"She was always a strange child," sighed Freyvar. "She hardly ever wept, even when little, or showed love or seemed to want it. Mostly she went about by herself. She was willful, given to screaming rages, scorning woman's work, most fain to climb trees, swim—oh, she swims like an otter—range the wilds, later on hunt and fish and, yes, for a task, sharpen knives—"
"I've heard somewhat about that, of course," said Hrolf, 'Well, if her soul seems too much a man's, think who her father was."
"I think more who her mother was," growled Ulf. "Boyish girls I've seen before. Mostly they change after their breasts have budded. Skuld—she's quieted, though she's no less stubborn and sharp-tongued. The servants dread her, so spitefully does she treat them. What frets me most is how she's taken to what looks like spellcraft. Not just a rune cut on a fingernail for luck; no, I've heard her mutter and seen her make passes in ways unknown to me, who've dealt with many different kinds of folk. She's been glimpsed off on the heath, squatted before a dolmen, on her hands the blood of a bird she'd torn apart. She runs into yonder woods, heedless alike of wolves, outlaws, and trolls. Then she's gone long at a time, and won't say where she was or what she did. But when her cloak slipped aside, we've seen that she carried a shoulderblade with signs carved on it. I don't know where she got such a thing"
Hrolf winced. "I don't care for this myself," he said. "She could be only playing, however, maybe teasing you. How old is she now—twelve? Let me see if I can't win her trust and sound her out."
That evening he asked Skuld to sit and drink beside him in the high seat which Ulf had turned over to the king. She came readily.
By bright firelight, in a room warm and full of the smells of woodsmoke, roast meat, rushes on the floor, where flames crackled and talk and laughter rang, Skuld did not seem like any being of darkness. She was very beautiful. The slimness of her age was on her, but not its awkwardness; she flowed rather than walked. The unbound locks of a maiden tumbled straight and black over a simple white gown, down to her waist. That was blackness which shone, as shines a starlit lake. Her face was narrow and thinly chiseled, skin swan-white, lips start-lingly red. But mostly one saw the eyes, large and long-lashed, a changeable green which could shift from almost blue to almost golden, like sea-waves. Her voice was husky, though in anger it grew shrill and saw-edged.
Tonight she smiled and raised a goblet to clink upon her brother's horn. "Skaal," she said, "Welcome. I've seen too little of you."
"We must do something about that," Hrolf answered.
"When?" She was at once aquiver. "Here I sit in this wretched frog-pond, yawning and moldering, while you —Take me back with you!"
"In time, in time," said Hrolf. "You have yet to learn what beseems a wife."
"A wife!" she fleered. 'To cook, brew, wash, sweep, oversee, and wait on a pack of drunken oafs—to be swived whenever it pleases that one of them who calls me his, and each year set my life at stake, in blood and anguish, to farrow—No!"
"You'll have a high standing, Skuld. But you must be worthy of it, and that means doing its work. Do you think I'd not liefer be off chasing deer than sit and listen to the dreary squabbles of dullards and search for a judgment that'll quiet them down? Do you think a war or a robber-hunt has no long treks through rain, no camps in the mud, no hunger or thirst or vermin or runny guts? Do you—"
"Have done! You dwell in great halls, you make merry with friends and lemans, you fare across lands and seas, you meet new men and hear new tales, skalds chant your praises, you play draughts across whole kingdoms with men for pieces, and when you're dead they'll remember you, you won't rot forgotten. ... Do you think your father's daughter, born undersea to an elven woman, will not seek for the same?"
"Well . . . well, we must weigh the matter—" In unease, Hrolf recalled what ill things had been foretold of this girl. "Tell me, have you any memory of your first years?"
She calmed, her moods being always quick to shift; she stared before her and murmured: "I am not sure.
What does anybody remember? Sometimes it seems to me there was ... a huge green coolness, where shapes flitted and the tides pulsed like music. , . . Songs, plucked strings and shivering silver pipes, or was it only sea-birds, or a dream? My dreams are not the same as those of other folk."
"They say you skip off by yourself. That's not safe, you know." "For me it is." "Where do you go?"
