HIÖRDIS.
The blame is thine own; bravely and firmly it becomes a man to act.
When I set that hard proof for him who should win me, my thought was
all of thee;—yet couldst thou——!
SIGURD.
I knew Gunnar’s soul-sickness; I alone could heal it;—was there
aught for me to choose? And yet, had I known what I now know, I
scarce dare answer for myself; for great is the might of love.
HIÖRDIS.
[_With animation._] But now, Sigurd!—A baleful hap has held us apart
all these years; now the knot is loosed; the days to come shall make
good the past to us.
SIGURD.
[_Shaking his head._] It cannot be; thou knowest we must part again.
HIÖRDIS.
Nay, we must not. I love thee, that may I now say unashamed; for my
love is no mere dalliance, like a weak woman’s; were I a man—by all
the Mighty Ones, I could still love thee, even as now I do! Up then,
Sigurd! Happiness is worth a daring deed; we are both free if we but
will it, and then the game is won.
SIGURD.
Free? What meanest thou?
HIÖRDIS.
What is Dagny to thee? What can she be to thee? No more than I count
Gunnar in my secret heart. What matter though two worthless lives be
wrecked?
SIGURD.
Hiördis, Hiördis!
HIÖRDIS.
Let Gunnar stay where he is; let Dagny fare with her father to
Iceland; I will follow thee in harness of steel, whithersoever thou
wendest. [SIGURD _makes a movement._] Not as thy wife will I follow
thee; for I have belonged to another, and the woman lives that has
lain by thy side. No, Sigurd, not as thy wife, but like those mighty
women, like Hildë’s sisters,[15] will I follow thee, and fire thee
to strife and to manly deeds, so that thy name shall be heard over
every land. In the sword-game will I stand by thy side; I will fare
forth among thy warriors in the storm and on the viking-raid; and
when thy death-song is sung, it shall tell of Sigurd and Hiördis in
one!
SIGURD.
Once was that my fairest dream; now, it is too late. Gunnar and
Dagny stand between us, and that by right. I crushed my new-born
love for Gunnar’s sake;—how great soever my suffering, I cannot undo
my deed. And Dagny—full of faith and trust she left her home and
kindred; never must she dream that I longed for Hiördis as often as
she took me to her breast.
HIÖRDIS.
And for such a cause wilt thou lay a burden on all thy life! To what
end hast thou strength and might, and therewith all noble gifts of
the mind? And deemest thou it can now beseem me to dwell beneath
Gunnar’s roof? Nay, Sigurd, trust me, there are many tasks awaiting
such a man as thou. Erik is king in Norway—do thou rise against him!
Many goodly warriors will join thee and swear thee fealty; with
unconquerable might will we press onward, and fight and toil
unresting, until thou art seated on the throne of Hårfager!
SIGURD.
Hiördis, Hiördis, so have I dreamt in my wild youth; let it be
forgotten—tempt me not!
HIÖRDIS.
[_With dignity._] It is the Norn’s will that we two shall hold
together; it cannot be altered. Plainly now I see my task in life:
to make thee famous over all the world. Thou hast stood before me
every day, ever hour of my life; I sought to tear thee out of my
mind, but I lacked the might; now it is needless, now that I know
thou lovest me.
SIGURD.
[_With forced coldness._] If that be so—then know—I _have_ loved
thee; it has passed now;—I have forgot those days.
HIÖRDIS.
Sigurd, in that thou liest! So much at least am I worth, that if
thou hast loved me once, thou canst never forget it.
SIGURD.
[_Vehemently._] I must; and now I will.
HIÖRDIS.
So be it; but thou _canst_ not. Thou wilt seek to hinder me, but in
vain; ere evening falls, Gunnar and Dagny shall know all.
SIGURD.
Ha, that wilt thou never do!
HIÖRDIS.
That will I do!
SIGURD.
Then must I know thee ill; high-souled have I ever deemed thee.
HIÖRDIS.
Evil days breed evil thoughts; too great has been thy trust in me. I
will, I must, go forth by thy side—forth to face life and strife;
Gunnar’s roof-tree is too low for me.
SIGURD.
[_With emphasis._] But honour between man and man hast thou highly
prized. There lack not grounds for strife between me and Gunnar;
say, now, that he fell by my hand—wouldst thou still make all known
and follow me?
HIÖRDIS.
[_Starting._] Wherefore askest thou?
SIGURD.
Answer me first: what wouldst thou do, were I to give thy husband
his bane.
HIÖRDIS.
