“It is an ill deed thus to burn another’s ship,” said Gizur.
“Good or ill, it shall be done,” answered Swanhild fiercely. “Thou art a lawman, and well canst thou meet the suit; moreover Gudruda has wedded an outlaw and shall suffer for her sin. Now go, and see thou tarry not, or thy back shall pay the price.”
The man rode away swiftly. Then Gizur turned to Swanhild, asking: “Whither, then, go we?”
“I have said to Middalhof.”
“That is into the wolf’s den, if Eric and Skallagrim are there,” he answered: “I have little chance against the two of them.”
“Nay, nor against the one, Gizur. Why, if Eric’s right hand were hewn from him, and he stood unarmed, he would still slay thee with his left, as, swordless, he slew Ospakar thy father. Yet I shall find a way to come at him, if he is there.”
Then they rode on, and Gizur’s heart was heavy for fear of Eric and Skallagrim the Baresark. So fiercely did they ride that, within one hour after midnight, they were at the stead of Middalhof.
“We will leave the horses here in the field,” said Swanhild.
So they leaped to earth and, tying the reins of the horses together, left them to feed on the growing grass. Then they crept into the yard and listened. Presently there came a sound of horses stamping in the far corner of the yard. They went thither, and there they found a horse and two geldings saddled, but with the bits slipped, and on the horse was such a saddle as women use.
“Eric Brighteyes, Skallagrim Lambstail, and Gudruda the Fair,” whispered Swanhild, naming the horses and laughing evilly—“the birds are within! Now to snare them.”