Skaftason behead him--just in play.

_Jorun_.--Don't cry any more, my boy. (_Caresses_ THORGEIR.) And you,
Kalf, do you want to have your father beheaded in your game? No more
such games! (_Slaps_ KALF.)

_Kalf_.--You slap me? I who am Kolbein the Young? So you think he will
allow himself to be slapped with impunity by a woman?

_Jorun_.--How does this lion's whelp come among us? I had rather not
live than bring up rovers. Never more play war, Kalf! Protect those that
are weak! (_Embraces_ THORGEIR, _leads the boys to the door, and calls
out_:) Put Kalf into the dark room for a while!

_Broddi_ (_shouts from without_).--I must get to speak with you, Brand
Kolbeinsson! Quick, quick!

_Jorun_.--Broddi here! There comes war incarnate mailed from head to
foot. May God have pity on all wives!

(_Enter_ BRAND _without arms and_ BRODDI _all armed_.)

_Broddi_.--You have collected a good and well-armed body of men?

_Brand_.--I have had great difficulty in gathering troops. I have only
my tenants and my servants, altogether eighty men.

_Broddi_.--And whilst I make the fort at Holar unconquerable, whilst I
break up the frozen ground, whilst I pour water over all the ramparts of
our stronghold so that they become like slippery ice--meanwhile you