“Ay, Asmund, a wondrous blade indeed. There is no other such in the world, for the dwarfs forged it of old, and he shall be unconquered who holds it aloft. This was King Odin’s sword, and it is named Whitefire. Ralph the Red took it from King Eric’s cairn in Norway, and he strove long with the Barrow-Dweller[*] before he wrenched it from his grasp. But my father won it and slew Ralph, though he had never done this had Whitefire been aloft against him. But Ralph the Red, being in drink when the ships met in battle, fought with an axe, and was slain by my father, and since then Whitefire has been the last light that many a chief’s eyes have seen. Look at it, Asmund.”
[*] The ghost in the cairn.
Now he drew the great sword, and men were astonished as it flashed aloft. Its hilt was of gold, and blue stones were set therein. It measured two ells and a half from crossbar to point, and so bright was the broad blade that no one could look on it for long, and all down its length ran runes.
“A wondrous weapon, truly!” said Asmund. “How read the runes?”
“I know not, nor any man—they are ancient.”
“Let me look at them,” said Groa, “I am skilled in runes.” Now she took the sword, and heaved it up, and looked at the runes and said, “A strange writing truly.”
“How runs it, housekeeper?” said Asmund.
“Thus, lord, if my skill is not at fault:—
“Whitefire is my name—
Dwarf-folk forged me—
Odin’s sword was I—
Eric’s sword was I—
Eric’s sword shall I be—
And where I fall there he must follow me.”
Now Gudruda looked at Eric Brighteyes wonderingly, and Ospakar saw it and became very angry.