 31 How Eric sent away his men from Mosfell. Now Eric and Scalagrim came to Mosfell in safety, and during all that ride Brideyes spoke no word. He rode in silence, and in silence Scalagrim rode after him. The heart of Scalagrim was broken because of the sorrow which his drunkenness had brought about, and the heart of Eric was buried in Gadruda's grave. On Mosfell Eric found four of his own men, two of whom had been among those that the people of Ghazour and Swanhild had driven from Gadruda's ship before they fired her. For no fight had been made on the ship. There also he found John, who had been loosed from his bands in the booth by one who heard his cries as he rode past. Now when John saw Brideyes, he told him all, and fell at Eric's feet and wept because he had betrayed him in his fear. But Eric spoke no angry word to him, stooping down he raised him, saying, Thou wast never overstout of heart, John, and thou art scarcely to be blamed because thou didst speak rather than die in torment, though perhaps some had chosen so to die and not to speak. Now I am a luckless man, and all things happen as they are fated, and the words of Atlai come true, as was to be looked for. The Norns, against whom none may stand, did but work their will through thy mouth, John, so grieve no more for that which cannot be undone. Then he turned away, but John wept long and loudly. That night Eric slept well and dreamed no dreams, but on the morrow he woke at dawn and clothed himself an eight. Then he called his men together, and with them Scalagrim. They came and stood before him, and Eric, drawing white fire, leaned upon it and spoke. Harkin, mates, he said, I know this, that my hours are short, and death draws on. My years have been few and evil, and I cannot read the purpose of my life. She, whom I loved, has been slain by the witchcraft of Swanhild, and the coward hand of Ghazur, the murderer, and I go to seek her where she waits. I am very glad to go, for now I have no more joy in life, being but a luckless man. It is an ill world, friends, and all the ways are red with blood. I have shed much blood, though but one life haunts me now at the last, and that is the life of Atly the Earl, for he was no match for my might, and he is dead because of my sin. With my own blood I will wash away the blood of Atly, and then I seek another place, leaving nothing but a tale to be told in the Ingle when fall the winter snows, for to this end we all come at last, and it matters little if it find us at midday or at nightfall. We live in sorrow, and we die in pain and darkness, for this is the curse that the gods have laid upon men, and each must taste it in his season. But I am sworn that no more men shall die for me. I will fight the last great fight alone, for I know this, I shall not easily be overcome, and with my fallen foes I will tread on Bifos Bridge. Therefore, farewell! When the bones of Eric Brideyes lie in their barrow, or are picked by ravens on the mountainside, Ghazur will not trouble to hunt out those who clung to him, if indeed Ghazur shall live to tell the tale. Nor need ye fear the hate of Swanhild, for she aims her spears at me alone. Go therefore, and when I am dead, do not forget me, and do not seek to avenge me, for death the Avenger of all will find them also. Now Eric's men heard, and groaned aloud, saying that they would die with him, for they loved Eric one and all. Only Scaligram said nothing. Then Brideyes spoke again, Hear me, comrades! If ye will not go, my blood will be on your heads, for I will ride out alone and meet the men of Ghazur in the plain, and fall there fighting. Then one by one they crept away to seek their horses in the dell, and each man, as he went, came to Eric and kissed his hand, then passed then sweeping. John was the last to go, except Scaligram only, and he was so moved that he could not speak at all. It was this John who, in after years, when he was grown very old, wandered from stead to stead, telling the deeds of Eric Brideyes, and always finding a welcome because of his tale. Till at length, as he journeyed, he was overtaken by a snowstorm and buried in a drift, where John, who lacked much, had this gift. He had a scald's tongue. Men have always said that it was to the honor of John that he told the tale thus, hiding nothing, seeing that some of it is against himself. Now, when all had gone, Eric looked at Scaligram, who still stood near him, ax in hand. Wherefore goest thou not, drunkard? he said. Surely that would find ale and mead in the veils or over sea. Here there is none. Hason, I would be alone. Now the great body of Scaligram shook with grief and shame, and the red blood poured up beneath his dark skin. Then he spoke in a thick voice. I did not think to live to hear such words from the lips of Eric Brideyes. They are well earned, yet it is unmanly of thee, Lord, thus to taunt one who loves thee. I would sooner die, as Swanhill said yonder thrall should die, then live to listen to such words. I have sinned against thee indeed, and because of my sin my heart is broken. Hast thou then never sinned that thou wouldst tear it living from my breast, as eagles tear a foundered horse? Think on thine own sins, Eric, and pity mine. Taunt me thus once more, or bid me go once more, and I will go indeed. I will go thus, on the edge of yonder gulf thou didst overcome me by thy naked might, and there I swore fealty to thee, Eric Brideyes. Many a year have we wandered, side by side, and, standing back to back, have struck many a blow. I am minded to do this, to stand by