Thorolf had by a wealthy marriage and by inheritance accumulated a large
fortune and lived in princely style. His liberality and winning exterior
made him hosts of friends, and his thrift and ability procured him the
means to practise a magnificent hospitality. The king had made him his
_sysselmand_, or bailiff, in Haalogaland, and Thorolf particularly
distinguished himself by the energy and shrewdness which he displayed
in collecting the tax from the Finns, who, as a rule, were not anxious
to make contributions to the royal treasury. During a journey which
Harold made through Haalogaland, Thorolf made a feast for him, the
splendor of which had never been equalled in those parts of the country.
There were in all eight hundred guests--five hundred of whom Thorolf had
invited, while three hundred were the attendants of the king. To the
astonishment of his host, Harold sat, dark and silent, in the high-seat,
and seemed ill-pleased with the efforts that were made to entertain him.
Toward the end of the feast he repressed his ill-humor, however, and
when his host at parting presented him with a large dragon-ship with
complete equipment, he seemed much pleased. Nevertheless, it was not
long before he deprived him of his office as royal bailiff, then
espoused the cause of his enemies, and used all sorts of contemptible
slanders as a pretext for attacking him on his estate, Sandness, and
burning his house. When Thorolf broke out through the burning wall, he
was received with a hail-storm of spears. Seeing the king he rushed
toward him, with drawn sword, and cut down his banner-bearer; then, when
his foe was almost within reach of his sword, fell, crying: "By three
steps only I failed." It was said that Harold himself gave him his
death-wound, and he later avowed himself as his slayer to the old
Kveld-Ulf. When he saw his former friend lying dead at his feet, he
looked sadly at him; and when a man passed him who was busy bandaging a
slight wound, he said: "That wound Thorolf did not give thee; for
differently did weapons bite in his hands. It is a great pity that such
men must perish."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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