round the land,
Lampoons and lies, with ready hand.
Yet this landlouper we all know,
In Africa scarce fed a crow,
Of all his arms used in the field,
Those in most use were helm and shield."

Arne sprang up instantly, drew his sword, and was going to fall upon
him; but Hakon told him to let it alone and be quiet, and bade him
remember that if it came to a quarrel he would come off the worst
himself. Thorarin afterwards went up to the king, and said he had
composed a poem which he wished the king to hear. The king consented,
and the song is known by the name of the Stutfeld poem. The king asked
Thorarin what he intended to do. He replied, it was his intention to go
to Rome. Then the king gave him much money for his pilgrimage, and told
him to visit him on his return, and promised to provide for him.

ENDNOTES: (1) Morstrut is a short, fat, punchy fellow.--L.

30. OF SIGURD AND OTTAR BIRTING.

It is told that King Sigurd, one Whitsunday, sat at table with many
people, among whom were many of his friends; and when he came to his
high-seat, people saw that his countenance was very wild, and as if he
had been weeping, so that people were afraid of what might follow.
The king rolled his eyes, and looked at those who were seated on the
benches. Then he seized the holy book which he had brought with him
from abroad, and which was written all over with gilded letters; so that
never had such a costly book come to Norway. His queen sat by his side.
Then said King Sigurd, "Many are the changes which may take place during
a man's lifetime. I had two things which were dear to me above all when
I came from abroad, and these were this book and the queen; and now
I think the one is only worse and more loathsome than the other, and
nothing I have belonging to me that I more detest. The queen does not
know herself how hideous she is; for a goat's horn is standing out on
her head, and the better I liked her before the worse I like her
now." Thereupon he cast the book on the fire which was burning on the
hall-floor, and gave the queen a blow with his fist between the eyes.
The queen wept; but more at the king's' illness than at the blow, or the
affront she had suffered.

Then a man stood up before the king; his name was Ottar Birting; and he
was one of the torch-bearers, although a bonde's son, and was on service
that day. He was of small stature, but of agreeable appearance; lively,
bold, and full