. Presently there came a sound of horses stamping in the far
corner of the yard. They went thither, and there they found a horse and
two geldings saddled, but with the bits slipped, and on the horse was
such a saddle as women use.

"Eric Brighteyes, Skallagrim Lambstail, and Gudruda the Fair," whispered
Swanhild, naming the horses and laughing evilly--"the birds are within!
Now to snare them."

"Were it not best to meet them by the ship?" asked Gizur.

"Nay, thou fool; if once Eric and Skallagrim are back to back, and
Whitefire is aloft, how many shall be dead before they are down,
thinkest thou? We shall not find them sleeping twice."

"It is shameful to slay sleeping men," said Gizur.

"They are outlaws," she answered. "Hearken, Ospakar's son. Thou sayest
thou dost love me and wouldst wed me: know this, that if thou dost
fail me now, I will never look upon thy face again, but will name thee
Niddering in all men's ears."

Now Gizur loved Swanhild much, for she had thrown her glamour on him as
once she did on Atli, and he thought of her day and night. For there
was this strange thing about Swanhild that, though she was a witch and
wicked, being both fair and gentle she could lead all men, except Eric,
to love her.

But of men she loved Eric alone.

Then Gizur held his peace; but Swanhild spoke again:

"It will be of no use to try the doors, for they are strong. Yet when
I was a child before now I have passed in and out the house at night
by the store-room casement. Follow me, Gizur." Then she crept along the
shadow of the wall, for she knew it every stone, till she came to the
store-room, and lo! the shutter stood open, and through it the moonlight
poured into the chamber. Swanhild lifted her head above the sill and
looked, then started back.

"Hush!" she said, "Skallagrim lies asleep within."

"Pray the Gods he wake not!" said Gizur beneath his breath, and turned
to go. But Swanhild caught him by the arm; then gently raised her head
and looked again, long and steadily. Presently she turned and laughed
softly.

"Things go well for us," she said; "the sot lies drunk. We have nothing
to fear from him. He lies drunk in a pool of ale."

Then Gizur looked. The moonlight poured into the little room, and by
it he saw the great shape of Skallagrim. His head was thrown back, his
mouth was wide. He snored loudly in his drunken sleep, and all about him
ran the brown ale, for the spigot of the cask lay upon the floo