Kolbein.—See, wife, now fly the swans from Holar in Hjaltadale.
Botolf (to DEACON SIGURD).—He is dreaming about the messengers of the Holy Church, the sick man!
Sigurd (to BISHOP BOTOLF).—He will not live till to-morrow's matins!
Helga (bending down over KOLBEIN).—Appoint Thorolf Bjarnason!
Broddi.—Who is to get Eyafirth?
Brand.—I heard no one named.
Kolbein.—I name you, Thorolf Bjarnason!
Broddi.—For what do you name Thorolf Bjarnason?
Helga.—For the chieftainship over Eyafirth and all districts north of the Heath.
Broddi.—I claim that I have better title to it than Thorolf.