"Well," said she to her son Thorarin, "is it said of thee that thou art
more a woman than a man, or thou wouldst not bear these intolerable
affronts."

Thorarin, fired at the reproach, rushed forth with his servants and
guests; a skirmish soon disturbed the legal process which had been
instituted, and one or two of both parties were wounded and slain before
the wife of Thorarin and the female attendants could separate the fray
by flinging their mantles over the weapons of the combatants.

Thorbiorn and his party retreating, Thorarin proceeded to examine the
field of battle. Alas! among the reliques of the fight was a bloody
hand too slight and fair to belong to any of the combatants. It was that
of his wife Ada, who had met this misfortune in her attempts to separate
the foes. Incensed to the uttermost, Thorarin threw aside his
constitutional moderation, and, mounting on horseback, with his allies
and followers, pursued the hostile party, and overtook them in a
hay-field, where they had halted to repose their horses, and to exult
over the damage they had done to Thorarin. At this moment he assailed
them with such fury that he slew Thorbiorn upon the spot, and killed
several of his attendants, although Oddo, the son of Katla, escaped free
from wounds, having been dressed by his mother in an invulnerable
garment. After this action, more blood being shed than usual in an
Icelandic engagement, Thorarin returned to Mahfahlida, and, being
questioned by his mother concerning the events of the skirmish, he
answered in the improvisatory and enigmatical poetry of his age and
country--

"From me the foul reproach be far,