Helgi.—No! (Stretches forth both his hands.) Give me your hands, my sons. (BRAND and BRODDI clasp them.) The very next time Asbjorn Illugason meets you, Broddi, he means to exchange blows with you.
Broddi.—Glad I am that Kolbein, my brother-in-law, at least does not bid some contemptible wretch to dispatch me. (HELGI SKAFTASON leads out the CLERK HELGI.) The bishop's letter! The bishop's letter!
Sigurd (reads).—Botolf of Holar, a poor servant of the Holy Church and prisoner at Flugumyr, sends to Brand Kolbeinsson and his friends God's greetings and his. Pax vobiscum! You and your companions are not to put overmuch trust in the fortifications of Holar, because from the church, the dwelling house, and outhouses in the inclosure there lead secret passages into them which are known to Kolbein the Young, but not to me.
Broddi.—And that he could not have told us before, the hell-hound!
Sigurd (reads).—Through the eggings on of Helga his wife, Kolbein is now become so frantic and furious that some of my clerks think he cannot suffer the sound of a bell. He has threatened to break down the fort of Holar, to spare no one, and has promised his Lady Helga the life of a man, whomever she will choose.
Broddi (laughs).—I wonder whether she will have my life?
Brand.—No. It will be my life she desires.
Jorun.—She shall never have it.
Alf.—My head she wants, the vixen!
Helgi.—I need not guess whose life it will be.