“Only this,” said Gizur, “that Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail stand like two grey wolves and hold the narrow way.”

“Now we shall have fighting worth the telling of,” quoth Ketel the viking.  “On, Gizur, Ospakar’s son, and cut them down!”

“Hold!” said Swanhild; “I will speak with Eric first,” and, together with Gizur and Ketel, she passed round the corner of the path and came face to face with those who stood at bay there.

“Now yield, Eric,” she cried.  “Foes are behind and before thee.  Thou art trapped, and hast little chance of life.  Yield thee, I say, with thy black wolf-hound, so perchance thou mayest find mercy even at the hands of her whose husband thou didst wrong and slay.”

“It is not my way to yield, lady,” answered Eric, “and still less perchance is it the way of Skallagrim.  Least of all will we yield to thee who, after working many ills, didst throw me in a witch-sleep, and to him who slew the wife sleeping at my side.  Hearken, Swanhild:  here we stand, awaiting death, nor will we take mercy from thy hand.  For know this, we shall not die alone.  Last night as we sat on Mosfell we saw the Norns weave our web of fate upon their loom of darkness.  They sat on Helca’s dome and wove their pictures in living flame, then rent the web and flew upward and southward and westward, crying our doom to sky and earth and sea.  Last night as we sat by the fire on Mosfell all the company of the dead were gathered round us—­ay! and all the company of 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 we two also.  Valkyries have kissed us and death draws near.  Therefore, talk no more, but come and make an end.  Greeting, Gizur, thou woman-murderer!  Draw nigh! draw nigh!  Out sword! up shield! and on, thou son of Ospakar!”

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 they drew near, as many as might, and looked doubtfully at the pair who stood before them like rocks upon a plain.  Eric laughed aloud and Skallagrim gnawed the edge of his shield.  Eric laughed aloud and the sound of his laughter ran up the rocks.

“We are but two,” he cried, “and ye are many!  Is there never a pair among 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 at once their knees were loosened, so that they sank down dead.

“More men! more men!” cried Eric.  “These were brave, but their might was little.  More men for the Grey Wolf’s maw!”