AFTER THE BATTLE. 
361 
A certain Thormod is one of the Scalds (or Poets) 
in King Olaf’s army. The night before the battle he 
sings a spirited song at the King’s request, who gives 
him a gold ring from his finger in token of his 
approval. Thormod thanks him for the gift, and says, 
“It is my prayer, Sire, that we shall never part, 
either in life or death.” When the King receives 
his death wound Thormod is near him,—but, wounded 
himself, and so weak and weary that in a desperate 
onslaught by the King’s men,—nicknamed “ Dag's 
storm,”—he only stood by his comrade in the ranks , 
although he coidd do nothing. 
The noise of the battle has ceased; the King is 
lying dead where he fell. The very man who had 
dealt him his death wound has laid the body straight 
out on the ground, and spread a cloak over it. “ And 
when he wiped the blood from the face it was very 
beautiful, and there was red in the cheeks, as if he 
only slept.” 
Thormod, who had received a second wound as 
he stood in the ranks—(an arrow in his side, which he 
breaks off at the shaft),—wanders away towards a large 
barn, where other wounded men have taken refuge. 
