{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/morris/ep2/ep224.htm","path":"neu/morris/ep2/ep224.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/morris/ep2/ep224.htm","text":"The Earthly Paradise, (September-November), by William Morris, [1870]\nThe Slaying of Kiartan Olafson.\nNOW Kiartan rode from Knoll betimes that day,\n And goodman Thorkel brought him on the way\n With twelve men more, and therewithal they ride\n Fast from the west, but where the pass grew wide\n And opened into Swinedale, Kiartan stayed\n His company, and unto Thorkel said,\n \"Thanks have thou, goodman, for thy following;\n Now get thee back, I fear not anything\n \u2019Twixt this and Herdholt.\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Well,\" the goodman said,\n \"Time enow is there yet to be waylaid\n Ere thou art safe at home; let us ride on.\"\n \"Nay,\" Kiartan said, \"the thing shall not be done,\n All men of heart will say that heart I lack,\n If I must have an army at my back\n Where\u2019er I go, for fear of Oswif's sons.\n Fare thee well, goodman, get thee back at once!\n And therewithal take this to comfort thee,\n That Bodli yet is scarce mine enemy,\n And holds aback those brethren; wot ye well,\n Too strange a story would it be to tell,\n If these should overcome my father's son,\n Besides, without thee I ride not alone.\" p. 496\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0So back the goodman turned, misdoubting though,\n In spite of all how yet the day would go,\n And up the dale rode Kiartan: An the Black,\n The man who erst the stolen sword brought back,\n Was with him these, and one named Thorarin,\n As slowly now the midway dale they win.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Now, as I find it written in my tale,\n There went that morn a goodman of the dale,\n About those bents his mares and foals to see,\n His herdsman with him; these saw presently\n Up from the east the men of Bathstead ride,\n And take their stand along a streamlet's side\n Deep sunken in a hollow, where the mouth\n Of the strait pass turns somewhat to the south,\n From out the dale; now, since the men they knew,\n Much they misdoubted what these came to do;\n But when they turned them from the sunken stream,\n And saw the sun on other weapons gleam,\n And three men armed come riding from the west;\n And when they knew the tallest and the best\n For Kiartan Olafson, therewith no more\n They doubted aught.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then said the herdsman: \"Sore\n The troubles are that on the country-side\n Shall fall, if this same meeting shall betide;\n He is a great chief; let us warn him then!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Yea, yea!\" his master said, \"and all such men p. 497\n As fate leads unto death, that we may be\n \u2019Twixt the two millstones ground right merrily,\n And cursed as we cry out! thou art a fool,\n Who needs must be the beaker and the stool\n For great men's use; emptied of joys of life\n For other's joy, then kicked by in the strife\n When they are drunken; come, beside the way,\n Let us lie close to see the merry play!\n For such a swordsman as is Kiartan, we\n Shall scarce behold on this side of the sea;\n And heavy odds he hath against him too.\n These are great men\u2014good, let them hack and hew\n Their noble bodies for our poor delight!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0So down the bent they slipped, and as they might\n Lurked by the road, and thus they tell their tale:\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ere Kiartan reached the strait place of the dale,\n High up upon the brook-bank Bodli lay,\n So that his helm was just seen from the way;\n Then Ospak went to him, and clear they heard\n Across the road his rough and threatening word:\n \"What dost thou here? thou hast bethought thee then\n To warn thy friend that here lurk all-armed men.\n Thou knowest Gudrun's mind\u2014or knowst it not,\n But knowst that we within a trap have got\n Thee and the cursed wretch, the proud Mire-blade,\n The Thief, the King's-pimp, the white Herdholt maid. p. 498\n Come, sister's husband, get thee lower down!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The foam flew from the lips of the fierce clown\n As thus he spake, but Bodli rose and said:\n \"Thinkst thou I armed because I was afraid\n Of thee and thine this morn? If thou knewst well\n Of love or honour, somewhat might I tell\n Why I am here with thee\u2014If will I have,\n Kiartan, who was my friend, this day to save,\n Bethink thee I might do it otherwise\n Than e\u2019en by showing what in ambush lies!\n \u2014How if I stood beside him?\".\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Down with thee\n And hold thy peace! or he will hear and see.\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0For so it was that Kiartan drew so near\n That now the herd their clinking bits might hear,\n Borne down upon the light wind: on he came,\n Singing an old song made in Odin's fame,\n Merry and careless on that sunny morn;\n When suddenly out rang the Bathstead horn,\n And sharply he drew rein, and looked around;\n Then did the lurkers from the gully bound\n And made on toward them, and down leapt all three,\n And Kiartan glanced around, and speedily\n Led toward a rock that was beside the way,\n And there they shifted them to stand at bay.