e 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 pa