thee in the last great fight that draws on, and to die there with thee. I have loved no other man save thee, and I am too old to seek new lords, yet if still thou bidst me, I will go thus. Where I swore my oath to thee, there I will end it, for I will lay me down on the brink of yonder gulf, as I once lay, when thy hand was at my throat, and call out that thou art no more my lord, and I am no more thy thrall. Then I will roll into the depths beneath, and by this death of shame thou shall be freed of me, Eric Brideyes. Eric looked at the great man, and he looked long and sadly. Then he spoke, Scalagrim lamstail, thou hast a true heart. I too have sinned, and now I put away thy sin, although Gertrude is dead through thee, and I must die because of thee. Stay by me if thou wilt, and let us fall together. Then Scalagrim came to Eric, and, kneeling before him, took his hands and kissed them. Now I am once more a man, he said, and I know this. We too shall die such a great death, that it will be well to have lived to die it. And he arose and shouted, Ah-hi, ah-hi, I see the foes pass in pride, ah-hi, ah-hi, Valkyrie's ride the wind. Hear the song of the sword, white fire is aloft, aloft. Bear is the axe of the bazaar, croaky nesting ravens, flap your wings ye eagles, for bright is Mosfell's cave with blood. Flap, lap thou gray wolf, lap a loud Odin. Laugh till shake the golden tores. Hero's feet are set on bifrost, open ye hundred gates, ah-hi, ah-hi, Red runs the fray, ah-hi, ah-hi, Valkyrie's ride the wind. Then Scalagrim turned and went to clean his harness and the golden helm of Eric. Now at cold back Ghazur spoke with Swanhild. Thou hast brought the greatest shame upon me, he said, for thou hast caused me to slay a sleeping woman. Knowest thou that my own men will scarcely speak with me? I have come to this evil pass, through love of thee, that I have slayed a sleeping woman. It was not my fault that thou didst kill Ghazur. Answered Swanhild. Surely I thought it was Eric whom my sword pierced. I have not sought thy love, Ghazur, and I say this to thee. Knoweth thou wilt, and leave me alone. Now Ghazur looked at her and was minded to go, but as Swanhild knew well, she held him too fast in the net of her witcheries. I would go if I might go, answered Ghazur, but I am bound to thee for good or evil, since it is faded that I shall wed thee. Thou wilt never wed me while Eric lives, said Swanhild. Now she spoke thus truthfully and by chance, as it were, not as driving Ghazur on to slay Eric. For now that Ghazur was dead, she was in two minds as to this matter, since if she might, she still desired to take Eric to herself. But meaning that while Eric lived, she would wed no other man, but Ghazur took it otherwise. Eric shall certainly die if I may bring it about! He answered and went to speak with his men. Now all were gathered in the yard at Coldbank, and that was a great company. But their looks were heavy because of the shame that Ghazur, Spooker's son, had brought upon them by the murder of Ghazur in her sleep. Harken, comrades, said Ghazur, great shame has come upon me because of a deed that I have done unwittingly, for I aimed at the eagle Eric and I have slain the swan Ghazur. Then a certain old viking in the company, named Kettle, whom Ghazur had hired for the slaying of Eric, spoke. Man or woman, it is a knittering deed to kill folk in their sleep, Ghazur. It is murder, and no less, and small luck can be hoped for from the stroke. Now Ghazur felt that his people looked on him as cans and heavily, and knew that it would be hard to show them that he was driven to this deed against his will, and by the witchcraft of Swanhild. So as was his nature, he turned to Gael for shelter, like a fox to his hole, and spoke to them with the tongue of a lullman, for Ghazur had great skill in speech. That tale was not all true which Eric Brighteyes told you, he said. He was mad with grief, and moreover it seems that he slept, and only woke to find Ghazur to dead. It came about thus. I stood with the lady Swanhild, and was about to call aloud on Eric to arm himself and come forth and meet me face to face. Then, Lord, me thinks thou hadst never met another foe. Quote the viking Kettle, who had spoken first. When of a sudden, went on Ghazur, taking no note of Kettle's words, one clothed in white sprang from the bed and rushed on me. Then I, thinking that it was Eric, lifted sword, not to smite, but to ward him away, but the linenware met the sword and fell down dead. Then I fled, fearing lest men should wake and trap us, and that is all the tale. It was no fault of mine if Ghazur to died upon the sword. Thus he spoke, but still men looked doubtfully upon him, for his eye was the eye of a liar, and Eric, as they knew, did not lie. It is hard to find the truth between lawmen's brain and tongue, and the old viking Kettle. Eric is no lawmen, but a true man, and he sang another song. I would slay Eric indeed, for between him and me there is a blood feud, since my brother died at his hand, when, with white fire for a crook, bright eyes drove our men like sheep down the hall of Middle-Hoth. I, and swordless, slew Ospecker. Yet I say that Eric is a true man, and, whether or no, thou art true Ghazur the lawmen, that thou knowest best. Thou and Swan held the fatherless, Grower's daughter. If thou didst slay Gadruda, as thou tellest, say, how come Gadruda's blood on white fire's blade? How did it chance, Ghazur, that thou heldest white fire in thy hand, and not thy knownsword? Now I tell thee this, either thou shalt go