was I to blame in it? Did not Björn thrust the cloven shield before my
feet, and thus give me into the hand of Ospakar? Did he not afterwards
smite at me from behind, and would he not have slain me if Skallagrim
had not caught the blow? Was I, then, to blame if I smote back and if
the sword flew home? Wilt thou let the needful deed rise up against our
love? Speak, Gudruda!"

"Talk no more of love to me, Eric," she answered; "the blood of Björn
has blotted out our love: it cries to me for vengeance. How may I speak
of love with him who slew my brother? Listen!" she went on, looking on
him sidelong, as one who wished to look and yet not seem to see: "here
thou must hide an hour, and, since thou wilt not sit in silence, speak
no tender words to me, for it is not fitting; but tell me of those
deeds thou didst in the south lands over sea, before thou wentest to woo
Swanhild and camest hither to kill my brother. For till then thou wast
mine--till then I loved thee--who now love thee not. Therefore I would
hear of the deeds of that Eric whom once I loved, before he became as
one dead to me."

"Heavy words, lady," said Eric--"words to make death easy."

"Speak not so," she said; "it is unmanly thus to work upon my fears.
Tell me those tidings of which I ask."

So Eric told her all his deeds, though he showed small boastfulness
about them. He told her how he had smitten the war-dragons of Ospakar,
how he had boarded the Raven and with Skallagrim slain those who sailed
in her. He told her also of his deeds in Ireland, and of how he took the
viking ships and came to London town.