But Haki had received such severe wounds that he foresaw that his remaining days would be few. He had made ready a vessel which he prized very highly on account of its swiftness, beauty, and war power. He had it loaded with the bodies of high-born warriors that had fallen in battle, together with their weapons, and had a large pyre of tarred wood made on the ship. Then he bade his followers farewell, and told them that he was going to Odin, and ordered men to carry him, in full war dress, with chain-armor, helmet, sword, and shield, on board of his ship. Then he bade them to build a large pyre near the prow, and to lay him upon it.
After they had done so, he had the rudder adjusted and the sail hoisted and set, and much gold and many weapons placed on board. Then the tarred wood was kindled. The wind blew from the shore seaward; the burning ship sailed away, and the warriors bade Haki and his men a happy journey to Valhalla. Farther and farther the funeral pyre of Haki and his men went on its way. The flames rose higher and higher towards the sky; the sail burned, and at last the mast, looking like a tower of fire, fell upon the deck. The people believed that the higher the flames rose, the greater would be the welcome in Valhalla. Then the lurid glare of the flames became less and less brilliant, and, on a sudden, the ship went down into the deep. But Haki and his warriors had sailed to Valhalla, and the people said that this great deed of Haki would live forever in the memory of man, and would be sung by the scalds to the end of time.
During this time, Ivar and his foster-brothers had gathered a large host and made his vessels ready, for he intended to make war on the Viking raiders who infested the sea and brought trouble and insecurity upon the land. As they were being launched, Hjalmar’s ship struck one man as it came down the rollers, and killed him. This accident happened once in a great while at the launching of ships—an operation that was always attended with danger, the more so if it were not carefully done. Such an accident was called “roller-reddening,” and was considered a very bad omen, therefore the intended expedition was abandoned. Ivar and his foster-brothers thought that some faithless family spirits wished them evil, and had abandoned their watch over them.
The next day, when Ivar and Hjalmar were walking together, Ivar thought he saw a pet goat of his, which had been always in the habit of coming into the courtyard. No one was allowed to drive him away. Suddenly he said: “This is strange!”
“What dost thou see that seems strange to thee?” asked Hjalmar.
“It seems to me,” Ivar answered, “that the goat which lies in this hollow place is covered with blood.”
Hjalmar, astonished, answered him that there was no goat there, nor anything else.
“What is it, then?” inquired Ivar.
“I am afraid,” Hjalmar returned, “that thou must be a death-fated man, and that thou hast seen the spirit that follows and protects thee, warning thee of danger; and if not thyself, some of thy kinsmen may, perhaps, be fated to die. Guard thyself well, foster-brother. I will also watch carefully over thee, so will Sigurd and Sigmund.”