Men turned and looked. They saw this: there on the threshold stood a man, glorious to look at, and from his winged helm of gold the rays of light flashed through the dusky hall. The man was great and beautiful to see. He had long yellow hair bound in about his girdle, and in his left hand he held a pointed shield, in his right a spear, and at his thigh there hung a mighty sword. Nor was he alone, for by his side, a broad axe on his shoulder and shield in hand, stood another man, clad in black-hued mail—a man well-nigh as broad and big, with hawk’s eyes, eagle beak, and black hair streaked with grey.
For a moment there was silence. Then a voice spoke:
“Lo! here be the Gods Baldur and Thor!—come from Valhalla to grace the marriage-feast!”
Then the man with golden hair cried aloud in a voice that made the rafters ring:
“Here are Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail, his thrall, come from over sea to grace the feast, indeed!”
“I could have looked for no worse guests,” said Björn, beneath his breath, and rose to bid men thrust them out. But before he could speak, lo! gold-helmed Eric and black-helmed Skallagrim were stalking up the length of that great hall. Side by side they stalked, with faces fierce and cold; nor stayed they till they stood before the high seat. Eric 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.”