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Most noble then looked Kiartan, said the herd, p. 499\n Nor ever saw I any less afeard;\n Yet, when his watchful eye on Bodli fell,\n A change came o\u2019er him, that were hard to tell,\n But that he dropped his hands at first, as one\n Who thinks that all is over now and done;\n Yet, says the neatherd, soon his brows did clear,\n And from his strong hand whistled forth his spear,\n And down fell Thorolf clattering on the road.\n He cried, 'Down goes the thief beneath his load,\n One man struck off the tale! I have heard tell\n Of such as dealt with more and came off well.'\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Silence a space but for the mail rings; then\n Over the dusty road on rushed those men;\n And, says the herd, there saw I for a space\n Confused gleam of swords about that place,\n And from their clatter now and then did come\n Sharp cry, or groan, or panting shout, as home\n Went point or edge: but pale as death one stood,\n With sheathed sword, looking on the clashing wood,\n And that was Bodli Thorleikson. Then came\n A lull a little space in that wild game.\n The Bathstead men drew off, and still the three\n Stood there scarce hurt as far as I could see;\n But of the Bathstead men I deem some bled,\n Though all stood firm; then Ospak cried and said;\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"O Bodli, what thing wilt thou prophesy\n For us, since like a seer thou standest by p. 500\n And see\u2019st thine house beat back? well then for thee\n Will I be wise, foretelling what shall be\n A cold bed, and a shamed board, shalt thou have,\n Yea, and ere many days a chased dog's grave,\n If thou bringst home to-day a bloodless sword!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But yet for all that answered he no word,\n But stood as made of iron, though the breeze\n Blew his long black hair round his cheek-pieces\n And fanned his scarlet kirtle.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Time we lose,\"\n Another cried, \"if Bodli so shall choose,\n Let him deal with us when this man is slain.\"\n Then stoutly to the game they gat again\n And played awhile, and now withal I saw\n That rather did the sons of Oswif draw\n Toward Thorarin and An, until the first,\n From midst the knot of those onsetters burst,\n And ran off west, followed by two stout men,\n Not Oswif's sons; and An the Black fell then\n Wounded to death, I deemed, but over him\n Fell Gudlaug, Oswif's nephew, with a limb\n Shorn off by Kiartan's sword: then once again\n There came a short lull in the iron rain;\n And then the four fell on him furiously\n Awhile, then gave aback, and I could see\n The noble Kiartan, with his mail-coat rent,\n His shield hung low adown, his sword-blade bent,\n Panting for breath, but still without a wound. p. 501\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0While as a man by some strong spell fast bound,\n Without a will for aught, did Bodli stand,\n Nor once cast eyes on the waylayers\u2019 band,\n Nor once glanced round at Kiartan, but stared still\n Upon the green side of the grassy hill\n Over against him, e\u2019en as he did deem\n It yet might yawn as in a dreadful dream,\n And from its bowels give some marvel birth,\n That in a ghostly wise should change the earth,\n And make that day nought. But as there he stood\n Ospak raised up his hand, all red with blood,\n And smote him on the face, and cried;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Go home,\n Half-hearted traitor, e\u2019en as thou hast come,\n And bear my blood to Gudrun!\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Still no word\n Came from his pale lips, and the rover's sword\n Abode within the scabbard. Ospak said,\n \"O lover, art thou grown too full of dread\n To look him in the face whom thou fearedst not\n To cozen of the fair thing he had got?\n O faint-heart thief of love, why drawest thou back,\n When all the love thou erst so sore didst lack\n With one stroke thou mayst win?\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He did not hear,\n Or seemed to hear not; but now loud and clear\n Kiartan cried out his name from that high place,\n And at the first sound Bodli turned his face\n This way and that, in puzzled hapless wise, p. 502\n Till \u2019twixt the spears his eyes met Kiartan's eyes;\n Then his mouth quivered, and he writhed aside,\n And with his mail-clad hands his face did hide,\n And trembled like one palsy-struck, while high\n Over the doubtful field did Kiartan cry:\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Yea, they are right! be not so hardly moved,\n O kinsman, foster-brother, friend beloved\n Of the old days, friend well forgiven now!\n Come nigher, come, that thou my face mayst know,\n Then draw thy sword and thrust from off the earth\n The fool that so hath spoilt thy days of mirth,\n Win long lone days of love by Gudrun's side!\n My life is spoilt, why longer do I bide\n To vex thee, friend\u2014strike then for happy life!