“Nay, never!” cried Gudruda; “many years ago I lost the half thou gavest me, though I feared to tell thee.”

“Perchance one stands there who found it,” said Eric, pointing with his spear at Swanhild.  “At the least I was deceived by it.  Now the tale is short.  Swanhild mourned with me, and in my sorrow I mourned bitterly.  Then it was she asked a boon, that lock of mine, Gudruda, and, thinking thee faithless, I gave it, holding all oaths broken.  Then too, when I would have left her, she drugged me with a witch-draught—­ay, she drugged me, and I woke to find myself false to my oath, false to Atli, and false to thee, Gudruda.  I cursed her and I left her, waiting for the Earl, to tell him all.  But Swanhild outwitted me.  She told him that other tale of shame that ye have heard, and brought Koll to him as witness of the tale.  Atli was deceived by her, and not until I had cut him down in anger at the bitter words he spoke, calling me coward and niddering, did he know the truth.  But before he died he knew it; and he died, holding my hand and bidding those about him find Koll and slay him.  Is it not so, ye who were Atli’s men?”

“It is so, Eric!” they cried; “we heard it with our own ears, and we slew Koll.  But afterwards Swanhild brought is to believe that Earl Atli was distraught when he spoke thus, and that things were indeed as she had said.”

Again men murmured, and a strange light shone in Gudruda’s eyes.

“Now, Gudruda, thou hast heard all my story,” said Eric.  “Say, dost thou believe me?”

“I believe thee, Eric.”

“Say then, wilt thou still wed yon Ospakar?”

Gudruda looked on Blacktooth, then she looked at golden Eric and opened her lips to speak.  But before a word could pass them Ospakar rose in wrath, laying his hand upon his sword.

“Thinkest thou thus to lure away my dove, outlaw?  First I will see thee food for crows.”

“Well spoken, Blacktooth,” laughed Eric.  “I waited for such words from thee.  Thrice have we striven together—­once out yonder in the snow, once on Horse-Head Heights, and once by Westman Isles—­and still we live to tell the tale.  Come down, Ospakar:  come down from that soft seat of thine and here and now let us put it to the proof who is the better man.  When we met before, the stake was Whitefire set against my eye.  Now the stake is our lives and fair Gudruda’s hand.  Talk no more, Ospakar, but fall to it.”

“Gudruda shall never wed thee, while I live!” said Bjoern; “thou art a landless loon, a brawler, and an outlaw.  Get thee gone, Eric, with thy wolf-hound!”

“Squeak not so loud, rat—­squeak not so loud, lest hound’s fang worry thee!” said Skallagrim.

“Whether I wed Gudruda or whether I wed her not is a matter that shall be known in its season,” said Eric.  “For thy words, I say this:  that it is risky to hurl names at such as I am, Bjoern, lest perchance I answer them with spear-thrusts.  Thy answer, Ospakar!  What need to wait?  Thy answer!”