Part 51 (1/2)

Say, lovers, where shall ye kiss again?”

Then the light went out of her eyes and she laughed low. 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!”

”Fear not,” she said, ”the fire is out. Now to the work.”

”What must we do, then?”

”_Thou_ must do this. Thou must enter and slay Eric.”

”That I can not--that I will not!” said Gizur.

She turned and looked at him, and lo! her eyes began to flame again--upon his eyes they seemed to burn.

”Thou wilt do as I bid thee,” she said. ”With Eric's sword thou shalt slay Eric, else I will curse thee where thou art, and bring such evil on thee as thou knowest not of.”

”Look not so, Swanhild,” he said. ”Lead on--I come.”

Now they creep into the shut chamber of Gudruda. It is so dark that they can see nothing, and nothing can they hear except the heavy breathing of the sleepers.

This is to be told, that at this time Swanhild had it in her mind to kill, not Eric but Gudruda, for thus she would smite the heart of Brighteyes. Moreover, she loved Eric, and while he lived she might yet win him; but Eric dead must be Eric lost. But on Gudruda she would be bitterly avenged--Gudruda, who, for all her scheming, had yet been a wife to Eric!

Now they stand by the bed. Swanhild puts out her hand, draws down the clothes, and feels the breast of Gudruda beneath, for Gudruda slept on the outside of the bed.

Then she searches by the head of the bed and finds Whitefire which hung there, and draws the sword.

”Here lies Eric, on the outside,” she says to Gizur, ”and here is Whitefire. Strike and strike home, leaving Whitefire in the wound.”

Gizur takes the sword and lifts it. He is sore at heart that he must do such a coward deed; but the spell of Swanhild is upon him, and he may not flinch from it. Then a thought takes him and he also puts down his hand to feel. It lights upon Gudruda's golden hair, that hangs about her breast and falls from the bed to the ground.

”Here is woman's hair,” he whispers.

”No,” Swanhild answers, ”it is Eric's hair. The hair of Eric is long, as thou hast seen.”

Now neither of them knows that Gudruda cut Eric's locks when he lay sick on Mosfell, though Swanhild knows well that it is not Brighteyes whom she bids Gizur slay.

Then Gizur, Ospakar's son, lifts the sword, and the faint starlight struggling into the chamber gathers and gleams upon the blade. Thrice he lifts it, and thrice it draws it back. Then with an oath he strikes--and drives it home with all his strength!

From the bed beneath there comes one long sigh and a sound as of limbs trembling against the bed-gear. Then all is still.

”It is done!” he says faintly.