_Kolbein_.--Then hear my decision: For the murder of Thorolf Bjarnason.
I decree a fine of eighteen marks silver, and also that those men who
may have fallen as part of the vengeance for Thorolf shall not be atoned
for.

_Brand_.--Agreed, kinsman Kolbein; the sum you demand for the slaying of
Thorolf shall be paid.

_Helga_.--How may this be, my husband? You have promised me a man's life
before this feud would be ended.

_Kolbein_.--Have I not demanded an exceedingly high compensation for
Thorolfs death?

_Helga_.--But Thorolf was slain in a pledged truce.

_Broddi_.--That truce was made under compulsion.

_Kolbein_.--The man's life you stipulated for yourself you have chosen
and taken yourself, or else, where is Helgi Skaftason?

(HELGA _is silent_.)

_Brand_.--Helgi Skaftason! Where is he?

_Botolf_.--His axe is there! (DEACON SIGURD _looks around_.) Are you
still carrying weapons, Deacon Sigurd? Clercs are not permitted to bear
arms.