"Down the narrow way, then," said Eric, and while rocks, spears andarrows rushed between and around them, they stepped on to the stone andwon the path beyond. It was clear, for Gizur's folk had not yet come,and they ran nearly to the mouth of it, where there was a bend in theway, and stood there side by side.
"Thou wast at death's door then, lord!" said Skallagrim.
"Head-piece is not head," answered Eric; "but I wonder how they won thecrest of the fell. I have never heard tell of any path by which it mightbe gained."
"There they are at the least," said Skallagrim. "Now this is my will,that thou shouldst take my helm. I am Baresark and put little trust inharness, but rather in my axe and strength alone."
"I will not do that," said Eric. "Listen: I hear them come."
Presently the tumult of voices and the tramp of feet grew clearer, andafter a while Gizur, Swanhild, and the men of their following turnedthe corner of the narrow way, and lo! there before them--ay within threepaces of them--stood Eric and Skallagrim shoulder to shoulder, and thelight poured down upon them from above.
They were terrible to see, and the light shone brightly on Eric's goldenhair and Whitefire's flashing blade, and the shadows lay dark on theblack helm of Skallagrim and in the fierce black eyes beneath.
Back surged Gizur and those with him. Skallagrim would have sprung uponthem, but Eric caught him by the arm, saying: "A truce to thy Baresarkways. Rush not and move not! Let us stand here till they overwhelm us."
Now those behind Gizur cried out to know what ailed them that theypushed back.
"Only this," said Gizur, "that Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstailstand like two grey wolves and hold the narrow way."
"Now we shall have fighting worth the telling of," quoth Ketel theviking. "On, Gizur, Ospakar's son, and cut them down!"
"Hold!" said Swanhild; "I will speak with Eric first," and, togetherwith Gizur and Ketel, she passed round the corner of the path and cameface to face with those who stood at bay there.
"Now yield, Eric," she cried. "Foes are behind and before thee. Thouart trapped, and hast little chance of life. Yield thee, I say, with thyblack wolf-hound, so perchance thou mayest find mercy even at the handsof her whose husband thou didst wrong and slay."
"It is not my way to yield, lady," answered Eric, "and still lessperchance is it the way of Skallagrim. Least of all will we yield tothee who, after working many ills, didst throw me in a witch-sleep, andto him who slew the wife sleeping at my side. Hearken, Swanhild: herewe stand, awaiting death, nor will we take mercy from thy hand. For knowthis, we shall not die alone. Last night as we sat on Mosfell we sawthe Norns weave our web of fate upon their loom of darkness. They sat onHelca's dome and wove their pictures in living flame, then rent the weband flew upward and southward and westward, crying our doom to skyand earth and sea. Last night as we sat by the fire on Mosfell all thecompany of the dead were gathered round us--ay! and all the companyof those who shall die to-day. Thou wast there, Gizur the murderer,Ospakar's son! thou wast there, Swanhild the witch, Groa's daughter!thou wast there, Ketel Viking! with many another man; and there were wetwo also. Valkyries have kissed us and death draws near. Therefore, talkno more, but come and make an end. Greeting, Gizur, thou woman-murderer!Draw nigh! draw nigh! Out sword! up shield! and on, thou son ofOspakar!"
Swanhild spoke no more, and Gizur had no word.
"On, Gizur! Eric calls thee," quoth Ketel Viking; but Gizur slunk back,not forward.
Then Ketel grew mad with rage and shame. He called to the men, and theydrew near, as many as might, and looked doubtfully at the pair who stoodbefore them like rocks upon a plain. Eric laughed aloud and Skallagrimgnawed the edge of his shield. Eric laughed aloud and the sound of hislaughter ran up the rocks.
"We are but two," he cried, "and ye are many! Is there never a pairamong you will stand face to face with a Baresark and a helmless man?"and he tossed Whitefire high into the air and caught it by the hilt.
Then Ketel and another man of his following sprang forward with an oath,and their axes thundered loud on the shields of Eric and of Skallagrim.But Whitefire flickered up and the axe of Skallagrim crashed, and atonce their knees were loosened, so that they sank down dead.
"More men! more men!" cried Eric. "These were brave, but their might waslittle. More men for the Grey Wolf's maw!"
