The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XLI. Of the Wedding and Slaying of Swanhild.

Jor­munrek was the name of a mighty king of those days, and his son was called Rand­ver. Now this king called his son to talk with him, and said, “Thou shalt fair on an er­rand of mine to King Jon­akr, with my coun­sel­lor Bik­ki, for with King Jon­akr is nour­ished Swan­hild, the daugh­ter of Sig­urd Fafnir’s-​bane; and I know for sure that she is the fairest may dwelling un­der the sun of this world; her above all oth­ers would I have to my wife, and thou shalt go woo her for me”

Rand­ver an­swered, “Meet and right, fair lord, that I should go on thine er­rands.”

So the king set forth this jour­ney in seem­ly wise, and they fare till they come to King Jon­akr’s abode, and be­hold Swan­hild, and have many thoughts con­cern­ing the trea­sure of her good­li­ness.

But on a day Rand­ver called the king to talk with him, and said, “Jor­munrek the King would fain be thy broth­er-​in-​law, for he has heard tell of Swan­hild, and his de­sire it is to have her to wife, nor may it be shown that she may be giv­en to any might­ier man than he is one.”

The King says, “This is an al­liance of great hon­our, for a man of fame he is.”

Gu­drun says, “A wa­ver­ing trust, the trust in luck that change not!”

Yet be­cause of the king’s fur­ther­ing, and all the mat­ters that went here­with, is the woo­ing ac­com­plished; and Swan­hild went to the ship with a good­ly com­pa­ny, and sat in the stem be­side the king’s son.

Then spake Bik­ki to Rand­ver, “How good and right it were if thou thy­self had to wife so love­ly a wom­an rather than the old man there.”

Good seemed that word to the heart of the king’s son, and he spake to her with sweet words, and she to him like wise.

So they came aland and go un­to the king, and Bik­ki said to him, “Meet and right it is, lord, that thou shouldst know what is be­fall­en, though hard it be to tell of, for the tale must be con­cern­ing thy be­guil­ing, where­as thy son has got­ten to him the full love of Swan­hild, nor is she oth­er than his har­lot; but thou, let not the deed be un­avenged.”

Now many an ill rede had he giv­en the king or this, but of all his ill re­des did this sting home the most; and still would the king hear­ken to all his evil re­des; where­fore he, who might no­wise still the wrath with­in him, cried out that Rand­ver should be tak­en and tied up to the gal­lows-​tree.

And as he was led to the gal­lows he took his hawk and plucked the feath­ers from off it, and bade show it to his fa­ther; and when the king saw it, then he said, “Now may folk be­hold that he deemeth my hon­our to be gone away from me, even as the feath­ers of this hawk;” and there­with he bade de­liv­er him from the gal­lows.

But in that while had Bik­ki wrought his will, and Rand­ver was dead-​slain.

Ane, more­over, Bik­ki spake, “Against none hast thou more wrongs to avenge thee of than against Swan­hild; let her die a shame­ful death.”

“Yea,” said the king, “we will do af­ter thy coun­sel.”

So she was bound in the gate of the burg, and horse were driv­en at her to tread her down; but when she opened her eyes wide, then the hors­es durst not tram­ple her; so when Bik­ki be­held that, he bade draw a bag over the head of her; and they did so, and there­with she lost her life. (1)

END­NOTES (1) In the prose Ed­da the slay­ing of Swan­hild is a spon­ta­neous and sud­den act on the part of the king. As he came back from hunt­ing one day, there sat Swan­hild wash­ing her linen, and it came in­to the king’s mind how that she was the cause of all his woe, so he and his men rode over her and slew her. — Tr.