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And ever as she whispered, the spoken words of the two in the shut bed grew fainter and more faint, till at length they died away, and a silence fell upon the place. "Thou hast no cause to fear the sword of Eric, Gizur," she said. "Nothing will wake him now till daylight comes." "Thou art awesome!" answered Gizur, for he shook with fear. "Look not on me with those flaming eyes, I pray thee!"
Terrible was the flare of Whitefire; but more terrible was the light of Eric's eyes, for they seemed to flame in his head, and wherever that fire fell it lighted men the way to death. Whitefire sung and flickered, and crashed the axe of Skallagrim, and still through the press of war they won their way. Now Gizur stands before them, spear aloft, and Whitefire leaps up to meet him.
Then she crept along the shadow of the wall, for she knew it every stone, till she came to the store-room, and lo! the shutter stood open, and through it the moonlight poured into the chamber. Swanhild lifted her head above the sill and looked, then started back. "Hush!" she said, "Skallagrim lies asleep within." "Pray the Gods he wake not!" said Gizur beneath his breath, and turned to go.
"How many, thinkest thou, walked over thee, drunkard, when thou didst lie yonder in the ale?" "I know not," groaned Skallagrim; "but I found this in the soft earth without: the print of a man's and a woman's feet; and this on the hill side: the track of two horses ridden hard." "Gizur and Swanhild, drunkard," said Eric. "Swanhild cast us into deep sleep by witchcraft, and Gizur dealt the blow.
Still, she fooled Gizur as she had fooled Atli the Good, and he grew blind with love of her. For still the beauty of Swanhild waxed as the moon waxes in the sky, and her wicked eyes shone as the stars shine when the moon has set. Now they came to Swinefell, and there Gizur buried Ospakar Blacktooth, his father, with much state.
Let us hence! ah! let us hence swiftly! Give me thy hand, Gizur, for I am faint!" So Gizur gives her his hand and they pass thence. Presently they stand in the store-room, and there lies Skallagrim, still plunged in his drunken sleep. "Must I do more murder?" asks Gizur hoarsely. "Nay," Swanhild says. "I am sick with blood. Leave the knave."
Let us stand here till they overwhelm us." Now those behind Gizur cried out to know what ailed them that they pushed back. "Only this," said Gizur, "that Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail stand like two grey wolves and hold the narrow way." "Now we shall have fighting worth the telling of," quoth Ketel the viking. "On, Gizur, Ospakar's son, and cut them down!"
But go and see Gizur the white and Geir the priest at once, and see if the offers of Gunnar do not seem good to them! For he is a just and gentle-hearted man, and perchance he will still hearken to you, if you accept them. So Otkell, who ever listened to the last speaker, bade, them bring out his horse and set forth, Skamkell walking by his side.
Now I tell thee this: either thou shalt go up against Eric and clear thyself by blows, or I leave thee; and methinks there are others among this company who will do the same, for we have no wish to be partners with murderers and their wickedness." "Ay, a good word!" said many who stood by. "Let Gizur go up with us to Mosfell, and there stand face to face with Eric and clear himself by blows."
Swanhild goes first of all, because she knows well that Eric will not harm her, and after her come Gizur and the others. But many do not come, for they will lift sword no more. Now Swanhild draws near and looks on Eric and mocks him in the fierceness of her heart and the rage of her wolf-love. "Now," she says, "now are Brighteyes dim eyes! What! weepest thou, Eric?"
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