Skuld laughed, a sweet sound. "No, brother mine, here comes my time. Tell me about the world outside, Leidhra, Roskilde, everything splendid. Oh, do!"
Wanting to gain her friendship, he obeyed. She listened bewitchingly, head cocked, gaze bright upon him, questions clever and eager. He thought maybe their father had misunderstood and no doom was in her after all.
But the moon was full tonight, and Ulf had told how Skuld fared abroad now and again after sunset. Before the company went to sleep, Hrolf drew a couple of his best men aside and ordered: "Find yourselves a hiding place where you can watch the yard. Stay awake by turns. If you see my sister go forth, come at once and awaken me."
"Waken the king, lord?" asked one of them doubtfully. "You could be having a dream—"
"Which could be meaningful for the land," Hrolf broke him off. "I know. Well, what my sister is about is maybe graver than that. So while we're here, I set that law aside. You will call me—by stealth, that nobody else may know."
For the same reason he refused Ulf’s offer of a thrall woman and entered the shut-bed alone. He left his clothes on. His thought was rewarded when, in thick gloom, the panel slid back and a hand shook him by the shoulder.
He followed the man outdoors, where he buckled on his sword. "She went off yonder," said the warrior, pointing toward the wildwood.
"Well done," said the king. "Wait here for me."
"You're not going alone, my lord!"
"Yes, I am, and I've no time to jaw about it." Hrolf hastened from the garth.
The moon was high and small, yet so bright that most stars were drowned. The air lay moveless, cracklingly cold. Rime covered the stubble and the heather beyond. He could barely make out the shape, in a blowing pale gown, which flitted ahead of him. She did not look behind her. He reckoned that if she did, he could stay unseen through this tricky light.
When she had gone into the woods, it grew harder to follow. Brush clawed, dry leaves rustled, twigs snapped. The moon-glow did naught but dapple blackness. Skuld fared more swiftly and softly than Hrolf had awaited.
Of a sudden he stumbled out onto a meadow. He stopped short and drew a whetted breath.
Trees lowered hoary-headed around the sere grass, whose frost glimmered beneath the moon. In the middle of it stood a high bauta stone, a lichenous slab raised long ago by a folk unknown to a god unknown. The howl of a wolf came, distance-dwindled to little save a shiver, as if the chill gnawing inward through his flesh had begun to speak.
Before the stone stood a woman. Tall and full-formed, in sheening dress and cloak, she was ringed around by awe. Hair more nightful than the sky streamed past a face which recalled his sister's. Mainly he saw her eyes. Even in the wan moonshine, they shone hawk-golden. Her upward-turned hands bore a naked sword.
"Wayfarer, halt," she sang more than said, "and wander no further, ere in the end you must."
"Am I in a dream and all unawakened?" he asked. His voice seemed as far off as the wolfs, and he as far from himself. "Did my man do my bidding?"
"Sleep you or wake you, say what you hunt here, Hrolf son of Helgi King."
"My sister I follow."
"Seek her no longer. Search would find sorrow only. Grief soon enough is given to men; never foreknow your weird. Go home again, King, take hold of the rudder, strengthfully steering forward. Mightily raise what men will remember."
"Who is this hailing Hrolf?"
"Ask me not that, for only the death-doomed need to bear names for crying."
"How are you here, and why do you warn me, lady of loveliness? Have you below your heart ever borne her, the girl
who brings grief on me?"
"A word may not change when once it is uttered. Not even Norns can that. Hear me, though, son of Helgi my darling: weal do I wish for you. Let the girl go, and live out your lifespan. Deep may you drink of sunlight, live every day in love and in gladness, dreading no dark to come; at last may you stand and laugh at the Norns, so winning the war you lost.
"See what I bear, this sword that hight Skofnung. Dearly from dwarves I got it. Wield the blade well, and wide may its fame go, high as of Hrolf himself. Strike down the illdoer, stand for the folk, O Hrolf, son of him I loved."
He knelt to take it from her; and she was gone; and he went back.
