Early in the morning Thorstein showed the pirates a secret path up the face of the cliffs at the south, which they ascended and spread out their damp powder to dry. During this time they danced and yelled in fiendish glee looking down upon their helpless victims. The raiders then divided into three bands and thoroughly ransacked the village. They looted the church and in mockery rang the bells, arrayed themselves in the vestments of the priest and finally burned the church. The people fled to the several caves in the tufa, many were murdered while in flight and others captured and bound. For three days one hundred people hid in one of these caves which is so concealed that it is with difficulty that it can be found. Jon Thorstein, the first translator of the Psalms into Icelandic verse, a priest, since called “the Martyr,” took refuge in a small cave with his family where he doubtless would have been saved had it not been for the curiosity of a companion who ventured to the entrance and exposed himself and thus attracted the attention of the pirates. The following account is from the history of Björn of _Scandsá_:— “The priest went to the outer part of the cave, where he saw that blood ran in the opening; and then he hied him out, and saw that Snorri lay headless at the door of the cave: for the raiders had shot off his head, and he had been to them a signal for the cave. Then Jon went within again telling this hap; and he bade his folks beseech Almighty God to succor them. Forthwith thereafter these noisy hounds stood over the cave, so that he heard their footfall. “‘Margrjet, they are coming,’ he said, ‘Lo, I will go to meet them without fear!’ “He prayed that God’s grace might not leave her. But while the words were in the saying, the bloodthirsty hounds came to the cave’s mouth and would search it, but the priest went out to meet them. Now when they saw him, one of them said,” (doubtless the renegade, Thorstein),— “‘Why art thou here, Sira Jon? Ought’st not to be at home in thy church?’ The priest answered— “‘I was there this morning.’ Then said the murderer, “‘Thou wilt not be there to-morrow morning.’ And thereafter he cut him on the head to the bone. The priest stretched out his hands and said,— “‘I commit me to my God. That thou doest do freely!’ The wretch then struck him another blow. At this he cried out saying,— “‘I commit me to my Lord Jesus Christ.’ “Then Margrjet, the priest’s wife, cast herself at the feet of the tyrant, and clung to them, thinking that his heart might be softened, but there was no pity in these monsters. Then the scoundrel struck a third blow. The priest said,— “‘That is enough. Lord Jesus receive my soul!’ Then the foul man cleft his skull asunder. Thus he lost his life. “There was a little rift higher up in the cliff than where these folk lay, and two women saw and heard all these things.”