“Thou art much foam and little water,” said Eric.  “These things are easily put to proof.  If thou willest it, to-morrow I will come with thee to a holmgang, and there we may set the twigs and finish what we have begun to-day.”

“I cannot do that, for thou hast my sword; and, till I am suited with another weapon, I may fight no holmgang.  Still, fear not:  we shall soon meet with weapons aloft and byrnie on breast.”

“Never too soon can the hour come, Blacktooth,” said Eric, and turning on his heel, he limped to the hall to clothe himself afresh.  On the threshold of the men’s door he met Groa the Witch.

“Thou didst put grease upon my shoes, carline and witch-hag that thou art,” he said.

“It is not true, Brighteyes.”

“There thou liest, and for all this I will repay thee.  Thou art not yet the wife of Asmund, nor shalt be, for a plan comes into my head about it.”

Groa looked at him strangely.  “If thou speakest so, take heed to thy meat and drink,” she said.  “I was not born among the Finns for nothing; and know, I am still minded to wed Asmund.  For thy shoes, I would to the Gods that they were Hell-shoon, and that I was now binding them on thy dead feet.”

“Oh! the cat begins to spit,” said Eric.  “But know this:  thou mayest grease my shoes—­fit work for a carline!—­but thou mayest never bind them on.  Thou art a witch, and wilt come to the end of witches; and what thy daughter is, that I will not say,” and he pushed past her and entered the hall.

Presently Asmund came to seek Eric there, and prayed him to be gone to his stead on Ran River.  The horses of Ospakar had strayed, and he must stop at Middalhof till they were found; but, if these two should abide under the same roof, bloodshed would come of it, and that Asmund knew.

Eric said yea to this, and, when he had rested a while, he kissed Gudruda, and, taking a horse, rode away to Coldback, bearing the sword Whitefire with him, and for a time he saw no more of Ospakar.

When he came there, his mother Saevuna greeted him as one risen from the dead, and hung about his neck.  Then he told her all that had come to pass, and she thought it a marvellous story, and sorrowed that Thorgrimur, her husband, was not alive to know it.  But Eric mused a while, and spoke.

“Mother,” he said, “now my uncle Thorod of Greenfell is dead, and his daughter, my cousin Unna, has no home.  She is a fair woman and skilled in all things.  It comes into my mind that we should bid her here to dwell with us.”

“Why, I thought thou wast betrothed to Gudruda the Fair,” said Saevuna.  “Wherefore, then, wouldst thou bring Unna hither?”

“For this cause,” said Eric; “because it seems that Asmund the Priest wearies of Groa the Witch, and would take another wife, and I wish to draw the bands between us tighter, if it may befall so.”

“Groa will take it ill,” said Saevuna.