Then said the King:—“Wilt thou take christening, and become my man thereafter?” Saith he:—“This shall be our bargain: I will let myself be christened, if thou, King, be thyself my gossip, but from no other man will I take it.” The King answerest:—“Well, I will do that.” So then was _Hallfreðr_ christened, and the King himself held him at the font. Then the King asked of _Hallfreðr_: “Wilt thou now become my man?” _Hallfreðr_ said: “Erst was I of the body-guard of Earl _Hakon_; nor will I now be the liege man of thee nor of any other lord, but if thou give me thy word that for no deed I may happen to do thou wilt drive me away from thee.” “From all that is told me,” said the King, “thou art neither so wise nor so meek but it seemeth like enough to me that thou mayest do some deed or other which I may nowise put up with.” “Slay me then,” said _Hallfreðr_. The King said: “Thou art a Troublous-Skald; but my man shalt thou be now.” Answereth _Hallfreðr_: “What wilt thou give me for a name gift, King, if I am to be called Troublous-Scald?” The King gave him a sword, but no scabbard therewith; and the King said: “Make us now a stave about the sword, and let the _sword_ come into every line.” _Hallfreðr_ sang:— “One only sword of all swords Hath made me now sword-wealthy Now then shall things be sword-some For the Niords of the Sweep of sword-edge Naught to the sword were lacking, If to that sword were scabbard All with the earth-bones colored. Of three swords am I worthy.” Then the King gave him the scabbard and said: “But there is not a sword in every line.” “Yea,” answers _Hallfreðr_, “but there are _three_ swords in one line.” “Yea, forsooth,” saith the King. Now from _Hallfreðr’s_ songs we take knowledge and sooth witness from what is there told concerning King _Olaf_. In 1014, after a great sea fight in which a yard arm fell and inflicted a mortal blow, _Hallfreðr_ lay dying on board of a crippled vessel which was drifting before the gale. Still mindful of conditions around him he makes the following stave, which was translated by Miss _Oswald_:— “Down on my heart and side Crashes the weatherworn spar; Scarce ever so heavy a wave Has swept o’er a boat before. Wet am I, wave-washed and worn, And shattered at heart and breast; And the sea is aboard our craft, And nowhere the scald can rest.” With his dying breath he chanted the following stave, showing that his early love, _Kolfina_, had not been forgotten during his long years of warfare and wanderings:—