With Gram, which Sigurdh bore against Fafnir, and with Tyrfing the accursed, and with Lövi of which more later, Skofnung was one of the magical swords, that never rusted and always bit. Goodly it was to see, long and broad, shimmering now brown and now blue. The haft was of a black, hard, unknown wood, gold-entwined, and on the pommel was a many-faced stone, clear white but splintering light into fiery hues. Runes were graven in the crossguard which none could read.
Hrolf tried no more to find out what Skuld did in the wildwood.
IV
Svipdag must attend King Adhils on his rounds and later at Uppsala. But when Queen Yrsa returned to the head burg, the young man was often at her side. The king was displeased. He could do nothing much about it, though, for nothing untoward happened. When those two were together, it was always in sight of others. If they were not always in hearing, such of their talk as got heard was harmless. Svipdag spoke mostly of what had gone on and what was told around his father's lonely steading, she of the wider world she knew, adding many wise redes for him.
As their friendship waxed, he came more and more to tell her his hopes and dreams, while she more and more remembered aloud for him her days with King Helgi. They did their best not to let this be overheard. Still, it could not altogether be hidden from Adhils how the wind blew.
He kept his own counsel and stayed smooth toward Svipdag. Indeed he had gain from this new guardsman. Svipdag was the strongest and ablest in the whole troop, ever the winner at most sports and games. Nonetheless, being fair-minded, polite, willing to listen when others spoke, withal merry, he kept their liking.
Thus the year passed, and spring came again, when Svipdag and Yrsa walked under blossoms, and summer's great greenness.
Then the king got war-word. The berserkers he had cast out were come home to Svithjodh. In the Baltic islands and along the shores of Finland and Wendland, they had found ships, they had gathered crews of ruffians, and now they were on Lake Malar, looting, killing, and burning everywhere around.
Adhils blinked at Svipdag. "This is somewhat because of you, my friend," he said in his mildest tone. "Let you, therefore, go against them. You shall have as many men as you need."
The youth flushed. "I'm hardly ready to lead a host—" he began.
"And stand in its van to be killed!" said Yrsa hotly.
"No, no, here's your chance to prove yourself," smiled Adhils. "You shall be the leader."
Svipdag thought a while before he answered, "Then I want from you my own following of twelve men, whom I pick myself."
Adhils made a wry mouth. He could not well say other than: "That you shall have."
"Any of mine," offered Yrsa. Svipdag grew a deeper red as he thanked her.
He chose his dozen carefully, both from among those who favored the queen and those who unquestioningly upheld the king. All were strong warriors and glad to take him as their head below Adhils. With them he swore brotherhood, in the temple on the bracelet of three thick gold rings after it was dipped in the blood of a bullock, calling to witness Frey of the earth, Njord of the sea, and Thor of the heavens. Thereafter he and his captains led forth a host. The king stayed home.
Well had Svipdag hearkened to older men during the past year. When he set up his swine-array and standards, he knew many tricks of war, such as laying down caltrops in the long grass.
The vikings charged. The fighting grew stiff. They were driven back, and those who got in among the caltrops fared ill. One berserker died, and a heap of rovers. The rest fled to their ships and hurried off.
Svipdag bore this news to Uppsala. The king thanked him much. Queen Yrsa said before the packed hall: "In truth, better men are housed here when one man like Svipdag sits among us, than when your berserkers did."
Sourly, the king agreed. He gave a feast and gifts to the warriors. It was as nothing to what the queen gave a week later.
The year wore away. Svipdag became marshal of the guard, which brought him a herd of duties. He was likewise often out hunting, fishing, boating, swimming, visiting as well as being visited. In his house, besides servants, he kept a lively wench or two. Yet he found ever more excuses to see Yrsa. Her husband glowered.
Meanwhile the berserkers who were left brooded on their hatred. They gathered a larger gang than before, and early next summer sailed back to Svithjodh. It seemed to them they had made a mistake earlier in landing near Uppsala, where the king's crack fighters were on hand.
This time they left their ships well north, on the Gulf of Bothnia, and trekked overland to the mountains, thence southward till they reached the country of the Westmen. From there they meant to strike swiftly at Uppsala. Along the way they plundered, slew, tortured, raped, laid waste, and drew into their band every kind of outlaw and evildoer.
