you to your bed.”
“Ay, and ’twas she who sent me hither with her greeting,” said Steinfinn. “You surely won her heart when last you came to us—she cannot put you out of her mind.—But don your clothes,” he said; “I have ever thought it a dastard’s deed to set on a naked man.”
Mattias turned flaming red at those words. But he made light of it and asked: “Will you give me leave to buckle on my coat of mail too, since it seems you would make a show of chivalry?”
“No,” cried Steinfinn. “For I have no thought that you shall come off with your life from this our meeting. But I am nothing loath to meet you unharnessed.”
While Steinfinn unbuckled his coat of mail, Kolbein came in and he and another man held Mattias. This he liked ill, but Steinfinn said with a laugh: “Methinks you are more ticklish than I was—you cannot bear a man’s hand near your skin!” After that Steinfinn let Mattias put on his clothes and take a shield. Then the two set upon each other.
In his youth Steinfinn had been counted most skilful in the use of arms, but of late he had fallen out of practice; it was quickly seen that Mattias, small and slight as he was, would be more than a match for the other. Steinfinn had to give ground, foot by foot; his breath came heavily—then Mattias made a cut at him and disabled his right arm. Steinfinn changed his sword over to his left hand—both men had long since thrown away the wreckage of their shields. But now Steinfinn’s men thought it looked badly for their master: on a sign from Kolbein one of his men sprang to Steinfinn’s side. Mattias was somewhat dazed at this, and now Steinfinn gave him his death-blow.
“But they fought like two good lads, we all said that,” said Arnvid.
Meanwhile, as ill luck would have it, some of the strange men-at-arms whom Steinfinn had with him bethought them of pillage, and others tried to stay them from it. And in the tumult some man set fire to a stack of birchbark which stood in the narrow gangway between the hall and one of the storehouses. It was doubtless that Tjostolv who did it, a man none thought well of, and he must have carried bark into the storehouse too, for it burst into flames on the instant, though timbers and roof were wet from the rain. And then the fire took hold of the hall. They had to bear out Mattias’s corpse and loose the other men.
Now folk came up from the neighbouring farms, and a number of these peasants came to blows with them. Some were hurt on both sides, but ’twas unlikely that more were slain.
“Ay, we need not have had the fire and the brawling on our hands,” said Einar, “had not Steinfinn been set on showing prowess and chivalry.”
Olav had never liked Einar Kolbeinsson. He was three yearsolder than himself and had always loved to tease the younger boys with his spite. So Olav answered him, pretty scornfully: “Nay, no man will charge your father or you brothers with
that—
none will accuse Kolbein Borghildsson of goading on his half-brother to ill-timed high-mindedness.”
“Have a care of yourself, young sniveller—Father’s name has always stood next to Tore of Hov’s. Our stock is just as good as Aasa’s offspring—mind that, Olav; and don’t sit there fondling my kinswomen—take your paw out of her lap, and quick about it!”
Olav jumped up and they were at each other. Ingunn and Arnvid ran to part them. Then it was that Steinfinn rose and called for silence.
The house-folk, men and women, and the strangers drew toward the table. Steinfinn stood leaning on his wife’s shoulder—he was no longer red in the face, but white and sunken under the eyes. But he smiled and held himself erect as he spoke: “Now I will give you thanks, all you who were with me in this deed—first will I thank you, brother, and your sons, and then my dear cousin, Arnvid Finnsson, and you others, good kinsmen and trusty men. If God will, we shall soon have peace and atonement for these things
“Ay, and ’twas she who sent me hither with her greeting,” said Steinfinn. “You surely won her heart when last you came to us—she cannot put you out of her mind.—But don your clothes,” he said; “I have ever thought it a dastard’s deed to set on a naked man.”
Mattias turned flaming red at those words. But he made light of it and asked: “Will you give me leave to buckle on my coat of mail too, since it seems you would make a show of chivalry?”
“No,” cried Steinfinn. “For I have no thought that you shall come off with your life from this our meeting. But I am nothing loath to meet you unharnessed.”
While Steinfinn unbuckled his coat of mail, Kolbein came in and he and another man held Mattias. This he liked ill, but Steinfinn said with a laugh: “Methinks you are more ticklish than I was—you cannot bear a man’s hand near your skin!” After that Steinfinn let Mattias put on his clothes and take a shield. Then the two set upon each other.
In his youth Steinfinn had been counted most skilful in the use of arms, but of late he had fallen out of practice; it was quickly seen that Mattias, small and slight as he was, would be more than a match for the other. Steinfinn had to give ground, foot by foot; his breath came heavily—then Mattias made a cut at him and disabled his right arm. Steinfinn changed his sword over to his left hand—both men had long since thrown away the wreckage of their shields. But now Steinfinn’s men thought it looked badly for their master: on a sign from Kolbein one of his men sprang to Steinfinn’s side. Mattias was somewhat dazed at this, and now Steinfinn gave him his death-blow.
“But they fought like two good lads, we all said that,” said Arnvid.
Meanwhile, as ill luck would have it, some of the strange men-at-arms whom Steinfinn had with him bethought them of pillage, and others tried to stay them from it. And in the tumult some man set fire to a stack of birchbark which stood in the narrow gangway between the hall and one of the storehouses. It was doubtless that Tjostolv who did it, a man none thought well of, and he must have carried bark into the storehouse too, for it burst into flames on the instant, though timbers and roof were wet from the rain. And then the fire took hold of the hall. They had to bear out Mattias’s corpse and loose the other men.
Now folk came up from the neighbouring farms, and a number of these peasants came to blows with them. Some were hurt on both sides, but ’twas unlikely that more were slain.
“Ay, we need not have had the fire and the brawling on our hands,” said Einar, “had not Steinfinn been set on showing prowess and chivalry.”
Olav had never liked Einar Kolbeinsson. He was three yearsolder than himself and had always loved to tease the younger boys with his spite. So Olav answered him, pretty scornfully: “Nay, no man will charge your father or you brothers with
that—
none will accuse Kolbein Borghildsson of goading on his half-brother to ill-timed high-mindedness.”
“Have a care of yourself, young sniveller—Father’s name has always stood next to Tore of Hov’s. Our stock is just as good as Aasa’s offspring—mind that, Olav; and don’t sit there fondling my kinswomen—take your paw out of her lap, and quick about it!”
Olav jumped up and they were at each other. Ingunn and Arnvid ran to part them. Then it was that Steinfinn rose and called for silence.
The house-folk, men and women, and the strangers drew toward the table. Steinfinn stood leaning on his wife’s shoulder—he was no longer red in the face, but white and sunken under the eyes. But he smiled and held himself erect as he spoke: “Now I will give you thanks, all you who were with me in this deed—first will I thank you, brother, and your sons, and then my dear cousin, Arnvid Finnsson, and you others, good kinsmen and trusty men. If God will, we shall soon have peace and atonement for these things
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