The Earthly Paradise (September-November): The Lovers of Gudrun: Kiartan back in Iceland; Refna comes into the Tale

The Earthly Paradise, (September-November), by William Morris, [1870] Kiartan back in Iceland; Refna comes into the Tale. KIARTAN and Kálf in Burgfirth came aland And raised their tents anigh unto the strand, As in the summer-tide the fashion was Of mariners, the while the news did pass That they were come out, through the country-side, And there awhile that summer would abide. Now when to Herdholt did that tidings come, Olaf and all his sons were gone from home: So Kiartan saw them not at first, among The folk that to the newcomers did throng; Amidst the first of whom, he, none the less, p. 426 Noted his friend Gudmund of Asbiornsness, Who to his sister Thurid now was wed, And brought her with him; with all goodlihead He greeted them, yet Kiartan deemed that they Looked on him strangely; on the self-same day Kálf's father, Asgeir, came, and brought with him Refna, his daughter, fair of face and limb, Dark-haired, great-eyed, and gentle: timidly She gazed at Kiartan as he drew anigh And gave her welcome. Now as he began To ask them news of this and that good man, And how he fared, Thurid with anxious face Came up to him, and drew him from the place, Saying, "Come, talk with me apart awhile!" He followed after with a puzzled smile, Yet his heart felt as something ill drew near. So, when they came where none their speech might hear, Thurid turned round about on him, and said, "Brother, amidst thy speech, I shook with dread Lest .Gudrun's name from out thy lips should burst; How was it then thou spak’st not of her first?" Then Kiartan, trembling, said, "Indeed, I thought That news of ill unasked would soon be brought— Sister, what ails thee then—is my love dead?" "Nay," Thurid stammered, "she is well—and wed." p. 427 "What!" cried out Kiartan, "and the Peacock's house? I used to deem my brothers valorous, My father a great man—and Bodli's sword, Where was it midst this shame?" Scarce was the word Out of his lips, ere, looking on her face, He turned and staggered wildly from the place, Crying aloud, "O blind, O blind, O blind! Where is the world I used to deem so kind, So loving to me? O Gudrun, Gudrun, Here I come back with all the honour won We talked of, that thou saidst thou knewest well Was but for thee—to whom then shall I tell The tale of that well-doing? And thou, friend, How might I deem that aught but death should end Our love together? yea, and even now, How shall I learn to hate thee, friend, though thou Art changed into a shadow and a lie? O ill day of my birth, ill earth and sky, Why was I then bemocked with days of bliss If still the ending of them must be this? O wretch, that once wast happy, days a-gone, Before thou wert so wretched and alone, How on unhappy faces wouldst thou look And scarce with scorn and ruth their sorrow brook! Now then at last thou knowest of the earth, And why the elders look askance on mirth." p. 428 Some paces had he gone from where she stood, Gazing in terror on his hapless mood, And now she called his name; he turned about, And far away he heard the shipmen's shout And beat of the sea, and from the down there came The bleat of ewes; and all these, and his name, And the sights too, the green down ’neath the sun, The white strand and the far-off hill-sides dun, And white birds wheeling, well-known things did seem, But pictures now or figures in a dream, With all their meaning lost. Yet therewithal On his vexed spirit did the new thought fall How weak and helpless and alone he was. Then gently to his sister did he pass, And spake: "Now is the world clean changed for me In this last minute, yet indeed I see That still will it go on for all my pain; Come then, my sister, let us back again; I must meet folk, and face the life beyond, And, as I may, walk ’neath the dreadful bond Of ugly pain—such men our fathers were, Not lightly bowed by any weight of care." She smiled upon him kindly, and they went And found folk gathered in the biggest tent, And busied o’er the wares, and gay enow In outward seeming; though ye well may know Folk dreaded much for all the country's sake p. 429 In what wise Kiartan this ill news would take. Now Kálf had brought the gayest things to show The women-folk, and by a bale knelt now That Kiartan knew right well, and close by him Sat Refna, with her dainty hand and slim Laid on a broidered bag, her fair head crowned With that rich coif thereafter so renowned In Northland story. As he entered there She raised to him her deep grey eyes, and fair Half-opened mouth, and blushed blood-red therewith; And inwardly indeed did Kiartan writhe With bitter anguish as his eyes did meet Her bright-flushed gentle face so pure and sweet; And he thenceforth to have no lot or part In such fair things; yet struggling with his heart He smiled upon her kindly. Pale she grew When the flush passed, as though in sooth she knew What sickness ailed him. "Be not wroth," she said, "That I have got this queen's gift on my head, I bade them do it not." Then wearily He answered: "Surely it beseemeth thee Right well, and they who set it there did right. Rich were the man who owned the maiden bright, And the bright coif together!" As he spake Wandered his eyes; so sore his heart did ache That not for long those matters might he note; p. 430 Yet a glad flush again dyed face and throat Of Refna, and she said, "So great and famed, So fair and kind! where shall the maid be named To say no to thine asking?" Once again All pale she grew, for stung by sudden pain Kiartan turned round upon the shrinking maid, And, laughing wildly, with a scowl he said: "All women are alike to me—all good— All blessings on this fair earth by the rood!" Then silence fell on all, yet he began Within awhile to talk to maid and man Mildly as he was wont, and through the days That they abode together in that place Seemed little changed; and so his father thought When he to him at last his greeting brought, And bade him home to Herdholt. So they rode, Talking of many things, to his abode, Nor naming Gudrun aught. Thus Kiartan came Back to his father's house, grown great of fame, And tidingless a while day passed by day What hearts soe’er ’neath sorrow's millstone lay.