To which he answered:—
(12)
“Black-puddings boiled, quoth Ogmund's son,
Are a dainty,—fair befall them!”
And in the evening when Cormac made ready to go home he saw Narfi, and bethought him of those churlish words. “I think, Narfi,” said he, “I am more like to knock thee down, than thou to rule my coming and going.” And with that struck him an axe-hammer-blow, saying:—
(13)
“Why foul with thy clowning and folly,
The food that is dressed for thy betters?
Thou blundering archer, what ails thee
To be aiming thy insults at me?”
And he made another song about:—
(14)
“He asked me, the clavering cowherd
If I cared for—what was it he called them?—
The worms of the kettle. I warrant
He'll be wiping his eyes by the hearth-stone.
I deem that yon knave of the dunghill
Who dabbles the muck on the meadow
—Yon rook in his mud-spattered raiment—
Got a rap for his noise—like a dog.”
CHAPTER FIVE. They Waylay Cormac: And The Witch Curses Him.
There was a woman named Thorveig, and she knew a deal too much. She lived at Steins-stadir (Stonestead) in Midfiord, and had two sons; the elder was Odd, and the younger Gudmund. They were great braggarts both of them.
This Odd often came to see Thorkel at Tunga, and used to sit and talk with Steingerd. Thorkel made a great show of friendship with the brothers, and egged them on to waylay Cormac. Odd said it was no more than he could do.