the soldiers of Erik menaced his house, in
their desire to take Halfdan, he so robbed them of the power
of sight that they could neither perceive the house nor trace
it with certainty, though it was close to them. So utterly had
their eyesight been dulled by a decisive mist.
When Halfdan had by this man's help regained
his full strength, he summoned Thore, a champion of notable
capacity, and proclaimed war against Erik. But when the forces
were led out on the other side, and he saw that Erik was
superior in numbers, he hid a part of his army, and instructed
it to lie in ambush among the bushes by the wayside, in order
to destroy the enemy by an ambuscade as he marched through the
narrow part of the path. Erik foresaw this, having
reconnoitred his means of advancing, and thought he must
withdraw for fear, if he advanced along the track he had
intended, of being hard-pressed by the tricks of the enemy
among the steep windings of the hills. They therefore joined
battle, force against force, in a deep valley, inclosed all
round by lofty mountain ridges. Here Halfdan, when he saw the
line of his men wavering, climbed with Thore up a crag covered
with stones and, uprooting boulders, rolled them down upon the
enemy below; and the weight of these as they fell crushed the
line that was drawn up in the lower position. Thus he regained
with stones the victory which he had lost with arms. For this
deed of prowess he received the name of Biargramm ("rock
strong"), a word which seems to have been compounded from the
name of his fierceness and of the mountains. He soon gained so
much esteem for this among the Swedes that he was thought to
be the son of the great Thor, and the people bestowed divine
honours upon him, and judged him worthy of public libation.
But the souls of the conquered find it hard to
rest, and the insolence of the beaten ever struggles towards
the forbidden thing. So it came to pass that Erik, in his
desire to repair the losses incurred in flight, attacked the
districts subject to Halfdan. Even Denmark he did not exempt
from this harsh treatment; for he thought it a most worthy
deed to assail the country of the man who had caused him to be
driven from his own. And so, being more anxious to inflict
injury than to repel it, he set Sweden free from the arms of
the enemy. When Halfdan heard that his brother Harald had been
beaten by Erik in three battles, and slain in the fourth, he
was afraid of losing his empire; he had to quit the land of
the Swedes and go back to his own country. Thus Erik regained
the kingdom of Sweden all the more quickly, that he quitted it
so lightly. Had fortune wished to favour him in keeping his
kingdom as much as she had in regaining it, she would in
nowise have given him into the hand of Halfdan. This capture
was made in the following way: When Halfdan had gone back into
Sweden, he hid his fleet craftily, and went to meet Erik with
two vessels. Erik attacked him with ten; and Halfdan, sailing
through sundry winding channels, stole back to his concealed
forces. Erik pursued him too far, and the Danish fleet came
out on the sea. Thus Erik was surrounded; but he rejected the
life, which was offered him under condition of thraldom. He
could not bear to think more of the light of day than liberty,
and chose to die rather than serve; lest he should seem to
love life so well as to turn from a slave into a freeman; and
that he might not court with new-born obeisance the man whom
fortune had just before made only his equal. So little knows
virtue how to buy life with dishonour. Wherefore he was put in
chains, and banished to a place haunted by wild beasts; an end
unworthy of that lofty spirit.
Halfdan had thus become sovereign of both
kingdoms, and graced his fame with a triple degree of honour.
For he was skillful and eloquent in composing poems in the
fashion of his country; and he was no less notable as a
valorous champion than as a powerful king. But when he heard
that two active rovers, Toke and Anund, were threatening the
surrounding districts, he attacked and routed them in a
sea-fight. For the ancients thought that nothing was more
desirable than glory which was gained, not by brilliancy of
wealth, but by address in arms. Accordingly, the most famous
men of old were so minded as to love seditions, to renew
quarrels, to loathe ease, to prefer fighting to peace, to be
rated by their valour and not by their wealth, to find their
greatest delight in battles, and their least in banquetings.
But Halfdan was not long to seek for a rival. A
certain Siwald, of most illustrious birth, related with
lamentation in the assembly of the Swedes the death of Frode
and his queen; and inspired in almost all of them such a
hatred of Halfdan, that the vote of the majority granted him
permission to revolt. Nor was he content with the mere
goodwill of their voices, but so won the heart of the commons
by his crafty canvassing that he induced almost all of them to
set with their hands the royal emblem on his head. Siwald had
seven sons, who were such clever sorcerers that often,
inspired with the force of sudden frenzy, they would roar
savagely, bite their shields, swallow hot coals, and go
through any fire that could be piled up; and their frantic
passion could only be checked by the rigour of chains, or
propitiated by slaughter of men. With such a frenzy did their
own sanguinary temper, or else the fury of demons, inspire
them.
When Halfdan had heard of these things while
busy roving, he said it was right that his soldiers, who had
hitherto spent their rage upon foreigners, should now smite
with the steel the flesh of their own countrymen, and that
they who had been used to labour to extend their realm should
now avenge its wrongful seizure. On Halfdan approaching,
Siwald sent him ambassadors and requested him, if he was as
great in act as in renown, to meet himself and his sons in
single combat, and save the general peril by his own. When the
other answered, that a combat could not lawfully be fought by
more than two men, Siwald said, that it was no wonder that a
childless bachelor should refuse the proffered conflict, since
his nature was void of heat, and had struck a disgraceful
frost into his soul and body. Children, he added, were not
different from the man who begot them, since they drew from
him their common principle of birth. Thus he and his sons were
to be accounted as one person, for nature seemed in a manner
to have bestowed on them a single body. Halfdan, stung with
this shameful affront, accepted the challenge; meaning to wipe
out with noble deeds of valour such an insulting taunt upon
his celibacy. And while he chanced to be walking through a
shady woodland, he plucked up by the roots all oak that stuck
in his path, and, by simply stripping it of its branches, made
it look like a stout club. Having this trusty weapon, he
composed a short song as follows:
"Behold! The rough burden which I bear with
straining crest, shall unto crests bring wounds and
destruction. Never shall any weapon of leafy wood crush the
Goths with direr augury. It shall shatter the towering
strength of the knotty neck, and shall bruise the hollow
temples with the mass of timber. The club which shall quell
the wild madness of the land shall be no less fatal to the
Swedes. Breaking bones, and brandished about the mangled limbs
of warriors, the stock I have wrenched off shall crush the
backs of the wicked, crush the hearths of our kindred, shed
the blood of our countrymen, and be a destructive pest upon
our land."
When he had said this, he attacked Siwald and
his seven sons, and destroyed them, their force and bravery
being useless against the enormous mass of his club.
At this time one Hardbeen, who came from
Helsingland, gloried in kidnapping and ravishing princesses,
and used to kill any man who hindered him in his lusts. He
preferred high matches to those that were lowly; and the more
illustrious the victims he could violate, the more noble he
thought himself. No man escaped unpunished who durst measure
himself with Hardbeen in valour. He was so huge, that his
stature reached the measure of nine ells. He had twelve
champions dwelling with him, whose business it was to rise up
and to restrain his fury with the aid of bonds, whenever the
rage came on him that foreboded of battle. These men asked
Halfdan to attack Hardbeen and his champions man by man; and
he not only promised to fight, but assured himself the victory
with most confident words. When Hardbeen heard this, a
demoniacal frenzy suddenly took him; he furiously bit and
devoured the edges of his shield; he kept gulping down fiery
coals; he snatched live embers in his mouth and let them pass
down into his entrails; he rushed through the perils of
crackling fires; and at last, when he had raved through every
sort of madness, he turned his sword with raging hand against
the hearts of six of his champions. It is doubtful whether
this madness came from thirst for battle or natural ferocity.
Then with the remaining band of his champions he attacked
Halfdan, who crushed him with a hammer of wondrous size, so
that he lost both victory and life; paying the penalty both to
Halfdan, whom he had challenged, and to the kings whose
offspring he had violently ravished.
Fortune never seemed satisfied with the trying
of Halfdan's strength, and used to offer him unexpected
occasions for fighting. It so happened that Egther, a
Finlander, was harrying the Swedes on a roving raid. Halfdan,
having found that he had three ships, attacked him with the
same number. Night closed the battle, so that he could not
conquer him; but he challenged Egther next day, fought with
and overthrew him. He next heard that Grim, a champion of
immense strength, was suing, under threats of a duel, for
Thorhild, the daughter of the chief Hather, and that her
father had proclaimed that he who put the champion out of the
way should have her. Halfdan, though he had reached old age a
bachelor, was stirred by the promise of the chief as much as
by the insolence of the champion, and went to Norway. When he
entered it, he blotted out every mark by which he could be
recognized, disguising his face with splashes of dirt; and
when he came to the spot of the battle, drew his sword first.
And when he knew that it had been blunted by the glance of the
enemy, he cast it on the ground, drew another from the sheath,
with which he attacked Grim, cutting through the meshes on the
edge of his cuirass, as well as the lower part of his shield.
Grim wondered at the deed, and said, "I cannot remember an old
man who fought more keenly;" and, instantly drawing his sword,
he pierced through and shattered the target that was opposed
to his blade. But as his right arm tarried on the stroke,
Halfdan, without wavering, met and smote it swiftly with his
sword. The other, notwithstanding, clasped his sword with his
left hand, and cut through the thigh of the striker, revenging
the mangling of his own body with a slight wound. Halfdan, now
conqueror, allowed the conquered man to ransom the remnant of
his life with a sum of money; he would not be thought
shamefully to rob a maimed man, who could not fight, of the
pitiful remainder of his days. By this deed he showed himself
almost as great in saving as in conquering his enemy. As a
prize for this victory he won Thorhild in marriage, and had by
her a son Asmund, from whom the kings of Norway treasure the
honour of being descended; retracing the regular succession of
their line down from Halfdan.
After this, Ebbe, a rover of common birth, was
so confident of his valour, that he was moved to aspire to a
splendid marriage. He was a suitor for Sigrid, the daughter of
Yngwin, King of the Goths, and moreover demanded half the
Gothic kingdom for her dowry. Halfdan was consulted whether
the match should be entertained, and advised that a feigned
consent should be given, promising that he would baulk the
marriage. He also gave instructions that a seat should be
allotted to himself among the places of the guests at table.
Yngwin approved the advice; and Halfdan, utterly defacing the
dignity of his royal presence with an unsightly and alien
disguise, and coming by night on the wedding feast, alarmed
those who met him; for they marvelled at the coming of a man
of such superhuman stature.
When Halfdan entered the palace, he looked
round on all and asked, who was he that had taken the place
next to the king? Upon Ebbe replying that the future
son-in-law of the king was next to his side, Halfdan asked
him, in the most passionate language, what madness, or what
demons, had brought him to such wantonness, as to make bold to
unite his contemptible and filthy race with a splendid and
illustrious line, or to dare to lay his peasant finger upon
the royal family: and, not content even with such a claim, to
aspire, as it seemed, to a share even in the kingdom of
another. Then he bade Ebbe fight him, saying that he must get
the victory before he got his wish. The other answered that
the night was the time to fight with monsters, but the day the
time with men; but Halfdan, to prevent him shirking the battle
by pleading the hour, declared that the moon was shining with
the brightness of daylight. Thus he forced Ebbe to fight, and
felled him, turning the banquet into a spectacle, and the
wedding into a funeral.
Some years passed, and Halfdan went back to his
own country, and being childless he bequeathed the royal
wealth by will to Yngwin, and appointed him king. YNGWIN was
afterwards overthrown in war by a rival named Ragnald, and he
left a son SIWALD.
Siwald's daughter, Sigrid, was of such
excellent modesty, that though a great concourse of suitors
wooed her for her beauty, it seemed as if she could not be
brought to look at one of them. Confident in this power of
self-restraint, she asked her father for a husband who by the
sweetness of his blandishments should be able to get a look
back from her. For in old time among us the self-restraint of
the maidens was a great subduer of wanton looks, lest the
soundness of the soul should be infected by the licence of the
eyes; and women desired to avouch the purity of their hearts
by the modesty of their faces. Then one Ottar, the son of Ebb,
kindled with confidence in the greatness either of his own
achievements, or of his courtesy and eloquent address,
stubbornly and ardently desired to woo the maiden. And though
he strove with all the force of his wit to soften her gaze, no
device whatever could move her downcast eyes; and, marvelling
at her persistence in her indomitable rigour, he departed.
A giant desired the same thing, but, finding
himself equally foiled, he suborned a woman; and she,
pretending friendship for the girl, served her for a while as
her handmaid, and at last enticed her far from her father's
house, by cunningly going out of the way; then the giant
rushed upon her and bore her off into the closest fastnesses
of a ledge on the mountain. Others think that he disguised
himself as a woman, treacherously continued his devices so as
to draw the girl away from her own house, and in the end
carried her off. When Ottar heard of this, he ransacked the
recesses of the mountain in search of the maiden, found her,
slew the giant, and bore her off. But the assiduous giant had
bound back the locks of the maiden, tightly twisting her hair
in such a way that the matted mass of tresses was held in a
kind of curled bundle; nor was it easy for anyone to unravel
their plaited tangle, without using the steel. Again, he tried
with divers allurements to provoke the maiden to look at him;
and when he had long laid vain siege to her listless eyes, he
abandoned his quest, since his purpose turned out so little to
his liking. But he could not bring himself to violate the
girl, loth to defile with ignoble intercourse one of
illustrious birth. She then wandered long, and sped through
divers desert and circuitous paths, and happened to come to
the hut of a certain huge woman of the woods, who set her to
the task of pasturing her goats. Again Ottar granted her his
aid to set her free, and again he tried to move her,
addressing her in this fashion: "Wouldst thou rather hearken
to my counsels, and embrace me even as I desire, than be here
and tend the flock of rank goats?
"Spurn the hand of thy wicked mistress, and
flee hastily from thy cruel taskmistress, that thou mayst go
back with me to the ships of thy friends and live in freedom.
"Quit the care of the sheep entrusted to thee;
scorn to drive the steps of the goats; share my bed, and fitly
reward my prayers.
"O thou whom I have sought with such pains,
turn again thy listless beams; for a little while -- it is an
easy gesture -- lift thy modest face.
"I will take thee hence, and set thee by the
house of thy father, and unite thee joyfully with thy loving
mother, if but once thou wilt show me thine eyes stirred with
soft desires.
"Thou, whom I have borne so oft from the
prisons of the giants, pay thou some due favour to my toil of
old; pity my hard endeavours, and be stern no more.
"For why art thou become so distraught and
brainsick, that thou wilt choose to tend the flock of another,
and be counted among the servants of monsters, sooner than
encourage our marriage- troth with fitting and equal consent?"
But she, that she might not suffer the
constancy of her chaste mind to falter by looking at the world
without, restrained her gaze, keeping her lids immovably
rigid. How modest, then, must we think, were the women of that
age, when, under the strongest provocations of their lovers,
they could not be brought to make the slightest motion of
their eyes! So when Ottar found that even by the merits of his
double service he could not stir the maiden's gaze towards
him, he went back to the fleet, wearied out with shame and
chagrin. Sigrid, in her old fashion, ran far away over the
rocks, and chanced to stray in her wanderings to the abode of
Ebb; where, ashamed of her nakedness and distress, she
pretended to be a daughter of paupers. The mother of Ottar saw
that this woman, though bestained and faded, and covered with
a meagre cloak, was the scion of some noble stock; and took
her, and with honourable courtesy kept her by her side in a
distinguished seat. For the beauty of the maiden was a sign
that betrayed her birth, and her telltale features echoed her
lineage. Ottar saw her, and asked why she hid her face in her
robe. Also, in order to test her mind more surely, he feigned
that a woman was about to become his wife, and, as he went up
into the bride- bed, gave Sigrid the torch to hold. The lights
had almost burnt down, and she was hard put to it by the flame
coming closer; but she showed such an example of endurance
that she was seen to hold her hand motionless, and might have
been thought to feel no annoyance from the heat. For the fire
within mastered the fire without, and the glow of her longing
soul deadened the burn of her scorched skin. At last Ottar
bade her look to her hand. Then, modestly lifting her eyes,
she turned her calm gaze upon him; and straightway, the
pretended marriage being put away, went up unto the bride-bed
to be his wife. Siwald afterwards seized Ottar, and thought
that he ought to be hanged for defiling his daughter.
But Sigrid at once explained how she had
happened to be carried away, and not only brought Ottar back
into the king's favour, but also induced her father himself to
marry Ottar's sister. After this a battle was fought between
Siwald and Ragnald in Zealand, warriors of picked valour being
chosen on both sides. For three days they slaughtered one
another; but so great was the bravery of both sides, that it
was doubtful how the victory would go. Then Ottar, whether
seized with weariness at the prolonged battle, or with desire
of glory, broke, despising death, through the thickest of the
foe, cut down Ragnald among the bravest of his soldiers, and
won the Danes a sudden victory. This battle was notable for
the cowardice of the greatest nobles. For the whole mass fell
into such a panic, that forty of the bravest of the Swedes are
said to have turned and fled. The chief of these, Starkad, had
been used to tremble at no fortune, however cruel, and no
danger, however great. But some strange terror stole upon him,
and he chose to follow the flight of his friends rather than
to despise it. I should think that he was filled with this
alarm by the power of heaven, that he might not think himself
courageous beyond the measure of human valour. Thus the
prosperity of mankind is wont ever to be incomplete. Then all
these warriors embraced the service of King Hakon, the
mightiest of the rovers, like remnants of the war drifting to
him.
After this Siwald was succeeded by his son
SIGAR, who had sons Siwald, Alf, and Alger, and a daughter
Signe. All excelled the rest in spirit and beauty, and devoted
himself to the business of a rover. Such a grace was shed on
his hair, which had a wonderful dazzling glow, that his locks
seemed to shine silvery. At the same time Siward, the king of
the Goths, is said to have had two sons, Wemund and Osten, and
a daughter Alfhild, who showed almost from her cradle such
faithfulness to modesty that she continually kept her face
muffled in her robe, lest she should cause her beauty to
provoke the passion of another. Her father banished her into
very close keeping, and gave her a viper and a snake to rear,
wishing to defend her chastity by the protection of these
reptiles when they came to grow up. For it would have been
hard to pry into her chamber when it was barred by so
dangerous a bolt. He also enacted that if any man tried to
enter it, and failed, he must straightway yield his head to be
taken off and impaled on a stake. The terror which was thus
attached to wantonness chastened the heated spirits of the
young men.
Alf, the son of Sigar, thinking that peril of
the attempt only made it nobler, declared himself a wooer, and
went to subdue the beasts that kept watch beside the room of
the maiden; inasmuch as, according to the decree, the embraces
of the maiden were the prize of their subduer. Alf covered his
body with a blood- stained hide in order to make them more
frantic against him. Girt with this, as soon as he had entered
the doors of the enclosure, he took a piece of red-hot steel
in the tongs, and plunged it into the yawning throat of the
viper, which he laid dead. Then he flung his spear full into
the gaping mouth of the snake as it wound and writhed forward,
and destroyed it. And when he demanded the gage which was
attached to victory by the terms of the covenant, Siward
answered that he would accept that man only for his daughter's
husband of whom she made a free and decided choice. None but
the girl's mother was stiff against the wooer's suit; and she
privately spoke to her daughter in order to search her mind.
The daughter warmly praised her suitor for his valour; whereon
the mother upbraided her sharply, that her chastity should be
unstrung, and she be captivated by charming looks; and
because, forgetting to judge his virtue, she cast the gaze of
a wanton mind upon the flattering lures of beauty. Thus
Alfhild was led to despise the young Dane; whereupon she
exchanged woman's for man's attire, and, no longer the most
modest of maidens, began the life of a warlike rover.
Enrolling in her service many maidens who were
of the same mind, she happened to come to a spot where a band
of rovers were lamenting the death of their captain, who had
been lost in war; they made her their rover captain for her
beauty, and she did deeds beyond the valour of woman. Alf made
many toilsome voyages in pursuit of her, and in winter
happened to come on a fleet of the Blacmen. The waters were at
this time frozen hard, and the ships were caught in such a
mass of ice that they could not get on by the most violent
rowing. But the continued frost promised the prisoners a safer
way of advance; and Alf ordered his men to try the frozen
surface of the sea in their brogues, after they had taken off
their slippery shoes, so that they could run over the level
ice more steadily. The Blacmen supposed that they were taking
to flight with all the nimbleness of their heels, and began to
fight them, but their steps tottered exceedingly and they gave
back, the slippery surface under their soles making their
footing uncertain. But the Danes crossed the frozen sea with
safer steps, and foiled the feeble advance of the enemy, whom
they conquered, and then turned and sailed to Finland. Here
they chanced to enter a rather narrow gulf, and, on sending a
few men to reconnoitre, they learnt that the harbour was being
held by a few ships. For Alfhild had gone before them with her
fleet into the same narrows. And when she saw the strange
ships afar off, she rowed in swift haste forward to encounter
them, thinking it better to attack the foe than to await them.
Alf's men were against attacking so many ships with so few;
but he replied that it would be shameful if anyone should
report to Alfhild that his desire to advance could be checked
by a few ships in the path; for he said that their record of
honours ought not to be tarnished by such a trifle.
The Danes wondered whence their enemies got
such grace of bodily beauty and such supple limbs. So, when
they began the sea-fight, the young man Alf leapt on Alfhild's
prow, and advanced towards the stern, slaughtering all that
withstood him. His comrade Borgar struck off Alfhild's helmet,
and, seeing the smoothness of her chin, saw that he must fight
with kisses and not with arms; that the cruel spears must be
put away, and the enemy handled with gentler dealings. So Alf
rejoiced that the woman whom he had sought over land and sea
in the face of so many dangers was now beyond all expectation
in his power; whereupon he took hold of her eagerly, and made
her change her man's apparel for a woman's; and afterwards
begot on her a daughter, Gurid. Also Borgar wedded the
attendant of Alfhild, Groa, and had by her a son, Harald, to
whom the following age gave the surname Hyldeland.
And that no one may wonder that this sex
laboured at warfare, I will make a brief digression, in order
to give a short account of the estate and character of such
women. There were once women among the Danes who dressed
themselves to look like men, and devoted almost every instant
of their lives to the pursuit of war, that they might not
suffer their valour to be unstrung or dulled by the infection
of luxury. For they abhorred all dainty living, and used to
harden their minds and bodies with toil and endurance. They
put away all the softness and lightmindedness of women, and
inured their womanish spirit to masculine ruthlessness. They
sought, moreover, so zealously to be skilled in warfare, that
they might have been thought to have unsexed themselves. Those
especially, who had either force of character or tall and
comely persons, used to enter on this kind of life. These
women, therefore (just as if they had forgotten their natural
estate, and preferred sternness to soft words), offered war
rather than kisses, and would rather taste blood than busses,
and went about the business of arms more than that of amours.
They devoted those hands to the lance which they should rather
have applied to the loom. They assailed men with their spears
whom they could have melted with their looks, they thought of
death and not of dalliance. Now I will cease to wander, and
will go back to my theme.
In the early spring, Alf and Alger, who had
gone back to sea- roving, were exploring the sea in various
directions, when they lighted with a hundred ships upon
Helwin, Hagbard, and Hamund, sons of the kinglet Hamund. These
they attacked and only the twilight stayed their blood-wearied
hands; and in the night the soldiers were ordered to keep
truce. On the morrow this was ratified for good by a mutual
oath; for such loss had been suffered on both sides in the
battle of the day before that they had no force left to fight
again. Thus, exhausted bye quality of valour, they were driven
perforce to make peace. About the same time Hildigisl, a
Teuton Of noble birth, relying on his looks and his rank, sued
for Signe, the daughter of Sigar. But she scorned him, chiefly
for his insignificance, inasmuch as he was not brave, but
wished to adorn his fortunes with the courage of other people.
But this woman was inclined to love Hakon, chiefly for the
high renown of his great deeds. For she thought more of the
brave than the feeble; she admired notable deeds more than
looks, knowing that every allurement of beauty is mere dross
when reckoned against simple valour, and cannot weigh equal
with it in the balance. For there are maids that are more
charmed by the fame than by the face of their lovers; who go
not by the looks, but by the mind, and whom naught but regard
for a man's spirit can kindle to pledge their own troth. Now
Hagbard, going to Denmark with the sons of Sigar, gained
speech of their sister without their knowledge, and in the end
induced her to pledge her word to him that she would secretly
become his mistress. Afterwards, when the waiting-women
happened to be comparing the honourable deeds of the nobles,
she preferred Hakon to Hildigisl, declaring that the latter
had nothing to praise but his looks, while in the case of the
other a wrinkled visage was outweighed by a choice spirit. Not
content with this plain kind of praise, she is said to have
sung as follows:
"This man lacks fairness, but shines with
foremost courage, measuring his features by his force.
"For the lofty soul redeems the shortcoming of
harsh looks, and conquers the body's blemish.
"His look flashes with spirit, his face,
notable in its very harshness, delights in fierceness.
"He who strictly judges character praises not
the mind for the fair hue, but rather the complexion for the
mind.
"This man is not prized for beauty, but for
brave daring and war- won honour.
"While the other is commended by his comely
head and radiant countenance and crest of lustrous locks.
"Vile is the empty grace of beauty,
self-confounded the deceptive pride of comeliness.
"Valour and looks are swayed by different
inclinations: one lasts on, the other perishes.
"Empty red and white brings in vice, and is
frittered away little by little by the lightly gliding years;
"But courage plants firmer the hearts devoted
to it, and does not slip and straightway fall.
"The voice of the multitude is beguiled by
outward good, and forsakes the rule of right;
"But I praise virtue at a higher rate, and
scorn the grace of comeliness."
This utterance fell on the ears of the
bystanders in such a way, that they thought she praised
Hagbard under the name of Hakon. And Hildigisl, vexed that she
preferred Hagbard to himself, bribed a certain blind man,
Bolwis, to bring the sons of Sigar and the sons of Hamund to
turn their friendship into hatred. For King Sigar had been
used to transact almost all affairs by the advice of two old
men, one of whom was Bolwis. The temper of these two men was
so different, that one used to reconcile folk who were at
feud, while the other loved to sunder in hatred those who were
bound by friendship, and by estranging folk to fan pestilent
quarrels.
So Bolwis began by reviling the sons of Hamund
to the sons of Sigar, in lying slanders, declaring that they
never used to preserve the bonds of fellowship loyally, and
that they must be restrained by war rather than by league.
Thus the alliance of the young men was broken through; and
while Hagbard was far away, the sons of Sigar, Alf and Alger,
made an attack, and Helwin and Hamund were destroyed by the
harbour which is called Hamund's Bay. Hagbard then came up
with fresh forces to avenge his brothers, and destroyed them
in battle. Hildigisl slunk off with a spear through both
buttocks, which was the occasion for a jeer at the Teutons,
since the ugliness of the blow did not fail to brand it with
disgrace.
