EGIL The word of truth.
[A little girl, moving back some of the flowers, has disclosed the dead body of Arfi, blood-stained.]
THE LITTLE GIRL He’s still asleep.
THORDIS [Goes to it with a cry.] Arfi!
WULDOR I thought it, Ingimund; he’s murdered.
INGIMUND His bane! What hand struck this?
EGIL Lo, I will tell; The dream must end. Thou saidest: He shall perish, And all the spirits of light, freed from that dread, Shall strew his charnel, singing.
INGIMUND Madman! Thou—
YORUL [Entering from the thicket.] I murdered him.
THORDIS [Starting up from the body.] Yorul!