“What wouldest thou of me, Icelander?” asked the King.

“This, lord,” said Eric:  “to serve thee a while, and all my men with me.”

“That is an offer that few would turn from,” answered the King.  “Thou shalt go into my body-guard, and, if I have my will, thou shalt be near me in battle, and thy wolf-dog also.”

Eric said that he asked no better, and thereafter he went up with Edmund the King to make war on the Danes of Mercia, and he and Skallagrim did great deeds before the eyes of the Englishmen.

That winter Eric and his company came back to London, and abode with the King in much state and honour.  Now, there was a certain lady of the court named Elfrida.  She was both fair and wealthy, the sweetest of women, and of royal blood by her mother’s side.  So soon as her eyes fell on Eric she loved him, and no one thing did she desire more than to be his wife.  But Brighteyes kept aloof from her, for he loved Gudruda alone; and so the winter wore away, and in the spring he went away warring, nor did he come back till autumn was at hand.

The Lady Elfrida sat at a window when Eric rode through London Town in the King’s following, and as he passed she threw him a wreath of flowers.  The King saw it and laughed.

“My cold kinswoman seems to melt before those bright eyes of thine, Icelander,” he said, “as my foes melt before Whitefire’s flame.  Well, I could wish her a worse mate,” and he looked on him strangely.

Eric bowed, but made no answer.

That night, as they sat at meat in the palace, the Lady Elfrida, being bidden in jest of Edmund the King to fill the cup of the bravest, passed down the board, and, before all men, poured wine into Eric’s cup, and, as she did so, welcomed him back with short sweet words.

Eric grew red as dawn, and thanked her graciously; but after the feast he spoke with Skallagrim, asking him of the Gudruda, and when she could be ready to take the sea.

“In ten days, lord,” said Skallagrim; “but stay we not here with the King this winter?  It is late to sail.”

“Nay,” said Eric, “we bide not here.  I would winter this year in Fareys, for they are the nighest place to Iceland that I may reach.  Next summer my three years of outlawry are over, and I would fare back homewards.”

“Now, I see the shadow of a woman’s hand,” said Skallagrim.  “It is very late to face the northern seas, and we may sail to Iceland from London in the spring.”

“It is my will that we should sail,” answered Eric.

“Past Orkneys runs the road to Fareys,” said Skallagrim, “and in Orkneys sits a hawk to whom the Lady Elfrida is but a dove.  In faring from ill we may hap on worse.”

“It is my will that we sail,” said Eric stubbornly.

“As thou wilt, and as the King wills,” answered Skallagrim.

On the morrow Eric went in before the King, and craved a boon.

“There is little that thou canst ask, Brighteyes,” said the King, “that I will not give thee, for, by my troth, I hold thee dear.”