“Perchance!” he said, speaking heavily.

“Eric!—­wake, Eric!  Thou canst not move?  Yet hearken to me—­ah! this weight of sleep!  Thou lovest me, Eric!—­is it not so?”

“Yea,” he answered.

“Now and for ever thou lovest me—­and wilt cleave to me always wherever we go?”

“Surely, sweet.  Oh, sweet, farewell!” he said, and his voice sounded like the voice of one who speaks across the water.

“Farewell, Eric Brighteyes!—­my love—­my love, farewell!” she answered very slowly, and together they sank into a sleep that was heavy as death.

Now Gizur, Ospakar’s son, and Swanhild, Atli’s widow, rode fast and hard from Mosfell, giving no rest to their horses, and with them rode that thrall who had showed the secret path to Gizur.  They stayed a while on Horse-Head Heights till the moon rose.  Now one path led hence to the shore that is against the Westmans, where Gudruda’s ship lay bound.  Then Swanhild turned to the thrall.  Her beautiful face was fierce and she had said few words all this while, but in her heart raged a fire of hate and jealousy which shone through her blue eyes.

“Listen,” she said to the thrall.  “Thou shalt ride hence to the bay where the ship of Gudruda the Fair lies at anchor.  Thou knowest where our folk are in hiding.  Thou shalt speak thus to them.  Before it is dawn they must take boats and board Gudruda’s ship and search her.  And, if they find Eric, the outlaw, aboard, they shall slay him, if they may.”

“That will be no easy task,” said the thrall.

“And if they find Gudruda they shall keep her prisoner.  But if they find neither the one nor the other, they shall do this:  they shall drive the crew ashore, killing as few as may be, and burn the ship.”

“It is an ill deed thus to burn another’s ship,” said Gizur.

“Good or ill, it shall be done,” answered Swanhild fiercely.  “Thou art a lawman, and well canst thou meet the suit; moreover Gudruda has wedded an outlaw and shall suffer for her sin.  Now go, and see thou tarry not, or thy back shall pay the price.”

The man rode away swiftly.  Then Gizur turned to Swanhild, asking:  “Whither, then, go we?”

“I have said to Middalhof.”

“That is into the wolf’s den, if Eric and Skallagrim are there,” he answered:  “I have little chance against the two of them.”

“Nay, nor against the one, Gizur.  Why, if Eric’s right hand were hewn from him, and he stood unarmed, he would still slay thee with his left, as, swordless, he slew Ospakar thy father.  Yet I shall find a way to come at him, if he is there.”

Then they rode on, and Gizur’s heart was heavy for fear of Eric and Skallagrim the Baresark.  So fiercely did they ride that, within one hour after midnight, they were at the stead of Middalhof.

“We will leave the horses here in the field,” said Swanhild.

So they leaped to earth and, tying the reins of the horses together, left them to feed on the growing grass.  Then they crept into the yard and listened.  Presently there came a sound of horses stamping in the far corner of the yard.  They went thither, and there they found a horse and two geldings saddled, but with the bits slipped, and on the horse was such a saddle as women use.