Thorgerd had a horse saddled at once and set off with two men. They rode that evening and into the night until they reached Borg. Thorgerd went straight into the fire-room. Asgerd greeted her and asked whether they had eaten their evening meal.
Thorgerd replied in a loud voice, ‘I have had no evening meal, nor will I do so until I go to join Freyja*. I know no better course of action than my father’s. I do not want to live after my father and brother are dead.’
She went to the door to Egil’s bed-closet and called out, ‘Father, open the door, I want both of us to go the same way.’
Egil unfastened the door. Thorgerd walked in to the bed-closet and closed the door again. Then she lay down in another bed there.
Then Egil said, ‘You do well, my daughter, in wanting to follow your father. You have shown great love for me. How can I be expected to want to live with such great sorrow?’
Then they were silent for a while.
Then Egil said, ‘What are you doing, my daughter? Are you chewing something?’
‘I’m chewing dulse,’† she replied, ‘because I think it will make me feel worse. Otherwise I expect I will live too long.’
‘Is it bad for you?’ asked Egil.
‘Very bad,’ said Thorgerd. ‘Do you want some?’
‘What difference does it make?’ he said.
A little later she called out for some water to drink, and she was brought something to drink.
Then Egil said, ‘That happens if you eat dulse, it makes you even thirstier.’
‘Would you like a drink, father?’ she asked.
She passed him the animal horn and he took a great draught.
Then Thorgerd said, ‘We’ve been tricked. This is milk.’
Egil bit a lump from the horn, as much as he could get his teeth into, then threw the horn away.
Then Thorgerd said, ‘What will we do now? Our plan has failed. Now I want us to stay alive, father, long enough for you to compose a poem in Bodvar’s memory and I will carve it on to a rune-stick. Then we can die if we want to. I doubt whether your son Thorstein would ever compose a poem for Bodvar, and it is unseemly if his memory is not honoured, because I do not expect us to be sitting there at the feast when it is.’
Egil said it was unlikely that he would be able to compose a poem even if he attempted to.
‘But I will try,’ he said.
Another of Egil’s sons, called Gunnar, had died shortly before.
Then Egil composed this poem:
1. My tongue is sluggish
for me to move,
my poem’s scales
ponderous to raise.
The god’s prize gods prize: poetry. The dwarfs made the mead of poetry from the blood of a wise man, and a giant held them to ransom for it. Odin was given a drink of the mead by the giantess who guarded it, then flew back to the gods and spat it out for them.
is beyond my grasp,
tough to drag out
from my mind’s haunts.
2. Since heavy sobbing
is the cause -
how hard to pour forth
from the mind’s root
the prize that Frigg’s Frigg’s progeny: the gods; their prize…
progeny found, borne from the world of giants: poetry
borne of old
from the world of giants,
3. unflawed, which Bragi Bragi: god of poetry
inspired with life
on the craft
of the watcher-dwarf.
Blood surges Blood: sea, made from the blood of a giant; also the mead of poetry.
from the giant’s wounded neck,
crashes on the death-dwarf’s
boathouse door. boathouse door: rocks, cliffs; also the gates of Hel (i.e. loss hinders Egil’s verse-making).
4. My stock
stands on the brink,
pounded as plane-trees
on the forest’s rim,
no man is glad
who carries the bones
of his dead kinsman
out of the bed.
5. Yet I will
first recount
my father’s death
and mother’s loss,
carry from my word-shrine
the timber that I build
my poem from,
leafed with language.
6. Harsh was the rift
that the wave hewed
in the wall
of my father’s kin;
I know it stands
unfilled and open,
my son’s breach
that the sea wrought.
7. The sea-goddess
has ruffled me,
stripped me bare
of my loved ones:
the ocean severed
my family’s bonds,
the tight knot
that ties me down.
8. If by sword I might
avenge that deed,
the brewer of waves brewer of waves: sea-god
would meet his end;
smite the wind’s brother wind’s brother: sea
that dashes the bay,
do battle against
the sea-god’s wife.
