she said. "Oh, Eric! Eric! whither go we when we die? Will
Valhalla take thee, being so mighty a man, and must I away to Hela's
halls, where thou art not? Oh! that would be death indeed! Say, Eric,
whither do we go?"

"What said the voice of Asmund?" answered Brighteyes. "That death is but
the gate of life and love and rest. Hearken, Gudruda, my May! Odin does
not reign over all the world, for when I sat out yonder in England,
a certain holy man taught me of another God--a God who loves not
slaughter, a God who died that men might live for ever in peace with
those they love."

"How is this God named, Eric?"

"They name Him the White Christ, and there are many who cling to Him."

"Would that I knew this Christ, Eric. I am weary of death and blood and
evil deeds, such as are pleasing to our Gods. Oh, Eric, if I am taken
from thee, swear this to me: that thou wilt slay no more, save for thy
life's sake only."

"I swear that, sweet," he made answer. "For I too am weary of death and
blood, and desire peace most of all things. The world is sad, and sad
have been our days. Yet it is well to have lived, for through many heavy
days we have wandered to this happy night."

"Yea, Eric, it is well to have lived; though I think that death draws
on. Now this is my counsel: that we rise, and that thou dost put on thy
harness and summon Skallagrim, so that, if evil comes, thou mayst meet
it armed. Surely I thought I heard a sound--yonder in the hall!"

"There is little use in that," said Eric, "for things will befall as
they are fated. We may do nothing of our own will, I am sure of this,
and it is no good to struggle with the Norns. Yet I will rise."

So he kissed her, and made ready to leave the bed, when suddenly, as he
lingered, a great heaviness seized him.

"Gudruda," he said, "I am pressed down with sleep."

"That I am also, Eric," she said. "My eyes shut of themselves and I can
scarcely stir my limbs. Ah, Eric, we are fey indeed, and this is--death
that comes!"

"Perchance!" he said, speaking heavily.

"Eric!--wake, Eric! Thou canst not move? Yet hearken to me--ah! this
weight of sleep! Thou lovest me, Eric!--is it not so?"

"Yea," he answered.

"Now and for ever thou lovest me--and wilt cleave to me always wherever
we go?"

"Surely, sweet. Oh, sweet, farewell!" he said, and his voice sounded
like the voice of one who speaks across the water.

"Farewell, Eric Brighteyes!--my love--my love, farewell!" she ans