{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_62123/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_62123","id":"gutenberg_62123","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62123","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Iceland -- Fiction","Vikings -- Fiction"],"text":"THE SWORN\n BROTHERS\n\n\n\n\nTHE BORZOI-GYLDENDAL BOOKS\n\n\nThe firm of Gyldendal [Gyldendalske Boghandel Nordisk Forlag] is the\noldest and greatest publishing house in Scandinavia, and has been\nresponsible, since its inception in 1770, for giving to the world some\nof the greatest Danish and Norwegian writers of three centuries. Among\nthem are such names as Ibsen, Bj\u00f8rnstjerne Bj\u00f8rnson, Pontoppidan,\nBrandes, Gjellerup, Hans Christian Andersen, and Knut Hamsun, the Nobel\nPrize Winner for 1920, whose works I am publishing in America.\n\nIt is therefore with particular satisfaction that I announce the\ncompletion of arrangements whereby I shall bring out in this country\ncertain of the publications of this famous house. The books listed\nbelow are the first of the _Borzoi-Gyldendal_ books.\n\n\nJenny\n\n  A novel translated from the Norwegian of Sigrid Undset by W. Emm\u00e9.\n\n\nGrim: the Story of a Pike\n\n  Translated from the Danish of Svend Fleuron by Jessie Muir and W.\n  Emm\u00e9.\n\n  Illustrated in black and white by Dorothy P. Lathrop.\n\n\nThe Sworn Brothers\n\n\nALFRED A. KNOPF, _Publisher_, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n THE\n SWORN BROTHERS\n\n A TALE OF THE EARLY DAYS OF ICELAND\n\n TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF\n GUNNAR GUNNARSSON\n\n By C. FIELD AND W. EMM\u00c9\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n NEW YORK\n ALFRED \u00b7 A \u00b7 KNOPF\n 1921\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY\n GUNNAR GUNNARSSON\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY\n ALFRED A. KNOPF, Inc.\n\n\n PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                   PAGE\n\n BOOK I              1\n\n BOOK II           109\n\n BOOK III          221\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn the red light of the fire in the midst of the hall, the age-browned\npillars of the high-seat stood forth strongly lit in the middle of\nthe main wall, against the background of smoky darkness which spread\nbehind. The bright glow threw into relief the carved images of the\ngods, weird and grotesque shapes which kept changing as the fire blazed\nup or sank in its embers.\n\nUpon the broad seat between the pillars of the high-seat, with the\ndragon-ornaments and gaping beast-heads of its back towering above and\nbehind, sat Orn, a broad, grey-haired warrior, leaning forward over the\ntable, his strong, coarse fingers buried in his thick, white beard.\nUpon the table at his side stood a great carved drinking horn. Orn sat\nin silence. It was seldom that he drank much in the evening.\n\nOne step below, and opposite him, on the other side of the fire,\nwas the table round which his men-servants sat. Only now and then a\nlow-voiced exchange of words between man and man broke the silence\nof the hall. Otherwise there reigned an oppressive stillness. Often\nthey glanced towards him, but each time looked uneasily at one another\nafterwards. For he sat very still, with a fixed, absent look in his\neyes. A shiver passed through them as they thought that perhaps he saw\nsomething which they could not see. It was not comfortable in the hall\nthat evening. All the more swift was the circulation of the beer-mugs.\nBut they were not set down on the tables with a bang, as was the rule\nwhen they were empty, but cautiously placed on one side.\n\nOn a dais at the end of the hall, farthest removed from the entrance\ndoor, sat women at work, spinning and carding wool in silence. For once\nsilence prevailed on the women's dais. Only a faint rustle was heard\nnow and then when one of them rose to help another or to fetch more\nwool.\n\nThe only one who did not feel depressed by the silence in the hall\nwas a fourteen-year-old boy, seated at the table right opposite the\nhigh-seat on the other side of the fire. He was content to make holiday\nby sitting quietly with his thoughts, and felt easy and unoccupied in\nmind. He sat quite still, letting his gaze linger alternately on his\nfather and the pillars of the seat. He had little resemblance to the\nstalwart figures round him. His skin was as clear as a young girl's,\nand his long, bright yellow hair fell in heavy locks over his neck.\nOn his face, with its regular features, there lay an expression of\npeculiar calm. The mouth under his straight nose appeared firm and\ncomposed. The look of his blue eyes was tranquil and fixed.\n\nIt was Ingolf, Orn's son. He often sat thus, especially of an\nevening. His attention was particularly taken up by the pillars of\nthe high-seat. They seemed so strangely alive in the red light of the\nevening fire.\n\nBy day they were quite dead. It seemed as if the breath of the gods had\ncrept into the hard, dry wood. Perhaps the gods slept by day, or had\nthey possibly flown on adventures to other countries and lands? The\ngods had tiresome habits, for all that they were gods; one never knew\nexactly where to find them. Anyhow, the pillars stood by day as though\nthey were empty.\n\nBut in the evening they came to life again. Either the gods returned,\nor breath issued at any rate from the inner part of the wood and seemed\nto wander over the surface.\n\nAlready in the gloaming, when shadows were gathering in the deep\ncarving, they began to live.\n\nBut it was a strange, deceitful, and threatening life, as though the\ngods were ill-humoured on first awakening, as men are sometimes in the\nearly morning hours. Ingolf did not like to stay alone in the hall in\nthe evening before the fire was lit. He had a certain consciousness\nof the gods' discontent in the twilight, and felt by no means sure\nthat they might not cherish some evil purpose. And when the gods were\nwroth or morose it was best to keep at a respectful distance. But as\nsoon as the fire was kindled on the hearthstones, it became bright and\ncomfortable in the hall. The fire sputtered with a cheerful crackling\nwhich seemed as though it were chatting pleasantly with the gods; it\nblazed up and cast its bright light over them, and diffused a kindly\npenetrating warmth. Then the gods recovered their good-humour; they\nsmiled openly, and their eyes grew somewhat more friendly.\n\nThen one ventured to look at them calmly and to sit near them. Ingolf\nliked to sit quietly and look at the images carved on the pillars.\nCertainly those in the temple were far more splendid, decked as they\nwere with costly clothes and heavy rings of gold and other valuable\nmetals. But the gods in the temple were those to whom they prayed at\nsolemn festivals and offered sacrifices. It required enormous daring to\napproach them, for one hardly ever saw them, and knew them but little.\nAlthough they were the same gods, they seemed strangely distant in the\nsanctity of the temple. The gods on the pillars of the high-seat, on\nthe other hand, were house-gods. He had grown up in their company, he\nhad seen them in daily intercourse, as far back as he could remember.\nHe had long been confidential with them; they were his and the family's\nfriends. They were quiet and peaceful and made no demands. Maybe they\nhad fits of ill-temper in the evenings. But for the most part they were\nalmost like men, saving, of course, that as gods they were naturally\nhigher than men.\n\nBut one ventured--it was indeed a duty--to count them as friends, as\nbelonging in some degree to the family. One could safely rely upon\nthem, and that led to everyday familiar intercourse with them.\n\nThey constituted, besides, so to speak, the axis of the home. They were\nthe immovable real centre round which all things revolved. They were\nthe persisting element. They were the visible sign of the family and of\nthe family's continuance.\n\nThey had become dark brown in the course of time, nay, almost black,\nand hard as stones from age. Ingolf knew well how they felt. He had\nonce, after a long inward struggle, ventured to touch them.\n\nAnd it was not strange that old age could be both felt and seen in\nthem. For no one knew how old they were, or whether indeed they had any\nage at all. Whether they were of the race of gods or men was therefore\ndoubtful. From time immemorial they had belonged to the family. They\nhad passed by inheritance from father to eldest son since as far back\nas there was any tradition, probably from the earliest dawn of time.\nThe pillar on the right of the throne represented Odin, the All-Father,\nthe old, one-eyed, and wise. His ravens, Hugin and Mugin, sat on his\nshoulders and whispered wisdom and knowledge to him. The ravens told\nhim everything, past and future. So wise was Odin that nothing found\nhim unprepared.\n\nOdin was the Head of the Gods, consequently the most important to have\nas a friend. The place on the right side of the high-seat belonged\njustly to him. The pillar on the left side represented Thor, the\nWielder of the Hammer, the slayer of giants, the one whose goats amid\nthunder-claps kicked fire from heaven when he drove to battle with the\ngiants. Proudly stood Age-Thor, with his legs planted wide apart, his\narm lifted up to smite, and in the bent fingers of his mighty hand he\ngripped the hammer, Mjolner.\n\nAnd there in the chief seat, on whose brown, worn plank only the\ncushions and the sitters changed, sat his father. Ay, there he sat,\ncheerful and comfortable between his gods.\n\nEvery evening he sat there, when he was not out journeying or visiting,\nwith his men sitting at tables round him, a step lower down. He sat\ncalmly, stroking with weather-tanned fingers his thick, white beard,\ntalked wisely, or was silent. There he sat at the feast with the chief\nguest by his side. And when it chanced that he raised his voice, his\nringing tones filled the hall, and an attentive silence prevailed as\nfar as the outer-most seats. Though his father, Orn, did not often talk\nin a loud voice, yet when he did, what he said was weighty. He seemed\nthen to Ingolf to have a certain resemblance to Thor, especially when\nhe raised his powerful clenched fists over his shaggy head. Otherwise,\nwhen he sat silent and meditated, he reminded him most of Odin, except\nthat he had two eyes.\n\nIn the chief seat his father was at home. There he sat, friendly\nand comfortable in the place of his ancestors. There had sat his\ngrandfather, Bjornulf, who together with his brother, Roald, had been\nobliged to quit the old family estate in Telemarken on account of\nhaving slain a man. And there had sat also before him, _his_ father,\nRomund Greippson. All high-spirited, strong men, whose names were\nremembered with reverence.\n\nAnd some day he himself would sit there. And after him again his son,\nand his son's son. Generation after generation, family after family,\ntill the earth vanished.\n\nWhenever he thought of the time when his father would be no more, and\nhe himself should assume the place between the throne-pillars, his\ncheeks flamed, and a strange, anxious shudder robbed him of strength\nand will-power.\n\nIt was this knowledge that he would have to assume a responsibility,\nand one which he had long ago sworn to sustain with honour, and which\nhe waited to assume with a mixture of joy and suspense, that had\nimpressed on his countenance a composure and on his whole nature and\nbearing an air of assurance far beyond his years. Even before his bones\nhad fairly hardened, he had had impressed on him by his mother, whom he\nnow only indistinctly remembered, who he was and what he should become.\nWith his mother's milk he had imbibed the unbroken traditions of the\nfamily. Before he understood what was really involved, he had learnt to\nunderstand that his life was only partly his own. Already, for a long\ntime past, it had become clear to him, that not only his own, but the\nhonour of the dead and the unborn was committed to his hand. For a man\nwithout honour cast shadows on two sides. Both his ancestors and his\ndescendants had a peremptory claim on him--the claim of honour.\n\nAnd he had no intention of disappointing either himself, the dead, or\nthe unborn. Just then it was very quiet in the hall. The confidential\ncrackling of the fire was the only sound audible.\n\nThen suddenly came the sound of tramping steps without. Orn raised his\nhead and was again wide awake. All sat still and listened. There was a\nknock at the door. Orn made a sign to the porter, who pushed back the\nbolt, and in came Rodmar, Orn's kinsman, followed by his son, Leif, and\nsome servants.\n\nThe peace and quiet of the hall was suddenly interrupted. Orn rose with\na dignified air. Stately of mien, he left the high-seat and went to\nmeet his relative. His ceremonious \"Welcome, cousin,\" sounded cheerful\nand hearty. Ingolf sprang up and ran round behind the seats to meet\nLeif. He greeted his relative, who was his junior by two years, with a\nkiss and very sincere friendliness.\n\nOrn laid both his hands heavily on Rodmar's shoulders. \"I was sure you\nwould come, cousin.\"\n\n\"Such important news should be looked into,\" answered Rodmar seriously.\n\"We have had prosperous though chequered years. What will happen now?\"\n\n\"The good times are passed,\" answered Orn gloomily. \"I guess what will\nhappen. Follow me to the high-seat, cousin.\"\n\nOrn seated Rodmar at his side, and called for fresh beer. They drank to\neach other with deep draughts. When Rodmar had sucked his beard dry, he\nturned to his kinsman, who was a little older than himself, and asked:\n\"Do you think there will be trouble in the country?\"\n\n\"Trouble there will be,\" answered Orn, speaking slowly and solemnly.\n\"After peace and prosperous years follow hard times. We have had the\ngood times; now we shall have to face the bad. Only it may be that the\nstruggle will not reach these parts. We are getting old, Rodmar. Our\nswords are rusty, our arms stiff. And our sons are at the worst age\npossible--old enough to entangle themselves in difficulties, not old\nenough to manage them.\"\n\n\"I see that you cherish fears for the future, cousin. What do you\nadvise?\"\n\n\"I advise that you stay here with Leif and as many of your servants as\ncan be safely spared from home. We should be prepared for everything.\nIn times like these most unexpected things can happen.\"\n\n\"I will follow your advice, as I always did. Do you think of seeking\nlight on the future from the gods?\"\n\n\"One should not trouble the gods before necessity demands it. But we\nshould offer them sacrifices diligently and without stint.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was only a week since Rodmar and Leif had driven home from the\nwinter festival at Orn's. But for Ingolf and Leif it had been a long\nweek. They had found it difficult to be apart. They had had a cushion\ndrawn up to the fire and lay there on their stomachs right opposite\neach other, each with a host of things to ask about and report.\n\nLeif was a tall, loose-knit fellow with a long, bony face, browned with\nfreckles and discoloured by wind and weather. He had a large nose, and\na broad mouth with thick lips. The expression of his sparkling grey\neyes changed suddenly, and constantly shifted from close attention to\ndistant dreaminess, from icy coldness to beaming warmth. Red curly hair\nhung in long locks down both sides of his smiling face.\n\nWhen the most important news had been told, he could keep quiet no\nlonger. With a teasing look in his eyes, he stretched his head forward\nand asked in a whisper: \"Say, Ingolf--did your gods dine on the Yule\nmeat?\"\n\nIngolf gave a start of annoyance. His smile disappeared, and over his\nface spread an expression of vexed seriousness. He looked anxiously\nround, but discovered to his relief that no one was listening.\n\nHe made no answer, but looked angrily and warningly at Leif. Leif\nlaughed softly and in a contented fashion. Then he made a funnel of his\nhands and whispered again: \"They are fat, overfed animals, your gods!\"\nHe laughed deep down in his stomach, enjoying Ingolf's wrath.\n\n\"And such gods! A decrepit, one-eyed old creature, who has to get his\nwisdom from ravens! And a stupid braggart who is so poor that he has to\ndrive with goats because he has no horse.\"\n\nIngolf clenched his fists and pressed his chin down hard on his\nwhitening knuckles.\n\n\"Hold your tongue, Leif!\" he said threateningly, in reply.\n\nLeif laughed as before. Then he sprang up suddenly. By their side stood\nHelga, Ingolf's sister, a slim young girl with long, light-yellow\nhair, shining blue eyes, a small bright face, and a happy smile on\nher childish mouth. Leif, whose gladness at meeting again this girl\nfriend of his own age beamed from his face and was visibly impressed\non his whole bearing, embraced her, and saluted her with a kiss. Then\nhe suddenly let her go, grew red and embarrassed, and began in his\nconfusion to kick the burning logs.\n\nHelga watched his action with quiet, smiling eyes. \"You are scorching\nyour boots, Leif,\" she said, and laughed softly.\n\nHe stood straight up, turned towards her, and looked at her. And the\nsmile in her eyes put his embarrassment to flight. Immediately he was\nhimself again. Beaming over his whole face, he seized her two hands and\nswung her arms apart.\n\n\"I should give you greetings from the cat and from old Jorun. I have\nnearly forgotten to do so. The cat caught a huge quantity of mice at\nYuletide, and then became fat and lazy--just like old Jorun, but she\ncan't bear to be told so.\"\n\n\"Surely you haven't said so to her.\"\n\n\"Yes. I couldn't help seeing it. And when I saw it, I couldn't help\nsaying it.\"\n\n\"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Leif. Have you forgotten how kind\nold Jorun has been to you since you lost your mother, and how many\nstories she has told us?\"\n\n\"I can make up better stories myself. Old wives' tales are wearisomely\nlong,\" answered Leif in a quick tone, which concealed the slight wound\nin his conscience.\n\n\"Do you believe she makes them up?\" asked Helga, with an air of\ncuriosity.\n\n\"She talks about gods, trolls, and giants as though they really\nexisted. The other tales are lies too, I suppose.\"\n\n\"You are a stupid boy. How do you know that there are not trolls and\ngiants?