“They might do worse,” said Asmund, “for they are a proper pair, and it seems to me that each was born for each.”
“Then all goes well. Still, it is a pity to see so fair a maid cast like rotten bait upon the waters to hook this troutlet of a yeoman. Thou hast enemies, Asmund; thou art too prosperous, and there are many who hate thee for thy state and wealth. Were it not wise to use this girl of thine to build a wall about thee against the evil day?”
“I have been more wont, housekeeper, to trust to my own arm than to bought friends. But tell me, for at the least thou art far-seeing, how may this be done? As things are, though I spoke roughly to him last night, I am inclined to let Eric Brighteyes take Gudruda. I have always loved the lad, and he will go far.”
“Listen, Asmund! Surely thou hast heard of Ospakar Blacktooth—the priest who dwells in the north?”
“Ay, I have heard of him, and I know him; there is no man like him for ugliness, or strength, or wealth and power. We sailed together on a viking cruise many years ago, and he did things at which my blood turned, and in those days I had no chicken heart.”
“With time men change their temper. Unless I am mistaken, this Ospakar wishes above all to have Gudruda in marriage, for, now that everything is his, this alone is left for him to ask—the fairest woman in Iceland as a housewife. Think then, with Ospakar for a son-in-law, who is there that can stand against thee?”
“I am not so sure of this matter, nor do I altogether trust thee, Groa. Of a truth it seems to me that thou hast some stake upon the race. This Ospakar is evil and hideous. It were a shame to give Gudruda over to him when she looks elsewhere. Knowest thou that I swore to love and cherish her, and how runs this with my oath? If Eric is not too rich, yet he is of good birth and kin, and, moreover, a man of men. If he take her good will come of it.”
“It is like thee, Asmund, always to mistrust those who spend their days in plotting for thy weal. Do as thou wilt: let Eric take this treasure of thine—for whom earls would give their state—and live to rue it. But I say this: if he have thy leave to roam here with his dove the matter will soon grow, for these two sicken each to each, and young blood is hot and ill at waiting, and it is not always snow-time. So betroth her or let him go. And now I have said.”
“Thy tongue runs too fast. The man is quite unproved and I will try him. To-morrow I will warn him from my door; then things shall go as they are fated. And now peace, for I weary of thy talk, and, moreover, it is false; for thou lackest one thing—a little honesty to season all thy craft. What fee has Ospakar paid thee, I wonder. Thou at least hadst never refused the gold ring to-night, for thou wouldst do much for gold.”
“And more for love, and most of all for hate,” Groa said, and laughed aloud; nor did they speak more on this matter that night.
Now, early in the morning Asmund rose, and, going to the hall, awoke Eric, who slept by the centre hearth, saying that he would talk with him without. Then Eric followed him to the back of the hall.
“Say now, Eric,” he said, when they stood in the grey light outside the house, “who was it taught thee that kisses keep out the cold on snowy days?”
Now Eric reddened to his yellow hair, but he answered: “Who was it told thee, lord, that I tried this medicine?”
“The snow hides much, but there are eyes that can pierce the snow. Nay, more, thou wast seen, and there’s an end. Now know this—I like thee well, but Gudruda is not for thee; she is far above thee, who art but a deedless yeoman.”
“Then I love to no end,” said Eric; “I long for one thing only, and that is Gudruda. It was in my mind to ask her in marriage of thee to-day.”
“Then, lad, thou hast thy answer before thou askest. Be sure of one thing: if but once again I find thee alone with Gudruda, it is my axe shall kiss thee and not her lips.”
“That may yet be put to the proof, lord,” said Eric, and turned to seek his horse, when suddenly Gudruda came and stood between them, and his heart leapt at the sight of her.
“Listen, Gudruda,” Eric said. “This is thy father’s word: that we two speak together no more.”
“Then it is an ill saying for us,” said Gudruda, laying her hand upon her breast.
“Saying good or ill, so it surely is, girl,” answered Asmund. “No more shalt thou go a-kissing, in the snow or in the flowers.”
“Now I seem to hear Swanhild’s voice,” she said. “Well, such things have happened to better folk, and a father’s wish is to a maid what the wind is to the grass. Still, the sun is behind the cloud and it will shine again some day. Till then, Eric, fare thee well!”
“It is not thy will, lord,” said Eric, “that I should come to thy Yule-feast as thou hast asked me these ten years past?”
Now Asmund grew wroth, and pointed with his hand towards the great Golden Falls that thunder down the mountain named Stonefell that is behind Middalhof, and there are no greater water-falls in Iceland.
“A man may take two roads, Eric, from Coldback to Middalhof, one by the bridle-path over Coldback and the other down Golden Falls; but I never knew traveller to choose this way. Now, I bid thee to my feast by the path over Golden Falls; and, if thou comest that way, I promise thee this: if thou livest I will greet thee well, and if I find thee dead in the great pool I will bind on thy Hell-shoes and lay thee to earth neighbourly fashion. But if thou comest by any other path, then my thralls shall cut thee down at my door.” And he stroked his beard and laughed.
Now Asmund spoke thus mockingly because he did not think it possible that any man should try the path of the Golden Falls.
Eric smiled and said, “I hold thee to thy word, lord; perhaps I shall be thy guest at Yule.”
But Gudruda heard the thunder of the mighty Falls as the wind turned, and cried “Nay, nay—it were thy death!”
Then Eric finds his horse and rides away across the snow.
Now it must be told of Koll the Half-witted that at length he came to Swinefell in the north, having journeyed hard across the snow. Here Ospakar Blacktooth had his great hall, in which day by day a hundred men sat down to meat. Now Koll entered the hall when Ospakar was at supper, and looked at him with big eyes, for he had never seen so wonderful a man. He was huge in stature—his hair was black, and black his beard, and on his lower lip there lay a great black fang. His eyes were small and narrow, but his cheekbones were set wide apart and high, like those of a horse. Koll thought him an ill man to deal with and half a troll,[*] and grew afraid of his errand, since in Koll’s half-wittedness there was much cunning—for it was a cloak in which he wrapped himself. But as Ospakar sat in the high seat, clothed in a purple robe, with his sword Whitefire on his knee, he saw Koll, and called out in a great voice:
[*] An able-bodied Goblin.
“Who is this red fox that creeps into my earth?”
For, to look at, Koll was very like a fox.
“My name is Koll the Half-witted, Groa’s thrall, lord. Am I welcome here?” he answered.
“That is as it may be. Why do they call thee half-witted?”
“Because I love not work overmuch, lord.”
“Then all my thralls are fellow to thee. Say, what brings thee here?”
“This lord. It was told among men down in the south that thou wouldst give a good gift to him who should discover to thee the fairest maid in Iceland. So I asked leave of my mistress to come on a journey and tell thee of her.”
“Then a lie was