up against Eric, and clear thyself by blows, or I'd leave thee. And he thinks there are others among this company who will do the same, for we have no wish to be partners with murderers and their wickedness. I a good word, said many who stood by, let Ghazur go up with us to Mosfell, and there stand face to face with Eric, and clear himself by blows. I ask no more, said Ghazur, we will ride tonight. But much more shall thou get, liar, quote Kettle to himself, for that hour when thou lookest once again on white fire shall be thy last. So Ghazur and Swan held, made ready to go up against Eric. That day they rode away with a great company, a hundred and one in all, and this was their plan. They sent six men with that thrall who had shown them the secret path, bidding him guide them to the mountaintop. Then when they were come thither, and heard the shouts of those who sought to gain the platform from the south, they were to watch till Eric and his folk came out from the cave, and shoot them with arrows from above, or crush them with stones. But if perchance Eric left the platform, and came to meet his foes in the narrow pass, then they must let themselves down with ropes from the height above, and, creeping after him round the rock, must smite him in the back. Moreover, in secret Ghazur promised a great reward of ten hundreds in silver to him who should kill Eric, for he did not long to stand face to face with him alone. Swan held also in secret made promise of reward to those who should bring Eric to her, bound but living, and she made them do this, to bear him down with shields and tie him with ropes. So they rode away, the seven who should climb the mountain from behind going first, and on the morrow morning they crossed the sand and came to Mosfell. End of Chapter Recording by Brett Downey Chapter 32 of Eric Brideyes. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Brett Downey. Eric Brideyes by H. Ryder Haggard. Chapter 32. How Eric and Scalagrim grew fae. Now the night came down upon Mosfell, and of all nights this was the strangest. The air was quiet and heavy, yet no rain fell. It was so silent, moreover, that did a stone slip upon the mountainside, or a horse-nay far off on the plains, the sound of it crept up the fell, and was echoed from the crags. Eric and Scalagrim sat together on the open space of rock that is before the cave, and great heaviness and fear came into their hearts so that they had no desire to sleep. He thinks the night is ghost-ridden, said Eric, and I am fae, for I grow cold, and it seems to me that one strokes my hair. It is ghost-ridden, lord, answered Scalagrim. Trolls are abroad, and the God-kind gather to see Eric die. For a while they sat in silence, then suddenly the mountain heaved up gently beneath them. Thrice it seemed to heave like a woman's breast, and left them frightened. Now the dwarf folk come from their caves, quote Scalagrim, and great deeds may be looked for, since they are not drawn to the upper earth by a little thing. Then once more they sat silent, and thick darkness came down upon the mountain, hiding the stars. Look! said Eric, of a sudden, and he pointed at Hecla. Scalagrim looked, and lo! the snowy dome of Hecla was a glow with a rosy flame like the light of dawn. Winter lights! said Lamestale, shuddering. Deathlights! answered Eric. Look again! They looked, and behold, in the rosy glow there sat three giant forms of fire, and their shapes were the shapes of women. Before them was a loom of blackness that stretched from earth to sky, and they wove at it with threads of flame. They were splendid and terrible to see. Their hair streamed behind them like meteor flames. Their eyes shone like lightning, and their breasts gleamed like the polished bucklers of the gods. They wove fiercely at the loom of blackness, and as they wove they sang. The voice of the one was as the wind whistling through the pines. The voice of the other was as the sound of rain hissing on deep waters, and the voice of the third was as the moan of the sea. They wove fearfully, and they sang loudly, but what they sang might not be known. Now the web grew, and the wolf grew, and a picture came upon the loom, a great picture written in fire. Behold, it was the semblance of a storm-awakened sea, and a giant ship fled before the gale. A dragon of war, and in the ship were piled the courses of men, and on these lay another course, as one lies upon a bed. They looked, and the face of the course grew bright. It was the face of Eric, and his head rested upon the dead heart of Scalagrim. Clinging to each other, Eric and Scalagrim saw the sight of fear that was written on the loom of the norns. They saw it for a breath. Then with a laugh like the whale of wolves, the shapes of fire sprang up and rent the web asunder. Then the first passed upward to the sky, the second southwards towards Middlehoff, but the third swept over Mosfell, so that the brightness of her flaming form shone on the rock where they sat by the cave, and the lightning of her eyes was mirrored in the burning of Scalagrim and on Eric's golden helm. He swept past, pointing downwards as she went, and low she was gone and once more darkness and silence lay upon the earth. Now this sight was seen of John the Thrall also, and he told it in his story of the deeds of Eric, where John lay hid in a secret place on Mosfell, waiting for tidings of what came to pass. For a while Eric and Scalagrim clung to each other, then Scalagrim spoke. We have seen the Valkyries, he said. Nay, answered Eric, we have seen the Norns, who