The Penguin Book of Norse Myths: Gods of the Vikings by Crossley-Holland Kevin

Author:Crossley-Holland, Kevin [Crossley-Holland, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9780141937410
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 1996-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

23 The Ballad of Svipdag

The Ghastly Rotting Smell rose towards him. The cold began to burn him. The darkness reached up to him and he drew near to the place as dreadful as the worst of fears, the worst of dreams.

Even now, he did not flinch or falter. Svipdag was swift as light. He reached the gates of Niflheim, far under the world, and shouted, ‘Groa, wake! Wake, wise mother! I stand at the doors of the dead and call on you. Remember, before you went to your burial mound, remember how you told your son to ask for help.’

Then the seeress Groa rose out of her grave and slowly moved to the gates of Niflheim. ‘My only son,’ she moaned, ‘what death in life afflicts you? What dire fate makes you call on me who have left the quick world and lie in the mould?’

‘My father has married a two-faced woman,’ Svipdag said. ‘She is working against me. She bids me go where no man can safely go, and win the love of Menglad.’

‘That road is long,’ said Groa, ‘and the quest will be long, but love lasts long too. You may achieve your aim if the fates favour you.’

‘Then sing strong charms over me, mother. Guard your son if you can. I fear death will ambush me and I am still young.’

‘The first charm I’ll sing,’ Groa replied, ‘is well proven. Rani taught it to Rind. Shrug off whatever sickens you; depend on your own strength.

‘I’ll sing a second time then in case you are tempted to take the wrong path: the bolts of Urd will be railings to keep you on the right road.

‘Then third I’ll sing in case swollen rivers threaten you: the rivers Horn and Ruth will plunge into Niflheim, and the waters will part before you.

‘Then fourth I’ll sing in case enemies attack you on the gallows way: your wish will be their desire, and they’ll long only for peace.

‘Then fifth I’ll sing in case you’re fettered and have no freedom of movement: I sing a loosening spell over your thighs – and a lock will spring apart, releasing your limbs; chains will fall from your ankles.

‘Then sixth I’ll sing in case storms at sea go on the rampage in the way no man can: neither wind nor wave will harm you, and you’ll have a fair passage.

‘Then seventh I’ll sing in case you freeze in the high rocky mountains: the fatal frost will get no grip on your flesh, and your body will be unharmed.

‘Then eighth I’ll sing in case you have taken some dismal track in the darkness: no curse from a dead Christian woman will ever harm you.

‘Then ninth I’ll sing in case you have to debate with some brute of a giant: your head shall be well stocked with wits and your mouth with wise words.

‘Now take the road with all its hidden dangers, and let no evil work against your love! Carry your mother’s spells with you and keep them in your heart; you’ll prosper for as long as my words live in you.

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