Then all men passed down to the bank of Oxarà, and, on the other side, people came from their booths and sat upon the slope of All Man’s Raft, for it was a new thing that one man should fight two in holmgang.
Now Eric crossed to the island where holmgangs are fought to this day, and after him came the two chosen, flourishing their swords bravely, and taking counsel how one should rush at his face, while the other passed behind his back and spitted him, as woodfolk spit a lamb. Eric drew Whitefire and leaned on it, waiting for the word, and all the women held him to be wondrous fair as, clad in his byrnie and his golden helm, he leaned thus on Whitefire. Presently the word was given, and Eric, standing not to defend himself as they deemed he surely would, whirled Whitefire round his helm and rushed headlong on his foes, shield aloft.
The great carles saw the light that played on Whitefire’s edge and the other light that burned in Eric’s eyes, and terror got hold of them. Now he was almost come, and Whitefire sprang aloft like a tongue of flame. Then they stayed no more, but, running one this way and one that, cast themselves into the flood and swam for the river-edge. Now from either bank rose up a roar of laughter, that grew and grew, till it echoed against the lava rifts and scared the ravens from their nests.
Eric, too, stopped his charge and laughed aloud; then walked back to where Asmund stood, unarmed, to second him in the holmgang.
“I can get little honour from such champions as these,” he said.
“Nay,” answered Asmund, “thou hast got the greatest honour, and they, and Ospakar, such shame as may not be wiped out.”
Now when Blacktooth saw what had come to pass, he well-nigh choked, and fell from his horse in fury. Still, he could find no stomach for fighting, but, mustering his company, rode straightway from the Thing home again to Swinefell. But he caused those two whom he had put up to do battle with Eric to be set upon with staves and driven from his following, and the end of it was that they might stay no more in Iceland, but took ship and sailed south, and now they are out of the story.
On the next day, Asmund, and with him Eric and all their men, rode back to Middalhof. Gudruda greeted Eric well, and for the first time since Swanhild went away she kissed him. Moreover, she wept bitterly when she learned that he must go into outlawry, while she must bide at home.
“How shall the days pass by, Eric?” she said, “when thou art far, and I know not where thou art, nor how it goes with thee, nor if thou livest or art already dead?”
“In sooth I cannot say, sweet,” he answered; “but of this I am sure that, wheresoever I am, yet more weary shall be my hours.”