“Drink not, Unna! the draught is drugged!” and he struck at the vessel with his hand.
He smote it indeed, and so hard that it flew from her hand far down the hall.
But Unna had already drunk deep.
“The draught is drugged!” Asmund cried, and pointed to Groa, while all men stood silent, not knowing what to do.
“The draught is drugged!” he cried a third time, “and that witch has drugged it!” And he began to tear at his breast.
Then Groa laughed so shrilly that men trembled to hear her.
“Yes, lord,” she screamed, “the draught is drugged, and Groa the Witch-wife hath drugged it! Ay, tear thy heart out, Asmund, and Unna, grow thou white as snow—soon, if my medicine has virtue, thou shalt be whiter yet! Hearken all men. Asmund the Priest is Swanhild’s father, and for many a year I have been Asmund’s mate. What did I tell thee, lord?—that I would see the two of you dead ere Unna should take my place!—ay, and on Gudruda the Fair, thy daughter, and Björn thy son, and Eric Brighteyes, Gudruda’s love, and many another man—on them too shall my curse fall! Tear thy heart out, Asmund! Unna, grow thou white as snow! The draught is drugged and Groa, Ran’s gift! Groa the Witch-Wife! Groa, Asmund’s love! hath drugged it!”
And ere ever a man might lift a hand to stay her Groa glided past the high seat and was gone.
For a space all stood silent. Asmund ceased clutching at his breast. Rising he spoke heavily:
“Now I learn that sin is a stone to smite him who hurled it. Gudruda the Gentle spoke sooth when she warned me against this woman. New wed, new dead! Unna, fare thee well!”