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Updated: May 7, 2025
They found that Ragnar was dead, and that Kraka had already married one Brak. Then they remembered the father's treasure, dug up the money, and bore it off. But Erik's fame had gone before him, and Gotar had learnt all his good fortune.
Ragnar, who had already swung himself round in his quick fashion, spoke back over his shoulder: "Isn't that enough for you? Do you want to hunt a skull or the raven sitting on it? Or is this, perchance, one of Olaf's riddles? If so, I am too cold to guess riddles just now." "Yet I think there is one for you to guess, brother," I said gently, "and it is: Where is the live bear hiding?
When she was taken to the cabin Ragnar looked at her in delight. He thought that she surpassed Tora in beauty, and offered a prayer to Odin, asking for the love of the maiden. Then he took the gold-embroidered dress which Tora had worn and offered it to Kraka, saying in verse, in the fashion of those times: "Will you have Tora's robe? It suits you well. Her white hands have played upon it.
"I shall be in a great hurry if I do not do that," I answered, laughing. But it was my thought that maybe when once my back was turned on the town, I should not have time to think of going near King Alsi's guard. Then I went to find Ragnar the earl, for we thought it well that he should know what was on hand.
A Slavonic king, Daxo, offers Ragnar's son Whitesark his daughter and half his realm, or death, and the captive strangely desires death by fire. A captive king is exposed, chained to wild beasts, thrown into a serpent-pit, wherein Ragnar is given the fate of the elder Gunnar in the Eddic Lays, Atlakvida.
We went quietly back to the town, and there was only one thing that I wished, and that was that Havelok had not had to tell his name twice. Ragnar was full of thanks to us for our help, and said that he would that we would come to Norfolk with him. "We have a man who knows you also," he said, "but he has been with our princess for a long time now. He is called Mord, and is her chamberlain.
It was not so good a hall as was Jarl Sigurd's in Denmark, for it was not rich with carving and colour as was his, and the arms on the wall were few, and the hangings might have been brighter and better in a king's place. "Our king does not seem to keep much state," Ragnar said, looking round as I was looking, and we both laughed.
Ragnar had scarcely ceased speaking, when heavy and slow footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. Like an infuriated tigress waiting for her prey, Mrs. Ulrica, enveloped in her crimson shawl, sat up in her bed; her eyes flashing with rage, and her face flushed to a redness which outvied the crimson of her shawl. She was awaiting the approach of her husband.
Wessex, therefore, remained faithful to him, at least for a time, but Mercia was utterly lost; and Edgar was recognised as the lawful king north of the Thames, by all parties; friends and foes, even by Edwy himself. Many months had passed away since the destruction of the hall of Aescendune and the death of the unhappy Ragnar, and the spring of 958 had well-nigh ended.
Some tell how Ragnar Lodbrog, a great hero of these Northern tales, was seized by Aella, King of the Northumbrians, and was thrown into a dungeon full of serpents, and how, while he was dying of the bites of the serpents, he sang a wonderful death-song, telling of all his old fights, and calling on his sons to come and avenge him. The year 871 the Danes for the first time entered Wessex.
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