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_ Presently as Eric walked he met Atli the Earl seeking him. Atli
greeted him.
"I have seen strange things, Eric," he said, "but none more strange
than this coming of thine and the manner of it. Swanhild is
foresighted, and that was a doom-dream of hers."
"I think her foresighted also," said Eric. "And now, Earl, knowest
thou this: that little good can come to thee at the hands of one whom
thou hast saved from the sea."
"I set no faith in such old wives' tales," answered Atli. "Here thou
art come, and it is my will that thou shouldest sit here. At the
least, I will give thee no help to go hence."
"Then we must bide in Straumey, it seems," said Eric: "for of all my
goods and gear this alone is left me," and he looked at Whitefire.
"Thou hast still a gold ring or two upon thy arm," answered the Earl,
laughing. "But surely, Eric, thou wouldst not begone?"
"I know not, Earl. Listen: it is well that I should be plain with
thee. Once, before thou didst wed Swanhild, she had another mind."
"I have heard something of that, and I have guessed more, Brighteyes;
but methinks Swanhild is little given to gadding now. She is as cold
as ice, and no good wife for any man," and Atli sighed, "'Snow melts
not if sun shines not,' so runs the saw. Thou art an honest man, Eric,
and no whisperer in the ears of others' wives."
"I am not minded indeed to do thee such harm, Earl, but this thou
knowest: that woman's guile and beauty are swords few shields can
brook. Now I have spoken--and they are hard words to speak--be it as
thou wilt."
"It is my will that thou shouldest sit here this winter, Eric. Had I
my way, indeed, never wouldest thou sit elsewhere. Listen: things have
not gone well with me of late. Age hath a grip of me, and foes rise up
against one who has no sons. That was an ill marriage, too, which I
made with Swanhild yonder: for she loves me not, and I have found no
luck since first I saw her face. Moreover, it is in my mind that my
days are almost sped. Swanhild has already foretold my death, and, as
thou knowest well, she is foresighted. So I pray thee, Eric, bide thou
here while thou mayest, for I would have thee at my side."
"It shall be as thou wilt, Earl," said Eric.
So Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail sat that winter in the
hall of Atli the Earl at Straumey. For many weeks all things went well
and Eric forgot his fears. Swanhild was gentle to him and kindly. She
loved much to talk with him, even of Gudruda her rival; but no word of
love passed her lips. Nevertheless, she did but bide her time, for
when she struck she determined to strike home. Atli and Eric were ever
side by side, and Eric gave the Earl much good counsel. He promised to
do this also, for now, being simple-minded, his doubts had passed and
he had no more fear of Swanhild. On the mainland lived a certain chief
who had seized large lands of Atli's, and held them for a year or
more. Now Eric gave his word that, before he sailed for Iceland in the
early summer, he would go up against this man and drive him from the
lands, if he could. For Brighteyes might not come to Iceland till hard
upon midsummer, when his three years of outlawry were spent.
The winter wore away and the spring came. Then Atli gathered his men
and went with Eric in boats to where the chief dwelt who held his
lands. There they fell on him and there was a fierce fight. But in the
end the man was slain by Skallagrim, and Eric did great deeds, as was
his wont. Now in this fray Eric was wounded in the foot by a spear, so
that he must be borne back to Straumey, and he lay there in the hall
for many days. Swanhild nursed him, and most days he sat talking with
her in her bower.
When Eric was nearly healed of his hurt, the Earl went with all his
people to a certain island of the Orkneys to gather scat[*] that was
unpaid, and Skallagrim went with him. But Eric did not go, because of
his hurt, fearing lest the wound should open if he walked overmuch.
Thus it came to pass that, except for some women, he was left almost
alone with Swanhild.
[*] Tribute.
Now, when Atli had been gone three days, it chanced on an afternoon
that Swanhild heard how a man from Iceland sought speech with her. She
bade them bring him in to where she was alone in her bower, for Eric
was not there, having gone down to the sea to fish.
The man came and she knew him at once for Koll the Half-witted, who
had been her mother Groa's thrall. On his shoulders was the cloak that
Ospakar Blacktooth had given him; it was much torn now, and he had a
worn and hungry look.
"Whence comest thou, Koll?" she asked, "and what are thy tidings?"
"From Scotland last, lady, where I sat this winter; before that, from
Iceland. As for my tidings, they are heavy, if thou hast not heard
them. Asmund the Priest is dead, and dead is Unna his wife, poisoned
by thy mother, Groa, at their marriage-feast. Dead, too, is thy
mother, Groa. Björn, Asmund's son, shot her with an arrow, and she
lies in Goldfoss pool."
Now Swanhild hid her face for a while in her hands. Then she lifted it
and it was white to see. "Speakest thou truth, fox? If thou liest,
this I swear to thee--thy tongue shall be dragged from thee by the
roots!"