\"\n\n\"Well, you never see them, anyhow.\"\n\nHelga was already thinking of something else. \"Are you not going back\nat once?\" she asked in an expectant tone.\n\n\"I hope to stay here the rest of the winter and all summer too!\"\n\nSuddenly both were silent, and found no more to say. For a while they\nstood and looked at each other and were very happy. All at once Helga\nbecame aware that Ingolf lay there, and had not once lifted up his\nhead. She cast herself on her knees beside him and peered into his\nface. Ingolf avoided her glance, but she could see he was depressed.\nSuddenly she knelt up and looked penetratingly at Leif. The smiles\nand brightness had vanished from her face. \"Now, you have been vexing\nIngolf again, Leif,\" she said in a tone of deep reproach. Leif avoided\nher look, and took his place, a little embarrassed, at the end of the\ncushion. He felt ashamed, but wished to laugh it off. When he did not\nsucceed he bent his head, and whispered so low that only they two could\nhear: \"He ought not to get angry because I say what I think. You know\nquite well that I do not believe in your gods.\"\n\n\"But you ought not to laugh at them, when you know that you hurt Ingolf\nby doing so,\" whispered Helga angrily in reply.\n\nIngolf lifted his head and looked at them. He spoke calmly, and his\nvoice was quiet and sad.\n\n\"It is not that alone,\" he whispered. \"I do not mind so much that Leif\nmocks at the gods. But I grieve to think that the gods will some day\ntake vengeance on you, Leif, for your mockery.\"\n\n\"When I do not believe in the gods, you cannot expect me to be afraid\nof their vengeance,\" answered Leif, with quiet defiance.\n\nHe sat with downcast eyes, and a discontented and vexed look in his\nface.\n\n\"You can say what _you_ like in return,\" he continued. \"Why may I not\nsay what _I_ like? I cannot bear the gods. And I cannot endure that you\nshould believe in them either. But since you make so much of them, I\nwill say nothing.\"\n\n\"Yes, you promise that now,\" said Helga. \"You will have forgotten it\ntomorrow.\"\n\n\"Can I help being forgetful? Then I will promise again tomorrow.\"\n\nFor some minutes they sat silent and out of humour. Then Helga took\nLeif's hand. \"Don't be cross, Leif. We have wished so much to see you\nagain.\"\n\nLeif raised his head suddenly. He raised himself on the cushion, made a\nplace by his side, and looked up at Helga with a smile. All ill-humour\nhad passed away from his face.\n\nSoon after, all three were lying together confidentially discussing\ntheir own affairs. The hall was full of the hum of many voices and a\nstronger odour of beer. The fire burned yellow and bright. And the\nimages of the gods on the carved pillars looked down as if following\nall that passed with a slow content, and waiting, calmly wise, for what\nshould come.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nA couple of months after, the two boys were riding over the heath.\nIt was towards evening. The day was calm with biting frost; grey\nstorm-clouds lined the whole horizon. The blue patch of sky above the\nheath grew ever smaller; it seemed as though a storm was brewing.\nBanks of clouds were already threatening to swallow the pale moon. The\nsun seemed stranded on golden mountains of cloud in the west. The two\ncousins were returning from a visit to their friends and comrades,\nHaasten, Haersten, and Holmsten, sons of Atle Jarl at Gaulum. Holmsten,\nthe youngest of the brothers, was the same age as Ingolf; the others\nwere a little older.\n\nThe two cousins had come to know Atle's sons at the great sacrificial\nfeast of the preceding year at Gaulum, and had become friends with\nthem. On Leif's side the friendship was not very warm.\n\nDuring the last year they had visited each other regularly. And since\nthere was still no sign of disturbance in that part of the country,\nthey had obtained leave to journey to Gaulum again this winter. But\nthey had been obliged to promise to exercise caution, to follow the\nmain roads, to return home quickly on the least sign of trouble, and,\nfinally, to conduct themselves circumspectly, and to remember whose\noffspring they were if anything happened. They had naturally promised\nall that had been demanded, Ingolf with the firm resolve to keep his\nword.\n\nThey had not had any occasion to break their promises until today, when\nLeif had induced Ingolf to make a short cut across the heath. He had\ntwitted him with want of courage till Ingolf, in a mixture of anger\nand love of adventure, consented. Leif, who was always the most eager\nfor an expedition, was, on the other hand, most quickly and completely\nseized by homesickness. In the morning he had felt that he must see\nHelga before evening.\n\nAnd now they were riding here at a furious gallop. The long, wide, red\ncloaks, fastened by silver buckles on their breasts, fluttered behind\nthem. So did as much of Leif's red and Ingolf's bright yellow locks as\nwere not confined by their helmet-shaped caps.\n\nLeif rode at haphazard and carelessly, satisfied with things in\ngeneral, without thought for anything but the exciting present. He rode\nwith arms, legs, and his whole body.\n\nIngolf, who sat as though of a piece with his horse, and moving neither\narm nor foot, glanced at him sideways, and a faint smile passed over\nhis firm mouth.\n\n\"You ride like a fluttering chicken, Leif!\" he shouted to him as they\nrode on. Leif looked quickly at him and was not at a loss for an\nanswer. \"And you sit your horse like an old idol, cousin!\"\n\nThe horses' frost-powdered heads stretched forward as they ran. Yellow\nflakes of foam flew now and then from their mouths; their warm breath\nrose like clouds of vapour from the quivering nostrils. The snow and\nthe splinters of ice which they kicked up flew about the ears of the\nriders. Leif enjoyed travelling without restraint, and his delight\nfound vent now and then in a ringing shout. Ingolf, on the other hand,\nrode in a mood of deep displeasure; but it seemed as if he could not\ngive vent to it at once, for he, also, had become partly intoxicated\nwith the wild ride. The rapid beat of the rough-shod hoofs against the\nhard, frozen snow sounded pleasantly in their ears. And the strength of\nthe mighty muscles which were supporting them thrilled the young riders\nwith a glorious sensation of invincibility, capacity for anything, and\ndivine exultation which made their hearts light and filled their heads\nwith blissful excitement.\n\nThe sun, preparing to glide down the golden slopes of cloud, cast long\nand fantastic shadows of the horses and riders over the glittering\nplain of snow. Leif suddenly became aware of the rushing shadows, and\nburst into laughter. He shouted to Ingolf, and pointed to the shadows,\nsuddenly anxious to make Ingolf also amused at them. Ingolf must\nlaugh also. But Leif's mirth was too violent, too overpowering. He\nlaughed out all the laughter that there was at once, and left nothing\nfor Ingolf. Leif's uncontrolled glee blocked up all the feeling of\namusement in Ingolf, and directly evoked his dawning displeasure. He\nno longer gave himself up to the mere pleasure of riding. His fits of\nforgetfulness never lasted very long; thought and reason resumed their\npower over him.\n\nThere rode Leif, and was happy! Did he not see that a storm was\nbrewing? Did he not know that it was impossible for them to get home\nthat night? Did he not reflect that if a regular snowstorm came on\nthey might easily go astray on the heath? No, he saw nothing, knew\nnothing, thought nothing! He simply rode and was happy. And yet it was\nall his own fault.\n\nAs they rode on side by side, a sullen, smouldering anger penetrated\ndeeper and deeper into Ingolf's mind. He had great mental stability,\nwhich is always something to hold fast to. He tried to struggle against\nhis feelings; he would _not_ ride here and become gradually furious\nwith Leif. But the process in his mind had already gone so far that\nhe was powerless to control it. What happened afterwards was in spite\nof his will and better conscience. Leif's ecstasy also blew up the\nsmouldering embers of wrath in his mind like a pair of bellows. Leif's\njoyful shout caused flames to flare up within him. Why should Leif just\nnow become so senseless, so idiotically happy? Why? Why? There were\ninnumerable \"whys?\" to answer when Leif was in question. Why should\nLeif be always occasioning difficulties and vexations for him? Why\nshould he be allowed to transfer all responsibility from himself to\nhim? What was the sense of his alone having to bear inconveniences for\nthem both just because Leif did not choose to be inconvenienced? His\nonly fault, after all, had been that he had always been, and still was,\ntoo yielding towards Leif.\n\nLeif, who rode there so merrily, without thinking of his broken promise\nor the gathering storm--did he not remember the gash from Holmsten's\nknife which he carried in his coat as he rode? Did he not remember\nthat it was solely due to Ingolf's presence of mind and powerful grip\nthat the knife had not been buried in him up to the handle?\n\nIngolf was angry now. His perception was distorted by evil powers. He\nonly saw Leif's weaknesses and failings, and they were many. Ingolf\nheld a reckoning, and was angry.\n\nSuch was Leif! A child, a stupid boy! A forgetful and ungrateful beast!\nNot once in friendly games with Atle's sons had he behaved properly.\nAlthough Holmsten was two years older than he, he could not endure\nto give place to him in any matter. Times without number they had\nattacked each other like fiery wolf cubs. Times without number he and\nHaasten had reconciled them. Each time Leif had promised it should be\nthe last time; next time he would be careful not to let his temper run\naway with him. But Leif's promises were like flying snow in a storm.\nSuch was Leif, the great humbug, unreliable and unintelligible. Why\nshould he, because Holmsten at parting had given him the knife he had\nnearly killed him with--why should he for that reason unclasp his most\nvaluable money-belt, and with his own hands clasp it round Holmsten?\nWeaker characters could do that! Next time they met they would, all\nthe same, attack each other like fiery wolf-cubs. That would certainly\nend some day with serious enmity between the two; and that would mean\na feud with Atle's sons. It might well happen that Leif would yet\nentangle him in murder and bloodshed. Some day they would certainly\nhave to quit Dalsfjord, as their grand-fathers in their time had been\nobliged to quit Telemarken.\n\nThus Ingolf's thoughts were forced to run on possible division of the\nfamily, murder, and exile.\n\nWhy could not Leif be content with the difficulties he had stirred up\nfor him at Gaulum? Why further entice him into breaking the promise he\nhad given his father to follow the main roads and to be cautious?\n\nAt first Ingolf had only been angry with himself for having let Leif\nseduce him into disobedience and breaking his word. But in his present\ncondition he had no power to apportion his anger. He had to heap it all\ntogether with the blame on Leif.\n\nThe riders had slackened their pace, and rode quietly side by side,\nclose together. But they avoided looking at each other, and did not\nsay a word. Leif perceived that Ingolf, for some reason or other, had\nbecome very angry.\n\nThat did not surprise him. Ingolf, who was accustomed to preserve his\ncalm on occasions when others became angry, was also wont to become\nangry at the strangest times. Leif searched his conscience. It was\nfairly uneasy, as usual, but nothing more. It was impossible to see how\nhe had deserved Ingolf's wrath at that moment more than at others. He\nhad not mocked at the gods, and he had till just now been so cheerful.\nHe felt a little irritated, and was also curious to see what had\nhappened in Ingolf's mind, but he had resolved that it was not worth\nwhile to irritate him by speaking. He would see if he could not, by\nkeeping silence, charm the anger out of him. Ingolf could not well\nremain angry indefinitely. Still, it was a nuisance; all the pleasure\nof the ride was gone.\n\nThey rode on at a rapid trot, and Leif remained silent. But he was not\naccustomed to ride in that way. A great feeling of heaviness came over\nhim, and quenched in its darkness all the lively sparks of his humour.\nBut they would soon be home. He yawned till his jaws seemed to crack.\nWould there be a storm? He felt reckless. But what an endless way back\nit seemed when they approached the forest which they must go round.\nWhat sense was there in the forest lying there and barring their way to\nthe valley? But for that, they might easily be home by bedtime. If the\nhorses only had such long legs as their shadows on the snow possessed,\nthey could stride over the forest. What wretched short-legged jades\nthey were!\n\nYes, everything had gone wrong that evening. Nothing was as it should\nbe. There rode Ingolf with a bee in his bonnet. One dared not even\nspeak to him. And why had they no food with them? He felt suddenly so\nravenously hungry that he actually seemed to sniff the scent of roast\nmeat. Meat and bread and beer--hm hm! And now that he had once begun to\nthink of food, he continued to do so. He could at last almost taste it\nupon his tongue. Could they not ride through the wood?\n\nHe suddenly forgot all caution and addressed Ingolf in the simplicity\nof his heart. \"I know a path through the forest.\"\n\nIt sounded quite naturally, as though he had suddenly thought of it.\nBut for those who knew Leif, his voice was too sincere to be able to\nconceal a lie. Ingolf saw through him at once. So Leif was not yet\ncontent with the harm done! He looked angrily and scornfully at him.\n\"Do you?\" he answered, with an excessively quiet and indifferent air.\n\"Then you'd better make a short cut through.\"\n\nLeif looked uncertainly at him. He knew no path through the wood; on\nthe contrary, he had lost his way in it one summer's day, and only with\ngreat difficulty got out of it again. It had just occurred to him that\nif he induced Ingolf to try the wood, they would be able to manage it.\n\nIt was only a matter of keeping the right direction, and that can\nalways be done when there are two going together. The wood could\ncertainly not be impassible. And to try it would at least be a change.\nTo stay here would be tedious in the long run.\n\n\"Shall we see if we can find it?\" he braced himself up to ask in a\nconciliatory and almost submissive tone. He dared not express his\nrequest more plainly; he was afraid that Ingolf had already seen too\nmuch.\n\n\"I'll share in no more foolishness today,\" said Ingolf coldly and\ndecidedly.\n\nLeif started as though struck by the lash of a whip. Ingolf's tone\nkindled a flame in him like fire in dry straw. The consciousness of\nhaving lied, and the fear of its being perceived, made him sensitive\nand irritable beyond measure. He was seized with rage, and felt a\nshiver run through his whole body. Senseless evil words and terrible\nexecrations rose in his mind, but in such rapid succession that his\ntongue could not utter them. With a jerk he turned his horse and rode\ntoward the wood. He wanted to get away from Ingolf: he would show him--\n\nIngolf looked after him. And as he sat there and saw him ride away, his\narms and legs waving all ways at once, a revulsion took place in his\nmind. His wrath had come to a head, and now began to subside. \"There\nwas no sense in that,\" he thought, and could not recover himself after\nLeif's disappearance. \"I did not think to drive him so far. But surely\nhe will have the sense to turn back!\"\n\nNo, Leif did not turn back. And Ingolf, who had let slip the\nopportunity of calling him to return, could not yet bring himself to\nride after him.\n\n\"Now we shall be separated for life,\" he thought again. \"That is too\nridiculous. That must not happen.\" He would _not_ be separated from\nLeif like that. But the consciousness of his own right and Leif's\nobvious wrong had still too strong a hold on him. It seemed to him\nimpossible to turn his horse round. Yet once more he repeated to\nhimself: \"It must not happen.\" But all the same he rode on. He let it\nhappen.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIngolf rode on. The sun went down. A wind blew from the north, bringing\nthick clouds of ice-cold snow as fine as sand. He could not see the\nwood any more. And Leif had long disappeared in the sea of snow.\n\nNight began to come on. A faint glow high above him on the left\nbetrayed the whereabouts of the full moon. With the help of that and\nthe wind he tried to guide himself. He was so alone, so completely\nforsaken, as he had hitherto never guessed that anyone could be. And he\nfelt his loneliness and desolation as accusation and guilt. He had, as\nit were, grown smaller since Leif had left him.\n\nThe uneasiness of dissatisfaction gnawed his mind like hunger. He was\ndispleased with himself and also with Leif, but more with himself. He\nwas, after all, the elder, and was responsible for them both. Also he\nfelt seriously anxious for Leif. Leif did not know any path through the\nwood. He had once ventured into it, and lost himself. And if he lost\nhimself in the wood in this cold he would be frozen to death, unless,\nindeed, the wolves attacked him.\n\nIngolf was in despair. He asked himself whether it were yet any use\nto ride after Leif? But now it was too late. He felt a lump rise in\nhis throat. Remorse came over him like an avalanche. He had to defend\nhimself in order not to be utterly overwhelmed. As far as Leif was\nconcerned, it was his own fault. It was he who actually _would_ ride\nover the heath. It was he who, in spite of reason, made for the wood.\nIf he were frozen to death, or eaten by wolves, he only had himself to\nthank. But Ingolf soon discovered that these thoughts did not yield him\nany comfort. In the first place, he was not sure that the fault was\nreally Leif's. He ought not to have allowed himself to be persuaded to\nride across the heath, and, by doing so, break his word. Neither ought\nhe to have become angry with Leif because he had allowed himself to be\npersuaded. Least of all should he have let Leif observe his anger.\nFor that was what had driven him to the wood. He knew Leif, and how\nsusceptible he was. Treated in the right way, he was not unreasonable.