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_ Now Jon, Eric's thrall, watched all night on Mosfell, but saw nothing
except the light of Whitefire as it smote the Baresark's head from his
shoulders. He stayed there till daylight, much afraid; then, making
sure that Eric was slain, Jon rode hard and fast for Middalhof,
whither he came at evening.
Gudruda was watching by the women's door. She strained her eyes
towards Mosfell to catch the light gleaming on Eric's golden helm, and
presently it gleamed indeed, white not red.
"See," said Swanhild at her side, "Eric comes!"
"Not Eric, but his thrall," answered Gudruda, "to tell us that Eric is
sped."
They waited in silence while Jon galloped towards them.
"What news of Brighteyes?" cried Swanhild.
"Little need to ask," said Gudruda, "look at his face."
Now Jon told his tale and Gudruda listened, clinging to the door post.
But Swanhild cursed him for a coward, so that he shrank before her
eyes.
Gudruda turned and walked into the hall and her face was like the face
of death. Men saw her, and Asmund asked why she wore so strange a
mien. Then Gudruda sang this song:
"Up to Mosfell, battle eager,
Rode helmed Brighteyen to the fray.
Back from Mosfell, battle shunning.
Slunk yon coward thrall I ween.
Now shall maid Gudruda never
Know a husband's dear embrace;
Widowed is she--sunk in sorrow,
Eric treads Valhalla's halls!"
And with this she walked from the stead, looking neither to the right
nor to the left.
"Let the maid be," said Atli the Earl. "Grief fares best alone. But my
heart is sore for Eric. It should go ill with that Baresark if I might
get a grip of him."
"That I will have before summer is gone," said Asmund, for the death
of Eric seemed to him the worst of sorrows.
Gudruda walked far, and, crossing Laxà by the stepping stones, climbed
Stonefell till she came to the head of Golden Falls, for, like a
stricken thing, she desired to be alone in her grief. But Swanhild saw
her and followed, coming on her as she sat watching the water thunder
down the mighty cleft. Presently Swanhild's shadow fell athwart her,
and Gudruda looked up.
"What wouldst thou with me, Swanhild?" she asked. "Art thou come to
mock my grief?"
"Nay, foster-sister, for then I must mock my own. I come to mix my
tears with thine. See, we loved Eric, thou and I, and Eric is dead.
Let our hate be buried in his grave, whence neither may draw him
back."
Gudruda looked upon her coldly, for nothing could stir her now.
"Get thee gone," she said. "Weep thine own tears and leave me to weep
mine. Not with thee will I mourn Eric."
Swanhild frowned and bit her lip. "I will not come to thee with words
of peace a second time, my rival," she said. "Eric is dead, but my
hate that was born of Eric's love for thee lives on and grows, and its
flower shall be thy death, Gudruda!"
"Now that Brighteyes is dead, I would fain follow on his path: so, if
thou listest, throw the gates wide," Gudruda answered, and heeded her
no more.
Swanhild went, but not far. On the further side of a knoll of grass
she flung herself to earth and grieved as her fierce heart might. She
shed no tears, but sat silently, looking with empty eyes adown the
past, and onward to the future, and finding no good therein.
But Gudruda wept as the weight of her loss pressed in upon her--wept
heavy silent tears and cried in her heart to Eric who was gone--cried
to death to come upon her and bring her sleep or Eric.
So she sat and so she grieved till, quite outworn with sorrow, sleep
stole upon her and she dreamed. Gudruda dreamed that she was dead and
that she sat nigh to the golden door that is in Odin's house at
Valhalla, by which the warriors pass and repass for ever. There she
sat from age to age, listening to the thunder of ten thousand thousand
tramping feet, and watching the fierce faces of the chosen as they
marched out in armies to do battle in the meads. And as she sat, at
length a one-eyed man, clad in gleaming garments, drew near and spoke
to her. He was glorious to look on, and old, and she knew him for Odin
the Allfather.
"Whom seekest thou, maid Gudruda?" he asked, and the voice he spoke
with was the voice of waters.
"I seek Eric Brighteyes," she answered, "who passed hither a thousand
years ago, and for love of whom I am heart-broken."
"Eric Brighteyes, Thorgrimur's son?" quoth Odin. "I know him well; no
brisker warrior enters at Valhalla's doors, and none shall do more
service at the coming of grey wolf Fenrir.[*] Pass on and leave him to
his glory and his God."
[*] The foe destined to bring destruction on the Norse gods.
Then, in her dream, she wept sore, and prayed of Odin by the name of
Freya that he would give Eric to her for a little space.
