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Page 5
_Salvor_.--That he loses possession of his senses, and becomes even more
sick thereafter.
_Helga_ (_vehemently_).--His kinsmen must not know that he is sick, or
else they will take matters in their own hands. He will have to have
drugs so strong as to give him strength to hold council with them.
_Salvor_.--But if he loses possession of his senses during it?
_Helga_ (_with a look of relief_).--Let me take care of that. Then I
shall speak for him, for all his intentions are known to me.
_Salvor_.--My advice it is not to use strong drugs; they may endanger
Kolbein's life.
_Helga_.--Will you, low-born woman, give advice to a great?
_Salvor_.--Why seek you then a low-born woman to heal the great?
_Helga_.--I knew none better. Do as I bid you!
_Salvor_.--I shall do as you bid, my lady. You run the risk, not I.
(_Enter_ THOROLF.)
_Thorolf_.--Hail, lady! How is the chieftain's health?
_Helga_.--Rather good! Salvor says he will not be able to bear going
into war for the first.
_Thorolf_.--Kolbein has a-plenty of men to lead his troops.
_Salvor_.--Brand Kolbeinsson--
_Thorolf_.--He, the velvet glove! Whilst Kolbein was on his foray to
Reykholar and slew Tumi--a feat now famous--Brand was to dispatch old
Sturla Thordsson--the fellow who mostly goes about with ink on his
fingers. But Sturla gulled him so that Brand had to return with shame.
Brand lacks both forethought _before_ battle and that fire _in_ battle
which wins the victory.
_Salvor_.--Brand Kolbeinsson is a man of peace.
_Helga_.--You shall stay here at Flugumyr now, Thorolf, whilst my
husband is in ill health. Brand Kolbeinsson would be but a low wall
between us and Thord Kakali, should he advance from the West.
_Thorolf_.--So long have I been one of your household, my lady, that I
am bound to obey. But who shall take care of the shipbuilding which I
have under way for Kolbein the Young?
_Helga_.--Your wife Arnfrid; for this is not a place for women to be at.
_Salvor_.--The ships that are to be used for carrying our war into the
Westfirths this spring?
_Thorolf_.--Yes. This spring we shall lay waste the Westfirths, kill
cattle and people, burn down storehouses, farms, and churches, and
slay all men we overtake. Thord shall not be able to hold himself there
thereafter.
_Salvor_.--Holy mother of God! Why are the people to suffer all that
misery and affliction! Have there not been enough maimings and killings
in the Westfirths? Be mindful, Thorolf, that you, too, may be taken
captive and your bright coat of mail get a red collar.
_Thorolf_.--Often have I thought of it. But he who lets himself be kept
back by such thoughts had better never venture into danger.
_Helga_.--Go now, Salvor, and attend to the patient! (_Exit_ SALVOR.)
The life of my husband is in great danger!
_Thorolf_. (_coming close to her_).--And shall I then become the Lord of
Eyafirth?
_Helga_ (_motioning him away_).--Kolbein the Young still lives. Whilst
he is living the disposition of the dominions remains his matter. It
may well be, though, that I succeed in making him give you Eyafirth, and
then more people from here would settle there than are there now. Then
I shall foster up young Kalf, the son of Brand, because he will inherit
Skagafirth from his father; and while he is young, and I gain influence
over him, it may happen that the men of Skagafirth and Eyafirth would
work in unison in all undertakings, and rule the entire country alone.
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