"I speak the truth, lady," he answered. But still he spoke not all the
truth, for he said nothing of the part which he had played in the
deaths of Asmund and Unna. Then he told her of the manner of their
end.
Swanhild listened silently--then said:
"What news of Gudruda, Asmund's daughter? Is she wed?"
"Nay, lady. Folk spoke of her and Ospakar, that was all."
"Hearken, Koll," said Swanhild, "bearing such heavy tidings, canst
thou not weight the ship a little more? Eric Brighteyes is here. Canst
thou not swear to him that, when thou didst leave Iceland it was said
without question that Gudruda had betrothed herself to Ospakar, and
that the wedding-feast was set for this last Yule? Thou hast a hungry
look, Koll, and methinks that things have not gone altogether well
with thee of late. Now, if thou canst so charge thy memory, thou shalt
lose little by it. But, if thou canst not, then thou goest hence from
Straumey with never a luck-penny in thy purse, and never a sup to stay
thy stomach with."
Now of all things Koll least desired to be sent from Straumey; for,
though Swanhild did not know it, he was sought for on the mainland as
a thief.
"That I may do, lady," he said, looking at her cunningly. "Now I
remember that Gudruda the Fair charged me with a certain message for
Eric Brighteyes, if I should chance to see him as I journeyed."
Then Swanhild, Atli's wife, and Koll the Half-witted talked long and
earnestly together.
At nightfall Eric came in from his fishing. His heart was light, for
the time drew near when he should sail for home, and he did not think
on evil. For now he feared Swanhild no longer, and, no fresh tidings
having come from Iceland about Ospakar and Gudruda, he had almost put
the matter from his mind. On he walked to the hall, limping somewhat
from his wound, but singing as he came, and bearing his fish slung
upon a pole.
At the men's door of the hall a woman stood waiting. She told Eric
that the lady Swanhild would speak with him in her bower. Thither he
went and knocked. Getting no answer he knocked again, then entered.
Swanhild sat on a couch. She was weeping, and her hair fell about her
face.
"What now, Swanhild?" he said.
She looked up heavily. "Ill news for thee and me, Eric. Koll, who was
my mother's thrall, has come hither from Iceland, and these are his
tidings: that Asmund is dead, and Unna, thy cousin, Thorod of
Greenfell's daughter, is dead, and my mother Groa is dead also."
"Heavy tidings, truly!" said Eric; "and what of Gudruda, is she also
dead?"
"Nay, Eric she is wed--wed to Ospakar."
Now Eric reeled against the wall, clutching it, and for a space all
things swam round him. "Where is this Koll?" he gasped. "Send me Koll
hither."
Presently he came, and Eric questioned him coldly and calmly. But Koll
could lie full well. It is said that in his day there was no one in
Iceland who could lie so well as Koll the Half-witted. He told Eric
how it was said that Gudruda was plighted to Ospakar, and how the
match had been agreed on at the Althing in the summer that was gone
(and indeed there had been some such talk), and how that the feast was
to be at Middalhof on last Yule Day.
"Is that all thy tidings?" said Eric. "If so, I give no heed to them:
for ever, Koll, I have known thee for a liar!"
"Nay, Eric, it is not all," answered Koll. "As it chanced, two days
before the ship in which I sailed was bound, I saw Gudruda the Fair.
Then she asked me whither I was going, and I told her that I would
journey to London, where men said thou wert, and asked her if she
would send a message. Then she alighted from her horse, Blackmane, and
spoke with me apart. 'Koll,' she said, 'it well may happen that thou
wilt see Eric Brighteyes in London town. Now, if thou seest him, I
charge thee straightly tell him this. Tell him that my father is dead,
and my brother Björn, who rules in his place, is a hard man, and has
ever urged me on to wed Ospakar, till at last, having no choice, I
have consented to it. And say to Eric that I grieve much and sorely,
and that, though we twain should never meet more, yet I shall always
hold his memory dear.'"
"It is not like Gudruda to speak thus," said Eric: "she had ever a
stout heart and these are craven words. Koll, I hold that thou liest;
and, if indeed I find it so, I'll wring the head from off thee!"
"Nay, Eric, I lie not. Wherefore should I lie? Hearken: thou hast not
heard all my tale. When the lady Gudruda had made an end of speaking
she drew something from her breast and gave it me, saying: 'Give this
to Eric, in witness of my words.'"
"Show me the token," said Eric.
Now, many years ago, when they were yet boy and girl, it chanced that
Eric had given to Gudruda the half of an ancient gold piece that he
had found upon the shore. He had given her half, and half he had kept,
wearing it next his heart. But he knew not this, for she feared to
tell him, that Gudruda had lost her half. Nor indeed had she lost it,
for Swanhild had taken the love-token and hidden it away. Now she
brought it forth for Koll to build his lies upon.
Then Koll drew out the half-piece from a leather purse and passed it
to him. Eric plunged his hand into his breast and found his half. He
placed the two side by side, while Swanhild watched him. Lo! they
fitted well.