"What wilt thou pay, then, maid Gudruda?" said Odin.
"My life," she answered.
"Good," he said; "for a night Eric shall be thine. Then die, and let
thy death be his cause of death." And Odin sang this song:
"Now, corse-choosing Daughters, hearken
To the dread Allfather's word:
When the gale of spears' breath gathers
Count not Eric midst the slain,
Till Brighteyen once hath slumbered,
Wedded, at Gudruda's side--
Then, Maidens, scream your battle call;
Whelmed with foes, let Eric fall!"
And Gudruda awoke, but in her ears the mighty waters still seemed to
speak with Odin's voice, saying:
"Then, Maidens, scream your battle call;
Whelmed with foes, let Eric fall!"
She awoke from that fey sleep, and looked upwards, and lo! before her,
with shattered shield and all besmeared with war's red rain, stood
gold-helmed Eric. There he stood, great and beautiful to see, and she
looked on him trembling and amazed.
"Is it indeed thou, Eric, or is it yet my dream?" she said.
"I am no dream, surely," said Eric; "but why lookest thou thus on me,
Gudruda?"
She rose slowly. "Methought," she said, "methought that thou wast dead
at the hand of Skallagrim." And with a great cry she fell into his
arms and lay there sobbing.
It was a sweet sight thus to see Gudruda the Fair, her head of gold
pillowed on Eric's war-stained byrnie, her dark eyes afloat with tears
of joy; but not so thought Swanhild, watching. She shook in jealous
rage, then crept away, and hid herself where she could see no more,
lest she should be smitten with madness.
"Whence camest thou? ah! whence camest thou?" said Gudruda. "I thought
thee dead, my love; but now I dreamed that I prayed Odin, and he
spared thee to me for a little."
"Well, and that he hath, though hardly," and he told her all that had
happened, and how, as he rode with Skallagrim, who yet sat yonder on
his horse, he caught sight of a woman seated on the grass and knew the
colour of the cloak.
Then Gudruda kissed him for very joy, and they were happy each with
each--for of all things that are sweet on earth, there is nothing more
sweet that this: to find him we loved, and thought dead and cold,
alive and at our side.
And so they talked and were very glad with the gladness of youth and
love, till Eric said he must on to Middalhof before the light failed,
for he could not come on horseback the way that Gudruda took, but must
ride round the shoulder of the hill; and, moreover, he was spent with
toil and hunger, and Skallagrim grew weary of waiting.
"Go!" said Gudruda; "I will be there presently!"
So he kissed her and went, and Swanhild saw the kiss and saw him go.
"Well, lord," said Skallagrim, "hast thou had thy fill of kissing?"
"Not altogether," answered Eric.
They rode a while in silence.
"I thought the maid seemed very fair!" said Skallagrim.
"There are women less favoured, Skallagrim."
"Rich bait for mighty fish!" said Skallagrim. "This I tell thee: that,
strive as thou mayest against thy fate, that maid will be thy bane and
mine also."
"Things foredoomed will happen," said Eric; "but if thou fearest a
maid, the cure is easy: depart from my company."
"Who was the other?" asked the Baresark--"she who crept and peered,
listened, then crept back again, hid her face in her hands, and talked
with a grey wolf that came to her like a dog?"
"That must have been Swanhild," said Eric, "but I did not see her.
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.
When Eric left her, Gudruda drew yet nearer to the edge of the mighty
falls, and seated herself on their very brink. Her breast was full of
joy, and there she sat and let the splendour of the night and the
greatness of the rushing sounds sink into her heart. Yonder shone the
setting sun, poised, as it were, on Westman's distant peaks, and here
sped the waters, and by that path Eric had come back to her. Yea, and
there on Sheep-saddle was the road that he had trod down Goldfoss; and
but now he had slain one Baresark and won another to be his thrall,
and they two alone had smitten the company of Ospakar, and come thence
with honour and but little harmed. Surely no such man as Eric had ever
lived--none so fair and strong and tender; and she was right happy in
his love! 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. Should this fair rival like to take her joy from her?
"/Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what sayest thou?/"
See, now, if Gudruda were gone, if she rolled a corpse into those
boiling waters, Eric might yet be hers; or, if he was not hers, yet
Gudruda's he could never be.
"/Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what is thy counsel?/"
Right on the brink of the great gulf sat Gudruda. One stroke and all
would be ended. Eric had gone; there was no eye to see--none save the
Grey Wolf's; there was no tongue to tell the deed that might be done.
Who could call her to account? The Gods! Who were the Gods? What were
the Gods? Were they not dreams? There were no Gods save the Gods of
Evil--the Gods she knew and communed with.