\nBy means of good-humour and friendly talk one could turn Leif's mind\nfrom or in any desired direction. But if he saw that any one was\nangry or embittered against him, immediately he became twice as angry\nhimself. And all sound sense forsook him as soon as he became irritated.\n\nAnd another thing: even if the fault was Leif's, that did not make the\nmatter really better. There was, in fact, no satisfaction in being in\nthe right as against Leif. Leif's whole character was so made up of\nhastiness and want of sense that nothing was easier than to be in the\nright against him. But that was not the least relief to his mind. Leif\nwas not one of those to be settled with in that way. Even if there was\nnot the least doubt that one was in the right, there always remained\nsomething unsettled when Leif was in question. Ingolf rode on. He\nforgot to pay any attention to the direction of the wind or the light\nof the moon. An absorbing consciousness of having done wrong, and of\nremorse, which continually increased, gnawed his mind and destroyed\nhis peace. He could not shake off the thought of Leif. How was he now?\nHow would he fare? He tried to persuade himself that Leif must really\nknow a path through the wood, and might be home before him. Ah, how he\nwished that he might find Leif's horse in the stable when he himself at\nlast reached home!\n\nBut he knew well that this was only something he _wished_ to believe.\nLeif's voice was so sincere that it betrayed him when he lied. Leif was\na stupid boy. Ah, Leif! Leif!\n\nIngolf struggled hard to keep his tears back. He had not the least idea\nwhat to do. What should he do? He was riding here, and had lost his\nbest friend. And it was his own fault. Even if he found Leif at home\nthey would not be friends any more. And Leif, like himself, as far back\nas he could remember, could not do without him. He did not understand\nit all. He did not comprehend how it could happen. Yesterday, nay,\nonly a little while since, they had been friends. Now he was riding\nalone in the night and the snowstorm, and Leif was lost in the wood.\nLeif had left him because he could not overcome himself sufficiently\nto keep with him longer--Leif, who this morning would have sacrificed\neverything for him, and given his life for him, yes, ten lives if he\nhad possessed so many. He did not know any one else of whom he could\nsafely say the same. Half his strength had lain in the consciousness\nthat Leif was his friend for life and death; that he had, so to speak,\ntwo lives. He was himself also prepared to die for his friend. All the\nsame, a sudden misunderstanding and a few words had parted them. For\nthe first time Ingolf realized the dangerous power of anger and evil\nwords. And he made a vow never again to be angry, and never again to\nspeak evil words to a friend. It had a certain soothing effect upon\nhim, thus to take himself to task, to acknowledge his failing, and\nresolve to overcome it.\n\nBut this was of no help with regard to Leif. There could not be the\nleast doubt now that Leif was roaming about lost in the wood. It was\nhopeless to expect that he should have given up his purpose. It could\nnever occur to him to be so reasonable as to follow the edge of the\nwood. For Leif knew nothing of fear or even caution, bold to the point\nof madness, daring to folly as he was. Yes, Leif was by no means merely\na mocker of the gods or a practical joker. He was as fearless and brave\nas any one whom Ingolf knew. That was what forced one to love him, and\nfeel that he was indispensable in spite of all his failings and the\ndifficulties he caused. That was also the reason why Helga liked him\nso much, and became restless and lost her balance as soon as she did\nnot see him, but immediately became quiet and peaceful when she knew he\nwas near. How should Ingolf look his sister, Helga, in the eyes when he\ncame home without Leif?\n\nIngolf rode on. He no longer knew where he was going, and felt\nindifferent. Without Leif he could, at any rate, not go home. He could\nnot get Leif out of his mind.\n\nLeif was in every way difficult and unaccountable. There was no use\ndenying it. As far back as Ingolf could remember at all, he had had\nincredible difficulties with Leif. All the troubles he remembered to\nhave had, had been caused by him. Numberless times, Helga had been\nobliged to appease greater or smaller quarrels between them. For Leif\nwas really impossible as a comrade. One never knew what to expect of\nhim, or what he might devise. There was no feeling secure in Leif's\nsociety; he always brought, as it were, changes and adventures with\nhim. But such as he was, one could not do without him. In spite of his\ndifficult character he was such that one missed him as soon as he was\nout of sight.\n\nIngolf noticed that his horse suddenly changed the direction in which\nhe was going. He did not take the trouble to check him. It was all the\nsame to him where he went, now that he no longer had Leif.\n\nHe had wound his cape twice round him, yet the cold penetrated it.\nHe felt frozen and shivered, but did not mind. It even had a certain\nsoothing effect on him to be so cold that his teeth chattered.\nImmediately afterwards he had forgotten himself, and began thinking\nagain of Leif.\n\nHitherto he had always felt vexed that Leif was not like others. Now he\nrealized suddenly that, in spite of all, he did not want to have Leif\notherwise. Such as he was, he was just Leif, and his friend. On his\nside the friendship was certainly not past. If he met Leif again, they\nwould become friends afresh. He knew that Leif was always ready for\nreconciliation so soon as he had worked off his rage.\n\nNo, Leif was not like others. There was no doubt that he was a good and\nskilful ski-runner. He was always inventing new tricks and difficult\nfeats. Wherever he found a rock or a hill he must attempt it. Not even\nthe steepest descents made him pause. The fact that he had one fall\nafter another, each worse than the preceding one, had no effect upon\nhim at all. Leif did not like learning by experience. And, strangely\nenough, he had never had any serious accident. When Ingolf had once\nreproached him for his mad foolhardiness, he had merely replied that he\ntrusted his luck blindly for so long as Fate had allotted it to him,\nand not a step further! He was obviously not in the least interested as\nto where the limit was set. One might be vexed at it, but it was not\nof the slightest use. He had an incredible faculty for getting into\ndesperate situations, and after all saving his skin.\n\nThe cause probably was that he was not merely a little unreasonable. In\nthat case he would hardly have completed his twelve winters. He was, on\nthe contrary, so boundlessly unreasonable that it seemed as though the\nreasonable penalties which always pursued Ingolf and all others never\nexactly knew where to find Leif, and therefore could not strike him.\n\nIngolf could not explain it to himself in any other way. There was,\nfor example, the adventure with the bear. It was a year ago now, but\nhe was likely to remember it as long as he lived. They had heard\nfrom the people in the farm that there was a bear's lair up on the\nheath, a place about which they only knew that it would be found in\nthe neighbourhood of two hills which had been described to them. They\nwere continually thinking and talking about the bear's lair, and\ncould not get away from the subject. Both of them had a great desire\nto see the place. But Ingolf's desire was of the quiet kind which is\ncompatible with patience. In his opinion there was no need to go and\nscent out a bear's lair when one was grown big and could receive him\nwhen he presented himself. Leif's desire, on the other hand, was\nmeasureless and insatiable. \"If you don't come, I will go alone,\" he\nsaid. So Ingolf went with him. They set out from the place one morning\nin late summer; they trudged far, found no hill nor bear's lair, but,\non the other hand, came across a slope covered with bilberries, the\nlike of which they had never seen. Immediately Ingolf was aware of a\nhigh-pitched voice within, which shouted, \"Bilberries! Bilberries!\" And\nthat Leif must have heard a similar voice was easy to see. Crouching\nto the earth they went and gathered bilberries with both hands, eating\nthe little bitter leaves along with them without hesitation, when they\nfound opposite them a bear who was also eating bilberries. For a moment\nIngolf remained standing, staring at a bear with a blue snout; then he\ncame to his senses and fled for all he was worth. Not till he had run\na long way did it occur to him that Leif was not with him, and that he\nwas not pursued. He stood still and looked round, prepared to see the\nbear coming after him with Leif in his stomach and hungering for more\nprovender of a similar kind. What he did see was almost more terrible.\nThere on the bilberry-slope stood Leif and the bear confronting each\nother. Ingolf stood thunderstruck. Why did not the bear eat Leif?\nHe did not understand it, did not see that there could be anything\nelse to wait for. As though rooted to the spot, he remained standing\nand staring, and could not stir. It seemed to him as if several days\nhad passed when at last something happened--the bear sneaked off. He\ncould not trust his own eyes! Yes, the bear trudged away from the\nbilberry-slope and left Leif alone with the berries. And Leif quite\nquietly resumed his gathering of bilberries. Ingolf did not understand\nit. He found the occurrence so unintelligible that he believed the\nwhole must be a dream. He was soon made aware of his mistake. In dreams\none is accustomed to glide comfortably through the air, but he had\njust to climb back on his weary legs to Leif. When Ingolf got near\nhim, he stood and looked at him, and was astonished to see nothing\nremarkable about him. And so he remained standing for a time. There\nwas something which needed explaining before he could go on with the\nbilberry-picking. At last he asked: \"Why didn't you run?\"\n\n\"Do you think one can run from a bear?\" Leif answered quite quietly and\nas a matter of course. \"What would be the use of that? No, I made him\nthink that I was not afraid of him. And at last I really was not any\nmore. So he got tired of standing and staring, and went his way.\" Such\nwas Leif, and such was his method with bears. Was it easy to understand\nhim? How could one get the mind with which to understand him? Ingolf\nanswered himself with a meditative, negative shake of the head. And the\nadventure with the bear was by no means unique. He remembered another\nincident of the same summer. He lived through it again in his need to\noccupy himself with Leif, and yet at the same time forget that Leif at\nthat very moment might be hunted by wolves.\n\nThey had agreed together that it was time they learnt to swim.\nNaturally it was just when no one had time to teach them. But that kind\nof trifle had no decisive weight for Leif when he had got a fixed idea\nin his head. One of Orn's servants, so he informed Ingolf, who was a\ngood swimmer, had shown him that he had only to move his arms and legs\nin such and such a way and keep afloat. Leif straightway laid himself\nacross a piece of timber in the courtyard and showed Ingolf how to move\nhis arms and legs. Thus; and thus!--that was all! It did not seem very\ndifficult to Ingolf. But suppose one sank in spite of all? But Leif\nwas unwearied in his persuasions--oh, it was ever so easy. You simply\nscooped up the water with your arms and kicked with your legs--that was\nall. At last Leif made him lie on the piece of timber and taught him\nthe strokes. So! and so! Kick out strongly! Stretch your arms properly!\nNow, I bet we swim like a pair of seals as soon as we get in the water.\nNow let us go!\n\nThey went down to the Fjord. On the way he made Leif promise that\nfirst they should not go farther than where they could touch the\nbottom. Otherwise he said he would not go. Leif promised, and swore in\naddition. As soon as they got near the shore, Leif had his clothes off\nand stood naked and careless and stretched himself in the sun. Ingolf\nstood and looked at the water, and was a good while unclasping his\nbelt. Leif jumped about and hurried him on, but at last would not wait\nany more. As a matter of course, he had either forgotten his promise or\ndid not choose to keep it. Instead of wading out where he could reach\nthe bottom he ran out on a rock, flung his arms over his head, launched\naway, and was off.\n\nIngolf, still with most of his clothes on, ran out on the rock with his\nheart in his mouth. Down there lay Leif; the water had swallowed him.\nHe lay and worked his arms and legs. Now he approached the surface;\nnow his head bobbed up. But only for a moment. His arms and legs\nmoved very much as when he rode. But either he could not manage the\nswimming-strokes or they were no use. In any case, the water would not\nsupport him. He went to the bottom again.\n\nNever had Ingolf been so frightened as when he stood there and saw Leif\nin the water--never so helplessly anxious and despairing. He stood, and\ncould neither move hand nor foot. He felt paralysing terror like a dead\nweight in his whole body. Then he suddenly began to shiver. At the same\nmoment all power of cool reflection deserted him and he forgot that he\nwas no better a swimmer than Leif. He must get out and help him. And he\nwas on the point of plunging from the rock with his clothes on when he\nsaw Leif come crawling up through the water.\n\nLeif crawled up and got his head above the surface. He spat and snorted\nand made grimaces. It did Ingolf good to see him. And he did not go\nto the bottom again. Leif, the incredible, swam! Not with arms and\nlegs working on both sides as he had practised the motions. No, he\nsimply crawled through the water with a long stroke and did not sink.\nIt looked so ridiculous that Ingolf had to laugh aloud. No, Leif of\ncourse could not be so easily drowned as others die naturally. Now he\nfelt the ground under his feet. He stood still, coughed, and spat up\nwater and shook himself so that the red locks flew about his head. He\nlaughed suddenly when he set eyes on Ingolf. \"What, not yet out of your\nclothes?\" Quite calmly he waded to shore. And when he stood opposite\nIngolf, he said simply and unaffectedly, although he shivered over his\nwhole body: \"I was nearly drowned that time! Who could guess that it\nwas so difficult? If I hadn't just happened to think, while I was down\nthere, how dogs swim, I should be lying there still!\"\n\nWhen at last he had finished spitting and shaking the water out of his\nears, he took the same header again as a matter of course.\n\nSuch was Leif. He could not break his neck, he could not drown, and\nbears sneaked off when they met him. Could he, then, be lost in a wood\nand frozen to death? Or would he extricate himself again as he alone\ncould? Ingolf thought it not quite impossible, and that was his only\nhope and comfort.\n\nIt would be just like Leif to crash his way through a wood in which\nanyone else would be lost, and to be first home. If only he were\nalready there, in bed and asleep!\n\nIngolf was aroused from his reveries by his horse suddenly coming to a\ndead stop. He looked round him, and was not long in discovering that\nhe had reached home. The horse had stopped exactly opposite the door\nof the stable. Stiff in all his limbs from the cold, he crawled down\nand opened the door. His only thought was whether Leif's horse might\nalready be inside. He went from horse to horse, felt them, and noted\ntheir distinguishing marks. He knocked against his own horse, which\nhad followed after him into the warmth with its saddle and bridle on.\nHe freed it from the bridle, but forgot the saddle, and went on. No,\nLeif's horse was not in the stable.\n\nThat was only what he had expected. Nevertheless, he felt suddenly\nparalysed with disappointment. Leif, then, had not reached home. Leif\nwas still somewhere without. At that very moment he was roaming about\nlost either on the heath or in the wood. Leif's horse was not one of\nthose which could find its way home by itself.\n\nAh, Leif! Leif! He hoped that it was not already all over with him.\nIngolf seemed to see him in front of him lying on his back in a\nsnowdrift with arms and legs stretched out. The snow was drifting over\nhim and already nearly covering him. By the side of him stood his\nhorse, with its head hanging down. Ah, Leif! Leif!\n\nIngolf collected himself. He did not feel the cold any more, nor did he\nnotice how hunger was gnawing him. He shut the stable and went to the\ncourtyard. There was something feverish and yet resolute about all his\nproceedings. He entered the outhouse where the ski were kept, and found\nhis own and Leif's. He opened the house-door a little and whistled\nsoftly to his dog. The dog was wild with delight at seeing him again,\njumped about him, and licked his cold hands with his warm tongue, while\nIngolf, his fingers stiff with the frost, was buckling on his ski.\nHe had no time to take notice of it. As soon as he had buckled his\nsnow-shoes firmly on, he sped away from the house, the same way he had\ncome. Now he again paid attention to the direction of the wind and the\nlight of the moon.\n\nLeif must be found--there was no question about that. He could not\nreturn home alive without him.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nLeif had gone riding on till he reached the wood, his mind full of\nwrath and defiance. There was not one reasonable thought in his brain;\nhe had only the instinct to ride on. The motion cooled his irritation.\nIt did him good to be out in this wild, chaotic expanse. There was\na sense of freedom in casting away the yoke of reason, a relief in\nknowing that one was committed to something which had two sides and\nmight mean life or death.\n\nHe would show Ingolf that though he himself did not know any path\nthrough the wood he was not afraid of riding there all the same. He\nwould show him that if he wished to go the straight road home he would\ndo so in spite of woods and other hindrances! He would show him that\nthere was a difference between a man and an old woman in breeches!\n\nThe snowstorm beat against him from the side, and he had to turn his\nhead so as not to have it directly in his ear, yet all the same he had\nto ride with his eyes half shut. But he gave no heed to the weather.