[Appalled.] None! [Softly.] And Thorolf, Thorolf!
[Deep emotion among the bystanders. Hiördis shows signs of a violent mental struggle; Dagny weeps silently by the high-seat on the right. Sigurd stands beside her, painfully agitated.
Örnulf.
[After a short pause.] It is hard for a many-branching pine to be stripped in a single storm. But men die and men live;—hand me a horn; I will drink to my sons’ memory. [One of Sigurd’s men gives him a horn.] Hail to you where now ye ride, my bold sons! Close upon your heels shall the bronze-gates not clang, for ye come to the hall with a great following. [Drinks, and hands back the horn.] And now home to Iceland! Örnulf has fought his last fight; the old tree has but one green branch left, and it must be shielded warily. Where is Thorolf?
Egil.
[To his father.] Ay, let me see Thorolf! Örnulf says he will carve me a ship with many, many warriors aboard.
Örnulf.
I praise all good wights that Thorolf came not with us; for if he too—nay, strong though I be, that had been too heavy for me to bear. But why comes he not? He was ever the first to meet his father; for to both of us it seemed we could not live apart a single day.
Gunnar.
Örnulf, Örnulf!