9. Yet I felt
I lacked the might
to seek justice against
the killer of ships, killer of ships: sea
for it is clear
to all eyes,
how an old man
lacks helpers.
10. The sea has robbed
me of much,
my kinsmen’s deaths
are harsh to tell,
after the shield
of my family
retreated down
the god’s joyful road. road: i.e. to death
11. Myself I know
that in my son
grew the makings
of a worthy man,
had that shield-tree shield-tree: man, warrior
reached manhood,
then earned the claim earned the claim of war’s arms: become a warrior; or be claimed (in death) by the war-god
of war’s arms.
12. Always he prized
his father’s words
highest of all, though
the world said otherwise.
He shored me up,
defended me,
lent my strength
the most support.
13. My lack of brothers
often enters my thoughts moon-bears: giants; their winds: thoughts (this image occurs elsewhere, but its original justification (myth?) is now lost).
where the winds
of moon-bears rage,
I think of the other the other: Thorolf?
as the battle grows,
scout around
and wonder
14. which other valiant
warrior stands
by my side
in the peril;
I often need him
when facing foes.
When friends dwindle
I am wary to soar.
15. It is rare to find
one to trust
amongst men who dwell
beneath Odin’s gallows, Odin’s gallows: the tree of life (Yggdrasil) where Odin sacrificed himself to himself in order to gain wisdom
for the dark-minded
destroyer of kin
swaps his brother’s
death for treasure.
16. I often feel
when the ruler of wealth
… [defective verse]
17. It is also said
that no one regains
his son’s worth
without bearing
another offspring
that other men
hold in esteem
as his brother’s match.
18. I do not relish
the company of men
though each of them might
live in peace with me:
my wife’s son
&
nbsp; has come in search
of friendship
to One-Eye’s hall. One-Eye: Odin; his hall: Valhalla
19. But the lord of the sea,
brewer of storms,
seems to oppose me,
his mind set.
I cannot hold
my head upright,
the ground of my face,
my thoughts’ steed
20. ever since the raging
surf of heat surf of heat: fever
snatched from the world
that son of mine
whom I knew
to shun disgrace,
avoid words
of ill repute.
21. I remember still
when the Gauts’ friend Gauts’ friend: Odin
raised high
to the gods’ world
the ash that grew
from my stock,
the tree bearing
my wife’s kin.
22. I was in league
with the lord of spears, lord of spears: Odin
pledged myself loyal
to believe in him,
before he broke off
his friendship with me,
the guardian of chariots,
architect of victory.
23. I do not worship
Vilir’s brother, Vilir: one of Odin’s two brothers who were minor deities
guardian of the gods,
through my own longing,
though in good ways too
the friend of wisdom
has granted me
redress for affliction.
24. He who does battle hell-wolf: Fenrir, the wolf that kills Odin in the Doom of the Gods
and tackles the hell-wolf
gave me the craft craft: poetry
that is beyond reproach,
and the nature
that I could reveal
those who plotted against me
as my true enemies.
25. Now my course is tough:
Death, close sister
of Odin’s enemy, sister of Odin’s enemy: Death (Hel) was the sister of the wolf Fenrir, whom Odin fought; their father was Loki, the treacherous god
stands on the ness:
with resolution
and without remorse
I will gladly
await my own.
Egil began to recover his spirits as he proceeded to compose the poem, and when it was finished, he delivered it to Asgerd and Thorgerd and his farmhands, left his bed and sat down in the high seat. He called the poem The Loss of My Sons. After that, Egil held a funeral feast according to ancient custom. When Thorgerd went home, Egil presented her with parting gifts.
80 Egil lived at Borg for a long time and grew to an old age. He is not said to have been involved in disputes with anyone in Iceland. Nor is anything told about him duelling or killing anyone after he settled down in Iceland.
