Atli groaned aloud. "I know this now, Eric," he said: "that thou
speakest truth, and once more I have been deceived. Eric, I forgive thee
all, for no man may fight against woman's witchcraft, and witch's wine.
Swanhild is evil to the heart. Yet, Eric, I lay this doom upon thee--I
do not lay it of my own will, for I would not harm thee, whom I love,
but because of the words that the Norns put in my mouth, for now I am
fey in this the hour of my death. Thou hast sinned, and that thou didst
sin against thy will shall avail thee nothing, for of thy sin fate shall
fashion a handle to the spear which pierces thee. Henceforth thou art
accursed. For I tell thee that this wicked woman Swanhild shall drag
thee down to death, and worse than death, and with thee those thou
lovest. By witchcraft she brought thee to Straumey, by lies she laid me
here before thee. Now by hate and might and cruel deeds shall she bring
thee to lie more low than I do. For, Eric, thou art bound to her, and
thou shalt never loose the bond!"
Atli ceased a while, then spoke again more faintly:
"Hearken, comrades," he cried; "my strength is well-nigh spent. Ye
shall swear four things to me--that ye will give Eric Brighteyes and
Skallagrim Lambstail safe passage from Straumey. That ye will tell
Swanhild the Fatherless, Groa's daughter and Atli's wife, that, at last,
I know her for what she is--a murderess, a harlot, a witch and a liar;
and that I forgive Eric whom she tricked, but that her I hate and spit
upon.
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