Then said one of the earl’s men, called Thorir: “He swaggereth hugely, this Icelander! It would not be amiss to try him a little.”
Gunnlaug looked at him and sang:—
“A courtman there is
Full evil I wis,
A bad man and black,
Belief let him lack.”
Then would Thorir seize an axe. The earl spake: “Let it be,” says he; “to such things men should pay no heed. But now, Icelander, how old a man art thou?”
Gunnlaug answers: “I am eighteen winters old as now,” says he.
Then says Earl Eric, “My spell is that thou shalt not live eighteen winters more.”
Gunnlaug said, somewhat under his breath: “Pray not against me, but for thyself rather.”
The earl asked thereat, “What didst thou say, Icelander?”
Gunnlaug answers, “What I thought well befitting, that thou shouldst bid no prayers against me, but pray well for thyself rather.”
“What prayers, then?” says the earl.