ild, though she hates me much and has striven hard
to draw my betrothed from me. Now thou canst only take one counsel,
and it is: to give choice to Swanhild of these two things, though it is
unworthy that Atli should be deceived, and at the best little good can
come of it."

"Yet it must be done, for honour is often slain of heavy need," said
Asmund. "But we must first swear this Baresark thrall of thine, though
little faith lives in Baresark's breast."

Now Eric called to Skallagrim and charged him strictly that he should
tell nothing of Swanhild, and of the wolf that he saw by her, and of how
Gudruda was found hanging over the gulf.

"Fear not," growled the Baresark, "my tongue is now my master's. What
is it to me if women do their wickedness one on another? Let them
work magic, hate and slay by stealth, so shall evil be lessened in the
world."

"Peace!" said Eric; "if anything of this passes thy lips thou art no
longer a thrall of mine, and I give thee up to the men of thy quarter."

"And I cleave that wolf's head of thine down to thy hawk's eyes; but,
otherwise, I give thee peace, and will hold thee from harm, wood-dweller
as thou art," said Asmund.

The Baresark laughed: "My hands will hold my head against ten such
mannikins as thou art, Priest. There was never but one man who might
overcome me in fair fight and there he stands, and his bidding is my
law. So waste no words and make not niddering threats against greater
folk," and he slouched back to his horse.

"A mighty man and a rough," said Asmund, looking after him; "I like his
looks little."

"Natheless a strong in battle," quoth Eric; "had he not been at my back
some six hours gone, by now the ravens had torn out these eyes of mine.
Therefore, for my sake, bear with him."

Asmund said it should be so, and then they passed on to the stead.

Here Eric stripped off his harness, washed, and bound up his wounds.
Then, followed by Skallagrim, axe in hand, he came into the hall as men
made ready to sit at meat. Now the tale of the mighty deeds that he
had done, except that of the saving of Gudruda, had gone abroad, and as
Brighteyes came all men rose and with one voice shouted till the roof of
the great hall rocked:

"_Welcome, Eric Brighteyes, thou glory of the south!_"

Only Bjoern, Asmund's son, bit his hand, and did not shout, for he hated
Eric because of the fame that he had won.

Brighteyes stood still till the clamour died, then said:

"Much