are come to warn us of our doom. We shall die tomorrow. At the least, said Scalagrim, we shall not die alone. We had a goodly bed on yonder goblin ship, and all of our own slaying me thinks. It is not so ill to die thus, Lord. Not so ill, said Eric, and yet I am weary of blood and war, of glory and of my strength. Now I desire rest alone. Light fire, I can bear this darkness no longer. The marrow freezes in my bones. Fire can be seen of foes, said Scalagrim. It matters little now, said Eric. We are fave folk. So Scalagrim lighted the fire, piling much brushwood and dry turf over it, till presently it burnt up brightly, throwing a light on all the space of rock and heavy shadows against the cliff behind. They sat thus a while in the light of the flames, looking towards the deep gulf, till suddenly there came a sound as of one who climbed the gulf. Who comes now, climbing where no man may pass? cried Eric, seizing white fire and springing to his feet. Presently he sank down again with white face and staring eyes, and pointed at the edge of the cliff. And as he pointed, the neck of a man rose in the shadow above the brink, and the hands of a man grasped the rock. But there was no head on the neck. Shape of the headless man drew itself slowly over the brink. It walked slowly into the light towards the fire, then sat itself down in the glare of the flames, which shrank away from it as from a draft of wind. Pale with terror, Eric and Scalagrim looked on the headless thing and knew it. It was the wraith of the bazaarck that bright eyes had slain, the first of all the men he slew. It is my mate, Eric, whom thou didst kill years ago, and whose severed head spoke with thee. Gasp, Scalagrim. It is he, sure enough, said Eric. But where may his head be? Perchance the head will come. answered Scalagrim. He is an evil sight to see, surely. Say, Lord, shall I fall upon him, though I love not the task? Nay, Scalagrim, let him bide. He does but come to warn us of our fate. Moreover, ghosts can only be laid in one way, by the hewing off of the head and the laying of it at the thigh. But this one has no head to hew. Now as he spoke, the headless man turned his neck as though to look. Once more there came the sound of feet, and low, men marched in from the darkness on either side. Eric and Scalagrim looked up and knew them. They were those of Ospeker's folk whom they had slain on horsehead heights. All their wounds were on them, and in front of them marched Mord, Ospeker's son. The ghosts gazed upon Eric and Scalagrim with cold, dead eyes, and they too sat down by the fire. Now once more there came the sound of feet, and from every side men poured in who had died at the hands of Eric and Scalagrim. First came those who fell on that ship of Ospekers, which Eric sank by Westmans. Then the crew of the raven who had perished upon the seapath. Even as the man died so did each ghost come. Some had been drowned in their harness-dripped water. Some had died of spear thrusts, and the spears were yet fixed in their breasts. Some had fallen beneath the flash of white fire and the weight of the ax of Scalagrim, and there they sat, looking at their wide wounds. Then came more and more. There were those whom Eric and Scalagrim had slain upon the seas, those who had fallen before them in the English wars, and all that company who had been drowned in the waters of the Pentland Firth when the witchcraft of Swanhild had brought the Gejuda to her wreck. Now here we have a goodly crew, said Eric at length. Is it done, thinkest thou, or will Mosfell send forth more dead? As he spoke the wraith of a grey-headed man drew near. He had but one arm, for the other was hewn from him, and the bernie on his left side was red with blood. Welcome, Earl Atlye! cried Eric. Sit thou over against me, who to-morrow shall be with thee. The ghost of the Earl seated itself and looked on Eric with sad eyes, but it spake never a word. Then came another company, and at their heads stalked Black Ospeker. These be they who died at Middlehoff, cried Eric. Welcome, Ospeker! That marriage-feast of thine went ill. Now he thinks we are overdone with trolls, said Scalagrim. But see, here come more. As he spoke, Hall of Lithdale came, and with him coal the half-witted, and others. And so it went till all the men whom Eric and Scalagrim had slain, or who had died because of them, or at their side, were gathered in deep ranks before them. Now it is surely done, said Eric. There is yet a space, said Scalagrim, pointing to the other side of the fire. And hell holds many dead. Even as the words left his lips, there came a noise of the galloping of horses hooves, and one clad in white rode up. It was a woman, for her golden hair flowed down about her white arms. Then she slid from the horse and stood in the light of the fire, and behold, her white robe was red with blood, a great sword was set in her heart, and the face and eyes were the face and eyes of Gajuda the Fair, and the horse she rode was Blackmayne, that Eric had slain. Now when bright eyes saw her, he gave a great cry. Greetings, sweet, he said. I am no longer afraid, since thou comest to bear me company. Thou art dear to my sight, I, even in yon death-sheet. Being sweet, my May, I laid thee stiff and cold in the earth and middle-hoff, but, like a loving wife, thou hast burst thy bonds, and art come to save me from the grip of trolls. Thou art welcome, Gajuda, Asman's daughter. Come, wife, sit thou at my side. The ghost of Gajuda spake no word. She walked through the fire towards them, and the flames