Jarngrim.—­Near they sit to me, whenever good prey is near.

Thorolf.—­Who has made you an outlaw?

Jarngrim.—­The White Christ.

Thorolf.—­Excommunicated then you are!  Bishop Botolf will absolve you if you confess to him your troubles.

Jarngrim.—­Never would Botolf admit me to church if he knew who I am.

Thorolf.—­Give some of your property to the church for absolution.

Jarngrim.—­The temples of the White God have taken possession of all my goods, except my horse and my hawks,—­we four still journey together.

Thorolf.—­Become my follower and accompany me to Eyafirth, if Kolbein the Young dies.

Jarngrim.—­Kolbein the Young will not die.  But to be your man, Thorolf, I care not, because you pursue your ends to excess, small means as you have.  It will never end well.

Thorolf.—­How can you know that, you who are ignorant of all?

Jarngrim.—­An old man knows that a man’s character is his destiny.

Thorolf.—­Go then and serve Kolbein the Young if he lives.

Jarngrim.—­Oft was I a follower of Kolbein.

Thorolf.—­How may that be, then, that I know you not?

Jarngrim.—­The haughty heed not though they see a sage.  Most men knew me in former times, but few know me now.  Small has become the number of my friends.

Thorolf.—­Now I recognize you, friend.  I saw you in the battle of Orlygsstad, when you stood over the corpse of Sighvat Sturluson.

Jarngrim.—­A great friend of mine was Sighvat.

Thorolf.—­And a short time ago, when you stood over the body of Tumi Sighvatsson, at Reykholar.  You turned your back to the church.  And whither are you journeying now?

Jarngrim.—­Thither where tidings are near.  Whenever I come down the mountain side there arises tumult in the valleys; wherever I remain all day great battles are fought.  The Norns have decreed all that.  But now men say that the White God is about to come from the south, with great splendor, and that he will bring with him peace.  I ween it will prove a lie.

Thorolf.—­Decreed by the Norns!  You must be an old man?

Jarngrim.—­I was Ingolf’s the First Settler’s pilot on his journey to Iceland.

Thorolf.—­I am not a book-learned man; yet must you, then, be exceedingly old and yet are not gray-haired.

Jarngrim.—­I and my likes grow not gray.

Thorolf.—­Will you tell me where I am?

Jarngrim.—­This is the cave by Kolbein’s stream.

Thorolf (shudders).—­I have heard it mentioned!  But what do you here?

Jarngrim.—­I gather shields for my roof.

Thorolf.—­Shields?

Jarngrim.—­Those that drop from the hands of men slain in battle.