looked up and round, and the light of his eyes was as the light of a
sword. Men marvelled at his greatness and his wonderful beauty, and to
Gudruda he seemed like a God.

"Here I see faces that are known to me," said Eric. "Greetings,
comrades!"

"Greetings, Brighteyes!" shouted the Middalhof folk and the company of
Swanhild; but the carles of Ospakar laid hand on sword--they too knew
Eric. For still all men loved Eric, and the people of his quarter were
proud of the deeds he had done oversea.

"Greeting, Björn, Asmund's son!" quoth Eric. "Greeting, Ospakar
Blacktooth! Greeting, Swanhild the Fatherless, Atli's witch-wife--Groa's
witch-bairn! Greeting, Hall of Lithdale, Hall the liar--Hall who cut
the grapnel-chain! And to thee, sweet Bride, to thee Gudruda the Fair,
greeting!"

Now Björn spoke: "I will take no greeting from a shamed and outlawed
man. Get thee gone, Eric Brighteyes, and take thy wolf-hound with thee,
lest thou bidest here stiff and cold."

"Speak not so loud, rat, lest hound's fang worry thee!" growled
Skallagrim.

But Eric laughed aloud and cried--

"Words must be said, and perchance men shall die, ere ever I leave this
hall, Björn!"