zur, Swanhild, and Gudruda. For the serving thralls and womenfolk had
fled the hall, and with them some peaceful men.

Then Gudruda spoke as one in a dream.

"Saevuna's prophecy was true," she said, "red was the marriage-feast of
Asmund my father, redder has been the marriage-feast of Ospakar! She saw
the hall of Middalhof one gore of blood, and lo! it is so; look upon thy
work, Swanhild," and she pointed to the piled-up dead--"look upon thy
work, witch-sister, and grow fearful: for all this death is on thy
head!"

Swanhild laughed aloud. "I think it a merry sight," she cried. "The
marriage-feast of Asmund our father was red, and thy marriage-feast,
Gudruda, has been redder. Would that thy blood and the blood of Eric
ran with the blood of Bjoern and Ospakar! That tale must yet be told,
Gudruda. There shall be binding on of Hell-shoes at Middalhof, but I
bind them not. My task is still to come: for I will live to fasten the
Hell-shoes on the feet of Eric, and on thy feet, Gudruda! At the least,
I have brought about this much, that thou canst scarcely wed Eric the
outlaw: for with his own hand he slew Bjoern our brother, and because
of this I count all that death as nothing. Thou canst not mate with
Brighteyes, lest the wide wounds of Bjoern thy brother should take
tongues and cry thy shame from sea to sea!"

Gudruda made no answer, but sat as one carved in stone. Then Swanhild
spoke again:

"Let us away to the north, Gizur; there to gather strength to make an
end of Eric. Say, wilt thou help us, Gudruda? The blood-feud for the
death of Bjoern is thine."

"Ye are enough to bring about the fall of one unfriended man," Gudruda
said. "Go, and leave me with my sorrow and the dead. Nay! before thou
goest, listen, Swanhild, for there is that in my heart which tells me I
shall never look again upon thy face. From evil to evil thou hast ever
gone, Swanhild, and from evil to evil thou wilt go. It may well chance
that thy wickedness will win. It may well chance that thou wilt crown
thy crimes with my slaying and the slaying of the man who loves me. But
I tell thee this, traitress--murderess, as thou art--that here the tale
ends not. Not by death, Swanhild, shalt thou escape the deeds of life!
_There_ they shall rise up against thee, and _there_ every shame that
thou hast worked, every sin that thou hast sinned, and every soul that
thou hast brought to Hela's halls, shall come to haunt thee and to drive
thee on from age to ag