went out beneath her feet, to burn up again when she had passed. Then she sat down over against Eric, and looked on him with wide and tender eyes. Thrice he stretched out his arms to clasp her, but Thrice their strength left him, and they fell back to his side. It was as though they struck a wall of ice and were numbed by the bitter cold. Look! Here are more! groaned Scalagrim. Then Eric looked, and lo! The empty space to the left of the fire was filled with shadowy shapes, like the shapes of mist. Amongst them was Ghazur, Aspeker's son, and many a man of his company. Two was Swanhild, Groa's daughter, and a toad nestled in her breast. She looked with wide eyes upon the eyes of dead Gajuda's ghost, that seemed not to see her, and a stare of fear was set on her lovely face. Nor was this all, for there, before the shadowy throng, stood two great shapes clad in their harness, and one was the shape of Eric, and one the shape of Scalagrim. Thus, being yet alive, did these two look upon their own wraiths. Then Eric and Scalagrim cried out aloud, and their brains swam, and their senses left them, so that they swooned. When they opened their eyes, and life came back to them, the fire was dead, and it was day. Nor was there any sign of that company which had been gathered on the rock before them. Scalagrim, quote Eric, it seems that I have dreamed a strange dream, a most strange dream of gnawrens and trolls. Tell me thy dream, Lord, said Scalagrim. So Eric told all the vision, and the bazaarck listened in silence. It was no dream, Lord, said Scalagrim, for I myself have seen the same things. Now this is in my mind, that Yonder Sun is the last that we shall see, for we have beheld the death shadows. All those who were gathered here last night wait to welcome us upon Bifrost Bridge, and the mist shapes who sat there amongst whom our wraiths were numbered are the shapes of those who shall die in the great fight to-day, for days are fled, and we are sped. I would not have it otherwise, said Eric. We have been greatly honored of the gods, and of the ghostkind that are around us and above us. Now let us make ready to die as becomes men who have never turned back to blow, for the end of the story should fit the beginning, and of us there is a tale to tell. A good word, Lord, answered Scalagrim. I have struck few strokes to be shamed of, and I do not fear to tread Bifrost Bridge in thy company. Now we will wash ourselves and eat, so that our strength may be whole in us. So they washed themselves with water and ate merrily, and for the first time for many months Eric was merry, where now that the end was at hand his heart grew light within him. And when they had put the desire of food from them, and buckled on their harness, they looked out from their mountain height, and saw a cloud of dust rise in the desert plain of black sand beneath, and through it the sheen of spears. Here comes those of whom, if there is truth in visions, some few shall never go back again, said Eric. Now, what council hast thou, Scalagrim? Where shall we meet them? Here on the space of rock, or yonder in the deep way of the cliff? My council is that we meet them here, said Scalagrim, and cut them down one by one as they try to turn the rock. They can scarcely come at us to slay us here so long as our arms have strength to smite. Yet they will come, though I know not how, answered Eric, for I am sure of this, that our death lies before us. After then we shall meet them. Now the cloud of dust drew nearer, and they saw that this was a great company which came up against them. At the foot of the fell the men stayed and rested a while, and it was not till afternoon that they began to climb the mountain. Night will be at hand before the game is played, said Scalagrim. See, they climb slowly, saving their strength, and yonder among them is swan-hilled in a purple cloak. Aye, night will be at hand, Scalagrim, a last long night. A hundred to two, the odds are heavy, yet some shall wish them heavier. Now let us bind on our helms. Meanwhile Ghazour and his folk crept up the paths from below. Now that thrawl who knew the secret way had gone on with six chosen men, and already they climbed the watercourse and drew near to the flat crest of the fell. But Eric and Scalagrim knew nothing of this, so they sat down by the turning place that is over the gulf and waited, singing of the taking of the raven, and of the slaying and the stead at Middlehoff, and telling tales of deeds that they had done. And the thrawl and his six men climbed on till at length they gained the crest of the fell, and, looking over, saw Eric and Scalagrim beneath them. The birds are in the snare and hark! They sing, said the thrawl, now bring rocks and be silent. But Ghazour and his people, having learned that Eric and Scalagrim were alone upon the mountain, pushed on. We have not much to fear from two men, said Ghazour. What we shall learn presently, answered Swanhild. I tell thee this, that I saw strange sights last night, though I did not sleep. I may sleep little now that Kudruta is dead, for that which I saw in her eyes haunts me. Then they went on, and the face of Ghazour grew white with fear. End of chapter, recording by Brett Downey. Now the thrawl and those with him on the crest of the fell, heard the murmur of the company of Ghazour and Swanhild, as they won the mountainside, though they could not see them because of the rocks. Now it is time to begin and knock these birds from their perch, said the thrawl, for that is an awkward corner for our folk to turn with white