Afterwards Hagbard dressed himself in woman's
attire, and, as though he had not wronged Sigar's daughter by
slaying her brothers, went back to her alone, trusting in the
promise he had from her, and feeling more safe in her loyalty
than alarmed by reason of his own misdeed. Thus does lust
despise peril. And, not to lack a pretext for his journey, he
gave himself out as a fighting-maid of Hakon, saying that he
took an embassy from him to Sigar. And when he was taken to
bed at night among the handmaids, and the woman who washed his
feet were wiping them, they asked him why he had such hairy
legs, and why his hands were not at all soft to touch, he
answered:
"What wonder that the soft hollow of my foot
should harden, and that long hairs should stay on my shaggy
leg, when the sand has so often smitten my soles beneath, and
the briars have caught me in mid-step?
"Now I scour the forest with leaping, now the
waters with running. Now the sea, now the earth, now the wave
is my path.
"Nor could my breast, shut in bonds of steel,
and wont to be beaten with lance and missile, ever have been
soft to the touch, as with you who are covered by the mantle
or the smooth gown.
"Not the distaff or the wool-frails, but spears
dripping from the slaughter, have served for our handling."
Signe did not hesitate to back up his words
with like dissembling, and replied that it was natural that
hands which dealt more in wounds than wools, and in battle
than in tasks of the house should show the hardness that
befitted their service; and that, unenfeebled with the pliable
softness of women, they should not feel smooth to the touch of
others. For they were hardened partly by the toils of war,
partly by the habit of seafaring. For, said she, the warlike
handmaid of Hakon did not deal in woman's business, but had
been wont to bring her right hand blood-stained with hurling
spears and flinging missiles. It was no wonder, therefore, if
her soles were hardened by the immense journeys she had gone;
and that, when the shores she had scoured so often had bruised
them with their rough and broken shingle, they should toughen
in a horny stiffness, and should not feel soft to the touch
like theirs, whose steps never strayed, but who were forever
cooped within the confines of the palace. Hagbard received her
as his bedfellow, under plea that he was to have the couch of
honour; and, amid their converse of mutual delight, he
addressed her slowly in such words as these:
"If thy father takes me and gives me to bitter
death, wilt thou ever, when I am dead, forget so strong a
troth, and again seek the marriage-plight?
"For if the chance should fall that way, I can
hope for no room for pardon; nor will the father who is to
avenge his sons spare or have pity.
"For I stripped thy brothers of their power on
the sea and slew them; and now, unknown to thy father, as
though I had done naught before counter to his will, I hold
thee in the couch we share.
"Say, then, my one love, what manner of wish
wilt thou show when thou lackest the accustomed embrace?"
Signe answered:
"Trust me, dear; I wish to die with thee, if
fate brings thy turn to perish first, and not to prolong my
span of life at all, when once dismal death has cast thee to
the tomb.
"For if thou chance to close thy eyes for ever,
a victim to the maddened attack of the men-at-arms; -- by
whatsoever doom thy breath be cut off, by sword or disease, by
sea or soil, I forswear every wanton and corrupt flame, and
vow myself to a death like thine; that they who were bound by
one marriage-union may be embraced in one and the same
punishment. Nor will I quit this man, though I am to feel the
pains of death; I have resolved he is worthy of my love who
gathered the first kisses of my mouth, and had the first
fruits of my delicate youth. I think that no vow will be surer
than this, if speech of woman have any loyalty at all."
This speech so quickened the spirit of Hagbard,
that he found more pleasure in her promise than peril in his
own going away (to his death). The serving-women betrayed him;
and when Sigar's men-at-arms attacked him, he defended himself
long and stubbornly, and slew many of them in the doorway. But
at last he was taken, and brought before the assembly, and
found the voices of the people divided over him. For very many
said that he should be punished for so great an offence; but
Bilwis, the brother of Bolwis, and others, conceived a better
judgment, and advised that it would be better to use his stout
service than to deal with him too ruthlessly. Then Bolwis came
forward and declared that it was evil advice which urged the
king to pardon when he ought to take vengeance, and to soften
with unworthy compassion his righteous impulse to anger. For
how could Sigar, in the case of this man, feel any desire to
spare or pity him, when he had not only robbed him of the
double comfort of his sons, but had also bestained him with
the insult of deflowering his daughter? The greater part of
the assembly voted for this opinion; Hagbard was condemned,
and a gallows-tree planted to receive him. Hence it came about
that he who at first had hardly one sinister voice against him
was punished with general harshness. Soon after the queen
handed him a cup, and, bidding him assuage his thirst, vexed
him with threats after this manner:
"Now, insolent Hagbard, whom the whole assembly
has pronounced worthy of death, now to quench thy thirst thou
shalt give thy lips liquor to drink in a cup of horn.
"Wherefore cast away fear, and, at this last
hour of thy life, taste with bold lips the deadly goblet;
"That, having drunk it, thou mayst presently
land by the dwellings of those below, passing into the
sequestered palace of stern Dis, giving thy body to the gibbet
and thy spirit to Orcus."
Then the young man took the cup offered him,
and is said to have made answer as follows:
"With this hand, wherewith I cut off thy twin
sons, I will take my last taste, yea the draught of the last
drink.
"Now not unavenged shall I go to the Elysian
regions, not unchastising to the stern ghosts. For these men
have first been shut in the dens of Tartarus by a slaughter
wrought by my endeavours. This right hand was wet with blood
that was yours, this hand robbed thy children of the years of
their youth, children whom thy womb brought to light; but the
deadly sword spared it not then. Infamous woman, raving in
spirit, hapless, childless mother, no years shall restore to
thee the lost, no time and no day whatsoever shall save thy
child from the starkness of death, or redeem him!"
Thus he avenged the queen's threats of death by
taunting her with the youths whom he had slain; and, flinging
back the cup at her, drenched her face with the sprinkled
wine.
Meantime Signe asked her weeping women whether
they could endure to bear her company in the things which she
purposed. They promised that they would carry out and perform
themselves whatsoever their mistress should come to wish, and
their promise was loyally kept. Then, drowned in tears, she
said that she wished to follow in death the only partner of
her bed that she had ever had; and ordered that, as soon as
the signal had been given from a place of watch, torches
should be put to the room, then that halters should be made
out of their robes; and to these they should proffer their
throats to be strangled, thrusting away the support to the
feet. They agreed, and that they might blench the less at
death, she gave them a draught of wine. After this Hagbard was
led to the hill, which afterwards took its name from him, to
be hanged. Then, to test the loyalty of his true love, he told
the executioners to hang up his mantle, saying that it would
be a pleasure to him if he could see the likeness of his
approaching death rehearsed in some way. The request was
granted; and the watcher on the outlook, thinking that the
thing was being done to Hagbard, reported what she saw to the
maidens who were shut within the palace. They quickly fired
the house, and thrusting away the wooden support under their
feet, gave their necks to the noose to be writhen. So Hagbard,
when he saw the palace wrapped in fire, and the familiar
chamber blazing, said that he felt more joy from the loyalty
of his mistress than sorrow at his approaching death. He also
charged the bystanders to do him to death, witnessing how
little he made of his doom by a song like this:
"Swiftly, O warriors! Let me be caught and
lifted into the air. Sweet, O my bride! Is it for me to die
when thou hast gone.
"I perceive the crackling and the house ruddy
with flames; and the love, long-promised, declares our troth.
"Behold, thy covenant is fulfilled with no
doubtful vows, since thou sharest my life and my destruction.
"We shall have one end, one bond after our
troth, and somewhere our first love will live on.
"Happy am I, that have deserved to have joy of
such a consort, and not to go basely alone to the gods of
Tartarus!
"Then let the knot gripe the midst of the
throat; nought but pleasure the last doom shall bring,
"Since there remains a sure hope of the renewal
of love, and a death which will soon have joys of its own.
"Either country is sweet; in both worlds shall
be held in honour the repose of our souls together, our equal
truth in love,
"For, see now, I welcome the doom before me;
since not even among the shades does very love suffer the
embrace of its partner to perish." And as he spoke the
executioners strangled him. And, that none may think that all
traces of antiquity have utterly disappeared, a proof of the
aforesaid event is afforded by local marks yet existing; for
the killing of Hagbard gave his name to the stead; and not far
from the town of Sigar there is a place to be seen, where a
mound a little above the level, with the appearance of a
swelling in the ground, looks like an ancient homestead.
Moreover, a man told Absalon that he had seen a beam found in
the spot, which a countryman struck with his ploughshare as he
burrowed into the clods.
Hakon, the son of Hamund, heard of this; but
when he was seen to be on the point of turning his arms from
the Irish against the Danes in order to avenge his brother,
Hakon the Zealander, the son of Wigar, and Starkad deserted
him. They had been his allies from the death of Ragnald up to
that hour: one, because he was moved by regard for friendship,
the other by regard for his birth; so that different reasons
made both desire the same thing.
Now patriotism diverted Hakon (of Zealand) from
attacking his country; for it was apparent that he was going
to fight his own people, while all the rest warred with
foreigners. But Starkad forbore to become the foe of the aged
Sigar, whose hospitality he had enjoyed, lest he should be
thought to wrong one who deserved well of him. For some men
pay such respect to hospitality that, if they can remember
ever to have experienced kindly offices from folk, they cannot
be thought to inflict any annoyance on them. But Hakon thought
the death of his brother a worse loss than the defection of
his champions; and, gathering his fleet into the haven called
Herwig in Danish, and in Latin Hosts' Bight, he drew up his
men, and posted his line of foot-soldiers in the spot where
the town built by Esbern now defends with its fortifications
those who dwell hard by, and repels the approach of barbarous
savages. Then he divided his forces in three, and sent on
two-thirds of his ships, appointing a few men to row to the
river Susa. This force was to advance on a dangerous voyage
along its winding reaches, and to help those on foot if
necessary. He marched in person by land with the remainder,
advancing chiefly over wooded country to escape notice. Part
of this path, which was once closed up with thick woods, is
now land ready for the plough, and fringed with a scanty
scrub. And, in order that when they got out into the plain
they might not lack the shelter of trees, he told them to cut
and carry branches. Also, that nothing might burden their
rapid march, he bade them cast away some of their clothes, as
well as their scabbards; and carry their swords naked. In
memory of this event he left the mountain and the ford a
perpetual name. Thus by his night march he eluded two pickets
of sentries; but when he came upon the third, a scout,
observing the marvellous event, went to the sleeping-room of
Sigar, saying that he brought news of a portentous thing; for
he saw leaves and shrubs like men walking. Then the king asked
him how far off was the advancing forest; and when he heard
that it was near, he added that this prodigy boded his own
death. Hence the marsh where the shrubs were cut down was
styled in common parlance Deadly Marsh. Therefore, fearing the
narrow passages, he left the town, and went to a level spot
which was more open, there to meet the enemy in battle. Sigar
fought unsuccessfully, and was crushed and slain at the spot
that is called in common speech Walbrunna, but in Latin the
Spring of Corpses or Carnage. Then Hakon used his conquest to
cruel purpose, and followed up his good fortune so wickedly,
that he lusted for an indiscriminate massacre, and thought no
forbearance should be shown to rank or sex. Nor did he yield
to any regard for compassion or shame, but stained his sword
in the blood of women, and attacked mothers and children in
one general and ruthless slaughter.
SIWALD, the son of Sigar, had thus far stayed
under his father's roof. But when he heard of this, he
mustered an army in order to have his vengeance. So Hakon,
alarmed at the gathering of such numbers, went back with a
third of his army to his fleet at Herwig, and planned to
depart by sea. But his colleague, Hakon, surnamed the Proud,
thought that he ought himself to feel more confidence at the
late victory than fear at the absence of Hakon; and,
preferring death to flight, tried to defend the remainder of
the army. So he drew back his camp for a little, and for a
long time waited near the town of Axelsted, for the arrival of
the fleet, blaming his friends for their tardy coming. For the
fleet that had been sent into the river had not yet come to
anchor in the appointed harbour. Now the killing of Sigar and
the love of Siwald were stirring the temper of the people one
and all, so that both sexes devoted themselves to war, and you
would have thought that the battle did not lack the aid of
women.
On the morrow Hakon and Siwald met in an
encounter and fought two whole days. The combat was most
frightful; both generals fell; and victory graced the remnants
of the Danes. But, in the night after the battle, the fleet,
having penetrated the Susa, reached the appointed haven. It
was once possible to row along this river; but its bed is now
choked with solid substances, and is so narrowed by its
straits that few vessels can get in, being prevented by its
sluggishness and contractedness. At daybreak, when the sailors
saw the corpses of their friends, they heaped up, in order to
bury the general, a barrow of notable size, which is famous to
this day, and is commonly named Hakon's Howe.
But Borgar, with Skanian chivalry suddenly came
up and slaughtered a multitude of them. When the enemy were
destroyed, he manned their ships, which now lacked their
rowers, and hastily, with breathless speed, pursued the son of
Hamund. He encountered him, and ill-fortune befell Hakon, who
fled in hasty panic with three ships to the country of the
Scots, where, after two years had gone by, he died.
All these perilous wars and fortunes had so
exhausted the royal line among the Danes, that it was found to
be reduced to GURID alone, the daughter of Alf, and
granddaughter of Sigar. And when the Danes saw themselves
deprived of their usual high-born sovereigns, they committed
the kingdom to men of the people, and appointed rulers out of
the commons, assigning to Ostmar the regency of Skaane, and
that of Zealand to Hunding; on Hane they conferred the
lordship of Funen; while in the hands of Rorik and Hather they
put the supreme power of Jutland, the authority being divided.
Therefore, that it may not be unknown from what father sprang
the succeeding line of kings, some matters come to my mind
which must be glanced at for a while in a needful digression.
They say that Gunnar, the bravest of the
Swedes, was once at feud with Norway for the most weighty
reasons, and that he was granted liberty to attack it, but
that he turned this liberty into licence by the greatest
perils, and fell, in the first of the raids he planned, upon
the district of Jather, which he put partly to the sword and
partly to the flames. Forbearing to plunder, he rejoiced only
in passing through the paths that were covered with corpses,
and the blood-stained ways. Other men used to abstain from
bloodshed, and love pillage more than slaughter; but he
preferred bloodthirstiness to booty, and liked best to wreak
his deadly pleasure by slaughtering men. His cruelty drove the
islanders to forestall the impending danger by a public
submission. Moreover, Ragnald, the King of the Northmen, now
in extreme age, when he heard how the tyrant busied himself,
had a cave made and shut up in it his daughter Drota, giving
her due attendance, and providing her maintenance for a long
time. Also he committed to the cave some swords which had been
adorned with the choicest smith-craft, besides the royal
household gear; so that he might not leave the enemy to
capture and use the sword, which he saw that he could not
wield himself. And, to prevent the cave being noticed by its
height, he levelled the hump down to the firmer ground. Then
he set out to war; but being unable with his aged limbs to go
down into battle, he leaned on the shoulders of his escort and
walked forth propped by the steps of others. So he perished in
the battle, where he fought with more ardour than success, and
left his country a sore matter for shame.
For Gunnar, in order to punish the cowardice of
the conquered race by terms of extraordinary baseness, had a
dog set over them as a governor. What can we suppose to have
been his object in this action, unless it were to make a
haughty nation feel that their arrogance was being more
signally punished when they bowed their stubborn heads before
a yapping hound? To let no insult be lacking, he appointed
governors to look after public and private affairs in its
name; and he appointed separate ranks of nobles to keep
continual and steadfast watch over it. He also enacted that if
any one of the courtiers thought it contemptible to do
allegiance to their chief, and omitted offering most
respectful homage to its various goings and comings as it ran
hither and thither, he should be punished with loss of his
limbs. Also Gunnar imposed on the nation a double tribute, one
to be paid out of the autumn harvest, the other in the spring.
Thus he burst the bubble conceit of the Norwegians, to make
them feel clearly how their pride was gone, when they saw it
forced to do homage to a dog.
When he heard that the king's daughter was shut
up in some distant hiding-place, Gunnar strained his wits in
every nerve to track her out. Hence, while he was himself
conducting the search with others, his doubtful ear caught the
distant sound of a subterranean hum. Then he went on slowly,
and recognized a human voice with greater certainty. He
ordered the ground underfoot to be dug down to the solid rock;
and when the cave was suddenly laid open, he saw the winding
tunnels. The servants were slain as they tried to guard the
now uncovered entrance to the cave, and the girl was dragged
out of the hole, together with the booty therein concealed.
With great foresight, she had consigned at any rate her
father's swords to the protection of a more secret place.
Gunnar forced her to submit to his will, and she bore a son
Hildiger. This man was such a rival to his father in cruelty,
that he was ever thirsting to kill, and was bent on nothing
but the destruction of men, panting with a boundless lust for
bloodshed. Outlawed by his father on account of his unbearable
ruthlessness, and soon after presented by Alver with a
government, he spent his whole life in arms, visiting his
neighbours with wars and slaughters; nor did he, in his estate
of banishment, relax his accustomed savagery a whir, but would
not change his spirit with his habitation.
Meanwhile Borgar, finding that Gunnar had
married Drota, the daughter of Ragnald, by violence, took from
him both life and wife, and wedded Drota himself. She was not
an unwilling bride; she thought it right for her to embrace
the avenger of her parent. For the daughter mourned her
father, and could never bring herself to submit with any
pleasure to his murderer. This woman and Borgar had a son
Halfdan, who through all his early youth was believed to be
stupid, but whose later years proved illustrious for the most
glorious deeds, and famous for the highest qualities that can
grace life. Once, when a stripling, he mocked in boyish
fashion at a champion of noble repute, who smote him with a
buffet; whereupon Halfdan attacked him with the staff he was
carrying and killed him. This deed was an omen of his future
honours; he had hitherto been held in scorn, but henceforth
throughout his life he had the highest honour and glory. The
affair, indeed, was a prophecy of the greatness of his deeds
in war.
At this period, Rothe, a Ruthenian rover,
almost destroyed our country with his rapine and cruelty. His
harshness was so notable that, while other men spared their
prisoners utter nakedness, he did not think it uncomely to
strip of their coverings even the privy parts of their bodies;
wherefore we are wont to this day to call all severe and
monstrous acts of rapine Rothe-Ran (Rothe's Robbery). He used
also sometimes to inflict the following kind of torture:
Fastening the men's right feet firmly to the earth, he tied
the left feet to boughs for the purpose that when these should
spring back the body would be rent asunder. Hane, Prince of
Funen, wishing to win honour and glory, tried to attack this
man with his sea-forces, but took to flight with one
attendant. It was in reproach of him that the proverb arose:
"The cock (Hane) fights better on its own dunghill." Then
Borgar, who could not bear to see his countrymen perishing any
longer, encountered Rothe. Together they fought and together
they perished. It is said that in this battle Halfdan was
sorely stricken, and was for some time feeble with the wounds
he had received. One of these was inflicted conspicuously on
his mouth, and its scar was so manifest that it remained as an
open blotch when all the other wounds were healed; for the
crushed portion of the lip was so ulcerated by the swelling,
that the flesh would not grow out again and mend the noisome
gash. This circumstance fixed on him a most insulting
nickname,.... although wounds in the front of the body
commonly bring praise and not ignominy. So spiteful a colour
does the belief of the vulgar sometimes put upon men's
virtues.
Meanwhile Gurid, the daughter of Alf, seeing
that the royal line was reduced to herself alone, and having
no equal in birth whom she could marry, proclaimed a vow
imposing chastity on herself, thinking it better to have no
husband than to take one from the commons. Moreover, to escape
outrage, she guarded her room with a chosen band of champions.
Once Halfdan happened to come to see her. The champions, whose
brother he had himself slain in his boyhood, were away. He
told her that she ought to loose her virgin zone, and exchange
her austere chastity for deeds of love; that she ought not to
give in so much to her inclination for modesty as to be too
proud to make a match, and so by her service repair the fallen
monarchy. So he bade her look on himself, who was of eminently
illustrious birth, in the light of a husband, since it
appeared that she would only admit pleasure for the reason he
had named. Gurid answered that she could not bring her mind to
ally the remnants of the royal line to a man of meaner rank.
Not content with reproaching his obscure birth, she also
taunted his unsightly countenance. Halfdan rejoined that she
brought against him two faults: one that his blood was not
illustrious enough; another, that he was blemished with a
cracked lip whose scar had never healed. Therefore he would
not come back to ask for her before he had wiped away both
marks of shame by winning glory in war.
Halfdan entreated her to suffer no man to be
privy to her bed until she heard certain tidings either of his
return or his death. The champions, whom he had bereaved of
their brother long ago, were angry that he had spoken to
Gurid, and tried to ride after him as he went away. When he
saw it, he told his comrades to go into ambush, and said he
would encounter the champions alone. His followers lingered,
and thought it shameful to obey his orders, but he drove them
off with threats, saying that Gurid should not find that fear
had made him refuse to fight. Presently he cut down an
oak-tree and fashioned it into a club, fought the twelve
single-handed, and killed them. After their destruction, not
content with the honours of so splendid an action, and meaning
to do one yet greater, he got from his mother the swords of
his grandfather, one of which was called Lyusing.... and the
other Hwyting, after the sheen of its well- whetted point. But
when he heard that war was raging between Alver, the King of
Sweden, and the Ruthenians (Russians), he instantly went to
Russia, offered help to the natives, and was received by all
with the utmost honour. Alver was not far off, there being
only a little ground to cross to cover the distance between
the two. Alver's soldier Hildiger, the son of Gunnar,
challenged the champions of the Ruthenians to fight him; but
when he saw that Halfdan was put up against him, though
knowing well that he was Halfdan's brother, he let natural
feeling prevail over courage, and said that he, who was famous
for the destruction of seventy champions, would not fight with
an untried man. Therefore he told him to measure himself in
enterprises of lesser moment, and thenceforth to follow
pursuits fitted to his strength. He made this announcement not
from distrust in his own courage, but in order to preserve his
uprightness; for he was not only very valiant, but also
skilled at blunting the sword with spells. For when he
remembered that Halfdan's father had slain his own, he was
moved by two feelings -- the desire to avenge his father, and
his love for his brother. He therefore thought it better to
retire from the challenge than to be guilty of a very great
crime. Halfdan demanded another champion in his place, slew
him when he appeared, and was soon awarded the palm of valour
even by the voice of the enemy, being accounted by public
acclamation the bravest of all. On the next day he asked for
two men to fight with, and slew them both. On the third day he
subdued three; on the fourth he overcame four who met him; and
on the fifth he asked for five.
When Halfdan conquered these, and when the
eighth day had been reached with an equal increase in the
combatants and in the victory, he laid low eleven who attacked
him at once. Hildiger, seeing that his own record of honours
was equalled by the greatness of Halfdan's deeds could not
bear to decline to meet him any longer. And when he felt that
Halfdan had dealt him a deadly wound with a sword wrapped in
rags, he threw away his arms, and, lying on the earth,
addressed his brother as follows:
"It is pleasing to pass an hour away in mutual
talk; and, while the sword rests, to sit a little on the
ground and while away the time by speaking in turn, and keep
ourselves in good heart. Time is left for our purpose; our two
destinies have a different lot; one is surely doomed to die by
a fatal weird, while triumph and glory and all the good of
living await the other in better years. Thus our omens differ,
and our portions are distinguished. Thou art a son of the
Danish land, I of the country of Sweden. Once, Drota thy
mother had her breast swell for thee; she bore me, and by her
I am thy foster-brother. Lo now, there perishes a righteous
offspring, who had the heart to fight with savage spears;
brothers born of a shining race charge and bring death on one
another; while they long for the height of power, they lose
their days, and, having now received a fatal mischief in their
desire for a sceptre, they will go to Styx in a common death.
Fast by my head stands my Swedish shield, which is adorned
with (as) a fresh mirror of diverse chasing, and ringed with
layers of marvellous fretwork. There a picture of really hues
shows slain nobles and conquered champions, and the wars also
and the notable deed of my right hand. In the midst is to be
seen, painted in bright relief, the figure of my son, whom
this hand bereft of his span of life. He was our only heir,
the only thought of his father's mind, and given to his mother
with comfort from above. An evil lot, which heaps years of
ill-fortune on the joyous, chokes mirth in mourning, and
troubles our destiny. For it is lamentable and wretched to
drag out a downcast life, to draw breath through dismal days
and to chafe at foreboding. But whatsoever things are bound by
the prophetic order of the fates, whatsoever are shadowed in
the secrets of the divine plan, whatsoever are foreseen and
fixed in the course of the destinies, no change of what is
transient shall cancel these things."
When he had thus spoken, Halfdan condemned
Hildiger for sloth in avowing so late their bond of
brotherhood; he declared he had kept silence that he might not
be thought a coward for refusing to fight, or a villain if he
fought; and while intent on these words of excuse, he died.
But report had given out among the Danes that Hildiger had
overthrown Halfdan. After this, Siwar, a Saxon of very high
birth, began to be a suitor for Gurid, the only survivor of
the royal blood among the Danes. Secretly she preferred
Halfdan to him, and imposed on her wooer the condition that he
should not ask her in marriage till he had united into one
body the kingdom of the Danes, which was now torn limb from
limb, and restored by arms what had been wrongfully taken from
her. Siwar made a vain attempt to do this; but as he bribed
all the guardians, she was at last granted to him in
betrothal. Halfdan heard of this in Russia through traders,
and voyaged so hard that he arrived before the time of the
wedding-rites. On their first day, before he went to the
palace, he gave orders that his men should not stir from the
watches appointed them till their ears caught the clash of the
steel in the distance. Unknown to the guests, he came and
stood before the maiden, and, that he might not reveal his
meaning to too many by bare and common speech, he composed a
dark and ambiguous song as follows:
"As I left my father's sceptre, I had no fear
of the wiles of woman's device nor of female subtlety.
"When I overthrew, one and two, three and four,
and soon five, and next six, then seven, and also eight, yea
eleven single- handed, triumphant in battle.
"But neither did I then think that I was to be
shamed with the taint of disgrace, with thy frailness to thy
word and thy beguiling pledges."
Gurid answered: "My soul wavered in suspense,
with slender power over events, and shifted about with
restless fickleness. The report of thee was so fleeting, so
doubtful, borne on uncertain stories, and parched by doubting
heart. I feared that the years of thy youth had perished by
the sword. Could I withstand singly my elders and governors,
when they forbade me to refuse that thing, and pressed me to
become a wife? My love and my flame are both yet unchanged,
they shall be mate and match to thine; nor has my troth been
disturbed, but shall have faithful approach to thee.
