Alf.—­Your husband he called a ‘velvet glove!’

Jorun.—­Gentle have his hands ever been to me, and I might well call him so.

Alf.—­And a coward he called him.

Jorun.—­Slower he is to ill deeds than Thorolf.

Einar.—­Me Thorolf threatened with death, and to wrench out of my hands the crucifix, whenever I should lie down for the blow, just as he did to Kalf Guttormsson.

Jorun (moved to tears).—­Was that done to my father?

Sigurd.—­It was indeed done to him, and a mighty ill deed it was.

Jorun.—­I had not thought that men who were to lose their lives would be thus cruelly dealt with.

Alf.—­These men have indeed done enough to forfeit their lives, and ought to live no longer.

Helgi Skaftason.—­If no one can be prevailed upon to kill them I shall undertake it.

Alf.—­No one’s duty it is as much as yours, Brand Kolbeinsson, to take revenge for the murder of Kalf Guttormsson.

Jorun.—­Let no one be so bold as to seek revenge for my father.  Full composition did Kolbein the Young pay for reconciliation, after the death of father and son, with the fine of hundred marks silver, which were paid out to my mother and me as stipulated.

Einar.—­And yet might Brand and others take revenge for the wrongs they have suffered at the hands of Thorolf, even though Kalf Guttormsson’s death be atoned for.

Jorun.—­Do not undertake so dangerous an enterprise, my husband.  Well you know that if you slay Thorolf his friend Kolbein will slay you all in revenge.

Alf.—­Kolbein lies nigh unto death.

Broddi.—­Is his condition so dangerous?

Brand.—­Why, have you not told news so important and so—­sad until now?

Alf.—­I could not, on account of Thorolf.  Kolbein holds his malady secret as long as he can.

Brand.—­Then my kinsman Kolbein must have summoned us to dispose of his dominions before he dies.

Sigurd.—­That is, all the North Quarter and the Westfirths!

Brand.—­About the Westfirths we have been at war until now.

Einar.—­And his heir? (All look at BRAND.) They say that it is the wish of Lady Helga to set Thorolf Bjarnason over all the dominions.

Many.—­Thorolf Bjarnason?

Alf.—­Impossible!

Broddi.—­It would mean the death of one man or many men.

Brand.—­Helgi Skaftason, have the saddles laid upon twelve horses!  I and eleven men shall ride forthwith to Flugumyr. (Exit HELGI.)

Kalf.—­Lay saddle on my horse also.  I shall ride to Flugumyr to my foster-mother.

Broddi.—­What will you of her, my young fellow?

Kalf.—­I want to get the weapons she has promised to give me.