you, Thorolf, shall swear to each other an everlasting truce, now
immediately.

_Brand_.--Is that your wish, kinsman Kolbein?

_Kolbein_.--It is. It is. Six hundred men! Advance bravely after me! My
kinsman Brand is in great danger.

_Broddi_.--Always it is you, Brand! Physician, attend to the sick man.

_Salvor_.--Carry your chieftain into his bed!

_Kolbein_.--Woden owns all the slain men! Neither Thord Kakali nor one
of his men will return alive over Blanda. Another battle won. A great
and glorious victory. Carry away the fallen, I will not see them. Woden
owns all the slain men.

_Botolf_.--So much devilish magic yet living in a Christian country! And
this man have I shriven but a short while ago! Woden owns all the slain
men! (KOLBEIN'S _men surround him to bear him out on their shields_.
HELGA _speaks fast and in a low voice to_ ASBJORN ILLUGASON.)

_Helga_.--Place our armed servants before all doors. And let them stay
there. And leave the doors open after you when you come in again.

_Kolbein_.--Woden owns all the slain men. You bleed, Thorolf Bjarnason.
Put on your head, Thorolf! Put on your head! Beware of the cave by the
Kolbeinstream!

(ASBJORN ILLUGASON, HAF, _and others carry_ KOLBEIN _out_. SALVOR