"So hands, it seems, are better than heads," put in Helgi.
"Know this at least," exclaimed Ketill, "your sons have perished before you. I slew them in the outset of the battle."
The dying man laughed a ghastly laugh.
"My sons!" he cried. "Think you I would trust my sons with
Norsemen? Those boys were thralls. They died for their country as
I die," and his head fell back upon the snow.
"Dastard!" cried Ketill, "you die indeed."
He raised his sword as he spoke; but Estein caught his arm before it could descend, saying,—
"You cannot slay the dead, Ketill."
"Has he baulked me then?" said Ketill, bending over his fallen foe.
It was even so. The lawman had gone to his last account, his bolt impotently shot, and his enemies standing triumphantly over him.
"He at least died well," said Helgi; "when my turn comes may it be my luck to look as proudly on my foes. But tell us, Ketill, what befell you here since our parting."