\nA man who was intent on performing an exploit could not worry about\na trifle! Thus, filled with exulting presumption, he approached the\nborder of the wood and rode in among the whistling, crackling trees.\nHere he had to slacken his pace, and, as he did, it struck him all at\nonce that there was a fair chance of his losing himself in the wood and\nnever getting out again. But nothing could stop Leif when he had got\nup the speed for a piece of folly. Besides, it was part of his reason\nfor not giving up his project that he was convinced that the worst turn\nhe could do Ingolf was to ride through the wood. If he won through it,\nIngolf would be mortified; if he got lost, Ingolf would be grieved.\nAnd Ingolf, sulky beast, deserved no mercy. How thoroughly he would\nlook down on him if he happened to get home first! And if not, he knew\nwell that Ingolf would not have a quiet hour till he saw him again. And\nserve him right.\n\nHere in the outskirts of the wood Leif made such good progress that he\nalready felt sure of getting home first. At the same time, he found\nroom in his heart and mind for a certain anxiety regarding Ingolf. He\nhoped he would not be lost upon the heath where he had nothing to guide\nhim.\n\nNow that his fantastic assurance for himself had left room for anxiety\nfor Ingolf, his wrath suddenly vanished. Should he not ride after\nIngolf, try to overtake him, and convince him how much better it was to\nride through the wood? But then Ingolf would only believe that he had\nturned round because he did not dare to ride through the wood alone,\nwhich was just what he was going to show him he could do.\n\nHis arms and legs came again into action. But the deeper Leif\npenetrated into the wood, the harder it became to make progress. The\ngoing was not so good here. The horse went on at an irregular pace.\nLeif had continually to turn because of low branches and fallen trunks.\nHe had to go slowly and gradually, step by step.\n\nBesides, it was not very comfortable here in the dense parts of the\nwood. Leif did not venture to startle his horse by shouting, though he\nwas not really afraid. But all the sounds which he could not account\nfor made him silent and alert. On all sides there was an uninterrupted\nwhistling, creaking, and groaning. Snow fell from the branches with\na thump. Hasty flappings of wings, which sent a chill through him,\npenetrated through all other sounds, producing a foreboding sense of\nvacuity and gloom. Besides, it was darker here than was pleasant. He\ncould hardly discern the nearest tree-trunks. He wished he were out on\nthe heath again and in Ingolf's company. What had he wanted to go to\nthe wood for?\n\nLeif was not long in losing himself so completely that he thought it\njust as well to give up altogether aiming at any particular direction,\nand go on at haphazard. He felt it really a relief to be free from the\ntrouble. The chief thing now was to sit on his horse and keep warm,\nwhich was beginning to be a difficulty.\n\nBut now Leif was in high spirits and proof against blows. He had\nprepared his mind for troubles and schooled himself to confront Fate.\nHe had cast all responsibility from him far into space! Let any one who\nchose undertake it! He was riding here--that was all. Could his horse\nget on? Let happen what would!\n\nHe did not doubt for a moment that the matter would finally turn out\nwell for him. He would get clear. _How_, he did not guess, neither did\nhe trouble himself about it. He had reasonably or unreasonably come\nto the conclusion that he might just as well stop interfering. Yes,\nhe would not venture to interfere. Suppose he turned off to the left\nnow, and by doing so lost the right direction? No, he would not touch\nthe bridle, but simply trust to luck. If he must pay the price for his\nrashness, he might just as well do it with the same coin. And if he got\nhome in that way, the account would be settled.\n\nThus he rode for a long time, but not so long as he thought. He was\nchecked in his progress, and therefore the time seemed more than\ndoubled. He thought he got on faster than he actually did. At last he\nsat half asleep upon his horse, which he kept going by half-mechanical\nmovements of his arms and legs. The horse went slower and slower. It\nhad lost heart, and would rather have stood still, hung its head,\nturned its back to the storm, and let time and destiny roll over it.\nLeif did not agree with the horse in the matter. He himself sat there\nand let come what would. But something must be kept going, or there\nwould be a complete full-stop. So the horse must continue.\n\nBut that was so contrary to the horse's will that Leif at last had to\nshake off his drowsiness in order to keep the animal going. And, in\nspite of all, it only went step by step.\n\nLeif was working again with his whole body. Nevertheless, he felt how\nthe cold was tightening its clutch on his limbs and already threatening\nhis stomach and chest. Leif was no fool. He clearly perceived that\nhis life was in danger. In full consciousness he took up the struggle\nagainst weariness, which by its temptation to drowsiness sought to\nsurprise him with sleep, that would be fatal in the frost.\n\nLeif rallied himself with a firm resolve. That was not at all to his\nmind. He did not in the least intend to give up. Twelve years could not\nsatisfy a hunger for life like his. He had much to do in the world. He\nwas, for one thing, a good way yet from becoming a Viking and marrying\nHelga. Would the forest never come to an end?\n\nAt last it did. Leif went on riding and riding. And what did he see?\nTracks of a horse which had been going through the snow. So he had then\nbeen riding in a circle. And where was he? That the wood only knew.\n\nBut now he would follow the tracks in the direction he had come from to\nsee if he could break the circle and, if possible, find his way out of\nthe wood.\n\nNow it seemed to him the chief thing to find his way out, no matter\nwhere. That was for the present object enough. He resolutely avoided\nlooking further in his thoughts. Unconsciously he armed himself against\nthe tendency of thought to weaken the mind. He would not have his\nstrength paralysed by too much reasoning. His business was simply to\nride on and fight against the cold.\n\nHe had lost the track again. The horse became more and more unwilling\nto proceed. It only went on because it must.\n\nSuddenly and unexpectedly he noticed that he was out of the wood. He\nsaw no more tree-trunks. Here there were only whirling clouds of snow\naround him. His only resource was to go on. He kept riding to see\nwhether he would not come across trees farther on. No, there were no\nmore trees. And what was he to do now?\n\nOn which side of the wood was he? He rallied his reasoning power and\nreflected. Yes, he must be on the same side by which he had entered.\nThe wind was due north--the direction he came from--there then was\nthe north. So he had been very sagacious as far as _looking_ went. He\nshould only have been sharp enough to see when the wood ended, then\nhe would have had the edge of the wood to guide himself by. Should he\nturn round and try to find the wood again? No, no, he might get among\nthe trees. And he had lost all desire to ride to the wood. The horse\nhad availed itself of Leif's reflections to come to a stop. Without\nLeif having noticed it, it had turned its back to the storm, and simply\nstood still with its head drooping.\n\nLeif sought to rouse it up and set it in motion again. Here there was\nno use in remaining at a standstill. But the horse had formed its own\nopinion of the whole expedition. It stood immovable, and intended to\nremain so. Leif expended much energy on its back, tugged at the reins,\nstruck it with his whip-handle, since lashing seemed of no avail, but\nit was useless. The horse had had enough and more than enough. It\nstood, and intended to remain standing for an indefinite time. Leif\njumped down and looked with astonishment in its eyes. What was the\nmatter with the beast? Had it suddenly got fancies in its head? He\npulled at the bridle, tried to tug the horse to one side, and made his\nwhip whistle over it. The horse sighed a little at such a cruel and\nsenseless proceeding. But it had once for all made up its mind to stay\nwhere it was. At that moment there was nothing that would make it budge\nan inch from the spot.\n\nLeif looked helplessly around him. He could not understand the horse's\nsudden predilection for precisely _that_ spot of ground. Was there\nperhaps something to guide them? Completely exhausted it could not be,\nas there was still so much refractoriness in it.\n\nSo he tried to treat it kindly. He talked gently to it, patted it, and\nscratched it behind the ears. He overwhelmed it with flattery, and sang\nto it in a high-pitched voice. Then he clambered with some trouble on\nits back again, and hoped that it had now changed its mind. But it\nhad not done so by any means. Leif began to get angry, but he patted\nits neck and kept a friendly tone. Since this still proved useless he\nuttered a wild howl with all his might, and threw his arms, legs, and\nwhole body into motion. At last he was nearly crying with vexation.\nThen he tried it again with friendliness and kind words, but it was all\nof no avail.\n\nSo he gave it up. The horse evidently _would_ not go farther. And since\nhe could neither compel nor persuade it, there was nothing to be done\nwith the creature.\n\nHe slipped from its back and tried to review the situation. On nearer\ninspection it seemed to be just as threatening and impenetrable as\nthe snow-clouds round him. As he stood there the wind lashed his face\nand pierced icily cold through his clothes. He perceived clearly the\ndanger of the situation. If the cold and his weariness made him yield a\nlittle, it was all over with him.\n\nIt was no use to let the horse stand and go on with his own strength.\nThe energies he had still in reserve were in no reasonable proportion\nto the storm and the length of the way. It was only a _little_ strength\nand endurance which he had remaining. But it was that little which was\nto rescue him. He kept his hands tightly clenched together as if it\nwere a matter of extracting some device by purely physical pressure\nfrom his oozing energies. He intensified his thoughts till he seemed to\nhear them beating in his skull. But it was as though all possibilities\nhad conspired against him and forsaken him.\n\nHe stood and set his back against the wind, and sought to combat a\ncreeping foreboding that there was no way of escape. He knew that once\nhe gave up it was all over with him. So long as he could keep erect and\nresolute there was still hope.\n\nHis thoughts forsook the beaten paths and travelled in the labyrinths\nof imagination, seeking a last possibility. A picture came up in his\nmemory. He remembered a Yuletide sacrificial feast at home ... the\npenetrating odour of blood and entrails ... the warm, gaping hollow of\nan ox's body emptied of its viscera. Before he had yet time to connect\nthought with action, his knife was out. He took the bridle off the\nhorse, with feverish fingers sought a certain spot in its neck, waited\na moment while he overcame his repugnance, and then made a thrust. With\na groan the horse collapsed on its knees. Leif rolled it over on one\nside, and so it remained, lying with stiff, struggling legs, now and\nthen shaken by a faint shudder. Leif made a cut in its neck, so that he\ncould, when possible, extract the windpipe and gullet. A warm stream\nof blood spouted straight into his eyes and blinded him till he had\nagain rubbed them clean. And now the intoxication of blood overcame\nhim. He had the scent of it in his nostrils and the taste of it on his\ntongue. With a single long cut from the fore to the hinder-part he\nslit open its stomach. The warm, smoking entrails bulged out of the\nstreaming gash. Leif snatched them out with his hands, but had to stop,\nbecause the heat nearly scalded him--shook his hands like a cat its\npaws--and set to work again. In a very short time he had cleared the\nanimal's stomach of all the entrails, with a round cut of his knife\nhe loosened the diaphragm, extracted the lungs with the grey windpipe\nadhering to them from the breast, and threw them away. Then at last,\nwith trembling fingers, he sheathed his knife, heaved a long sigh, and\ncrawled head-first into the horse's empty stomach. He coiled himself\ntogether like an animal, audibly growling with the sense of comfort and\nthe prospect of secure rest. But however he turned and twisted himself,\nhe could not find room for his legs. So he crawled rather crossly out\nagain, stripped off his cloak, wound it several times round his feet\nand legs above his knees, to preserve them from being frostbitten,\nand crept in again. He enjoyed the delightful warmth inside. Now it\nwould do him real good to have his rest out and sleep. With a light and\nuntroubled heart he lay down comfortably. Sleep--sleep. When he awoke\nagain, the snowstorm would doubtless be over. He chuckled inwardly;\nhe would simply stay here till it was quite finished! If it still\nlasted long he could easily live on frozen horse-flesh. He had still\na conviction that he would not die that day. Nonsense! Here he lay,\nand liked it. The future seemed bright and cheerful to his inner eye.\nHe wondered whether Ingolf would be home by now? In his fulness of\nsatisfaction and quiet he allowed himself to hope so. A little after he\nwas sleeping a sound, untroubled sleep.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nIngolf bore towards the west. He had the wind on his right side, a\nlittle against him. He had to climb rising ground, although not very\nsteep. He only made slow progress. But he felt his strength and how\nhis body was, as it were, braced together in one strain. And it was\nas though this consciousness of his own strength continually produced\nnew strength again. He was so absolutely determined to hold out till\nhe found Leif or fell dead that there was not the slightest breach\nin his will, where doubt and fatigue might insinuate their poisonous\ndisintegrating vapours.\n\nFor the present, his object was only to go round the wood to the other\nside and see whether he could not find Leif's tracks and the place\nwhere he had entered the wood. If he could find Leif's, or rather the\nhorse's, tracks, his dog would be a considerable help in following\nthem. And if _he_ could not find them, it was not impossible that the\ndog might. Such was Ingolf's plan.\n\nNow and then he looked at the dog faithfully plodding after him. When\nit ran along unnoticed, it dropped its tail discontentedly. It did not\nsee any object in such an expedition in this weather, and could not\npossibly approve of it at first. But as soon as Ingolf spoke kindly\nto it, or it only noticed that it was observed, it cocked its tail\nand sprang forward at his side, gladly barking, and talked to him in\ndog-language.\n\nThey went steadily forward, although their progress was slow. To his\njoy, Ingolf noticed that the wind was abating. The snow-clouds were\ngradually dividing, and the moon's pale disc shone against a background\nof blue. Around him spread a white expanse, abruptly broken by the\ndark line of the edge of the wood a little to the right. There was\nno longer an upward incline; he sped along easily and softly on his\nski, and looked about him. The snow-clouds as they departed opened an\never-widening horizon to his view. He must clearly ascertain where he\nwas. Now he knew the place and could do that correctly for himself.\nYes, he was up on the heath, and had only to turn to the right and\nfollow the line of the wood. His snow-shoes glided easily upon the\nsmooth, even surface of the snow. With each step he increased his\nspeed. For now a mental tension took hold of him, and filled him with\nrestlessness. He called to his dog, roused it up, and urged it on with\nshort, explanatory shouts. He made it understand that he was seeking\nsomething, and counted on its help. Suddenly the dog was awake in every\nnerve. Now he could understand his master and feel with him. Eagerly he\nran on ahead, nosing at the snow. Hither and thither he ran, in larger\nand smaller curves. Now and then Ingolf seemed to perceive in it an\nimpulse to stand still. But it never came completely to a stop, only\nmaking a half pause. The dog was so engrossed in its mission of finding\nsomething, though it knew not what, that it completely forgot its tail,\nand let it hang obliquely down behind, completing the impression of\nself-forgetting absorption.\n\nIt was as though Ingolf's mental tension had transferred itself to the\nanimal, which continually increased its speed. Ingolf had difficulty in\nkeeping up, although he sped as though for his life, so that the sweat\npoured in streams down over his face and dropped from his eyebrows and\nchin.\n\nThus they sped on for a long time. Ingolf knew well that he must\nhusband his strength. But it seemed as though the part of his\nexcitement which had communicated itself to the dog had returned to him\nwith double strength. He completely forgot to economize his forces. He\nput them all forth, well knowing that by doing so he imperilled the\nsuccess of his quest. He simply could not do otherwise. The one thing\nwas to hold out and follow the dog. He dared not keep it back. \"On!\" he\nsaid to himself. \"As long as you can keep your head up.\"\n\nSuddenly the dog stopped and began running round and round. Ingolf was\na good way behind him. He hurried on as quickly as possible, and gave\nclose attention to the animal, which now stood and sniffed for a time.\nThen it ran a little way in the direction of the wood. Oho! Here it\nwas, then! But what now? The dog stood still, sniffed, and ran some way\nback. Then it paused again. What was the matter?\n\nAnd see! Now it lifted its head, stood and sniffed now towards the\nwood, now in the opposite direction, with a slight, hasty jerk of its\nbody. Its tail was lifted too, and stood straight out.\n\nNow Ingolf felt certain. This was where he should enter the wood. Now\nthere remained nothing necessary but to take off his ski and to walk.\n\nBut before he had quite got up to the dog, the latter had already\nstarted again--away from the wood. Ingolf shouted to it. It must be\nmistaken. It stood still as it was ordered, but did not come back.