[_Looks hard at him._] Then must I keep silence and never rest until
I had seen thee dead.
SIGURD.
[_With a smile._] It is well, Hiördis—I knew it.
HIÖRDIS.
[_Hastily._] But it can never come to pass!
SIGURD.
It must come to pass; thou thyself hast cast the die even now for
Gunnar’s life and mine.
[GUNNAR, _with some House-carls, enters from the back._
GUNNAR.
[_Gloomily, to_ HIÖRDIS.] See now; the seed thou hast sown is
sprouting!
SIGURD.
[_Approaching._] What is amiss with thee?
GUNNAR.
Sigurd, is it thou? What is amiss? Nought but what I might well have
foreseen. As soon as Dagny, thy wife, had brought tidings of Kåre
the Peasant, I took horse and rode to my neighbours to seek help
against him.
HIÖRDIS.
[_Eagerly._] Well?
GUNNAR.
I was answered awry where’er I came: my dealings with Kåre had been
little to my honour, it was said;—aye, and other things were said to
boot, that I will not utter—I am a dishonoured man; I am thought to
have done a dastard deed; men hold it shame to make common cause
with me.
SIGURD.
It shall not long be held shame; ere evening comes, thou shalt have
men enough to face Kåre.
GUNNAR.
Sigurd!
HIÖRDIS.
[_In a low voice, triumphantly._] Ha, I knew it well!
SIGURD.
[_With forced resolution._] But thereafter is the peace between us
at an end; for hearken to my words, Gunnar Headman—thou hast slain
Thorolf, my wife’s kinsman, and therefore do I challenge thee to
single combat[16] to-morrow at break of day.
[HIÖRDIS, _in violent inward emotion, makes a stride
towards_ SIGURD, _but collects herself and remains
standing motionless during the following._
GUNNAR.
[_In extreme astonishment._] To single combat——! Me!—Thou art
jesting, Sigurd!
SIGURD.
Thou art lawfully challenged to single combat; ’twill be a game for
life or death; one of us must fall!
GUNNAR.
[_Bitterly._] Ha, I understand it well. When I came, thou didst talk
with Hiördis alone; she has goaded thee afresh!
SIGURD.
Mayhap. [_Half towards_ HIÖRDIS.] A high-souled woman must ever
guard her husband’s honour. [_To the men in the background._] And do
ye, house-carls, now go to Gunnar’s neighbours, and say to them that
to-morrow he is to ply sword-strokes with me; none dare call that
man a dastard who bears arms against Sigurd Viking!
[_The House-carls go out by the back._
GUNNAR.
[_Goes quickly up to_ SIGURD _and presses his hands, in strong
emotion._] Sigurd, my brave brother, now I understand thee! Thou
venturest thy life for my honour, as of old for my happiness!
SIGURD.
Thank thy wife for that; she has the main part in what I do.
To-morrow at break of day——
GUNNAR.
I will meet thee. [_Tenderly._] Foster-brother, wilt thou have a
good blade of me? ’Tis a gift of price.
SIGURD.
I thank thee; but let it hang.—Who knows if next evening I may have
any use for it.
GUNNAR.
[_Shakes his hand._] Farewell, Sigurd!
SIGURD.
Again farewell, and fortune befriend thee this night!
[_They part._ GUNNAR _goes out to the right._ SIGURD _casts
a glance at_ HIÖRDIS, _and goes out by the back._
HIÖRDIS.
[_After a pause, softly and thoughtfully._] To-morrow they fight!
Which will fall? [_After a moment’s silence, she bursts forth as if
seized by a strong resolution._] Let fall who will—Sigurd and I
shall still be together!
ACT FOURTH.
_By the coast. It is evening; the moon breaks forth now and again,
from among dark and ragged storm-clouds. At the back, a black
grave-mound, newly heaped up._
ÖRNULF _sits on a stone, in front on the right, his head bare, his
elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his hands.
His men are digging at the mound; some give light with
pine-knot torches. After a short pause,_ SIGURD _and_ DAGNY
_enter from the boat-house, where a wood fire is burning._
DAGNY.
[_In a low voice._] There sits he still. [_Holding_ SIGURD _back._]
Nay, speak not to him.
SIGURD.
Thou say’st well; it is too soon; best leave him to himself.
DAGNY.
