Gudruda sat alone in the haunted hall of Middalhof and brooded on her love and on her fate.  Eric, too, sat in Mosfell cave and brooded on his evil chance.  His heart was sick with sorrow, and there was little that he could do except think about the past.  He would not go to foray, after the fashion of outlaws, and there was no need of this.  For the talk of his mighty deeds spread through the land, so that the people spoke of little else.  And the men of his quarter were so proud of these deeds of Eric’s that, though some of their kind had fallen at his hands in the great fight of Middalhof and some at the hands of Skallagrim, yet they spoke of him as men speak of a God.  Moreover they brought him gifts of food and clothing and arms, as many as his people could carry away, and laid them in a booth that is on the plain near the foot of Mosfell, which thenceforth was named Ericsfell.  Further, they bade his thralls tell him that, if he wished it, they would find him a good ship of war to take him from Iceland—­ay, and man it with loyal men and true.

Eric thanked them through Jon his thrall, but answered that he wished to die here in Iceland.

Now, when Eric had sat two months and more in Mosfell cave and autumn was coming, he learned that Gizur and Swanhild had moved down to Coldback, and with them a great company of men who were sworn to slay him.  He asked if Gudruda the Fair had also gathered men for his slaying.  They told him no; that Gudruda stayed with her thralls and women at Middalhof, mourning for Bjoern her brother.  From these tidings Eric took some heart of hope:  at the least Gudruda laid no blood-feud against him.  For he waited, thinking, if indeed she yet loved him, that Gudruda would send him some word or token of her love.  But no word came, since between them ran the blood of Bjoern.  On the morrow of these tidings Skallagrim spoke to Eric.

“This is my counsel, lord,” he said, “that we ride out by night and fall on the folk of Gizur at Coldback, and burn the stead over them, putting them to the sword.  I am weary of sitting here like an eagle in a cage.”

“Such is no counsel of mine, Skallagrim,” answered Brighteyes.  “I am weary of sitting here, indeed; but I am yet more weary of bringing men to their death.  I will shed no more blood, unless it is to save my own head.  When the people of Gizur came to seek me on Mosfell, they shall find me here; but I will not go to them.”

“Thy heart is out of thee, lord,” said Skallagrim; “thou wast not wont to speak thus.”

“Ay, Skallagrim,” said Eric, “the heart is out of me.  Yet I ride from Mosfell to-day.”

“Whither, lord?”

“To Middalhof, to have speech with Gudruda the Fair.”

“Like enough, then, thou wilt be silent thereafter.”

“It well may be,” said Eric.  “Yet I will ride.  I can bear this doubt no longer.”

“Then I shall come with thee,” said Skallagrim.