Then Hall said that he had seen Swanhild after Atli’s slaying, and that she had told him that she and Eric should wed shortly, and that Eric would rule in Orkneys by her side.

Gudruda asked if that was all his tale.

“Yes, lady,” answered Hall, “that is all my tale, for after that I sailed and know not what happened.  But I am charged to give something to thee, and that by the Lady Swanhild.  She bade me say this also:  that, when thou lookest on the gift, thou shouldst think on a certain oath which Eric took as to the cutting of his hair.”  And he drew a linen packet from his breast and gave it to her.

Thrice Gudruda looked on it, fearing to open it.  Then, seeing the smile of mockery on Bjoern’s cold face, she took the shears that hung at her side and cut the thread with them.  And as she cut, a lock of golden hair rose from the packet, untwisting itself like a living snake.  The lock was long, and its end was caked with gore.

“Whose hair is this?” said Gudruda, though she knew the hair well.

“Eric’s hair,” said Hall, “that Swanhild cut from his head with Eric’s sword.”

Now Gudruda put her hand to her bosom.  She drew out a satchel, and from the satchel a lock of yellow hair.  Side by side she placed the locks, looking first at one and then at the other.

“This is Eric’s hair in sooth,” she said—­“Eric’s hair that he swore none but I should cut!  Eric’s hair that Swanhild shore with Whitefire from Eric’s head—­Whitefire whereon we plighted troth!  Say now, whose blood is this that stains the hair of Eric?”

“It is Atli’s blood, whom Eric first dishonoured and then slew with his own hand,” answered Hall.

Now there burned a fire on the hearth, for the day was cold.  Gudruda the Fair stood over the fire and with either hand she let the two locks of Eric’s hair fall upon the embers.  Slowly they twisted up and burned.  She watched them burn, then she threw up her hands and with a great cry fled from the hall.

Bjoern and Hall of Lithdale looked on each other.

“Thou hadst best go hence!” said Bjoern; “and of this I warn thee, Hall, though I hold thy tidings good, that, if thou hast spoken one false word, that will be thy death.  For then it would be better for thee to face all the wolves in Iceland than to stand before Eric in his rage.”

Again Hall bethought himself of the axe of Skallagrim, and he went out heavily.

That day a messenger came from Gudruda to Bjoern, saying that she would speak with him.  He went to where she sat alone upon her bed.  Her face was white as death, and her dark eyes glowed.

“Eric has dealt badly with thee, sister, to bring thee to this sorrow,” said Bjoern.

“Speak no evil of Eric to me,” Gudruda answered.  “The evil that he has done will be paid back to him; there is little need for thee to heap words upon his head.  Hearken, Bjoern my brother:  is it yet thy will that I should wed Ospakar Blacktooth?”