[_Goes over to the right, and gazes at her father in quiet sorrow._]
So strong was he yesterday when he bore Thorolf’s body on his back;
strong was he as he helped to heap the grave-mound; but when they
were all laid to rest, and earth and stones piled over them—then the
sorrow seized him; then seemed it of a sudden as though his fire
were quenched. [_Dries her tears._] Tell me, Sigurd, when thinkest
thou to fare homeward to Iceland?
SIGURD.
So soon as the storm abates, and my dealings with Gunnar are ended.
DAGNY.
And then wilt thou buy land and build thee a homestead, and go
a-viking no more?
SIGURD.
Yes, yes,—that have I promised thee.
DAGNY.
And I may believe without doubt that Hiördis spoke falsely when she
said that I was unworthy to be thy wife?
SIGURD.
Yes yes, Dagny, trust thou to my word.
DAGNY.
Then am I glad again, and will try to forget all the evil that here
has been wrought. In the long winter evenings we will talk together
of Gunnar and Hiördis, and——
SIGURD.
Nay, Dagny, wouldst thou have things go well with us, never do thou
speak Hiördis’ name when once we are at home in Iceland.
DAGNY.
[_Mildly upbraiding him._] Unjust is thy hatred towards her. Sigurd,
Sigurd, it is little like thee.
ONE OF THE MEN.
[_Approaching._] There now, the mound is finished.
ÖRNULF.
[_As if awaking._] The mound? Is it—ay, ay——
SIGURD.
Now speak to him, Dagny.
DAGNY.
[_Approaching._] Father, it is cold out here; the storm is rising
with the night.
ÖRNULF.
Nay, never heed it; the mound is close-heaped and crannyless; they
lie warm in there.
DAGNY.
Ay, but thou——
ÖRNULF.
I? I am not cold.
DAGNY.
Nought hast thou eaten to-day; wilt thou not go in? The supper-board
stands ready.
ÖRNULF.
Let the supper-board stand; I have no hunger.
DAGNY.
But to sit here so still—trust me, thou wilt take hurt of it; thou
art ever wont to be stirring.
ÖRNULF.
May be so; there is somewhat that crushes my breast; I cannot draw
breath.
[_He again hides his face in his hands. A pause._ DAGNY
_seats herself beside him._
DAGNY.
To-morrow wilt thou make ready thy ship and set forth for Iceland?
ÖRNULF.
[_Without looking up._] What should I do there? Nay, I will to my
sons.
DAGNY.
[_With pain._] Father!
ÖRNULF.
[_Raises his head._] Go in and let me sit here; when the storm has
played with me for a night or two, the game will be over, I ween.
SIGURD.
Thou canst not think to deal thus with thyself.
ÖRNULF.
Dost marvel that I fain would rest? My day’s work is done; I have
laid my sons in their grave-mound. [_Vehemently._] Go from me!—Go,
go!
[_He hides his face._
SIGURD.
[_Softly, to_ DAGNY_, who rises._] Let him sit yet awhile.
DAGNY.
Nay, I have one rede yet untried;—I know him. [_To_ ÖRNULF.] Thy
day’s work done, say’st thou? Nay, that it is not. Thou hast laid
thy sons in the grave;—but art thou not a skald? It is meet that
thou should’st sing their memory.
ÖRNULF.
[_Shaking his head._] Sing? Nay, nay; yesterday I could sing; I am
too old to-day.
DAGNY.
But needs must thou; honourable men were thy sons, one and all; a
song must be made of them, and that can none of our kin but thou.
ÖRNULF.
[_Looks inquiringly at_ SIGURD.] To sing? What thinkest _thou_,
Sigurd?
SIGURD.
Meseems it is but meet; thou must e’en do as she says.
DAGNY.
Thy neighbours in Iceland will deem it ill done when the grave-ale
is drunk over Örnulf’s children, and there is no song to sing with
it. Thou hast ever time enough to follow thy sons.
ÖRNULF.
Well well, I will try it; and thou, Dagny, give heed, that
afterwards thou mayst carve the song on staves.
_The men approach with the torches, forming a group around
him; he is silent for a time, reflecting; then he says:_
Bragi’s[17] gift is bitter
when the heart is broken;
sorrow-laden singer,
singing, suffers sorely.
Natheless, since the Skald-god
gave me skill in song-craft,
in a lay loud-ringing
be my loss lamented!
[_Rises._
Ruthless Norn[18] and wrathful
wrecked my life and ravaged,
wiled away my welfare,
wasted Örnulf’s treasure.
Sons had Örnulf seven,
by the great gods granted;—
lonely now and life-sick
goes the greybeard, sonless.
Seven sons so stately,
bred among the sword-blades,
made a mighty bulwark
round the snow-locked sea-king.
