Now as he spoke the headless man turned his neck as though to look.  Once more there came the sound of feet and lo! men marched in from the darkness on either side.  Eric and Skallagrim looked up and knew them.  They were those of Ospakar’s folk whom they had slain on Horse-Head Heights; all their wounds were on them and in front of them marched Mord, Ospakar’s son.  The ghosts gazed upon Eric and Skallagrim with cold dead eyes, then they too sat down by the fire.  Now once more there came the sound of feet, and from every side men poured in who had died at the hands of Eric and Skallagrim.  First came those who fell on that ship of Ospakar’s which Eric sank by Westmans; then the crew of the Raven who had perished upon the sea-path.  Even as the man died, so did each ghost come.  Some had been drowned and their harness dripped water!  Some had died of spear-thrusts and the spears were yet fixed in their breasts!  Some had fallen beneath the flash of Whitefire and the weight of the axe of Skallagrim, and there they sat, looking on their wide wounds!

Then came more and more.  There were those whom Eric and Skallagrim had slain upon the seas, those who had fallen before them in the English wars, and all that company who had been drowned in the waters of the Pentland Firth when the witchcraft of Swanhild had brought the Gudruda to her wreck.

“Now here we have a goodly crew,” said Eric at length.  “Is it done, thinkest thou, or will Mosfell send forth more dead?”

As he spoke the wraith of a grey-headed man drew near.  He had but one arm, for the other was hewn from him, and the byrnie on his left side was red with blood.

“Welcome, Earl Atli!” cried Eric.  “Sit thou over against me, who to-morrow shall be with thee.”

The ghost of the Earl seated itself and looked on Eric with sad eyes, but it spake never a word.

Then came another company, and at their head stalked black Ospakar.

“These be they who died at Middalhof,” cried Eric.  “Welcome, Ospakar! that marriage-feast of thine went ill!”

“Now methinks we are overdone with trolls,” said Skallagrim; “but see! here come more.”

As he spoke, Hall of Lithdale came, and with him Koll the Half-witted, and others.  And so it went on till all the men whom Eric and Skallagrim had slain, or who had died because of them, or at their side, were gathered in deep ranks before them.

“Now it is surely done,” said Eric.

“There is yet a space,” said Skallagrim, pointing to the other side of the fire, “and Hell holds many dead.”

Even as the words left his lips there came a noise of the galloping of horse’s hoofs, and one clad in white rode up.  It was a woman, for her golden hair flowed down about her white arms.  Then she slid from the horse and stood in the light of the fire, and behold! her white robe was red with blood, a great sword was set in her heart, and the face and eyes were the face and eyes of Gudruda the Fair, and the horse she rode was Blackmane, that Eric had slain.