fire and the axe of Scalagrim waiting on the farther side. So he balanced a great stone, as heavy as three men could lift, on the brow of the rock, and aimed it. Then he pushed it and let it go. It smote the platform beneath with a crash, two fathoms behind the spot where Eric and Scalagrim sat. Then it flew into the air, and, just as bright eyes turned around at the sound, it struck the wings of his helm, and, bursting the straps, tore the golden helm piece from his head, and carried it away into the gulf beneath. Scalagrim looked up and saw what had come about. They have gained the crest of the fell, he cried. Now we must fly into the cave, or down the narrow way and hold it. Down the narrow way, then, said Eric, and while rocks, spears, and arrows rushed between and around them, they stepped on to the stone and won the path beyond. It was clear, for Gazour's folk had not yet come, and they ran nearly to the mouth of it, where there was a bend in the way, and stood there side by side. Now what's that death-store, then, Lord? said Scalagrim. Headpiece is not head, answered Eric, but I wonder how they won the crest of the fell. I have never heard tell of any path by which it might be gained. There they are at the least, said Scalagrim. Now this is my will, that thou shouldst take my helm. I am bizarre, and put little trust in harness, 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, and after a while Gazour, Swanhild, and the men of their following, turned the corner of the narrow way, and lo, there before them, eye within three paces of them, stood Eric and Scalagrim shoulder to shoulder, and the light poured down upon them from above. They were terrible to see, and the light shone brightly on Eric's golden hair, and white fire's flashing blade, and the shadows lay dark on the black helm of Scalagrim, and in the fierce black eyes beneath. Back surged Gazour and those with him, Scalagrim would have sprung upon them, but Eric caught him by the arm, saying, A truce to thy berserk ways, rush not, and move not, let us stand here till they overwhelm us. Now those behind Gazour cried out to know what ailed them that they pushed back. Only this, said Gazour, that Eric's bright eyes and Scalagrim lamestail stand like two gray wolves and hold the narrow way. Now we shall have the fight worth telling of, quote Kettle the Viking. On, Gazour, auspeck her son, and cut them down. Hold, said Swanhild, I will speak with Eric first. And together, with Gazour and Kettle, 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, those are behind and before thee, thou art trapped, and hast little chance of life. Yield thee, I say, with thy black wolfhound, sober chance thou mayst 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 lest, perchance, is it the way of Scalagrim. 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. Harkens, 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 Hecla'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, I, and all the company of those who shall die today. Thou was there, Ghazour the murderer, Ospecker's son, thou was there, Swanhild the witch, Groha's daughter, thou was there, Kettle viking, with many another man, and there were we too also. Valkyries have kissed us, and death draws near, therefore talk no more, but come and make an end. Greeting, Ghazour, thou woman murderer, draw an eye, draw an eye, out soared, up shield, and on, thou son of Ospecker. Swanhild spoke no more, and Ghazour had no word. On Ghazour, Eric calls thee, quote Kettle viking, but Ghazour slunk back, not forward. Then Kettle 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 plane. Eric laughed aloud, and Scaligram 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 who will stand face to face with a bazaarck and a helmless man? And he tossed Whitefire high into the air, and caught it by the hilt. Then Kettle, and another man of his following, sprang forward with an oath, and their axes thundered loud on the shields of Eric and of Scaligram. But Whitefire flickered up, and the acts of Scaligram 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 gray wolf small. Then Swanhilled last the folk with bitter words, and two of them sprang on. They sprang on like hounds upon a deer at bay, and they rolled back as gored hounds roll from the deer's horns. More men, more men, cried Eric. Here lie but four, and a hundred press behind. Now he shall win great honor who lays bright eyes low, and brings down the helm of Scaligram. Again, two came on, but they found no luck, for presently they were also down upon the bodies of those who went before. Now none could be found to come up against the pair, for they fought like Balder and Thor, and none could touch them, and no harness might stand the weight of their blows that shore through shield and helm and bernie, deep to the bone beneath. Then Eric and Scaligram leaned upon their weapons, and mocked their foes, while these cursed, and tore their beards with rage and shame. Now it is to be told that when the thrall and those with him saw Eric and Scaligram 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 is under the crest of the fell. Thence, though they could see nothing, they could hear the clang of blows and the shouts of those who fought and fell. Aye, and the mocking of Eric and Scaligram. Now it goes thus, said the thrall, who was a cunning man. Eric and Scaligram hold the narrow way, and none can stand against them. This then is my reed, that we turn the rock and take them in the back. His fellows thought this a good saying, and