Now Thorvald the Tinker lived in the north-country at Svinadal (Swindale), but his brother Thorvard at Fliot. In the winter Cormac took his way northward to see Steingerd; and coming to Svinadal he dismounted and went into the chamber. She was sitting on the dais, and he took his seat beside her; Thorvald sat on the bench, and Narfi by him.
Then said Narfi to Thorvald, “How canst thou sit down, with Cormac here? It is no time, this, for sitting still!”
But Thorvald answered, “I am content; there is no harm done it seems to me, though they do talk together.”
“That is ill,” said Narfi.
Not long afterwards Thorvald met his brother Thorvard and told him about Cormac's coming to his house.
“Is it right, think you,” said Thorvard, “to sit still while such things happen?”
He answered that there was no harm done as yet, but that Cormac's coming pleased him not.
“I'll mend that,” cried Thorvard, “if you dare not. The shame of it touches us all.”
So this was the next thing,—that Thorvard came to Svinadal, and the Skiding brothers and Narfi paid a gangrel beggar-man to sing a song in the hearing of Steingerd, and to say that Cormac had made it,—which was a lie. They said that Cormac had taught this song to one called Eylaug, a kinswoman of his; and these were the words:—
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“I wish an old witch that I know of,
So wealthy and proud of her havings,
Were turned to a steed in the stable
—Called Steingerd—and I were the rider!
I'd bit her, and bridle, and saddle,
I'd back her and drive her and tame her;
So many she owns for her masters,
But mine she will never become!”