_Helga_.--Let your Thorgeir be ordained priest, as kinsmen of yours have done. (_Stands_ KALF _on the floor, getting up herself and stroking him on his head_.) But be careful to raise Kalf in such a manner that he become a successor to my husband and his father. _Jorun_.--Go now, boys! (_The boys leave the room_.) You say that Kalf will be the successor of your husband and of his father? _Helga_.--You know about the ill health of my husband Kolbein, which may take him away earlier than one might suspect. And yet it may be that Brand Kolbeinsson will not live even as long as he. _Jorun_.--What is that you say? As a fact I know that Hjalti, the son of the bishop, is not coming from the South to settle our differences! _Helga_ (_laughs_).--He, the cod-biter! His men were all at the fishing-stations when Asbjorn arrived in the South. Hjalti is coming by no means, and my husband is raging at him. _Jorun_.--You must have stirred up Kolbein the Young in this matter as never before. Did you not drive home with the corpse of Thorolf, saying to him that there was life in him still; but when he took Thorolf out of your sleigh his head rolled about Kolbein's feet. Nor was that to be wondered at, considering the love that was between you and Thorolf. _Helga_.--The slayers of Thorolf themselves incited me most. _Jorun_.--And now it may appear to you as though not only Thorolf was to be avenged. Asbjorn fared South with eleven men and returned alone. He lost all men in the winter storms that have been raging now for some time. At last there were only six who returned over the Kjol, without food and worn out. Man after man threw himself down on the frozen ground to die; they cursed the wars that will not let men die in peace with God and men, they cursed Brand Kolbeinsson, and Broddi, and Kolbein the Young, because it is they who are the cause of this war. _Helga_.--You say the truth about the journey of Asbjorn from the South. But I shall forget about all that, and shall procure the best terms for your husband from Kolbein, if you will give me your boy Kalf to foster and to let me bring him up. It has become rather solitary about me now at Flugumyr! _Jorun_.--And you wish that I shall bring up my sons so that dying men shall curse them? _Helga_.--You shall surrender the boy to me, whether you like it or no. _Jorun_.--Then would I rather die! _Helga_.--Weak spirit! My husband has promised me the life of a man in this feud, and also that I might choose who it shall be. _Jorun_.--Then I _know_ that it will be the life of my husband. _Helga_.--You spoke of the love between me and Thorolf Bjarnason. I shall not deny it. Thorolf summoned your husband before the judgment of God before he was put to death. Now he is dead I can do nothing more pleasing to him than to see to it that Brand Kolbeinsson follow the summons in due time. _Jorun_.--You are a devil, Helga! You dare to treat thus a chieftain as beloved as Brand Kolbeinsson?