I was made drink-boy and sword-bearer to him, and in lieu of other name was called Ragnar Lodbrog.

Agard's country was neighbour to the Frisians, and a sad, flat country of fog and fen it was.

I was with him for three years, to his death, always at his back, whether hunting swamp wolves or drinking in the great hall where Elgiva, his young wife, often sat among her women.

I was with Agard in south foray with his ships along what would be now the coast of France, and there I learned that still south were warmer seasons and softer climes and women.
But we brought back Agard wounded to death and slow-dying.

And we burned his body on a great pyre, with Elgiva, in her golden corselet, beside him singing.