“Who passes there?”
“I, Gudruda, Asmund’s daughter.”
The form came nearer; now Swanhild could hear the snorting of a horse, and now a man leapt from it, and that man was Eric Brighteyes.
“Is it thou indeed, Gudruda!” he said with a laugh, and his great shape showed darkly on the snow mist.
“Oh, is it thou, Eric?” she answered. “I was never more joyed to see thee; for of a truth thou dost come in a good hour. A little while and I had seen thee no more, for my eyes grow heavy with the death-sleep.”
“Nay, say not so. Art lost, then? Why, so am I. I came out to seek three horses that are strayed, and was overtaken by the snow. May they dwell in Odin’s stables, for they have led me to thee. Art thou cold, Gudruda?”
“But a little, Eric. Yea, there is place for thee here on the rock.”
So he sat down by her on the stone, and Swanhild crept nearer; for now all weariness had left her. But still the snow fell thick.
“It comes into my mind that we two shall die here,” said Gudruda presently.
“Thinkest thou so?” he answered. “Well, I will say this, that I ask no better end.”
“It is a bad end for thee, Eric: to be choked in snow, and with all thy deeds to do.”
“It is a good end, Gudruda, to die at thy side, for so I shall die happy; but I grieve for thee.”
“Grieve not for me, Brighteyes, worse things might befall.”
He drew nearer to her, and now he put his arms about her and clasped her to his bosom; nor did she say him nay. Swanhild saw and lifted herself up behind them, but for a while she heard nothing but the beating of her heart.
“Listen, Gudruda,” Eric said at last. “Death draws near to us, and before it comes I would speak to thee, if speak I may.”
“Speak on,” she whispers from his breast.
“This I would say, then: that I love thee, and that I ask no better fate than to die in thy arms.”
“First shalt thou see me die in thine, Eric.”
“Be sure, if that is so, I shall not tarry for long. Oh! Gudruda, since I was a child I have loved thee with a mighty love, and now thou art all to me. Better to die thus than to live without thee. Speak, then, while there is time.”
“I will not hide from thee, Eric, that thy words are sweet in my ears.”
And now Gudruda sobs and the tears fall fast from her dark eyes.
“Nay, weep not. Dost thou, then, love me?”
“Ay, sure enough, Eric.”
“Then kiss me before we pass. A man should not die thus, and yet men have died worse.”
And so these two kissed, for the first time, out in the snow on Coldback, and that first kiss was long and sweet.
Swanhild heard and her blood seethed within her as water seethes in a boiling spring when the fires wake beneath. She put her hand to her kirtle and gripped the knife at her side. She half drew it, then drove it back.
“Cold kills as sure as steel,” she said in her heart. “If I slay her I cannot save myself or him. Let us die in peace, and let the snow cover up our troubling.” And once more she listened.
“Ah, sweet,” said Eric, “even in the midst of death there is hope of life. Swear to me, then, that if by chance we live thou wilt love me always as thou lovest me now.”
“Ay, Eric, I swear that and readily.”
“And swear, come what may, that thou wilt wed no man but me.”
“I swear, if thou dost remain true to me, that I will wed none but thee, Eric.”
“Then I am sure of thee.”
“Boast not overmuch, Eric: if thou dost live thy days are all before thee, and with times come trials.”
Now the snow whirled down faster and more thick, till these two, clasped heart to heart, were but a heap of white, and all white was the horse, and Swanhild was nearly buried.
“Where go we when we die, Eric?” said Gudruda; “in Odin’s house there is no place for maids, and how shall my feet fare without thee?”
“Nay, sweet, my May, Valhalla shuts its gates to me, a deedless man; up Bifrost’s rainbow bridge I may not travel, for I do not die with byrnie on breast and sword aloft. To Hela shall we go, and hand in hand.”
“Art thou sure, Eric, that men find these abodes? To say sooth, at times I misdoubt me of them.”
“I am not so sure but that I also doubt. Still, I know this: that where thou goest there I shall be, Gudruda.”
“Then things are well, and well work the Norns.[*] Still, Eric, of a sudden I grow fey: for it comes upon me that I shall not die to-night, but that, nevertheless, I shall die with thy arms about me, and at thy side. There, I see it on the snow! I lie by thee, sleeping, and one comes with hands outstretched and sleep falls from them like a mist—by Freya, it is Swanhild’s self! Oh! it is gone.”
[*] The Northern Fates.
“It was nothing, Gudruda, but a vision of the snow—an untimely dream that comes before the sleep. I grow cold and my eyes are heavy; kiss me once again.”
“It was no dream, Eric, and ever I doubt me of Swanhild, for I think she loves thee also, and she is fair and my enemy,” says Gudruda, laying her snow-cold lips on his lips. “Oh, Eric, awake! awake! See, the snow is done.”
He stumbled to his feet and looked forth. Lo! out across the sky flared the wild Northern fires, throwing light upon the darkness.
“Now it seems that I know the land,” said Eric. “Look: yonder are Golden Falls, though we did not hear them because of the snow; and there, out at sea, loom the Westmans; and that dark thing is the Temple Hof, and behind it stands the stead. We are saved, Gudruda, and thus far indeed thou wast fey. Now rise, ere thy limbs stiffen, and I will set thee on the horse, if he still can run, and lead thee down to Middalhof before the witchlights fail us.”
“So it shall be, Eric.”
Now he led Gudruda to the horse—that, seeing its master, snorted and shook the snow from its coat, for it was not frozen—and set her on the saddle, and put his arm about her waist, and they passed slowly through the deep snow. And Swanhild, too, crept from her place, for her burning rage had kept the life in her, and followed after them. Many times she fell, and once she was nearly swallowed in a drift of snow and cried out in her fear.
“Who called aloud?” said Eric, turning; “I thought I heard a voice.”
“Nay,” answers Gudruda, “it was but a night-hawk screaming.”
Now Swanhild lay quiet in the drift, but she said in her heart:
“Ay, a night-hawk that shall tear out those dark eyes of thine, mine enemy!”
The two go