\nIt remained standing, waiting for further directions. Ingolf called\nit again, but it remained standing as before. And now Ingolf heard\nit utter a low whine. What did it want? Ingolf shouted encouragingly\nto it and immediately it started off again. Ingolf followed, without\nyet leaving the edge of the wood. He thought the dog was still on the\ntrack, and only following it in the wrong direction. It would soon\nperceive its mistake and turn round.\n\nBut it was far from turning round. On the contrary, it came to a stop\nand remained standing by a slight elevation in the snow. There it\npaused and ran about, nosing here and there eagerly. It was easy to see\nthat it had found something of great importance.\n\nIngolf came to a stop. He had to rally all his will power in order not\nto collapse.\n\nHe could not stir from the spot. Was Leif lying there? Had a tragedy\nhappened after all? The gods he had braved had at last taken vengeance\non Leif for his insolence and mockery. Ingolf felt himself struck in a\nvital nerve. For how could he live after that?\n\nAs he stood there it occurred to him suddenly that here his race came\nto an end. Leif was dear. Only he and Helga were left. He with a stain\nupon his honour--in a fit of temper he had let Leif ride unhindered\naway from him to meet obvious death--a stain he could only wash away\nin one way--by giving himself a sacrifice to Odin. And Helga ... yes,\nHelga would not survive that. So here the race would cease. All his\ndreams, all his purposes blown away like chaff before the wind.\n\nSuddenly Ingolf heard the dog close by him. It stood in front of him,\nwith its snout lifted and its ears laid back, whining up at him.\nAt first he looked down without seeing it and without giving heed\nto its supplicating look; then suddenly he woke to attention. The\ndog certainly did not look sorrowful. It looked rather as if it had\nsomething special, and to a certain degree joyful, to announce. And its\nwhining also seemed to signify the same.\n\nIn Ingolf's mind there dawned a spark of hope. He set his ski in motion\nand followed the dog.\n\nBut the nearer he came to the white mound, by which his dog already\nstood, looking back beseechingly and whining softly--the slower he\nmoved. Suddenly he stood still as though struck. What was it? What\nsort of a sound was that? He stood still awhile and collected himself\nto listen. But his own blood's throbbing made it hard for him to\ninterpret the sound he heard. Suddenly the sound grew louder, till here\nwas no mistaking it. It was the heavy snoring of one dead tired.\n\nHere was Leif, then, calmly asleep. He was not too dead to lie there\nsnoring, so that it could be heard a long way off.\n\nIn an instant Ingolf was there; he threw off his ski and began to\nexcavate the snow with his bare hands. Leif in the horse's stomach was\nso covered with snow that no one could guess what this mound in the\nlandscape really contained.\n\nIngolf took hold of a corner of the cloak and pulled. Leif did not\nfollow it, as he had expected. The cloak came up empty, and only\nexposed Leif's legs to view. Leif was not interested in what was going\non--he continued to lie there and snore. So Ingolf began to pull Leif's\nleg with all his might, and at last dragged him out. A hasty look in\nthe hole showed him the ripped-up stomach of a horse. Leif opened a\npair of sleep-drunken and astonished eyes, rose with a bound, looked\nclosely at Ingolf and at the dog, gave a glance into the hole he had\nbeen hauled out from, shook off his stiffness, yawned, and began to\nrub his eyes, as though he wished to look more closely into the matter\nbefore he believed it.\n\nIngolf stood and stared at him without uttering a word. Leif looked\ndirty and bloody, but it was certainly not his own blood. He did not\nseem to have lost anything, and was at any rate alive. And how like\nLeif that was. He had at last rubbed his eyes well and was awake. For\na moment he sat with his eyes wide open and looked at Ingolf.\n\n\"Well, you have been home,\" he blurted out in a voice that was hoarse\nand still a little sleepy. \"Brought anything to eat?\"\n\nThen Ingolf sat down and laughed--laughed so that he had to hold\nhis stomach with both hands--laughed so that at last he had to fall\nbackwards, and rolled on one side. Leif looked at him, but his mental\nfaculties were still a little benumbed by sleep. Then he, too, began\nto chuckle inwardly. When, a little while after, they had put on their\nski, and were on the point of starting homeward, Leif stopped suddenly,\nand reflected. Then he looked Ingolf in the eyes and reached out his\nhand. He did not utter a word, but pressed his hand and looked straight\nin his eyes again. There was a slight quiver about his large mouth.\n\nThen quickly they loosed each other's hands. And they started off\nhome at full speed. They were as though born again, and did not feel\nweariness, cold, or hunger. By their side raced Ingolf's dog, his warm,\nbright red tongue hanging far out and his tail cheerfully erect.\n\nSo they sped along the way by the wood. Down the slopes above the house\nthey went at a pelting pace. When at last they were at home in the\ncourtyard, and had stowed away their ski in the outhouse, the dawn was\nbeginning to break. No one was up yet. Noiselessly they crept to their\nbeds. They did not feel bold enough to meet any one this morning. The\nbest thing was to take refuge in sleep from all explanations.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nHelga, though she had only lived for twelve winters, knew already a\ngood deal of life. She knew what it was to be anxious for one whom she\nloved. Long before she was conscious of her love for Leif, she suffered\nall a lover's anxiety. Leif took her thoughts with him wherever he went\nand travelled. And she could never feel secure about him. She could, on\nthe other hand, be sure that if she had not seen him for the space of a\nday, not to speak of the occasions when he was absent many days, that\nduring that interval he had been once, or probably many times, near the\nborder of the next world, and that it was at any rate only due to the\nincredible luck which always followed him that he came home with whole\nlimbs.\n\nShe knew, in fact, the long days and still longer nights of waiting and\nanxiety. She knew what it was to lie awake most of the night and see\nterrible sights. She turned restlessly on her bed, and neither dared to\nclose her eyes nor to stare into the darkness, because everywhere she\nencountered the figure of him she loved, either dead or dying. She had\nlearnt to prize two things which a woman, who must generally miss and\nbe anxious for him she loves, cannot live without--dreaming and work.\nShe knew how small occupations shorten the day, and the relief won by\nshowing love to animals, being kind to them, and lavishing kind words\nupon them, and she experienced the joy it gives to be loved by dumb\ncreatures. It was known to her, also, how the way is made easy to the\nland of dreams, where the hours fly quickly, by busying one's hands\nwith needle and thread. When she sat making something ornamental for\nherself or small gifts for him, there were moments when she seemed to\ntriumph over distance, and felt her friend so near that she suddenly\nlet her hands sink, looked up, and was quite surprised that he was\nnot standing behind her. Was it because she did not look up quickly\nenough? Just before, he _had_ been standing there! Helga, with her\ntwelve short winters, knew also happiness. There was the happiness of\nseeing Leif come home radiant, and hearing his dear, glad voice tell\nof great adventures. Leif always came across great adventures, so that\nhis tongue nearly ran away with him. There was the joy of noticing that\nhis eye always sought her first, and really only her. It was a joy that\nhe never found rest when near her, except at her side, and that he\ncould only be quiet and lose himself in dreams when she held his hand.\nIt was a joy finally to see him forget everything, even herself, when\nhe had some purpose in his head, or was bent upon going to some other\nplace. Even the pain at seeing herself thus forgotten was mingled with\nthe deepest feelings of joy. For that was just Leif's way. He came so\nnear her by leaving her. She loved him exactly as he was, regardless of\nlimits and without consideration. Because he was one of those whom no\nbond holds, it was such a happy thing to know that he was hers, when he\nonly remembered it--hers and no one else's.\n\nAnd, besides, she knew that she could not cease to love him. She was\nso completely convinced that though in knightly bravery and unbounded\ncourage he might, perhaps, have an equal, he could not have a\nsuperior. It was impossible for her to cease loving him.\n\nYes, Helga knew happiness. She knew what it was to love, and to feel\nherself beloved. She knew by experience how absence deepens and\nintensifies affection. She felt how her latent longing slowly grew,\nand was prepared to burst all bonds. She possessed in full measure\nwoman's pure and unbounded devotion. Matured early as she was, Helga\noften reflected on the relation between Leif and her brother, Ingolf,\nwhich caused her distress. She was fond of her brother. Ingolf, though\nfundamentally different from Leif, was such that if she once had to\nleave him in order to follow Leif, she would not make Leif so complete\nand happy as she ungrudgingly wished him to be. Therefore the great\ndifference in their characters caused her perpetual anxiety--an anxiety\nwhich flamed up anew whenever Leif and Ingolf became angry with each\nother, or even a little at variance. In her heart she accused them\nalternately--Ingolf, when his phlegmatic character irritated Leif; and\nLeif, when, by his hastiness and teasing, he provoked Ingolf. Neither\nLeif nor Ingolf had any suspicion of Helga's deep distress each time\na trivial misunderstanding divided them for a short time. For Helga\nconcealed her anxiety, and fought her battle in silence.\n\nShe was always on the watch for the fluctuations in their temperaments.\nShe could always perceive when they had been at variance, even when\nthey had been reconciled and had forgotten what had occurred, before\nthey met her. When anything concerned them, she was as sensitive as a\nfeather in the wind. And she did not cease till she had examined the\ncause of their disagreement to the minutest detail, and cleared away\nthe remnants of ill-humour which might still remain in one or both of\ntheir minds. They felt sometimes that it was a little tiresome, being\ncalled to account in this way. But they reconciled themselves to it,\nbecause both were so fond of her, and because she was wise, quiet, and\nimpartial. They did not guess at all that she fought for her future\nhappiness with a heart torn by anxiety, that her calm had been won by a\nsevere struggle, that her seeming cool, wise impartiality was a screen\nbehind which she concealed herself.\n\nHelga was the only one who, to a certain extent, discovered the real\ncircumstances connected with their journey over the heath. She was also\nthe only one who discovered that they had separated, and separated in\nanger. Finally, she was the only one who obtained a truthful account of\nthe slaughter of the horse.\n\nOriginally it was by no means their intention that she should find out\nanything of the matter. When Ingolf and Leif had slept uninterruptedly\nfor twenty-four hours after their return from Gaulum, they woke the\nsecond night, towards morning, hungry and depressed, and began to\nexamine the situation. They hastily agreed only to say that they had\nridden over the heath, and up there had been obliged to kill their only\nhorse, and for the rest to maintain an obstinate silence. If Orn and\nRodmar were in the mood to punish them, they must submit; and, for the\nrest, ride out the storm as well as they could.\n\nThey had soon discovered that Orn and Rodmar had more important things\nto think about. It was enough for them that the boys had returned home\nsafe and sound. They told them, seriously, that it was not the custom\nof a man of honour to break a promise once given, and that, since they\nhad done that, they could not yet be accounted men. That hurt their\nfeelings rather, but had to be borne. Ingolf and Leif discovered once\nmore that one escapes most cheaply when one has been most anxious. So\nlightly did their fathers deal with them.\n\nWith Helga it was another matter. She held on, and held on. For\nmany days they fought manfully; they did not want to make her their\nconfidante in the matter. But she was not to be shaken off. And at last\nthere came the moment when their tongues were altogether loosed, and\nshe got a full account, down to the minutest details.\n\nIt happened in the following way. Their plan of defence had been to\ntake care that neither should be alone with her. For many days it had\nbeen impossible for her to find them in a remote spot; not once had she\nsucceeded in getting one of them alone. When she saw that it was not\na fair fight, she had recourse to stratagem. She kept silence for a\nfew days, and they immediately became less vigilant. Then she brought\nout some wild apples which she had kept since the preceding summer.\nShe made them believe that she had seen her chance to snatch them. The\napples smelt delicious. Leif and Ingolf were immediately willing to\nshare the supposed stolen goods with her. So she succeeded in luring\nthem into her ambush--an outhouse where they could eat them quietly.\nShe let them bolt the door carefully, so that they should not run the\nrisk of being surprised. She took her seat on the edge of a sledge, and\nlet the boys sit, one on each side of her. And then she spoke in a way\nto cut off all evasions, and made it impossible for them to be silent\nany longer. Too late they discovered that they had been caught in a\ntrap.\n\nEmbarrassed and unhappy, they began their confession. With red faces\nand downcast eyes, they related brokenly and alternately what had\nhappened between them on the heath in the evening and the night. Each\nof them accused himself and excused the other. But Helga, who listened\nwith more than her ears only, became quite clear in her mind regarding\nwhat had happened.\n\nQuite still she sat with bowed head, and let them tell their narrative.\nWhen they had finished and were silent, she still remained still,\nwithout moving or speaking a word. At last her silence seemed so\nstrange to Leif that he lifted his head and looked at her in alarm.\nAnd what he saw increased his fear. She sat there by his side with\nher face white and, as it were, sunk in. Her eyes stared straight\nbefore her, her mouth was firmly closed, and tears trickled from her\ndespairing eyes and ran down over her pale face. Leif felt an icy chill\nrun through his whole body which made him shudder. This drew Ingolf's\nattention, and he also looked up. He had never seen his sister look\nlike that; immediately he seized one of her hands. It was ice-cold, and\nremained passive in his.\n\nTears came to Leif's eyes, and he sat there inwardly helpless. It was\nnot possible for him to bring out a word. He found nothing to say, and\nsimply dared not open his mouth, for he was on the point of weeping.\n\nIngolf was the first to speak. He pressed his sister's limp hand, shook\nher arm cheerfully, and said: \"You must not be so sad about that,\nHelga. We have forgotten it now. And each of us has certainly vowed in\nhis heart that it shall never happen again.\"\n\nHelga opened her mouth to answer him, but her tongue would not obey\nher. She had to struggle hard to control her emotion. When she had\nwaited a little, she at last began to speak. \"That is just it,\" she\nsaid, with a broken voice. \"It always gets worse and worse with\nyou--always more dangerous. When you are grown, you will not so easily\nget over it, nor so easily be reconciled afterwards. Perhaps you will\neven fight each other. Perhaps some day one of you will kill the other.\nIf things go on like this, there will at last be hatred between you.\nAnd what shall I do?\"\n\nIngolf and Leif sat and felt very uncomfortable. Both saw for once the\nrelation between them with her eyes. She was right. Things were growing\ncontinually worse. It was no use to shut their eyes to the danger. The\nnext time they fell out, it might be under such circumstances as would\nnot admit of their being reconciled again. They had not been far from\nthat this last time.\n\nIngolf was the first who found firm ground in his thoughts. A secret\npurpose was suddenly quickened in him. Hurriedly he rose and reached\nout his hand to Leif. \"Leif, will you be my sworn brother?\" he asked\nquietly, and there was in his voice and bearing that adult composure\nwhich made him at times seem older than he was.\n\nLeif sprang up and took his hand. He could not bring out a word, but\ngripped hard. Helga remained sitting and looked from one to the other.\nThen she rose slowly, laid her hands over theirs, and gave each of them\na kiss. \"Now you are both my brothers,\" she said, and looked at the\nsame time at Leif. Her look made Leif understand that he was more than\na brother. He turned red, and smiled in an embarrassed way. He had the\nhabit of blushing easily. His embarrassed smile was very charming.\n\nThey had forgotten the apples. Now they were produced, and helped\nthem over the slight embarrassment which followed on their extreme\nseriousness. Gradually Leif and Helga talked fluently. Ingolf, on\nthe other hand, did not say much. He sat and took a secret oath that\nhenceforth he would be a man, and no overhastiness of temper should\nmaster him. Nothing should by any means divide him from Leif or Helga.\nNow he and Leif were actually brothers, and Leif and Helga would hold\nby each other, he knew. Seldom had he felt so happy as at this moment.\nQuite unconsciously he sat and enjoyed his sense of strength and quiet.\nHe continued so to sit till Helga roused him with a question. Thus they\ntalked easily and enjoyed being together. When they separated, they had\nagreed that the solemn ceremony of initiation into blood-brotherhood\nshould take place in the spring at the great festival which was to be\nheld at the chief temple at Gaulum.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nOrn and Rodmar were able to make the winter pass. They sat most days\nand every evening on the high-seat, drank beer, and enjoyed each\nother's society.