“Herein I see witch-work,” said Gudruda.
Then Hall told that Eric became Swanhild’s love, but of the other tale which Swanhild had whispered to Atli he said nothing. For he knew that Gudruda would not believe this, and, moreover, if it were so, Swanhild had not sent the token which he should give.
“It may well be,” said Gudruda, proudly; “Swanhild is fair and light of mind. Perchance she led Brighteyes into this snare.” But, though she spoke thus, bitter jealousy and anger burned in her breast and she remembered the sight which she had seen when Eric and Swanhild met on the morn of Atli’s wedding.
Then Hall told of the slaying of Atli the Good by Eric, but he said nothing of the Earl’s dying words, nor of how he goaded Brighteyes with his bitter words.
“It was an ill deed in sooth,” said Gudruda, “for Eric to slay an old man whom he had wronged. Still, it may chance that he was driven to it for his own life’s sake.”
Then Hall said that he had seen Swanhild after Atli’s slaying, and that she had told him that she and Eric should wed shortly, and that Eric would rule in Orkneys by her side.
Gudruda asked if that was all his tale.
“Yes, lady,” answered Hall, “that is all my tale, for after that I sailed and know not what happened. But I am charged to give something to thee, and that by the Lady Swanhild. She bade me say this also: that, when thou lookest on the gift, thou shouldst think on a certain oath which Eric took as to the cutting of his hair.” And he drew a linen packet from his breast and gave it to her.
Thrice Gudruda looked on it, fearing to open it. Then, seeing the smile of mockery on Björn’s cold face, she took the shears that hung at her side and cut the thread with them. And as she cut, a lock of golden hair rose from the packet, untwisting itself like a living snake. The lock was long, and its end was caked with gore.
“Whose hair is this?” said Gudruda, though she knew the hair well.