The king looked toward the beast, saying finally, ‘I see no movement in it, but which one of you will now seize the opportunity to go against it?’
Bodvar said, ‘That would likely satisfy the curiosity of the bravest man. Hott, my friend, throw off the slander that men have laid on you, claiming that you have neither spirit nor courage. Go and kill the beast. You can see that no one else is too eager to do so.’
‘Right,’ said Hott, ‘I will set myself to that task.’
The king said, ‘I do not know where your courage has come from, Hott, but much has changed about you in a short time.’
Hott said, ‘For this task, give me the sword Golden Hilt, the one that you are holding, and then I will either kill the beast or find my own death.’
King Hrolf said, ‘That sword is not to be carried except by a man who is both strong in body and noble in spirit.’
Hott replied, ‘Assume, Sire, that I am made from such a mould.’
The king retorted, ‘How can one tell? Perhaps more has changed about you than is evident. Few would think that you are the same person. Take the sword, for it will serve you well if my instincts about you turn out to be correct.’
Then Hott went boldly against the beast, thrusting at it as soon as he was within striking distance. The beast fell down dead.
Bodvar said, ‘See, Sire, what he has now accomplished.’
The king answered, ‘Certainly he has changed greatly, but Hott alone did not kill the beast; rather you did it.’
Bodvar said, ‘That may be.’
The king said, ‘I knew when you came here that few would be your equal, but it seems to me that your finest achievement is that you have made Hott into another champion. He was previously thought to be a man in whom there was little probability of much luck. I do not want him called Hott any longer; instead, from now on he will be called Hjalti. You will now be called after the sword Golden Hilt.’
And here ends this tale of Bodvar and his brothers.
[ … ]
Queen Skuld Incites King Hjorvard
A long time passed during which King Hrolf and his champions stayed peacefully in Denmark, and no one attacked them. All Hrolf ’s subject kings remained obedient. They paid him their tribute, as did Hjorvard, his brother-in-law.
It happened that Queen Skuld spoke with her husband King Hjorvard. Sighing heavily, she said, ‘It suits me little that we should pay tribute to King Hrolf and be forced to be his underlings. You must not remain his subject.’
Hjorvard answered, ‘It suits us best to suffer this indignity, as the others do, and to let everything remain quiet.’
‘What a weakling you are,’ she said, ‘to accept whatever shame is handed to you.’
He replied, ‘It is not possible to challenge King Hrolf, and no one dares raise a shield against him.’
‘In this respect you are all so cowardly,’ she said. ‘There is no spirit in any of you, and so it will remain for those who take no risks. How will we know whether King Hrolf and his champions can be hurt unless they are put to the test? The times are changing,’ she said, ‘and I believe King Hrolf is a man without hope of victory. To my mind it does not seem outlandish to test if this assumption is true. Even if he is my kinsman, I will not spare him. He himself suspects that he will not gain the victory, and it is for this reason that he remains continually at home. I will now prepare a plan – one that might work – and I will spare no trouble in finding the proper way to force a showdown between us.’
Skuld was a powerful sorceress. She came from elfin stock on her mother’s side, and for this fact King Hrolf and his champions would pay.
‘First, I will send men to King Hrolf, asking him to relieve me of the paying of tribute for the next three years. Instead I will offer to pay him everything at once, according to his rights. I think this ruse will work, and if he accepts the idea, we need do nothing further.’
Messengers now went between them, doing as the queen wished. When asked, King Hrolf agreed to the request concerning the tribute. Time passed.
Queen Skuld Attacks King Hrolf at Yule
Meanwhile Skuld assembled a troop of the best fighters as well as the worst rabble from neighbouring provinces. This treachery was concealed so that King Hrolf was completely unaware of it. Likewise the champions suspected nothing, because it was done with the most skilful magic and sorcery. Skuld, to overpower her brother King Hrolf, fashioned a spell of high potency, which summoned elves, norns and countless other vile creatures. No human power could withstand so strong a force.
Meanwhile, King Hrolf and his champions were happily revelling and amusing themselves in Hleidargard. With skill and courtesy they took part in all the games known to such men. Each of them had a mistress for his pleasure.
