Groa laughed again.  “Things must be as they are fated.  This now is my rede:  Asmund would turn Gudruda’s beauty to account, and that man must be rich in friends and money who gets her to wife, and in this matter the mind of Bjoern is as the mind of his father.  Now we will watch, and, when a good time chances, we will bear tales of Gudruda to Asmund and to her brother Bjoern, and swear that she oversteps her modesty with Eric.  Then shall Asmund be wroth and drive Eric from Gudruda’s side.  Meanwhile, I will do this:  In the north there dwells a man mighty in all things and blown up with pride.  He is named Ospakar Blacktooth.  His wife is but lately dead, and he has given out that he will wed the fairest maid in Iceland.  Now, it is in my mind to send Koll the Half-witted, my thrall, whom Asmund gave to me, to Ospakar as though by chance.  He is a great talker and very clever, for in his half-wits is more cunning than in the brains of most; and he shall so bepraise Gudruda’s beauty that Ospakar will come hither to ask her in marriage; and in this fashion, if things go well, thou shalt be rid of thy rival, and I of one who looks scornfully upon me.  But, if this fail, then there are two roads left on which strong feet may travel to their end; and of these, one is that thou shouldest win Eric away with thine own beauty, and that is not little.  All men are frail, and I have a draught that will make the heart as wax; but yet the other path is surer.”

“And what is that path, my mother?”

“It runs through blood to blackness.  By thy side is a knife and in Gudruda’s bosom beats a heart.  Dead women are unmeet for love!”

Swanhild tossed her head and looked upon the dark face of Groa her mother.

“Methinks, with such an end to win, I should not fear to tread that path, if there be need, my mother.”

“Now I see thou art indeed my daughter.  Happiness is to the bold.  To each it comes in uncertain shape.  Some love power, some wealth, and some—­a man.  Take that which thou lovest—­I say, cut thy path to it and take it; else shall thy life be but a weariness:  for what does it serve to win the wealth and power when thou lovest a man alone, or the man when thou dost desire gold and the pride of place?  This is wisdom:  to satisfy the longing of thy youth; for age creeps on apace and beyond is darkness.  Therefore, if thou seekest this man, and Gudruda blocks thy path, slay her, girl—­by witchcraft or by steel—­and take him, and in his arms forget that thine own are red.  But first let us try the easier plan.  Daughter, I too hate this proud girl, who scorns me as her father’s light-of-love.  I too long to see that bright head of hers dull with the dust of death, or, at the least, those proud eyes weeping tears of shame as the man she hates leads her hence as a bride.  Were it not for her I should be Asmund’s wife, and, when she is gone, with thy help—­for he loves thee much and has cause to love thee—­this I may be yet.  So in this matter, if in no other, let us go hand in hand and match our wits against her innocence.”