“Gizur and Swanhild, drunkard,” said Eric.  “Swanhild cast us into deep sleep by witchcraft, and Gizur dealt the blow.  Better for him that he had never been born than that he has lived to deal that coward’s blow!”

Then they rode on, and when midnight was a little while gone they came to the stead at Coldback.  Now this house was roofed with turves, and the windows were barred so that none could pass through them.  Also in the yard were faggots of birch and a stack of hay.

Eric and Skallagrim tied their horses in a dell that is to the north of the stead and crept up to the house.  All was still; but a fire burnt in the hall, and, looking through a crack, Eric could see many men sleeping about it.  Then he made signs to Skallagrim and together, very silently, they fetched hay and faggots, piling them against the north door of the house, for the wind blew from the north.  Now Eric spoke to Skallagrim, bidding him stand, axe in hand, by the south door, and slay those who came out when the reek began to smart them:  but he went himself to fire the pile.

When Brighteyes had made all things ready for the burning, it came into his mind that, perhaps, Gizur and Swanhild were not in the house.  But he would not hold his hand for this, for he was mad with grief and rage.  So once more he prepared for the deed, when again he heard a voice in his ear—­the voice of Gudruda, and it seemed to say: 

“Thine oath, Eric! remember thine oath!”

Then he turned and the rage went out of his heart.

“Let them seek me on Mosfell,” he said, “I will not slay them secretly and by reek, the innocent and the guilty together.”  And he strode round the house to where Skallagrim stood at the south door, axe aloft and watching.

“Does the fire burn, lord?  I see no smoke,” whispered Skallagrim.

“Nay, I have made none.  I will shed no more blood, except to save my life.  I leave vengeance to the Norns.”

Now Skallagrim thought that Brighteyes was mad, but he dared say nothing.  So they went to their horses, and when they found them, Eric rode back to the house.  Presently they drew near, and Eric told Skallagrim to stay where he was, and riding on to the house, smote heavy blows upon the door, just as Skallagrim once had smitten, before Eric went up to Mosfell.

Now Swanhild lay in her shut bed; but she could not sleep, because of what she saw in the eyes of Gudruda.  Little may she ever sleep again, for when she shuts her eyes once more she sees that which was written in the dead eyes of Gudruda.  So, as she lay, she heard the blows upon the door, and sprang frightened from her bed.  Now there was tumult in the hall, for every man rose to his feet in fear, searching for his weapons.  Again the loud knocks came.

“It is the ghost of Eric!” cried one, for Gizur had given out that Eric was dead at his hand in fair fight.

“Open!” said Gizur, and they opened, and there, a little way from the door, sat Brighteyes on a horse, great and shadowy to see, and behind him was Skallagrim the Baresark.