Ragnar and the Crow Maiden

Crow, crow, raven’s foot
Spinning, tumbling on the air.
Come to me, come to me, thou fair
Raven hair.

Singing, wind in the sail,
Ragnar strides the deck
Black bread, he cries, black
As raven’s wing, as fire drek.
Why bring you me black bread?

Dark she was and dancing,
Black fire, red around the cot,
The Spider stopped her not.
Feared we were, the leader said,
Feared of cot, of web,
Of Spider dread.

Spider, crow and raven’s wing
You say she sings?
Aye Sire, like a blackbird on the wing
So she does sing.

Nay like the firecrest wren, another said,
High and bright and fierce, darting all about
Within, without.

She set us watch the bread
The leader said
And then she tripped her way about the cot, the while
The Spider sat herself within a corner with a smile
And naught was said
Of dimmer dread, and all.

Our eyes were strung on web-strings,
We forgot the bread, the leader said.

Forgot the bread for raven’s wing?
And so, he said, to me her bring
An’ she’s so fine I’ll hear her sing
But wait! Ah yes, and then her mind I’ll ring.


Crow, crow, raven’s foot
Spinning, tumbling on the air.
Come to me, come to me, thou fair,
Raven hair.
But neither naked, neither clad,
Nor yet in fast, nor broken bread,
And neither lonely nor alone
So shalt thou be
When thou dost come to me.

And back they went to Spider cot
Where all they got
Was singing ravens, cawing crows
And laughter, as the Spider knows.

Next morning as the sun arose
She came.
Alone, not lonely, black dog’s nose
Against white thigh,
The fisher’s net clinging close
About her form,
Red lips singing, brush his skin.
Wild garlic scent her breath brings.

Home across the water now,
No more affray, away
Across the tossing, tumbling seas
And bloodstained swords.
Now tumbles he in the warm sea
Of raven’s wing and white skin
Until the bloodstained sheets of birthing.
Four strong sons of morning gives she him.

Then came war, he must away
To ride the tide.
No longer at her side.

Away, they said, away.
She is a crow, a spider’s child
Of witchwood, no good.
Not a woman-queen at all.

And the king said, here is a girl, fair and tall,
A queen for Ragnar Lodbrock’s Hall.
And honey-gold, her tale she told
Into his cup of mead, she poured.
His eyes were awed.
His heart was gone astray.
I will put her away, he said.

And coming home he stood and looked in every way
But in her eye his would not stay.
But dropped his gaze before her.
And softly then she pulled the Spider’s threads,
Turning his eyes so he must look, was on her hook, again.

Away? She asked him. Aye,
I’ll go away, but e’er I go, stay
My lord and hear my say.

I am a princess, Aslaug is my name.
A daughter of the sun, the spinning wheel,
The Spider weaves the light.
Did you not know it?

And she dropped the burning ring
Into his hand. The gold shone.
And if you do not know it now
In nine months time the child I bear you
Will be dragon-eyed.

That night she held him in her arms and legs.
He was content.

The bloodstained sheets of birthing brought him forth
And Ragnar Lodbrock saw the truth.
The dragon’s eye shone redly.

And darkly she did sing
Of raven’s wing and golden ring unto her king.
And darkly he did dream.

But here she stayed and he ne’er strayed
Until the flood of Ella’s coming stemmed his tide.
And so he died.