Part 42 (2/2)

”Dead is Ospakar!--slain by the swordless man! Eric Brighteyes hath slain Ospakar Blacktooth!”

Then there went up such a shout as never was heard in the hall of Middalhof.

Now when Gudruda knew that Ospakar was sped, she looked at Eric as he rested, leaning on his sword, and her heart was filled with awe and love. She sprang from her seat, and, coming to where Brighteyes stood, she greeted him.

”Welcome to Iceland, Eric!” she said. ”Welcome, thou glory of the south!”

Now Swanhild grew wild, for she saw that Eric was about to take Gudruda in his arms and kiss her before all men.

”Say, Bjorn,” she cried; ”wilt thou suffer that this outlaw, having slain Ospakar, should lead Gudruda hence as wife?”

”He shall never do so while I live,” cried Bjorn, nearly mad with rage.

”This is my command, sister: that thou dost see Eric no more.”

”Say, Bjorn,” answered Gudruda, ”did I dream, or did I indeed see thee thrust the broken buckler before Eric's feet, so that he stumbled on it and fell?”

”That thou sawest, lady,” said Skallagrim; ”for I saw it also.”

Now Bjorn grew white in his anger. He did not answer Gudruda, but called aloud to his men to slay Eric and Skallagrim. Gizur called also to the folk of Ospakar, and Swanhild to those who came with her.

Then Gudruda fled back to her seat.

But Eric cried aloud also: ”Ye who love me, cleave to me. Suffer it not that Brighteyes be cut down of northerners and outland men. Hear me, Atli's folk; hear me, carles of Coldback and of Middalhof!”

And so greatly did many love Eric that half of the thralls of Bjorn, and almost all of the company of Swanhild who had been Atli's s.h.i.+eld-men and Brighteyes' comrades, drew swords, shouting ”Eric! Eric!” But the carles of Ospakar came on to make an end of him.

Bjorn saw, and, drawing sword, smote at Brighteyes, taking him unawares.

But Skallagrim caught the blow upon his axe, and before Bjorn could smite again Whitefire was aloft and down fell Bjorn, dead!

That was the end of Bjorn, Asmund's son.

”Thou hast squeaked thy last, rat! What did I tell thee?” cried Skallagrim. ”Take Bjorn's s.h.i.+eld and back to back, lord, for here come foes.”

”There goes one,” answered Eric, pointing to the door.

Now Hall of Lithdale slunk through the doorway--Hall, the liar, who cut the grapnel-chain--for he wished to see the last of Skallagrim. But the Baresark still held Eric's spear in his hand. He whirled it aloft, and it hissed through the air. The aim was good, for, as he crept away, the spear struck Hall between neck and shoulder, pinning him to the doorpost, and there the liar died.

”Now the weasel is nailed to the beam,” said Skallagrim. ”Hall of Lithdale, what did I promise thee?”

”Guard thy head and my back,” quoth Eric; ”blows fall!”

Now men smote at Eric and Skallagrim, nor did they spare to smite in turn. And as foes fell before him, Eric stepped one pace forward towards the door, and Skallagrim, who, back to back with him, held off those who pressed behind, took one step rearwards. Thus, a foe for every step, they won their way down the long hall. Fierce raged the fray around them, for, made with hate and drink and the l.u.s.t of fight, Swanhild's folk--Eric's friends--remembering the words of Atli, fell on Ospakar's; and the people of Bjorn fell on each other, brother on brother, and father on son--nor might the fray be stayed. The boards were overthrown, dead men lay among the meats and mead, and the blood of freeman, lord and thrall ran adown the floor. Everywhere through the dusky hall glittered the sheen of flas.h.i.+ng swords and rose the clang of war. Darts clove the air like tongues of flame, and the clamour of battle beat against the roof.

Blinded of the Norns who brought these things to pa.s.s, men sought no mercy and they gave none, but smote and slew till few were left to slay.

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