The Life and Death of Cormac the Skald [Iceland] | Page 8

rode up, with his shield and sword, and carried on strangely, rolling his
eyes about like a hunted beast. Some men were up on the wall with
Cormac when he came, and his horse shied at them. Said Cormac, --
"What news, Narfi? What folk were with you last night?"
"Small tidings, but we had guests enough," answered he.
"Who were the guests?"
"There was Holmgang Bersi, with seventeen more to sit at his
wedding."
"Who was the bride?"
"Bersi wed Steingerd Thorkel's daughter," said Narfi. "When they were
gone she sent me here to tell thee the news."
"Thou hast never a word but ill," said Cormac, and leapt upon him and
struck at the shield: and as it slipped aside he was smitten on the breast
and fell from his horse; and the horse ran away with the shield (hanging
to it).
Cormac's brother Thorgils said this was too much. "It serves him right,"
cried Cormac. And when Narfi woke out of his swoon they got speech
of him.
Thorgils asked, "What manner of men were at the wedding?"
Narfi told him.
"Did Steingerd know this before?"
"Not till the very evening they came," answered he; and then told of his
dealings with Vigi, saying that Cormac would find it easier to whistle

on Steingerd's tracks and go on a fool's errand than to fight Bersi. Then
said Cormac: --
(21)
"Now see to thy safety henceforward,
And stick to thy horse
and thy buckler;
Or this mallet of mine, I can tell thee,
Will meet
with thine ear of a surety.
Now say no more stories of feasting,

Though seven in a day thou couldst tell of,
Or bumps thou shalt comb
on thy brainpan,
Thou that breakest the howes of the dead.
Thorgils asked about the settlements between Bersi and Steingerd. Her
kinsmen, said Narfi, were now quit of all farther trouble about that
business, however it might turn out; but her father and brother would
be answerable for the wedding.
CHAPTER EIGHT
How Cormac Chased Bersi And His Bride.
Cormac took his horse and weapons and saddle-gear.
"What now, brother?" asked Thorgils.
He answered: --
(22)
"My bride, my betrothed has been stolen,
And Bersi the raider
has robbed me.
I who offer the song-cup of Odin --
Who else? --
should be riding beside her.
She loved me -- no lord of them better:

I have lost her -- for me she is weeping:
The dear, dainty darling that
kissed me,
For day upon day of delight."
Said Thorgils, "A risky errand is this, for Bersi will get home before
you catch him. And yet I will go with thee."
Cormac said he would away and bide for no man. He leapt on his horse
forthwith, and galloped as hard as he could. Thorgils made haste to
gather men, -- they were eighteen in all, -- and came up with Cormac
on the hause that leads to Hrutafiord, for he had foundered his horse. So
they turned to Thorveig the spaewife's farmsteading, and found that
Bersi was gone aboard her boat.

She had said to Bersi, "I wish thee to take a little gift from me, and
good luck follow it."
This was a target bound with iron; and she said she reckoned Bersi
would hardly be hurt if he carried it to shield him, -- "but it is little
worth beside this steading thou hast given me." He thanked her for the
gift, and so they parted. Then she got men to scuttle all the boats on the
shore, because she knew beforehand that Cormac and his folk were
coming.
When they came and asked her for a boat, she said she would do them
no kindness without payment; -- "Here is a rotten boat in the boathouse
which I would lend for half a mark."
Thorgils said it would be in reason if she asked two ounces of silver.
Such matters, said Cormac, should not stand in the way; but Thorgils
said he would sooner ride all round the water-head. Nevertheless
Cormac had his will, and they started in the boat; but they had scarcely
put off from shore when it filled, and they had hard work to get back to
the same spot.
"Thou shouldst pay dearly for this, thou wicked old hag," said Cormac,
"and never be paid at all."
That was no mighty trick to play them, she said; and so Thorgils paid
her the silver; about which Cormac made this song: --
(23)
"I'm a tree that is tricked out in war-gear,
She, the trim rosy elf
of the shuttle:
And I break into singing about her
Like the bat at the
well, never ceasing.
With the dew-drops of Draupnir the golden

Full dearly folk buy them their blessings;
Then lay down three ounces
and leave them
For the leaky old boat that we borrowed."
Bersi got hastily to horse, and rode homewards; and when