Then Swanhild lashed the folk with bitter words, and two of them sprangon. They sprang on like hounds upon a deer at bay, and they rolled backas gored hounds roll from the deer's horns.
"More men! more men!" cried Eric. "Here lie but four and a hundred pressbehind. Now he shall win great honour who lays Brighteyes low and bringsdown the helm of Skallagrim."
Again two came on, but they found no luck, for presently they also weredown upon the bodies of those who went before. Now none could be foundto come up against the pair, for they fought like Baldur and Thor, andnone could touch them, and no harness might withstand the weight oftheir blows that shore through shield and helm and byrnie, deep to thebone beneath. Then Eric and Skallagrim leaned upon their weapons andmocked their foes, while these cursed and tore their beards with rageand shame.
Now it is to be told that when the thrall and those with him saw Ericand Skallagrim had escaped their rocks and spears, they took counsel,and the end of it was that they slid down a rope to the platform that isunder the crest of the fell. Thence, though they could see nothing, theycould hear the clang of blows and the shouts of those who fought andfell--ay! and the mocking of Eric and of Skallagrim.
"Now it goes thus," said the thrall, who was a cunning man: "Eric andSkallagrim hold the narrow way and none can stand against them. This,then, is my rede: that we turn the rock and take them in the back."
His fellows thought this a good saying, and one by one they stood uponthe little rock and won the narrow way. They crept along this till theywere near to Eric and Skallagrim. Now Swanhild, looking up, saw them andstarted. Skallagrim noted this and glanced over his shoulder, and thatnot too soon, for, as he looked, the thrall lifted sword to smite thehead of Eric.
With a shout of "Back to back!" the Baresark swung round and ere everthe sword might fall his axe was buried deep in the thrall's breast.
"Now we must cut our path through them," said Skallagrim, "and, if itmay be, win the space that is before the cave. Keep them off in front,and I will mind these mannikins."
Now Gizur's folk, seeing what had come about, took heart and fell uponEric with a rush, and those who were with the dead thrall rushed atSkallagrim, and there began such a fight as has not been known inIceland. But the way was so narrow that scarce more than one man couldcome to each of them at a time. And so fierce and true were the blows ofEric and Skallagrim that of those who came on few went back. Down theyfell, and where they fell they died, and for every man who died Ericand Skallagrim won a pace towards the point of rock. Whitefire flamed soswift and swept so wide that it seemed to Swanhild, watching, as thoughthree swords were aloft at once, and the axe of Skallagrim thundereddown like the axe of a woodman against a tree, and those groaned on whomit fell as groans a falling tree. Now the shields of these twain werehewn through and through, and cast away, and their blood ran from manywounds. Still, their life was whole in them and they plied axe and swordwith both hands. And ever men fell, and ever, fighting hard, they drewnearer to the point of rock.
Now it was won, and now all the company that came with the thrall fromover the mountain brow were dead or sorely wounded at the hands ofblack Skallagrim. Lo! one springs on Eric, and Gizur creeps behind him.Whitefire leaps to meet the man and does not leap in vain; but Gizursmites a coward blow at Eric's uncovered head, and wounds him sorely, sothat he falls to his knee.
"Now I am smitten to the death, Skallagrim," cries Eric. "Win the rockand leave me." Yet he rises from his knee.
Then Skallagrim turns, red with blood and terrible to see.
"'Tis but a scratch. Climb thou the rock--I follow," he says, and,screaming like a horse, with weapon aloft he le
aps alone upon the foe.They break before the Baresark rush; they break, they fall--they arecloven by Baresark axe and trodden of Baresark feet! They roll back,leaving the way clear--save for the dead. Then Skallagrim followsBrighteyes to the rock.
Now Eric wipes the gore from his eyes and sees. Then, slowly, and witha reeling brain, he steps down upon the giddy point. He goes near tofalling, yet does not fall, for now he lies upon the open space, andcreeps on hands and knees to the rock-wall that is by the cave, and sitsresting his back against it, Whitefire on his knee.
Before he is there, Skallagrim staggers to his side with a rush.
