“There are few guests to grace our marriage-feast, husband,” said Gudruda.

“Yet shall our vows hold true, wife,” said Eric.

“Ay, Brighteyes,” she answered, “in life and in death, now and for ever!” and they kissed.

“It is time for us to be going, methinks,” growled Skallagrim to those about him.  “We are not wanted here.”

Then the men who were to go on to the ship rose, fetched their horses, and rode away.  Also they caught the horses of Skallagrim, Eric, and Gudruda, saddled them and, slipping their bridles, made them fast in a shed in the yard, giving them hay to eat.  Afterwards Skallagrim barred the men’s door and the women’s door, and, going to Gudruda, asked where he should stay the night till it was time to ride for the sea.

“In the store-chamber,” she answered, “for there is a shutter of which the latch has gone.  See that thou watch it well, Skallagrim; though I think none will come to trouble thee.”

“I know the place.  It shall go badly with the head that looks through yonder hole,” said Skallagrim, glancing at his axe.

Now Gudruda forgot this, that in the store-chamber were casks of strong ale.

Then Gudruda told him to wake them when the morrow was two hours old, for Eric had neither eyes nor words except for Gudruda alone, and Skallagrim went.

The women went also to their shut bed at the end of the hall, leaving Brighteyes and Gudruda alone.  Eric looked at her.

“Where do I sleep to-night?” he asked.

“Thou sleepest with me, husband,” she answered soft, “for nothing, except Death, shall come between us any more.”

Now Skallagrim went to the store-room, and sat down with his back against a cask.  His heart was heavy in him, for he boded no good of this marriage.  Moreover, he was jealous.  Skallagrim loved but one thing in the world truly, and that was Eric Brighteyes, his lord.  Now he knew that henceforth he must take a second place, and that for one thought which Eric gave to him, he would give ten to Gudruda.  Therefore Skallagrim was very sad at heart.

“A pest upon the women!” he said to himself, “for from them comes all evil.  Brighteyes owes his ill luck to Swanhild and this fair wife of his, and that is scarcely done with yet.  Well, well, ’tis nature; but would that we were safe at sea!  Had I my will, we had not slept here to-night.  But they are newly wed, and—­well, ’tis nature!  Better the bride loves to lie abed than to ride the cold wolds and seek the common deck.”

Now, as Skallagrim grumbled, fear gathered in his heart, he knew not of what.  He began to think on trolls and goblins.  It was dark in the store-room, except for a little line of light that crept through the crack of the shutter.  At length he could bear the darkness and his thoughts no longer, but, rising, threw the shutter wide and let the bright moonlight pour into the chamber, whence he could see the hillside behind, and watch the shadows of the clouds as they floated across it.  Again Skallagrim sat down against his cask, and as he sat it moved, and he heard the wash of ale inside it.