Denmark -- History -- To 1241; Folklore -- Scandinavia
On this request the king at once took the sheath from his girdle and
gave it to him, being forced to abate his hatred by the self-control of
his foe. Thus he was mollified by the prudent feigning of the other, and
with goodwill gave him for his own the weapon which he had cast with
ill will. And thus Erik, by taking the wrong done him in a dissembling
manner, turned it into a favour, accepting as a splendid gift the steel
which had been meant to slay him. For he put a generous complexion on
what Frode had done with intent to harm. Then they gave themselves up
to rest. In the night Gunwar awoke Erik silently, and pointed out to him
that they ought to fly, saying that it was very expedient to return with
safe chariot ere harm was done. He went with her to the shore, where he
happened to find the king's fleet beached: so, cutting away part of
the sides, he made it unseaworthy, and by again replacing some laths he
patched it so that the damage might be unnoticed by those who looked at
it. Then he caused the vessel whither he and his company had retired to
put off a little from the shore.
The king prepared to give them chase with his mutilated ships, but soon
the waves broke through; and though he was very heavily laden with his
armour, he began to swim off among the rest, having become more anxious
to save his own life than to attack that of others. The bows plunged
over into the sea, the tide flooded in and swept the rowers from their
seats. When Erik and Roller saw this they instantly flung themselves
into the deep water, spurning danger, and by swimming picked up the
king, who was tossing about. Thrice the waves had poured over him and
borne him down when Erik caught him by the hair, and lifted him out of
the sea. The remaining crowd of the wrecked either sank in the waters,
or got with trouble to the land. The king was stripped of his dripping
attire and swathed round with dry garments, and the water poured in
floods from his chest as he kept belching it; his voice also seemed
to fail under the exhaustion of continual pantings. At last heat was
restored to his limbs, which were numbed with cold, and his breathing
became quicker. He had not fully got back his strength, and could sit
but not rise. Gradually his native force returned. But when he was asked
at last whether he sued for life and grace, he put his hand to his eyes,
and strove to lift up their downcast gaze. But as, little by little,
power came back to his body, and as his voice became more assured, he
said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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