Levelled lies the bulwark,
dead my sons strong-hearted;
gone the greybeard’s gladness,
desolate his dwelling.
Thorolf,—thou my last-born!
’Mongst the bold the boldest!
Soon were spent my sorrow
so but thou wert left me!
Fair thou wast as springtide,
fond towards thy father,
waxing straight and stalwart
to so wight a warrior.
Dark and drear his death-wound
leaves my life’s lone evening;
grief hath gripped my bosom
as ’twixt hurtling targes.
Nought the Norn denied me
of her rueful riches,
showering woes unstinted
over Örnulf’s world-way.
Weak are now my weapons.
But, were god-might given me,
_one_ thing would I strive for—
on the Norn to venge me!
_One_ thing would I toil for—
down to death to hurl thee,
Norn, that now hast left me
nought but yonder grave-mound.
Nought, I said? Nay, truly,
somewhat still is Örnulf’s,
since of Suttung’s[19] mead-horn
he betimes drank deeply.
[_With rising enthusiasm._
Though she stripped me sonless,
one great gift she gave me—
songcraft’s mighty secret,
skill to sing my sorrows.
On my lips she laid it,
goodly gift of songcraft;
loud, then, let my lay sound,
e’en where they are lying!
Hail, my stout sons seven!
Hail, as homeward ride ye!
Songcraft’s glorious god-gift
stauncheth woe and wailing.
[_He draws a deep breath, throws back the hair from his
brow, and says calmly:_
So—so; now is Örnulf sound and strong again. [_To the men._] Follow
me to the supper-board, lads; heavy has been our day’s work!
[_Goes with the men into the boat-house._
DAGNY.
Praised be the Mighty Ones on high that gave me so good a rede.
[_To_ SIGURD.] Wilt thou not go in?
SIGURD.
Nay, I list not to. Tell me, are all things ready for to-morrow?
DAGNY.
They are ready; a silk-sewn shroud lies on the bench; but I know
full surely that thou wilt hold thee against Gunnar, so I have not
wept over it.
SIGURD.
Grant all good powers, that thou mayst never weep for my sake.
[_He stops and looks out._
DAGNY.
What art thou listening to?
SIGURD.
Hear’st thou nought—_yonder_?
[_Points towards the left._
DAGNY.
Ay, there goes a fearsome storm over the sea!
SIGURD.
[_Going up a little towards the background._] There will fall hard
hailstones in that storm. [_Shouts._] Who comes?
KÅRE THE PEASANT.
[_Without on the left._] Folk thou wotst of, Sigurd Viking!
KÅRE THE PEASANT, _with a band of armed men, enters from the left._
SIGURD.
Whither would ye?
KÅRE.
To Gunnar’s hall.
SIGURD.
As foemen?
KÅRE.
Ay, trust me for that! Thou didst hinder me before; but now I ween
thou wilt scarce do the like.
SIGURD.
Maybe not.
KÅRE.
I have heard of thy challenge to Gunnar; but if things go to my
mind, weak will be his weapons when the time comes for your meeting.
SIGURD.
’Tis venturesome work thou goest about; take heed for thyself,
Peasant!
KÅRE.
[_With defiant laughter._] Leave that to me; wouldst thou tackle thy
ship to-night, we will see that thou hast light enow!—Come, all my
men; here goes the way.
[_They go off to the right, at the back._
DAGNY.
Sigurd, Sigurd, this misdeed must thou hinder.
SIGURD.
[_Goes quickly to the door of the hut, and calls in._] Up from the
board, Örnulf; take vengeance on Kåre the Peasant.
ÖRNULF.
[_Comes out, with the rest._] Kåre the Peasant—where is he?
SIGURD.
He is making for Gunnar’s hall to burn it over their heads.
ÖRNULF.
Ha-ha—let him do as he will; so shall I be avenged on Gunnar and
Hiördis, and afterwards I can deal with Kåre.
SIGURD.
Nay, that rede avails not; wouldst thou strike at Kåre, thou must
seek him out to-night; for when his misdeed is done, he will take to
the mountains. I have challenged Gunnar to meet me, man to man; him
thou hast safe enough, unless I myself—but no matter.—To-night he
must be shielded from his foes; it would ill befit thee to let so
vile a caitiff as Kåre rob thee of thy revenge.
ÖRNULF.
Thou say’st truly. To-night will I shield the slayer of Thorolf; but
to-morrow he must die.
SIGURD.
