第71章 CHAPTER XXVI(4)

"O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!"But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on it, and she said: "O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done a wrong to me so that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me the wrong Ihave done thee?"

"Yea," he said, "Even so would I do, were we both to live, and how much more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! What hast thou done?"She said: "I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said that no evil weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy life."He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: "Such is the wont of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. Tell me all the truth of it now at last."She said:

"Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth there is to tell:

There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well, Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very few;And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should not be;So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass (E'en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass, Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer's blow The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.

Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried, 'O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide Lamenting thy beloved and the folkmote of the spear, But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear He shall laugh at the foemen's edges and come back to thy lily breast And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.'

Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;'Come lie in mine arms! Come hither, and we twain the night to wake!

And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.'

So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave, The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.

But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love, For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move, Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;And she took the hammer's offspring, her unearned morning meed, And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior's sake.

But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow spake:

'Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart's desire;Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the fire, And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame, And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!

But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite, And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my despite, Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:

Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same, Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle's shame;He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse, And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people's curse.'

"Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:

And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they wane, And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.

Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.

I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?"He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again, and kissed her many times and said:

"Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!

Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!

Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was, Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!

Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds' mirth!"Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going as straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred as the swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch. He looked not once behind him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and filled his heart with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the hour of sundering.