“Till then, the master of my mood,
    Men called me gentle, mild, and good;
    But yon fierce dame’s sharp tongue might wake
    In wintry den the frozen snake.”

While Thorarin spent the winter with his uncle Arnkill, he received information from his mother Geirrida that Oddo, son of her old rival Katla, was the person who had cut off the hand of his wife Ada, and that he gloried in the fact.  Thorarin and Arnkill determined on instant vengeance, and, travelling rapidly, surprised the house of Katla.  The undismayed sorceress, on hearing them approach, commanded her son to sit close beside her, and when the assailants entered they only beheld Katla, spinning coarse yarn from what seemed a large distaff, with her female domestics seated around her.

“My son,” she said, “is absent on a journey;” and Thorarin and Arnkill, having searched the house in vain, were obliged to depart with this answer.  They had not, however, gone far before the well-known skill of Katla, in optical delusion occurred to them, and they resolved on a second and stricter search.  Upon their return they found Katla in the outer apartment, who seemed to be shearing the hair of a tame kid, but was in reality cutting the locks of her son Oddo.  Entering the inner room, they found the large distaff flung carelessly upon a bench.  They returned yet a third time, and a third delusion was prepared for them; for Katla had given her son the appearance of a hog, which seemed to grovel upon the heap of ashes.  Arnkill now seized and split the distaff, which he had at first suspected, upon which Kalta tauntingly observed, that if their visits had been frequent that evening, they could not be said to be altogether ineffectual, since they had destroyed a distaff.  They were accordingly returning completely baffled, when Geirrida met them, and upbraided them with carelessness in searching for their enemy.

“Return yet again,” she said, “and I will accompany you.”

Katla’s maidens, still upon the watch, announced to her the return of the hostile party, their number augmented by one who wore a blue mantle.

“Alas!” cried Katla, “it is the sorceress Geirrida, against whom spells will be of no avail.”

Immediately rising from the raised and boarded seat which she occupied, she concealed Oddo beneath it, and covered it with cushions as before, on which she stretched herself complaining of indisposition.  Upon the entrance of the hostile party, Geirrida, without speaking a word, flung aside her mantle, took out a piece of sealskin, in which she wrapped up Katla’s head, and commanded that she should be held by some of the attendants, while the others broke open the boarded space, beneath which Oddo lay concealed, seized upon him, bound him, and led him away captive with his mother.  Next morning Oddo was hanged, and Katla stoned to death; but not until she had confessed that, through her sorcery, she had occasioned the disaster of Gunlaugar, which first led the way to these feuds.