cleft, and blood dropped upon the hide. Thereupon folk
went between them and stayed the fight.

Then said Cormac, "This is a mean victory that Bersi has gained; it is
only from my bad luck; and yet we must part."

He flung down his sword, and it met Bersi's target. A shard was broken
out of Skofnung, and fire flew out of Thorveig's gift.

Bersi asked the money for release, Cormac said it would be paid; and so
they parted.

CHAPTER ELEVEN. The Songs That Were Made About The Fight.

Steinar was the name of a man who was the son of Onund the Seer, and
brother of Dalla, Cormac's mother. He was an unpeaceful man, and lived
at Ellidi.

Thither rode Cormac from the holme, to see his kinsman, and told him
of the fight, at which he was but ill pleased. Cormac said he meant to
leave the country,--"And I want thee to take the money to Bersi."

"Thou art no bold man," said Steinar, "but the money shall be paid if
need be."

Cormac was there some nights; his hand swelled much, for it was not
dressed.

After that meeting, Holmgang Bersi went to see his brother. Folk asked
how the holmgang had gone, and when he told them they said that two bold
men had struck small blows, and he had gained the victory only through
Cormac's mishap. When Bersi met Steingerd, and she asked how it went, he
made this verse:--

(26)
"They call him, and truly they tell it,
A tree of the helmet right noble:
But the master of manhood must bring me
Three marks for his ransom and rescue.
Though stout in the storm of the bucklers
In the stress of the Valkyrie's tempest
He will bid me no more to the battle,
For the best of the struggle was ours."

Steinar and Cormac rode from Ellidi and passed through Saurbae. They saw
men riding towards them, and yonder came Bersi. He greeted Cormac and
asked how the wound was getting on. Cormac said it needed little to be
healed.

"Wilt thou let me heal thee?" said Bersi; "though from me thou didst get
it: and then it will be soon over."

Cormac said nay, for he meant to be his lifelong foe. Then answered
Bersi:--

(27)
"Thou wilt mind thee for many a season
How we met in the high voice of Hilda.
Right fain I go forth to the spear-mote
Being fitted for every encounter.
There Cormac's gay shield from his clutches
I clave with the bane of the bucklers,
For he scorned in the battle to se