“It is not for me to kill thee, drunkard!  Go, die in thy drink!”

“Then I will kill myself!” cried the Baresark, and, rushing across the hall he tore the great axe from its bed.

“Hold!” said Eric; “perhaps there is yet a deed for thee to do.  Then thou mayest die, if it pleases thee.”

“Ay,” said Skallagrim coming back, “perchance there is still a deed to do!”

And, flinging down the axe, Skallagrim Lambstail the Baresark fell upon the floor and wept.

But Eric did not weep.  Only he drew Whitefire from the heart of Gudruda and looked at it.

“Thou art a strange sword, Whitefire,” he said, “who slayest both friend and foe!  Shame on thee, Whitefire!  We swore our oath on thee, Whitefire, and thou hast cut its chain!  Now I am minded to shatter thee.”  And as Eric looked on the great blade, lo! it hummed strangely in answer.

“‘First must thou be the death of some,’ thou sayest?  Well, maybe, Whitefire!  But never yet didst thou drink so sweet a life as hers who now lies dead, nor ever shalt again.”

Then he sheathed the sword, but neither then nor afterwards did he wipe the blood of Gudruda from its blade.

“Last night a-marrying—­to-day a-burying,” said Eric, and he called to the women to bring spades.  Then, having clothed himself, he went to the centre of the hall, and, brushing away the sand, broke the hard clay-flooring, dealing great blows on it with an axe.  Now Skallagrim, seeing his purpose, came to him and took one of the spades, and together they laboured in silence till they had dug a grave a fathom deep.

“Here,” said Eric, “here, in thine own hall where thou wast born and lived, Gudruda the Fair, thou shalt sleep at the last.  And of Middalhof I say this:  that none shall live there henceforth.  It shall be haunted and accursed till the rafters rot and the walls fall in, making thy barrow, Gudruda.”

Now this indeed came to pass, for none have lived in Middalhof since the days of Gudruda the Fair, Asmund’s daughter.  It has been ruined these many years, and now it is but a pile of stones.

When the grave was dug, Eric washed himself and ate some food.  Then he went in to where Gudruda lay dead, and bade the women make her ready for burial.  This they did.  When she was washed and clad in a clean white robe, Eric came to her, and with his own hand bound the Hell-shoes on her feet and closed her eyes.

It was just then that a man came who said that the people of Gizur and of Swanhild had burned Gudruda’s ship, driving the crew ashore.

“It is well,” said Eric.  “We need the ship no more; now hath she whom it should bear wings with which to fly.”  Then he went in and sat down on the bed by the body of Gudruda, while Skallagrim crouched on the ground without, tearing at his beard and muttering.  For the fierce heart of Skallagrim was broken because of that evil which his drunkenness had brought about.