"For my promise has not yet beguiled thee at
all, though I, being alone, could not reject the counsel of
such manifold persuasion, nor oppose their stern bidding in
the matter of my consent to the marriage bond."
Before the maiden had finished her answer,
Halfdan had already run his sword through the bridegroom. Not
content with having killed one man, he massacred most of the
guests. Staggering tipsily backwards, the Saxons ran at him,
but his servants came up and slaughtered them. After this
HALFDAN took Gurid to wife. But finding in her the fault of
barrenness, and desiring much to have offspring, he went to
Upsala in order to procure fruitfulness for her; and being
told in answer, that he must make atonement to the shades of
his brother if he would raise up children, he obeyed the
oracle, and was comforted by gaining his desire. For he had a
son by Gurid, to whom he gave the name of Harald. Under his
title Halfdan tried to restore the kingdom of the Danes to its
ancient estate, as it was torn asunder by the injuries of the
chiefs; but, while fighting in Zealand, he attacked Wesete, a
very famous champion, in battle, and was slain. Gurid was at
the battle in man's attire, from love for her son. She saw the
event; the young man fought hotly, but his companions fled;
and she took him on her shoulders to a neighbouring wood.
Weariness, more than anything else, kept the enemy from
pursuing him; but one of them shot him as he hung, with an
arrow, through the hinder parts, and Harald thought that his
mother's care brought him more shame than help.
HARALD, being of great beauty and unusual size,
and surpassing those of his age in strength and stature,
received such favour from Odin (whose oracle was thought to
have been the cause of his birth), that steel could not injure
his perfect soundness. The result was, that shafts which
wounded others were disabled from doing him any harm. Nor was
the boon unrequited; for he is reported to have promised to
Odin all the souls which his sword cast out of their bodies.
He also had his father's deeds recorded for a memorial by
craftsmen on a rock in Bleking, whereof I have made mention.
After this, hearing that Wesete was to hold his
wedding in Skaane, he went to the feast disguised as a beggar;
and when all were sunken in wine and sleep, he battered the
bride-chamber with a beam. But Wesete, without inflicting a
wound, so beat his mouth with a cudgel, that he took out two
teeth; but two grinders unexpectedly broke out afterwards and
repaired their loss: an event which earned him the name of
Hyldetand, which some declare he obtained on account of a
prominent row of teeth. Here he slew Wesete, and got the
sovereignty of Skaane. Next he attacked and killed Hather in
Jutland; and his fall is marked by the lasting name of the
town. After this he overthrew Hunding and Rorik, seized Leire,
and reunited the dismembered realm of Denmark into its
original shape. Then he found that Asmund, the King of the
Wikars, had been deprived of his throne by his elder sister;
and, angered by such presumption on the part of a woman, went
to Norway with a single ship, while the war was still
undecided, to help him. The battle began; and, clothed in a
purple cloak, with a coif broidered with gold, and with his
hair bound up, he went against the enemy trusting not in arms,
but in his silent certainty of his luck, insomuch that he
seemed dressed more for a feast than a fray. But his spirit
did not match his attire. For, though unarmed and only adorned
with his emblems of royalty, he outstripped the rest who bore
arms, and exposed himself, lightly-armed as he was, to the
hottest perils of the battle. For the shafts aimed against him
lost all power to hurt, as if their points had been blunted.
When the other side saw him fighting unarmed, they made an
attack, and were forced for very shame into assailing him more
hotly. But Harald, whole in body, either put them to the
sword, or made them take to flight; and thus he overthrew the
sister of Asmund, and restored him his kingdom. When Asmund
offered him the prizes of victory, he said that the reward of
glory was enough by itself; and demeaned himself as greatly in
refusing the gifts as he had in earning them. By this he made
all men admire his self-restraint as much as his valour; and
declared that the victory should give him a harvest not of
gold but glory.
Meantime Alver, the King of the Swedes, died
leaving sons Olaf, Ing, and Ingild. One of these, Ing,
dissatisfied with the honours his father bequeathed him,
declared war with the Danes in order to extend his empire. And
when Harald wished to inquire of oracles how this war would
end, an old man of great height, but lacking one eye, and clad
also in a hairy mantle, appeared before him, and declared that
he was called Odin, and was versed in the practice of warfare;
and he gave him the most useful instruction how to divide up
his army in the field. Now he told him, whenever he was going
to make war with his land-forces, to divide his whole army
into three squadrons, each of which he was to pack into twenty
ranks; the centre squadron, however, he was to extend further
than the rest by the number of twenty men. This squadron he
was also to arrange in the form of the point of a cone or
pyramid, and to make the wings on either side slant off
obliquely from it. He was to compose the successive ranks of
each squadron in the following way: the front should begin
with two men, and the number in each succeeding rank should
only increase by one; he was, in fact, to post a rank of three
in the second line, four in the third, and so on behind. And
thus, when the men mustered, all the succeeding ranks were to
be manned at the same rate of proportion, until the end of
(the edge that made) the junction of men came down to the
wings; each wing was to be drawn up in ten lines from that
point. Likewise after these squadrons he was to put the young
men, equipped with lances, and behind these to set the company
of aged men, who would support their comrades with what one
might call a veteran valour if they faltered; next, a skilful
reckoner should attach wings of slingers to stand behind the
ranks of their fellows and attack the enemy from a distance
with missiles. After these he was to enroll men of any age or
rank indiscriminately, without heed of their estate. Moreover,
he was to draw up the rear like the vanguard, in three
separated divisions, and arranged in ranks similarly
proportioned. The back of this, joining on to the body in
front would protect it by facing in the opposite direction.
But if a sea-battle happened to occur, he should withdraw a
portion of his fleet, which when he began the intended
engagement, was to cruise round that of the enemy, wheeling to
and fro continually. Equipped with this system of warfare, he
forestalled matters in Sweden, and killed Ing and Olaf as they
were making ready to fight. Their brother Ingild sent
messengers to beg a truce, on pretence of his ill- health.
Harald granted his request, that his own valour, which had
learnt to spare distress, might not triumph over a man in the
hour of lowliness and dejection. When Ingild afterwards
provoked Harald by wrongfully ravishing his sister, Harald
vexed him with long and indecisive war, but then took him into
his friendship, thinking it better to have him for ally than
for enemy.
After this he heard that Olaf, King of the
Thronds, had to fight with the maidens Stikla and Rusila for
the kingdom. Much angered at this arrogance on the part of
women, he went to Olaf unobserved, put on dress which
concealed the length of his teeth, and attacked the maidens.
He overthrew them both, leaving to two harbours a name akin to
theirs. It was then that he gave a notable exhibition of
valour; for defended only by a shirt under his shoulders, he
fronted the spears with unarmed breast.
When Olaf offered Harald the prize of victory,
he rejected the gift, thus leaving it a question whether he
had shown a greater example of bravery or self-control. Then
he attacked a champion of the Frisian nation, named Ubbe, who
was ravaging the borders of Jutland and destroying numbers of
the common people; and when Harald could not subdue him to his
arms, he charged his soldiers to grip him with their hands,
throw him on the ground, and to bind him while thus
overpowered. Thus he only overcame the man and mastered him by
a shameful kind of attack, though a little before he thought
he would inflict a heavy defeat on him. But Harald gave him
his sister in marriage, and thus gained him for his soldier.
Harald made tributaries of the nations that lay
along the Rhine, levying troops from the bravest of that race.
With these forces he conquered Sclavonia in war, and caused
its generals, Duk and Dal, because of their bravery, to be
captured, and not killed. These men he took to serve with him,
and, after overcoming Aquitania, soon went to Britain, where
he overthrew the King of the Humbrians, and enrolled the
smartest of the warriors he had conquered, the chief of whom
was esteemed to be Orm, surnamed the Briton. The fame of these
deeds brought champions from divers parts of the world, whom
he formed into a band of mercenaries. Strengthened by their
numbers, he kept down insurrections in all kingdoms by the
terror of his name, so that he took out of their rulers all
courage to fight with one another. Moreover, no man durst
assume any sovereignty on the sea without his consent; for of
old the state of the Danes had the joint lordship of land and
sea.
Meantime Ingild died in Sweden, leaving only a
very little son, Ring, whom he had by the sister of Harald.
Harald gave the boy guardians, and put him over his father's
kingdom. Thus, when he had overcome princes and provinces, he
passed fifty years in peace. To save the minds of his soldiers
from being melted into sloth by this inaction, he decreed that
they should assiduously learn from the champions the way of
parrying and dealing blows. Some of these were skilled in a
remarkable manner of fighting, and used to smite the eyebrow
on the enemy's forehead with an infallible stroke; but if any
man, on receiving the blow, blinked for fear, twitching his
eyebrow, he was at once expelled the court and dismissed the
service.
At this time Ole, the son of Siward and of
Harald's sister, came to Denmark from the land of Norway in
the desire to see his uncle. Since it is known that he had the
first place among the followers of Harald, and that after the
Swedish war he came to the throne of Denmark, it bears
somewhat on the subject to relate the traditions of his deeds.
Ole, then, when he had passed his tenth to his fifteenth year
with his father, showed incredible proofs of his brilliant
gifts both of mind and body. Moreover, he was so savage of
countenance that his eyes were like the arms of other men
against the enemy, and he terrified the bravest with his stern
and flashing glance. He heard the tidings that Gunn, ruler of
Tellemark, with his son Grim, was haunting as a robber the
forest of Etha-scog, which was thick with underbrush and full
of gloomy glens. The offence moved his anger; then he asked
his father for a horse, a dog, and such armour as could be
got, and cursed his youth, which was suffering the right
season for valour to slip sluggishly away. He got what he
asked, and explored the aforesaid wood very narrowly. He saw
the footsteps of a man printed deep on the snow; for the rime
was blemished by the steps, and betrayed the robber's
progress. Thus guided, he went over a hill, and came on a very
great river. This effaced the human tracks he had seen before,
and he determined that he must cross. But the mere mass of
water, whose waves ran down in a headlong torrent, seemed to
forbid all crossing; for it was full of hidden reefs, and the
whole length of its channel was turbid with a kind of whirl of
foam. Yet all fear of danger was banished from Ole's mind by
his impatience to make haste. So valour conquered fear, and
rashness scorned peril; thinking nothing hard to do if it were
only to his mind, he crossed the hissing eddies on horseback.
When he had passed these, he came upon defiles surrounded on
all sides with swamps, the interior of which was barred from
easy approach by the pinnacle of a bank in front. He took his
horse over this, and saw an enclosure with a number of stalls.
Out of this he turned many horses, and was minded to put in
his own, when a certain Tok, a servant of Gunn, angry that a
stranger should wax so insolent, attacked him fiercely; but
Ole foiled his assailant by simply opposing his shield.
Thinking it a shame to slay the fellow with the sword, he
seized him, shattered him limb by limb, and flung him across
into the house whence he had issued in his haste. This insult
quickly aroused Gunn and Grim: they ran out by different side-
doors, and charged Ole both at once, despising his age and
strength. He wounded them fatally; and, when their bodily
powers were quite spent, Grim, who could scarce muster a final
gasp, and whose force was almost utterly gone, with his last
pants composed this song:
"Though we be weak in frame, and the loss of
blood has drained our strength; since the life-breath, now
drawn out by my wound, scarce quivers softly in my pierced
breast:
"I counsel that we should make the battle of
our last hour glorious with dauntless deeds, that none may say
that a combat has anywhere been bravelier waged or harder
fought;
"And that our wild strife while we bore arms
may, when our weary flesh has found rest in the tomb, win us
the wage of immortal fame.
"Let our first stroke crush the shoulder-blades
of the foe, let our steel cut off both his hands; so that,
when Stygian Pluto has taken us, a like doom may fall on Ole
also, and a common death tremble over three, and one urn cover
the ashes of three."
Here Grim ended. But his father, rivalling his
indomitable spirit, and wishing to give some exhortation in
answer to his son's valiant speech, thus began:
"What though our veins be wholly bloodless, and
in our frail body the life be brief, yet our last fight be so
strong and strenuous that it suffer not the praise of us to be
brief also.
"Therefore aim the javelin first at the
shoulders and arms of the foe, so that the work of his hands
may be weakened; and thus when we are gone three shall receive
a common sepulchre, and one urn alike for three shall cover
our united dust."
When he had said this, both of them, resting on
their knees (for the approach of death had drained their
strength), made a desperate effort to fight Ole hand to hand,
in order that, before they perished, they might slay their
enemy also; counting death as nothing if only they might
envelope their slayer in a common fall. Ole slew one of them
with his sword, the other with his hound. But even he gained
no bloodless victory; for though he had been hitherto
unscathed, now at last he received a wound in front. His dog
diligently licked him over, and he regained his bodily
strength: and soon, to publish sure news of his victory, he
hung the bodies of the robbers upon gibbets in wide view.
Moreover, he took the stronghold, and put in secret keeping
all the booty he found there, in reserve for future use.
At this time the arrogant wantonness of the
brothers Skate and Hiale waxed so high that they would take
virgins of notable beauty from their parents and ravish them.
Hence it came about that they formed the purpose of seizing
Esa, the daughter of Olaf, prince of the Werms; and bade her
father, if he would not have her serve the passion of a
stranger, fight either in person, or by some deputy, in
defence of his child. When Ole had news of this, he rejoiced
in the chance of a battle, and borrowing the attire of a
peasant, went to the dwelling of Olaf. He received one of the
lowest places at table; and when he saw the household of the
king in sorrow, he called the king's son closer to him, and
asked why they all wore so lamentable a face. The other
answered, that unless someone quickly interposed to protect
them, his sister's chastity would soon be outraged by some
ferocious champions. Ole next asked him what reward would be
received by the man who devoted his life for the maiden. Olaf,
on his son asking him about this matter, said that his
daughter should go to the man who fought for her: and these
words, more than anything, made Ole long to encounter the
danger.
Now the maiden was wont to go from one guest to
another in order to scan their faces narrowly, holding out a
light that she might have a surer view of the dress and
character of those who were entertained. It is also believed
that she divined their lineage from the lines and features of
the face, and could discern any man's birth by sheer
shrewdness of vision. When she stood and fixed the scrutiny of
her gaze upon Olaf, she was stricken with the strange
awfulness of his eyes, and fell almost lifeless. But when her
strength came slowly back, and her breath went and came more
freely, she again tried to look at the young man, but suddenly
slipped and fell forward, as though distraught. A third time
also she strove to lift her closed and downcast gaze, but
suddenly tottered and fell, unable not only to move her eyes,
but even to control her feet; so much can strength be palsied
by amazement. When Olaf saw it, he asked her why she had
fallen so often. She averred that she was stricken by the
savage gaze of the guest; that he was born of kings; and she
declared that if he could baulk the will of the ravishers, he
was well worthy of her arms. Then all of them asked Ole, who
was keeping his face muffled in a hat, to fling off his
covering, and let them see something by which to learn his
features. Then, bidding them all lay aside their grief, and
keep their heart far from sorrow, he uncovered his brow; and
he drew the eyes of all upon him in marvel at his great
beauty. For his locks were golden and the hair of his head was
radiant; but he kept the lids close over his pupils, that they
might not terrify the beholders.
All were heartened with the hope of better
things; the guests seemed to dance and the courtiers to leap
for joy; the deepest melancholy seemed to be scattered by an
outburst of cheerfulness. Thus hope relieved their fears; the
banquet wore a new face, and nothing was the same, or like
what it had been before. So the kindly promise of a single
guest dispelled the universal terror. Meanwhile Hiale and
Skate came up with ten servants, meaning to carry off the
maiden then and there, and disturbed all the place with their
noisy shouts. They called on the king to give battle, unless
he produced his daughter instantly. Ole at once met their
frenzy with the promise to fight, adding the condition that no
one should stealthily attack an opponent in the rear, but
should only combat in the battle face to face. Then, with his
sword called Logthi, he felled them all, single-handed -- an
achievement beyond his years. The ground for the battle was
found on an isle in the middle of a swamp, not far from which
is a stead that serves to memorise this slaughter, bearing the
names of the brothers Hiale and Skate together.
So the girl was given him as prize of the
combat, and bore him a son Omund. Then he gained his
father-in-law's leave to revisit his father. But when he heard
that his country was being attacked by Thore, with the help of
Toste Sacrificer, and Leotar, surnamed.... he went to fight
them, content with a single servant, who was dressed as a
woman. When he was near the house of Thore, he concealed his
own and his attendant's swords in hollowed staves. And when he
entered the palace, he disguised his true countenance, and
feigned to be a man broken with age. He said that with Siward
he had been king of the beggars, but that he was now in exile,
having been stubbornly driven forth by the hatred of the
king's son Ole. Presently many of the courtiers greeted him
with the name of king, and began to kneel and offer him their
hands in mockery. He told them to bear out in deeds what they
had done in jest; and, plucking out the swords which he and
his man kept shut in their staves, attacked the king. So some
aided Ole, taking it more as jest than earnest, and would not
be false to the loyalty which they mockingly yielded him; but
most of them, breaking their idle vow, took the side of Thore.
Thus arose an internecine and undecided fray. At last Thore
was overwhelmed and slain by the arms of his own folk, as much
as by these of his guests; and Leotar, wounded to the death,
and judging that his conqueror, Ole, was as keen in mind as he
was valorous in deeds, gave him the name of the Vigorous, and
prophesied that he should perish by the same kind of trick as
he had used with Thore; for, without question he should fall
by the treachery of his own house. And, as he spoke, he
suddenly passed away. Thus we can see that the last speech of
the dying man expressed by its shrewd divination the end that
should come upon his conqueror.
After these deeds Ole did not go back to his
father till he had restored peace to his house. His father
gave him the command of the sea, and he destroyed seventy
sea-kings in a naval battle. The most distinguished among
these were Birwil and Hwirwil, Thorwil, Nef and Onef, Redward
(?), Rand and Erand (?). By the honour and glory of this
exploit he excited many champions, whose whole heart's desire
was for bravery, to join in alliance with him. He also
enrolled into a bodyguard the wild young warriors who were
kindled with a passion for glory. Among these he received
Starkad with the greatest honour, and cherished him with more
friendship than profit. Thus fortified, he checked, by the
greatness of his name, the wantonness of the neighbouring
kings, in that he took from them all their forces and all
liking and heart for mutual warfare.
After this he went to Harald, who made him
commander of the sea; and at last he was transferred to the
service of Ring. At this time one Brun was the sole partner
and confidant of all Harald's councils. To this man both
Harald and Ring, whenever they needed a secret messenger, used
to entrust their commissions. This degree of intimacy he
obtained because he had been reared and fostered with them.
But Brun, amid the toils of his constant journeys to and fro,
was drowned in a certain river; and Odin, disguised under his
name and looks, shook the close union of the kings by his
treacherous embassage; and he sowed strife so guilefully that
he engendered in men, who were bound by friendship and blood,
a bitter mutual hate, which seemed unappeasable except by war.
Their dissensions first grew up silently; at last both sides
betrayed their leanings, and their secret malice burst into
the light of day. So they declared their feuds, and seven
years passed in collecting the materials of war. Some say that
Harald secretly sought occasions to destroy himself, not being
moved by malice or jealousy for the crown, but by a deliberate
and voluntary effort. His old age and his cruelty made him a
burden to his subjects; he preferred the sword to the pangs of
disease, and liked better to lay down his life in the
battle-field than in his bed, that he might have an end in
harmony with the deeds of his past life. Thus, to make his
death more illustrious, and go to the nether world in a larger
company, he longed to summon many men to share his end; and he
therefore of his own will prepared for war, in order to make
food for future slaughter. For these reasons, being seized
with as great a thirst to die himself as to kill others, and
wishing the massacre on both sides to be equal, he furnished
both sides with equal resources; but let Ring have a somewhat
stronger force, preferring he should conquer and survive him.
ENDNOTES:
(1) A parallel is the Lionel-Lancelot story of children saved
by being turned into dogs.
BOOK EIGHT
STARKAD was the first to set in order in Danish
speech the history of the Swedish war, a conflict whereof he
was himself a mighty pillar; the said history being rather an
oral than a written tradition. He set forth and arranged the
course of this war in the mother tongue according to the
fashion of our country; but I purpose to put it into Latin,
and will first recount the most illustrious princes on either
side. For I have felt no desire to include the multitude,
which are even past exact numbering. And my pen shall relate
first those on the side of Harald, and presently those who
served under Ring.
Now the most famous of the captains that
mustered to Harald are acknowledged to have been Sweyn and
Sambar (Sam?), Ambar and Elli; Rati of Funen, Salgard and Roe
(Hrothgar), whom his long beard distinguished by a nickname.
Besides these, Skalk the Scanian, and Alf the son of Agg; to
whom are joined Olwir the Broad, and Gnepie the Old. Besides
these there was Gardh, founder of the town Stang. To these are
added the kinsfolk or bound followers of Harald: Blend
(Blaeng?), the dweller in furthest Thule, (1) and Brand, whose
surname was Crumb (Bitling?). Allied with these were Thorguy,
with Thorwig, Tatar (Teit), and Hialte. These men voyaged to
Leire with bodies armed for war; but they were also mighty in
excellence of wit, and their trained courage matched their
great stature; for they had skill in discharging arrows both
from bow and catapult, and at fighting their foe as they
commonly did, man to man; and also at readily stringing
together verse in the speech of their country: so zealously
had they trained mind and body alike. Now out of Leire came
Hortar (Hjort) and Borrhy (Borgar or Borgny), and also Belgi
and Beigad, to whom were added Bari and Toli. Now out of the
town of Sle, under the captains Hetha (Heid) and Wisna, with
Hakon Cut-cheek came Tummi the Sailmaker. On these captains,
who had the bodies of women, nature bestowed the souls of men.
Webiorg was also inspired with the same spirit, and was
attended by Bo (Bui) Bramason and Brat the Jute, thirsting for
war. In the same throng came Orm of England, Ubbe the Frisian,
Ari the One-eyed, and Alf Gotar. Next in the count came Dal
the Fat and Duk the Sclav; Wisna, a woman, filled with
sternness, and a skilled warrior, was guarded by a band of
Sclavs: her chief followers were Barri and Gnizli. But the
rest of the same company had their bodies covered by little
shields, and used very long swords and targets of skiey hue,
which, in time of war, they either cast behind their backs or
gave over to the baggage- bearers; while they cast away all
protection to their breasts, and exposed their bodies to every
peril, offering battle with drawn swords. The most illustrious
of these were Tolkar and Ymi. After these, Toki of the
province of Wohin was conspicuous together with Otrit surnamed
the Young. Hetha, guarded by a retinue of very active men,
brought an armed company to the war, the chiefs of whom were
Grim and Grenzli; next to whom are named Geir the Livonian,
Hame also and Hunger, Humbli and Biari, bravest of the
princes. These men often fought duels successfully, and won
famous victories far and wide.
The maidens I have named, in fighting as well
as courteous array, led their land-forces to the battle-field.
Thus the Danish army mustered company by company. There were
seven kings, equal in spirit but differing in allegiance, some
defending Harald, and some Ring. Moreover, the following went
to the side of Harald: Homi and Hosathul (Eysothul?), Him....,
Hastin and Hythin (Hedin) the Slight, also Dahar (Dag), named
Grenski, and Harald Olafsson also. From the province of Aland
came Har and Herlewar (Herleif), with Hothbrodd, surnamed the
Furious; these fought in the Danish camp. But from Imisland
arrived Humnehy (?) and Harald. They were joined by Haki and
by Sigmund and Serker the sons of Bemon, all coming from the
North. All these were retainers of the king, who befriended
them most generously; for they were held in the highest
distinction by him, receiving swords adorned with gold, and
the choicest spoils of war. There came also.... the sons of
Gandal the old, who were in the intimate favour of Harald by
reason of ancient allegiance. Thus the sea was studded with
the Danish fleet, and seemed to interpose a bridge, uniting
Zealand to Skaane. To those that wished to pass between those
provinces, the sea offered a short road on foot over the dense
mass of ships. But Harald would not have the Swedes unprepared
in their arrangements for war, and sent men to Ring to carry
his public declaration of hostilities, and notify the rupture
of the mediating peace. The same men were directed to
prescribe the place of combat. These then whom I have named
were the fighters for Harald.
Now, on the side of Ring were numbered Ulf,
Aggi (Aki?), Windar (Eywind?), Egil the One-eyed; Gotar,
Hildi, Guti Alfsson; Styr the Stout, and (Tolo-) Stein, who
lived by the Wienic Mere. To these were joined Gerd the Glad
and Gromer (Glum?) from Wermland. After these are reckoned the
dwellers north on the Elbe, Saxo the Splitter, Sali the Goth;
Thord the Stumbler, Throndar Big-nose; Grundi, Oddi, Grindir,
Tovi; Koll, Biarki, Hogni the Clever, Rokar the Swart. Now
these scorned fellowship with the common soldiers, and had
formed themselves into a separate rank apart from the rest of
the company. Besides these are numbered Hrani Hildisson and
Lyuth Guthi (Hljot Godi), Svein the Topshorn, (Soknarsoti?),
Rethyr (Hreidar?) Hawk, and Rolf the Uxorious (Woman-lover).
Massed with these were Ring Adilsson and Harald who came from
Thotn district. Joined to these were Walstein of Wick, Thorolf
the Thick, Thengel the Tall, Hun, Solwe, Birwil the Pale,
Borgar and Skumbar (Skum). But from, Tellemark came the
bravest of all, who had most courage but least arrogance --
Thorleif the Stubborn, Thorkill the Gute (Gothlander), Grettir
the Wicked and the Lover of Invasions. Next to these came Hadd
the Hard and Rolder (Hroald) Toe-joint.
From Norway we have the names of Thrand of
Throndhjem, Thoke (Thore) of More, Hrafn the White, Haf (war),
Biarni, Blihar (Blig?) surnamed Snub-nosed; Biorn from the
district of Sogni; Findar (Finn) born in the Firth; Bersi born
in the town F(I)alu; Siward Boarhead, Erik the Story-teller,
Holmstein the White, Hrut Rawi (or Vafi, the Doubter), Erling
surnamed Snake. Now from the province of Jather came Odd the
Englishman, Alf the Far-wanderer, Enar the Paunched, and Ywar
surnamed Thriug. Now from Thule (Iceland) came Mar the Red,
born and bred in the district called Midfirth; Grombar the
Aged, Gram Brundeluk (Bryndalk?) Grim from the town of Skier
(um) born in Skagafiord. Next came Berg the Seer, accompanied
by Bragi and Rafnkel.
