"Hard wilt thou find it to handle," said Skeggi. "There is a pouch to it, and that thou shalt let be. Sun must not shine on the pommel of the hilt. Thou shalt not wear it until fighting is forward, and when ye come to the field, sit all alone and then draw it. Hold the edge toward thee, and blow on it. Then will a little worm creep from under the hilt. Then slope thou the sword over, and make it easy for that worm to creep back beneath the hilt."

"Here's a tale of tricks, thou warlock!" cried Cormac

"Nevertheless," answered Skeggi, "it will stand thee in good stead to know them."

So Cormac rode home and told his mother, saying that her will was of great avail with Skeggi. He showed the sword, and tried to draw it, but it would not leave the sheath.

"Thou are over wilful, my son," said she.

Then he set his feet against the hilts, and pulled until he tore the pouch off, at which Skofnung creaked and groaned, but never came out of the scabbard.

Well, the time wore on, and the day came. He rode away with fifteen men; Bersi also rode to the holm with as many. Cormac came there first, and told Thorgils that he would sit apart by himself. So he sat down and ungirt the sword.

Now, he never heeded whether the sun shone upon the hilt, for he had girt the sword on him outside his clothes. And when he tried to draw it he could not, until he set his feet upon the hilts. Then the little worm came, and was not rightly done by; and so the sword came groaning and creaking out of the scabbard, and the good luck of it was gone.

CHAPTER TEN. The Fight On Leidarholm.

After that Cormac went to his men. Bersi and his party had come by that time, and many more to see the fight.

Cormac took up Bersi's target and cut at it, and sparks flew out.

Then a hide was taken and spread for them to stand on. Bersi spoke and said, "Thou, Cormac, hast challenged me to the holmgang; instead of that, I offer thee to fight in simple sword-play. Thou art a young man and little tried; the holmgang needs craft and cunning, but sword-play, man to man, is an easy game."

Cormac answered, "I should fight no better even so. I will run the risk, and stand on equal footing with thee, every way."

"As thou wilt," said Bersi.

It was the law of the holmgang that the hide should be five ells long, with loops at its corners. Into these should be driven certain pins with heads to them, called tjosnur. He who made it ready should go to the pins in such a manner that he could see sky between his legs, holding the lobes of his ears and speaking the forewords used in the rite called "The Sacrifice of the tjosnur." Three squares should be marked round the hide, each one foot broad. At the outermost corners of the squares should be four poles, called hazels; when this is done, it is a hazelled field. Each man should have three shields, and when they were cut up he must get upon the hide if he had given way from it before, and guard himself with his weapons alone thereafter. He who had been challenged should strike the first stroke. If one was wounded so that blood fell upon the hide, he should fight no longer. If either set one foot outside the hazel poles "he went on his heel," they said; but he "ran" if both feet were outside. His own man was to hold the shield before each of the fighters. The one who was wounded should pay three marks of silver to be set free.

So the hide was taken and spread under their feet. Thorgils held his brother's shield, and Thord Arndisarson that of Bersi. Bersi struck the first blow, and cleft Cormac's shield; Cormac struck at Bersi to the like peril. Each of them cut up and spoilt three shields of the other's. Then it was Cormac's turn. He struck at Bersi, who parried with Whitting. Skofnung cut the point off Whitting in front of the ridge. The sword-point flew upon Cormac's hand, and he was wounded in the thumb.

The joint was cleft, and blood dropped upon the hide. Thereupon folk went between them and stayed the fight.

Then said Cormac, "This is a mean victory that Bersi has gained; it is only from my bad luck; and yet we must part."

He flung down his sword, and it met Bersi's target. A shard was broken out of Skofnung, and fire flew out of Thorveig's gift.

Bersi asked the money for release, Cormac said it would be paid; and so they parted.

CHAPTER ELEVEN. The Songs That Were Made About The Fight.

Steinar was the name of a man who was the son of Onund the Seer, and brother of Dalla, Cormac's mother. He was an unpeaceful man, and lived at Ellidi.

Thither rode Cormac from the holme, to see his kinsman, and told him of the fight, at which he was but ill pleased. Cormac said he meant to leave the country,--"And I want thee to take the money to Bersi."

