n Eric comes."

Now Hall was afraid, thinking of the axe of Skallagrim. Still, he might
not go back upon his word. So he began at the beginning, telling the
story of how he was wounded in the fight with Ospakar's ships and left
Farey isles, and how he came thence to Scotland and sat in Atli's hall
on Orkneys. Then he told how the Gudruda was wrecked on Straumey,
and, of all aboard, Eric and Skallagrim alone were saved because of
Swanhild's dream.

"Herein I see witch-work," said Gudruda.

Then Hall told that Eric became Swanhild's love, but of the other tale
which Swanhild had whispered to Atli he said nothing. For he knew that
Gudruda would not believe this, and, moreover, if it were so, Swanhild
had not sent the token which he should give.

"It may well be," said Gudruda, proudly; "Swanhild is fair and light
of mind. Perchance she led Brighteyes into this snare." But, though
she spoke thus, bitter jealousy and anger burned in her breast and she
remembered the sight which she had seen when Eric and Swanhild met on
the morn of Atli's wedding.

Then Hall told of the slaying of Atli the Good by Eric, but he said
nothing of the Earl's dying words, nor of how he goaded Brighteyes with
his bitter words.

"It was an ill deed in sooth," said Gudruda, "for Eric to slay an old
man whom he had wronged. Still, it may chance that he was driven to it
for his own life's sake."

Then Hall said that he had seen Swanhild after Atli's slaying, and that
she had told him that she and Eric should wed shortly, and that Eric
would rule in Orkneys by her side.

Gudruda asked if that was all his tale.

"Yes, lady," answered Hall, "that is all my tale, for after that I
sailed and know not what happened. But I am charged to give something
to thee, and that by the Lady Swanhild. She bade me say this also: that,
when thou lookest on the gift, thou shouldst think on a certain oath
which Eric took as to the cutting of his hair." And he drew a linen
packet from his breast and gave it to her.

Thrice Gudruda looked on it, fearing to open it. Then, seeing the smile
of mockery on Bjoern's cold face, she took the shears that hung at her
side and cut the thread with them. And as she cut, a lock of golden hair
rose from the packet, untwisting itself like a living snake. The lock
was long, and its end was caked with gore.

"Whose hair is this?" said Gudruda, though she knew the hair well.

"Eric's hair," said Hall, "that Swanhild cut from his