He or I—doubt not of that!
ÖRNULF.
Come then, to take vengeance for Örnulf’s sons.
[_He goes out with his men by the back, to the right._
SIGURD.
Dagny, do thou follow them;—I must bide here; for the rumour of the
combat is already abroad, and I may not meet Gunnar ere the time
comes. But thou—do thou keep rein on thy father; he must go
honourably to work; in Gunnar’s hall there are many women; no harm
must befall Hiördis or the rest.
DAGNY.
Yes, I will follow them. Thou takest thought even for Hiördis; I
thank thee for it.
SIGURD.
Go, go, Dagny!
DAGNY.
I go; but be thou at ease as to Hiördis; she has gilded armour in
her bower, and will know how to shield herself.
SIGURD.
That deem I too; but go thou nevertheless; guide thy father’s
course; watch over all—and over Gunnar’s wife!
DAGNY.
Trust to me. Farewell, till we meet again!
[_She follows the others._
SIGURD.
’Tis the first time, foster-brother, that I stand weaponless
whilst thou art in danger. [_Listens._] I hear shouts and
sword-strokes;—they are already at the hall. [_Goes towards the
right, but stops and recoils in astonishment._] Hiördis! Comes she
hither!
HIÖRDIS _enters, clad in a short scarlet kirtle, with gilded armour:
helmet, hauberk, arm-plates, and greaves. Her hair is flying
loose; at her back hangs a quiver, and at her belt a small
shield. She has in her hand the bow strung with her hair._
HIÖRDIS.
[_Hastily looking behind her, as though in dread of something
pursuing her, goes close up to_ SIGURD, _seizes him by the arm, and
whispers:_] Sigurd, Sigurd, canst thou see it?
SIGURD.
What? Where?
HIÖRDIS.
The wolf _there_—close behind me; it does not move; it glares at me
with its two red eyes. It is my wraith,[20] Sigurd! Three times has
it appeared to me; that bodes that I shall surely die to-night!
SIGURD.
Hiördis, Hiördis!
HIÖRDIS.
It has sunk into the earth! Aye, aye, now it has warned me.
SIGURD.
Thou art sick; come, go in with me.
HIÖRDIS.
Nay, here will I bide; I have but little time left.
SIGURD.
What has befallen thee?
HIÖRDIS.
What has befallen? That know I not; but ’twas true what thou said’st
to-day, that Gunnar and Dagny stand between us; we must away from
them and from life; then can we be together!
SIGURD.
We? Ha, thou meanest——
HIÖRDIS.
[_With dignity._] I have been homeless in this world from that day
thou didst take another to wife. That was ill done of thee! All good
gifts may a man give to his faithful friend—all, save the woman he
loves; for if he do that, he rends the Norn’s secret web, and two
lives are wrecked. An unerring voice within me tells me I came into
the world that my strong soul might cheer and uphold thee through
heavy days, and that thou wert born to the end I might find in _one_
man all that seemed to me great and noble; for this I know
Sigurd—had we two held together, then hadst thou become more famous
than all others, and I happier.
SIGURD.
It avails not now to mourn. Think’st thou ’tis a merry life that
awaits me? To be by Dagny’s side day by day, and feign a love my
heart shrinks from? Yet so it must be; it cannot be altered.
HIÖRDIS.
[_In a growing frenzy._] It _shall_ be altered! We must out of this
life, both of us! Seest thou this bow-string? With it can I surely
hit my mark; for I have crooned fair sorceries over it! [_Places an
arrow in the bow, which is strung._] Hark! hark! that rushing in the
air? It is the dead men’s ride to Valhal: I have bewitched them
hither;—we two will join them in their ride!
SIGURD.
[_Shrinking back._] Hiördis, Hiördis—I fear thee!
HIÖRDIS.
[_Not heeding him._] Our fate no power can alter now! Oh, ’tis
better so than if thou hadst wedded me here in this life—if I had
sat in thy homestead weaving linen and wool for thee and bearing
thee children—pah!
SIGURD.
Hold, hold! Thy sorceries have been too strong for thee; they have
made thee soul-sick, Hiördis! [_Horror-struck._] Ha, see—see!
Gunnar’s hall—it is burning!
HIÖRDIS.
Let it burn, let it burn! The cloud-hall up yonder is loftier than
Gunnar’s rafter-roof!
SIGURD.
But Egil, thy son—they are slaying him!
HIÖRDIS.
Let him die—my shame dies with him!
SIGURD.
And Gunnar—they are taking thy husband’s life!