Now the bravest of the Swedes were these:
Arwakki, Keklu-Karl (Kelke-Karl), Krok the Peasant, (from
Akr), Gudfast and Gummi from Gislamark. These were kindred of
the god Frey, and most faithful witnesses to the gods. Ingi
(Yngwe) also, and Oly, Alver, Folki, all sons of Elrik
(Alrek), embraced the service of Ring; they were men ready of
hand, quick in counsel, and very close friends of Ring. They
likewise held the god Frey to be the founder of their race.
Amongst these from the town of Sigtun also came Sigmund, a
champion advocate, versed in making contracts of sale and
purchase; besides him Frosti surnamed Bowl: allied with him
was Alf the Lofty (Proud?) from the district of Upsala; this
man was a swift spear-thrower, and used to go in the front of
the battle.
Ole had a body-guard in which were seven kings,
very ready of hand and of counsel; namely, Holti, Hendil,
Holmar, Lewy (Leif), and Hame; with these was enrolled Regnald
the Russian, the grandson of Radbard; and Siwald also furrowed
the sea with eleven light ships. Lesy (Laesi), the conqueror
of the Pannonians (Huns), fitted with a sail his swift galley
ringed with gold. Thririkar (Erik Helsing) sailed in a ship
whose prows were twisted like a dragon. Also Thrygir (Tryggve)
and Torwil sailed and brought twelve ships jointly. In the
entire fleet of Ring there were 2,500 ships.
The fleet of Gotland was waiting for the
Swedish fleet in the harbour named Garnum. So Ring led the
land-force, while Ole was instructed to command the fleet. Now
the Goths were appointed a time and a place between Wik and
Werund for the conflict with the Swedes. Then was the sea to
be seen furrowed up with prows, and the canvas unfurled upon
the masts cut off the view over the ocean. The Danes had so
far been distressed with bad weather; but the Swedish fleet
had a fair voyage, and had reached the scene of battle
earlier. Here Ring disembarked his forces from his fleet, and
then massed and prepared to draw up in line both these and the
army he had himself conducted overland. When these forces were
at first loosely drawn up over the open country, it was found
that one wing reached all the way to Werund. The multitude was
confused in its places and ranks; but the king rode round it,
and posted in the van all the smartest and most
excellently-armed men, led by Ole, Regnald, and Wivil; then he
massed the rest of the army on the two wings in a kind of
curve. Ung, with the sons of Alrek, and Trig, he ordered to
protect the right wing, while the left was put under the
command of Laesi. Moreover, the wings and the masses were
composed mainly of a close squadron of Kurlanders and of
Esthonians. Last stood the line of slingers.
Meantime the Danish fleet, favoured by kindly
winds, sailed, without stopping, for twelve days, and came to
the town (stead) of Kalmar. The wind-blown sails covering the
waters were a marvel; and the canvas stretched upon the yards
blotted out the sight of the heavens. For the fleet was
augmented by the Sclavs and the Livonians and 7,000 Saxons.
But the Skanians, knowing the country, were appointed as
guides and scouts to those who were going over the dry land.
So when the Danish army came upon the Swedes, who stood
awaiting them, Ring told his men to stand quietly until Harald
had drawn up his line of battle; bidding them not to sound the
signal before they saw the king settled in his chariot beside
the standards; for he said he should hope that an army would
soon come to grief which trusted in the leading of a blind
man. Harald, moreover, he said, had been seized in extreme age
with the desire of foreign empire, and was as witless as he
was sightless; wealth could not satisfy a man who, if he
looked to his years, ought to be well-nigh contented with a
grave. The Swedes therefore were bound to fight for their
freedom, their country, and their children, while the enemy
had undertaken the war in rashness and arrogance. Moreover, on
the other side, there were very few Danes, but a mass of
Saxons and other unmanly peoples stood arrayed. Swedes and
Norwegians should therefore consider, how far the multitudes
of the North had always surpassed the Germans and the Sclavs.
They should therefore despise an army which seemed to be
composed more of a mass of fickle offscourings than of a firm
and stout soldiery.
By this harangue of King Ring he kindled high
the hearts of the soldiers. Now Brun, being instructed to form
the line on Harald's behalf, made the front in a wedge,
posting Hetha on the right flank, putting Hakon in command of
the left, and making Wisna standard-bearer. Harald stood up in
his chariot and complained, in as loud a voice as he could,
that Ring was requiting his benefits with wrongs; that the man
who had got his kingdom. by Harald's own gift was now
attacking him; so that Ring neither pitied an old man nor
spared an uncle, but set his own ambitions before any regard
for Harald's kinship or kindness. So he bade the Danes
remember how they had always won glory by foreign conquest,
and how they were more wont to command their neighbours than
to obey them. He adjured them not to let such glory as theirs
to be shaken by the insolence of a conquered nation, nor to
suffer the empire, which he had won in the flower of his
youth, to be taken from him in his outworn age.
Then the trumpets sounded, and both sides
engaged in battle with all their strength. The sky seemed to
fall suddenly on the earth, fields and woods to sink into the
ground; all things were confounded, and old Chaos come again;
heaven and earth mingling in one tempestuous turmoil, and the
world rushing to universal ruin. For, when the spear-throwing
began, the intolerable clash of arms filled the air with an
incredible thunder. The steam of the wounds suddenly hung a
mist over the sky, the daylight was hidden under the hail of
spears. The help of the slingers was of great use in the
battle. But when the missiles had all been flung from hand or
engines, they fought with swords or iron-shod maces; and it
was now at close quarters that most blood was spilt. Then the
sweat streamed down their weary bodies, and the clash of the
swords could be heard afar.
Starkad, who was the first to set forth the
history of this war in the telling, fought foremost in the
fray, and relates that he overthrew the nobles of Harald, Hun
and Elli, Hort and Burgha, and cut off the right hand of
Wisna. He also relates that one Roa, with two others, Gnepie
and Gardar, fell wounded by him in the field. To these he adds
the father of Skalk, whose name is not given. He also declares
that he cast Hakon, the bravest of the Danes, to the earth,
but received from him such a wound in return that he had to
leave the war with his lung protruding from his chest, his
neck cleft to the centre, and his hand deprived of one finger;
so that he long had a gaping wound, which seemed as if it
would never either scar over or be curable. The same man
witnesses that the maiden Weghbiorg (Webiorg) fought against
the enemy and felled Soth the champion. While she was
threatening to slay more champions, she was pierced through by
an arrow from the bowstring of Thorkill, a native of
Tellemark. For the skilled archers of the Gotlanders strung
their bows so hard that the shafts pierced through even the
shields; nothing proved more murderous; for the arrow-points
made their way through hauberk and helmet as if they were
men's defenceless bodies.
Meanwhile Ubbe the Frisian, who was the
readiest of Harald's soldiers, and of notable bodily stature,
slew twenty-five picked champions, besides eleven whom he had
wounded in the field. All these were of Swedish or Gothic
blood. Then he attacked the vanguard and burst into the
thickest of the enemy, driving the Swedes struggling in a
panic every way with spear and sword. It had all but come to a
flight, when Hagder (Hadd), Rolder (Hroald), and Grettir
attacked the champion, emulating his valour, and resolving at
their own risk to retrieve the general ruin. But, fearing to
assault him at close quarters, they accomplished their end
with arrows from afar; and thus Ubbe was riddled by a shower
of arrows, no one daring to fight him hand to hand. A hundred
and forty-four arrows had pierced the breast of the warrior
before his bodily strength failed and he bent his knee to the
earth. Then at last the Danes suffered a great defeat, owing
to the Thronds and the dwellers in the province of Dala. For
the battle began afresh by reason of the vast mass of the
archers, and nothing damaged our men more.
But when Harald, being now blind with age,
heard the lamentable murmur of his men, he perceived that
fortune had smiled on his enemies. So, as he was riding in a
chariot armed with scythes, he told Brun, who was
treacherously acting as charioteer, to find out in what manner
Ring had his line drawn up. Brun's face relaxed into something
of a smile, and he answered that he was fighting with a line
in the form of a wedge. When the king heard this he began to
be alarmed, and to ask in great astonishment from whom Ring
could have learnt this method of disposing his line,
especially as Odin was the discoverer and imparter of this
teaching, and none but himself had ever learnt from him this
new pattern of warfare. At this Brun was silent, and it came
into the king's mind that here was Odin, and that the god whom
he had once known so well was now disguised in a changeful
shape, in order either to give help or withhold it. Presently
he began to beseech him earnestly to grant the final victory
to the Danes, since he had helped them so graciously before,
and to fill up his last kindness to the measure of the first;
promising to dedicate to him as a gift the spirits of all who
fell. But Brun, utterly unmoved by his entreaties, suddenly
jerked the king out of the chariot, battered him to the earth,
plucked the club from him as he fell, whirled it upon his
head, and slew him with his own weapon. Countless corpses lay
round the king's chariot, and the horrid heap overtopped the
wheels; the pile of carcases rose as high as the pole. For
about 12,000 of the nobles of Ring fell upon the field. But on
the side of Harald about 30,000 nobles fell, not to name the
slaughter of the commons.
When Ring heard that Harald was dead, he gave
the signal to his men to break up their line and cease
fighting. Then under cover of truce he made treaty with the
enemy, telling them that it was vain to prolong the fray
without their captain. Next he told the Swedes to look
everywhere among the confused piles of carcases for the body
of Harald, that the corpse of the king might not wrongfully
lack its due rights. So the populace set eagerly to the task
of turning over the bodies of the slain, and over this work
half the day was spent. At last the body was found with the
club, and he thought that propitiation should be made to the
shade of Harald. So he harnessed the horse on which he rode to
the chariot of the king, decked it honourably with a golden
saddle, and hallowed it in his honour. Then he proclaimed his
vows, and added his prayer that Harald would ride on this and
outstrip those who shared his death in their journey to
Tartarus; and that he would pray Pluto, the lord of Orcus, to
grant a calm abode there for friend and foe. Then he raised a
pyre, and bade the Danes fling on the gilded chariot of their
king as fuel to the fire. And while the flames were burning
the body cast upon them, he went round the mourning nobles and
earnestly charged them that they should freely give arms,
gold, and every precious thing to feed the pyre in honour of
so great a king, who had deserved so nobly of them all. He
also ordered that the ashes of his body, when it was quite
burnt, should be transferred to an urn, taken to Leire, and
there, together with the horse and armour, receive a royal
funeral. By paying these due rites of honour to his uncle's
shade, he won the favour of the Danes, and turned the hate of
his enemies into goodwill. Then the Danes besought him to
appoint Hetha over the remainder of the realm; but, that the
fallen strength of the enemy might not suddenly rally, he
severed Skaane from the mass of Denmark, and put it separately
under the governorship of Ole, ordering that only Zealand and
the other lands of the realm should be subject to Hetha. Thus
the changes of fortune brought the empire of Denmark under the
Swedish rule. So ended the Bravic war.
But the Zealanders, who had had Harald for
their captain, and still had the picture of their former
fortune hovering before their minds, thought it shameful to
obey the rule of a woman, and appealed to OLE not to suffer
men that had been used to serve under a famous king to be kept
under a woman's yoke. They also promised to revolt to him if
he would take up arms to remove their ignominious lot. Ole,
tempted as much by the memory of his ancestral glory as by the
homage of the soldiers, was not slow to answer their
entreaties. So he summoned Hetha, and forced her by threats
rather than by arms to quit every region under her control
except Jutland; and even Jutland he made a tributary state, so
as not to allow a woman the free control of a kingdom. He also
begot a son whom he named Omund. But he was given to cruelty,
and showed himself such an unrighteous king, that all who had
found it a shameful thing to be ruled by a queen now repented
of their former scorn.
Twelve generals, whether moved by the disasters
of their country, or hating Ole for some other reason, began
to plot against his life. Among these were Hlenni, Atyl,
Thott, and Withne, the last of whom was a Dane by birth,
though he held a government among the Sclavs. Moreover, not
trusting in their strength and their cunning to accomplish
their deed, they bribed Starkad to join them. He was prevailed
to do the deed with the sword; he undertook the bloody work,
and resolved to attack the king while at the bath. In he went
while the king was washing, but was straightway stricken by
the keenness of his gaze and by the restless and quivering
glare of his eyes. His limbs were palsied with sudden dread;
he paused, stepped back, and stayed his hand and his purpose.
Thus he who had shattered the arms of so many captains and
champions could not bear the gaze of a single unarmed man. But
Ole, who well knew about his own countenance, covered his
face, and asked him to come closer and tell him what his
message was; for old fellowship and long-tried friendship made
him the last to suspect treachery. But Starkad drew his sword,
leapt forward, thrust the king through, and struck him in the
throat as he tried to rise. One hundred and twenty marks of
gold were kept for his reward. Soon afterwards he was smitten
with remorse and shame, and lamented his crime so bitterly,
that he could not refrain from tears if it happened to be
named. Thus his soul, when he came to his senses, blushed for
his abominable sin. Moreover, to atone for the crime he had
committed, he slew some of those who had inspired him to it,
thus avenging the act to which he had lent his hand.
Now the Danes made OMUND, the son of Ole, king,
thinking that more heed should be paid to his father's birth
than to his deserts. Omund, when he had grown up, fell in
nowise behind the exploits of his father; for he made it his
aim to equal or surpass the deeds of Ole.
At this time a considerable tribe of the
Northmen (Norwegians) was governed by Ring, and his daughter
Esa's great fame commended her to Omund, who was looking out
for a wife.
But his hopes of wooing her were lessened by
the peculiar inclination of Ring, who desired no son-in-law
but one of tried valour; for he found as much honour in arms
as others think lies in wealth. Omund therefore, wishing to
become famous in that fashion, and to win the praise of
valour, endeavoured to gain his desire by force, and sailed to
Norway with a fleet, to make an attempt on the throne of Ring
under plea of hereditary right. Odd, the chief of Jather, who
declared that Ring had assuredly seized his inheritance, and
lamented that he harried him with continual wrongs, received
Omund kindly. Ring, in the meantime, was on a roving raid in
Ireland, so that Omund attacked a province without a defender.
Sparing the goods of the common people, he gave the private
property of Ring over to be plundered, and slew his kinsfolk;
Odd also having joined his forces to Omund. Now, among all his
divers and manifold deeds, he could never bring himself to
attack an inferior force, remembering that he was the son of a
most valiant father, and that he was bound to fight armed with
courage, and not with numbers.
Meanwhile Ring had returned from roving; and
when Omund heard he was back, he set to and built a vast ship,
whence, as from a fortress, he could rain his missiles on the
enemy. To manage this ship he enlisted Homod and Thole the
rowers, the soils of Atyl the Skanian, one of whom was
instructed to act as steersman, while the other was to command
at the prow. Ring lacked neither skill nor. dexterity to
encounter them. For he showed only a small part of his forces,
and caused the enemy to be attacked on the rear. Omund, when
told of his strategy by Odd, sent men to overpower those
posted in ambush, telling Atyl the Skanian to encounter Ring.
The order was executed with more rashness than success; and
Atyl, with his power defeated and shattered, fled beaten to
Skaane. Then Omund recruited his forces with the help of Odd,
and drew up his fleet to fight on the open sea.
Atyl at this time had true visions of the
Norwegian war in his dreams, and started on his voyage in
order to make up for his flight as quickly as possible, and
delighted Omund by joining him on the eve of battle. Trusting
in his help, Omund began to fight with equal confidence and
success. For, by fighting himself, he retrieved the victory
which he had lost when his servants were engaged. Ring,
wounded to the death, gazed at him with faint eyes, and,
beckoning to him with his hand, as well as he could -- for his
voice failed him -- he besought him to be his son-in-law,
saying that he would gladly meet his end if he left his
daughter to such a husband. Before he could receive an answer
he died. Omund wept for his death, and gave Homod, whose
trusty help he had received in the war, in marriage to one of
the daughters of Ring, taking the other himself.
At the same time the amazon Rusla, whose
prowess in warfare exceeded the spirit of a woman, had many
fights in Norway with her brother, Thrond, for the
sovereignty. She could not endure that Omund rule over the
Norwegians, and she had declared war against all the subjects
of the Danes. Omund, when he heard of this, commissioned his
most active men to suppress the rising. Rusla conquered them,
and, waxing haughty on her triumph, was seized with
overweening hopes, and bent her mind upon actually acquiring
the sovereignty of Denmark. She began her attack on the region
of Halland, but was met by Homod and Thode, whom the king had
sent over. Beaten, she retreated to her fleet, of which only
thirty ships managed to escape, the rest being taken by the
enemy. Thrond encountered his sister as she was eluding the
Danes, but was conquered by her and stripped of his entire
army; he fled over the Dovrefjeld without a single companion.
Thus she, who had first yielded before the Danes, soon
overcame her brother, and turned her flight into a victory.
When Omund heard of this, he went back to Norway with a great
fleet, first sending Homod and Thole by a short and secret way
to rouse the people of Tellemark against the rule of Rusla.
The end was that she was driven out of her kingdom by the
commons, fled to the isles for safety, and turned her back,
without a blow, upon the Danes as they came up. The king
pursued her hotly, caught up her fleet on the sea, and utterly
destroyed it, the enemy suffered mightily, and he won a
bloodless victory and splendid spoils. But Rusla escaped with
a very few ships, and rowed ploughing the waves furiously;
but, while she was avoiding the Danes, she met her brother and
was killed. So much more effectual for harm are dangers
unsurmised; and chance sometimes makes the less alarming evil
worse than that which threatens. The king gave Thrond a
governorship for slaying his sister, put the rest under
tribute, and returned home.
At this time Thorias (?) and Ber (Biorn), the
most active of the soldiers of Rusla, were roving in Ireland;
but when they heard of the death of their mistress, whom they
had long ago sworn to avenge, they hotly attacked Omund, and
challenged him to a duel, which it used to be accounted
shameful for a king to refuse; for the fame of princes of old
was reckoned more by arms than by riches. So Homod and Thole
came forward, offering to meet in battle the men who had
challenged the king. Omund praised them warmly, but at first
declined for very shame to allow their help. At last, hard
besought by his people, he brought himself to try his fortune
by the hand of another. We are told that Ber fell in this
combat, while Thorias left the battle severely wounded. The
king, having first cured him of his wounds, took him into his
service, and made him prince (earl) over Norway. Then he sent
ambassadors to exact the usual tribute from the Sclavs; these
were killed, and he was even attacked in Jutland by a Sclavish
force; but he overcame seven kings in a single combat, and
ratified by conquest his accustomed right to tribute.
Meantime, Starkad, who was now worn out with
extreme age, and who seemed to be past military service and
the calling of a champion, was loth to lose his ancient glory
through the fault of eld, and thought it would be a noble
thing if he could make a voluntary end, and hasten his death
by his own free will. Having so often fought nobly, he thought
it would be mean to die a bloodless death; and, wishing to
enhance the glory of his past life by the lustre of his end,
he preferred to be slain by some man of gallant birth rather
than await the tardy shaft of nature. So shameful was it
thought that men devoted to war should die by disease. His
body was weak, and his eyes could not see clearly, so that he
hated to linger any more in life. In order to buy himself an
executioner, he wore hanging on his neck the gold which he had
earned for the murder of Ole; thinking there was no fitter way
of atoning for the treason he had done than to make the price
of Ole's death that of his own also, and to spend on the loss
of his own life what he had earned by the slaying of another.
This, he thought, would be the noblest use he could make of
that shameful price. So he girded him with two swords, and
guided his powerless steps leaning on two staves.
One of the common people, seeing him, thinking
two swords superfluous for the use of an old man, mockingly
asked him to make him a present of one of them. Starkad,
holding out hopes of consent, bade him come nearer, drew the
sword from his side, and ran him through. This was seen by a
certain Hather, whose father Hlenne Starkad had once killed in
repentance for his own impious crime. Hatfier was hunting game
with his dogs, but now gave over the chase, and bade two of
his companions spur their horses hard and charge at the old
man to frighten him. They galloped forward, and tried to make
off, but were stopped by the staves of Starkad, and paid for
it with their lives. Hather, terrified by the sight, galloped
up closer, and saw who the old man was, but without being
recognized by him in turn; and asked him if he would like to
exchange his sword for a carriage. Starkad replied that he
used in old days to chastise jeerers, and that the insolent
had never insulted him unpunished. But his sightless eyes
could not recognize the features of the youth; so he composed
a song, wherein he should declare the greatness of his anger,
as follows:
"As the unreturning waters sweep down the
channel; so, as the years run by, the life of man flows on
never to come back; fast gallops the cycle of doom, child of
old age who shall make an end of all. Old age smites alike the
eyes and the steps of men, robs the warrior of his speech and
soul, tarnishes his fame by slow degrees, and wipes out his
deeds of honour. It seizes his failing limbs, chokes his
panting utterance, and numbs his nimble wit. When a cough is
taken, when the skin itches with the scab, and the teeth are
numb and hollow, and the stomach turns squeamish, -- then old
age banishes the grace of youth, covers the complexion with
decay, and sows many a wrinkle in the dusky skin. Old age
crushes noble arts, brings down the memorials of men of old,
and scorches ancient glories up; shatters wealth, hungrily
gnaws away the worth and good of virtue, turns athwart and
disorders all things.
"I myself have felt the hurtful power of
injurious age, I, dim-sighted, and hoarse in my tones and in
my chest; and all helpful things have turned to my hurt. Now
my body is less nimble, and I prop it up, leaning my faint
limbs on the support of staves. Sightless I guide my steps
with two sticks, and follow the short path which the rod shows
me, trusting more in the leading of a stock than in my eyes.
None takes any charge of me, and no man in the ranks brings
comfort to the veteran, unless, perchance, Hather is here, and
succours his shattered friend. Whomsoever Hather once thinks
worthy of his duteous love, that man he attends continually
with even zeal, constant to his purpose, and fearing to break
his early ties. He also often pays fit rewards to those that
have deserved well in war, and fosters their courage; he
bestows dignities on the brave, and honours his famous friends
with gifts. Free with his wealth, he is fain to increase with
bounty the brightness of his name, and to surpass many of the
mighty. Nor is he less in war: his strength is equal to his
goodness; he is swift in the fray, slow to waver, ready to
give battle; and he cannot turn his back when the foe bears
him hard. But for me, if I remember right, fate appointed at
my birth that wars I should follow and in war I should die,
that I should mix in broils, watch in arms, and pass a life of
bloodshed. I was a man of camps, and rested not; hating peace,
I grew old under thy standard, O War-god, in utmost peril;
conquering fear, I thought it comely to fight, shameful to
loiter, and noble to kill and kill again, to be for ever
slaughtering! Oft have I seen the stern kings meet in war,
seen shield and helmet bruised, and the fields redden with
blood, and the cuirass broken by the spear-point, and the
corselets all around giving at the thrust of the steel, and
the wild beasts battening on the unburied soldier. Here, as it
chanced, one that attempted a mighty thing, a strong-handed
warrior, fighting against the press of the foe, smote through
the mail that covered my head, pierced my helmet, and plunged
his blade into my crest. This sword also hath often been
driven by my right hand in war, and, once unsheathed, hath
cleft the skin and bitten into the skull."
Hather, in answer, sang as follows:
"Whence comest thou, who art used to write the
poems of thy land, leaning thy wavering steps on a frail
staff? Or whither dost thou speed, who art the readiest bard
of the Danish muse? All the glory of thy great strength is
faded and lost; the hue is banished from thy face, the joy is
gone out of thy soul; the voice has left thy throat, and is
hoarse and dull; thy body has lost its former stature; the
decay of death begins, and has wasted thy features and thy
force. As a ship wearies, buffeted by continual billows, even
so old age, gendered by a long course of years, brings forth
bitter death; and the life falls when its strength is done,
and suffers the loss of its ancient lot. Famous old man, who
has told thee that thou mayst not duly follow the sports of
youth, or fling balls, or bite and eat the nut? I think it
were better for thee now to sell thy sword, and buy a carriage
wherein to ride often, or a horse easy on the bit, or at the
same cost to purchase a light cart. It will be more fitting
for beasts of burden to carry weak old men, when their steps
fail them; the wheel, driving round and round, serves for him
whose foot totters feebly. But if perchance thou art loth to
sell the useless steel, thy sword, if it be not for sale,
shall be taken from thee and shall slay thee."
Starkad answered: "Wretch, thy glib lips
scatter idle words, unfit for the ears of the good. Why seek
the gifts to reward that guidance, which thou shouldst have
offered for naught? Surely I will walk afoot, and will not
basely give up my sword and buy the help of a stranger; nature
has given me the right of passage, and hath bidden me trust in
my own feet. Why mock and jeer with insolent speech at him
whom thou shouldst have offered to guide upon his way? Why
give to dishonour my deeds of old, which deserve the memorial
of fame? Why requite my service with reproach? Why pursue with
jeers the old man mighty in battle, and put to shame my
unsurpassed honours and illustrious deeds, belittling my
glories and girding at my prowess? For what valour of thine
dost thou demand my sword, which thy strength does not
deserve? It befits not the right hand or the unwarlike side of
a herdsman, who is wont to make his peasant-music on the pipe,
to see to the flock, to keep the herds in the fields. Surely
among the henchmen, close to the greasy pot, thou dippest thy
crust in the bubbles of the foaming pan, drenching a meagre
slice in the rich, oily fat, and stealthily, with thirsty
finger, licking the warm juice; more skilled to spread thy
accustomed cloak on the ashes, to sleep on the hearth, and
slumber all day long, and go busily about the work of the
reeking kitchen, than to make the brave blood flow with thy
shafts in war. Men think thee a hater of the light and a lover
of a filthy hole, a wretched slave of thy belly, like a whelp
who licks the coarse grain, husk and all.
"By heaven, thou didst not try to rob me of my
sword when thrice at great peril I fought (for?) the son of
Ole. For truly, in that array, my hand either broke the sword
or shattered the obstacle, so heavy was the blow of the
smiter. What of the day when I first taught them, to run with
wood-shod feet over the shore of the Kurlanders, and the path
bestrewn with countless points? For when I was going to the
fields studded with calthrops, I guarded their wounded feet
with clogs below them. After this I slew Hame, who fought me
mightily; and soon, with the captain Rin the son of Flebak, I
crushed the Kurlanders, yea, or all the tribes Esthonia
breeds, and thy peoples, O Semgala! Then I attacked the men of
Tellemark, and took thence my head bloody with bruises,
shattered with mallets, and smitten with the welded weapons.