Word reached Adhils. Again he bade Svipdag go against them. This time he would have fewer folk than erstwhile —a third fewer than the wolf pack—for the berserkers had also chosen their season craftily. Able-bodied men were scattered far and wide getting in the crops.
'I’ll take a different way with the household troops," said Adhils, "more roundabout, that the foe be unaware. We can arrive at the same time as you, who'll be kept to the pace of older yeomen and untrained lads among those we can summon. Meet the foe head-on. When he has thought for none save you, I'll fall on him from behind."
Svipdag scowled. "Lord, it won't be easy, keeping track not just of the vikings but of each other."
"We'll use scouts and runners," said Adhils loftily, and would hear no more.
Yrsa found a chance to walk with Svipdag, down by the gleaming river, none but an old deaf tirewoman to watch them. "I fear for you," she said in woe. "I feel in my marrow, Adhils thinks it'll do no harm if you lose and bite the hillside. Then those madmen can be talked into supposing their honor is avenged. They can be bought off cheaply, or even—" a crawling went over her—"taken back among us."
He looked down at the bent head and answered low, "All men must dree their weirds. Yet what you fear shall not happen while blood remains in me, my lady."
She cast him a look he had seen before, in the eyes of a netted swan.
Awkward though their hastily gathered levy was, Svipdag and his captains arrived sooner than the berserkers had awaited. In a dale of steep red walls and rushing waters, under greenwood and across flowery meadows, a hard fight began.
The berserkers had whipped their unruly followers into a team. Back and back they drove the raw, outnumbered Swedes. Never a sign was there of the king or his trained household troops.
Now it is to be told of Svip the yeoman, that he awakened from sleep, sighed deeply and said to Hvitserk and Beigadh: "Sore is the need of Svipdag, your brother, for he's in battle not far hence and has great odds against him. He's lost an eye and gotten many wounds besides. Three berserkers has he felled; three are left."
Swiftly they armed themselves and what men they could get, and hastened to where their father had told them. When they reached the dale, strife was still going on in the light night. By then, the vikings had twice as many as Svipdag. Mightily had he fought, but he reeled from his hurts and his men lay slain in windrows. And still the king had not come to help him.
Yet the foe were also worn down. It is no slight thing to wield iron hour after hour; and they too had suffered wounds and losses aplenty. The fray had b
roken into knots of men who lurched about, battering with weapons blunted into clubs, or crept away and struggled for breath. Upon this burst a band small but fresh, well-led, bearing newly whetted steel, and wild for revenge.
The brothers went straight to where the berserkers were, and the swapping of blows ended in the deaths of the latter. It needed only a few more killings for fear to sweep through the outlaw gang. Svipdag's men rallied and joined a charge on them. They broke. Those who asked for their lives gave themselves over to the brothers. A huge booty fell likewise to these.
Because they wanted to go home, and anyhow no garth hereabouts could feed them all, the Swedes returned straight to Uppsala. Svipdag went along on a litter, in the care of his brothers. He had swooned and they were unsure whether he would live.
Reaching the burg and royal hall, they found Adhils already there. He thanked them aloud for this work of manhood, lamenting that he had lost touch with the levy and been unable to find it in time. But erelong word leaked out that the king had been near the spot and forbidden his troop to go further.
Svipdag bore grievous hurts. Worst were two gashes on his arms and one in his head, which must be sewn up. And his left eye was gone. Sickness came into his flesh. Long he lay in a coalbed of fever, muttering or raving or heavily adrowse. Queen Yrsa tended him. She paid no heed to pus and stink, she washed and soothed him as if he had been her own child or her own man, and when he began to mend, she brought him milk and broth and spent as many hours at his bedside as he could stay awake.
Healing at last, gaunt and slow-moving, he went between his brothers to stand before Adhils, at eventide in the hall. "How good to see you back," said the king, not as if he meant it. "What would you of me?"
"Leave to go." said Svipdag. He kept his gaze from Yrsa, who gasped and brought a hand to her lips. "I'll seek a lord who shows me more honor than you. Ill have you paid me for warding this land and for the victories I must win on your behalf."
Hrolf Kraki's Saga Page 14