Gunnar had already wounded eight men and slain those twain.[28] By that time Gunnar had got two wounds, and all men said that he never once winced either at wounds or death.

Then Gunnar said to Hallgerda, “Give me two locks of thy hair, and ye two, my mother and thou, twist them together into a bowstring for me.”

“Does aught lie on it?” she says.

“My life lies on it,” he said; “for they will never come to close quarters with me if I can keep them off with my bow.”

“Well!” she says, “now I will call to thy mind that slap on the face which thou gavest me; and I care never a whit whether thou holdest out a long while or a short.”

Then Gunnar sang a song—­

  Each who hurls the gory javelin
  Hath some honour of his own,
  Now my helpmeet wimple-hooded
  Hurries all my fame to earth. 
  No one owner of a war-ship
  Often asks for little things,
  Woman, fond of Frodi’s flour,[29]
  Wends her hand as she is wont.

“Every one has something to boast of,” says Gunnar, “and I will ask thee no more for this.”

“Thou behavest ill,” said Rannveig, “and this shame shall long be had in mind.”

Gunnar made a stout and bold defence, and now wounds other eight men with such sore wounds that many lay at death’s door.  Gunnar keeps them all off until he fell worn out with toil.  Then they wounded him with many and great wounds, but still he got away out of their hands, and held his own against them a while longer, but at last it came about that they slew him.

Of this defence of his, Thorkell the Skald of Goeta-Elf sang in the verses which follow—­

  We have heard how south in Iceland
  Gunnar guarded well himself,
  Boldly battle’s thunder wielding,
  Fiercest Iceman on the wave;
  Hero of the golden collar,
  Sixteen with the sword he wounded;
  In the shock that Odin loveth,
  Two before him lasted death.

But this is what Thormod Olaf’s son sang—­

  None that scattered sea’s bright sunbeams,[30]
  Won more glorious fame than Gunnar,
  So runs fame of old in Iceland,
  Fitting fame of heathen men;
  Lord of fight when helms were crashing,
  Lives of foeman twain he took,
  Wielding bitter steel he sorely
  Wounded twelve, and four besides.

Then Gizur spoke and said:  “We have now laid low to earth a mighty chief, and hard work has it been, and the fame of this defence of his shall last as long as men live in this land”.

After that he went to see Rannveig and said, “Wilt thou grant us earth here for two of our men who are dead, that they may lie in a cairn here?”

“All the more willingly for two,” she says, “because I wish with all my heart I had to grant it to all of you.”

“It must be forgiven thee,” he says, “to speak thus, for thou hast had a great loss.”

Then he gave orders that no man should spoil or rob anything there.