HIÖRDIS.
What care I! A better husband shall I follow home this night! Ay,
Sigurd, so must it be; here on this earth grows no happiness for me.
The White God is coming northward; him will I not meet; the old gods
are strong no longer;—they sleep, they sit half shadow-like on
high;—with them will we strive! Out of this life, Sigurd! I will
enthrone thee king in heaven, and I myself will sit by thy side.
[_The storm bursts wildly._] Hark, hark, here comes our company!
Canst see the black steeds galloping?—one is for me and one for
thee. [_Draws the arrow to her ear and shoots._] Away, then, on thy
last ride home!
SIGURD.
Well aimed, Hiördis! [_He falls._
HIÖRDIS.
[_Jubilant, rushes up to him._] Sigurd, my brother,—now art thou
mine at last!
SIGURD.
Now less than ever. Here our ways part; for I am a Christian man.
HIÖRDIS.
[_Appalled._] Thou——! Ha, no, no!
SIGURD.
The White God is mine; King Æthelstan taught me to know him; it is
to _him_ I go.
HIÖRDIS.
[_In despair._] And I——! [_Drops her bow._] Woe! woe!
SIGURD.
Heavy has my life been from the hour I tore thee out of my own heart
and gave thee to Gunnar. I thank thee, Hiördis;—now am I so light
and free.
[_Dies._
HIÖRDIS.
[_Quietly._] Dead! Then truly have I brought my soul to wreck! [_The
storm increases; she breaks forth wildly._] They come! I have
bewitched them hither! No, no! I will not go with you! I will not
ride without Sigurd! It avails not—they see me; they laugh and
beckon to me; they spur their horses! [_Rushes out to the edge of
the cliff at the back._] They are upon me;—and no shelter, no
hiding-place! Ay, mayhap at the bottom of the sea!
[_She casts herself over._
[ÖRNULF, DAGNY, GUNNAR, _with_ EGIL, _gradually followed by_
SIGURD’S _and_ ÖRNULF’S _men, enter from the right._
ÖRNULF.
[_Turning towards the grave-mound._] Now may ye sleep in peace; for
ye lie not unavenged.
DAGNY.
[_Entering._] Father, father—I die of fear—all that blood and
strife—and the storm;—hark, hark!
GUNNAR.
[_Carrying_ EGIL.] Peace, and shelter for my child.
ÖRNULF.
Gunnar!
GUNNAR.
Ay, Örnulf, my homestead is burnt and my men are slain; I am in thy
power; do with me what thou wilt!
ÖRNULF.
That Sigurd must look to. But in, under roof! It is not safe out
here.
DAGNY.
Ay, ay, in! [_Goes towards the boat-house, catches sight of_
SIGURD’S _body, and shrieks._] Sigurd, my husband!—They have slain
him!
[_Throwing herself upon him._
ÖRNULF.
[_Rushes up._] Sigurd!
GUNNAR.
[_Sets_ EGIL _down._] Sigurd dead!
DAGNY.
[_Looks despairingly at the men, who surround the body._] No, no, it
is not so;—he must be alive! [_Catches sight of the bow._] Ha, what
is that?
[_Rises._
ÖRNULF.
Daughter, it is as first thou saidst—Sigurd is slain.
GUNNAR.
[_As if seized by a sudden thought._] And Hiördis!—Has Hiördis been
here?
DAGNY.
[_Softly and with self-control._] I know not; but this I know, that
her bow has been here.
GUNNAR.
Ay, I thought no less!
DAGNY.
Hush, hush! [_To herself._] So bitterly did she hate him!
GUNNAR.
[_Aside._] She has slain him—the night before the combat; then after
all she loved me.
[_A thrill of dread runs through the whole group;_
ASGÅRDSREIEN—_the ride of the fallen warriors to
Valhal—hurtles through the air._
EGIL.
[_In terror._] Father! See, see!
GUNNAR.
What is it?
EGIL.
Up there—all the black horses——!
GUNNAR.
It is the clouds that——
ÖRNULF.
Nay, it is the dead men’s home-faring.
EGIL.
[_With a shriek._] Mother is with them.
DAGNY.
All good spirits!
GUNNAR.
Child, what say’st thou?
EGIL.
There—in front—on the black horse! Father, father!
[EGIL _clings in terror to his father; a short pause; the
storm passes over, the clouds part, the moon shines
peacefully on the scene._
GUNNAR.
[_In quiet sorrow._] Now is Hiördis surely dead.
ÖRNULF.