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"What hast thou to do with Eric?" snarled Ospakar. "The bride-cup is not yet drunk, lord," she answered. "To thee, then, I will speak, lady," quoth Eric. "How comes it that, being betrothed to me, thou dost sit there the bride of Ospakar?" "Ask of Swanhild," said Gudruda in a low voice. "Ask also of Hall of Lithdale yonder, who brought me Swanhild's gift from Straumey."
Koll stooped, found the gold and went, leaving Brighteyes and Swanhild face to face. He hid his brow in his arms and groaned aloud. Softly Swanhild crept up to him softly she drew his hands away, holding them between her own. "Heavy tidings, Eric," she said, "heavy tidings for thee and me! She is a murderess who gave me birth and she has slain my own father my father and thy cousin Unna also.
Now Swanhild covered her eyes with her hands and shook the long hair about her face, and she seemed wondrous fair to Asmund the Priest who watched.
Space yawns beneath her, the waters roar in her ears, the red sky glows above. She sees Swanhild come and shrieks aloud. Eric is there, though Swanhild hears him not, for the sound of his horse's galloping feet is lost in the roar of waters. But that cry comes to his ears, he sees the poised rock, and all grows clear to him.
She is shameless, who still holds commune with him who slew her brother and my husband. Death should be her reward, and I am minded to slay her because of the shame that she has brought upon our blood." "That is a deed which thou wilt do alone, then," said Gizur, "for I will have no hand in the murder of that fair maid no, nor will any who live in Iceland!" Swanhild glanced at him strangely.
Skallagrim looked, then spoke: "Now here, it seems, is witchwork. Say, lord, hast thou ever seen mist travel against wind as it travels now?" "Never before," said Eric, and as he spoke the light of the moon went out. Swanhild, Atli's wife, sat in beauty in her bower on Straumey Isle and looked with wide eyes towards the sea. It was midnight.
She stretched out her arms towards him whom but an hour gone she had thought dead, but who had lived to come back to her with honour, and blessed his beloved name, and laughed aloud in her joyousness of heart, calling: "Eric! Eric!" But Swanhild, creeping behind her, did not laugh. She heard Gudruda's voice and guessed Gudruda's gladness, and jealousy arose within her and rent her.
For she did not know that it was otherwise fated. Gudruda, too, saw all these things and knew not how to read them, for she was of an honest mind, and could not understand how a woman may love a man as Swanhild loved Eric and yet make such play with other men, and that of her free will.
Ever does she hide like a rat in the thatch, and as for the wolf, he must be her Familiar; for, like Groa, her mother, Swanhild plays much with witchcraft. Now I will away back to Gudruda, for my heart misdoubts me of this matter. Stay thou here till I come, Lambstail!" And Eric turns and gallops back to the head of Goldfoss.
But Swanhild shall triumph over thy daughter Gudruda, and this man, and the two of them, shall die at her hands, and, for the rest, who can say? But this is true that the mighty man shall bring all thy race to an end. See now, I have read thy rede." Then Asmund was very wroth. "Thou wast wise to beguile me to name thy bastard brat," he said; "else had I been its death within this hour."
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