Hrolf Kraki's Saga (36 page)
The runes she cast, the beings she summoned, gave Skuld foreshadowings of woe. They could not or would not tell that which would let her make ready. Another strangeness elsewhere was working against her spells, blocking her off from tomorrow.
“I think,” she cried once to him who rose from the sea, “Odin wanted me for naught but to wreak his spite.”
“Do you think it was mere spite?” he answered. “The Father of Victories must cast down whoever might bring a stop to war. He may well have made welcome King Hrolf Kraki and his men, to feast with him till the Weird of the World. Whether or not that is true, about the afterlife of heroes, sure it is that their names will live.”
“And mine?”
“Yes, yours too, in its way.”
Skuld sought her husband’s grave. She missed him more than she would have awaited, the man she mocked and scourged while he humbly loved her. The thralls
she told off to tend the barrow had been slothful about their work.
Early in spring, the host of King Thori and Queen Yrsa took ship over the Sound. Skuld had filled those waters with nicors and krakens. They swarmed at the fleet, saw Elk-Frodhi in the prow of the first dragon, and fled to their lairs. Likewise did the trolls and drows she had set to keep Zealand for her. His was a might more grim than theirs.
He led the attack on Leidhra. He burst through the rows of her fear-weakened guards and into the hall. He caught her in his ugly hands, clapped a sealskin bag over her head and drew the strings tight. “Not for nothing was I born,” he said. His brother fought to his side, and between them they put to death Skuld the witch-queen.
During that fray, fire broke loose. The whole burg burned. “That is well,” said Thori Hound’s-Foot. “This ground is cleansed.”
The avengers gave what was left of the kingdom to the daughters of Hrolf. Thereafter each went back to his own: Thori and his Götar to their dales, the Swedes to old Queen Yrsa, Elk-Frodhi to his loneliness.
Drifa and her sister were well-liked. However, women could not steer when things were breaking asunder, and their sons were too young. Erelong the lordship passed, in friendly wise, to a grandson of Helgi through a leman. He saved something from the wreck.
Long would the years and the hundreds of years be until Denmark was whole again. Now watchfires burned anew to warn of foes on their way. Vikings, outlaws, wild men harried dwellers throughout the North. They wrought no worse harm than did the kings, unnumbered and uncurbed: torch, sword, free folk dragged off to thralldom, the wariness of men and the weeping of women. Nothing but a tale was left of a day which had been.
Here ends the saga of Hrolf Kraki and his warriors.
About the Author
Poul Anderson (1926–2001) grew up bilingual in a Danish American family. After discovering science fiction fandom and earning a physics degree at the University of Minnesota, he found writing science fiction more satisfactory. Admired for his “hard” science fiction, mysteries, historical novels, and “fantasy with rivets,” he also excelled in humor. He was the guest of honor at the 1959 World Science Fiction Convention and at many similar events, including the 1998 Contact Japan 3 and the 1999 Strannik Conference in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Besides winning the Hugo and Nebula Awards, he has received the Gandalf, Seiun, and Strannik, or “Wanderer,” Awards. A founder of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, he became a Grand Master, and was inducted into the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame.
In 1952 he met Karen Kruse; they married in Berkeley, California, where their daughter, Astrid, was born, and they later lived in Orinda, California. Astrid and her husband, science fiction author Greg Bear, now live with their family outside Seattle.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1973 by Trigonier Trust
Cover design by Mauricio Díaz
978-1-5040-2439-6
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
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