“What news, lord?” said Skallagrim.  “Thou wast gone so long that I thought of seeking thee.  Hast thou seen Gudruda?”

“Ay,” said Eric, “and this is the upshot of it, that in the spring we sail for England and bid farewell to Iceland and our ill luck.”

“Would, then, that it were spring,” said Skallagrim, speaking Brighteyes’ own words.  “Why not sail now and make an end?”

“Gudruda has no ship and it is late to take the sea.  Also I think that she would let a time go by because of the blood-feud which she has against me for the death of Bjoern.”

“I would rather risk these things than stay the winter through in Iceland,” said Skallagrim, “it is long from now to spring, and yon wolf’s den is cold-lying in the dark months, as I know well.”

“There is light beyond the darkness,” said Eric, and they rode away.  Everything went well with them till late at night they came to the slopes of Mosfell.  They were half asleep on their horses, being weary with much riding, and the horses were weary also.  Suddenly, Skallagrim, looking up, caught the faint gleam of light from swords hidden behind some stones.

“Awake, lord!” he cried, “here are foes ahead.”

Gizur’s folk behind the stones heard his voice and came out from their ambush.  There were six of them, and they formed in line before the pair.  They were watching the mountain, for a rumour had reached them that Eric was abroad, and, seeing him, they had hidden hastily behind the stones.

“Now what counsel shall we take?” said Eric, drawing Whitefire.

“We have often stood against men more than six, and sometimes we have left more men than six to mark where we stood,” answered Skallagrim.  “It is my counsel that we ride at them!”

“So be it,” said Eric, and he spurred his weary horse with his heels.  Now when the six saw Eric and Skallagrim charge on them boldly, they wavered, and the end of it was that they broke and fled to either side before a blow was struck.  For it had come to this pass, so great was the terror of the names of Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail, that no six men dared to stand before them in open fight.

So the path being clear they rode on up the slope.  But when they had gone a little way, Skallagrim turned his horse, and mocked those who had lain in ambush, saying: 

“Ye fight well, ye carles of Gizur, Ospakar’s son!  Ye are heroes, surely!  Say now, mighty men, will ye stand there if I come down alone against you?”

At these words the men grew mad with wrath, and flung their spears.  Skallagrim caught one on his shield and it fell to the earth, but another passed over his head and struck Eric on the left shoulder, near the neck, making a deep wound.  Feeling the spear fast in him, Eric grasped it with his right hand, drew it forth, and turning, hurled it so hard, that the man before it got his death from the blow, for his shield did not serve to stay it.  Then the rest fled.