Everyone knew that fifteen thousand in a lump must be counterfeit money, unless one had worked for it oneself, and no one would ever do that—it would serve him right if I rode after him and killed him, like Egill Skallagrimsson, when Skalaglamm left his shield behind at Borg, and sagas were written about him, and the spaces between the writing were all lined with gold and set with precious stones.