Then Skallagrim turned and went to clean his harness and the golden helm of Eric.

Now at Coldback Gizur spoke with Swanhild.

“Thou hast brought the greatest shame upon me,” he said, “for thou hast caused me to slay a sleeping woman.  Knowest thou that my own men will scarcely speak with me?  I have come to this evil pass, through love of thee, that I have slain a sleeping woman!”

“It was not my fault that thou didst kill Gudruda,” answered Swanhild; “surely I thought it was Eric whom thy sword pierced!  I have not sought thy love, Gizur, and I say this to thee:  go, if thou wilt, and leave me alone!”

Now Gizur looked at her, and was minded to go; but, as Swanhild knew well, she held him too fast in the net of her witcheries.

“I would go, if I might go!” answered Gizur; “but I am bound to thee for good or evil, since it is fated that I shall wed thee.”

“Thou wilt never wed me while Eric lives,” said Swanhild.

Now she spoke thus truthfully, and by chance, as it were, not as driving Gizur on to slay Eric—­for, now that Gudruda was dead, she was in two minds as to this matter, since, if she might, she still desired to take Eric to herself—­but meaning that while Eric lived she would wed no other man.  But Gizur took it otherwise.

“Eric shall certainly die if I may bring it about,” he answered, and went to speak with his men.

Now all were gathered in the yard at Coldback, and that was a great company.  But their looks were heavy because of the shame that Gizur, Ospakar’s son, had brought upon them by the murder of Gudruda in her sleep.

“Hearken, comrades!” said Gizur:  “great shame is come upon me because of a deed that I have done unwittingly, for I aimed at the eagle Eric and I have slain the swan Gudruda.”

Then a certain old viking in the company, named Ketel, whom Gizur had hired for the slaying of Eric, spoke: 

“Man or woman, it is a niddering deed to kill folk in their sleep, Gizur!  It is murder, and no less, and small luck can be hoped for from the stroke.”

Now Gizur felt that his people looked on him askance and heavily, and knew that it would be hard to show them that he was driven to this deed against his will, and by the witchcraft of Swanhild.  So, as was his nature, he turned to guile for shelter, like a fox to his hole, and spoke to them with the tongue of a lawman; for Gizur had great skill in speech.

“That tale was not all true which Eric Brighteyes told you,” he said.  “He was mad with grief, and moreover it seems that he slept, and only woke to find Gudruda dead.  It came about thus:  I stood with the lady Swanhild, and was about to call aloud on Eric to arm himself and come forth and meet me face to face——­”

“Then, lord, methinks thou hadst never met another foe,” quoth the viking Ketel who had spoken first.

“When of a sudden,” went on Gizur, taking no note of Ketel’s words, “one clothed in white sprang from the bed and rushed on me.  Then I, thinking that it was Eric, lifted sword, not to smite, but to ward him away; but the linen-wearer met the sword and fell down dead.  Then I fled, fearing lest men should wake and trap us, and that is all the tale.  It was no fault of mine if Gudruda died upon the sword.”