And now there is more to be told. When Hjorvard’s and Skuld’s forces were fully prepared, they set out for Hleidargard, arriving in uncountable numbers just at Yule. King Hrolf had commanded lavish preparations for the feast, and his men sat drinking deeply that Yule evening. Outside the stronghold, Hjorvard and Skuld pitched their tents, which were large and long and strangely outfitted. There were many wagons, all filled with weapons and armour. King Hrolf paid no attention to the new arrivals. His thoughts were more on his generosity, magnificence and courage. He dwelt on the valour that lay in his heart, pondering how to provide for all his guests in a way that would allow his fame to travel farthest. He already had everything that might enhance the honour of a worldly king.
It is not mentioned that King Hrolf and his champions worshipped the old gods at any time. Rather, they put their trust in their own might and main. The holy faith, at that time, had not been proclaimed here in the northern lands and, for this reason, those who lived in the north had little knowledge of their Creator.
Next there is this to tell, Hjalti the Magnanimous went to the house of his mistress. It was then that he saw clearly that peace was not being prepared in the tents of Hjorvard and Skuld. But Hjalti raised no alarm, and his expression showed no concern. He lay now with his mistress; she was the fairest of women. After he had been there for a while, he sprang to his feet and said, ‘Which do you think better, two twenty-two-year-olds or one eighty-year-old man?’
She answered, ‘I think two twenty-two-year-olds better than men of eighty.’
‘You will pay for these words, you whore,’ said Hjalti, and he went up to her and bit off her nose. ‘You can blame me if anyone fights over you, but I expect that from now on, most will think you scarcely a treasure.’
‘You treat me miserably,’ she said, ‘and it is undeserved.’
‘Everyone,’ said Hjalti, ‘can be fooled by scheming.’
Hjalti then reached for his weapons, because he saw that the area around the stronghold was packed with men in armour, and that war standards had been raised. Realizing that battle was at hand, he made his way to the hall where King Hrolf sat with his champions.
‘Wake up, my lord king,’ said Hjalti. ‘War has come into our courtyard. The need is more for fighting than for fondling women. The gold in the hall will, I think, be little increased by the tribute from your sister Skuld. She has the fierceness of the Skoldungs, and I can tell you that it is no small army, with swords drawn and other weapons ready, which circles the fortress. King Hjorvard has not come on a friendly errand, nor has he any intention from now on of seeking your permission to rule his own kingdom.
‘Now is the time,’ said Hjalti, ‘for us to lead the forces of our king, that man who denies us nothing. Let us fulfil our solemn vows that we will defend the king who has become the most famous in all the northern lands. Let it be heard in every land how we repaid him for the weapons, armour and many other generous acts, because what faces us will not be a minor undertaking. We have for a long time, despite many clear indications, ignored what was coming. Now I have reason to suspect that momentous events, of the type that will long be remembered, are about to take place. Some might say that I perhaps speak from fear, but i
t may be that King Hrolf drinks for the last time with his champions and his retainers.
‘Rise now, all you champions,’ said Hjalti, ‘and be quick about parting from your mistresses. Other matters are staring you in the face. Prepare yourselves for what is about to happen. Up, all you champions! Everyone must arm himself at once.’
Then Hromund the Hard leapt up, followed by Hrolf the Swift-Handed, Svipdag and Beygad, and Hvitserk the Bold. Haklang was the sixth, Hardrefil the seventh, Haki the Valiant the eighth, Vott the Arrogant the ninth and Storolf was the name of the tenth. Hjalti the Magnanimous was the eleventh and Bodvar Bjarki was the twelfth. Bodvar was so named because he drove out King Hrolf’s bullying and unjust berserkers. Some he killed and none of them was successful against him. In comparison to him, the berserkers, when put to the test, were like children. Nevertheless, they always considered themselves superior, and they continually plotted against Bodvar.
Bodvar Bjarki immediately stood up. He put on his war gear and said that King Hrolf now badly needed brave men: ‘Heart and courage will be required of all those who choose to stand alongside King Hrolf, rather than to hide behind him.’
