So she cut his yellow locks, and one of them lay upon her heart for many a day.
“Now thou shalt swear to me,” she whispered in his ear, “that no other man or woman shall cut thy hair till thou comest back to me and I clip it again.”
“That I swear, and readily,” he answered. “I will go long-haired like a girl for thy sake, Gudruda.”
He spoke low, but Koll the Half-witted, Groa’s thrall, heard this oath and kept it in his mind.
Very early on the morrow all men rose, and, taking horse, rode once more to the seaside, till they came to that shed where the Gudruda lay.
Then, when the tide was high, Eric’s company took hold of the black ship’s thwarts, and at his word dragged her with might and main. She ran down the greased blocks and sped on quivering to the sea, and as her dragon-prow dipped in the water people cheered aloud.
Now Eric must bid farewell to all, and this he did with a brave heart till at the last he came to Saevuna, his mother, and Gudruda, his dear love.
“Farewell, son,” said the old dame; “I have little hope that these eyes shall look again upon that bonny face of thine, yet I am well paid for my birth-pains, for few have borne such a man as thou. Think of me at times, for without me thou hadst never been. Be not led astray of women, nor lead them astray, or ill shall overtake thee. Be not quarrelsome because of thy great might, for there is a stronger than the strongest. Spare a fallen foe, and take not a poor man’s goods or a brave man’s sword; but, when thou smitest, smite home. So shalt thou win honour, and, at the last, peace, that is more than honour.”
Eric thanked her for her counsel, and kissed her, then turned to Gudruda, who stood, white and still, plucking at her golden girdle.
“What can I say to thee?” he asked.