\n\nFrom the north came rumours of disturbance. There was still peace and\nno danger in Dalsfjord and its neighbourhood. But it was best to be\nprepared for everything.\n\nNow that Halvdan the Black was dead, and his son, Harald, made King,\nthough but ten years old, there were several kings and chiefs who\nsuddenly conceived a desire for the kingdom which Halvdan the Black had\nestablished. It was rumoured that Harald and his uncle, Guttorm, who\nwas to be regent during the two years remaining of Harald's minority,\nhad already gone out to meet the disturbers of peace.\n\nWhen Orn and Rodmar heard of it, they remembered the exploits of their\nyouth. The latter had not lost anything by being related through many\nyears. Listeners obtained the impression that Orn and Rodmar had been\npresent at the most important events of the world, and decided their\nissue. And it was not only men whom they had encountered. They had met\nevil and hidden powers in manifold forms. And here they sat after all.\n\nOrn and Rodmar were reasonable men, who spoke in moderation. When one\nhad spoken, he gladly let the other have his turn. And while the one\nwho was silent played the part of an attentive hearer, his look became\nabsent, he thought of fresh exploits, brought them forth, and arranged\nthem in his mind. Then when the other at last was silent he was fully\nprepared. But first he nodded courteously and said, \"Yes! Yes!\" very\nthoughtfully, and still kept silence for a moment to show that he had\nbeen following. Then all at once he became an active narrator. \"But now\nhere!\"\n\nThe servants in the hall were amused, but not in any unbecoming way.\nThey winked at each other when the old men did not see it. They did not\ngrudge the old men their reminiscences, and partly believed them. But\nthey were amused.\n\nAnd Orn and Rodmar showed a startling faculty at their age in\ndiscovering how to outdo each other's tales.\n\nWhen they had bragged their best, they went to the temple and offered\ntheir fattest animals to the gods, feasted in their honour, and gave\nthem gifts. They did not feel quite sure whether the gods allowed so\nmuch pride. And one should not offend the gods, but keep on good terms\nwith them.\n\nThus the days passed for Orn and Rodmar. They grew old, sitting in the\nhigh-seat and drinking beer. They drank much beer.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nOne morning, shortly after Ingolf had offered Leif blood-brotherhood,\nthey went to their fathers to tell them, and ask their permission for\nthe ceremony to take place at the feast at Gaulum the first day of\nsummer.\n\nLeif found his father in bed. When he had spoken, Rodmar praised his\nluck in strong language, added that he had always had better fortune\nthan he deserved, further remarked that on the rare occasions that he\ncaused his father joy it was always without any merit of his own, and\nbade him go his way and leave him, Rodmar, to his beer.\n\nOrn was sitting in the high-seat, slaking his morning thirst, when\nIngolf came before him and asked permission to speak. Orn granted it\nwith a nod of his white-haired head. The slightly absent look did not\ndisappear from his face; he listened without moving to what his son had\nto say. When Ingolf had spoken, Orn remained sitting silent. Ingolf\nwas not sure whether he had heard what he had said or not. It was easy\nto see that he sat in deep reflection. Ingolf remained standing for a\ntime, waiting for an answer. When he saw that it was in vain, and that\nhis father had probably forgotten that he stood there, he silently\ndeparted.\n\nOrn did not touch his drinking-horn again that day. He busied himself\nwith his thoughts, and was taciturn. Long before his usual time he\nsought his couch. Early next morning he summoned Ingolf curtly and bade\nhim follow him. He led him to an outhouse where the tools of the house\nwere kept, and bolted the door carefully. Then he took his seat on a\nchopping-block in the middle of the floor and sat silent. Ingolf stood\nbefore him, awaiting what he had to say, and carefully restraining his\nimpatience.\n\n\"Sit down,\" said Orn at last thoughtfully.\n\nIngolf sat down on some lumber which had been piled up against the\nmain wall. So they remained sitting a considerable time. Orn was long\nin commencing. \"You have told me,\" he began at last, speaking very\nslowly and, with constant pauses, \"that you intend to enter into\nblood-brotherhood with your cousin, Leif. I must presume that you\nare acquainted with duties of blood-brotherhood, and have carefully\nconsidered the matter, and also that you have not let yourself be\nsurprised into talking rash vows, or have followed your feelings alone\nwithout consulting your understanding. I will not disguise from you\nthat I could have wished a better brother for you in this. And I leave\nit to your discretion whether the circle of your brotherhood should not\nbe extended so as also to include Atle Jarl's sons. On many grounds I\nhave been led to understand that these young men, especially Haasten,\nwould not be unwilling to exchange the bond of friendship for that of\nbrotherhood. It needs but a word on your part, perhaps only a hint. My\nopinion is that you would stand stronger alone than with Leif as your\nsworn brother. You ought to be intelligent enough yourself to perceive\nthat. But the three would balance Leif, and more than that. You would\nstand stronger afterwards, especially if another tie subsequently\nshould unite us to Atle's sons, which I do not regard as impossible.\nFor the rest, Leif is certainly our kinsman. We should therefore look\nafter him, and perhaps he is best bound in that way. I do not wish to\nsay more about the matter.\"\n\nOrn was silent for a long time. Presently he resumed. \"I feel I am\ngrowing old. The days depart and do not return to me. They seem, as it\nwere, to go a very little way, and there is nothing to hold fast to in\nthem; they slip through my hands.\"\n\nHe coughed, reflected, and began again. \"Therefore I have considered\nthat perhaps it would be best if I were to make over to you our\nproperty to manage. It will be good for you to be early accustomed to\ncommand people and to bear responsibility. And you are certainly a\nchild no longer. I will therefore gladly see, before I die, how you\nprosper when you manage by yourself. For the rest, I leave matters\nwithout anxiety to you, and I shall be at hand, and can be useful.\nI will also advise Rodmar to do the same for Leif. Your task will\ncertainly be increased by that, for you will have to look after your\nkinsman, at any rate at first. But since you wish to enter into\nbrotherhood with him, you must bear the consequences. There is no\nmore to be said about it at present. We must have time to prepare the\nmatter, and can return to it later. There was also another thing I\nwished to speak to you about today.\"\n\nOrn was silent and reflected. Then he commenced again hesitatingly,\nnot without a certain embarrassment. \"I often heard in her time your\nmother speaking with you. It is now long since, and you were little at\nthe time. Probably you have forgotten some of what she said. But I have\nnoticed that you have remembered part of it--perhaps you remember every\nword. I have never spoken to you of your mother. You have never given\noccasion for it, and one should not talk too much. When one talks too\nmuch, words easily become mere wind. Therefore I have never hitherto\nspoken with you about something, of which, however, I wish to speak\nwith you--not because I believe it necessary--perhaps you are already\nas clear on the matter as myself--but because I want you to remember\nthat I have spoken to you. The fact that I cannot well postpone it has\nalso determined me to speak now.\n\n\"You know that Odin and Thor are especially my gods. They have been the\ngods of our family as far back as tradition goes, and I want you, like\nyour forefathers, to hold them especially in honour. If you do that, it\nwill go well with you. For wisdom and strength are the two things a man\nmust have. If he has them, he has honour too, in Valhalla as well as\nhere upon earth. Goods and gold, power over men, and great possessions\nare good things, which you should strive to acquire, and hold fast when\nyou have them. But all those things can, in case of need, be dispensed\nwith. Honour is the one indispensable thing, because, after all, it is\nthe only thing that uplifts a man, and the only thing that survives\nhim on earth, when he is dead and done with. And because honour can\nbe lost during a man's lifetime, a dead man with honour preserved is\nhappier than the man who is still alive, and whose honour is exposed\nto peril. It is not necessary to impress upon you anything else than\nthat; when your honour is concerned, you must be prepared to stake\nyour life. The memory of a man outlives him. And honour casts a glory\nover a man's memory, just as dishonour casts a shadow. No man in our\nfamily has a shadow on his memory. This is the most important thing\nwhich I wish to say to you. But if you have the patience to hear me, I\nhave something more to say. And that is this. You shall respect your\nland's law and justice, for as long as you have not renounced its law,\nyou are bound by it, and dishonour yourself by breaking it. You shall\nnot stir up unnecessary quarrels, but avoid disunion and strife, as\nlong as your honour is not injured. Peace in the land produces fruitful\nfields. But if you have a lawful vengeance to inflict, do so with a\nheavy hand, as behoves one born to such a place as yours. But be always\nready for reconciliation when it is offered sincerely. An honourable\nreconciliation is preferable to a victory which may carry in it the\nseed of future defeat.\n\n\"And never break a treaty, for only a wretch ignores his vows, only a\ntraitor breaks his word. A brave man is prepared to support his least\nword with his life, thereby the high-born are recognized. The churl, on\nthe other hand, regards his word as nothing more than the breath of his\nmouth. His tongue shall be eaten of snakes, and his evil memory will\nride his soul like a nightmare for ever.\"\n\nOrn had become excited. Then he was silent, composed himself again,\nmeditated, and was still.\n\nWhen he had finished meditating, he rose solemnly and drew from his arm\na heavy gold bracelet graven with runes and signs. Ingolf sprang up\nwhen his father rose, and remained standing before him with bowed head,\nand his bright face slightly flushed.\n\nOrn spoke: \"This bracelet has for a long time belonged to our race,\nand has always been an heirloom in the head branch of the family.\nSome of those who bore it have worn it till their death. Others have\ntransferred it to the future wearer when they found that their time\nwas near. My son, I am growing old, and it is no use to deny it or to\nhide it. Forgetfulness is getting more and more the mastery over me.\nReach me your hand.\"\n\nIngolf stretched out his right hand, and raised his head. There was a\nmoist glimmer in his eyes. Deeply moved, Orn drew the bracelet on his\narm. \"Now you wear the ring.\"\n\nIngolf fell on his knees before the old man, and Orn made the sign of\nthe Hammer over his head, and said quietly: \"Odin give you wisdom,\nand Thor strength. Frey make your land fruitful, and Njord guide your\nseafaring! All the bright Ases help thee! Rise, my son.\"\n\nIngolf rose silently. Orn laid his hands on his shoulders, looked for a\nmoment closely at him, and let him go. They went out into the courtyard\nof the house. For a while they stood there silent, side by side, and\nlooked out over the landscape where the snow-covered mountains rose and\nthe valleys sank. Ingolf saw everything, as it were, with new eyes. The\nfjord was such a crystal blue, and seemed to have something to say to\nhim. The dark edge of the wood, which he caught a glimpse of here and\nthere, held today a secret and certain promise of the spring and the\nsnow-free earth. The sky was high and clear, and the day had a solemn\nstillness about it. The frost in the air seemed to be relaxing. In\nIngolf's eyes the whole scene wore a solemn aspect, and seemed in a way\nnewborn. Even the low houses with snow-covered roofs seemed to have\naltered their appearance, and looked twice as home-like. When Orn went\nin, Ingolf remained standing there, and enjoyed the freshness of the\nday.\n\nOrn went straight in to the high-seat and his drinking-horn. His throat\nhad become dry from much talk. He emptied the horn in a moment and had\nit filled afresh. He emptied the horn many times that day.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nIngolf informed Leif in carefully-chosen words that his father would\nbe glad if they extended the proposed brotherhood so as to include the\nsons of Atle. Leif stood looking down while Ingolf talked. As soon as\nIngolf had spoken the first word, he felt sorry that he had brought the\nquestion up at all. Leif's attitude had an effect on him. He stood and\nfumbled with words which would not arrange themselves properly.\n\nWhen he finished, Leif looked up askance at him. He did not say much at\nfirst.\n\nIngolf felt a profound and unusual depression. He felt as if he had in\nsome degree deceived Leif. \"I only wished to tell you that,\" he tried\nto add, but was quite sure that his voice did not sound convincing.\n\n\"What do you think yourself?\" asked Leif at last quietly, and looked up\nagain, still with a rather unsteady glance.\n\n\"I have never thought about brotherhood with Atle's sons,\" answered\nIngolf quietly, suddenly recovering his equilibrium. \"I have offered\nyou brotherhood with myself alone, and am therefore prevented from\nforming brotherhood with another. But I understand from what my father\nsaid that there perhaps was a possibility that Atle's sons would like\nto enter into brotherhood with us. And in such a case I would like to\nknow your opinion beforehand.\"\n\n\"I have never contemplated forming brotherhood with Holmsten,\" answered\nLeif in a quiet, firm voice, quite different from his usual one. \"In\nfact, I do not choose to be everybody's brother.\"\n\n\"Well, let us say no more about it.\" Ingolf tried to speak lightly.\n\nBut Leif continued. There was a tremor of swelling wrath and distress\nin his quiet voice. \"I understand well that for you a brotherhood with\nAtle's sons is quite a different thing from brotherhood with me. By\nentering into the blood-tie with them you gain power and consideration.\nDo you enter _alone_ into brotherhood with Atle Jarl's sons; I will\nnot stand in the way. I release you from your word. I am able to stand\nalone.\"\n\nIngolf paused a little and then said: \"You misunderstand me, Leif. I\nonly want to bring the matter before you. It is possible that I should\nnot have done that. But I took for granted that we might already talk\ntogether like brothers. I will gladly confess that, for my part, I\nmight think it good to enter into brotherhood with Atle's sons--yes, I\nshould even like to have Haasten for a brother. But I could not think\nof entering into any brotherhood without you. There is no one else whom\nI would rather be brother to, and that you know well, or ought to know.\nNo power could induce me to release _you_ from your word, Leif.\"\n\nLeif stood thoughtful awhile. Then he raised his head and looked in\nIngolf's eyes with a firm and trustful look. \"I know well,\" he said in\nthe same quiet tone, \"that I am not the best brother you could have.\nBut you shall never have reason to find fault with my faithfulness. I\nimagine, Ingolf, that you are afraid that I shall some day be the cause\nof enmity between you and Atle's sons. With my good will that shall\nnot happen. My temper shall never again get the mastery of me before\nHolmsten. That I swear to you. I know that you like Holmsten, and that\nyou wish to preserve that friendship. You shall see that you can trust\nme.\"\n\nThe two cousins pressed each other's hands in silence. They referred no\nmore to the matter.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nThere came a beggar to the house: an old bent man, clothed in dirty\nrags and torn leather, entered the hall one evening and took a place by\nthe fire on the outer-most bench. There he sat and warmed his crooked\nfingers, that were blue with cold, and meanwhile squinted about him\nwith pale, cunning eyes. As he sat there, his yellow beard, in which\na quantity of nondescript rubbish had been caught, hung down between\nhis legs. His grey hair lay in tatters over his back. But his powerful\neyebrows were the most marked feature in his face. Grey and bushy,\nthey almost concealed his eyes when they were lowered, and he had a\nhabit sometimes of drawing them both up together and slightly lifting\none at a time, which gave his face a strangely mobile, almost animal,\nexpression.\n\nHe was questioned regarding news from the north, but had little\ninformation to give. As soon as it was evident that he had nothing\nimportant to communicate, he was allowed to sit in peace and warm\nhimself. It seemed as if he valued being left to himself. When he had\nsat for a while and warmed his hands, he loosed the rags from off his\nlegs and stretched his feet to the fire. They were a marvel of knotted\nbones and dirt. He looked exhausted. Some remains of the evening meal\nwere brought him. He received the food with a grunt, set it upon his\nknee, and began eating. With eager hands he first sought the best bits,\nand, groping about in the food, turned the contents of the dish round,\nchewing with his whole head. He certainly could eat.\n\nIngolf and Leif had sought a place near him, and sat looking\nattentively at him.\n\n\"I think he can hold as much in his maw as a cow,\" whispered Leif,\nabsorbed in looking at him. \"And he mumbles just like a cow chewing the\ncud. Ha! Ha! What an old swine he is!\"\n\nThe beggar emptied the dish so that only bare bones remained. Then\nhe gulped comfortably and relieved himself of air. Subsequently he\nfell into a cosy nap while he digested. Thus he sat for some time,\napparently sound asleep. But suddenly he raised his eyebrows both\ntogether and peered round him with wide-open pale eyes.\n\nIngolf and Leif had come near to him, and were contemplating him\nclosely--one his legs, and the other his face. They had seldom seen\nanything like him. He was certainly a remarkable object both above and\nbelow. He sat for a time and looked at them without saying anything,\nlooked from one to the other, contemplated them closely, and gave\nhimself plenty of time.