The first summer of his outlawry Eric warred along the coast of Ireland, but in the winter he came to Dublin, and for a while served in the body-guard of the king of that town, who held him in honour, and would have had him stay there.  But Eric would not bide there, and next spring, the Gudruda being ready for sea, he sailed for the shores of England.  There he gave battle to two vikings’ ships of war, and took them after a hard fight.  It was in this fight that Skallagrim Lambstail was wounded almost to death.  For when, having taken one ship, Eric boarded the other with but few men, he was driven back and fell over a beam, and would have been slain, had not Skallagrim thrown himself across his body, taking on his own back that blow of a battle-axe which was aimed at Eric’s head.  This was a great wound, for the axe shore through the steel of the byrnie and sank into the flesh.  But when Eric’s men saw their lord down, and Skallagrim, as they deemed, dead athwart him, they made so fierce a rush that the foemen fell before them like leaves before a winter gale, and the end of it was that the vikings prayed peace of Eric.  Skallagrim lay sick for many days, but he was hard to kill, and Eric nursed him back to life.  After this these two loved each other as brother loves twin brother, and they could scarcely bear to be apart.  But other people did not love Skallagrim, nor he them.

Eric sailed on up the Thames to London, bringing the viking ships with him, and he delivered their captains bound to Edmund, Edward’s son, the king who was called Edmund the Magnificent.  These captains the King hung, for they had wrought damage to his ships.

Eric found much favour with the King, and, indeed, his fame had gone before him.  So when he came into the court, bravely clad, with Skallagrim at his back, who was now almost recovered of his wound, the King called out to him to draw near, saying that he desired to look on the bravest viking and most beauteous man who sailed the seas, and on that fierce Baresark whom men called “Eric’s Death-shadow.”

So Eric came forward up the long hall that was adorned with things more splendid than ever his eyes had seen, and stood before the King.  With him came Skallagrim, driving the two captive viking chiefs before him with his axe, as a flesher drives lambs.  Now, during these many months Brighteyes had grown yet more great in girth and glorious to look on than he was before.  Moreover, his hair was now so long that it flowed like a flood of gold down towards his girdle, for since Gudruda trimmed it no shears had come near his head, and his locks grew fast as a woman’s.  The King looked at him and was astonished.

“Of a truth,” he said, “men have not lied about thee, Icelander, nor concerning that great wolf-hound of thine,” and he pointed at Skallagrim with his sword of state.  “Never saw I such a man;” and he bade all the mightiest men of his body-guard stand forward that he might measure them against Eric.  But Brighteyes was an inch taller than the tallest, and measured half a span more round the chest than the biggest.