“I have no tidings,” said Gudruda.
“Then here is one who brings them.”
Now for the first time Gudruda the Fair saw Hall of Lithdale. Up she sprang. “Thou hast tidings of Eric, Hall? Ah! thou art welcome, for no tidings have come of him for many a month. Speak on,” and she pressed her hand against her heart and leaned towards him.
“My tidings are ill, lady.”
“Is Eric dead? Say not that my love is dead!”
“He is worse than dead,” said Hall. “He is shamed.”
“There thou liest, Hall,” she answered. “Shame and Eric are things apart.”
“Mayst thou think so when thou hast heard my tale, lady,” said Hall, “for I am sad at heart to speak it of one who was my mate.”
“Speak on, I say,” answered Gudruda, in such a voice that Hall shrank from her. “Speak on; but of this I warn thee: that if in one word thou liest, that shall be thy death when Eric comes.”
Now Hall was afraid, thinking of the axe of Skallagrim. Still, he might not go back upon his word. So he began at the beginning, telling the story of how he was wounded in the fight with Ospakar’s ships and left Farey isles, and how he came thence to Scotland and sat in Atli’s hall on Orkneys. Then he told how the Gudruda was wrecked on Straumey, and, of all aboard, Eric and Skallagrim alone were saved because of Swanhild’s dream.