one by one they stood upon the little rock and won the narrow way. They crept along this till they were near to Eric and Scaligram. Now swan-hilled, looking up, saw them, and started. Scaligram noted this and glanced over his shoulder, and that not too soon, for, as he looked, the thrall looked at sword to smite the head of Eric, with a shout of Back to back! The bazaar swung round, and ere ever the sword might fall, his axe was buried deep in the thrall's breast. Now we must cut our path through them, said Scaligram, and if maybe win the space that is before the cave. Keep them off in front, and I will mine these mannequins. Now Gizours folk, seeing what had come about, took heart and fell upon Eric with a rush, and those who were with the dead thrall rushed at Scaligram, and there began such a fight as has not been known in Iceland. But the way was so narrow that scarce more than one man could come to each of them at a time, and so fierce and true were the blows of Eric and Scaligram, that of those who came on, few went back. Down they fell, and where they fell they died, and for every man who died, Eric and Scaligram won a pace towards the point of rock. White fire flamed so swift, and swept so wide that it seemed to swan-hilled, watching, as though three swords were aloft at once, and the axe of Scaligram thundered down like the axe of a woodsman against a tree, and those groaned, on whom it fell as groans of falling tree. Now the shields of these twain were hewn through and through, and cast away, and their blood ran from many wounds. Still their life was whole in them, and they plied axe and sword with both hands. And ever men fell, and ever, fighting hard, they drew nearer to the point of rock. Now it was one, and now all the company that came with the thrall from over the mountain brow were dead, or sorely wounded at the hands of Black Scaligram. So one springs on Eric, and Gazooor creeps behind him. White fire leaps to meet the man, and does not leap in vain, but Gazooor smites a coward blow at Eric's uncovered head, and wounds him sorely so that he falls to his knee. Now I am smitten to death, Scaligram, cries Eric, win the rock, and leave me! Yet he rises from his knee. Then Scaligram 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 leaps alone upon the foe. They break before the bazaarck rush. They break, they fall, they are cloven by bazaarck axe and trodden of bazaarck feet. They roll back, leaving the way clear, save for the dead. Then Scaligram follows bright eyes to the rock. Now Eric wipes the gore from his eyes and sees. Then, slowly, and with a reeling brain, he steps down upon the giddy point. He goes near to falling, yet does not fall. For now he lies upon the open space, and creeps on hands and knees to the rock wall that is by the cave, and sits, resting his back against it, white fire on his knee. Before he is there, Scaligram staggers to his side with a rush. "'Now we have time to breathe, Lord,' he gasps. "'See, here is water,' he takes a pitcher that stands by and gives Eric to drink from the pool, then drinks himself and pours the rest of the water on Eric's wound. Then new life comes to them, and they both stand on their feet and win back their breath. "'We have not done so badly,' says Scaligram. "'And we are still a match for one or two. See, they come. Say, where shall we meet them, Lord?' "'Here,' quote Eric, "'I cannot stand well upon my legs without the help of the rock. Now I am all unmeat for fight.' "'Yet shall this last stand of thine be sung of,' says Scaligram. Now finding none to stay them, the men of Ghazur climb one by one upon the rock and win the space that is beyond. Now Swanhild goes, first of all, because she knows well that Eric will not harm her. And after her comes Ghazur and the others. But many do not come, for they will lift sword no more. Now Swanhild draws near and looks on Eric and mocks him in the fierceness of her heart and the rage of her wolf love. "'Now,' she says, "'now our bright eyes dim eyes. What weepest thou, Eric?' "'I, Swanhild,' he answered, "'I weep tears of blood for those whom thou hast brought to doom.' He draws nearer and speaks low to him. "'Hark, in Eric, yield thee! Thou hast done enough for honour, and thou art not smitten to the death of yonder cowardly hound. Yield, and I will nurse thee back to health, and bear 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 truth is plighted 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 go to 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 I have promised thee, and as I promised Gajuda the fair.' "'So shall I the more quickly find Gajuda and lose sight of thy evil face,' swanhild the harlot, swanhild the murderous, swanhild the witch, for I know this, that thou shalt not escape. My doom draws on also, and haunted and accursed shalt thou be forever. "'Fairly well, swanhild, we shall meet no more, and the hour comes when thou shalt grieve that thou wasst ever born.' Now swanhild turned and called to the folk, "'Come, cut down these outlaw rogues and make an end. Come, cut them down, for night draws on.' Then once more the men of Ghazur closed in upon them. Eric smote thrice, and thrice the blow went home. Then he could smite no more, for his strength was spent, with toil and wounds, and he sank upon the ground. For a while Scalagrim stood over him like a she-bear or her young, and held the mob at bay. Then Ghazur, watching, cast a spirit, Eric. It entered his side through a cleft in his bernie, and pierced him deep. "'I am sped, Scalagrim