The Story of Burnt Njal: The Great Icelandic Tribune, Jurist, and Counsellor. Unknown

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The Story of Burnt Njal: The Great Icelandic Tribune, Jurist, and Counsellor - Unknown


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had been bursts of laughter.

      Gunnar was very wroth, and said to Sigmund, "Thou art a foolish man, and one that cannot keep to good advice, and thou revilest Njal's sons, and Njal himself who is most worth of all; and this thou doest in spite of what thou hast already done. Mind, this will be thy death. But if any man repeats these words that thou hast spoken, or these verses that thou hast made, that man shall be sent away at once, and have my wrath beside."

      But they were all so sore afraid of him, that no one dared to repeat those words. After that he went away, but the gangrel women talked among themselves, and said that they would get a reward from Bergthora if they told her all this.

      They went then away afterwards down thither, and took Bergthora aside and told her the whole story of their own free will.

      Bergthora spoke and said, when men sate down to the board, "Gifts have been given to all of you, father and sons, and ye will be no true men unless ye repay them somehow."

      "What gifts are these?" asks Skarphedinn.

      "You, my sons," says Bergthora, "have got one gift between you all. Ye are nicknamed `Dungbeardlings,' but my husband `the Beardless Carle.'"

      "Ours is no woman's nature," says Skarphedinn, "that we should fly into a rage at every little thing."

      "And yet Gunnar was wroth for your sakes," says she, "and he is thought to be good-tempered. But if ye do not take vengeance for this wrong, ye will avenge no shame."

      "The carline, our mother, thinks this fine sport," says Skarphedinn, and smiled scornfully as he spoke, but still the sweat burst out upon his brow, and red flecks came over his checks, but that was not his wont. Grim was silent and bit his lip. Helgi made no sign, and he said never a word. Hauskuld went off with Bergthora; she came into the room again, and fretted and foamed much.

      Njal spoke and said, "`Slow and sure,' says the proverb, mistress! and so it is with many things, though they try men's tempers, that there are always two sides to a story, even when vengeance is taken."

      But at even when Njal was come into his bed, he heard that an axe came against the panel and rang loudly, but there was another shut bed, and there the shields were hung up, and he sees that they are away. He said, "Who have taken down our shields?"

      "Thy sons went out with them," says Bergthora.

      Njal pulled his shoes on his feet, and went out at once, and round to the other side of the house, and sees that they were taking their course right up the slope; he said, "Whither away, Skarphedinn?"

      "To look after thy sheep," he answers.

      "You would not then be armed," said Njal, "if you meant that, and your errand must be something else."

      Then Skarphedinn sang a song,

      "Squanderer of hoarded wealth,

      Some there are that own rich treasure,

      Ore of sea that clasps the earth,

      And yet care to count their sheep;

      Those who forge sharp songs of mocking,

      Death songs, scarcely can possess

      Sense of sheep that crop the grass;

      Such as these I seek in fight;"

      and said afterwards, "We shall fish for salmon, father."

      "'Twould be well then if it turned out so that the prey does not get away from you."

      They went their way, but Njal went to his bed, and he said to Bergthora, "Thy sons were out of doors all of them, with arms, and now thou must have egged them on to something."

      "I will give them my heartfelt thanks," said Bergthora, "if they tell me the slaying of Sigmund."

      45. THE SLAYING OF SIGMUND AND SKIOLLD

      Now they, Njal's sons, fare up to Fleetlithe, and were that night under the Lithe, and when the day began to break, they came near to Lithend. That same morning both Sigmund and Skiolld rose up and meant to go to the studhorses; they had bits with them, and caught the horses that were in the "town" and rode away on them. They found the stud-horses between two brooks. Skarphedinn caught sight of them, for Sigmund was in bright clothing. Skarphedinn said, "See you now the red elf yonder, lads?" They looked that way, and said they saw him.

      Skarphedinn spoke again: "Thou, Hauskuld, shalt have nothing to do with it, for thou wilt often be sent about alone without due heed; but I mean Sigmund for myself; methinks that is like a man; but Grim and Helgi, they shall try to slay Skiolld."

      Hauskuld sat him down, but they went until they came up to them. Skarphedinn said to Sigmund, "Take thy weapons and defend thyself; that is more needful now than to make mocking songs on me and my brothers."

      Sigmund took up his weapons, but Skarphedinn waited the while. Skiolld turned against Grim and Helgi, and they fell hotly to fight. Sigmund had a helm on his head, and a shield at his side, and was girt with a sword, his spear was in his hand; now he turns against Skarphedinn, and thrusts at once at him with his spear, and the thrust came on his shield. Skarphedinn dashes the spearhaft in two, and lifts up his axe and hews at Sigmund, and cleaves his shield down to below the handle. Sigmund drew his sword and cut at Skarphedinn, and the sword cuts into his shield, so that it stuck fast. Skarphedinn gave the shield such a quick twist, that Sigmund let go his sword. Then Skarphedinn hews at Sigmund with his axe; the "Ogress of war." Sigmund had on a corselet, the axe came on his shoulder. Skarphedinn cleft the shoulder-blade right through, and at the same time pulled the axe towards him. Sigmund fell down on both knees, but sprang up again at once.

      "Thou hast lilted low to me already," says Skarphedinn, "but still thou shalt fall upon thy mother's bosom ere we two part."

      "Ill is that then," says Sigmund.

      Skarphedinn gave him a blow on his helm, and after that dealt

      Sigmund his death-blow.

      Grim cut off Skiolld's foot at the ankle-joint, but Helgi thrust him through with his spear, and he got his death there and then.

      Skarphedinn saw Hallgerda's shepherd, just as he had hewn off Sigmund's head; he handed the head to the shepherd, and bade him bear it to Hallgerda, and said she would know whether that head had made jeering songs about them, and with that he sang a song —

      "Here! this head shalt thou, that heapest

      Hoards from ocean-caverns won,26

      Bear to Hallgerd with my greeting,

      Her that hurries men to fight;

      Sure am I, O firewood splitter!

      That yon spendthrift knows it well,

      And will answer if it ever

      Uttered mocking songs on us."

      The shepherd casts the head down as soon as ever they parted, for he dared not do so while their eyes were on him. They fared along till they met some men down by Markfleet, and told them the tidings. Skarphedinn gave himself out as the slayer of Sigmund and Grim and Helgi as the slayers of Skiolld; then they fared home and told Njal the tidings. He answers them, "Good luck to your hands! Here no self-doom will come to pass as things stand."

      Now we must take up the story, and say that the shepherd came home to Lithend. He told Hallgerda the tidings.

      "Skarphedinn put Sigmund's head into my hands," he says, "and bade me bring it thee; but I dared not do it, for I knew not how thou wouldst like that."

      "'Twas ill that thou didst not do that," she says; "I would have brought it to Gunnar, and then he would have avenged his kinsman, or have to bear every man's blame."

      After that she went to Gunnar and said, "I tell thee of thy kinsman Sigmund's slaying: Skarphedinn slew him, and wanted them to bring me the head."

      "Just what might be looked for to befall him," says Gunnar, "for ill redes bring ill luck, and both you and Skarphedinn have often done one another spiteful turns."

      Then Gunnar went away; he let no steps be taken towards


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<p>26</p>

"Thou, that heapest boards," etc. – merely a periphrasis for man, and scarcely fitting, except in irony, to a splitter of firewood.