Here first I learnt how strong was the iron wrought on the
anvil, or what valour the common people had. Also it was my
doing that the Teutons were punished, when, in avenging my
lord, I laid low over their cups thy sons, O Swerting, who
were guilty of the wicked slaughter of Frode.
"Not less was the deed when, for the sake of a
beloved maiden, I slew nine brethren in one fray; -- witness
the spot, which was consumed by the bowels that left me, and
brings not forth the grain anew on its scorched sod. And soon,
when Ker the captain made ready a war by sea, with a noble
army we beat his serried ships. Then I put Waske to death, and
punished the insolent smith by slashing his hinder parts; and
with the sword I slew Wisin, who from the snowy rocks blunted
the spears. Then I slew the four sons of Ler, and the
champions of Permland; and then having taken the chief of the
Irish race, I rifled the wealth of Dublin; and our courage
shall ever remain manifest by the trophies of Bravalla. Why do
I linger? Countless are the deeds of my bravery, and when I
review the works of my hands I fail to number them to the
full. The whole is greater than I can tell. My work is too
great for fame, and speech serves not for my doings."
So sang Starkad. At last, when he found by
their talk that Hather was the son of Hlenne, and saw that the
youth was of illustrious birth, he offered him his throat to
smite, bidding him not to shrink from punishing the slayer of
his father. He promised him that if he did so he should
possess the gold which he had himself received from Hlenne.
And to enrage his heart more vehemently against him, he is
said to have harangued him as follows:
"Moreover, Hather, I robbed thee of thy father
Hlenne; requite me this, I pray, and strike down the old man
who longs to die; aim at my throat with the avenging steel.
For my soul chooses the service of a noble smiter, and shrinks
to ask its doom at a coward's hand. Righteously may a man
choose to forstall the ordinance of doom. What cannot be
escaped it will be lawful also to anticipate. The fresh tree
must be fostered, the old one hewn down. He is nature's
instrument who destroys what is near its doom and strikes down
what cannot stand. Death is best when it is sought: and when
the end is loved, life is wearisome. Let not the troubles of
age prolong a miserable lot."
So saying, he took money from his pouch and
gave it him. But Hather, desiring as much to enjoy the gold as
to accomplish vengeance for his father, promised that he would
comply with his prayer, and would not refuse the reward.
Starkad eagerly handed him the sword, and at once stooped his
neck beneath it, counselling him not to do the smiter's work
timidly, or use the sword like a woman; and telling him that
if, when he had killed him, he could spring between the head
and the trunk before the corpse fell, he would be rendered
proof against arms. It is not known whether he said this in
order to instruct his executioner or to punish him, for
perhaps, as he leapt, the bulk of the huge body would have
crushed him. So Hather smote sharply with the sword and hacked
off the head of the old man. When the severed head struck the
ground, it is said to have bitten the earth; thus the fury of
the dying lips declared the fierceness of the soul. But the
smiter, thinking that the promise hid some treachery, warily
refrained from leaping. Had he done so rashly, perhaps he
would have been crushed by the corpse as it fell, and have
paid with his own life for the old man's murder. But he would
not allow so great a champion to lie unsepulchred, and had his
body buried in the field that is commonly called Rolung.
Now Omund, as I have heard, died most
tranquilly, while peace was unbroken, leaving two sons and two
daughters. The eldest of these, SIWARD, came to the throne by
right of birth, while his brother Budle was still of tender
years. At this time Gotar, King of the Swedes, conceived
boundless love for one of the daughters of Omund, because of
the report of her extraordinary beauty, and entrusted one Ebb,
the son of Sibb, with the commission of asking for the maiden.
Ebb did his work skilfully, and brought back the good news
that the girl had consented. Nothing was now lacking to
Gotar's wishes but the wedding; but, as he feared to hold this
among strangers, he demanded that his betrothed should be sent
to him in charge of Ebb, whom he had before used as envoy.
Ebb was crossing Halland with a very small
escort, and went for a night's lodging to a country farm,
where the dwellings of two brothers faced one another on the
two sides of a river. Now these men used to receive folk
hospitably and then murder them, but were skilful to hide
their brigandage under a show of generosity. For they had hung
on certain hidden chains, in a lofty part of the house, an
oblong beam like a press, and furnished it with a steel point;
they used to lower this in the night by letting down the
fastenings, and cut off the heads of those that lay below.
Many had they beheaded in this way with the hanging mass. So
when Ebb and his men had been feasted abundantly, the servants
laid them out a bed near the hearth, so that by the swing of
the treacherous beam they might mow off their heads, which
faced the fire. When they departed, Ebb, suspecting the
contrivance slung overhead, told his men to feign slumber and
shift their bodies, saying that it would be very wholesome for
them to change their place.
Now among these were some who despised the
orders which the others obeyed, and lay unmoved, each in the
spot where he had chanced to lie down. Then towards the mirk
of night the heavy hanging machine was set in motion by the
doers of the treachery. Loosened from the knots of its
fastening, it fell violently on the ground, and slew those
beneath it. Thereupon those who had the charge of committing
the crime brought in a light, that they might learn clearly
what had happened, and saw that Ebb, on whose especial account
they had undertaken the affair, had wisely been equal to the
danger. He straightway set on them and punished them with
death; and also, after losing his men in the mutual slaughter,
he happened to find a vessel, crossed a river full of blocks
of ice, and announced to Gotar the result, not so much of his
mission as of his mishap.
Gotar judged that this affair had been inspired
by Siward, and prepared to avenge his wrongs by arms. Siward,
defeated by him in Halland, retreated into Jutland, the enemy
having taken his sister. Here he conquered the common people
of the Sclavs, who ventured to fight without a leader; and he
won as much honour from this victory as he had got disgrace by
his flight. But a little afterwards, the men whom he had
subdued when they were ungeneraled, found a general and
defeated Siward in Funen. Several times he fought them in
Jutland, but with ill-success. The result was that he lost
both Skaane and Jutland, and only retained the middle of his
realm without the head, like the fragments of some body that
had been consumed away. His son Jarmerik (Eormunrec), with his
child-sisters, fell into the hands of the enemy; one of these
was sold to the Germans, the other to the Norwegians; for in
old time marriages were matters of purchase. Thus the kingdom
of the Danes, which had been enlarged with such valour, made
famous by such ancestral honours, and enriched by so many
conquests, fell, all by the sloth of one man, from the most
illustrious fortune and prosperity into such disgrace that it
paid the tribute which it used to exact. But Siward, too often
defeated and guilty of shameful flights, could not endure,
after that glorious past, to hold the troubled helm of state
any longer in this shameful condition of his land; and,
fearing that living longer might strip him of his last shred
of glory, he hastened to win an honourable death in battle.
For his soul could not forget his calamity, it was fain to
cast off its sickness, and was racked with weariness of life.
So much did he abhor the light of life in his longing to wipe
out his shame. So he mustered his army for battle, and openly
declared war with one Simon, who was governor of Skaane under
Gotar. This war he pursued with stubborn rashness; he slew
Simon, and ended his own life amid a great slaughter of his
foes. Yet his country could not be freed from the burden of
the tribute.
Jarmerik, meantime, with his foster-brother of
the same age as himself, Gunn, was living in prison, in charge
of Ismar, the King of the Sclavs. At last he was taken out and
put to agriculture, doing the work of a peasant. So actively
did he manage this matter that he was transferred and made
master of the royal slaves. As he likewise did this business
most uprightly, he was enrolled in the band of the king's
retainers. Here he bore himself most pleasantly as courtiers
use, and was soon taken into the number of the king's friends
and obtained the first place in his intimacy; thus, on the
strength of a series of great services, he passed from the
lowest estate to the most distinguished height of honour.
Also, loth to live a slack and enfeebled youth, he trained
himself to the pursuits of war, enriching his natural gifts by
diligence. All men loved Jarmerik, and only the queen
mistrusted the young man's temper. A sudden report told them
that the king's brother had died. Ismar, wishing to give his
body a splendid funeral, prepared a banquet of royal bounty to
increase the splendour of the obsequies.
But Jarmerik, who used at other times to look
after the household affairs together with the queen, began to
cast about for means of escape; for a chance seemed to be
offered by the absence of the king. For he saw that even in
the lap of riches he would be the wretched thrall of a king,
and that he would draw, as it were, his very breath on
sufferance and at the gift of another. Moreover, though he
held the highest offices with the king, he thought that
freedom was better than delights, and burned with a mighty
desire to visit his country and learn his lineage. But,
knowing that the queen had provided sufficient guards to see
that no prisoner escaped, he saw that he must approach by
craft where he could not arrive by force. So he plaited one of
those baskets of rushes and withies, shaped like a man, with
which countrymen used to scare the birds from the corn, and
put a live dog in it; then he took off his own clothes, and
dressed it in them, to give a more plausible likeness to a
human being. Then he broke into the private treasury of the
king, took out the money, and hid himself in places of which
he alone knew.
Meantime Gunn, whom he had told to conceal the
absence of his friend, took the basket into the palace and
stirred up the dog to bark; and when the queen asked what this
was, he answered that Jarmerik was out of his mind and
howling. She, beholding the effigy, was deceived by the
likeness, and ordered that the madman should be cast out of
the house. Then Gunn took the effigy out and put it to bed, as
though it were his distraught friend. But towards night he
plied the watch bountifully with wine and festal mirth, cut
off their heads as they slept, and set them at their groins,
in order to make their slaying more shameful. The queen,
roused by the din, and wishing to learn the reason of it,
hastily rushed to the doors. But while she unwarily put forth
her head, the sword of Gunn suddenly pierced her through.
Feeling a mortal wound, she sank, turned her eyes on her
murderer, and said, "Had it been granted me to live unscathed,
no screen or treachery should have let thee leave this land
unpunished." A flood of such threats against her slayer poured
from her dying lips.
Then Jarmerik, with Gunn, the partner of his
noble deed, secretly set fire to the tent wherein the king was
celebrating with a banquet the obsequies of his brother; all
the company were overcome with liquor. The fire filled the
tent and spread all about; and some of them, shaking off the
torpor of drink, took horse and pursued those who had
endangered them. But the young men fled at first on the beasts
they had taken; and at last, when these were exhausted with
their long gallop, took to flight on foot. They were all but
caught, when a river saved them. For they crossed a bridge, of
which, in order to delay the pursuer, they first cut the
timbers down to the middle, thus making it not only unequal to
a burden, but ready to come down; then they retreated into a
dense morass.
The Sclavs pressed on them hard and, not
forseeing the danger, unwarily put the weight of their horses
on the bridge; the flooring sank, and they were shaken off and
flung into the river. But, as they swam up to the bank, they
were met by Gunn and Jarmerik, and either drowned or slain.
Thus the young men showed great cunning, and did a deed beyond
their years, being more like sagacious old men than runaway
slaves, and successfully achieving their shrewd design. When
they reached the strand they seized a vessel chance threw in
their way, and made for the deep. The barbarians who pursued
them, tried, when they saw them sailing off, to bring them
back by shouting promises after them that they should be kings
if they returned; "for, by the public statute of the ancients,
the succession was appointed to the slayers of the kings." As
they retreated, their ears were long deafened by the Sclavs
obstinately shouting their treacherous promises.
At this time BUDLE, the brother of Siward, was
Regent over the Danes, who forced him to make over the kingdom
to JARMERIK when he came; so that Budle fell from a king into
a common man. At the same time Gotar charged Sibb with
debauching his sister, and slew him. Sibb's kindred, much
angered by his death, came wailing to Jarmerik, and promised
to attack Gotar with him, in order to avenge their kinsman.
They kept their promise well, for Jarmerik, having overthrown
Gotar by their help, gained Sweden. Thus, holding the
sovereignty of both nations, he was encouraged by his
increased power to attack the Sclavs, forty of whom he took
and hung with a wolf tied to each of them. This kind of
punishment was assigned of old to those who slew their own
kindred; but he chose to inflict it upon enemies, that all
might see plainly, just from their fellowship with ruthless
beasts, how grasping they had shown themselves towards the
Danes.
When Jarmerik had conquered the country, he
posted garrisons in all the fitting places, and departing
thence, he made a slaughter of the Sembs and the Kurlanders,
and many nations of the East. The Sclavs, thinking that this
employment of the king gave them a chance of revolting, killed
the governors whom he had appointed, and ravaged Denmark.
Jarmerik, on his way back from roving, chanced to intercept
their fleet, and destroyed it, a deed which added honour to
his roll of conquests. He also put their nobles to death in a
way that one would weep to see; namely, by first passing
thongs through their legs, and then tying them to the hoofs of
savage bulls; then hounds set on them and dragged them into
miry swamps. This deed took the edge off the valour of the
Sclavs, and they obeyed the authority of the king in fear and
trembling.
Jarmerik, enriched with great spoils, wished to
provide a safe storehouse for his booty, and built on a lofty
hill a treasure- house of marvellous handiwork. Gathering
sods, he raised a mound, laying a mass of rocks for the
foundation, and girt the lower part with a rampart, the centre
with rooms, and the top with battlements. All round he posted
a line of sentries without a break. Four huge gates gave free
access on the four sides; and into this lordly mansion he
heaped all his splendid riches. Having thus settled his
affairs at home, he again turned his ambition abroad. He began
to voyage, and speedily fought a naval battle with four
brothers whom he met on the high seas, Hellespontines by race,
and veteran rovers. After this battle had lasted three days,
he ceased fighting, having bargained for their sister and half
the tribute which they had imposed on those they had
conquered.
After this, Bikk, the son of the King of the
Livonians, escaped from the captivity in which he lay under
these said brothers, and went to Jarmerik. But he did not
forget his wrongs, Jarmerik having long before deprived him of
his own brothers. He was received kindly by the king, in all
whose secret counsels he soon came to have a notable voice;
and, as soon as he found the king pliable to his advice in all
things, he led him, when his counsel was asked, into the most
abominable acts, and drove him to commit crimes and infamies.
Thus he sought some device to injure the king by a feint of
loyalty, and tried above all to steel him against his nearest
of blood; attempting to accomplish the revenge of his brother
by guile, since he could not by force. So it came to pass that
the king embraced filthy vices instead of virtues, and made
himself generally hated by the cruel deeds which he committed
at the instance of his treacherous adviser. Even the Sclavs
began to rise against him; and, as a means of quelling them,
he captured their leaders, passed a rope through their shanks,
and delivered them to be torn asunder by horses pulling
different ways. So perished their chief men, punished for
their stubbornness of spirit by having their bodies rent
apart. This kept the Sclavs duly obedient in unbroken and
steady subjugation.
Meantime, the sons of Jarmerik's sister, who
had all been born and bred in Germany, took up arms, on the
strength of their grandsire's title, against their uncle,
contending that they had as good a right to the throne as he.
The king demolished their strongholds in Germany with engines,
blockaded or took several towns, and returned home with a
bloodless victory. The Hellespontines came to meet him,
proffering their sister for the promised marriage. After this
had been celebrated, at Bikk's prompting he again went to
Germany, took his nephews in war, and incontinently hanged
them. He also got together the chief men under the pretence of
a banquet and had them put to death in the same fashion.
Meantime, the king appointed Broder, his son by
another marriage, to have charge over his stepmother, a duty
which he fulfilled with full vigilance and integrity. But Bikk
accused this man to his father of incest; and, to conceal the
falsehood of the charge, suborned witnesses against him. When
the plea of the accusation had been fully declared, Broder
could not bring any support for his defence, and his father
bade his friends pass sentence upon the convicted man,
thinking it less impious to commit the punishment proper for
his son to the judgment of others. All thought that he
deserved outlawry except Bikk, who did not shrink from giving
a more terrible vote against his life, and declaring that the
perpetrator of an infamous seduction ought to be punished with
hanging. But lest any should think that this punishment was
due to the cruelty of his father, Bikk judged that, when he
had been put in the noose, the servants should hold him up on
a beam put beneath him, so that, when weariness made them take
their hands from the burden, they might be as good as guilty
of the young man's death, and by their own fault exonerate the
king from an unnatural murder. He also pretended that, unless
the accused were punished, he would plot against his father's
life. The adulteress Swanhild, he said, ought to suffer a
shameful end, trampled under the hoofs of beasts.
The king yielded to Bikk; and, when his son was
to be hanged, he made the bystanders hold him up by means of a
plank, that he might not be choked. Thus his throat was only a
little squeezed, the knot was harmless, and it was but a
punishment in show. But the king had the queen tied very tight
on the ground, and delivered her to be crushed under the hoofs
of horses. The story goes that she was so beautiful, that even
the beasts shrank from mangling limbs so lovely with their
filthy feet. The king, divining that this proclaimed the
innocence of his wife, began to repent of his error, and
hastened to release the slandered lady. But meantime Bikk
rushed up, declaring that when she was on her back she held
off the beasts by awful charms, and could only be crushed if
she lay on her face; for he knew that her beauty saved her.
When the body of the queen was placed in this manner, the herd
of beasts was driven upon it, and trod it down deep with their
multitude of feet. Such was the end of Swanhild.
Meantime, the favourite dog of Broder came
creeping to the king making a sort of moan, and seemed to
bewail its master's punishment; and his hawk, when it was
brought in, began to pluck out its breast-feathers with its
beak. The king took its nakedness as an omen of his
bereavement, to frustrate which he quickly sent men to take
his son down from the noose: for he divined by the featherless
bird that he would be childless unless he took good heed. Thus
Broder was freed from death, and Bikk, fearing he would pay
the penalty of an informer, went and told the men of the
Hellespont that Swanhild had been abominably slain by her
husband. When they set sail to avenge their sister, he came
back to Jarmerik, and told him that the Hellespontines were
preparing war.
The king thought that it would be safer to
fight with walls than in the field, and retreated into the
stronghold which he had built. To stand the siege, he filled
its inner parts with stores, and its battlements with
men-at-arms. Targets and shields flashing with gold were hung
round and adorned the topmost circle of the building.
It happened that the Hellespontines, before
sharing their booty, accused a great band of their men of
embezzling, and put them to death. Having now destroyed so
large a part of their forces by internecine slaughter, they
thought that their strength was not equal to storming the
palace, and consulted a sorceress named Gudrun. She brought it
to pass that the defenders of the king's side were suddenly
blinded and turned their arms against one another. When the
Hellespontines saw this, they brought up a shield-mantlet, and
seized the approaches of the gates. Then they tore up the
posts, burst into the building, and hewed down the blinded
ranks of the enemy. In this uproar Odin appeared, and, making
for the thick of the ranks of the fighters, restored by his
divine power to the Danes that vision which they had lost by
sleights; for he ever cherished them with fatherly love. He
instructed them to shower stones to batter the Hellespontines,
who used spells to harden their bodies against weapons. Thus
both companies slew one another and perished. Jarmerik lost
both feet and both hands, and his trunk was rolled among the
dead. BRODER, little fit for it, followed him as king.
The next king was SIWALD. His son SNIO took
vigorously to roving in his father's old age, and not only
preserved the fortunes of his country, but even restored them,
lessened as they were, to their former estate. Likewise, when
he came to the sovereignty, he crushed the insolence of the
champions Eskil and Alkil, and by this conquest reunited to
his country Skaane, which had been severed from the general
jurisdiction of Denmark. At last he conceived a passion for
the daughter of the King of the Goths; it was returned, and he
sent secret messengers to seek a chance of meeting her. These
men were intercepted by the father of the damsel and hanged:
thus paying dearly for their rash mission. Snio, wishing to
avenge their death, invaded Gothland. Its king met him with
his forces, and the aforesaid champions challenged him to send
strong men to fight. Snio laid down as condition of the duel,
that each of the two kings should either lose his own empire
or gain that of the other, according to the fortune of the
champions, and that the kingdom of the conquered should be
staked as the prize of the victory. The result was that the
King of the Goths was beaten by reason of the ill-success of
his defenders, and had to quit his kingdom for the Danes.
Snio, learning that this king's daughter had been taken away
at the instance of her father to wed the King of the Swedes,
sent a man clad in ragged attire, who used to ask alms on the
public roads, to try her mind. And while he lay, as beggars
do, by the threshold, he chanced to see the queen, and whined
in a weak voice, "Snio loves thee." She feigned not to have
heard the sound that stole on her ears, and neither looked nor
stepped back, but went on to the palace, then returned
straightway, and said in a low whisper, which scarcely reached
his ears, "I love him who loves me"; and having said this she
walked away.
The beggar rejoiced that she had returned a
word of love, and, as he sat on the next day at the gate, when
the queen came up, he said, briefly as ever, "Wishes should
have a tryst." Again she shrewdly caught his cunning speech,
and passed on, dissembling wholly. A little later she passed
by her questioner, and said that she would shortly go to
Bocheror; for this was the spot to which she meant to flee.
And when the beggar heard this, he insisted, with his wonted
shrewd questions, upon being told a fitting time for the
tryst. The woman was as cunning as he, and as little clear of
speech, and named as quickly as she could the beginning of the
winter.
Her train, who had caught a flying word of this
love-message, took her great cleverness for the raving of
utter folly. And when Snio had been told all this by the
beggar, he contrived to carry the queen off in a vessel; for
she got away under pretence of bathing, and took her husband's
treasures. After this there were constant wars between Snio
and the King of Sweden, whereof the issue was doubtful and the
victory changeful; the one king seeking to regain his lawful,
the other to keep his unlawful love.
At this time the yield of crops was ruined by
most inclement weather, and a mighty dearth of corn befell.
Victuals began to be scarce, and the commons were distressed
with famine, so that the king, anxiously pondering how to
relieve the hardness of the times, and seeing that the thirsty
spent somewhat more than the hungry, introduced thrift among
the people. He abolished drinking-bouts, and decreed that no
drink should be prepared from gram, thinking that the bitter
famine should be got rid of by prohibiting needless drinking,
and that plentiful food could be levied as a loan on thirst.
Then a certain wanton slave of his belly,
lamenting the prohibition against drink, adopted a deep kind
of knavery, and found a new way to indulge his desires. He
broke the public law of temperance by his own excess,
contriving to get at what he loved by a device both cunning
and absurd. For he sipped the forbidden liquor drop by drop,
and so satisfied his longing to be tipsy. When he was summoned
for this by the king, he declared that there was no stricter
observer of sobriety than he, inasmuch as he mortified his
longing to quaff deep by this device for moderate drinking. He
persisted in the fault with which he was taxed, saying that he
only sucked. At last he was also menaced with threats, and
forbidden not only to drink, but even to sip; yet he could not
check his habits. For in order to enjoy the unlawful thing in
a lawful way, and not to have his throat subject to the
command of another, he sopped morsels of bread in liquor, and
fed on the pieces thus soaked with drink; tasting slowly, so
as to prolong the desired debauch, and attaining, though in no
unlawful manner, the forbidden measure of satiety.
Thus his stubborn and frantic intemperance
risked his life, all for luxury; and, undeterred even by the
threats of the king, he fortified his rash appetite to despise
every peril. A second time he was summoned by the king on the
charge of disobeying his regulation. Yet he did not even theft
cease to defend his act, but maintained that he had in no wise
contravened the royal decree, and that the temperance
prescribed by the ordinance had been in no way violated by
that which allured him; especially as the thrift ordered in
the law of plain living was so described, that it was
apparently forbidden to drink liquor, but not to eat it. Then
the king called heaven to witness, and swore by the general
good, that if he ventured on any such thing hereafter he would
punish him with death. But the man thought that death was not
so bad as temperance, and that it was easier to quit life than
luxury; and he again boiled the grain in water, and then
fermented the liquor; whereupon, despairing of any further
plea to excuse his appetite, he openly indulged in drink, and
turned to his cups again unabashed. Giving up cunning for
effrontery, he chose rather to await the punishment of the
king than to turn sober. Therefore, when the king asked him
why he had so often made free to use the forbidden thing, he
said:
"O king, this craving is begotten, not so much
of my thirst, as of my goodwill towards thee! For I remembered
that the funeral rites of a king must be paid with a
drinking-bout. Therefore, led by good judgment more than the
desire to swill, I have, by mixing the forbidden liquid, taken
care that the feast whereat thy obsequies are performed should
not, by reason of the scarcity of corn, lack the due and
customary drinking. Now I do not doubt that thou wilt perish
of famine before the rest, and be the first to need a tomb;
for thou hast passed this strange law of thrift in fear that
thou wilt be thyself the first to lack food. Thou art thinking
for thyself, and not for others, when thou bringest thyself to
start such strange miserly ways."
This witty quibbling turned the anger of the
king into shame; and when he saw that his ordinance for the
general good came home in mockery to himself, he thought no
more of the public profit, but revoked the edict, relaxing his
purpose sooner than anger his subjects.
Whether it was that the soil had too little
rain, or that it was too hard baked, the crops, as I have
said, were slack, and the fields gave but little produce; so
that the land lacked victual, and was worn with a weary
famine. The stock of food began to fail, and no help was left
to stave off hunger. Then, at the proposal of Agg and of Ebb,
it was provided by a decree of the people that the old men and
the tiny children should be slain; that all who were too young
to bear arms should be taken out of the land, and only the
strong should be vouchsafed their own country; that none but
able-bodied soldiers and husbandmen should continue to abide
under their own roofs and in the houses of their fathers. When
Agg and Ebb brought news of this to their mother Gambaruk, she
saw that the authors of this infamous decree had found safety
in crime. Condemning the decision of the assembly, she said
that it was wrong to relieve distress by murder of kindred,
and declared that a plan both more honourable and more
desirable for the good of their souls and bodies would be, to
preserve respect towards their parents and children, and
choose by lot men who should quit the country. And if the lot
fell on old men and weak, then the stronger should offer to go
into exile in their place, and should of their own free will
undertake to bear the burden of it for the feeble. But those
men who had the heart to save their lives by crime and
impiety, and to prosecute their parents and their children by
so abominable a decree, did not deserve life; for they would
be doing a work of cruelty and not of love. Finally, all those
whose own lives were dearer to them than the love of their
parents or their children, deserved but ill of their country.
These words were reported to the assembly, and assented to by
the vote of the majority. So the fortunes of all were staked
upon the lot and those upon whom it fell were doomed to be
banished. Thus those who had been loth to obey necessity of
their own accord had now to accept the award of chance. So
they sailed first to Bleking, and then, sailing past Moring,
they came to anchor at Gothland; where, according to Paulus,
they are said to have been prompted by the goddess Frigg to
take the name of the Longobardi (Lombards), whose nation they
afterwards founded. In the end they landed at Rugen, and,
abandoning their ships, began to march overland. They crossed
and wasted a great portion of the world; and at last, finding
an abode in Italy, changed the ancient name of the nation for
their own.
