he had been drugged, and the hair shorn from him in his sleep?  Too late to think!  Of what use was thought?—­beside her sat Ospakar, in one short hour she would be his.  Ah! that she could see him dead—­the troll who had trafficked her to shame, the foe she had summoned in her wrath and jealousy!  She had done ill—­she had fallen into Swanhild’s snare, and now Swanhild came to mock her!

The feast went on—­cup followed cup.  Now they poured the bride-cup!  Before her heart beat two hundred times she would be the wife of Ospakar!

Blacktooth took the cup—­pledged her in it, and drank deep.  Then he turned and strove to kiss her.  But Gudruda shrank from him with horror in her eyes, and all men wondered.  Still she must drink the bridal cup.  She took it.  Dimly she saw the upturned faces, faintly she heard the murmur of a hundred voices.

What was that voice she caught above them all—­there—­without the hall?

Holding the cup in her hand, Gudruda bent forward, staring down the skali.  Then she cried aloud, pointing to the door, and the cup fell clattering from her hand and rolled along the ground.

Men turned and looked.  They saw this:  there on the threshold stood a man, glorious to look at, and from his winged helm of gold the rays of light flashed through the dusky hall.  The man was great and beautiful to see.  He had long yellow hair bound in about his girdle, and in his left hand he held a pointed shield, in his right a spear, and at his thigh there hung a mighty sword.  Nor was he alone, for by his side, a broad axe on his shoulder and shield in hand, stood another man, clad in black-hued mail—­a man well-nigh as broad and big, with hawk’s eyes, eagle beak, and black hair streaked with grey.

For a moment there was silence.  Then a voice spoke: 

“Lo! here be the Gods Baldur and Thor!—­come from Valhalla to grace the marriage-feast!”

Then the man with golden hair cried aloud in a voice that made the rafters ring: 

“Here are Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail, his thrall, come from over sea to grace the feast, indeed!”

“I could have looked for no worse guests,” said Bjoern, beneath his breath, and rose to bid men thrust them out.  But before he could speak, lo! gold-helmed Eric and black-helmed Skallagrim were stalking up the length of that great hall.  Side by side they stalked, with faces fierce and cold; nor stayed they till they stood before the high seat.  Eric looked up and round, and the light of his eyes was as the light of a sword.  Men marvelled at his greatness and his wonderful beauty, and to Gudruda he seemed like a God.

“Here I see faces that are known to me,” said Eric.  “Greetings, comrades!”

“Greetings, Brighteyes!” shouted the Middalhof folk and the company of Swanhild; but the carles of Ospakar laid hand on sword—­they too knew Eric.  For still all men loved Eric, and the people of his quarter were proud of the deeds he had done oversea.