Here is my hand. Thou art a warrior indeed; stouter strokes than these has old Örnulf never given or taken.
Sigurd.
[Seizes his outstretched hand.] Let them be the last strokes given and taken between us two; and be thou thyself the judge in the matter between us. Art willing?
Örnulf.
That am I, and straightway shall the quarrel be healed. [To the others.] Be the matter, then, known to all. Five winters ago came Sigurd and Gunnar Headman as vikings to Iceland; they lay in harbour close under my homestead. Then Gunnar, by force and craft, carried away my foster-daughter, Hiördis; but thou, Sigurd, didst take Dagny, my own child, and sailed with her over the sea. For that I now doom thee to pay three hundred pieces of silver, and thereby shall thy misdeed be atoned.
Sigurd.
Fair is thy judgment, Örnulf; the three hundred pieces will I pay, and add thereto a silken cloak fringed with gold. ’Tis a gift from King Æthelstan of England, and better has no Icelander yet borne.
Dagny.
Well said, my brave husband; and my father, I thank thee. Now at last is my mind at ease.
[She presses her father’s and brothers’ hands, and talks low to them.