The Tale of Asmund and his Fall

O have you heard the sailor's tale, which sad

Upon the ancient seas does speak a strange

And eerie fate of kings? Who in the storm

That rushed upon the road of whales did seek

To battle proud, a scion of the ancient

Kings, and sweetest son of Freya, brave

And handsome? Long had Dietrich fought the feud

Against good Freya's husband, now his son

He bid to battle on the seas, and so

Our melancholy tale. Give ear to what

A salty sailor, I, shall share with thee!

Engage in battle, now the ships go out

To meet the vowed time of fate, but Gods,

In sacred council seeing all the feud

Of Freya's husband's son, and Dietrich, bid

The bright and shining father stay out of

This too-prolonged feud, which futile flows,

As quarrels ought not, well beyond the pale

Of moderation ; or to call back son

From promised battle --- but his honor knows

The father well, such shame as running, ne'er

This fame-beseeking son, whom fates did say

His name upon the halls of time would write

Its burning etch in minds of men fore'er,

Would risk ; but leave his boy behind, the Gods'

Forbiddance notwithstanding, ne'er would he,

But entering not the fray would merely watch

Upon the decks of Gnodir, famous ship

Five thousand warriors holding, Asmund-held,

His son, a gift his father gave from Odin's

Treasures as a boon for risky errands

Many times adventured for the Gods;

And he would over-watch, ensure his son

Was safe, and safe-return ; and then would laugh

Upon the slaughtered corpse of Halfdan's son,

Who long ago refused his peace, now dared

To threaten Erich's son, when peace was all

The Gods did bid --- well, then, his fate was sealed!

But not at his hands, as the Gods forbade,

But yet his son's, whom he would ward on deck.

Slipped out from sun-reflected clouds of sky's

Most doughty warriors' stronghold.

Then set sail,

The father and the son, and all the brave

Assembled warriors, towards the bay assign'd.

Where Dietrich and his fearsome fleet did wait.

The air a moment still, as sails did sail

In coasting glide, aside the bows of foes,

Before the wake of battle, silent scan

The eyes of foes upon each other, sizing

Up the enemy, or lips in whispered

Prayer to favorite patrons, eerie all

The still, as bowstrings taut, the arrows pointed,

Hating eyes respect despite the foe.

Then metal ring, as thousand hilts did clash,

With leap, and whirr of feathered wands through air,

The music of the waters drowned by din

Of sword and roar and arrow-flying, cries

Of first-bled casualties, the fall ; then from

Atop the heightened deck of Gnodir Asmund

Spied the hated sight of far-famed Dietrich :

Leapt, with single bound, and raging wod,

As seasoned raiders scream into their shields,

And flew the air from deck to solid deck,

His sword a pointed, iron banner, held

Before him, to inspire courage. "No!"

King Erich screamed from Gnodir, "No, my son!"

He futile-screeched, not seeing this, but thought

From high atop the decks content to lead

The battle Asmund would remain, but now

Into the sharpened jaws of death did leap,

Just as that witch had long ago forewarned,

But now, the flood of melee, warrior-thick

Between them as a wall, he watched in horror,

Pushing, yet in vain ; upon the shield

Of doughty Dietrich Asmund pounded, brave,

But less than hundred-battle-trained as he,

The heir of Halfdan, victor of the West,

His blows were child's play to block, though struck

With courage admirable ; but then, with one,

And most enterrible-fated blow, he struck --

The far-famed Odin-favored king -- struck down

The handsome prize of Freya's womb, the boy,

And fell the all of Erich's hopes in life.

Like seas at low tide parting, waves of ranks

Of fighting soldiers, Erich, now beyond

His rage, does push through, bold, forgetting vows

To stand aside, and sword in hand, to slaughter

Offers up a dozen, then a dozen

More to senseless Gods, as he now sees

Them. Then a dozen more, as if with cuts

His hand could seam the bloody gashes slashed

Upon his fallen son, and even Dietrich,

Bold, but nonetheless a wise man, backed

Away to lead the battle further back.

And now the ravens' meat beside his feet,

His son agrasping, leapt with force on Gnodir,

Magic spells enchanting o'er his son

To heal his paling cheeks, but one by one,

The Galdurs failed ; O long had served him, now

Had failed when most in hour of need he had!

O curses! O blood-encurdled pleas for mercy,

Screeched in foreign tongues to Gods above!

Without avail! O horror!

Now did Dietrich

Seize his chance, and send his Vikings o'er

To scuttle Gnodir, hacking holes in hull

To waves bebring adown, adown to Hel!

And Erich, who the men were watching for

Their orders, sat oblivious, and howled ;

And then that greatest ship the world has seen

Careened into the gaping waves, its

nose

A slow-diving beak of fish-seeking bird.

And then.

Oh then, that last and terr'ble breath of Asmund.

A quake upon the hills and valleys shakes

The dust, and in the sea, the raucous waves!

Those waves like grey, unrighteous beasts of prey

With teeth and fins, like monstrous sharks in swarm

Of frenzied blood, upon the wracking surface!

How the winds with mighty, billow'd biceps

Lifted up the weighty waves, then let

Them down with whoosh, and shock of stormy splash!

And mired with gore of bloodied limb, the sea,

The princes' battlefield, did weep with red

And unredeeming tears of bracken grey!

A tossed and turmoiled grave of fallen corpses.

Ah, Erich on the deck, forlorn and howling!

Bloodied boy within his crumpled arms.

His eyes compete with clouds to sting the salt

Of water'd wave, as fade the day of eyes

His son once looked out hours before, before...

Before that thief of Father's sons had struck,

Had struck two souls in one sole body, his,

Before his son's, without whom mortal flesh

Is but a hollow dungeon : down, O down

The deck approached the sinking waves as all

The glorious hull of Gnodir met in shameful

Wed the awful bride of Aegir : sunk,

With arms still wrapped around, his lungs a rasping

Curse-choir song-hall barking blackened oaths

At every God he knew, except for She ...

"Ah, She ... That queen O ne'ermore to be seen!

O crests like fins of sharks, not soon enough

Your rav'nous jaws engulf this hollow'd flesh,

Who now, too-willing, leaves goodbye to earth

And greets my woman's father's yard, the sea!

Ah sea most cruel and unforgiving, take

This wretch from sight of bloodied sun that o'er

The slip of Western disc now falls, and paled,

So wan of emptied veined blood, O ghost

So white and wraithlike in the sky, Ye moon,

Who once did have me fetch a cursed sword

Whose curse, now come to fruit, shall in my fruit

Now kill me full at last ; ah, waves, betake!

Betake me down into your teary kingdom,

All my tears in you now drowning, take

Me down, o down to Niflhel, I care not!

A father asks the wyrm to tear his corpse

When all the life his son did breathe he can't,

Though reckoned quite a warrior, save ; o down

For good I go, hard world, and ne'er return!"

And sailors say when storms are rarely wild

As that shark-infested storm so long

Ago, a ghostly pair of ships is seen,

In hail, as sea fights sky in pointed blows,

And on the vaprous decks the wraiths do war!

Do war, and shall in hailstorm ever after!

So do sailors say, and swear they've seen.

And some say when the sea is calm again,

A seal is seen out in the waters, playing.

Codgers yarn a mermaid tends him there,

The sweetest voice they never heard, upon

A promontory rock above the waves.

And so the old men pass their time in tales

About the fire, wishing they were seal,

and she were their enchanting mistress, ah!

Have you this tearful, poignant tale enough

Now sated? Pass the briny seaman's tale

Along to all who wish to hear its sorrow.