\n I said thou mightst not gaze upon the strife\n Far off; bethink thee then, who sits at home\n And waits thee, Gudrun, my own love, and come,\n Come, for the midday sun is over bright,\n And I am wearying for the restful night!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And now had Bodli dropped his hands adown,\n And shown his face all drawn into a frown\n Of doubt and shame; his hand was on his sword,\n Even ere Kiartan spake that latest word;\n Still trembling, now he drew it from its sheath,\n And the bright sun ran down the fated death,\n And e\u2019en the sons of Oswif shuddered now,\n As with wild eyes and heavy steps and slow p. 503\n He turned toward Kiartan; beat the heart in me\n Till I might scarce breathe, for I looked to see\n A dreadful game; the wind of that midday\n Beat \u2019gainst the hill-sides; a hound far away\n Barked by some homestead's door; the grey ewe's bleat\n Sounded nearby; but that dull sound of feet,\n And the thin tinkling of the mail-coat rings\n Drowned in my ears the sound of other things,\n As less and less the space betwixt them grew;\n I shut my eyes as one the end who knew,\n But straight, perforce, I opened them again\n Woe worth the while!\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0As one who looks in vain\n For help, looked Kiartan round; then raised his shield,\n And poised his sword as though he ne\u2019er would yield\n E\u2019en when the earth was sinking; yet a while,\n And o\u2019er his face there came a quivering smile,\n As into Bodli's dreadful face he gazed;\n Then my heart sank within me, as all dazed,\n I saw the flash of swords that never met,\n And heard how Kiartan cried;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Ah, better yet\n For me to die than live on even so!\n Alas! friend, do the deed that thou must do!\n Oh, lonely death!\u2014farewell, farewell, farewell!\"\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And clattering on the road his weapons fell, p. 504\n And almost ere they touched the bloody dust,\n Into his shieldless side the sword was thrust,\n And I, who could not turn my eyes away,\n Beheld him fall, and shrieked as there I lay,\n And yet none noted me; but Bodli flung\n Himself upon the earth, and o\u2019er him hung,\n Then raised his head, and laid it on his knee,\n And cried:\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Alas! what have I done to thee?\n Was it for this deed, then, that I was born?\n Was this the end I looked for on this morn?\n I said, To-day I die, to-day I die,\n And folk will say, an ill deed, certainly,\n He did, but living had small joy of it,\n And quickly from him did his weak life flit\u2014\n Where was thy noble sword I looked to take\n Here in my breast, and die for Gudrun's sake,\n And for thy sake\u2014O friend, am I forgot?\n Speak yet a word!\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But Kiartan answered not,\n And Bodli said, \"Wilt thou not then forgive?\n Think of the days I yet may have to live\n Of hard life!\"\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Therewith Kiartan oped his eyes,\n And strove to turn about as if to rise,\n And could not, but gazed hard on Bodli's face,\n And gasped out, as his eyes began to glaze:\n \"Farewell, thou joyous life beneath the sun, p. 505\n Thou foolish wasted gift\u2014farewell, Gudrun!\"\n And then on Bodli's breast back fell his head,\n He strove to take his hand, and he was dead.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then was there silence a long while, well-nigh\n We heard each other breathe, till quietly\n At last the slayer from the slain arose,\n And took his sword, and sheathed it, and to those\n Four sons of Oswif, e\u2019en as one he spake\n Who had good right the rule o\u2019er them to take:\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Here have we laid to earth a mighty one,\n And therein no great deed, forsooth, have done,\n Since his great heart o\u2019ercame him, not my sword;\n And what hereafter may be our reward\n For this, I know not: he that lieth here\n By many a man in life was held right dear,\n As well as by the man who was his friend,\n And brought his life and love to bitter end;\n And since I am the leader of this band\n Of man-slayers, do after my command.\n Go ye to Bathstead, name me everywhere\n The slayer of Kiartan Olafson, send here\n Folk who shall bear the body to our stead;\n And then let each man of you hide his head,\n For ye shall find it hard from this ill day\n To keep your lives: here, meanwhile will I stay,\n Nor think myself yet utterly alone.\" p. 506\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Then home turned Oswif's sons, and they being gone,\n We slunk away, and looking from the hill\n We saw how Bodli Thorleikson stood still\n In that same place, nor yet had faced the slain.\n And so we gat unto our place again.\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0So told the herd, time long agone, the tale\n Of that sad fight within the grey-sloped vale.","title":"The Earthly Paradise (September-November): The Lovers of Gudrun: The Slaying of Kiartan Olafson","type":"page"}