Meanwhile, the land of the Danes, where the
tillers laboured less and less, and all traces of the furrows
were covered with overgrowth, began to look like a forest.
Almost stripped of its pleasant native turf, it bristled with
the dense unshapely woods that grew up. Traces of this are yet
seen in the aspect of its fields. What were once acres fertile
in grain are now seen to be dotted with trunks of trees; and
where of old the tillers turned the earth up deep and
scattered the huge clods there has now sprung up a forest
covering the fields, which still bear the tracks of ancient
tillage. Had not these lands remained untilled and desolate
with long overgrowth, the tenacious roots of trees could never
have shared the soil of one and the same land with the furrows
made by the plough. Moreover, the mounds which men laboriously
built up of old on the level ground for the burial of the dead
are now covered by a mass of woodland. Many piles of stones
are also to be seen interspersed among the forest glades.
These were once scattered over the whole country, but the
peasants carefully gathered the boulders and piled them into a
heap that they might not prevent furrows being cut in all
directions; for they would sooner sacrifice a little of the
land than find the whole of it stubborn. From this work, done
by the toil of the peasants for the easier working of the
fields, it is judged that the population in ancient times was
greater than the present one, which is satisfied with small
fields, and keeps its agriculture within narrower limits than
those of the ancient tillage. Thus the present generation is
amazed to behold that it has exchanged a soil which could once
produce grain for one only fit to grow acorns, and the
plough-handle and the cornstalks for a landscape studded with
trees. Let this account of Snio, which I have put together as
truly as I could, suffice.
Snio was succeeded by BIORN; and after him
HARALD became sovereign. Harald's son GORM won no mean place
of honour among the ancient generals of the Danes by his
record of doughty deeds. For he ventured into fresh fields,
preferring to practise his inherited valour, not in war, but
in searching the secrets of nature; and, just as other kings
are stirred by warlike ardour, so his heart thirsted to look
into marvels; either what he could experience himself, or what
were merely matters of report. And being desirous to go and
see all things foreign and extraordinary, he thought that he
must above all test a report which he had heard from the men
of Thule concerning the abode of a certain Geirrod. For they
boasted past belief of the mighty piles of treasure in that
country, but said that the way was beset with peril, and
hardly passable by mortal man. For those who had tried it
declared that it was needful to sail over the ocean that goes
round the lands, to leave the sun and stars behind, to journey
down into chaos, and at last to pass into a land where no
light was and where darkness reigned eternally.
But the warrior trampled down in his soul all
fear of the dangers that beset him. Not that he desired booty,
but glory; for he hoped for a great increase of renown if he
ventured on a wholly unattempted quest. Three hundred men
announced that they had the same desire as the king; and he
resolved that Thorkill, who had brought the news, should be
chosen to guide them on the journey, as he knew the ground and
was versed in the approaches to that country. Thorkill did not
refuse the task, and advised that, to meet the extraordinary
fury of the sea they had to cross, strongly-made vessels
should be built, fitted with many knotted cords and close-set
nails, filled with great store of provision, and covered above
with ox-hides to protect the inner spaces of the ships from
the spray of the waves breaking in. Then they sailed off in
only three galleys, each containing a hundred chosen men.
Now when they had come to Halogaland
(Helgeland), they lost their favouring breezes, and were
driven and tossed divers ways over the seas in perilous
voyage. At last, in extreme want of food, and lacking even
bread, they staved off hunger with a little pottage. Some days
passed, and they heard the thunder of a storm brawling in the
distance, as if it were deluging the rocks. By this perceiving
that land was near, they bade a youth of great nimbleness
climb to the masthead and look out; and he reported that a
precipitous island was in sight. All were overjoyed, and gazed
with thirsty eyes at the country at which he pointed, eagerly
awaiting the refuge of the promised shore. At last they
managed to reach it, and made their way out over the heights
that blocked their way, along very steep paths, into the
higher ground. Then Thorkill told them to take no more of the
herds that were running about in numbers on the coast, than
would serve once to appease their hunger. If they disobeyed,
the guardian gods of the spot would not let them depart. But
the seamen, more anxious to go on filling their bellies than
to obey orders, postponed counsels of safety to the
temptations of gluttony, and loaded the now emptied holds of
their ships with the carcases of slaughtered cattle. These
beasts were very easy to capture, because they gathered in
amazement at the unwonted sight of men, their fears being made
bold. On the following night monsters dashed down upon the
shore, filled the forest with clamour, and beleaguered and
beset the ships. One of them, huger than the rest, strode over
the waters, armed with a mighty club. Coming close up to them,
he bellowed out that they should never sail away till they had
atoned for the crime they had committed in slaughtering the
flock, and had made good the losses of the herd of the gods by
giving up one man for each of their ships. Thorkill yielded to
these threats; and, in order to preserve the safety of all by
imperilling a few, singled out three men by lot and gave them
up.
This done, a favouring wind took them, and they
sailed to further Permland. It is a region of eternal cold,
covered with very deep snows, and not sensible to the force
even of the summer heats; full of pathless forests, not
fertile in grain and haunted by beasts uncommon elsewhere. Its
many rivers pour onwards in a hissing, foaming flood, because
of the reefs imbedded in their channels.
Here Thorkill drew up his ships ashore, and
bade them pitch their tents on the beach, declaring that they
had come to a spot whence the passage to Geirrod would be
short. Moreover, he forbade them to exchange any speech with
those that came up to them, declaring that nothing enabled the
monsters to injure strangers so much as uncivil words on their
part: it would be therefore safer for his companions to keep
silence; none but he, who had seen all the manners and customs
of this nation before, could speak safely. As twilight
approached, a man of extraordinary bigness greeted the sailors
by their names, and came among them. All were aghast, but
Thorkill told them to greet his arrival cheerfully, telling
them that this was Gudmund, the brother of Geirrod, and the
most faithful guardian in perils of all men who landed in that
spot. When the man asked why all the rest thus kept silence,
he answered that they were very unskilled in his language, and
were ashamed to use a speech they did not know. Then Gudmund
invited them to be his guests, and took them up in carriages.
As they went forward, they saw a river which could be crossed
by a bridge of gold. They wished to go over it, but Gudmund
restrained them, telling them that by this channel nature had
divided the world of men from the world of monsters, and that
no mortal track might go further. Then they reached the
dwelling of their guide; and here Thorkill took his companions
apart and warned them to behave like men of good counsel
amidst the divers temptations chance might throw in their way;
to abstain from the food of the stranger, and nourish their
bodies only on their own; and to seek a seat apart from the
natives, and have no contact with any of them as they lay at
meat. For if they partook of that food they would lose
recollection of all things, and must live for ever in filthy
intercourse amongst ghastly hordes of monsters. Likewise he
told them that they must keep their hands off the servants and
the cups of the people.
Round the table stood twelve noble sons of
Gudmund, and as many daughters of notable beauty. When Gudmund
saw that the king barely tasted what his servants brought, he
reproached him with repulsing his kindness, and complained
that it was a slight on the host. But Thorkill was not at a
loss for a fitting excuse. He reminded him that men who took
unaccustomed food often suffered from it seriously, and that
the king was not ungrateful for the service rendered by
another, but was merely taking care of his health, when he
refreshed himself as he was wont, and furnished his supper
with his own viands. An act, therefore, that was only done in
the healthy desire to escape some bane, ought in no wise to be
put down to scorn. Now when Gudmund saw that the temperance of
his guest had baffled his treacherous preparations, he
determined to sap their chastity, if he could not weaken their
abstinence, and eagerly strained every nerve of his wit to
enfeeble their self-control. For he offered the king his
daughter in marriage, and promised the rest that they should
have whatever women of his household they desired. Most of
them inclined to his offer: but Thorkill by his healthy
admonitions prevented them, as he had done before, from
falling into temptation.
With wonderful management Thorkill divided his
heed between the suspicious host and the delighted guests.
Four of the Danes, to whom lust was more than their salvation,
accepted the offer; the infection maddened them, distraught
their wits, and blotted out their recollection: for they are
said never to have been in their right mind after this. If
these men had kept themselves within the rightful bounds of
temperance, they would have equalled the glories of Hercules,
surpassed with their spirit the bravery of giants, and been
ennobled for ever by their wondrous services to their country.
Gudmund, stubborn to his purpose, and still
spreading his nets, extolled the delights of his garden, and
tried to lure the king thither to gather fruits, desiring to
break down his constant wariness by the lust of the eye and
the baits of the palate. The king, as before, was strengthened
against these treacheries by Thorkill, and rejected this feint
of kindly service; he excused himself from accepting it on the
plea that he must hasten on his journey. Gudmund perceived
that Thorkill was shrewder than he at every point; so,
despairing to accomplish his treachery, he carried them all
across the further side of the river, and let them finish
their journey.
They went on; and saw, not far off, a gloomy,
neglected town, looking more like a cloud exhaling vapour.
Stakes interspersed among the battlements showed the severed
heads of warriors and dogs of great ferocity were seen
watching before the doors to guard the entrance. Thorkill
threw them a horn smeared with fat to lick, and so, at slight
cost, appeased their most furious rage. High up the gates lay
open to enter, and they climbed to their level with ladders,
entering with difficulty. Inside the town was crowded with
murky and misshapen phantoms, and it was hard to say whether
their shrieking figures were more ghastly to the eye or to the
ear; everything was foul, and the reeking mire afflicted the
nostrils of the visitors with its unbearable stench. Then they
found the rocky dwelling which Geirrod was rumoured to inhabit
for his palace. They resolved to visit its narrow and horrible
ledge, but stayed their steps and halted in panic at the very
entrance. Then Thorkill, seeing that they were of two minds,
dispelled their hesitation to enter by manful encouragement,
counselling them, to restrain themselves, and not to touch any
piece of gear in the house they were about to enter, albeit it
seemed delightful to have or pleasant to behold; to keep their
hearts as far from all covetousness as from fear; neither to
desire what was pleasant to take, nor dread what was awful to
look upon, though they should find themselves amidst abundance
of both these things. If they did, their greedy hands would
suddenly be bound fast, unable to tear themselves away from
the thing they touched, and knotted up with it as by
inextricable bonds. Moreover, they should enter in order, four
by four.
Broder and Buchi (Buk?) were the first to show
courage to attempt to enter the vile palace; Thorkill with the
king followed them, and the rest advanced behind these in
ordered ranks.
Inside, the house was seen to be ruinous
throughout, and filled with a violent and abominable reek. And
it also teemed with everything that could disgust the eye or
the mind: the door-posts were begrimed with the soot of ages,
the wall was plastered with filth, the roof was made up of
spear-heads, the flooring was covered with snakes and
bespattered with all manner of uncleanliness. Such an unwonted
sight struck terror into the strangers, and, over all, the
acrid and incessant stench assailed their afflicted nostrils.
Also bloodless phantasmal monsters huddled on the iron seats,
and the places for sitting were railed off by leaden
trellises; and hideous doorkeepers stood at watch on the
thresholds. Some of these, armed with clubs lashed together,
yelled, while others played a gruesome game, tossing a goat's
hide from one to the other with mutual motion of goatish
backs.
Here Thorkill again warned the men, and forbade
them to stretch forth their covetous hands rashly to the
forbidden things. Going on through the breach in the crag,
they beheld an old man with his body pierced through, sitting
not far off, on a lofty seat facing the side of the rock that
had been rent away. Moreover, three women, whose bodies were
covered with tumours, and who seemed to have lost the strength
of their back-bones, filled adjoining seats. Thorkill's
companions were very curious; and he, who well knew the reason
of the matter, told them that long ago the god Thor had been
provoked by the insolence of the giants to drive red-hot irons
through the vitals of Geirrod, who strove with him, and that
the iron had slid further, torn up the mountain, and battered
through its side; while the women had been stricken by the
might of his thunderbolts, and had been punished (so he
declared) for their attempt on the same deity, by having their
bodies broken.
As the men were about to depart thence, there
were disclosed to them seven butts hooped round with belts of
gold; and from these hung circlets of silver entwined with
them in manifold links. Near these was found the tusk of a
strange beast, tipped at both ends with gold. Close by was a
vast stag-horn, laboriously decked with choice and flashing
gems, and this also did not lack chasing. Hard by was to be
seen a very heavy bracelet. One man was kindled with an
inordinate desire for this bracelet, and laid covetous hands
upon the gold, not knowing that the glorious metal covered
deadly mischief, and that a fatal bane lay hid under the
shining spoil. A second also, unable to restrain his
covetousness, reached out his quivering hands to the horn. A
third, matching the confidence of the others, and having no
control over his fingers, ventured to shoulder the tusk. The
spoil seemed alike lovely to look upon and desirable to enjoy,
for all that met the eye was fair and tempting to behold. But
the bracelet suddenly took the form of a snake, and attacked
him who was carrying it with its poisoned tooth; the horn
lengthened out into a serpent, and took the life of the man
who bore it; the tusk wrought itself into a sword, and plunged
into the vitals of its bearer.
The rest dreaded the fate of perishing with
their friends, and thought that the guiltless would be
destroyed like the guilty; they durst not hope that even
innocence would be safe. Then the side-door of another room
showed them a narrow alcove: and a privy chamber with a yet
richer treasure was revealed, wherein arms were laid out too
great for those of human stature. Among these were seen a
royal mantle, a handsome hat, and a belt marvellously wrought.
Thorkill, struck with amazement at these things, gave rein to
his covetousness, and cast off all his purposed
self-restraint. He who so oft had trained others could not so
much as conquer his own cravings. For he laid his hand upon
the mantle, and his rash example tempted the rest to join in
his enterprise of plunder. Thereupon the recess shook from its
lowest foundations, and began suddenly to reel and totter.
Straightway the women raised a shriek that the wicked robbers
were being endured too long. Then they, who were before
supposed to be half-dead or lifeless phantoms, seemed to obey
the cries of the women, and, leaping suddenly up from their
seats, attacked the strangers with furious onset. The other
creatures bellowed hoarsely.
But Broder and Buchi fell to their old and
familiar arts, and attacked the witches, who ran at them, with
a shower of spears from every side; and with the missiles from
their bows and slings they crushed the array of monsters.
There could be no stronger or more successful way to repulse
them; but only twenty men out of all the king's company were
rescued by the intervention of this archery; the rest were
torn in pieces by the monsters. The survivors returned to the
river, and were ferried over by Gudmund, who entertained them
at his house. Long and often as he besought them, he could not
keep them back; so at last he gave them presents and let them
go.
Buchi relaxed his watch upon himself; his
self-control became unstrung, and he forsook the virtue in
which he hitherto rejoiced. For he conceived an incurable love
for one of the daughters of Gudmund, and embraced her; but he
obtained a bride to his undoing, for soon his brain suddenly
began to whirl, and he lost his recollection. Thus the hero
who had subdued all the monsters and overcome all the perils
was mastered by passion for one girl; his soul strayed far
from temperance, and he lay under a wretched sensual yoke. For
the sake of respect, he started to accompany the departing
king; but as he was about to ford the river in his carriage,
his wheels sank deep, he was caught up in the violent eddies
and destroyed.
The king bewailed his friend's disaster and
departed hastening on his voyage. This was at first
prosperous, but afterwards he was tossed by bad weather; his
men perished of hunger, and but few survived, so that he began
to feel awe in his heart, and fell to making vows to heaven,
thinking the gods alone could help him in his extreme need. At
last the others besought sundry powers among the gods, and
thought they ought to sacrifice to the majesty of divers
deities; but the king, offering both vows and peace-offerings
to Utgarda-Loki, obtained that fair season of weather for
which he prayed.
Coming home, and feeling that he had passed
through all these seas and toils, he thought it was time for
his spirit, wearied with calamities, to withdraw from his
labours. So he took a queen from Sweden, and exchanged his old
pursuits for meditative leisure. His life was prolonged in the
utmost peace and quietness; but when he had almost come to the
end of his days, certain men persuaded him by likely arguments
that souls were immortal; so that he was constantly turning
over in his mind the questions, to what abode he was to fare
when the breath left his limbs, or what reward was earned by
zealous adoration of the gods.
While he was thus inclined, certain men who
wished ill to Thorkill came and told Gorm that it was needful
to consult the gods, and that assurance about so great a
matter must be sought of the oracles of heaven, since it was
too deep for human wit and hard for mortals to discover.
Therefore, they said, Utgarda-Loki must be
appeased, and no man would accomplish this more fitly than
Thorkill. Others, again, laid information against him as
guilty of treachery and an enemy of the king's life. Thorkill,
seeing himself doomed to extreme peril, demanded that his
accusers should share his journey. Then they who had aspersed
an innocent man saw that the peril they had designed against
the life of another had recoiled upon themselves, and tried to
take back their plan. But vainly did they pester the ears of
the king; he forced them to sail under the command of
Thorkill, and even upbraided them with cowardice. Thus, when a
mischief is designed against another, it is commonly sure to
strike home to its author. And when these men saw that they
were constrained, and could not possibly avoid the peril, they
covered their ship with ox-hides, and filled it with abundant
store of provision.
In this ship they sailed away, and came to a
sunless land, which knew not the stars, was void of daylight,
and seemed to overshadow them with eternal night. Long they
sailed under this strange sky; at last their timber fell
short, and they lacked fuel; and, having no place to boil
their meat in, they staved off their hunger with raw viands.
But most of those who ate contracted extreme disease, being
glutted with undigested food. For the unusual diet first made
a faintness steal gradually upon their stomachs; then the
infection spread further, and the malady reached the vital
parts. Thus there was danger in either extreme, which made it
hurtful not to eat, and perilous to indulge; for it was found
both unsafe to feed and bad for them to abstain. Then, when
they were beginning to be in utter despair, a gleam of
unexpected help relieved them, even as the string breaks most
easily when it is stretched tightest. For suddenly the weary
men saw the twinkle of a fire at no great distance, and
conceived a hope of prolonging their lives. Thorkill thought
this fire a heaven-sent relief, and resolved to go and take
some of it.
To be surer of getting back to his friends,
Thorkill fastened a jewel upon the mast-head, to mark it by
the gleam. When he got to the shore, his eyes fell on a cavern
in a close defile, to which a narrow way led. Telling his
companions to await him outside, he went in, and saw two men,
swart and very huge, with horny noses, feeding their fire with
any chance-given fuel. Moreover, the entrance was hideous, the
door-posts were decayed, the walls grimy with mould, the roof
filthy, and the floor swarming with snakes; all of which
disgusted the eye as much as the mind. Then one of the giants
greeted him, and said that he had begun a most difficult
venture in his burning desire to visit a strange god, and his
attempt to explore with curious search an untrodden region
beyond the world. Yet he promised to tell Thorkill the paths
of the journey he proposed to make, if he would deliver three
true judgments in the form of as many sayings. Then said
Thorkill: "In good truth, I do not remember ever to have seen
a household with more uncomely noses; nor have I ever come to
a spot where I had less mind to live." Also he said: "That, I
think, is my best foot which can get out of this foremost."
The giant was pleased with the shrewdness of
Thorkill, and praised his sayings, telling him that he must
first travel to a grassless land which was veiled in deep
darkness; but he must first voyage for four days, rowing
incessantly, before he could reach his goal. There he could
visit Utgarda-Loki, who had chosen hideous and grisly caves
for his filthy dwelling. Thorkill was much aghast at being
bidden to go on a voyage so long and hazardous; but his
doubtful hopes prevailed over his present fears, and he asked
for some live fuel. Then said the giant: "If thou needest
fire, thou must deliver three more judgments in like sayings."
Then said Thorkill: "Good counsel is to be obeyed, though a
mean fellow gave it." Likewise: "I have gone so far in
rashness, that if I can get back I shall owe my safety to none
but my own legs." And again: "Were I free to retreat this
moment, I would take good care never to come back."
Thereupon Thorkill took the fire along to his
companions; and finding a kindly wind, landed on the fourth
day at the appointed harbour. With his crew he entered a land
where an aspect of unbroken night checked the vicissitude of
light and darkness. He could hardly see before him, but beheld
a rock of enormous size. Wishing to explore it, he told his
companions, who were standing posted at the door, to strike a
fire from flints as a timely safeguard against demons, and
kindle it in the entrance. Then he made others bear a light
before him, and stooped his body through the narrow jaws of
the cavern, where he beheld a number of iron seats among a
swarm of gliding serpents. Next there met his eye a sluggish
mass of water gently flowing over a sandy bottom. He crossed
this, and approached a cavern which sloped somewhat more
steeply. Again, after this, a foul and gloomy room was
disclosed to the visitors, wherein they saw Utgarda-Loki,
laden hand and foot with enormous chains. Each of his reeking
hairs was as large and stiff as a spear of cornel. Thorkill
(his companions lending a hand), in order that his deeds might
gain more credit, plucked one of these from the chin of
Utgarda-Loki, who suffered it. Straightway such a noisome
smell reached the bystanders, that they could not breathe
without stopping their noses with their mantles. They could
scarcely make their way out, and were bespattered by the
snakes which darted at them on every side.
Only five of Thorkill's company embarked with
their captain: the poison killed the rest. The demons hung
furiously over them, and cast their poisonous slaver from
every side upon the men below them. But the sailors sheltered
themselves with their hides, and cast back the venom that fell
upon them. One man by chance at this point wished to peep out;
the poison touched his head, which was taken off his neck as
if it had been severed with a sword. Another put his eyes out
of their shelter, and when he brought them back under it they
were blinded. Another thrust forth his hand while unfolding
his covering, and, when he withdrew his arm, it was withered
by the virulence of the same slaver. They besought their
deities to be kinder to them; vainly, until Thorkill prayed to
the god of the universe, and poured forth unto him libations
as well as prayers; and thus, presently finding the sky even
as before and the elements clear, he made a fair voyage.
And now they seemed to behold another world,
and the way towards the life of man. At last Thorkill landed
in Germany, which had then been admitted to Christianity; and
among its people he began to learn how to worship God. His
band of men were almost destroyed, because of the dreadful air
they had breathed, and he returned to his country accompanied
by two men only, who had escaped the worst. But the corrupt
matter which smeared his face so disguised his person and
original features that not even his friends knew him. But when
he wiped off the filth, he made himself recognizable by those
who saw him, and inspired the king with the greatest eagerness
to hear about his quest. But the detraction of his rivals was
not yet silenced; and some pretended that the king would die
suddenly if he learnt Thorkill's tidings. The king was the
more disposed to credit this saying, because he was already
credulous by reason of a dream which falsely prophesied the
same thing. Men were therefore hired by the king's command to
slay Thorkill in the night. But somehow he got wind of it,
left his bed unknown to all, and put a heavy log in his place.
By this he baffled the treacherous device of the king, for the
hirelings smote only the stock.
On the morrow Thorkill went up to the king as
he sat at meat, and said: "I forgive thy cruelty and pardon
thy error, in that thou hast decreed punishment, and not
thanks, to him who brings good tidings of his errand. For thy
sake I have devoted my life to all these afflictions, and
battered it in all these perils; I hoped that thou wouldst
requite my services with much gratitude; and behold! I have
found thee, and thee alone, punish my valour sharpliest. But I
forbear all vengeance, and am satisfied with the shame within
thy heart -- if, after all, any shame visits the thankless --
as expiation for this wrongdoing towards me. I have a right to
surmise that thou art worse than all demons in fury, and all
beasts in cruelty, if, after escaping the snares of all these
monsters, I have failed to be safe from thine."
The king desired to learn everything from
Thorkill's own lips; and, thinking it hard to escape destiny,
bade him relate what had happened in due order. He listened
eagerly to his recital of everything, till at last, when his
own god was named, he could not endure him to be unfavourably
judged. For he could not bear to hear Utgarda-Loki reproached
with filthiness, and so resented his shameful misfortunes,
that his very life could not brook such words, and he yielded
it up in the midst of Thorkill's narrative. Thus, whilst he
was so zealous in the worship of a false god, he came to find
where the true prison of sorrows really was. Moreover, the
reek of the hair, which Thorkill plucked from the locks of the
giant to testify to the greatness of his own deeds, was
exhaled upon the bystanders, so that many perished of it.
After the death of Gorm, GOTRIK his son came to
the throne. He was notable not only for prowess but for
generosity, and none can say whether his courage or his
compassion was the greater. He so chastened his harshness with
mercy, that he seemed to counterweigh the one with the other.
At this time Gaut, the King of Norway, was visited by Ber
(Biorn?) and Ref, men of Thule. Gaut treated Ref with
attention and friendship, and presented him with a heavy
bracelet.
One of the courtiers, when he saw this, praised
the greatness of the gift over-zealously, and declared that no
one was equal to King Gaut in kindliness. But Ref, though he
owed thanks for the benefit, could not approve the inflated
words of this extravagant praiser, and said that Gotrik was
more generous than Gaut. Wishing to crush the empty boast of
the flatterer, he chose rather to bear witness to the
generosity of the absent than tickle with lies the vanity of
his benefactor who was present. For another thing, he thought
it somewhat more desirable to be charged with ingratitude than
to support with his assent such idle and boastful praise, and
also to move the king by the solemn truth than to beguile him
with lying flatteries. But Ulf persisted not only in
stubbornly repeating his praises of the king, but in bringing
them to the proof; and proposed their gainsayer a wager.
With his consent Ref went to Denmark, and found
Gotrik seated in state, and dealing out the pay to his
soldiers. When the king asked him who he was, he said that his
name was "Fox-cub" The answer filled some with mirth and some
with marvel, and Gotrik said, "Yea, and it is fitting that a
fox should catch his prey in his mouth." And thereupon he drew
a bracelet from his arm, called the man to him, and put it
between his lips. Straightway Ref put it upon his arm, which
he displayed to them all adorned with gold, but the other arm
he kept hidden as lacking ornament; for which shrewdness he
received a gift equal to the first from that hand of matchless
generosity. At this he was overjoyed, not so much because the
reward was great, as because he had won his contention. And
when the king learnt from him about the wager he had laid, he
rejoiced that he had been lavish to him more by accident than
of set purpose, and declared that he got more pleasure from
the giving than the receiver from the gift. So Ref returned to
Norway and slew his opponent, who refused to pay the wager.
Then he took the daughter of Gaut captive, and brought her to
Gotrik for his own.
