And so these two kissed, for the first time, out in the snow on Coldback, and that first kiss was long and sweet.
Swanhild heard and her blood seethed within her as water seethes in a boiling spring when the fires wake beneath. She put her hand to her kirtle and gripped the knife at her side. She half drew it, then drove it back.
“Cold kills as sure as steel,” she said in her heart. “If I slay her I cannot save myself or him. Let us die in peace, and let the snow cover up our troubling.” And once more she listened.
“Ah, sweet,” said Eric, “even in the midst of death there is hope of life. Swear to me, then, that if by chance we live thou wilt love me always as thou lovest me now.”
“And swear, come what may, that thou wilt wed no man but me.”
“I swear, if thou dost remain true to me, that I will wed none but thee, Eric.”
“Boast not overmuch, Eric: if thou dost live thy days are all before thee, and with times come trials.”
Now the snow whirled down faster and more thick, till these two, clasped heart to heart, were but a heap of white, and all white was the horse, and Swanhild was nearly buried.
“Where go we when we die, Eric?” said Gudruda; “in Odin’s house there is no place for maids, and how shall my feet fare without thee?”
“Nay, sweet, my May, Valhalla shuts its gates to me, a deedless man; up Bifrost’s rainbow bridge I may not travel, for I do not die with byrnie on breast and sword aloft. To Hela shall we go, and hand in hand.”
“Art thou sure, Eric, that men find these abodes? To say sooth, at times I misdoubt me of them.”
“I am not so sure but that I also doubt. Still, I know this: that where thou goest there I shall be, Gudruda.”
“Then things are well, and well work the Norns.[*] Still, Eric, of a sudden I grow fey: for it comes upon me that I shall not die to-night, but that, nevertheless, I shall die with thy arms about me, and at thy side. There, I see it on the snow! I lie by thee, sleeping, and one comes with hands outstretched and sleep falls from them like a mist—by Freya, it is Swanhild’s self! Oh! it is gone.”
“It was nothing, Gudruda, but a vision of the snow—an untimely dream that comes before the sleep. I grow cold and my eyes are heavy; kiss me once again.”