“I am not so sure of this matter, nor do I altogether trust thee, Groa.  Of a truth it seems to me that thou hast some stake upon the race.  This Ospakar is evil and hideous.  It were a shame to give Gudruda over to him when she looks elsewhere.  Knowest thou that I swore to love and cherish her, and how runs this with my oath?  If Eric is not too rich, yet he is of good birth and kin, and, moreover, a man of men.  If he take her good will come of it.”

“It is like thee, Asmund, always to mistrust those who spend their days in plotting for thy weal.  Do as thou wilt:  let Eric take this treasure of thine—­for whom earls would give their state—­and live to rue it.  But I say this:  if he have thy leave to roam here with his dove the matter will soon grow, for these two sicken each to each, and young blood is hot and ill at waiting, and it is not always snow-time.  So betroth her or let him go.  And now I have said.”

“Thy tongue runs too fast.  The man is quite unproved and I will try him.  To-morrow I will warn him from my door; then things shall go as they are fated.  And now peace, for I weary of thy talk, and, moreover, it is false; for thou lackest one thing—­a little honesty to season all thy craft.  What fee has Ospakar paid thee, I wonder.  Thou at least hadst never refused the gold ring to-night, for thou wouldst do much for gold.”

“And more for love, and most of all for hate,” Groa said, and laughed aloud; nor did they speak more on this matter that night.

Now, early in the morning Asmund rose, and, going to the hall, awoke Eric, who slept by the centre hearth, saying that he would talk with him without.  Then Eric followed him to the back of the hall.

“Say now, Eric,” he said, when they stood in the grey light outside the house, “who was it taught thee that kisses keep out the cold on snowy days?”

Now Eric reddened to his yellow hair, but he answered:  “Who was it told thee, lord, that I tried this medicine?”

“The snow hides much, but there are eyes that can pierce the snow.  Nay, more, thou wast seen, and there’s an end.  Now know this—­I like thee well, but Gudruda is not for thee; she is far above thee, who art but a deedless yeoman.”

“Then I love to no end,” said Eric; “I long for one thing only, and that is Gudruda.  It was in my mind to ask her in marriage of thee to-day.”

“Then, lad, thou hast thy answer before thou askest.  Be sure of one thing:  if but once again I find thee alone with Gudruda, it is my axe shall kiss thee and not her lips.”

“That may yet be put to the proof, lord,” said Eric, and turned to seek his horse, when suddenly Gudruda came and stood between them, and his heart leapt at the sight of her.

“Listen, Gudruda,” Eric said.  “This is thy father’s word:  that we two speak together no more.”

“Then it is an ill saying for us,” said Gudruda, laying her hand upon her breast.