ic sprang aside, or the blow had been his bane,
and, as he sprang, smote with his fist, and it struck heavily on the
head of Mord above the ear, so that the axe flew from his hand, and he
fell senseless on his father in the snow.

Now swords flashed out, and men ringed round Eric to guard him, and it
came near to the spilling of blood, for the people of Ospakar gnashed
their teeth to see so great a hero overthrown by a youngling, while the
southern folk of Middalhof and Ran River rejoiced loudly, for Eric was
dear to their hearts.

"Down swords," cried Asmund the priest, "and haul yon carcass from the
snow."

This then they did, and Ospakar sat up, breathing in great gasps, the
blood running from his mouth and ears, and he was an evil sight to see,
for what with blood and snow and rage his face was like the face of the
Swinefell Goblin.

But Swanhild spoke in the ear of Gudruda:

"Here," she said, looking at Eric, "we two have a man worth loving,
foster-sister."

"Ay," answered Gudruda, "worth and well worth!"

Now Asmund drew near and before all men kissed Eric Brighteyes on the
brow.

"In sooth," he said, "thou art a mighty man, Eric, and the glory of the
south. This I prophesy of thee: that thou shalt do deeds such as have
not been done in Iceland. Thou hast ill been served, for a knave unknown
greased thy shoes. Yon swarthy Ospakar, the most mighty of all men in
Iceland, could not overthrow thee, though, like a wolf, he fastened his
fangs in thee, and, like a coward, stamped upon thy naked foot. Take
thou the great sword that thou hast won and wear it worthily."

Now Eric took snow and wiped the blood from his brow. Then he grasped
Whitefire and drew it from the scabbard, and high aloft flashed the
war-blade. Thrice he wheeled it round his head, then sang aloud:

"Fast, yestermorn, down Golden Falls,
Fared young Eric to thy feast,
Asmund, father of Gudruda--
Maid whom much he longs to clasp.
But to-day on Giant Blacktooth
Hath he done a needful deed:
Hurling him in heaped-up snowdrift;
Winning Whitefire for his wage."

And again he sang:

"Lord, if in very truth thou thinkest
Brighteyes is a man midst men,
Swear to him, the stalwart suitor,
Handsel of thy sweet maid's hand:
Whom, long loved, to win, down Goldfoss
Swift he sped through frost and foam;
Whom, to win, to troll-like Ogre,
He, 'gainst Whitefire, waged his