Ospakar sat in the hall at Middalhof, near to the high seat.  He was fully armed, and a black helm with a raven’s crest was on his head.  For, though he said nothing of it, not a little did he fear that Saevuna spoke sooth—­that her words would come true, and, before this day was done, he and Eric should once more stand face to face.  At his side sat Gudruda the Fair, robed in white, a worked head-dress on her head, golden clasps upon her breast and golden rings about her arms.  Never had she been more beautiful to see; but her face was whiter than her robes.  She looked with loathing on Blacktooth at her side, rough like a bear, and hideous as a troll.  But he looked on her with longing, and laughed from side to side of his great mouth when he thought that at last he had got her for his own.

“Ah, if Eric would but come, faithless though he be!—­if Eric would but come!” thought Gudruda; but no Eric came to save her.  The guests gathered fast, and presently Swanhild swept in with all her company, wrapped about in her purple cloak.  She came up to the high seat where Gudruda sat, and bent the knee before her, looking on her with lovely mocking face and hate in her blue eyes.

“Greeting, Gudruda, my sister!” she said.  “When last we met I sat, Atli’s bride, where to-day thou sittest the bride of Ospakar.  Then Eric Brighteyes held thy hand, and little thou didst think of wedding Ospakar.  Now Eric is afar—­so strangely do things come about—­and Blacktooth, Brighteyes’ foe, holds that fair hand of thine.”

Gudruda looked on her and turned whiter yet in her pain, but she answered never a word.

“What! no word for me, sister?” said Swanhild.  “And yet it is through me that thou comest to this glad hour.  It is through me that thou art rid of Eric, and it is I who have given thee to the arms of mighty Ospakar.  No word of thanks for so great a service!—­fie on thee, Gudruda! fie!”

Then Gudruda spoke:  “Strange tales are told of thee and Eric, Groa’s daughter!  I have done with Eric, but I have done with thee also.  Thou hast thrust thyself here against my will and, if I may, I would see thy face no more.”

“Wouldst thou see Eric’s face, Gudruda?—­say, wouldst see Eric’s face?  I tell thee it is fair!”

But Gudruda answered nothing, and Swanhild fell back, laughing.

Now the feast began, and men waxed merry.  But ever Gudruda’s heart grew heavier, for in it echoed those words that Saevuna had spoken.  Her eyes were dim, and she seemed to see naught but the face of Eric as it had looked when he came back to her that day on the brink of Goldfoss Falls and she had thought him dead.  Oh! what if he still loved her and were yet true at heart?  Swanhild mocked her!—­what if this was a plot of Swanhild’s?  Had not Swanhild plotted aforetime, and could a wolf cease from ravening or a witch from witch-work?  Nay, she had seen Eric’s hair—­that he had sworn none save she should touch!  Perchance