"Now we have time to breathe, lord," he gasps. "See, here is water,"and he takes a pitcher that stands by, and gives Eric to drink fromthe pool, then drinks himself and pours the rest of the water on Eric'swound. Then new life comes to them, and they both stand on their feetand win back their breath.
"We have not done so badly!" says Skallagrim, "and we are still a matchfor one or two. See, they come! Say, where shall we meet them, lord?"
"Here," quoth Eric; "I cannot stand well upon my legs without the helpof the rock. Now I am all unmeet for fight."
"Yet shall this last stand of thine be sung of!" says Skallagrim.
Now finding none to stay them, the men of Gizur climb one by one uponthe rock and win the space that is beyond. Swanhild goes first of all,because she knows well that Eric will not harm her, and after her comeGizur and the others. But many do not come, for they will lift sword nomore.
Now Swanhild draws near and looks on Eric and mocks him in thefierceness of her heart and the rage of her wolf-love.
"Now," she says, "now are Brighteyes dim eyes! What! weepest thou,Eric?"
"Ay, Swanhild," he answered, "I weep tears of blood for those whom thouhast brought to doom."
She draws nearer and speaks low to him: "Hearken, Eric. Yield thee! Thouhast done enough for honour, and thou art not smitten to the death ofyonder cowardly hound. Yield and I will nurse thee back to health andbear thee hence, and together we will forget our hates and woes."
"Not twice may a man lie in a witch's bed," said Eric, "and my troth isplighted to other than thee, Swanhild."
"She is dead," says Swanhild.
"Yes, she is dead, Swanhild; and I go to seek her amongst the dead--I goto seek her and to find her!"
But the face of Swanhild grew fierce as the winter sea.
"Thou hast put me away for the last time, Eric! Now thou shalt die, as Ihave promised thee and as I promised Gudruda the Fair!"
"So shall I the more quickly find Gudruda and lose sight of thy evilface, Swanhild the harlot! Swanhild the murderess! Swanhild the witch!For I know this: thou shalt not escape!--thy doom draws on also!--andhaunted and accursed shalt thou be for ever! Fare thee well, Swanhild;we shall meet no more, and the hour comes when thou shalt grieve thatthou wast ever born!"
Now Swanhild turned and called to the folk: "Come, cut down these outlawrogues and make an end. Come, cut them down, for night draws on."
Then once more the men of Gizur closed in upon them. Eric smote thriceand thrice the blow went home, then he could smite no more, for hisstrength was spent with toil and wounds, and he sank upon the ground.For a while Skallagrim stood over him like a she-bear o'er her youngand held the mob at bay. Then Gizur, watching, cast a spear at Eric. Itentered his side through a cleft in his byrnie and pierced him deep.
"I am sped, Skallagrim Lambstail," cried Eric in a loud voice, and allmen drew back to see giant Brighteyes die. Now his head fell against therock and his eyes closed.
Then Skallagrim, stooping, drew out the spear and kissed Eric on theforehead.
"Farewell, Eric Brighteyes!" he said. "Iceland shall never see suchanother man, and few have died so great a death. Tarry a while, lord;tarry a while--I come--I come!"
Then crying "_Eric! Eric!_" the Baresark fit took him, and once moreand for the last time Skallagrim rushed screaming upon the foe, andonce more they rolled to earth before him. To and fro he rushed, dealinggreat blows, and ever as he went they stabbed and cut and thrust at hisside and back, for they dared not stand before him, till he bled froma hundred wounds. Now, having slain three more men, and wounded twoothers, Skallagrim might no more. He stood a moment swaying to and fro,then let his axe drop, threw his arms high above him, and with one loudcry of "_Eric!_" fell as a rock falls--dead upon the dead.
But Eric was not yet gone. He opened his eyes and saw the death ofSkallagrim and smiled.
"Well ended, Lambstail!" he said in a faint voice.
"Lo!" cried Gizur, "yon outlawed hound still lives! Now I will do aneedful task and make an end of him, and so shall Ospakar's sword comeback to Ospakar's son."
"Thou art wondrous brave now that the bear lies dying!" said Swanhild.