People also say that Egil did not leave Iceland after the incidents that were described earlier, the main reason being that he could not stay in Norway because of the wrongs that the king felt he had done him, as narrated before. Egil lived lavishly, for he did not lack the means to do so, and he had the temperament as well.
King Hakon, King Athelstan’s foster-son, ruled Norway for a long while. In Hakon’s later years, King Eirik’s sons went to Norway and disputed the control of the realm with him. They fought several battles and Hakon invariably won. Their last battle was in Hordaland, at Stord in Fitjar. King Hakon won the battle, but was fatally wounded, and Eirik’s sons took over the kingdom afterwards.
Arinbjorn the Hersir was with Eirik’s son Harald, and became his counsellor and was granted great revenues by him. He was in charge of his forces and defences. Arinbjorn was an outstanding and victorious warrior. He lived on the revenues from the Fjordane province.
Egil Skallagrimsson received word that there was a new king in Norway and that Arinbjorn had returned to his lands there and was held in high respect. Then Egil composed a poem in Arinbjorn’s praise and sent it to him in Norway, and this is the beginning of it:
1. I am quick to sing
a noble man’s praises.
but stumble for words
about misers;
freely I speak
of a king’s deeds,
but stay silent
about the people’s lies.
2. Replete with taunts
for bearers of lies,
I sing the favours
of my friends;
I have visited many
seats of mild kings,
with the ingenuous
intent of a poet.
3. Once I had
incurred the wrath
of a mighty king
of Yngling’s line; Yngling: ancestor of the kings of Norway
I drew a bold hat
over my black hair,
paid a visit
to the war-lord
4. where that mighty
maker of men
ruled the land from beneath
his helmet of terror;
In York
the king reigned,
rigid of mind,
over rainy shores.
5. The shining glare
from Eirik’s brow
was not safe to behold
nor free from terror;
when the moons moons of… face: eyes
of that tyrant’s face
shone, serpent-like,
with their awesome glow.
6. Yet I ventured
my poem to the king,
the bed-prize that Odin bed-prize… slithered: Odin stole the mead of poetry after entering the giantess Gunnlod’s chamber in the guise of a serpent; frothing horn: mead of poetry
had slithered to claim,
his frothing horn
passed around
to quench
all men’s ears.
7. No one praised
the beauty of the prize
my poetry earned
in that lavish house
when I accepted from the king
in reward for my verse
my own sable head
to stand my hat on.
8. My head I won
and with it the two
dark jewels jewels: i.e. eyes
of my beetling brow,
and the mouth
that had delivered
my head’s ransom
at the king’s knee.
9. A field of teeth there
and my tongue I took back,
and my flapping ears
endowed with sound;
such a gift
was prized higher
than earning gold
from a famous king.
10. By my side, better
than every other
spreader of treasure,
stood my loyal friend
whom I truly trusted,
growing in stature
with his every deed.
11. Arinbjorn,
paragon of men,
who lifted me alone
above the king’s anger:
the king’s friend,
who never told untruth
in the warlike
ruler’s hall.
12. And… [defective verse]
... the pillar,
glorifier
of my deeds,
which…
…
... the scourge
of Halfdan’s line.
13. I would be deemed
a thief from my friend
and undeserving
of Odin’s horn,
unworthy of praise
and a breaker of oaths
if I omitted
to repay his favour.
14 Now it is clear
where to present
my praise of the mighty
leader of men
before the people,
to their many
eyes,
the tortuous path
that my verse treads.
15. The stuff of my praise
is soon honed
by my voice’s plane
for my friend,
Thorir’s kinsman,
for double, triple
choices lie
upon my tongue.
16. First I will name –
as most men know
and is ever borne
to people’s ears –
how generous
he always seemed,
the bear whose land
the birch fears. land the birch fears: fire, hearth; the name Arinbjorn means ‘hearth-bear’
17. All people
watch in marvel
how he sates
men with riches;
Frey and Njord
have endowed
rock-bear
with wealth’s force.
18. Endless wealth
flows to the hands
of the chosen son
The Sagas of the Icelanders Page 27