Now swords flashed out, and men ringed round Eric to guard him, and it came near to the spilling of blood, for the people of Ospakar gnashed their teeth to see so great a hero overthrown by a youngling, while the southern folk of Middalhof and Ran River rejoiced loudly, for Eric was dear to their hearts.

“Down swords,” cried Asmund the priest, “and haul yon carcass from the snow.”

This then they did, and Ospakar sat up, breathing in great gasps, the blood running from his mouth and ears, and he was an evil sight to see, for what with blood and snow and rage his face was like the face of the Swinefell Goblin.

But Swanhild spoke in the ear of Gudruda: 

“Here,” she said, looking at Eric, “we two have a man worth loving, foster-sister.”

“Ay,” answered Gudruda, “worth and well worth!”

Now Asmund drew near and before all men kissed Eric Brighteyes on the brow.

“In sooth,” he said, “thou art a mighty man, Eric, and the glory of the south.  This I prophesy of thee:  that thou shalt do deeds such as have not been done in Iceland.  Thou hast ill been served, for a knave unknown greased thy shoes.  Yon swarthy Ospakar, the most mighty of all men in Iceland, could not overthrow thee, though, like a wolf, he fastened his fangs in thee, and, like a coward, stamped upon thy naked foot.  Take thou the great sword that thou hast won and wear it worthily.”

Now Eric took snow and wiped the blood from his brow.  Then he grasped Whitefire and drew it from the scabbard, and high aloft flashed the war-blade.  Thrice he wheeled it round his head, then sang aloud: 

     “Fast, yestermorn, down Golden Falls,
     Fared young Eric to thy feast,
     Asmund, father of Gudruda—­
     Maid whom much he longs to clasp. 
     But to-day on Giant Blacktooth
     Hath he done a needful deed: 
     Hurling him in heaped-up snowdrift;
     Winning Whitefire for his wage.”

And again he sang: 

     “Lord, if in very truth thou thinkest
     Brighteyes is a man midst men,
     Swear to him, the stalwart suitor,
     Handsel of thy sweet maid’s hand: 
     Whom, long loved, to win, down Goldfoss
     Swift he sped through frost and foam;
     Whom, to win, to troll-like Ogre,
     He, ’gainst Whitefire, waged his eye.”

Men thought this well sung, and turned to hear Asmund’s answer, nor must they wait long.

“Eric,” he said, “I will promise thee this, that if thou goest on as thou hast begun, I will give Gudruda in marriage to no other man.”

“That is good tidings, lord,” said Eric.

“This I say further:  in a year I will give thee full answer according as to how thou dost bear thyself between now and then, for this is no light gift thou askest; also that, if ye will it, you twain may now plight troth, for the blame shall be yours if it is broken, and not mine, and I give thee my hand on it.”