Brand Kolbeinsson here?

[Footnote A: These lines are from a stanza spoken by one Thorir Jokul, when kneeling for the blow (Sturlunga, 143).]

Einar.—Here he is.

Thorolf.—There is no glory in my overcoming such as you, Einar the Rich. But there, I want to get to where stands Brand Kolbeinsson. (BRAND stands still while these words are exchanged; some men stand between him and THOROLF. THOROLF rushes at BRAND, but the others fell him and wound him before he has reached BRAND.) Now was I too short by one step.

Einar (giving THOROLF a wound).—You have always despised me!

Thorolf (gets upon his feet, but is held fast and made to surrender his arms).—A priest I would now have, Broddi, in the name of God!

Alf.—What will you with a priest, you heathen dog?

Broddi.—All the more need. Go to him, Deacon Sigurd!

Sigurd (goes to THOROLF, whom the others release).—You know, Thorolf, that I am a priest?

Thorolf.—Give me absolution, priest, the same as if you were in my place! My soul is in danger. I have spoken with Woden, but a short while ago. He said the ale was ready which we were to drink together to-night. For God's sake absolve me well of my sins!

Sigurd.—So shall it be.

Thorolf (to BRODDI).—What will you have for my life?

(BRODDI remains silent.)

Thorolf.—I offer you to leave the country and never come back to Iceland.

Broddi.—You must know, Thorolf, that you are to die. There is no other condition.

Thorolf.—Each of you would consider himself too young to die already, if he were in my place now. You are keeping long your vow of everlasting truce, Brand Kolbeinsson!

(BRAND remains silent.)

Thorolf.—Those that keep it as you do 'shall shun churches and Christian people, the house of God and the houses of men and every home but hell!' A great wonder it would be if you obtain the absolution of a priest in the hour of your death. I summon you before God, Brand Kolbeinsson!

Broddi.—Lead the man away to be executed, Helgi Skaftason, you have a good axe.

Helgi.—That I have; nor shall I refuse its service.

Thorolf.—Helgi Skaftason is then to—! (Quickly takes his ring off his wrist and comes close to SIGURD. EINAR happens to stand near so that he can discern their speech.) Can you keep a secret, priest?

Sigurd.—That can every one who is in holy office.

Thorolf (gives him the ring and says in low voice).—Quickly hide this ring and bring it to Lady Helga.

Sigurd (do).—With what message?

Thorolf.—That you shall be spared life and limb, though you have been participant in this onslaught on me. (EINAR gives a start.)

Sigurd.—And any others?

Thorolf.—Little I care.

Einar (aside).—That ring must I try to get hold of.

(THOROLF is led out to the left; all the others follow, excepting
BRODDI and BRAND.)

Broddi.—You must not be present at it, Brand! I shall tell you what is happening. Now Thorolf is shriven; he has but few sins to confess; he has been absolved but recently.

Brand.—If they had not lit the fire we would never have found them. Better had it been they had not lit it!

Broddi.—A pity that brave men such as Thorolf was should not be good men to work together with, likewise. Now Thorolf kneels down for the blow. Do not look that way, Brand!

Brand.—Has he the crucifix in his hand?

Broddi.—No; he reached it to Deacon Sigurd, before kneeling down. Why does Helgi let a brave man wait so long for the blow?

(A heavy blow on a body is heard without. BRAND starts up, pulls THOROLF'S ring from his arm and gives it to BRODDI.)

Brand.—Give Helgi Skaftason this ring; he will have need of the value in it. It is the ring Thorolf handed over to me in Flugumyr. I will not wear it!

Broddi.—It shall be as you wish. Now our men have laid a shield over Thorolf's body.

(The slayers of THOROLF enter from the left.)

Alf.—Great news abroad!

Brand.—We know what has happened, and that Thorolf Bjarnason is dead.

Alf.—'Dog-like on crushed bones he fed, Tan of bark his hide dyed red.'[A]

[Footnote A: Alf's lines are to be understood, so that Thorolf lived like a beggar in his youth, eating crushed bones (of dried fish; the dried fish are beaten with a hammer so as to crush the bones and separate them from the meat), and gnawing the bark of trees. (H. Hermannsson.) The lines are from a stanza made by one Gudmund Asbjarnason on Thorolf Sturlunga, ch. 122.]