After that, Thorvard was soon healed, and when he thought he was strong again, he rode to Mel and challenged Cormac to the holmgang.
"It takes thee long to tire of it," said Cormac: "but I'll not say thee nay."
So they went to the fight, and Thordis met Thorvard now as before, but Cormac sought no help from her. She blunted Cormac's sword, so that it would not bite, but yet he struck so great a stroke on Thorvard's shoulder that the collarbone was broken and his hand was good for nothing. Being so maimed he could fight no longer, and had to pay another ring for his ransom.
Then Thorolf of Spakonufell set upon Cormac and struck at him. He warded off the blow and sang this song: --
(73) "This reddener of shields, feebly wrathful, His rusty old sword waved against me, Who am singer and sacred to Odin! Go, snuffle, most wretched of men, thou! A thrust of thy sword is as thewless As thou, silly stirrer of battle. What danger to me from thy daring, Thou doited old witch-woman's carle?"
Then he killed a bull in sacrifice according to use and wont, saying, "Ill we brook your overbearing and the witchcraft of Thordis:" and he made this song: --
(74) "The witch in the wave of the offering Has wasted the flame of the buckler, Lest its bite on his back should be deadly At the bringing together of weapons. My sword was not sharp for the onset When I sought the helm-wearer in battle; But the cur got enough to cry craven, With a clout that will mind him of me!"
After that each party went home, and neither was well pleased with these doings.
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