Then King Hrolf sprang to his feet. Showing not a trace of fear, he began to speak, ‘Let us now down the finest drink that can be had. We do it before the battle, making us cheerful, and in this way we show what manner of men Hrolf ’s champions are. Let us strive only to make our bravery so superior that it will never be forgotten, because gathered here are the finest and most courageous champions from all the surrounding lands. Tell Hjorvard and Skuld and their men that we will drink to our satisfaction before setting out to take the tribute.’
The king’s orders were obeyed. Skuld answered, ‘King Hrolf, my brother, is unlike all others, and the loss of such men is a dreadful misfortune. Nevertheless, all now moves towards the same end.’ So highly was King Hrolf regarded that he was praised by both friends and enemies.
The Great Battle
After drinking for a while, King Hrolf leapt up from the high seat, and all his champions followed his example. They left the pleasing drink and immediately went outside, everyone, that is, except Bodvar Bjarki. He was nowhere to be seen, a fact that greatly perplexed the others. They thought it possible that Bodvar had been captured or killed.
As soon as they went outside, a furious battle began. King Hrolf pushed forward with his standard. He was accompanied on both sides by his champions and by all the men of the stronghold. These latter were not few in number, even if they did not count for much in battle. Much was to be seen: massive blows struck helmets and mail coats while swords and spears flashed in the air. So numerous were the corpses that the ground was entirely covered with them.
Hjalti the Magnanimous said, ‘Many mail coats are now slit open and many weapons are broken; helmets are smashed and brave knights are thrown from their mounts. Our king is in fine humour, for now he is as cheerful as when drinking deepest of his ale. He strikes alike with both hands, and in battle he is unlike other kings. To me he seems to have the strength of twelve men, so many brave men has he killed. Now King Hjorvard can see that the sword Skofnung cuts; it rings loudly within their skulls.’ The nature of Skofnung was such that it sang aloud when it struck bone.
The battle now became so fierce that nothing could withstand King Hrolf and his champions. Skofnung in hand, King Hrolf fought in a way that seemed a marvel. His courage made a great impression on King Hjorvard’s army, whose men fell in heaps.
Hjorvard and his men saw a great bear advancing in front of King Hrolf ’s troop. The bear was always beside the king, and it killed more men with its paw than any five of the king’s champions did. Blows and missiles glanced off the animal, as it used its weight to crush King Hjorvard’s men and their horses. Between its teeth, it tore everything within reach, causing a palpable fear to spread through the ranks of King Hjorvard’s army.
Hjalti looked around for his companion Bodvar but did not see him. He said to King Hrolf, ‘What does it mean when Bodvar looks to his own safety and does not stand beside the king? We thought him such a champion, which indeed he has often proven himself to be.’
King Hrolf answered, ‘Bodvar will be where he serves us best, if it is he who decides. Look to your own pride and prowess and do not reproach him, because not one of you is his equal. I do not hold this disparity against any of you, because you are all the most courageous of champions.’
Hjalti now ran back to the king’s chamber, where he found Bodvar sitting idle. Hjalti spoke, ‘How long shall we wait for this most famous of men? It is a major disgrace that you are not on your feet. You should be testing the strength of your arms, which are as strong as a bear’s. Get up now, Bodvar Bjarki, my master, otherwise I will burn down the house and you in it. There is dishonour in this conduct for such a champion as you. While the king endangers his life for us, you lose the renown that you have for so long enjoyed.’
Then Bodvar stood up. He sighed deeply and said, ‘You need not try to frighten me, Hjalti, because I have not yet begun to be afraid, but now I am quite prepared to go. When I was young I fled from neither fire nor steel. Fire have I seldom tested, although the passage of steel weapons is something that I have endured. Until now, I have survived both. You can in truth say that I wish to fight at my utmost level. King Hrolf has always called me a champion in front of his men. I have also many other things to repay. First there is our bond by marriage and the twelve estates that he gave me; and then there are the many valuable gifts. I killed the berserker Agnar, a man of no lesser rank than that of a king, and that deed is well remembered.’ Bodvar now recounted for Hjalti many of his remarkable feats, noting that he had killed many men. He asked Hjalti, therefore, to recognize that he went into battle without fear, adding, ‘Although I think that in this current battle we are grappling with something far stranger than either of us has ever experienced. But you, Hjalti, by disturbing me here, have not been as helpful to the king as you think you have. It was nearly decided which side had gained the victory. You have acted more out of ignorance than out of enmity to the king. Among the king’s champions there is no one except you whom I would have permitted to call me out, as you have done. Anyone else, except for the king himself, I would have killed. Now events will run their course, turning out as they will, and no action on our part will affect the outcome. In truth, I can tell you that in many ways I can now offer the king far less support than before you woke me.’
