“Was there ever such a man since Odin trod the earth?” And so it went on, till the serving-women laughed at the old man in love and the wit of her that mocked him.

Now upon a day, Eric having made an end of sowing his corn, bethought himself of his vow to go up alone against Skallagrim the Baresark in his den on Mosfell over by Hecla.  Now, this was a heavy task:  for Skallagrim was held so mighty among men that none went up against him any more; and at times Eric thought of Gudruda, and sighed, for it was likely that she would be a widow before she was made a wife.  Still, his oath must be fulfilled, and, moreover, of late Skallagrim having heard that a youngling named Eric Brighteyes had vowed to slay him single-handed, had made of a mock of him in this fashion.  For Skallagrim rode down to Coldback on Ran River and at night-time took a lamb from the fold.  Holding the lamb beneath his arm, he drew near to the house and smote thrice on the door with his battle-axe, and they were thundering knocks.  Then he leapt on to his horse and rode off a space and waited.  Presently Eric came out, but half clad, a shield in one hand and Whitefire in the other, and, looking, by the bright moonlight he saw a huge black-bearded man seated on a horse, having a great axe in one hand and the lamb beneath his arm.

“Who art thou?” roared Eric.

“I am called Skallagrim, youngling,” answered the man on the horse.  “Many men have seen me once, none have wished to see me twice, and some few have never seen aught again.  Now, it has been echoed in my ears that thou hast vowed a vow to go up Mosfell against Skallagrim the Baresark, and I am come hither to say that I will make thee right welcome.  See,” and with his axe he cut off the lamb’s tail on the pommel of his saddle:  “of the flesh of this lamb of thine I will brew broth and of his skin I will make me a vest.  Take thou this tail, and when thou fittest it on to the skin again, Skallagrim will own a lord,” and he hurled the tail towards him.

“Bide thou there till I can come to thee,” shouted Eric; “it will spare me a ride to Mosfell.”

“Nay, nay.  It is good for lads to take the mountain air,” and Skallagrim turned his horse away, laughing.

Eric watched Skallagrim vanish over the knoll, and then, though he was very angry, laughed also and went in.  But first he picked up the tail, and on the morrow he skinned it.

Now the time was come when the matter must be tried, and Eric bade farewell to Saevuna his mother, and Unna his cousin, and girt Whitefire round him and set upon his head a golden helm with wings on it.  Then he found the byrnie which his father Thorgrimur had stripped, together with the helm, from that Baresark who cut off his leg—­and this was a good piece, forged of the Welshmen—­and he put it on his breast, and taking a stout shield of bull’s hide studded with nails, rode away with one thrall, the strong carle named Jon.