The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XXXIX. The End of Atli and his Kin and Folk.

Now thought Atli the King that he had gained a mighty vic­to­ry, and spake to Gu­drun even as mock­ing her great­ly, or as mak­ing him­self great be­fore her. “Gu­drun,” saith he, “thus hast thou lost thy brethren, and thy very self hast brought it about.”

She an­swers, “In good lik­ing livest thou, where­as thou thrustest these slay­ings be­fore me, but may­hap­pen thou wilt rue it, when thou hast tried what is to come here­after; and of all I have, the longest-​lived mat­ter shall be the mem­ory of thy cru­el heart, nor shall it go well with thee whiles I live.”

He an­swered and said, “Let there be peace be­twixt us; I will atone for thy brethren with gold and dear-​bought things, even as thy heart may wish.”

She an­swers, “Hard for a long while have I been in our deal­ings to­geth­er, and now I say, that while Hog­ni was yet alive thou might­est have brought it to pass; but now mayest thou nev­er atone for my brethren in my heart; yet oft must we wom­en be over­borne by the might of you men; and now are all my kin­dred dead and gone, and thou alone art left to rule over me: where­fore now this is my coun­sel that we make a great feast; where­in I will hold the fu­ner­al of my broth­er and of thy kin­dred with­al.”

In such wise did she make her­self soft and kind in words, though far oth­er things for­sooth lay there­un­der, but he hear­kened to her glad­ly, and trust­ed in her words, where­as she made her­self sweet of speech.

So Gu­drun held the fu­ner­al feast for her brethren, and King Atli for his men, and ex­ceed­ing proud and great was this feast.

But Gu­drun for­gat not her woe, but brood­ed over it, how she might work some mighty shame against the king; and at night­fall she took to her the sons of King Atli and her as they played about the floor; the younglings waxed heavy of cheer, and asked what she would with them.

“Ask me not,” she said; “ye shall die, the twain of you!”

Then they an­swered, “Thou mayest do with thy chil­dren even as thou wilt, nor shall any hin­der thee, but shame there is to thee in the do­ing of this deed.”

Yet for all that she cut the throats of them.

Then the king asked where his sons were, and Gu­drun an­swered, “I will tell thee, and glad­den thine heart by the telling; lo now, thou didst make a great woe spring up for me in the slay­ing of my brethren; now hear­ken and hear my rede and my deed; thou hast lost thy sons, and their heads are be­come beakers on the board here, and thou thy­self hast drunk­en the blood of them blend­ed with wine; and their hearts I took and roast­ed them on a spit, and thou hast eat­en there­of.”

King Atli an­swered, “Grim art thou in that thou hast mur­dered thy sons, and giv­en me their flesh to eat, and lit­tle space pass­es be­twixt ill deed of thine and ill deed.”

Gu­drun said, “My heart is set on the do­ing to thee of as great shame as may be; nev­er shall the mea­sure ill be of full to such a king as thou art.”

The king said, “Wors­er deeds hast thou done than men have to tell of, and great un­wis­dom is there in such fear­ful re­des; most meet art thou to be burned on bale when thou hast first been smit­ten to death with stones, for in such wise wouldst thou have what thou hast gone a weary way to seek.”

She an­swered, “Thine own death thou fore­tellest, but an­oth­er death is fat­ed for me.”

And many oth­er words they spake in their wrath.

Now Hog­ni had a son left alive, hight Niblung, and great wrath of heart he bare against King Atli; and he did Gu­drun to wit that he would avenge his fa­ther. And she took his words well, and they fell to coun­sel to­geth­er there­over, and she said it would be great good­hap if it might be brought about.

So on a night, when the king had drunk­en, he gat him in bed, and when he was laid asleep, thith­er to him came Gu­drun and the son of Hog­ni.

Gu­drun took a sword and thrust it through the breast of King Atli, and they both of them set their hands to the deed, both she and the son of Hog­ni.

Then Atli the king awoke with the wound, and cried out; “No need of bind­ing or salv­ing here! — who art thou who hast done the deed?”

Gu­drun says, “Some­what have I, Gu­drun, wrought there­in, and some­what with­al the son of Hog­ni.”

Atli said, “Ill it be­seemed to thee to do this, though some­what of wrong was be­tween us; for thou wert wed­ded to me by the rede of thy kin, and dow­er paid I for thee; yea, thir­ty good­ly knights, and seem­ly maid­ens, and many men be­sides; and yet wert thou not con­tent, but if thou should rule over the lands King Budli owned: and thy moth­er-​in-​law full oft thou lettest sit a-​weep­ing.”

Gu­drun said, “Many false words hast thou spo­ken, and of naught I ac­count them; oft, in­deed, was I fell of mood, but much didst thou add there­to. Full oft in this thy house did frays be­fall, and kin fought kin, and friend fought friend, and made them­selves big one against the oth­er; bet­ter days had I whenas I abode with Sig­urd, when we slew kings, and took their wealth to us, but gave peace to whom­so would, and the great men laid them­selves un­der our hands, and might we gave to him of them who would have it; then I lost him, and a lit­tle thing was it that I should bear a wid­ow’s name, but the great­est of griefs that I should come to thee — I who had afore­time the no­blest of all kings, while for thee, thou nev­er barest out of the bat­tle aught but the wors­er lot.”

King Atli an­swered, “Naught true are thy words, nor will this our speech bet­ter the lot of ei­ther of us, for all is fall­en now to naught; but now do to me in seem­ly wise, and ar­ray my dead corpse in no­ble fash­ion.”

“Yea, that will I,” she says, “and let make for thee a good­ly grave, and build for thee a wor­thy abid­ing place of stone, and wrap thee in fair linen, and care for all that need­ful is.”

So there­with­al he died, and she did ac­cord­ing to her word: and then they cast fire in­to the hall.

And when the folk and men of es­tate awoke amid that dread and trou­ble, naught would they abide the fire, but smote each the oth­er down, and died in such wise; so there Atli the king, and all his folk, end­ed their life-​days. But Gu­drun had no will to live longer af­ter this deed so wrought, but nev­er­the­less her end­ing day was not yet come up­on her.

Now the Vol­sungs and the Giuk­ings, as folk tell in tale, have been the great­est-​heart­ed and the might­iest of all men, as ye may well be­hold writ­ten in the songs of old time.

But now with the tid­ings just told were these trou­bles stayed.