(_The 'Little Hall' at Reynistad. Daytime. Enter_ LADY HELGA, JORUN, _and her two sons_, KALF, _eight years, and_ THORGEIR, _six years_.) _Jorun_.--What do you need for your journey, lady? I do not know whether I can assist you, because there is no one but women at home. _Helga_.--That knew I well that only women were at home. I need ice-spurs for my horse, or else he will fall under me and I lose life or limb. _Jorun_.--You are welcome to our horseshoes as to all other things, lady. _Helga_.--Harden well the ice-spurs for my horse, Haf. It seems to me that most iron is soft at Reynistad. _Haf_.--It shall be done, lady! (_Exit_.) _Jorun_.--Soft iron bends but does not break! _Helga_.--Neither does it remain sharp long. _Jorun_.--Are you finding fault with my husband and me because we observe the 'Peace of God'? I might easily let the women fetch so many of my servants as would be needed to take you and Haf prisoners. _Helga_.--Yes, if we waited until they came. But let us drop this; rather show me your boys, because I should like to see what will become of them when they grow up. _Jorun_.--There are but few that can see that in such small boys, excepting their own mother. _Helga_ (_sits down and extends her hand_).--Come to me, Kalf, my foster-son. (KALF _comes up to her_.) What do you want to be when you grow up? A bishop? _Kalf_.--I want to become a great chieftain! _Helga_.--What chieftain would you most want to be like? _Kalf_.--The one who commands the greatest army. _Helga_.--You want to command a great army, foster-son? _Kalf_.--Yes, and be victorious in many battles. _Helga_ (_placing_ KALF _on her knee_).--I think as before about my foster-son Half. In him you will bring up a man fit to be a chieftain, Jorun, though I know not how fit you are for that task. _Jorun_.--My sons will have to be satisfied with such bringing up as I am able to give them. _Helga_,--Which chieftain would you most like to be? _Kalf_.--Kolbein the Young. _Helga_.--Older people ought to say that! (_To_ THORGEIR.) But what do you most like to become, little tot? (THORGEIR _comes up to her_.) _Thorgeir_.--Like father. (_Puts a finger into his mouth_.) _Helga_.--Do you want to be a priest? _Thorgeir_.--I want to be like my papa. (HELGA _gazes at him; he retires behind his mother, concealing his face in her gown, and cries_.) _Jorun_.--You must not make my boy cry, lady. _Helga_--You may keep that boy yourself. But give me your boy Kalf along to Flugumyr, for that would further reconciliations. I wish to be the mother of a chieftain. _Kalf_.--Will you give me sword and helmet, and shield, then? _Helga_.--Yes, my boy, a shield with an eagle on it. _Jorun_.--A woman who herself has no children is not destined to be mother to a chieftain. My son Kalf shall never come into your hands whilst I live. I wish him to learn works of peace, and not warfare and slaughter.