Gotrik, who is also called Godefride, carried
his arms against foreigners, and increased his strength and
glory by his successful generalship. Among his memorable deeds
were the terms of tribute he imposed upon the Saxons; namely,
that whenever a change of kings occurred among the Danes,
their princes should devote a hundred snow-white horses to the
new king on his accession. But if the Saxons should receive a
new chief upon a change in the succession, this chief was
likewise to pay the aforesaid tribute obediently, and bow at
the outset of his power to the sovereign majesty of Denmark;
thereby acknowledging the supremacy of our nation, and
solemnly confessing his own subjection. Nor was it enough for
Gotrik to subjugate Germany: he appointed Ref on a mission to
try the strength of Sweden. The Swedes feared to slay him with
open violence, but ventured to act like bandits, and killed
him, as he slept, with the blow of a stone. For, hanging a
millstone above him, they cut its fastenings, and let it drop
upon his neck as he lay beneath. To expiate this crime it was
decreed that each of the ringleaders should pay twelve golden
talents, while each of the common people should pay Gotrik one
ounce. Men called this "the Fox-cub's tribute". (Refsgild).
Meanwhile it befell that Karl, King of the
Franks, crushed Germany in war, and forced it not only to
embrace the worship of Christianity, but also to obey his
authority. When Gotrik heard of this, he attacked the nations
bordering on the Elbe, and attempted to regain under his sway
as of old the realm of Saxony, which eagerly accepted the yoke
of Karl, and preferred the Roman to the Danish arms. Karl had
at this time withdrawn his victorious camp beyond the Rhine,
and therefore forbore to engage the stranger enemy, being
prevented by the intervening river. But when he was intending
to cross once more to subdue the power of Gotrik, he was
summoned by Leo the Pope of the Romans to defend the city.
Obeying this command, Karl intrusted his son
Pepin with the conduct of the war aganst Gotrik; so that while
he himself was working against a distant foe, Pepin might
manage the conflict he had undertaken with his neighbour. For
Karl was distracted by two anxieties, and had to furnish
sufficient out of a scanty band to meet both of them.
Meanwhile Gotrik won a glorious victory over the Saxons. Then
gathering new strength, and mustering a larger body of forces,
he resolved to avenge the wrong he had suffered in losing his
sovereignty, not only upon the Saxons, but upon the whole
people of Germany. He began by subduing Friesland with his
fleet.
This province lies very low, and whenever the
fury of the ocean bursts tho dykes that bar its waves, it is
wont to receive the whole mass of the deluge over its open
plains. On this country Gotrik imposed a kind of tribute,
which was not so much harsh as strange. I will briefly relate
its terms and the manner of it. First, a building was
arranged, two hundred and forty feet in length, and divided
into twelve spaces; each of these stretching over an interval
of twenty feet, and thus making together, when the whole room
was exhausted, the aforesaid total. Now at the upper end of
this building sat the king's treasurer, and in a line with him
at its further end was displayed a round shield. When the
Frisians came to pay tribute, they used to cast their coins
one by one into the hollow of this shield; but only those
coins which struck the ear of the distant toll-gatherer with a
distinct clang were chosen by him, as he counted, to be
reckoned among the royal tribute. The result was that the
collector only reckoned that money towards the treasury of
which his distant ear caught the sound as it fell. But that of
which the sound was duller, and which fell out of his earshot,
was received indeed into the treasury, but did not count as
any increase to the sum paid. Now many coins that were cast in
struck with no audible loudness whatever on the collector's
ear, so that men who came to pay their appointed toll
sometimes squandered much of their money in useless tribute.
Karl is said to have freed them afterwards from the burden of
this tax. After Gotrik had crossed Friesland, and Karl had now
come back from Rome, Gotrik determined to swoop down upon the
further districts of Germany, but was treacherously attacked
by one of his own servants, and perished at home by the sword
of a traitor. When Karl heard this, he leapt up overjoyed,
declaring that nothing more delightful had ever fallen to his
lot than this happy chance.
ENDNOTES:
(1) Furthest Thule -- The names of Icelanders have thus crept
into the account of a battle fought before the discovery of
Iceland.
BOOK NINE
After Gotrik's death reigned his son OLAF; who,
desirous to avenge his father, did not hesitate to involve his
country in civil wars, putting patriotism after private
inclination. When he perished, his body was put in a barrow,
famous for the name of Olaf, which was built up close by
Leire.
He was succeeded by HEMMING, of whom I have
found no deed worthy of record, save that he made a sworn
peace with Kaiser Ludwig; and yet, perhaps, envious antiquity
hides many notable deeds of his time, albeit they were then
famous.
After these men there came to the throne,
backed by the Skanians and Zealanders, SIWARD, surnamed RING.
He was the son, born long ago, of the chief of Norway who bore
the same name, by Gotrik's daughter. Now Ring, cousin of
Siward, and also a grandson of Gotrik, was master of Jutland.
Thus the power of the single kingdom was divided; and, as
though its two parts were contemptible for their smallness,
foreigners began not only to despise but to attack it. These
Siward assailed with greater hatred than he did his rival for
the throne; and, preferring wars abroad to wars at home, he
stubbornly defended his country against dangers for five
years; for he chose to put up with a trouble at home that he
might the more easily cure one which came from abroad.
Wherefore Ring (desiring his) command, seized the opportunity,
tried to transfer the whole sovereignty to himself, and did
not hesitate to injure in his own land the man who was
watching over it without; for he attacked the provinces in the
possession of Siward, which was an ungrateful requital for the
defence of their common country. Therefore, some of the
Zealanders who were more zealous for Siward, in order to show
him firmer loyalty in his absence, proclaimed his son Ragnar
as king, when he was scarcely dragged out of his cradle. Not
but what they knew he was too young to govern; yet they hoped
that such a gage would serve to rouse their sluggish allies
against Ring. But, when Ring heard that Siward had meantime
returned from his expedition, he attacked the Zealanders with
a large force, and proclaimed that they should perish by the
sword if they did not surrender; but the Zealanders, who were
bidden to choose between shame and peril, were so few that
they distrusted their strength, and requested a truce to
consider the matter. It was granted; but, since it did not
seem open to them to seek the favour of Siward, nor honourable
to embrace that of Ring, they wavered long in perplexity
between fear and shame. In this plight even the old were at a
loss for counsel; but Ragnar, who chanced to be present at the
assembly, said: "The short bow shoots its shaft suddenly.
Though it may seem the hardihood of a boy that I venture to
forestall the speech of the elders, yet I pray you to pardon
my errors, and be indulgent to my unripe words. Yet the
counsellor of wisdom is not to be spurned, though he seem
contemptible; for the teaching of profitable things should be
drunk in with an open mind. Now it is shameful that we should
be branded as deserters and runaways, but it is just as
foolhardy to venture above our strength; and thus there is
proved to be equal blame either way. We must, then, pretend to
go over to the enemy, but, when a chance comes in our way, we
must desert him betimes. It will thus be better to forestall
the wrath of our foe by reigned obedience than, by refusing
it, to give him a weapon wherewith to attack us yet more
harshly; for if we decline the sway of the stronger, are we
not simply turning his arms against our own throat? Intricate
devices are often the best nurse of craft. You need cunning to
trap a fox." By this sound counsel he dispelled the wavering
of his countrymen, and strengthened the camp of the enemy to
its own hurt.
The assembly, marvelling at the eloquence as
much as at the wit of one so young, gladly embraced a proposal
of such genius, which they thought excellent beyond his years.
Nor were the old men ashamed to obey the bidding of a boy when
they lacked counsel themselves; for, though it came from one
of tender years, it was full, notwithstanding, of weighty and
sound instruction. But they feared to expose their adviser to
immediate peril, and sent him over to Norway to be brought up.
Soon afterwards, Siward joined battle with Ring and attacked
him. He slew Ring, but himself received an incurable wound, of
which he died a few days afterwards.
He was succeeded on the throne by RAGNAR. At
this time Fro (Frey?), the King of Sweden, after slaying
Siward, the King of the Norwegians, put the wives of Siward's
kinsfolk in bonds in a brothel, and delivered them to public
outrage. When Ragnar heard of this, he went to Norway to
avenge his grandfather. As he came, many of the matrons, who
had either suffered insult to their persons or feared imminent
peril to their chastity, hastened eagerly to his camp in male
attire, declaring that they would prefer death to outrage. Nor
did Ragnar, who was to punish this reproach upon the women,
scorn to use against the author of the infamy the help of
those whose shame he had come to avenge. Among them was
Ladgerda, a skilled amazon, who, though a maiden, had the
courage of a man, and fought in front among the bravest with
her hair loose over her shoulders. All-marvelled at her
matchless deeds, for her locks flying down her back betrayed
that she was a woman.
Ragnar, when he had justly cut down the
murderer of his grandfather, asked many questions of his
fellow soldiers concerning the maiden whom he had seen so
forward in the fray, and declared that he had gained the
victory by the might of one woman. Learning that she was of
noble birth among the barbarians, he steadfastly wooed her by
means of messengers. She spurned his mission in her heart, but
feigned compliance. Giving false answers, she made her panting
wooer confident that he would gain his desires; but ordered
that a bear and a dog should be set at the porch of her
dwelling, thinking to guard her own room against all the
ardour of a lover by means of the beasts that blocked the way.
Ragnar, comforted by the good news, embarked, crossed the sea,
and, telling his men to stop in Gaulardale, as the valley is
called, went to the dwelling of the maiden alone. Here the
beasts met him, and he thrust one through with a spear, and
caught the other by the throat, wrung its neck, and choked it.
Thus he had the maiden as the prize of the peril he had
overcome. By this marriage he had two daughters, whose names
have not come down to us, and a son Fridleif. Then he lived
three years at peace.
The Jutlanders, a presumptuous race, thinking
that because of his recent marriage he would never return,
took the Skanians into alliance, and tried to attack the
Zealanders, who preserved the most zealous and affectionate
loyalty towards Ragnar. He, when he heard of it, equipped
thirty ships, and, the winds favouring his voyage, crushed the
Skanians, who ventured to fight, near the stead of Whiteby,
and when the winter was over he fought successfully with the
Jutlanders who dwelt near the Liim-fjord in that region. A
third and a fourth time he conquered the Skanians and the
Hallanders triumphantly.
Afterwards, changing his love, and desiring
Thora, the daughter of the King Herodd, to wife, Ragnar
divorced himself from Ladgerda; for he thought ill of her
trustworthiness, remembering that she had long ago set the
most savage beasts to destroy him. Meantime Herodd, the King
of the Swedes, happening to go and hunt in the woods, brought
home some snakes, found by his escort, for his daughter to
rear. She speedily obeyed the instructions of her father, and
endured to rear a race of adders with her maiden hands.
Moreover, she took care that they should daily have a whole
ox-carcase to gorge upon, not knowing that she was privately
feeding and keeping up a public nuisance. The vipers grew up,
and scorched the country-side with their pestilential breath.
Whereupon the king, repenting of his sluggishness, proclaimed
that whosoever removed the pest should have his daughter.
Many warriors were thereto attracted by courage
as much as by desire; but all idly and perilously wasted their
pains. Ragnar, learning from men who travelled to and fro how
the matter stood, asked his nurse for a woolen mantle, and for
some thigh-pieces that were very hairy, with which he could
repel the snake-bites. He thought that he ought to use a dress
stuffed with hair to protect himself, and also took one that
was not unwieldy, that he might move nimbly. And when he had
landed in Sweden, he deliberately plunged his body in water,
while there was a frost falling, and, wetting his dress, to
make it the less penetrable, he let the cold freeze it. Thus
attired, he took leave of his companions, exhorted them to
remain loyal to Fridleif, and went on to the palace alone.
When he saw it, he tied his sword to his side, and lashed a
spear to his right hand with a thong. As he went on, an
enormous snake glided up and met him. Another, equally huge,
crawled up, following in the trail of the first. They strove
now to buffet the young man with the coils of their tails, and
now to spit and belch their venom stubbornly upon him.
Meantime the courtiers, betaking themselves to safer hiding,
watched the struggle from afar like affrighted little girls.
The king was stricken with equal fear, and fled, with a few
followers, to a narrow shelter. But Ragnar, trusting in the
hardness of his frozen dress, foiled the poisonous assaults
not only with his arms, but with his attire, and,
singlehanded, in unweariable combat, stood up against the two
gaping creatures, who stubbornly poured forth their venom upon
him. For their teeth he repelled with his shield, their poison
with his dress. At last he cast his spear, and drove it
against the bodies of the brutes, who were attacking him hard.
He pierced both their hearts, and his battle ended in victory.
After Ragnar had thus triumphed the king
scanned his dress closely, and saw that he was rough and
hairy; but, above all, he laughed at the shaggy lower portion
of his garb, and chiefly the uncouth aspect of his breeches;
so that he gave him in jest the nickname of Lodbrog. Also he
invited him to feast with his friends, to refresh him after
his labours. Ragnar said that he would first go back to the
witnesses whom he had left behind. He set out and brought them
back, splendidly attired for the coming feast. At last, when
the banquet was over, he received the prize that was appointed
for the victory. By her he begot two nobly- gifted sons,
Radbard and Dunwat. These also had brothers -- Siward, Biorn,
Agnar, and Iwar.
Meanwhile, the Jutes and Skanians were kindled
with an unquenchable fire of sedition; they disallowed the
title of Ragnar, and gave a certain Harald the sovereign
power. Ragnar sent envoys to Norway, and besought friendly
assistance against these men; and Ladgerda, whose early love
still flowed deep and steadfast, hastily sailed off with her
husband and her son. She brought herself to offer a hundred
and twenty ships to the man who had once put her away. And he,
thinking himself destitute of all resources, took to borrowing
help from folk of every age, crowded the strong and the feeble
all together, and was not ashamed to insert some old men and
boys among the wedges of the strong. So he first tried to
crush the power of the Skanians in the field which in Latin is
called Laneus (Woolly); here he had a hard fight with the
rebels. Here, too, Iwar, who was in his seventh year, fought
splendidly, and showed the strength of a man in the body of a
boy. But Siward, while attacking the enemy face to face, fell
forward upon the ground wounded. When his men saw this, it
made them look round most anxiously for means of flight; and
this brought low not only Siward, but almost the whole army on
the side of Ragnar. But Ragnar by his manly deeds and
exhortations comforted their amazed and sunken spirits, and,
just when they were ready to be conquered, spurred them on to
try and conquer.
Ladgerda, who had a matchless spirit though a
delicate frame, covered by her splendid bravery the
inclination of the soldiers to waver. For she made a sally
about, and flew round to the rear of the enemy, taking them
unawares, and thus turned the panic of her friends into the
camp of the enemy. At last the lines of HARALD became slack,
and HARALD himself was routed with a great slaughter of his
men. LADGERDA, when she had gone home after the battle,
murdered her husband.... in the night with a spear-head, which
she had hid in her gown. Then she usurped the whole of his
name and sovereignty; for this most presumptuous dame thought
it pleasanter to rule without her husband than to share the
throne with him.
Meantime, Siward was taken to a town in the
neighbourhood, and gave himself to be tended by the doctors,
who were reduced to the depths of despair. But while the huge
wound baffled all the remedies they applied, a certain man of
amazing size was seen to approach the litter of the sick man,
and promised that Siward should straightway rejoice and be
whole, if he would consecrate unto him the souls of all whom
he should overcome in battle. Nor did he conceal his name, but
said that he was called Rostar. Now Siward, when he saw that a
great benefit could be got at the cost of a little promise,
eagerly acceded to this request. Then the old man suddenly, by
the help of his hand, touched and banished the livid spot, and
suddenly scarred the wound over. At last he poured dust on his
eyes and departed. Spots suddenly arose, and the dust, to the
amaze of the beholders, seemed to become wonderfully like
little snakes.
I should think that he who did this miracle
wished to declare, by the manifest token of his eyes, that the
young man was to be cruel in future, in order that the more
visible part of his body might not lack some omen of his life
that was to follow. When the old woman, who had the care of
his draughts, saw him showing in his face signs of little
snakes; she was seized with an extraordinary horror of the
young man, and suddenly fell and swooned away. Hence it
happened that Siward got the widespread name of Snake-Eye.
Meantime Thora, the bride of Ragnar, perished
of a violent malady, which caused infinite trouble and
distress to the husband, who dearly loved his wife. This
distress, he thought, would be best dispelled by business, and
he resolved to find solace in exercise and qualify his grief
by toil. To banish his affliction and gain some comfort, he
bent his thoughts to warfare, and decreed that every father of
a family should devote to his service whichever of his
children he thought most contemptible, or any slave of his who
was lazy at his work or of doubtful fidelity. And albeit that
this decree seemed little fitted for his purpose, he showed
that the feeblest of the Danish race were better than the
strongest men of other nations; and it did the young men great
good, each of those chosen being eager to wipe off the
reproach of indolence. Also he enacted that every piece of
litigation should be referred to the judgment of twelve chosen
elders, all ordinary methods of action being removed, the
accuser being forbidden to charge, and the accused to defend.
This law removed all chance of incurring litigation lightly.
Thinking that there was thus sufficient provision made against
false accusations by unscrupulous men, he lifted up his arms
against Britain, and attacked and slew in battle its king,
Hame, the father of Ella, who was a most noble youth. Then he
killed the earls of Scotland and of Pictland, and of the isles
that they call the Southern or Meridional (Sudr-eyar), and
made his sons Siward and Radbard masters of the provinces,
which were now without governors. He also deprived Norway of
its chief by force, and commanded it to obey Fridleif, whom he
also set over the Orkneys, from which he took their own earl.
Meantime, some of the Danes who were most
stubborn in their hatred against Ragnar were obstinately bent
on rebellion. They rallied to the side of Harald, once an
exile, and tried to raise the fallen fortunes of the tyrant.
By this hardihood they raised up against the king the most
virulent blasts of civil war, and entangled him in domestic
perils when he was free from foreign troubles. Ragnar, setting
out to check them with a fleet of the Danes who lived in the
isles, crushed the army of the rebels, drove Harald, the
leader of the conquered army, a fugitive to Germany, and
forced him to resign unbashfully an honour which he had gained
without scruple. Nor was he content simply to kill his
prisoners: he preferred to torture them to death, so that
those who could not be induced to forsake their disloyalty
might not be so much as suffered to give up the ghost save
under the most grievous punishment. Moreover, the estates of
those who had deserted with Harald he distributed among those
who were serving as his soldiers, thinking that the fathers
would be worse punished by seeing the honour of their
inheritance made over to the children whom they had rejected,
while those whom they had loved better lost their patrimony.
But even this did not sate his vengeance, and he further
determined to attack Saxony, thinking it the refuge of his
foes and the retreat of Harald. So, begging his sons to help
him, he came on Karl, who happened then to be tarrying on
those borders of his empire. Intercepting his sentries, he
eluded the watch that was posted on guard. But while he
thought that all the rest would therefore be easy and more
open to his attacks, suddenly a woman who was a soothsayer, a
kind of divine oracle or interpreter of the will of heaven,
warned the king with a saving prophecy, and by her fortunate
presage forestalled the mischief that impended, saying that
the fleet of Siward had moored at the mouth of the river
Seine. The emperor, heeding the warning, and understanding
that the enemy was at hand, managed to engage with and stop
the barbarians, who were thus pointed out to him. A battle was
fought with Ragnar; but Karl did not succeed as happily in the
field as he had got warning of the danger. And so that
tireless conqueror of almost all Europe, who in his calm and
complete career of victory had travelled over so great a
portion of the world, now beheld his army, which had
vanquished all these states and nations, turning its face from
the field, and shattered by a handful from a single province.
Ragnar, after loading the Saxons with tribute,
had sure tidings from Sweden of the death of Herodd, and also
heard that his own sons, owing to the slander of Sorle, the
king chosen in his stead, had been robbed of their
inheritance. He besought the aid of the brothers Biorn,
Fridleif, and Ragbard (for Ragnald, Hwitserk, and Erik, his
sons by Swanloga, had not yet reached the age of bearing
arms), and went to Sweden. Sorle met him with his army, and
offered him the choice between a public conflict and a duel;
and when Ragnar chose personal combat, he sent against him
Starkad, a champion of approved daring, with his band of seven
sons, to challenge and fight with him. Ragnar took his three
sons to share the battle with him, engaged in the sight of
both armies, and came out of the combat triumphant.
Biorn, having inflicted great slaughter on the
foe without hurt to himself, gained from the strength of his
sides, which were like iron, a perpetual name (Ironsides).
This victory emboldened Ragnar to hope that he could overcome
any peril, and he attacked and slew Sorle with the entire
forces he was leading. He presented Biorn with the lordship of
Sweden for his conspicuous bravery and service. Then for a
little interval he rested from wars, and chanced to fall
deeply in love with a certain woman. In order to find some
means of approaching and winning her the more readily, he
courted her father (Esbern) by showing him the most obliging
and attentive kindness. He often invited him to banquets, and
received him with lavish courtesy. When he came, he paid him
the respect of rising, and when he sat, he honoured him with a
set next to himself. He also often comforted him with gifts,
and at times with the most kindly speech. The man saw that no
merits of his own could be the cause of all this distinction,
and casting over the matter every way in his mind, he
perceived that the generosity of his monarch was caused by his
love for his daughter, and that he coloured this lustful
purpose with the name of kindness. But, that he might balk the
cleverness of the lover, however well calculated, he had the
girl watched all the more carefully that he saw her beset by
secret aims and obstinate methods. But Ragnar, who was
comforted by the surest tidings of her consent, went to the
farmhouse in which she was kept, and fancying that love must
find out a way, repaired alone to a certain peasant in a
neighbouring lodging. In the morning he exchanged dress with
the women, and went in female attire, and stood by his
mistress as she was unwinding wool. Cunningly, to avoid
betrayal, he set his hands to the work of a maiden, though
they were little skilled in the art. In the night he embraced
the maiden and gained his desire. When her time drew near, and
the girl growing big, betrayed her outraged chastity, the
father, not knowing to whom his daughter had given herself to
be defiled, persisted in asking the girl herself who was the
unknown seducer. She steadfastly affirmed that she had had no
one to share her bed except her handmaid, and he made the
affair over to the king to search into. He would not allow an
innocent servant to be branded with an extraordinary charge,
and was not ashamed to prove another's innocence by avowing
his own guilt. By this generosity he partially removed the
woman's reproach, and prevented an absurd report from being
sown in the ears of the wicked. Also he added, that the son to
be born of her was of his own line, and that he wished him to
be named Ubbe. When this son had grown up somewhat, his wit,
despite his tender years, equalled the discernment of manhood.
For he took to loving his mother, since she had had converse
with a noble bed, but cast off all respect for his father,
because he had stooped to a union too lowly.
After this Ragnar prepared an expedition
against the Hellespontines, and summoned an assembly of the
Danes, promising that he would give the people most wholesome
laws. He had enacted before that each father of a household
should offer for service that one among his sons whom he
esteemed least; but now he enacted that each should arm the
son who was stoutest of hand or of most approved loyalty.
Thereon, taking all the sons he had by Thora, in addition to
Ubbe, he attacked, crushed in sundry campaigns, and subdued
the Hellespont with its king Dia. At last he involved the same
king in disaster after disaster, and slew him. Dia's sons, Dia
and Daxo, who had before married the daughters of the Russian
king, begged forces from their father- in-law, and rushed with
most ardent courage to the work of avenging their father. But
Ragnar, when he saw their boundless army, distrusted his own
forces; and he put brazen horses on wheels that could be drawn
easily, took them round on carriages that would turn, and
ordered that they should be driven with the utmost force
against the thickest ranks of the enemy. This device served so
well to break the line of the foe, that the Danes' hope of
conquest seemed to lie more in the engine than in the
soldiers: for its insupportable weight overwhelmed whatever it
struck. Thus one of the leaders was killed, while one made off
in flight, and the whole army of the area of the Hellespont
retreated. The Scythians, also, who were closely related by
blood to Daxo on the mother's side, are said to have been
crushed in the same disaster. Their province was made over to
Hwitserk, and the king of the Russians, trusting little in his
own strength, hastened to fly out of the reach of the terrible
arms of Ragnar.
Now Ragnar had spent almost five years in
sea-roving, and had quickly compelled all other nations to
submit; but he found the Perms in open defiance of his
sovereignty. He had just conquered them, but their loyalty was
weak. When they heard that he had come they cast spells upon
the sky, stirred up the clouds, and drove them into most
furious storms. This for some time prevented the Danes from
voyaging, and caused their supply of food to fail. Then,
again, the storm suddenly abated, and now they were scorched
by the most fervent and burning heat; nor was this plague any
easier to bear than the great and violent cold had been. Thus
the mischievous excess in both directions affected their
bodies alternately, and injured them by an immoderate increase
first of cold and then of heat. Moreover, dysentery killed
most of them. So the mass of the Danes, being pent in by the
dangerous state of the weather, perished of the bodily plague
that arose on every side. And when Ragnar saw that he was
hindered, not so much by a natural as by a factitious tempest,
he held on his voyage as best he could, and got to the country
of the Kurlanders and Sembs, who paid zealous honour to his
might and majesty, as if he were the most revered of
conquerors. This service enraged the king all the more against
the arrogance of the men of Permland, and he attempted to
avenge his slighted dignity by a sudden attack. Their king,
whose name is not known, was struck with panic at such a
sudden invasion of the enemy, and at the same time had no
heart to join battle with them; and fled to Matul, the prince
of Finmark. He, trusting in the great skill of his archers,
harassed with impunity the army of Ragnar, which was wintering
in Permland. For the Finns, who are wont to glide on slippery
timbers (snowskates), scud along at whatever pace they will,
and are considered to be able to approach or depart very
quickly; for as soon as they have damaged the enemy they fly
away as speedily as they approach, nor is the retreat they
make quicker than their charge. Thus their vehicles and their
bodies are so nimble that they acquire the utmost expertness
both in advance and flight.
Ragnar was filled with amazement at the
poorness of his fortunes when he saw that he, who had
conquered Rome at its pinnacle of power, was dragged by an
unarmed and uncouth race into the utmost peril. He, therefore,
who had signally crushed the most glorious flower of the Roman
soldiery, and the forces of a most great and serene captain,
now yielded to a base mob with the poorest and slenderest
equipment; and he whose lustre in war the might of the
strongest race on earth had failed to tarnish, was now too
weak to withstand the tiny band of a miserable tribe. Hence,
with that force which had helped him bravely to defeat the
most famous pomp in all the world and the weightiest weapon of
military power, and to subdue in the field all that thunderous
foot, horse, and encampment; with this he had now, stealthily
and like a thief, to endure the attacks of a wretched and
obscure populace; nor must he blush to stain by a treachery in
the night that noble glory of his which had been won in the
light of day, for he took to a secret ambuscade instead of
open bravery. This affair was as profitable in its issue as it
was unhandsome in the doing.
