Jatgeir.
Nay, but many unborn; they are conceived one after the other, come to life, and are brought forth.
King Skule.
And if I, who am King and have the might, if I were to have you slain, would all the unborn skald-thoughts you bear within you die along with you?
Jatgeir.
My lord, it is a great sin to slay a fair thought.
King Skule.
I ask not if it be a <g>sin</g>; I ask if it be <g>possible</g>!
Jatgeir.
I know not.
King Skule.
Have you never had another skald for your friend, and has he never unfolded to you a great and noble song he thought to make?
Jatgeir.
Yes, lord.
King Skule.
Did you not then wish that you could slay him, to take his thought and make the song yourself?
Jatgeir.
My lord, I am not barren; I have children of my own; I need not to love those of other men.
[Goes.
King Skule.
[After a pause.] The Icelander is in very deed a skald. He speaks God's deepest truth and knows