Then Eric laughed aloud, a hard and bitter laugh. "There will be
slaying," he cried, "before all this tale is told. Take thy fee and
begone, thou messenger of ill," and he cast the broken piece at Koll.
"For once thou hast spoken the truth."
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. Gudruda is a traitress, a traitress
fair and false. I did ill to be born of such a woman; thou didst ill
to put thy faith in such a woman. Together let us weep, for our woe is
equal."
"Ay, let us weep together," Eric answered. "Nay, why should we weep?
Together let us be merry, for we know the worst. All words are said--
all hopes are sped! Let us be merry, then, for now we have no more
tidings to fear."
"Ay," Swanhild answered, looking on him darkly, "we will be merry and
laugh our sorrows down. Ah! thou foolish Eric, under what unlucky star
wast thou born that thou knewest not true from false?" and she called
the serving-women, bidding them bring food and wine.
Now Eric sat alone with Swanhild in her bower and made pretence to
eat. But he could eat little, though he drank deep of the southern
wine. Close beside him sat Swanhild, filling his cup. She was wondrous
fair that night, and it seemed to Eric that her eyes gleamed like
stars. Sweetly she spoke also and wisely. She told strange tales and
she sang strange songs, and ever her eyes shone more and more, and
ever she crept closer to him. Eric's brain was afire, though his heart
was cold and dead. He laughed loud and mightily, he told great tales
of deeds that he had done, growing boastful in his folly, and still
Swanhild's eyes shone more and more, and still she crept closer,
wooing him in many ways.
Now of a sudden Eric thought of his friend, Earl Atli, and his mind
grew clear.
"This may not be, Swanhild," he said. "Yet I would that I had loved
thee from the first, and not the false Gudruda: for, with all thy dark
ways, at least thou art better than she."
"Thou speakest wisely, Eric," Swanhild answered, though she meant not
that he should go. "The Norns have appointed us an evil fate, giving
me as wife to an old man whom I do not love, and thee for a lover to a
woman who has betrayed thee. Ah, Eric Brighteyes, thou foolish Eric!
why knewest thou not the false from the true while yet there was time?
Now are all words said and all things done--nor can they be undone. Go
hence, Eric, ere ill come of it; but, before thou goest, drink one cup
of parting, and then farewell."
And she slipped from him and filled the cup, mixing in it a certain
love-portion that she had made ready.
"Give it me that I may swear an oath on it," said Eric.
Swanhild gave him the cup and stood before him, watching him.
"Hearken," he said: "I swear this, that before snow falls again in
Iceland I will see Ospakar dead at my feet or lie dead at the feet of
Ospakar."
"Well spoken, Eric," Swanhild answered. "Now, before thou drinkest,
grant me one little boon. It is but a woman's fancy, and thou canst
scarce deny me. The years will be long when thou art gone, for from
this night it is best that we should meet no more, and I would keep
something of thee to call back thy memory and the memories of our
youth when thou hast passed away and I grow old."
"What wouldst have then, Swanhild? I have nothing left to give, except
Whitefire alone."
"I do not ask Whitefire, Eric, though Whitefire shall kiss the gift. I
ask nothing but one tress of that golden hair of thine."
"Once I swore that none should touch my hair again except Gudruda's
self."
"It will grow long, then, Eric, for now Gudruda tends black locks and
thinks little on golden. Broken are all oaths."
Eric groaned. "All oaths are broken in sooth," he said. "Have then thy
will;" and, loosing the peace-strings, he drew Whitefire from its
sheath and gave her the great war-sword.
Swanhild took it by the hilt, and, lifting a tress of Eric's yellow
hair, she shore through it deftly with Whitefire's razor-edge, smiling
as she shore. With the same war-blade on which Eric and Gudruda had
pledged their troth, did Swanhild cut the locks that Eric had sworn no
hand should clip except Gudruda's.
He took back the sword and sheathed it, and, knotting the long tress,
Swanhild hid it in her bosom.
"Now drink the cup, Eric," she said--"pledge me and go."
Eric drank to the dregs and cast the cup down, and lo! all things
changed to him, for his blood was afire, and seas seemed to roll
within his brain. Only before him stood Swanhild like a shape of light
and glory, and he thought that she sang softly over him, always
drawing nearer, and that with her came a scent of flowers like the
scent of the Iceland meads in May.
"All oaths are broken, Eric," she murmured, "all oaths are broken
indeed, and now must new oaths be sworn. For cut is thy golden hair,
Brighteyes, and not by Gudruda's hand!" _
Read next: CHAPTER XX - HOW ERIC WAS NAMED ANEW
Read previous: CHAPTER XVIII - HOW EARL ATLI FOUND ERIC AND SKALLAGRIM ON THE SOUTHERN ROCKS OF STRAUMEY ISLE
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