"Now," I cried, "you have had your turn, and mine comes."
I drew the Wanderer's sword, and sprang at Odin. My first stroke sunk up to the hilt in his hollow belly; my next cut the sceptre from his hand; my third—a great one—hewed the head from off him. It came rattling down, and out of it crawled a viper, which reared itself up and hissed. I set my heel upon the reptile's head and crushed it, and slowly it writhed itself to death.
"Now, good folk," I cried, "what say you of your god Odin?"
They answered nothing, for all of them were in flight. Yes, even Leif fled, cursing me over his shoulder as he went.
Presently I was alone with the dead Steinar and the shattered god, and in that loneliness strange visions came to me, for I felt that I had done a mighty deed, one that made me happy. Round the wall of the temple crept a figure; it was that of Freydisa, whose face was white and scared.
"You are a great man, Olaf," she said; "but how will it end?"
"I do not know," I answered. "I have done what my heart told me, neither more nor less, and I bide the issue. Odin shall have his chance, for here I stay till dark, and then, if I live, I leave this land. Go, get me all the gold that is mine from the hall, and bring it here to me by moonrise, and with it some garments and my armour. Bring me also my best horse."
"You leave this land?" she said. "That means that you leave me, who love you, to go forth as the
