Gudruda threw a cloak over Eric’s naked shoulders.
“That was well done, Brighteyes,” she said.
“The game is still to play, sweet,” he gasped, “and Ospakar is a mighty man. I threw him by skill, not by strength. Next time it must be by strength or not at all.”
Now breathing-time was done, and once more the two were face to face. Thrice Ospakar rushed, and thrice did Eric slip away, for he would waste Blacktooth’s strength. Again Ospakar rushed, roaring like a bear, and fire seemed to come from his eyes, and the steam went up from him and hung upon the frosty air like the steam of a horse. This time Eric could not get away, but was swept up into that great grip, for Ospakar had the lower hold.
“Now there is an end of Eric,” said Swanhild.
“The arrow is yet on the bow,” answered Gudruda.
Blacktooth put out his might and reeled round and round the ring, dragging Eric with him. This way and that he twisted, and time on time Eric’s leg was lifted from the ground, but so he might not be thrown. Now they stood almost still, while men shouted madly, for no such wrestling had been known in the southlands. Grimly they hugged and strove: forsooth it was a mighty sight to see. Grimly they hugged, and their muscles strained and cracked, but they could stir each other no inch.
Ospakar grew fearful, for he could make no play with this youngling. Black rage swelled in his heart. He ground his fangs, and thought on guile. By his foot gleamed the naked foot of Eric. Suddenly he stamped on it so fiercely that the skin burst.
“Ill done! ill done!” folk cried; but in his pain Eric moved his foot.
Lo! he was down, but not altogether down, for he did but sit upon his haunches, and still he clung to Blacktooth’s thighs, and twined his legs about his ankles. Now with all his strength Ospakar strove to force the head of Brighteyes to the ground, but still he could not, for Eric clung to him like a creeper to a tree.