On the morrow
the hair was caked so fast about his neck that it could only be freed by
shearing it. But this Eric would not suffer. None, he said, should shear
his hair, except Gudruda. Thus he had sworn, and when he broke the oath
misfortune had come of it. He would break that vow no more, if it cost
him his life. For sorrow and his ill luck had taken so great a hold of
Eric's mind that in some ways he was scarcely himself.

So it came to pass that he fell more and more sick, till at length
he could not rise from his bed in the cave, but lay there all day and
night, staring at the little light which pierced the gloom. Still, he
would not suffer that anyone should touch his hair. And when one stole
upon him sleeping, thinking so to cut it before he woke, and come at the
wound, suddenly he sat up and dealt the man such a buffet on the head
that he went near to death from it.

Then Skallagrim spoke.

"On this matter," he said, "it seems that Brighteyes is mad. He will not
suffer that any touch his hair, except Gudruda, and yet, if his hair is
not shorn, he must die, for the wound will fester under it. Nor may we
cut it by strength, for then he will kill himself in struggling. It is
come to this then: either Gudruda must be brought hither or Eric will
shortly die."

"That may not be," they answered. "How can the lady Gudruda come here
across the snows, even if she will come?"

"Come she can, if she has the heart," said Skallagrim, "though I put
little trust in women's hearts. Still, I ride down to Middalhof, and
thou, Jon, shalt go with me. For the rest, I charge you watch your lord;
for, if I come back and find anything amiss, that shall be the death of
some, and if I do not come back but perish on the road, yet I will haunt
you."

Now Jon liked not this task; still, for love of Eric and fear of
Skallagrim, he set out with the Baresark. They had a hard journey
through the snow-drifts and the dark, but on the third day they came to
Middalhof, knocked upon the door and entered.

Now it was supper-time, and people, sitting at meat, saw a great black
man, covered with snow and rime, stalk up the hall, and after him
another smaller man, who groaned with the cold, and they wondered at
the sight. Gudruda sat on the high seat and the firelight beat upon her
face.

"Who comes here?" she said.

"One who would speak with thee, lady," answered Skallagrim.

"Here is Skallagrim the Baresark," said a man. "He is an outlaw,