Now it seemed that Eric heard the words, for suddenly his might cameback to him, and he staggered to his knees and thence to his feet. Then,as folk fall from him, with all his strength he whirls Whitefire roundhis head till it shines like a wheel of fire. "Thy service is done andthou art clean of Gudruda's blood--go back to those who forged thee!"Brighteyes cries, and casts Whitefire from him towards the gulf.
Away speeds the great blade, flashing like lightning through the rays ofthe setting sun, and behold! as men watch it is gone--gone in mid-air!
Since that day no such sword as Whitefire has been known in Iceland.
"Now slay thou me, Gizur," says the dying Eric.
Gizur comes on with little eagerness, and Eric cries aloud:
"Swordless I slew thy father!--swordless, shieldless, and wounded to thedeath I will yet slay _thee_, Gizur the Murderer!" and with a loud cryhe staggered towards him.
Gizur smites him with his sword, but Eric does not stay, and while menwait and wonder, Brighteyes sweeps him into his great arms--ay, sweepshim up, lifts him from the ground and reels on.
Eric reels on to the brink of the gulf. Gizur sees his purpose,struggles and shrieks aloud. But the strength of the dying Eric is morethan the strength of Gizur. Now Brighteyes stands on the dizzy edge andthe light of the passing sun flames about his head. And now, bearingGizur with him, he hurls himself out into the gulf, and lo! the sunsinks!
Men stand wondering, but Swanhild cries aloud:
"Nobly done, Eric! nobly done! So I would have seen thee die who of allmen wast the first!"
This then was the end of Eric Brighteyes the Unlucky, who of allwarriors that have lived in Iceland was the mightiest, the goodliest,and the best beloved of women and of those who clung to him.
Now, on the morrow, Swanhild caused the body of Eric to be searched forin the cleft, and there they found it, floating in water and withthe dead Gizur yet clasped in its bear-grip. Then she cleansed it andclothed it again in its rent armour, and bound on the Hell-shoes, and itwas carried on horses to the sea-side, and with it were borne the bodiesof Skallagrim Lambstail the Baresark, Eric's thrall, and of all thosemen whom they had slain in the last great fight on Mosfell, that is nownamed Ericsfell.
Then Swanhild drew her long dragon of war, in which she had come fromOrkneys, from its shed over against Westman Isles, and in the centre ofthe ship, she piled the bodies of the slain in the shape of a bed,and lashed them fast. And on this bed she laid the corpse of EricBrighteyes, and the breast of black Skallagrim the Baresark was hispillow, and the breast of Gizur, Ospakar's son, was his foot-rest.
Then she caused the sails to be hoisted, and went alone aboard the longship, the rails of which were hung with the shields of the dead men.
And when at evening the breeze freshened to a gale that blew from theland, she cut the cable with her own hand, and the ship leapt forwardlike a thing alive, and rushed out in the red light of the sunsettowards the open sea.
Now ever the gale freshened and folk, standing on Westman Heights,saw the long ship plunge past, dipping her prow beneath the waves andsending the water in a rain of spray over the living Swanhild, over thedead Eric and those he lay upon.
And by the head of
Eric Brighteyes, her hair streaming on the wind,stood Swanhild the Witch, clad in her purple cloak, and with rings ofgold about her throat and arms. She stood by Eric's head, swaying withthe rush of the ship, and singing so sweet and wild a song that men grewweak who heard it.
Now, as the people watched, two white swans came down from the cloudsand sped on wide wings side by side over the vessel's mast.
The ship rushed on through the glow of sunset into the gathering night.On sped the ship, but still Swanhild sung, and still the swans flew overher.
The gale grew fierce, and fiercer yet. The darkness gathered deep uponthe raging sea.
Now that ship was seen no more, and the death-song of Swanhild as shepassed to doom was never heard again.
For swans and ship, and Swanhild, and dead Eric and his dead foes, werelost in the wind and the night.
But far out on the sea a great flame of fire leapt up towards the sky.
Now this is the tale of Eric Brighteyes, Thorgrimur's son; of Gudrudathe Fair, Asmund's daughter; of Swanhild the Fatherless, Atli's wife,and of Ounound, named Skallagrim Lambstail, the Baresark, Eric's thrall,all of whom lived and died before Thangbrand, Wilibald's son, preachedthe White Christ in Iceland.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends