The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XXXVII. The Battle in the Burg of King Atli.

Then they rode un­to the king’s hall, and King Atli ar­rayed his host for bat­tle, and the ranks were so set forth that a cer­tain wall there was be­twixt them and the brethren.

“Wel­come hith­er,” said he. “De­liv­er un­to me that plen­teous gold which is mine of right; even the wealth which Sig­urd once owned, and which is now Gu­drun’s of right.”

Gun­nar an­swered, “Nev­er gettest thou that wealth; and men of might must thou meet here, or ev­er we lay by life if thou wilt deal with us in bat­tle; ah, be­like thou settest forth this feast like a great man, and wouldst not hold thine hand from erne and wolf!”

“Long ago I had it in my mind,” said Atli, to take the lives of you, and be lord of the gold, and re­ward you for that deed of shame, where­in ye be­guiled the best of all your affin­ity; but now shall I re­venge him.”

Hog­ni an­swered, “Lit­tle will it avail to lie long brood­ing over that rede, leav­ing the work un­done.”

And there­with they fell to hard fight­ing, at the first brunt with shot.

But there­with­al came the tid­ings to Gu­drun, and when she heard there­of she grew ex­ceed­ing wroth, and cast her man­tle from her, and ran out and greet­ed those new-​com­ers, and kissed her brethren, and showed them all love, — and the last of all greet­ings was that be­twixt them.

Then said she, “I thought I had set forth coun­sel where­by ye should not come hith­er, but none may deal with his shapen fate.” And with­al she said, “Will it avail aught to seek for peace?”

But stout­ly and grim­ly they said nay there­to. So she sees that the game goeth sore­ly against her brethren, and she gath­ers to her great stout­ness of heart, and does on her a mail-​coat and takes to her a sword, and fights by her brethren, and goes as far for­ward as the bravest of man-​folk; and all spoke in one wise that nev­er saw any fair­er de­fence than in her.

Now the men fell thick, and far be­fore all oth­ers was the fight­ing of those brethren, and the bat­tle en­dured a long while un­to mid­day; Gun­nar and Hog­ni went right through the folk of Atli, and so tells the tale that all the mead ran red with blood; the sons of Hog­ni with­al set on stout­ly.

Then spake Atli the king, “A fair host and a great have we, and mighty cham­pi­ons with­al, and yet have many of us fall­en, and but evil am I apaid in that nine­teen of my cham­pi­ons are slain, and but left six alive.”

And there­with­al was there a lull in the bat­tle.

Then spake Atli the king, “Four brethren were we, and now am I left alone; great affin­ity I gat to me, and deemed my for­tune well sped there­by; a wife I had, fair and wise, high of mind, and great of heart; but no joy­ance may I have of her wis­dom, for lit­tle peace is be­twixt us, — but ye — ye have slain many of my kin, and be­guiled me of realm and rich­es, and for the great­est of all woes have slain my sis­ter with­al.”

Quoth Hog­ni, “Why bab­blest thou thus? Thou wert the first to break the peace. Thou didst take my kinswom­an and pine her to death by hunger, and didst mur­der her, and take her wealth; an ug­ly deed for a king! — meet for mock­ing and laugh­ter I deem it, that thou must needs make long tale of thy woes; rather will I give thanks to the Gods that thou fall­est in­to ill.”