Swan's Path
Page 13
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THAT MORNING, VERY early, Erik bestirred himself, and dressed in a new tunic Gudruda had woven for him that summer. Now, Erik slept in a loft under the hall’s deep gable, far from the men’s door. When he came to the ladder and looked down over the hall, all was gloomy and gray: the fire had burned down to its coals, but the sun was not yet risen. Even so it seemed to Erik that everyone lay even as they had when he had gone up abed: he thought he must be the day’s first riser and was very glad of it. But when he crept down the ladder and went along the warm firepit, then he saw the bench empty where Swanhild and Skarphedin had lain.
Straightway he went out into the garth and looked in the barns and outbuildings, but he found no one. Shivering, he went back indoors. The sleeping bodies stirred at the cold new air that swept in at his back, but none got up. Erik knelt before the highseat and looked down on the stones. There seemed great sadness in his face. And after a long space he said to himself, aloud, ‘So, I will see her never again.’
At that he fell a-shivering, and it seemed to him that the stones gave him no warmth: he went back up the ladder, undressed and fell into bed. Even so he might not warm himself, but curled up into a ball underneath the covers, unsleeping.
Slowly the gray cloak of the twilight was lifted from off the hall, and the cream-hued dawn light fell in through the smoke-hole. Sounds came up from below: folk were rising and going out to piss. Others raked the ashes for coals and set to building the fire for the morn-meal. Loud was the hall with all those guests: there was talk of the last hay-fields to be mown, the sheep, and the outlook for the winter. But Erik lay still abed, until at last his mother called up to him from the foot of the ladder and summoned him to eat. Then Erik got up again, and put on an old shirt and his trousers and shoes, and went to bid the guests goodbye.