The morning bell dinned in our ears, and again all Iceland tumbled out of its tent, plunged its face in cold river water, brushed its teeth with a birch twig, and put on its finery—all in a great state of excitement, because today was the day set aside for trials. Before this day was out, there would likely be corpses on the grass. What else but this, after all, drew the gawking crowds and made the Althing worthwhile? Sigmund Tit-Bit began complaining as soon as his eyes were open. Gunnar flung a hooded cloak at him, telling him to put it on and stop his squawking until time came for him to testify. “And then just you do your part, my friend.” “Do my part? Christ and Thor, don’t you worry about me doin’ my part. Just you see to it that Strife-Hrut doesn’t have off my head first … friend.” “Odd,” said Jorunn, crawling out of the tent, “your father wants you.” The look in her eyes told me something was wrong. I found him crouching at the back of the tent with his arms around his belly.
