_ORMILD totters up the hall from pillar to pillar._

ASTRID, _entering by the das door._ Now they have found the weather-ropes and lashed them Over the carven ends of the beams outside: They bear on them, they tighten them with levers, And soon they'll tear the high roof off the hall.

GUNNAR.

Get back and bolt the women into the bower.

_ASTRID takes ORMILD, who has just reached her, and goes out with her by the das door, which closes after them._

Hallgerd, go in: I shall be here thereafter.

HALLGERD.

I will not stir. Your mother had best go in.

RANNVEIG.

How shall I stir?

VOICES, _outside and gathering volume._ Ai ... Ai ... Reach harder ... Ai ...

GUNNAR.

Stand clear, stand clear--it moves.

THE VOICES. It moves ... Ai, ai ...

_The whole roof slides down rumblingly, disappearing with a crash behind the wall of the house. All is dark above. Fine snow sifts down now and then to the end of the play._

GUNNAR, _handling his bow._ The wind has changed: 'tis coming on to snow.

The harvesters will hurry in to-morrow.

THORBRAND THORLEIKSSON _appears above the wall-top a little past_ GUNNAR, _and, reaching noiselessly with a sword, cuts_ GUNNAR'S _bowstring._

GUNNAR, _dropping the bow and seizing his bill._ Ay, Thorbrand, is it thou? That's a rare blade, To shear through hemp and gut.... Let your wife have it For snipping needle-yarn; or try it again.

THORBRAND, _raising his sword._ I must be getting back ere the snow thickens: So here's my message to the end--or farther.

Gunnar, this night it is time to start your journey And get you out of Iceland....

GUNNAR, _thrusting at_ THORBRAND _with the bill._ I think it is: So you shall go before me in the dark.

Wait for me when you find a quiet shelter.

THORBRAND _sinks backward from the wall and is heard to fall farther.

Immediately_ ASBRAND THORLEIKSSON _starts up in his place._

ASBRAND, _striking repeatedly with a sword._ O, down, down, down!

GUNNAR, _parrying the blows with the bill._ Ay, Asbrand, thou as well?

Thy brother Thorbrand was up here but now: He has gone back the other way, maybe-- Be hasty, or you'll not come up with him.

_He thrusts with the bill: ASBRAND lifts a shield before the blow._

Here's the first shield that I have seen to-night.

_The bill pierces the shield: ASBRAND disappears and is heard to fall.

GUNNAR turns from the cas.e.m.e.nt._

Hallgerd, my harp that had but one long string, But one low song, but one brief wingy flight, Is voiceless, for my bowstring is cut off.

Sever two locks of hair for my sake now, Spoil those bright coils of power, give me your hair, And with my mother twist those locks together Into a bowstring for me. Fierce small head, Thy stinging tresses shall scourge men forth by me.

HALLGERD.

Does ought lie on it?

GUNNAR. Nought but my life lies on it; For they will never dare to close on me If I can keep my bow bended and singing.

HALLGERD, _tossing back her hair._ Then now I call to your mind that bygone blow You gave my face; and never a whit do I care If you hold out a long time or a short.

GUNNAR.

Every man who has trod a war-ship's deck, And borne a weapon of pride, has a proud heart And asks not twice for any little thing.

Hallgerd, I'll ask no more from you, no more.

RANNVEIG, _tearing off her wimple._ She will not mar her honour of widowhood.

O, widows' manes are priceless.... Off, mean wimple-- I am a finished widow, why do you hide me?

Son, son who knew my bosom before hers, Look down and curse for an unreverend thing An old bald woman who is no use at last.

These bleachy threads, these tufts of death's first combing, And loosening heart-strings twisted up together Would not make half a bowstring. Son, forgive me....

GUNNAR.

A grasping woman's gold upon her head Is made for h.o.a.rding, like all other gold: A spendthrift woman's gold upon her head Is made for spending on herself. Let be-- She goes her heart's way, and I go to earth.

AUNUND'S _head rises above the wall near_ GUNNAR.

What, are you there?

AUNUND. Yes, Gunnar, we are here.

GUNNAR, _thrusting with the bill._ Then bide you there.

AUNUND'S _head sinks:_ THORGEIR'S _rises in the same place._

How many heads have you?

THORGEIR.

But half as many as the feet we grow on.

GUNNAR.

And I've not yet used up (_thrusting again_) all my hands.

_As he thrusts another man rises a little farther back, and leaps past him into the loft. Others follow, and GUNNAR is soon surrounded by many armed men, so that only the rising and falling of his bill is seen._

The threshing-floor is full.... Up, up, brain-biter!

We work too late to-night--up, open the husks.