s and, also, two ships of
merchandise and one long ship of war, and having much money out at
interest. He had won his wealth by viking's work, robbing the English
coasts, and black tales were told of his doings in his youth on the sea,
for he was a "red-hand" viking. Asmund was a handsome man, with blue
eyes and a large beard, and, moreover, was very skilled in matters of
law. He loved money much, and was feared of all. Still, he had many
friends, for as he aged he grew more kindly. He had in marriage Gudruda,
the daughter of Bjoern, who was very sweet and kindly of nature, so that
they called her Gudruda the Gentle. Of this marriage there were two
children, Bjoern and Gudruda the Fair; but Bjoern grew up like his father
in youth, strong and hard, and greedy of gain, while, except for her
wonderful beauty, Gudruda was her mother's child alone.
The mother of Swanhild the Fatherless was Groa the Witch. She was a
Finn, and it is told of her that the ship on which she sailed, trying
to run under the lee of the Westman Isles in a great gale from the
north-east, was dashed to pieces on a rock, and all those on board of
her were caught in the net of Ran[*] and drowned, except Groa herself,
who was saved by her magic art. This at the least is true, that, as
Asmund the Priest rode down by the sea-shore on the morning after the
gale, seeking for some strayed horses, he found a beautiful woman,
who wore a purple cloak and a great girdle of gold, seated on a rock,
combing her black hair and singing the while; and, at her feet, washing
to and fro in a pool, was a dead man. He asked whence she came, and she
answered:
"Out of the Swan's Bath."
[*] The Norse goddess of the sea.
Next, he asked her where were her kin. But, pointing to the dead man,
she said that this alone was left of them.
"Who was the man, then?" said Asmund the Priest.
She laughed again and sang this song:--
Groa sails up from the Swan's Bath,
Death Gods grip the Dead Man's hand.
Look where lies her luckless husband,
Bolder sea-king ne'er swung sword!
Asmund, keep the kirtle-wearer,
For last night the Norns were crying,
And Groa thought they told of thee:
Yea, told of thee and babes unborn.
"How knowest thou my name?" asked Asmund.
"The sea-mews cried it as the ship sank, thine and others--and they
shall be heard in story."
"Then that is the best of luck," quoth Asmund; "but I think that thou
art fey."[
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