"Thou art no bold man," said Steinar, "but the money shall be paid if need be."

Cormac was there some nights; his hand swelled much, for it was not dressed.

After that meeting, Holmgang Bersi went to see his brother. Folk asked how the holmgang had gone, and when he told them they said that two bold men had struck small blows, and he had gained the victory only through Cormac's mishap. When Bersi met Steingerd, and she asked how it went, he made this verse:--

(26) "They call him, and truly they tell it, A tree of the helmet right n.o.ble: But the master of manhood must bring me Three marks for his ransom and rescue.

Though stout in the storm of the bucklers In the stress of the Valkyrie's tempest He will bid me no more to the battle, For the best of the struggle was ours."

Steinar and Cormac rode from Ellidi and pa.s.sed through Saurbae. They saw men riding towards them, and yonder came Bersi. He greeted Cormac and asked how the wound was getting on. Cormac said it needed little to be healed.

"Wilt thou let me heal thee?" said Bersi; "though from me thou didst get it: and then it will be soon over."

Cormac said nay, for he meant to be his lifelong foe. Then answered Bersi:--

(27) "Thou wilt mind thee for many a season How we met in the high voice of Hilda.

Right fain I go forth to the spear-mote Being fitted for every encounter.

There Cormac's gay shield from his clutches I clave with the bane of the bucklers, For he scorned in the battle to seek me If we set not the lists of the holmgang."

Thus they parted; and then Cormac went home to Mel and saw his mother.

She healed his hand; it had become ugly and healed badly. The notch in Skofnung they whetted, but the more they whetted the bigger it was.

So he went to Reykir, and flung Skofnung at Skeggi's feet, with this verse:--

(28) "I bring thee, thus broken and edgeless, The blade that thou gavest me, Skeggi!

I warrant thy weapon could bite not: I won not the fight by its witchcraft.

No gain of its virtue nor glory I got in the strife of the weapons, When we met for to mingle the sword-storm For the maiden my singing adorns."

Said Skeggi, "It went as I warned thee." Cormac flung forth and went home to Mel: and when he met with Dalla he made this song:--

(29) "To the field went I forth, O my mother The flame of the armlet who guardest,-- To dare the cave-dweller, my foeman And I deemed I should smite him in battle.

But the brand that is bruited in story It brake in my hand as I held it; And this that should thrust men to slaughter Is thwarted and let of its might.

(30) For I borrowed to bear in the fighting No blunt-edged weapon of Skeggi: There is strength in the serpent that quivers By the side of the land of the girdle.

But vain was the virtue of Skofnung When he vanquished the sharpness of Whitting; And a shard have I shorn, to my sorrow, From the shearer of ringleted mail.

(31) Yon tusker, my foe, wrought me trouble When targe upon targe I had carven: For the thin wand of slaughter was shattered And it sundered the ground of my handgrip.

Loud bellowed the bear of the sea-king When he brake from his lair in the scabbard, At the hest of the singer, who seeketh The sweet hidden draught of the G.o.ds.

(32) Afar must I fare, O my mother, And a fate points the pathway before me, For that white-wreathen tree may woo not --Two wearisome morrows her outcast.

And it slays me, at home to be sitting, So set is my heart on its G.o.ddess, As a lawn with fair linen made lovely --I can linger no third morrow's morn."

After that, Cormac went one day to Reykir and talked with Skeggi, who said the holmgang had been brought to scorn. Then answered Cormac:--

(33) "Forget it, O Frey of the helmet, --Lo, I frame thee a song in atonement-- That the bringer of blood, even Skofnung, I bare thee so strangely belated.

For by stirrers of storm was I wounded; They smote me where perches the falcon: But the blade that I borrowed, O Skeggi, Was borne in the clashing of edges.

(34) I had deemed, O thou Grey of fighting, Of the fierce song of Odin,--my neighbour, I had deemed that a brand meet for bloodshed I bare to the crossways of slaughter.

Nay,--thy glaive, it would gape not nor ravin Against him, the rover who robbed me: And on her, as the surge on the shingle, My soul beats and breaks evermore."