Hjalti responded, ‘It is clear that my concern is for you and King Hrolf. Yet it is difficult to make the right decision when events develop as they have.’
After Hjalti’s challenge, Bodvar stood up and went out to the battle. The bear was gone from King Hrolf’s force, and now the battle began to turn against the king. Queen Skuld, from where she sat in her black tent on the witch’s scaffold, had been unable to work any magic while the bear was in King Hrolf’s ranks.
The situation then changed as much as when dark night follows a bright day. King Hrolf’s men now saw a hideous boar advancing from King Hjorvard’s force. In size it appeared to be no smaller than a three-year-old bull. Its colour was wolf-grey. An arrow shot out from each of its bristles and, in a monstrous way, it mowed down King Hrolf’s retainers in droves.
Hewing with both hands, Bodvar Bjarki moved forcefully around. He thought of nothing else but to cause as much damage as possible before he fell. Men fell dead across each other in front of him, until both his shoulders were covered with blood. Corpses were heaped high all around him, and he behaved as though overcome with madness. However many of Hjorvard’s and Skuld’s men he and Hrolf’s champions killed, their enemies’ ranks, remarkably, never diminished. It was as though Hrolf ’s men were having no effect, and they thought they had never come upon so strange an occurrence.
Bodvar said, ‘Deep are the ranks of Skuld’s army. I suspect that the dead are wandering about. They rise up again to fight against us, and it becomes difficult to fight with ghosts. As many limbs
as we cleave, shields as we split, helmets and mail coats as we hew apart, and war leaders we cut down, the encounters with the dead are the grimmest. We lack the strength to combat such opponents. But where is that champion of King Hrolf who most questioned my courage and, until I answered him, repeatedly challenged me to enter the fight? I do not see him now, and it is not often that I criticize others.’
Then Hjalti said, ‘You speak truthfully, and you are not a man to slander others. Here stands the man named Hjalti, but I still have some work to do. There is not much distance between us, and I could use the support of good men, foster brother, because all my armour has been hacked off me. Even though I believe that I am fighting to my limit, I am no longer able to avenge all the blows I have received. But now we must hold nothing back, if we are to be guests this evening in Valhalla. Certainly we have never come up against a marvel such as we now face, although we have long been forewarned about the events now occurring.’
Bodvar said, ‘Listen to my words. I have fought in twelve pitched battles. Always I have been called fearless and have never given way to a berserker. It was I who encouraged King Hrolf to seek out King Adils in his home. We were met with deceit, but that was nothing compared to this foulness. My heart is now so gripped by these events that my eagerness to continue the fight has diminished. A short while ago, in the earlier clash, I was up against King Hjorvard. We were face to face, and neither of us threw insults at the other, although we exchanged blows for a time. He gave me a blow that I found heavy, while I, for my part, hacked off a hand and a foot. I landed another blow on his shoulder, slicing him down his side, for the length of his spine. His reaction was not even to sigh. It was as if he dozed for a time, and I thought him dead. Few men like him are to be found, for he fought afterward no less boldly than before, and I cannot say what it is that is driving him. Assembled here against us are many men, rich and powerful, pouring in from all directions, so that there is no defence. I do not recognize Odin among them, although I strongly suspect that this foul and unfaithful son of the evil one will be hovering in the background and causing us harm. If someone would only point him out to me I would squeeze him like a detestable puny mouse. That vile, poisonous creature would be shamelessly treated if I could just get my hands on him. Who would not have bitterness in his heart if he saw his liege lord as ill treated as we now see ours?’
Sagas and Myths of the Northmen Page 8
