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Updated: May 12, 2025
For an instant there passed through his mind, like a prospect shown by a flash of lightning, a sharp memory of the hermit Andreas. Instinctively he drew back, but the first words spoken dispelled the thought. "I have waited for thee, Estein." "Atli!" he exclaimed. "Ay," said the old man. "I see thou knewest not where thy way would lead thee.
"Even as over the windows of this poor house there hang those skins, so over my life hangs a curtain which may not yet be fully lifted perchance the fates may decree that it shall ever hide me. A little, however, I may venture to raise it. Listen, Estein!" As he said the last words Atli stooped, and lifting two large logs cast them on the fire.
I have shed much blood, though but one life haunts me now at the last, and that is the life of Atli the Earl, for he was no match for my might and he is dead because of my sin. With my own blood I will wash away the blood of Atli, and then I seek another place, leaving nothing but a tale to be told in the ingle when fall the winter snows.
Eric rose and turned to meet the Earl, looking on him with sad eyes. For Atli, his face was as the face of a trapped wolf, for he was mad with rage at the shame that had been put upon him and the ill tale that Swanhild had told of Eric's dealings with her. "It seems that the Earl has heard of these tidings," said Skallagrim. "Then I shall be spared the telling of them," answered Eric.
"He is a certain trader from Norway, whom men call Estein," said Atli, still looking at her curiously. "I know not the name," she said; and then adding with a slight shiver, "How cold this country is," she turned abruptly and left the room again. The old man remained lost in thought. "Strange, passing strange," he muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead. "Can she have seen him? Or can it be "
Eric parried, then whirled Whitefire on high and smote once and once only! Down rushed the bright blade like a star through the night. Sword and shield did Atli lift to catch the blow. Through shield it sheared, and arm that held the shield, through byrnie mail and deep into Earl Atli's side. He fell prone to earth, while men held their breath, wondering at the greatness of that stroke.
She loved much to talk with him, even of Gudruda her rival; but no word of love passed her lips. Nevertheless, she did but bide her time, for when she struck she determined to strike home. Atli and Eric were ever side by side, and Eric gave the Earl much good counsel. He promised to do this also, for now, being simple-minded, his doubts had passed and he had no more fear of Swanhild.
Atli was the eldest son; a man yielding and soft-natured, easy, and meek withal, and all men liked him well: another son they had called Grettir; he was very froward in his childhood; of few words, and rough; worrying both in word and deed. Little fondness he got from his father Asmund, but his mother loved him right well.
He wore a helmet on his head, a sword was girt at his side, and in his hand was a spear which had a very broad blade. The weather was rainy; Atli had sent his men to mow the hay, and some were in the North at Horn on some work. Atli was at home with a few men only. Thorbjorn arrived alone towards midday and rode up to the door. The door was shut and no one outside.
King Atli answered, "Grim art thou in that thou hast murdered thy sons, and given me their flesh to eat, and little space passes betwixt ill deed of thine and ill deed." Gudrun said, "My heart is set on the doing to thee of as great shame as may be; never shall the measure of ill be full to such a king as thou art."
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