lamestail,' cried Eric in a loud voice, and all men drew back to see giant bright eyes die. Now his head fell against the rock, and his eyes closed. Then Scalagrim, stooping, drew out the spear, and kissed Eric on the forehead. "'Pay well, Eric, bright eyes,' he said. "'Ice-land shall never see such another man, and few have died so great a death.' "'Terry a while, Lord. Terry a while. I come. I come.' Then crying, "'Eric! Eric!' The bazaar fit took him, and once more, and for the last time, Scalagrim rushed, screaming upon the foe, and once more they rolled to the earth before him. To and fro he rushed, dealing great blows, and ever as he went, they stabbed and cut, and thrust at his side and back, for they dared not stand before him, till he bled from a hundred wounds. Now having slain three more men, and wounded two others, Scalagrim might know more. He stood a moment, swaying, to and fro, then let his axe drop. To his arms high above him, and with one loud cry of, "'Eric!' He fell, as a rock falls, dead upon the dead. But Eric was not yet gone. He opened his eyes, and saw the death of Scalagrim, and smiled. "'Well-ended, Lamb's tale,' he said in a faint voice. "'Low!' cried Gizour. "'Yon outlawed Hound still lives. Now I will do a needful task, and make an end of him, and so shall Osspecker's sword come back to Osspecker's son. "'Thou art wondrous brave now that the bear lies dying,' said Swan-hilled. Now it seemed that Eric heard the words, for suddenly his might came back 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 round his head, till it shines like a wheel of fire. "'Thy service is done, and thou art clean of Gadruda's blood. Go back to those who forge thee!' Gizour dies cries, and casts whitefire from him towards the gulf. Away speeds the great blade, lashing like lightning through the rays of the setting sun, and behold, as men watch, it is gone, gone in mid-air. Since that day no such sword as whitefire has ever been known in Iceland. "'Now slay thou me, Gizour,' says the dying Eric. Gizour comes on with little eagerness, and Eric cries aloud. "'Swordless I slew thy father, swordless, shieldless, and wounded to the death, I will yet slay thee,' Gizour the murderer. And with a loud cry he staggered towards him. Gizour smites him with his sword, and Eric does not stay. And while men wait and wonder, bright eyes sweeps him into his great arms. Eye sweeps him up, lifts him from the ground, and reels on. Eric reels on to the brink of the gulf. Gizour sees his purpose, struggles and shrieks aloud. But the strength of the dying Eric is more than the strength of Gizour. Now bright eyes stands on the dizzy edge, and the light of the passing sun flames about his head. And now, bearing Gizour with him, he hurls himself out into the gulf, and lo, the sun sinks. Men stand wondering, but Swanhill cries aloud. "'Nobly done, Eric. Nobly done. So I would have seen thee die. Who of all men was the first?' This then was the end of Eric bright eyes the unlucky. Who of all warriors 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, Swanhill caused the body of Eric to be searched for in the cleft, and there they found it, floating in water and with the dead Gizour yet clasped in its bare grip. Then she cleansed it, and clothed it again in its rent armor, and bound on the hell shoes, and it was carried on horses to the seaside, and with it were born the bodies of Scalagrim lamestail, the bazaar, Eric's thrall, and of all those men whom they had slain in the last great fight on Mosfell, that is now named Ericsfell. Then Swanhill drew her long dragon of war in which she had come from Orkneys, from its shed over against the West Meniles, and in the center of the 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 Eric bright eyes, and the breast of black Scalagrim the bazaar was his pillow, and the breast of Gizour, Osperger's son, was his footrest. Then she caused the sails to be hoisted, and went alone aboard the long ship, 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 the land, she cut the cable with her own hand, and the ship left forward like a thing alive, and rushed out into the red light of the sunset towards the open sea. Now ever the gale freshened, and folk standing on Westmen Heights saw the long ship plunge past, dipping her prow beneath the waves, and sending the water in a rain of spray over the living Swanhild, over the dead Eric, and those he lay upon. And by the head of Eric bright eyes, her hair streaming on the wind, stood Swanhild the witch, clad in her purple cloak, and with rings of gold about her throat and arms. She stood by Eric's head, swaying with the rush of the ship, and singing so sweet and wild a song that men grew weak who heard it. Now as the people watched, two white swans came down from the clouds, and 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 over her. The gale grew fierce, and fiercer yet, the darkness gathered deep upon the raging sea. Now that ship was seen no more, and the death song of Swanhild, as she passed to Doom, was never heard again. For swans and ship, and Swanhild, and dead Eric and his dead foes, were lost 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 Bright-Eyes, Thorgrimmer's son, of Gerdrude the Fair, Asman's daughter, of Swanhild the fatherless, Atlae's wife, and of Unand, named Scalagrim Lamstail, the bazaar. Eric's thrall, all of whom lived and died before Thangbrand, Willibald's son, preached the white Christ in Iceland. End of chapter and end of Eric Bright-Eyes by H. Ryder Haggard, recording by Brett Downey.