\n\n\"Point and sword,\" he said at last in a deep bass tone. \"When the\npoint breaks, exploits are over.... But you sit where you should.\" He\nturned suddenly to Ingolf and thrust his face with his wide-opened eyes\nclose to his. Then he drew his head back, murmuring in a deep tone, as\nthough at his own thoughts. The boys believed at first that he talked\nin delirium. They sat still and only stared at him--Leif with his mouth\nhalf open. \"A curious creature!\" he thought, and felt internally much\namused.\n\nThe old man remained still for some time, looking closely and a little\ncunningly from one to the other. Their staring did not seem to affect\nhim. \"Shall I tell you something?\" he asked at last, growling, and\nwinking meaningly with his pale eyes. \"Shall I tell you about the new\nland?\"\n\nHe turned his face with his eyebrows elevated, questioning, and turning\nabruptly from one to the other.\n\nIn the face of such a direct application from this queer figure, the\nboys became at first a little embarrassed. They looked at each other,\nand remained sitting with bowed heads and fumbling fingers.\n\n\"Well, if you don't choose to hear it, I don't choose to tell you,\"\ngrowled the old grumbler, shook himself, let his eyebrows sink, and\nwithdrew into himself. The boys lifted their heads, looked at him and\nat each other, and suddenly became curious. Ingolf nodded to Leif to\ncommence, and Leif blurted out: \"Let us hear, old man!\"\n\nThe beggar slowly lifted his eyebrows, but not in order to look at\nthem. It seemed as if he had forgotten them, and did not hear what Leif\nsaid. He sat staring in front of him into the fire with an absent look\nin his old, strangely bleached eyes.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" he said at last, as if half unwillingly. \"Anyhow, it is\nall the same to me. Why should I tell you about it? No one escapes his\ndestiny.\"\n\nWith a loud and luxurious yawn he showed them an enormous throat behind\nhis yellow teeth. Then he closed his chaps and remained sitting silent\nfor a time. It seemed as though he were considering whether he wanted\nto open his mouth at all again that evening.\n\nLeif found this tedious, and summoned up his courage. \"It was about\nthe new land you were going to tell us,\" he said persuasively. And\nwhen the old man did not hear him he added inquiringly, in order, if\npossible, to rouse him out of his silent reverie: \"Has a new land been\ndiscovered?\"\n\n\"Don't you know that?\" asked the old man hastily. \"Don't you even\nknow that?\" he repeated incredulously. The boys shook their heads\nnegatively. \"Then it is not too early you come to know that, if one\ntold you. So you do not even know that. Ah, old Norns! How you can\nspin. You look after the loom without wavering even when the motley\nyarn is blood-coloured. Perhaps the one who sees should be silent. No,\nsome time you will _have_ to know it. Have you never heard of the new\nland?\"\n\nAfter a repeated shake of the head on the part of the two boys, he\ncontinued: \"One late summer, some years back, Naddod the Viking\nintended to sail from Norway to the Faroe Islands. But the gods granted\nhim no good wind, either because he had neglected to sacrifice, or in\nsome other way incurred the displeasure of Odin and Njord. They sent\nhim a storm, and drove him so far westward that at last he believed\nhe was near Ginnungagab, where the seas pour down into Helheim, but\ninstead of this he came to a great land. He ascended a high mountain\nto see if he could find a sign that the land was inhabited. But no\nsmoke was to be seen anywhere, nor any other sign of folk did he find.\nWhen he sailed from the country again, much snow had fallen on the\nmountains. Therefore he called the country Snowland. He and his people\nsaid that it was a good land. So some years passed without anything\nmore being heard of the new country. There was a Swede, named Gardar\nSvavarsson, who had possessions in Denmark, who sailed from Sealand\nto fetch his wife's inheritance in the south. When he had sailed\nthrough Pettlandsfjord, he encountered a storm and went adrift. So he\ndrifted to the west and came to the new land. He sailed farther along\nits coasts, and discovered that it was an island. He built a house\nby a bay which he called Husevig, and wintered there. When he sailed\nfrom the land the next spring the wind tore a boat, which he had in\ntow, loose. In the boat was a serf named Natfare and a serf-woman.\nPerhaps they managed to effect a landing and settled in the place.\nGardar praised the country much. He reported that it was wooded from\nthe heath to the sea, and had luxuriant pastures. He gave it the\nname Gardarsholme. It retained the name between man and man until\nFloke Vilgerdsson had been there. Floke, who was a powerful Viking,\nequipped a ship in Rogaland to seek Gardarsholme. He loaded his ship in\nSmorsund. Before he sailed, he arranged a sacrificial feast, at which\nhe sacrificed and conjured magic powers into three ravens. Therefore\nhe has since been called 'Raven-Floke.' A sea-mark was raised where\nthe feast had taken place, and was called 'Floke's Sea-mark.' It stood\non the border between Hordaland and Rogaland. First Raven-Floke sailed\nto Hjaltland and cast anchor in a bay which was named Floke's Bay. At\nHjaltland his daughter, Geirhild, was drowned in a lake, since called\nGeirhild's Lake. From Hjaltland he sailed to the Faroe Islands, where\nhe gave one of his daughters in marriage. Thence he put out to sea,\ntaking the three ravens with him. When he had sailed for a day and a\nnight, he let the first raven loose. It flew astern and disappeared\nin the direction from which they had come. Then he sailed for a day\nand a night more, and let the second raven loose. It flew aloft and\nreturned to the ship. Again he sailed a day and a night, and let the\nthird raven go. It flew forward and did not return. When they sailed\nfarther in the direction in which it had disappeared, they found the\nland they sought. Floke had on board a man named Faxe. When they came\nto a broad fjord, Faxe spoke and said: 'This is certainly a great land\nwe have found--here are mighty rivers.' Therefore the fjord was named\n'Faxe-mouth.' Raven-Floke did not sail into the fjord. He sailed past\na headland with a mighty snow-covered mountain on it, and across a\nbroad bay with many islands and skerries. He landed at a fjord on the\nnorth side of the bay, which he called Vandfjord, and the coast-line he\ncalled Bardestrand. The fjord was full of fish. They were so absorbed\nin catching the quantities of fish that they forgot to procure hay;\ntherefore the sheep and cattle they had brought with them died in the\nwinter from want of fodder. The spring was fairly cold. Floke ascended\na high mountain one day in spring and saw north of it a fjord packed\nfull with sea-ice. Therefore he christened the land and named it\nIceland. He meant to have sailed away that summer, but before they were\nready to sail it was autumn, and the weather became stormy. Floke had\non his ship two peasants, Thorolf and Haerjolf. When they were at the\nlast ready to sail, the storm tore away a boat from them, and in the\nboat sat Haerjolf. Haerjolf landed at a place, to which he gave his\nname and called it Haerjolf's Haven. Raven-Floke, who did not wish to\nsail without Haerjolf, put back to land and brought his ship uninjured\ninto a fjord which he called Havnefjord. At a river's mouth in the\nfjord they found a whale driven on shore. Haerjolf had also scented\nthe whale, and there they met. They called the river's mouth Hvalore.\nThey sailed thence and wintered in a fjord, on which Raven-Floke, who\nhad had enough of the land, did not choose to lavish a name. When, on\ntheir arrival home, they were asked about the new land, Floke had only\nevil to report. Haerjolf, on the other hand, praised it moderately,\nmentioned its advantages, and did not conceal its defects. But Thorolf\ndeclared that butter dripped from every straw in the land, therefore he\nwas afterwards called 'Butter-Thorolf.'\n\n\"And I have no more to tell you about the new land,\" concluded the\nbeggar rather suddenly, and shook himself uncomfortably--\"you can\nyourselves go and see it.\"\n\nWhen he stopped speaking, Ingolf and Leif sat for a time and stared at\nhim. \"Why should we do that?\" asked Ingolf at last. \"We have no mind to\nchange our abode.\"\n\nThe old man returned no answer. Leif sat thoughtful. When he spoke at\nlast his voice was muffled and seemed far away. \"It would be amusing to\nsee that land for once.\"\n\n\"You _will_ see it,\" growled the old man, and there was a peculiar\nmalicious exultation in his harsh voice--\"you will have time enough to\nsee it, I think.\" Suddenly life came into him afresh, and his voice\nbecame sharp and obtrusive. \"Get me a jug of beer, and I will tell you\nmuch more; I will show you a piece of the Norns' web, hoho! A charming\npiece. They have twisted threads that you can never guess. Bring me\nbeer, and you shall hear something.\"\n\nIngolf felt overcome by a strange and unusual bodily depression, and\nrose hastily. His spirits were suddenly upset, and he felt almost ill.\n\"Beer you shall have,\" he answered curtly and coldly. \"But now I think\nwe have heard enough for the evening. Come, Leif.\"\n\nLeif rose a little unwillingly. It was possible that the old man had\nmore information to give about the new land. Why not hear him to the\nend, even if he did talk some nonsense between whiles? But as Ingolf\ndid not wish it, it was all the same to him. He could himself speculate\nfurther about the island out there in the garden, and go into the whole\nmatter more closely with Ingolf.\n\nThe beggar had a jug of beer brought, which he emptied in small\ndraughts in order to relish it better. Then he lay down by the fire,\ncurled himself into a bundle, and slept. He remained lying there for\nthe night; the next morning he wandered farther. When Leif sought him,\nin order to question him more closely, he had gone. Leif tried to talk\nwith Ingolf about the new land. But Ingolf was always occupied with\nsomething else when Leif began to talk about Iceland. Leif did not\nobserve that Ingolf with deliberate intention avoided the subject.\n\nIngolf could not free himself from a certain anxiety that Leif might\nbecome too interested in the new discovery which the beggar had\nreported to them. It would be like Leif suddenly to begin to make\nplans to go there, perhaps migrate and settle there. That must not\nhappen, for Leif became unstable when he had conceived an idea,\nespecially if it were rather an unusual one. No, Ingolf wished to\nremain in Dalsfjord, in his father's house. He was strongly averse from\neverything which smacked of wandering and adventure. By his prudent\nmethods he soon brought Leif to forget the new land.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nThe winter was nearing its end. After Goi came Enemaaned, and then, in\nthe midst of spring, a fine Thursday ushered in Harpe, the first month\nof summer.\n\nOn the first summer day there was held in this part of the land a great\nsacrificial feast at Gaulum, which lasted three days and nights. On\nthat occasion there assembled, at the residence of the Jarl, chiefs and\nyeomen from distant parts, each bringing for himself some food and a\nlarge quantity of beer. Especially was it obligatory on those who were\npreparing Viking expeditions for the summer not to remain away, if they\nwished for honour and victory in their undertaking.\n\nFrom the early morning the place began to be alive. Great crowds were\nseen gathering from all sides. The sun was reflected from new-polished\nweapons, and shone on parti-coloured shields. The house-servants were\nfor the most part dressed in suits of grey home-spun frieze, but the\npeasants and their sons appeared in splendid foreign-made clothes. Red,\nblue, green, and parti-coloured chequered cloaks were seen in each\ncompany.\n\nAll day people continued to assemble at the house. The days passed\nin putting up tents, preparing for the festival, seeking out friends\nand acquaintances, making appointments for the summer, and settling\nvarious accounts. Atle Jarl was invisible that day. Only his closest\nfriends, and people who sought him on important business, were taken\nto the room where he had hid himself, busily absorbed as he was in\narranging or preparing arrangements for his own and others' affairs.\n\nAmong those who sought him that day and had audience of him was Orn\nBjornulfsson. Their conversation was quite short, and resulted in\nAtle Jarl sending for his eldest son, Haasten. Haasten was only for\na moment in the room with his father. His brothers, Haersten and\nHolmsten, waited meanwhile outside. Haasten told them nothing about\nhis conversation with his father. And when Haasten did not speak of\nhis own accord, his brothers did not question him. Haasten, Haersten,\nand Holmsten went about and bade every newly arrived chief welcome.\nThey wore splendid clothes, and carried valuable weapons and ornaments.\nOver his shoulders each of the brothers wore a long cloak of heavy\nsilk--Haasten a red one, Haersten a blue one, and Holmsten a green one.\n\nThey were all three fine-looking youths, tall and well-built,\nfair-haired, with noble features and quiet demeanour. As they went\nabout bidding the guests welcome, side by side, Haasten on the right\nand Holmsten on the left, few remembered having seen three such\nfine-looking fellows together. They were very popular; very many sought\ntheir friendship, but few won their confidence.\n\nAmong these few were Ingolf and Leif. Haasten made no attempt to\nconceal his gladness when he greeted the two cousins. Ingolf was the\nspecial object of his warm friendship. He included Leif because he was\nonce for all inseparable from his cousin, and because in spite of\neverything he liked him, and silently admired him for his courage.\n\nWalking slowly, the three brothers turned back to the place where\nIngolf and Leif were superintending the erection of tents, but their\nfathers had already disappeared. They had found a place of honour in\nthe hall, where individual guests were received. There they sat, tasted\nthe brewing of the house, and compared notes on the latest news with\nlike-minded friends.\n\nIngolf observed at last that Haasten especially wanted something with\nhim that day, and accordingly arranged that they should be alone for a\nwhile. Haasten went straight to the point. \"I hear, Ingolf, that you\nand Leif will tomorrow enter brotherhood. I have expected that some\ntime it would come to that, but it is happening somewhat sooner than I\nhad expected.\"\n\nIngolf interrupted him, though he well understood that he had not\nfinished what he had to say. He told Haasten briefly, but without\nconcealing anything, about their journey home after their last visit to\nGaulum. He hinted that Leif and he certainly were both anxious to enter\ninto an unbreakable bond.\n\n\"You know Leif,\" he concluded. \"You know how imprudent he is, and how\nhe needs protection. The shield that shall protect him will receive\ndints. But a shield he must have, and that shield I will be.\"\n\n\"Do you think that it would be of use if Leif at the same time obtained\nother shields?\" Haasten asked quietly. Ingolf grew a little pale, a\nfact which did not escape Haasten. For awhile they stood and looked\ninto each other's eyes. There was a strange silence between them.\nBoth felt that now their destinies were being settled. At last Ingolf\nreached Haasten his hand. \"Haasten, my friend,\" he said in a low\nvoice, \"I hope that we will always stand side by side where the word\nof friendship sounds as well as where weapons speak. But I think Leif\nwould feel a defence of shields as a prison.\"\n\nHaasten remained standing quite still with his friend's hand in his,\nand looked into his eyes. Both had a troubled look. Then Haasten said\nquietly: \"You have spoken, and it cannot well be otherwise. Let us each\nfor himself keep a good watch on our brothers. I have a sure foreboding\nthat it will be needed.\" He gave Ingolf's hand a final pressure and\nreleased it. Silently they returned to the tents where Leif stood\nengaged in friendly and cheerful conversation with Haasten's brothers.\nLeif had produced the knife which Holmsten gave him, and was showing\nwith gestures and much hilarity how he had succeeded in killing the\nhorse.\n\n\"The belt is paid for, Holmsten,\" he concluded cheerfully. \"Your knife,\nwhich once should have taken my life, has saved it. If you have an ax,\nhew at me and make me a present of it afterwards. I need an ax; my\nfather will not give me one. He fears I might test its usefulness a\nlittle too much. I have tried to steal one from him. But he has locked\nthe weapons up in a chest which I cannot open.\"\n\nLeif stopped when Ingolf and Haasten came up. A hasty glance convinced\nhim that something had taken place between the two. They were very\nquiet. He thrust the knife noisily into its sheath, and involuntarily\nstraightened his body from its careless attitude. Soon after, Haasten\nand his brothers withdrew. Haasten went straight to his father. \"Is the\nmatter arranged?\" asked Atle Jarl. \"No, I have been considering it,\"\nanswered Haasten, who did not wish to give his father full information.\n\"I fear that brotherhood with Leif Rodmarsson will cause us too many\ndifficulties.\"\n\n\"Very possibly,\" answered Atle. \"But Ingolf is a good fellow, and will\ninherit much property. His family has many friends, and will be a good\nsupport in disturbed times.\"\n\n\"My friendship with the cousins is independent of their entering\nbrotherhood.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" answered the Jarl dryly. \"You are in any case master over\nyour proceedings. My advice was only advice. May you never regret not\nhaving followed it.\"\n\nHaasten, who saw that his father was angry, did not answer, but saluted\nhim respectfully and retired. He was depressed and filled with heavy\nforebodings, but tried to conceal it as much as possible.\n\nThe day began to decline. Atle Jarl had taken measures, and all the\narrangements for the feast were ready. The animals destined for\nsacrifice were not allowed out at all that day. The fine, powerful\nhorses which were to be offered to Odin stood stamping their hoofs\nimpatiently in the stables. A flock of sheep, likewise meant to appease\nthe All-Father, pressed against one another, patiently resigned to\ntheir fate, in a pen, rested their heads on each other's backs,\nand chewed the cud over the last remains of the contents of their\nstomachs, now and then shaking their ears a little discontentedly.