“Where is he, then?” asked Swanhild.
Now Jon saw that he had said an unlucky thing, and answered:
“Nay, I know not. Last night he rode from Mosfell with Skallagrim Lambstail.”
“Thou liest, knave,” said Swanhild. “Speak, or thou shalt be slain.”
“Slay on,” groaned Jon, glancing at the swords above him, and shutting his eyes. For, though he feared much to die, he had no will to make known Eric’s plans.
“Look not at the swords; thou shalt not die so easily. Hearken: speak, and speak truly, or thou shalt seek Hela’s lap after this fashion,” and, bending down, she whispered in his ear, then laughed aloud.
Now Jon grew faint with fear; his lips turned blue, and his teeth chattered at the thought of how he should be made to die. Still, he would say nothing.
Then Swanhild spoke to Gizur and the thrall, and bade them bind him with a rope, tear the garments from him, and bring snow. They did this, and pushed the matter to the drawing of knives. But when he saw the steel Jon cried aloud that he would tell all.
“Now thou takest good counsel,” said Swanhild.
Then in his fear Jon told how Eric had gone down to Middalhof to wed Gudruda, and thence to fly with her to England.