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Updated: June 7, 2025
Syvert Like brier-roses thy red cheeks blush, Borghild And thine are rough like the thorny bush; Both An' a heigho! Syvert So fresh and green is the sunny lea; O heigh ho! Borghild The fiddle twangeth so merrily; O heigh ho! Syvert So lightly goeth the lusty reel, Borghild And round we whirl like a spinning-wheel; Both An' a heigho! Syvert Thine eyes are bright like the sunny fjord; O heigh ho!
A dark suspicion shot through the bridegroom's mind. He stared intently upon the weeping Borghild then turned his gaze to the fiddler, who, still regarding her, stood playing, with a half-frenzied look and motion. "You cursed wretch!" shrieked Syvert, and made a leap over two benches to where Truls was standing.
And now she holds the funeral feast for her brother by the aid and counsel of the king, and makes ready all things therefor or in the best of wise, and bade thither many great men. At that feast, Borghild the queen bare the drink to folk, and she came over against Sinfjofli with a great horn, and said "Fall to now and drink, fair stepson!"
With three great strides he reached the birch-tree; at his feet sat Borghild rocking herself to and fro and weeping piteously. Without a word he seated himself at her side and tried to catch a glimpse of her face; but she hid it from him and went on sobbing.
The parish was filled with rumors, and after the Christmas holiday it was told for certain that the proud maiden of Skogli had been promised in marriage to Syvert Stein. It was the general belief that the families had made the match, and that Borghild, at least, had hardly had any voice in the matter.
With a tremendous crash something black darted through the air and a white smoke brooded over the bridal boat. The bridegroom stood pale and stunned. At his feet lay Borghild lay for a moment still, as if lifeless, then rose on her elbows, and a dark red current broke from her breast. The smoke scattered.
"Yes, you may steer my boat and be my helmsman, or you may be my bridegroom, if you would like that better." "Yes, I think I should rather be your bridegroom," and he gave her a long, strange look which almost frightened her. The years slipped by, and before Borghild knew it, she had grown into womanhood.
They both cried when the pastor poured the water on their heads; his mother hushed him, blushed, and looked timidly around her; but the woman who carried Borghild lifted her high up in her arms so that everybody could see her, and the pastor smiled benignly, and the parishioners said that they had never seen so beautiful a child.
But Sinfjotli betook himself to warfare anew; and therewith he had sight of an exceeding fair woman, and yearned above all things for her; but that same woman was wooed also of the brother of Borghild, the king's wife: and this matter they fought out betwixt them, and Sinfjotli slew that king; and thereafter he harried far and wide, and had many a battle and even gained the day; and he became hereby honoured and renowned above all men; but in autumn tide he came home with many ships and abundant wealth.
And she made Sinfiotli welcome to the Hall of the Branstock. But although she showed herself friendly to him her heart was set upon his destruction. That night there was a feast in the Hall of the Branstock and Borghild the Queen went to all the guests with a horn of mead in her hand. She came to Sinfiotli and she held the horn to him. "Take this from my hands, O friend of Sigmund," she said.
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