‘We can bring in that vetch stack any time,’ they said.
The harvest was stored in the barns, and a good harvest it was. There had been none such since the day that Gunnar had fared from Lithend with Kolskegg, and had returned to his ruin. One day, when Grim and Helgi, Njal’s sons, had ridden away to Holar to see their children, who were at nurse there, they heard strange tidings from some poor woman, that the country side was stirring and that bands of men were gathering together, and were seen riding along the same road.
At this news Grim and Helgi looked at each other.
‘Let us go home to Bergthorasknoll,’ said they.
Now they had told their mother they would sleep that night at Holar, with their children, so she gave no thought to them; but in the evening, when the hour had come to prepare supper, Bergthora bade every man choose whatever dish he liked best, ‘for,’ said she, ‘this is the last food you will eat in this house!’
‘Of a truth you must be ill to speak such words,’ cried they.
‘They are true words,’ she said again; ‘and that you may know them to be true, I will give you a sign. Before the meat that is on the board to-night is eaten, Grim and Helgi will be in the house!’ and she held her peace and went out.
When the food was prepared, Bergthora called to them, and all sat down but Njal, who lingered in the doorway.
‘What hinders you eating with the rest?’ asked Bergthora; and Njal, as he answered, put his hand before his eyes.
‘A vision has come to me,’ he said slowly—‘the wall is thrown down, and the board is wet with blood.’