"It is only the old ram, brother," said Illugi. "He is butting, because he wants to come in."
"He butts hard! he butts hard!" muttered Grettir, and at that moment the door burst open. They saw faces looking in.
Illugi was on his feet in a moment. He seized his sword, flew to the doorway and defended it bravely, so that no one could pass through.
Thorbiorn called to some of the men to get upon the roof, and he was obeyed. The hovel was low, and in a moment four or five were on top of it tearing off the turf that covered it. Grettir tried to rise to his feet, but could only stagger to his knees. He seized his spear and drove it through the roof, so that it struck Karr in the breast, and the wound was his death.
Thorbiorn Hook called to the men to act more warily—they were twenty-five in all against two men, and one dying.
So the men pulled at the gable ends of the house and got the ridge-piece out, that it broke and fell, and with it a shower of turfs, into the hut.
Grettir drew his short-sword—the sword he had taken from the barrow of Karr the Old—and smote at the men as they leaped upon him from the wall. With one blow he struck Vikarr over the left shoulder, as he was on the point of springing down. The sword cut off his arm. But the blow was so violent, that Grettir, having dealt it, fell forward, and before he could raise himself Thorbiorn Hook struck him between the shoulders, and made a fearful wound.
Then cried Grettir, "Bare is the back without brother behind it!" and instantly Illugi threw his shield over him, planted one foot on each side of him as he lay on the floor, and defended him with desperate courage.
ILLUGI DEFENDS THE DYING GRETTIR.