_Kolbein_.--I, as well as Brand, am of the race of Asbjorn, and Sighvat Sturluson put me in possession of the land when I was but fifteen years old. _Botolf_.--And therefore had you Sighvat and his sons killed in the battle of Orlygsstad. _Kolbein_.--Sighvat wanted to lure my constituents from me by his wiles. The yeomen chose me their chieftain twenty years ago, and ever since I have performed, now this, now that deed, so that the yeomen would not choose another chieftain in my stead. Therefore is it right that I should be chieftain here. But to my ears it has come that you, my lord, have not lawfully come to be bishop at Holar! _Helga_ (_drinks from the horn and smiles_).--To your health, sir bishop! _Botolf_ (_responds after a while to her toast_).--You astonish me! The archbishop appointed me! _Kolbein_.--No one becomes lawfully bishop of Holar until we of the North Quarter have chosen him. And you we have not chosen, my lord! You are bishop here as long as I will, and no longer. Another matter it is that I shall do all to be at peace with the Holy Church, because the days of my life are probably counted. _Botolf_.--I have now learned how strong your desire for peace is, Kolbein. _Helga_.--Remember, my lord, that Kolbein thought it a matter of necessity that you should be his guest for a few days. I have treated you as well, sir, as my work would permit me and you would accept. _Botolf_.--And yet they say that you more than any other were cause of the state of war that now exists, and that your flattering of me is but dissimulation. _Helga_.--They are my enemies who tell you that, sir bishop! (HELGA _leaves her seat_. ASBJORN, _who has been speaking with a man, approaches her. They converse together in subdued voice in the foreground_.) _Asbjorn_.--Shall I tell Kolbein that Brand Kolbeinsson is riding to Flugumyr with eleven followers? _Helga_.--No! Remember Helgi Skaftason, should he come with Brand. _Asbjorn_.--Come he will if he is fated to death. _Helga_.--Is Broddi along? _Asbjorn_.--He is likely to be at Holar in the fort. _Helga_ (_goes to her seat. Raises her voice_). There is no cheer here to-night. Haf! Have you no song to recite or some tale to tell? _Haf_ (_advancing to middle of floor_).--I have put together a little song about the present feud. _Helga_.--Let men hear it, Haf! _Haf_.--Hither I see the ravens winging, They steer their flight to Holar's steeple On their errand bent death bringing; Hard the bishop's bells are ringing: Longest peals great Likabong:[A] 'The Peace of God shall save the people.' [Footnote A: 'Lyke-knell,' name of the great bell of the Holar Cathedral.] Heroes head their warlike forces, Mailed fists 'gainst shields are clashing, Over Herad's water-courses Thunder thousand hoofs of horses, Over fords and bridges dashing. Long afar moans Likabong.