Then they sprang to earth and took their stand upon a mound of rising ground—and the men rode towards them.
“I shall soon know what thy fellowship is worth,” said Eric.
“Fear not, lord,” answered Skallagrim. “Hold thou thy head and I will hold thy back. We are met in a good hour.”
“Good or ill, it is likely to be a short one. Hearken thou: if thou must turn Baresark when swords begin to flash, at the least stand and be Baresark where thou art, for if thou rushest on the foe, my back will be naked and I must soon be sped.”
“It shall be as thou sayest, lord.”
Now men rode round them, but at first they did not know Eric, because of the golden helm that hid his face in shadow.
“Who are ye?” called Ospakar.
“I think that thou shouldst know me, Blacktooth,” Eric answered, “for I set thee heels up in the snow but lately—or, at the least, thou wilt know this,” and he drew great Whitefire.
“Thou mayest know me also, Ospakar,” cried the Baresark. “Skallagrim, men called me, Lambstail, Eric Brighteyes calls me, but once thou didst call me Ounound. Say, lord, what tidings of Thorunna?”
Now Ospakar shook his sword, laughing. “I came out to seek one foe, and I have found two,” he cried. “Hearken, Eric: when thou art slain I go hence to burn and kill at Middalhof. Shall I bear thy head as keepsake from thee to Gudruda? For thee, Ounound, I thought thee dead; but, being yet alive, Thorunna, my sweet love, sends thee this,” and he hurled a spear at him with all his might.