"/Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what is thy rede?/"
There sat Gudruda, laughing in the triumph of her joy, with the
sunset-glow shining on her beauty, and there, behind her, Swanhild
crept--crept like a fox upon his sleeping prey.
Now she is there--
"/I hear thee, Grey Wolf! Back to my breast, Grey Wolf!/"
Surely Gudruda heard something? She half turned her head, then again
fell to calling aloud to the waters:
"Eric! beloved Eric!--ah! is there ever a light like the light of
thine eyes--is there ever a joy like the joy of thy kiss?"
Swanhild heard, and her springs of mercy froze. Hate and fury entered
into her. She rose upon her knees and gathered up her strength:
"Seek, then, thy joy in Goldfoss," she cried aloud, and with all her
force she thrust.
Gudruda fell a fathom or more, then, with a cry, she clutched wildly
at a little ledge of rock, and hung there, her feet resting on the
shelving bank. Thirty fathoms down swirled and poured and rolled the
waters of the Golden Falls. A fathom above, red in the red light of
evening, lowered the pitiless face of Swanhild. Gudruda looked beneath
her and saw. Pale with agony she looked up and saw, but she said
naught.
"Let go, my rival; let go!" cried Swanhild: "there is none to help
thee, and none to tell thy tale. Let go, I say, and seek thy marriage-
bed in Goldfoss!"
But Gudruda clung on and gazed upwards with white face and piteous
eyes.
"What! art thou so fain of a moment's life?" said Swanhild. "Then I
will save thee from thyself, for it must be ill to suffer thus!" and
she ran to seek a rock. Now she finds one and, staggering beneath its
weight to the brink of the gulf, peers over. Still Gudruda hangs.
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. He leaps from his horse, and even as she looses the stone,
clutches Swanhild's kirtle and hurls her back. The rock bounds
sideways and presently is lost in the waters.
Eric looks over. He sees Gudruda's white face gleaming in the gloom.
Down he leaps upon the ledge, though this is no easy thing.
"Hold fast! I come; hold fast!" he cries.
"I can no more," gasps Gudruda, and one hand slips.
Eric grasps the rock and, stretching downward, grips her wrist; just
as her hold loosens he grips it, and she swings loose, her weight
hanging on his arm.
Now he must needs lift her up and that with one hand, for the ledge is
narrow and he dare not loose his hold of the rock above. She swings
over the great gulf and she is senseless as one dead. He gathers all
his mighty strength and lifts. His feet slip a little, then catch, and
once more Gudruda swings. The sweat bursts out upon his forehead and
his blood drums through him. Now it must be, or not at all. Again he
lifts and his muscles strain and crack, and she lies beside him on the
narrow ledge!
All is not yet done. The brink of the cleft is the height of a man
above him. There he must lay her, for he may not leave her to find
aid, lest she should wake and roll into the chasm. Loosing his hold of
the cliff, he turns, facing the rock, and, bending over Gudruda,
twists his hands in her kirtle below the breast and above the knee.
Then once more Eric puts out his might and draws her up to the level
of his breast, and rests. Again with all his force he lifts her above
the crest of his helm and throws her forward, so that now she lies
upon the brink of the great cliff. He almost falls backward at the
effort, but, clutching the rock, he saves himself, and with a struggle
gains her side, and lies there, panting like a wearied hound of chase.
Of all trials of strength that ever were put upon his might, Eric was
wont to say, this lifting of Gudruda was the greatest; for she was no
light woman, and there was little to stand on and almost nothing to
cling to.
Presently Brighteyes rose and peered at Gudruda through the gloom. She
still swooned. Then he gazed about him--but Swanhild, the witchgirl,
was gone.
Then he took Gudruda in his arms, and, leading the horse, stumbled
through the darkness, calling on Skallagrim. The Baresark answered,
and presently his large form was seen looming in the gloom.
Eric told his tale in few words.
"The ways of womankind are evil," said Skallagrim; "but of all the
deeds that I have known done at their hands, this is the worst. It had
been well to hurl the wolf-witch from the cliff."
"Ay, well," said Eric; "but that song must yet be sung."
Now dimly lighted of the rising moon by turns they bore Gudruda down
the mountain side, till at length, utterly fordone, they saw the fires
of Middalhof. _
Read next: CHAPTER X - HOW ASMUND SPOKE WITH SWANHILD
Read previous: CHAPTER VIII - HOW OSPAKAR BLACKTOOTH FOUND ERIC BRIGHTEYES AND SKALLAGRIM LAMBSTAIL ON HORSE-HEAD HEIGHTS
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