Kåre.
[Going off.] Well well, I must shift for myself as best I may. But this I tell you: if ye think to deal gently with Hiördis, ye will come to rue it. I know her—and I know where to strike her sorest! [Goes down towards the shore.
Dagny.
He is hatching some revenge. Sigurd, it must be hindered!
Örnulf.
[Angrily.] Nay, let him do as he will; she is worth no better!
Dagny.
That meanest thou not; bethink thee, she is thy foster-child.
Örnulf.
Woe worth the day when I took her under my roof! Jökul's words begin to come true.
Sigurd.
Jökul's?
ÖRNULF.
Ay, her father's. When I gave him his death-wound he fell back upon the sward, and fixed his eyes on me and sang:
Jökul's kin for Jökul's slayer
many a woe shall still be weaving;
Jökul's hoard whoe'er shall harry
thence shall harvest little gladness.
When he had sung that, he was silent awhile, and laughed; and thereupon he died.
Sigurd.
Why should'st thou heed his words?
