“Ride on and we shall learn,” answered Skallagrim.
So they rode on, and as they rode Eric’s breast grew heavy with fear. Now they passed up the banked way through the home meadows of the house, but they could see no one; and now they were at the door. Down sprang Eric and walked into the hall. But none were there to greet him, though a fire yet burned upon the earth. Only a gaunt hound wandered about the hall, and, seeing him, sprang towards him, growling. Eric knew him for his old wolf-hound, and called him by his name. The dog listened, then ran up and smelt his hands, and straightway howled with joy and leapt upon him. For a while he leapt thus, while Eric stared around him wondering and sad at heart. Then the dog ran to the door and stopped, whining. Eric followed after him. The hound passed through the entrance, and across the yard till he came to an outhouse. Here the dog stopped and scratched at the door, still whining. Eric thrust it open. Lo! there before him sat Saevuna, his mother, dead in a chair, and at her feet crouched the carline—she who had been Eric’s nurse.
Now he grasped the door-posts to steady himself, and his shadow fell upon the white face of his mother and the old carline at her feet.
CHAPTER XXIII
HOW ERIC WAS A GUEST AT THE WEDDING-FEAST OF GUDRUDA THE FAIR
Eric looked, but said nothing.
“Who art thou?” whined the carline, gazing up at him with tear-blinded eyes. But Eric’s face was in the shadow, and she only saw the glint of his golden hair and the flash of the golden helm. For Eric could not speak yet a while.
“Art thou one of the Swanhild’s folk, come to drive me hence with the rest? Good sir, I cannot go to the fells, my limbs are too weak. Slay me, if thou wilt, but drive me not from this,” and she pointed to the corpse. “Say now, will thou not help me to give it burial? It is unmeet that she who in her time had husband, and goods, and son, should lie unburied like a dead cow on the fells. I have still a hundred in silver, if I might but come at it. It is hidden, sir, and I will pay thee if thou wilt help me to bury her. These old hands are too feeble to dig a grave, nor could I bear her there alone if it were dug. Thou wilt not help me?—then may thine own mother’s bones lie uncovered, and be picked of gulls and ravens. Oh, that Eric Brighteyes would come home again! Oh, that Eric was here! there is work to do and never a man to do it.”
Now Eric gave a great sob and cried, “Nurse, nurse! knowest thou me not! I am Eric Brighteyes.”
She uttered a loud cry, and, clasping him by the knees, looked up into his face.
“Thanks be to Odin! Thou art Eric—Eric come home again! But alas, thou hast come too late!”