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Updated: May 16, 2025
Groa once more: "Turn your feet and go back hence, lest Sigtryg vanquish you all with his own array, and fasten you to a cruel stake, your throats haltered with the cord, and doom your carcases to the stiff noose, and, glaring evilly, thrust out your corpses to the hungry raven."
"Nay, that I will not," quoth Swanhild: "for I love this man alone, and I would win him; and Gudruda I hate, and I would overthrow her. Give me of thy counsel." Groa laughed again. "Things must be as they are fated.
When Groa was questioned she laughed darkly, as was her fashion, and said that she knew nothing of it, never having seen the face of the child's father, who rose out of the sea at night. And for this cause some thought him to have been a wizard or the wraith of her dead husband; but others said that Groa lied, as many women have done on such matters.
Therefore I will not have the ring." "As thou wilt," said Asmund. "Pride is a good horse if thou ridest wisely," and he thrust the ring back upon his arm. Then people go to rest; but Swanhild seeks her mother, and tells her all that has befallen her, nor does Groa fail to listen. "Now I will make a plan," she says, "for these things have chanced well and Asmund is in a ripe humour.
On this ground, she has been identified with the heroine of Svipdag and Menglad, a poem undoubtedly old, though it has only come down in paper MSS. It is in two parts, the first telling how Svipdag aroused the Sibyl Groa, his mother, to give him spells to guard him on his journey; the second describing his crossing the wall of fire which surrounded his fated bride Menglad.
"This much, that after hay-harvest she will be my wife, and that is ill news for thee, Groa." Now Groa turned and grasped fiercely at the air with her thin hands. Her eyes started out, foam was on her lips, and she shook in her fury like a birch-tree in the wind, looking so evil that Asmund drew back a little way, saying: "Now a veil is lifted from thee and I see thee as thou art.
You're in a nice temper now, my dear. But just take a look at this, said Arni, throwing down the brown fox on the kitchen floor. At first Groa stared at her husband as if she had never seen him before. Then she shook her head and smiled sarcastically. You found it dead, I'll wager! Arni started. His face turned red and his eyes protruded. You would say that!
He was a huntsman, big enough and brave enough to cope with giants. He was the friend of Thor, the husband of Groa, the father of Swipdag, the enemy of giant Coller and the monster Sela.
"I know not," said Gudruda, but as she spoke she looked first on Asmund, then at Groa. "It is ill that Groa should stop here," whispered Björn again. "It is ill," answered Gudruda, and glided away. Asmund saw their talk and guessed its purport. Rousing himself he laughed aloud and called to Koll the Half-witted to pour the cups that he might name the toasts.
So Groa stayed on at Middalhof, and was lowly in her bearing and soft of speech. Now Atli the Good, earl of the Orkneys, comes into the story. It chanced that Atli had sailed to Iceland in the autumn on a business about certain lands that had fallen to him in right of his mother Helga, who was an Icelander, and he had wintered west of Reyjanes.
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