Chapter XXII · OF EARL THORFINN’s DEATH.
Gilbert Goudie translation
Earl Thorfinn retained all his dominions to his dying day, and it is truly said that he was the most powerful of all the Earls of the Orkneys. He obtained possession of eleven Earldoms in Scotland, all the Sudreyar (Hebrides), and a large territory in Ireland. So says Arnór Jarlaskáld—
Unto Thorfinn, ravens’ feeder,
Armies had to yield obedience
From Thussasker[279] right on to Dublin.
Truth I tell, as is recorded.
Earl Thorfinn was five winters old when Malcolm[280] the King of Scots, his mother’s father, gave him the title of Earl, and after that he was Earl for seventy winters. He died towards the end of Harald Sigurdson’s reign.[281] He is buried at Christ’s Kirk in Birgishérad (Birsay), which he had built. He was much lamented in his hereditary dominions; but in those parts which he had conquered by force of arms many considered it very hard to be under his rule, and [after his death] many provinces which he had subdued turned away and sought help from the chiefs who were odal-born to the government of them.[282] Then it soon became apparent how great a loss Thorfinn’s death was to his dominions.
The following stanzas were made about the battle between Earl Rögnvald, Brùsi’s son, and Earl Thorfinn:—
Since the Earls have broken friendship
Peace I can enjoy no longer.
Feasts of corpses to the ravens
45Each has in his turn provided.
Off the Islands were the blue tents
By the mighty rent asunder,
Dabbled were the foul birds’ feathers
In red blood ’neath lofty branches.
Have ye heard how Kalfr followed
Finnr’s son-in-law in battle?
Quickly didst thou push thy vessels
’Gainst the Earl’s ships on the water.
To destroy the son of Brúsi,
Thou, courageous ship’s commander
Wast unwilling, but of hatred
Mindful, didst thou help Thorfinn.
When the Earls had joined in battle
Misery there was unbounded.
Thick and fast the men were falling
In the struggle; sad the hour when
Nearer went the daring Eastmen
To the unexampled fire-rain.
In that battle off the Red Biorg
Many a noble man was wounded.
Swarthy shall become the bright sun,
In the black sea shall the earth sink,
Finished shall be Austri’s labour,
And the wild sea hide the mountains,
Ere there be in those fair Islands
Born a chief to rule the people—
May our God both help and keep them—
Greater than the lost Earl Thorfinn.