that the curse must be so wholly fulfilled upon me, that I
must be entirely blinded before death.

"Fain would I have looked closely into thy face, my dear son.

"Now I know not if the golden cloud I saw spread about thy head was thy
hair or the sun rays.

"Thou seemedst to me fair to look upon, my boy.

"But tell me, how do they call thee?

"Have they verily, at thy birth, named thee Liarson Scoundrelson
Harthildsvengeance? and how did it happen that thou camest into life. I
believed Dame Harthild burned in the dwelling house."

Then I laid my dear father's head upon my knees, and dried with the
long yellow hair I was at that time still allowed to wear, the blood
from his cheek, and told him all.

How my mother would not be carried from the burning Mead hall back into
the dwelling house, but rather on to one of the ships of her father.

How from thence, when the battle and the flames threatened dwelling
house and ships, she was borne by her women and the sailors into a
boat, and therein rowed out upon the Fjord.

How in the boat she had forthwith given birth to a son, but died
herself; and ere she died had laid her hand upon my head, and said--

"Not Liarson--not Scoundrelson--not Harthildsvengeance shall he be
named--no; Fridgifa Sigskaldson."[6]

"She was right in that," said Halfred. "Thou hast aided the Sigskald to
peace at last."

And how after she was dead the fearful battle and burning on shore
scared the sailors and women still further out to sea.

And how the small boat was almost sunk by the fury of a storm from the
west, and all the bondmen and women were washed overboard by the waves,
save one rower, and a bond maiden, who hid the infant under the stern
seat.

And how, at last, Christian priests, who were sailing out to convert
the heathen people, picked up the half starved wanderers, and brought
all three hither, to the island of the holy Columban; and cleansed both
the two, and the infant, with the water of baptism.

And how the two, my foster parents, told me all that they knew about my
father, and mother, up to the time of the burning of the Mead hall.

And how the two were never weary of lauding to me my father's glory in
battle and song.

And how the monks of Saint Columban, as I grew, would have me taught to
read and write; but I loved far better to go out with the hunters and
shepherds of the monastery, and liked to draw targets on the parchment
leaves for my little cross-bow.