Ragnar was equally as well pleased at the
flight of the Finns as he had been at that of Karl, and owned
that he had found more strength in that defenceless people
than in the best equipped soldiery; for he found the heaviest
weapons of the Romans easier to bear than the light darts of
this ragged tribe. Here, after killing the king of the Perms
and routing the king of the Finns, Ragnar set an eternal
memorial of his victory on the rocks, which bore the
characters of his deeds on their face, and looked down upon
them.
Meanwhile Ubbe was led by his grandfather,
Esbern, to conceive an unholy desire for the throne; and,
casting away all thought of the reverence due to his father,
he claimed the emblem of royalty for his own head.
When Ragnar heard of his arrogance from Kelther
and Thorkill, the earls of Sweden, he made a hasty voyage
towards Gothland. Esbern, finding that these men were attached
with a singular loyalty to the side of Ragnar, tried to bribe
them to desert the king. But they did not swerve from their
purpose, and replied that their will depended on that of
Biorn, declaring that not a single Swede would dare to do what
went against his pleasure. Esbern speedily made an attempt on
Biorn himself, addressing him most courteously through his
envoys. Biorn said that he would never lean more to treachery
than to good faith, and judged that it would be a most
abominable thing to prefer the favour of an infamous brother
to the love of a most righteous father. The envoys themselves
he punished with hanging, because they counselled him to so
grievous a crime. The Swedes, moreover, slew the rest of the
train of the envoys in the same way, as a punishment for their
mischievous advice. So Esbern, thinking that his secret and
stealthy manoeuvres did not succeed fast enough, mustered his
forces openly, and went publicly forth to war. But Iwar, the
governor of Jutland, seeing no righteousness on either side of
the impious conflict, avoided all unholy war by voluntary
exile.
Ragnar attacked and slew Esbern in the bay that
is called in Latin Viridis; he cut off the dead man's head and
bade it be set upon the ship's prow, a dreadful sight for the
seditious. But Ubbe took to flight, and again attacked his
father, having revived the war in Zealand. Ubbe's ranks broke,
and he was assailed single-handed from all sides; but he
felled so many of the enemy's line that he was surrounded with
a pile of the corpses of the foe as with a strong bulwark, and
easily checked his assailants from approaching. At last he was
overwhelmed by the thickening masses of the enemy, captured,
and taken off to be laden with public fetters. By immense
violence he disentangled his chains and cut them away. But
when he tried to sunder and rend the bonds that were (then)
put upon him, he could not in any wise escape his bars. But
when Iwar heard that the rising in his country had been
quelled by the punishment of the rebel, he went to Denmark.
Ragnar received him with the greatest honour, because, while
the unnatural war had raged its fiercest, he had behaved with
the most entire filial respect.
Meanwhile Daxo long and vainly tried to
overcome Hwitserk, who ruled over Sweden; but at last he
enrapped him under pretence of making a peace, and attacked
him. Hwitserk received him hospitably, but Daxo had prepared
an army with weapons, who were to feign to be trading, ride
into the city in carriages, and break with a night-attack into
the house of their host. Hwitserk smote this band of robbers
with such a slaughter that he was surrounded with a heap of
his enemies' bodies, and could only be taken by letting down
ladders from above. Twelve of his companions, who were
captured at the same time by the enemy, were given leave to go
back to their country; but they gave up their lives for their
king, and chose to share the dangers of another rather than be
quit of their own.
Daxo, moved with compassion at the beauty of
Hwitserk, had not the heart to pluck the budding blossom of
that noble nature, and offered him not only his life, but his
daughter in marriage, with a dowry of half his kingdom;
choosing rather to spare his comeliness than to punish his
bravery. But the other, in the greatness of his soul, valued
as nothing the life which he was given on sufferance, and
spurned his safety as though it were some trivial benefit. Of
his own will he embraced the sentence of doom, saying, that
Ragnar would exact a milder vengeance for his son if he found
that he had made his own choice in selecting the manner of his
death. The enemy wondered at his rashness, and promised that
he should die by the manner of death which he should choose
for this punishment. This leave the young man accepted as a
great kindness, and begged that he might be bound and burned
with his friends. Daxo speedily complied with his prayers that
craved for death, and by way of kindness granted him the end
that he had chosen. When Ragnar heard of this, he began to
grieve stubbornly even unto death, and not only put on the
garb of mourning, but, in the exceeding sorrow of his soul,
took to his bed and showed his grief by groaning. But his
wife, who had more than a man's courage, chid his weakness,
and put heart into him with her manful admonitions. Drawing
his mind off from his woe, she bade him be zealous in the
pursuit of war; declaring that it was better for so brave a
father to avenge the bloodstained ashes of his son with
weapons than with tears. She also told him not to whimper like
a woman, and get as much disgrace by his tears as he had once
earned glory by his valour. Upon these words Ragnar began to
fear lest he should destroy his ancient name for courage by
his womanish sorrow; so, shaking off his melancholy garb and
putting away his signs of mourning, he revived his sleeping
valour with hopes of speedy vengeance. Thus do the weak
sometimes nerve the spirits of the strong. So he put his
kingdom in charge of Iwar, and embraced with a father's love
Ubbe, who was now restored to his ancient favour. Then he
transported his fleet over to Russia, took Daxo, bound him in
chains, and sent him away to be kept in Utgard. (1)
Ragnar showed on this occasion the most
merciful moderation towards the slayer of his dearest son,
since he sufficiently satisfied the vengeance which he
desired, by the exile of the culprit rather than his death.
This compassion shamed the Russians out of any further rage
against such a king, who could not be driven even by the most
grievous wrongs to inflict death upon his prisoners. Ragnar
soon took Daxo back into favour, and restored him to his
country, upon his promising that he would every year pay him
his tribute barefoot, like a suppliant, with twelve elders,
also unshod. For he thought it better to punish a prisoner and
a suppliant gently, than to draw the axe of bloodshed; better
to punish that proud neck with constant slavery than to sever
it once and for all. Then he went on and appointed his son
Erik, surnamed Wind-hat, over Sweden. Here, while Fridleif and
Siward were serving under him, he found that the Norwegians
and the Scots had wrongfully conferred the title of king on
two other men. So he first overthrew the usurper to the power
of Norway, and let Biorn have the country for his own benefit.
Then he summoned Biorn and Erik, ravaged the
Orkneys, landed at last on the territory of the Scots, and in
a three-days' battle wearied out their king Murial, and slew
him. But Ragnar's sons, Dunwat and Radbard, after fighting
nobly, were slain by the enemy. So that the victory their
father won was stained with their blood. He returned to
Denmark, and found that his wife Swanloga had in the meantime
died of disease. Straightway he sought medicine for his grief
in loneliness, and patiently confined the grief of his sick
soul within the walls of his house. But this bitter sorrow was
driven out of him by the sudden arrival of Iwar, who had been
expelled from the kingdom. For the Gauls had made him fly, and
had wrongfully bestowed royal power on a certain Ella, the son
of Hame. Ragnar took Iwar to guide him, since he was
acquainted with the country, gave orders for a fleet, and
approached the harbour called York. Here he disembarked his
forces, and after a battle which lasted three days, he made
Ella, who had trusted in the valour of the Gauls, desirous to
fly. The affair cost much blood to the English and very little
to the Danes. Here Ragnar completed a year of conquest, and
then, summoning his sons to help him, he went to Ireland, slew
its king Melbrik, besieged Dublin, which was filled with
wealth of the barbarians, attacked it, and received its
surrender. There he lay in camp for a year; and then, sailing
through the midland sea, he made his way to the Hellespont. He
won signal victories as he crossed all the intervening
countries, and no ill-fortune anywhere checked his steady and
prosperous advance.
Harald, meanwhile, with the adherence of
certain Danes who were cold-hearted servants in the army of
Ragnar, disturbed his country with renewed sedition, and came
forward claiming the title of king. He was met by the arms of
Ragnar returning from the Hellespont; but being unsuccessful,
and seeing that his resources of defence at home were
exhausted, he went to ask help of Ludwig, who was then
stationed at Mainz. But Ludwig, filled with the greatest zeal
for promoting his religion, imposed a condition on the
Barbarian, promising him help if he would agree to follow the
worship of Christ. For he said there could be no agreement of
hearts between those who embraced discordant creeds. Anyone,
therefore, who asked for help, must first have a fellowship in
religion. No men could be partners in great works who were
separated by a different form of worship. This decision
procured not only salvation for Ludwig's guest, but the praise
of piety for Ludwig himself, who, as soon as Harald had gone
to the holy font, accordingly strengthened him with Saxon
auxiliaries. Trusting in these, Harald built a temple in the
land of Sleswik with much care and cost, to be hallowed to
God. Thus he borrowed a pattern of the most holy way from the
worship of Rome. He unhallowed, pulled down the shrines that
had been profaned by the error of misbelievers, outlawed the
sacrificers, abolished the (heathen) priesthood, and was the
first to introduce the religion of Christianity to his uncouth
country. Rejecting the worship of demons, he was zealous for
that of God. Lastly, he observed with the most scrupulous care
whatever concerned the protection of religion. But he began
with more piety than success. For Ragnar came up, outraged the
holy rites he had brought in, outlawed the true faith,
restored the false one to its old position, and bestowed on
the ceremonies the same honour as before. As for Harald, he
deserted and cast in his lot with sacrilege. For though he was
a notable ensample by his introduction of religion, yet he was
the first who was seen to neglect it, and this illustrious
promoter of holiness proved a most infamous forsaker of the
same.
Meanwhile, Ella betook himself to the Irish,
and put to the sword or punished all those who were closely
and loyally attached to Ragnar. Then Ragnar attacked him with
his fleet, but, by the just visitation of the Omnipotent, was
openly punished for disparaging religion. For when he had been
taken and cast into prison, his guilty limbs were given to
serpents to devour, and adders found ghastly substance in the
fibres of his entrails. His liver was eaten away, and a snake,
like a deadly executioner, beset his very heart. Then in a
courageous voice he recounted all his deeds in order, and at
the end of his recital added the following sentence: "If the
porkers knew the punishment of the boar-pig, surely they would
break into the sty and hasten to loose him from his
affliction." At this saying, Ella conjectured that some of his
sons were yet alive, and bade that the executioners should
stop and the vipers be removed. The servants ran up to
accomplish his bidding; but Ragnar was dead, and forestalled
the order of the king. Surely we must say that this man had a
double lot for his share? By one, he had a fleet unscathed, an
empire well-inclined, and immense power as a rover; while the
other inflicted on him the ruin of his fame, the slaughter of
his soldiers, and a most bitter end. The executioner beheld
him beset with poisonous beasts, and asps gorging on that
heart which he had borne steadfast in the face of every peril.
Thus a most glorious conqueror declined to the piteous lot of
a prisoner; a lesson that no man should put too much trust in
fortune.
Iwar heard of this disaster as he happened to
be looking on at the games. Nevertheless, he kept an unmoved
countenance, and in nowise broke down. Not only did he
dissemble his grief and conceal the news of his father's
death, but he did not even allow a clamour to arise, and
forbade the panic-stricken people to leave the scene of the
sports. Thus, loth to interrupt the spectacle by the ceasing
of the games, he neither clouded his countenance nor turned
his eyes from public merriment to dwell upon his private
sorrow; for he would not fall suddenly into the deepest
melancholy from the height of festal joy, or seem to behave
more like an afflicted son than a blithe captain.
But when Siward heard the same tidings, he
loved his father more than he cared for his own pain, and in
his distraction plunged deeply into his foot the spear he
chanced to be holding, dead to all bodily troubles in his
stony sadness. For he wished to hurt some part of his body
severely, that he might the more patiently bear the wound in
his soul. By this act he showed at once his bravery and his
grief, and bore his lot like a son who was more afflicted and
steadfast. But Biorn received the tidings of his father's
death while he was playing at dice, and squeezed so violently
the piece that he was grasping that he wrung the blood from
his fingers and shed it on the table; whereon he said that
assuredly the cast of fate was more fickle than that of the
very die which he was throwing. When Ella heard this, he
judged that his father's death had been borne with the
toughest and most stubborn spirit by that son of the three who
had paid no filial respect to his decease; and therefore he
dreaded the bravery of Iwar most.
Iwar went towards England, and when he saw that
his fleet was not strong enough to join battle with the enemy,
he chose to be cunning rather than bold, and tried a shrewd
trick on Ella, begging as a pledge of peace between them a
strip of land as great as he could cover with a horse's hide.
He gained his request, for the king supposed that it would
cost little, and thought himself happy that so strong a foe
begged for a little boon instead of a great one; supposing
that a tiny skin would cover but a very little land. But Iwar
cut the hide out and lengthened it into very slender thongs,
thus enclosing a piece of ground large enough to build a city
on. Then Ella came to repent of his lavishness, and tardily
set to reckoning the size of the hide, measuring the little
skin more narrowly now that it was cut up than when it was
whole. For that which he had thought would encompass a little
strip of ground, he saw lying wide over a great estate. Iwar
brought into the city, when he founded it, supplies that would
serve amply for a siege, wishing the defences to be as good
against scarcity as against an enemy.
Meantime, Siward and Biorn came up with a fleet
of 400 ships, and with open challenge declared war against the
king. This they did at the appointed time; and when they had
captured him, they ordered the figure of an eagle to be cut in
his back, rejoicing to crush their most ruthless foe by
marking him with the cruellest of birds. Not satisfied with
imprinting a wound on him, they salted the mangled flesh. Thus
Ella was done to death, and Biorn and Siward went back to
their own kingdoms.
Iwar governed England for two years. Meanwhile
the Danes were stubborn in revolt, and made war, and delivered
the sovereignty publicly to a certain SIWARD and to ERIK, both
of the royal line. The sons of Ragnar, together with a fleet
of 1,700 ships, attacked them at Sleswik, and destroyed them
in a conflict which lasted six months. Barrows remain to tell
the tale. The sound on which the war was conducted has gained
equal glory by the death of Siward. And now the royal stock
was almost extinguished, saving only the sons of Ragnar. Then,
when Biorn and Erik had gone home, Iwar and Siward settled in
Denmark, that they might curb the rebels with a stronger rein,
setting Agnar to govern England. Agnar was stung because the
English rejected him, and, with the help of Siward, chose,
rather than foster the insolence of the province that despised
him, to dispeople it and leave its fields, which were matted
in decay, with none to till them. He covered the richest land
of the island with the most hideous desolation, thinking it
better to be lord of a wilderness than of a headstrong
country. After this he wished to avenge Erik, who had been
slain in Sweden by the malice of a certain Osten. But while he
was narrowly bent on avenging another, he squandered his own
blood on the foe; and while he was eagerly trying to punish
the slaughter of his brother, sacrificed his own life to
brotherly love.
Thus SIWARD, by the sovereign vote of the whole
Danish assembly, received the empire of his father. But after
the defeats he had inflicted everywhere he was satisfied with
the honour he received at home, and liked better to be famous
with the gown than with the sword. He ceased to be a man of
camps, and changed from the fiercest of despots into the most
punctual guardian of peace. He found as much honour in ease
and leisure as he had used to think lay in many victories.
Fortune so favoured his change of pursuits, that no foe ever
attacked him, nor he any foe. He died, and ERIK, who was a
very young child, inherited his nature, rather than his realm
or his tranquillity. For Erik, the brother of Harald,
despising his exceedingly tender years, invaded the country
with rebels, and seized the crown; nor was he ashamed to
assail the lawful infant sovereign, and to assume an
unrightful power. In thus bringing himself to despoil a feeble
child of the kingdom he showed himself the more unworthy of
it. Thus he stripped the other of his throne, but himself of
all his virtues, and cast all manliness out of his heart, when
he made war upon a cradle: for where covetousness and ambition
flamed, love of kindred could find no place. But this
brutality was requited by the wrath of a divine vengeance. For
the war between this man and Gudorm, the son of Harald, ended
suddenly with such slaughter that they were both slain, with
numberless others; and the royal stock of the Danes, now worn
out by the most terrible massacres, was reduced to the only
son of the above Siward.
This man (Erik) won the fortune of a throne by
losing his kindred; it was luckier for him to have his
relations dead than alive. He forsook the example of all the
rest, and hastened to tread in the steps of his grandfather;
for he suddenly came out as a most zealous practitioner of
roving. And would that he had not shown himself rashly to
inherit the spirit of Ragnar, by his abolition of Christian
worship! For he continually tortured all the most religious
men, or stripped them of their property and banished them. But
it were idle for me to blame the man's beginnings when I am to
praise his end. For that life is more laudable of which the
foul beginning is checked by a glorious close, than that which
begins commendably but declines into faults and infamies. For
Erik, upon the healthy admonitions of Ansgarius, laid aside
the errors of his impious heart, and atoned for whatsoever he
had done amiss in the insolence thereof; showing himself as
strong in the observance of religion as he had been in
slighting it. Thus he not only took a draught of more
wholesome teaching with obedient mind, but wiped off early
stains by his purity at the end. He had a son KANUTE by the
daughter of Gudorm, who was also the granddaughter of Harald;
and him he left to survive his death.
While this child remained in infancy a guardian
was required for the pupil and for the realm. But inasmuch it
seemed to most people either invidious or difficult to give
the aid that this office needed, it was resolved that a man
should be chosen by lot. For the wisest of the Danes, fearing
much to make a choice by their own will in so lofty a matter,
allowed more voice to external chance than to their own
opinions, and entrusted the issue of the selection rather to
luck than to sound counsel. The issue was that a certain
Enni-gnup (Steep-brow), a man of the highest and most entire
virtue, was forced to put his shoulder to this heavy burden;
and when he entered on the administration which chalice had
decreed, he oversaw, not only the early rearing of the king,
but the affairs of the whole people. For which reason some who
are little versed in our history give this man a central place
in its annals. But when Kanute had passed through the period
of boyhood, and had in time grown to be a man, he left those
who had done him the service of bringing him up, and turned
from an almost hopeless youth to the practice of unhoped-for
virtue; being deplorable for this reason only, that he passed
from life to death without the tokens of the Christian faith.
But soon the sovereignty passed to his son
FRODE. This man's fortune, increased by arms and warfare, rose
to such a height of prosperity that he brought back to the
ancient yoke the provinces which had once revolted from the
Danes, and bound them in their old obedience. He also came
forward to be baptised with holy water in England, which had
for some while past been versed in Christianity. But he
desired that his personal salvation should overflow and become
general, and begged that Denmark should be instructed in
divinity by Agapete, who was then Pope of Rome. But he was cut
off before his prayers attained this wish. His death befell
before the arrival of the messengers from Rome: and indeed his
intention was better than his fortune, and he won as great a
reward in heaven for his intended piety as others are
vouchsafed for their achievement.
His son GORM, who had the surname of "The
Englishman," because he was born in England, gained the
sovereignty in the island on his father's death; but his
fortune, though it came soon, did not last long. He left
England for Denmark to put it in order; but a long misfortune
was the fruit of this short absence. For the English, who
thought that their whole chance of freedom lay in his being
away, planned an open revolt from the Danes, and in hot haste
took heart to rebel. But the greater the hatred and contempt
of England, the greater the loyal attachment of Denmark to the
king. Thus while he stretched out his two hands to both
provinces in his desire for sway, he gained one, but lost the
lordship of the other irretrievably; for he never made any
bold effort to regain it. So hard is it to keep a hold on very
large empires.
After this man his son HARALD came to be king
of Denmark; he is half-forgotten by posterity, and lacks all
record for famous deeds, because he rather preserved than
extended the possessions of the realm.
After this the throne was obtained by GORM, a
man whose soul was ever hostile to religion, and who tried to
efface all regard for Christ's worshippers, as though they
were the most abominable of men. All those who shared this
rule of life he harassed with divers kinds of injuries and
incessantly pursued with whatever slanders he could. Also, in
order to restore the old worship to the shrines, he razed to
its lowest foundations, as though it were some unholy abode of
impiety, a temple which religious men had founded in a stead
in Sleswik; and those whom he did not visit with tortures he
punished by the demolition of the holy chapel. Though this man
was thought notable for his stature, his mind did not answer
to his body; for he kept himself so well sated with power that
he rejoiced more in saving than increasing his dignity, and
thought it better to guard his own than to attack what
belonged to others: caring more to look to what he had than to
swell his havings.
This man was counselled by the elders to
celebrate the rites of marriage, and he wooed Thyra, the
daughter of Ethelred, the king of the English, for his wife.
She surpassed other women in seriousness and shrewdness, and
laid the condition on her suitor that she would not marry him
till she had received Denmark as a dowry. This compact was
made between them, and she was betrothed to Gorm. But on the
first night that she went up on to the marriage-bed, she
prayed her husband most earnestly that she should be allowed
to go for three days free from intercourse with man. For she
resolved to have no pleasure of love till she had learned by
some omen in a vision that her marriage would be fruitful.
Thus, under pretence of self-control, she deferred her
experience of marriage, and veiled under a show of modesty her
wish to learn about her issue. She put off lustful
intercourse, inquiring, under the feint of chastity, into the
fortune she would have in continuing her line. Some conjecture
that she refused the pleasures of the nuptial couch in order
to win her mate over to Christianity by her abstinence. But
the youth, though he was most ardently bent on her love, yet
chose to regard the continence of another more than his own
desires, and thought it nobler to control the impulses of the
night than to rebuff the prayers of his weeping mistress; for
he thought that her beseechings, really coming from
calculation, had to do with modesty. Thus it befell that he
who should have done a husband's part made himself the
guardian of her chastity so that the reproach of an infamous
mind should not be his at the very beginning of his marriage;
as though he had yielded more to the might of passion than to
his own self-respect. Moreover that he might not seem to
forestall by his lustful embraces the love which the maiden
would not grant, he not only forbore to let their sides that
were next one another touch, but even severed them by his
drawn sword, and turned the bed into a divided shelter for his
bride and himself. But he soon tasted in the joyous form of a
dream the pleasure which he postponed from free loving
kindness. For, when his spirit was steeped in slumber, he
thought that two birds glided down from the privy parts of his
wife, one larger than the other; that they poised their bodies
aloft and soared swiftly to heaven, and, when a little time
had elapsed, came back and sat on either of his hands. A
second, and again a third time, when they had been refreshed
by a short rest, they ventured forth to the air with outspread
wings. At last the lesser of them came back without his
fellow, and with wings smeared with blood. He was amazed with
this imagination, and, being in a deep sleep, uttered a cry to
betoken his astonishment, filling the whole house with an
uproarious shout. When his servants questioned him, he related
his vision; and Thyra, thinking that she would be blest with
offspring, forbore her purpose to put off her marriage,
eagerly relaxing the chastity for which she had so hotly
prayed. Exchanging celibacy for love, she granted her husband
full joy of herself, requiting his virtuous self-restraint
with the fulness of permitted intercourse, and telling him
that she would not have married him at all, had she not
inferred from these images in the dream which he had related,
the certainty of her being fruitful.
By a device as cunning as it was strange,
Thyra's pretended modesty passed into an acknowledgment of her
future offspring. Nor did fate disappoint her hopes. Soon she
was the fortunate mother of Kanute and Harald. When these
princes had attained man's estate, they put forth a fleet and
quelled the reckless insolence of the Sclavs. Neither did they
leave England free from an attack of the same kind. Ethelred
was delighted with their spirit, and rejoiced at the violence
his nephews offered him; accepting an abominable wrong as
though it were the richest of benefits. For he saw far more
merit in their bravery than in piety. Thus he thought it
nobler to be attacked by foes than courted by cowards, and
felt that he saw in their valiant promise a sample of their
future manhood.
For he could not doubt that they would some day
attack foreign realms, since they so boldly claimed those of
their mother. He so much preferred their wrongdoing to their
service, that he passed over his daughter, and bequeathed
England in his will to these two, not scrupling to set the
name of grandfather before that of father. Nor was he unwise;
for he knew that it beseemed men to enjoy the sovereignty
rather than women, and considered that he ought to separate
the lot of his unwarlike daughter from that of her valiant
sons. Hence Thyra saw her sons inheriting the goods of her
father, not grudging to be disinherited herself. For she
thought that the preference above herself was honourable to
her, rather than insulting.
Kanute and Harald enriched themselves with
great gains from sea-roving, and most confidently aspired to
lay hands on Ireland. Dublin, which was considered the capital
of the country, was beseiged. Its king went into a wood
adjoining the city with a few very skilled archers, and with
treacherous art surrounded Kanute (who was present with a
great throng of soldiers witnessing the show of the games by
night), and aimed a deadly arrow at him from afar. It struck
the body of the king in front, and pierced him with a mortal
wound. But Kanute feared that the enemy would greet his peril
with an outburst of delight. He therefore wished his disaster
to be kept dark; and summoning voice with his last breath, he
ordered the games to be gone through without disturbance. By
this device he made the Danes masters of Ireland ere he made
his own death known to the Irish.
Who would not bewail the end of such a man,
whose self-mastery served to give the victory to his soldiers,
by reason of the wisdom that outlasted his life? For the
safety of the Danes was most seriously endangered, and was
nearly involved in the most deadly peril; yet because they
obeyed the dying orders of their general they presently
triumphed over those they feared.
Germ had now reached the extremity of his days,
having been blind for many years, and had prolonged his old
age to the utmost bounds of the human lot, being more anxious
for the life and prosperity of his sons than for the few days
he had to breathe. But so great was his love for his elder son
that he swore that he would slay with his own hand whosoever
first brought him news of his death. As it chanced, Thyra
heard sure tidings that this son had perished. But when no man
durst openly hint this to Germ, she fell back on her cunning
to defend her, and revealed by her deeds the mischance which
she durst not speak plainly out. For she took the royal robes
off her husband and dressed him in filthy garments, bringing
him other signs of grief also, to explain the cause of her
mourning; for the ancients were wont to use such things in the
performance of obsequies, bearing witness by their garb to the
bitterness of their sorrow. Then said Germ: "Dost thou declare
to me the death of Kanute?" (2) And Thyra said: "That is
proclaimed by thy presage, not by mine." By this answer she
made out her lord a dead man and herself a widow, and had to
lament her husband as soon as her son. Thus, while she
announced the fate of her son to her husband, she united them
in death, and followed the obsequies of both with equal
mourning; shedding the tears of a wife upon the one and of a
mother upon the other; though at that moment she ought to have
been cheered with comfort rather than crushed with disasters.
ENDNOTES:
(1) Utgard. Saxo, rationalising as usual, turns the mythical
home of the giants into some terrestrial place in his
vaguely-defined Eastern Europe.
(2) Kanute. Here the vernacular is far finer. The old king
notices "Denmark is drooping, dead must my son be!", puts on
the signs of mourning, and dies.