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Updated: June 11, 2025
Gudrun's husband incites the Bonders to throw off the yoke of the licentious despot, Olaf Tryggvesson is proclaimed king, and the "great Jarl of Lade" is now a fugitive in the land he so lately ruled, accompanied by a single thrall, named Karker.
As divided in most editions the poems connected with the Volsung cycle, including the two on Ermanric, are fifteen in number: Gripisspa. Reginsmal, Fafnismal, Sigrdrifumal, a continued narrative compiled from different sources. Sigurd Fragment, on the death of Sigurd. First Gudrun Lay, on Gudrun's mourning, late. Brynhild's Hellride, a continuation of the preceding.
Nevertheless she was glad in hope, glorious and free, full of life and liberty. And he was still and soft and patient, for the time. They made their preparations to leave the next day. First they went to Gudrun's room, where she and Gerald were just dressed ready for the evening indoors. 'Prune, said Ursula, 'I think we shall go away tomorrow. I can't stand the snow any more.
Gudrun's brothers swore oaths of friendship with him, and he agreed to ride through the waverlowe, or ring of fire, disguised and win Brynhild for the eldest brother Gunnar. After the two bridals, he remembered his first passing through the flame, and his love for Brynhild returned.
It was some moments before anybody realised what was happening. From Halliday's table came half articulate cries, then somebody booed, then all the far end of the place began booing after Gudrun's retreating form.
Ursula began to revolt from her sister. One day as they were walking along the lane, they saw a robin sitting on the top twig of a bush, singing shrilly. The sisters stood to look at him. An ironical smile flickered on Gudrun's face. 'Doesn't he feel important? smiled Gudrun. 'Doesn't he! exclaimed Ursula, with a little ironical grimace. 'Isn't he a little Lloyd George of the air! 'Isn't he!
'Why have you come? came back Gudrun's strident cry of anger. 'What do you think you were doing? Gerald repeated, auto-matically. 'We were doing eurythmics, laughed Ursula, in a shaken voice. Gudrun stood aloof looking at them with large dark eyes of resentment, suspended for a few moments.
The provincial people, intimidated by Gudrun's perfect sang-froid and exclusive bareness of manner, said of her: 'She is a smart woman. She had just come back from London, where she had spent several years, working at an art-school, as a student, and living a studio life.
'I haven't thought about him: I've refrained, she said coldly. 'Yes, wavered Ursula; and the conversation was really at an end. The sisters found themselves confronted by a void, a terrifying chasm, as if they had looked over the edge. They worked on in silence for some time, Gudrun's cheek was flushed with repressed emotion. She resented its having been called into being.
The Pussum let it be known by her tone, that she was aware of Gudrun's listening. 'I suppose he didn't feel like it, replied Gerald. 'But why didn't he? pursued the Pussum. This was received in silence. There was an ugly, mocking persistence in the small, beautiful figure of the short-haired girl, as she stood near Gerald. 'Are you staying in town long? she asked. 'Tonight only.
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