The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XXXIII. Gudrun wedded to Alii.

Now so it is, that whoso heareth these tid­ings sayeth, that no such an one as was Sig­urd was left be­hind him in the world, nor ev­er was such a man brought forth be­cause of all the worth of him, nor may his name ev­er min­ish by eld in the Dutch Tongue nor in all the North­ern Lands, while the world standeth fast.

The sto­ry tells that, on a day, as Gu­drun sat in her bow­er, she fell to say­ing, “Bet­ter was life in those days when I had Sig­urd; he who was far above oth­er men as gold is above iron, or the leek over oth­er grass of the field, or the hart over oth­er wild things; un­til my brethren be­grudged me such a man, the first and best of all men; and so they might not sleep or they had slain him. Huge clam­our made Grani when he saw his mas­ter and lord sore wound­ed, and then I spoke to him even as with a man, but he fell droop­ing down to the earth, for he knew that Sig­urd was slain.”

There­after Gu­drun gat her gone in­to the wild woods, and heard on all ways round about her the howl­ing of wolves, and deemed death a mer­ri­er thing than life. Then she went till she came to the hall of King Alf, and sat there in Den­mark with Tho­ra, the daugh­ter of Hakon, for sev­en sea­sons, and abode with good wel­come. And she set forth her needle­work be­fore her and did there­in­to many deeds and great, and fair plays af­ter the fash­ion of those days, swords and byrnies, and all the gear of kings, and the ship of King Sig­mund sail­ing along the land; yea, and they wrought there how they fought, Sigar and Siggeir, south in Fion. Such was their dis­port; and now Gu­drun was some­what so­laced of her grief.

So Grimhild comes to hear where Gu­drun has take up her abode, and she calls her sons to talk with her, and asks whether they will make atone­ment to Gu­drun for her son and her hus­band, and said that it was but meet and right to do so.

Then Gun­nar spake, and said that he would atone for her sor­rows with gold.

So they send for their friends, and ar­ray their hors­es, their helms, and their shields, and their byrnies, and all their war- gear; and their jour­ney was fur­nished forth in the no­blest wise, and no cham­pi­on who was of the great men might abide at home; and their hors­es were clad in mail-​coats, and ev­ery knight of them had his helm done over with gold or with sil­ver.

Grimhild was of their com­pa­ny, for she said that their er­rand would nev­er be brought fair­ly to pass if she sat at home.

There were well five hun­dred men, and no­ble men rode with them. There was Walde­mar of Den­mark, and Ey­mod and Jarisleif with­al. So they went in­to the hall of King Alf, and there abode them the Long­beards and Franks, and Sax­ons: they fared with all their war- gear, and had over them red fur-​coats. Even as the song says –

“Byrnies short cut, Strong helms ham­mered, Girt with good swords, Red hair gleam­ing.”

They were fain to choose good gifts for their sis­ter, and spake soft­ly to her, but in none of them would she trow. Then Gun­nar brought un­to her a drink min­gled with hurt­ful things, and this she must needs drink, and with the king there­of she had no more mem­ory of their guilt against her.

But in that drink was blend­ed the might of the earth and the sea with the blood of her son; and in that horn were all let­ters cut and red­dened with blood, as is said here­un­der –

“On the horn’s face were there All the kin of let­ters Cut aright and red­dened, How should I rede them right­ly? The ling-​fish long Of the land of Hadding, Wheat-​ears un­shorn, And wild things’ in­wards.

In that beer were min­gled Many ills to­geth­er, Blood of all the wood And brown-​burnt acorns, The black dew of the hearth, The God-​doomed dead beast’s in­wards, And the swine’s liv­er sod­den Be­cause all wrongs that dead­ens.

And so now, when their hearts are-​brought anigh to each oth­er, great cheer they made: then came Grimhild to Gu­drun, and spake.

“All hail to thee, daugh­ter! I give thee gold and all kinds of good things to take to thee af­ter thy fa­ther, dear bought rings and bed-​gear of the maids of the Huns, the most cour­te­ous and well dight of all wom­en; and thus is thy hus­band atoned for: and there­after shalt thou be giv­en to Atli, the mighty king, and be mis­tress of all his might. Cast not all thy friends aside for one man’s sake, but do ac­cord­ing to our bid­ding.”

Gu­drun an­swers, “Nev­er will I wed Atli the King; un­seem­ly it is for us to get off­spring be­twixt us.”

Grimhild says, “Nour­ish not thy wrath; it shall be to thee as if Sig­urd and Sig­mund were alive when thou hast borne sons.”

Gu­drun says, “I can­not take my heart from thoughts of him, for he was the first of all men.”

Grimhild says, “So it is shapen that thou must have this king and none else.”

Says Gu­drun, “Give not this man to me, for an evil thing shall come up­on thy kin from him, and to his own sons shall he deal evil, and be re­ward­ed with a grim re­venge there­after.”

Then waxed Grimhild fell at those words, and spake, “Do even as we bid thee, and take there­fore great hon­our, and our friend­ship, and the steads with­al called Vin­bjorg and Val­bjorg.”

And such might was in the words of her, that even so must it come to pass.

Then Gu­drun spake, “Thus then must it needs be­fall, how­so­ev­er against the will of me, and for lit­tle joy shall it be and for great grief.”

Then men leaped on their hors­es, and their wom­en were set in wains. So they fared four days a-​rid­ing and oth­er four a-​ship­board, and yet four more again by land and road, till at the last they came to a cer­tain high-​built hall; then came to meet Gu­drun many folk throng­ing; and an ex­ceed­ing­ly good­ly feast was there made, even as the word had gone be­tween ei­ther kin, and it passed forth in most proud and state­ly wise. And at that feast drinks Atli his bridal with Gu­drun, but nev­er did her heart laugh on him, and lit­tle sweet and kind was their life to­geth­er.