\nPlump oxen and bulls which, with one exception, should soon bleed in\nhonour of Odin, bellowed in all kinds of tones and butted against the\nbeams of the stalls. In an outhouse lay nine serfs and criminals with\ntheir hands tied behind them. They were to be hung in order to join\nthe storm-god's wild hunt. That day it was chiefly Odin who received\nofferings. But there was also a little diversion destined for Thor.\nAway in a corner of the outhouse, where the serfs waited for the rope,\nlay a ragged bundle. It was the serf-woman, Trude, who had been guilty\nof stealing, and who, as she must somehow say good-bye to life, might\nas well be utilized as an offering to Thor the Thunderer. When the pale\ntwilight of the evening had drawn its light veil over the landscape,\nsoftened its sharp outlines and changed them to vague, shadowy\ncontours, people began to gather round the temple. All their weapons\nthey had left under guard in their tents.\n\nThe temple at Gaulum was an old chief temple built long before the\nhouse became a Jarl's seat. The dignity of high priest had from time\nimmemorial descended from father to son, and Atle Jarl the Slender had\nthus inherited it. The temple was a large and spacious edifice, built\nof heavy beams, with its entrance by a main-wall furnished with gables.\nBurning and smoking pitch-torches hung fixed in heavy iron rings on\nthe walls, each watched by a serf. On entering, one perceived in this\nflickering light only indistinct images of gods who sat on their\nplatforms behind a low partition-wall away at the opposite end of the\ntemple. Within the wall no ordinary person ventured to tread; only\nthe priest and his consecrated assistants, helpers in the sacrifice,\nmight go there. The gods sat arranged in a spacious semicircle. There\nwere several of them, both male and female. Most were splendidly\ndressed, some even adorned with gold rings and precious stones. But\nthe three chief gods, Odin, Thor, and Frey, who sat in the midst of\nthe semicircle, drew the spectator's chief attention. In the centre\nwas enthroned Thor--here, as in many other places in Norway, the chief\nobject of worship. Thor sat in his thunder-chariot, to which were yoked\npainted goats with gilded horns. The goats were on wheels, as though on\nthe point of drawing the chariot from its place in the chief procession\nat Thor's festivals. In his right hand Thor held his short-handled\nhammer high uplifted. He had an awe-inspiring aspect. Straight in front\nof him was a thin slab of rock with a sharp upper edge, placed edgewise.\n\nOn the right of Thor sat Odin in a wagon, both larger and more\nmagnificent than Thor's, but without animals to draw it. Odin sat on a\nchair adorned with runes and sacred signs. He held a long spear in his\nhand, and stared threateningly with his one eye.\n\nOn the left of Thor sat Frey. His platform was a great stone, covered\nwith a parti-coloured carpet. In contrast to the other gods he sat\nnaked, holding a stag's horn, his only weapon, high in his right hand.\n\nIn the midst of the semicircular space, on a special elevation, stood a\ngreat stone basin in which the blood of the offerings was collected.\nIn the bowl lay a rod, used to stir the blood and then to sprinkle it\naround. On the mound lay, besides, the Sacred Bracelet, a heavy, open\ncirclet of gold, inscribed with sacred signs, on which all oaths were\ntaken.\n\nWhen the people had assembled in the temple, Atle Jarl the Slender\nentered, followed by his assistants. He wore white clothes with red\nborders. His assistants were also dressed in white.\n\nWhen Atle Jarl entered, carrying a broad-bladed, long-handled ax over\nhis shoulder, taller by head and shoulders than most of those present,\nthin and erect like the branch-lopped stem of a fir, he caused a gasp\nin many a young breast, and even old, hardened Vikings felt a slight\nshudder in their backs. This man stood at that moment in covenant with\nthe gods. They were brought into touch with the Unknowable. There was a\ndeath-like silence in the temple.\n\nAtle Jarl walked with dignity between the thick-packed masses of men\non both sides. At the partition-wall his assistants remained standing\nfor a while; only the priest could go within. He placed the ax on the\nmound where the basin stood. He saluted the three chief gods with a\nslow and solemn bending of the knee before each, and then included the\nother gods in one. Then he went back muttering secret words, took the\nsacrificial bracelet from its place, and drew it on his right arm,\nseized the ax with his left hand, and raised his right arm in command.\nThat was a signal to the door-guard.\n\nThe most splendid of all the sacrificial animals, a coal-black ox with\nshining head and large, crooked horns, was brought in by serfs, and led\nto the partition-wall by other serfs, chosen as sacrificial helpers,\nand consecrated to the service. At the same time two of the priest's\nassistants came forward, lifted the bowl from the mound, and placed it\na little way off. The ox resisted violently when led in, and uttered\nangry bellowings. It foamed with frenzy, and showed the whites of its\neyes.\n\nAtle Jarl stood with his left foot advanced and his ax lifted in both\nhands. At the instant the ox was placed in the proper spot the ax fell\nwith a powerful and practised aim on its neck. The beast gave a bellow\nand sank on its knees. Immediately the serfs stood over it with long\nknives. A stab in the neck and a cut between the neck arteries, and\nthen down with it to the basin, so that the precious sacrificial blood\nshould not be spilt. Meanwhile, one of the assistants kept stirring the\nblood in the bowl with a rod so that it should not coagulate.\n\nWhen the last drop of blood had been drawn off in the bowl, the\nassistants raised the dead body by a rope and carried it beyond the\npartition-wall. There it was received by other serfs, who carried it\noutside and immediately set to work to skin it.\n\nOther animals were now brought forward. One by one they were killed,\nand their blood emptied into the bowl. But their bodies were not\ncarried out afterwards, like the ox's. They were thrown on one side,\nand left to wait till the sacrifices were over.\n\nA speckled bull was offered to Frey. All the other animals were\nofferings to Odin, the god of battle, so that he should give success\nand victory to the Viking expeditions which would take place in the\nsummer.\n\nLast came Thor's only offering--the serf-woman, Trude, was brought\nforward. A pair of serfs dragged her to the wall, where two assistants\nreceived her and stripped her rags from her body. The crowd waited\nbreathlessly. But not a groan or a gasp came from the serf-woman,\nTrude. She was dragged by her hair before the Hammer-wielder, lifted\nup, and laid with the small of her back crosswise over the sharp edge\nof the stone altar. Then Atle Jarl made the sign of the hammer over\nthe offering, and the serfs pressed her down. A scream of unspeakable\nterror tore through the air, and died away in a blood-curdling low,\nquivering wail. With broken back the serf-woman, Trude, lay across\nThor's sacrificial stone.\n\nThe bowl filled to the brim was now lifted by the assistants and set\non its mound again. Atle Jarl drew the sacrificial bracelet off his\narm, rubbed it in the blood, and drew it on his arm again. Then he\ntook the rod and began sprinkling the steaming blood around. First he\nsprinkled Odin, then Thor, then Frey, and afterwards each of the gods.\nAlso the walls, ceiling, and floor he sprinkled with the protective\nsacrificial blood. When Atle Jarl had finished the ceremonies within\nthe partition-wall, the assistants lifted the bowl, and, sprinkling the\nblood on the right and the left, he went out of the temple, followed by\nthe assistants bearing the bowl. When it had been emptied of the last\ndrop, the bowl was carried back and set in its place.\n\nBut the sacrifices were not yet over. Odin's chariot was now drawn\nout of the temple, and two splendid white horses were yoked to it.\nThen a serf came forward, chosen for his stature for the part, and was\ndressed in the ox's skin, with the horns and hoofs hanging down and the\ntinkling bells attached to it.\n\nThe procession to Odin's grove was arranged, with Atle Jarl at the head\nbearing the bloody ax over his shoulder. After him came the serf with\nthe ox-skin and bells. Then came Odin in his car drawn by white horses\nand surrounded by white-robed assistants. The rear of the procession\nwas brought up by the crowd. Silently, the creaking of the car and the\ntinkling bells being the only sounds audible in the bright night, the\nprocession went forward to Odin's grove. There were waiting already the\nnine serfs and the criminals, who, by being strung up as sport for the\nwinds, should appease the storm-god, each tied to his death tree.\n\nOdin's car was driven forward to an open space, surrounded by sharp\nstones. Only the priest and his consecrated helpers ventured to enter\nthe ring of stones. When Odin's car was brought to the place, and the\ncrowd had arranged themselves, the assistants went, two by two, to the\nwaiting victims. One fixed the cord and made sure that both it and the\nbranch were strong, the other loosed the victim's bonds. One of the\nserfs wailed and begged for his life. He met only contemptuous glances,\nand was kicked and thumped by the assistants. As he would not be quiet,\nthey forced a stone in between his jaws.\n\nWhen Atle Jarl saw that his assistants had finished their preparations\nhe gave a sign. At the same instant the victims were strung up all\ntogether. Just before they had ceased their struggles a whistling sound\ncame through the wood. A gust of wind imparted a swinging motion to the\ndangling bodies. A thrill of satisfaction mingled with awe went through\nthe hearts of those assembled. Odin had accepted the offering. Slowly\nthe procession wound its way back from Odin's grove. When they reached\nthe temple, the dead bodies of the sacrificed animals had already\nbeen carried away by serfs, to be flayed and divided. The body of the\nserf-woman, Trude, had also been removed. It had been sunk in the holy\nwell by the gable-end of the temple. This was not the first victim it\nhad swallowed.\n\nOdin was drawn to his place on the right hand of Thor. Atle Jarl took\nthe sacrificial bracelet off his arm and laid it on the mound by the\nside of the bowl. This concluded the first part of the sacrificial\nfeast--the slaughter night. The people went to their tents and crept\nunder their skins, to get a little sleep. The early spring day was\nalready dawning in the east.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nIngolf and Leif went silently towards the tent. Ingolf was pleasantly\nfatigued, and felt cheerful. He enjoyed the mental relaxation and\ndreamy sleepiness which follows when an inner excitement has found\nits natural relief. He went from the ceremony confirmed in his faith\nwith strengthened will. He felt himself in covenant relation with his\nferocious gods.\n\nWith Leif the case was opposite. He had been sickened by the sight\nand smell of the blood of the sacrificed animals. All the rest, and\nespecially Ingolf's behaviour, had had a repelling effect upon _him_\nwho did not believe in the gods, nay, who had a profound contempt for\nthese ugly, bedizened images of wood. Ingolf's thorough absorption in\nthe ceremonies had made him sick at heart. Here was something he did\nnot understand. How _could_ Ingolf quietly watch helpless men being\nill-treated and murdered in honour of the gods? How _could_ he worship\ngods whom he believed he could appease by hanging serfs and criminals\nin their honour? Leif did not understand it. He felt himself suddenly\nalone, and an eager longing for Helga took possession of him. There was\nsomething about Ingolf which was beyond his comprehension. In relation\nto the gods there would always be something to divide them. Hitherto\nthis had possessed such a slight significance for Leif that he had not\ngiven the matter a thought. Now it grew suddenly, assumed a shape, and\nwas not to be got away from. Ingolf must certainly not become aware how\ngreat a difference there was between them in this respect. For if he\ndid, how could he think of entering into brotherhood with him?\n\nLeif's emotion seethed and fermented. With every step his inward\nexcitement rose higher. To speak out to Ingolf would never do; if once\nhe began to speak, wild and uncontrolled words would stream from his\ntongue. And he had vowed to himself never to let his fiery temperament\ndischarge itself in evil words over Ingolf.\n\nBut, on the other hand, the excitement in his mind gradually became\nuncontrollable. And now they were so near the tents, that only a few\nsteps more would rob him of the opportunity of relieving himself. He\nstopped, perplexed, without knowing what he should say or do.\n\n\"Ingolf!\" he broke out suddenly, as if in bewilderment; his voice\nwas hoarse and unrecognizable. Ingolf stopped, surprised, and turned\ntowards him. In an instant they were confronting each other, Ingolf\nwith an astonished, questioning expression in his eyes and face, Leif\nquivering in every limb with an excitement which bid fair to derange\nhis mind. He rushed at his cousin, flung his arms round him tightly,\nand hissed from between his clenched teeth: \"Look out!\"\n\nIngolf did not understand what he was about, and had no time to\nconsider. He needed all his presence of mind to keep on his legs,\nfor Leif attacked him with all his might, and his strength seemed to\nincrease with his exertions. Ingolf was not long in discovering that\nthis was serious; he had to defend himself or fall. Leif hissed and\ngroaned and bellowed like a maniac. Ingolf thought it was best to make\nan end of it, and passed gradually over to the offensive. But it took\nhim time, and he needed to exert all his strength to overcome Leif. At\nlast he succeeded. He took advantage of a slip on Leif's part, slowly\ndeprived him of his foothold--then came the decisive moment--Leif\noverbalanced and fell.\n\nIngolf remained lying on the top of him. He had a good grip, and\nheld him fast. Leif's face was purple and swollen, and he foamed at\nthe mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, and were so furious that Ingolf\nsuddenly felt pity for him.\n\n\"Cousin, be reasonable now,\" he begged persuasively. But to be overcome\nin such a purely physical way had been too much for Leif. He struggled\nhopelessly to get one arm loose, and when he did not succeed he hissed\nwith suppressed rage: \"I could kill you!\" Ingolf let him go at once and\nsprang up. But Leif did not do the same, as he had expected. He had\ndischarged his emotions now and had given up. He remained lying with\nhis eyes closed, while the shame scorched and burnt in his soul.\n\nIngolf stood for a little while looking at him. He felt the wrath\nlurking in ambush within himself, and bravely fought with it. \"What\nhave I done?\" he asked at last quietly.\n\nLeif did not answer, but remained lying there, quiet and motionless,\nwith closed eyes. Within himself he was silently and hopelessly\nwondering how he should set about opening his eyes and rising. Ingolf\nstood looking at him. He began gradually to understand him, and to\nenter into his feelings. Leif had madly set himself against the gods.\nBut what was the use of so attacking him, he would like to know? Well,\nLeif had his peculiarities in everything. Now he lay there and was\nashamed, and could not bring himself to open his eyes. The best thing\nwas to give him a little time to collect himself. Ingolf remained\nstanding awhile and waited. \"Come now, Leif!\" he urged, in a friendly\ntone, and Leif rose. Slowly he collected himself and got on his legs.\nIngolf stood and looked at him with curiosity. His features were\nrelaxed, and his eyes were dull and troubled.\n\n\"What was the matter with you?\" asked Ingolf earnestly, and could not\nsuppress a little laugh.\n\nLeif stood a short while without answering, as though searching his\nmemory for something he had forgotten. \"You needn't trouble yourself\nabout it,\" he answered in a weary and rather shy tone, but not without\na certain defiance. \"It was not you I hated, but your gods.\"\n\n\"So it was not very strange you could not win, cousin,\" answered Ingolf\ncheerfully. \"You are still too slight of build to fight with the gods.\"\n\n\"I shall not go with you to a feast any more,\" answered Leif,\nunaffected by Ingolf's cheerfulness. \"This once I may be allowed to say\nit, and I beg you not to forget it. Your gods and your worship of them\nare an abomination to me, and will always be so. Even if it should lose\nme my brother, I must say it.\"\n\nThere was a smothered warmth in Leif's words which made Ingolf serious.\n\n\"It is just with you, as you are, that I wish to enter into\nbrotherhood, Leif,\" he answered quietly. \"Your relation to the gods is\na matter between you and them. What you think of my worship of them\nis your own affair. But I am anxious that you should understand that\nI belong with all my soul and will to the gods. They were my fathers'\ngods; if I were false to them, I should be false to my fathers. Rather\nwould I this very moment sacrifice myself to Odin than that that should\nhappen.\"\n\n\"But then it is a sacrifice on your part,\" answered Leif quietly, \"when\nyou enter into brotherhood with me who despise the gods, and so have\nbeen false to my fathers.\"\n\nIngolf was silent for a while. \"It is another matter with you than with\nme,\" he answered. \"I cannot explain it, but I feel that it is quite\nanother matter with you. I should become weaker by not believing in the\ngods; you would become so by believing in them. We are so different,\nLeif. And I wish to be your brother as you are.\"\n\n\"I will do my best that you may never regret that,\" answered Leif\nquietly.\n\nThey went to their tents. It was already nearly daylight. In the east\nthe sky was faintly red; there was only a short time to the sunrise.\nIngolf and Leif did not talk any more. They crept silently into their\nsleeping-bags. But neither of them could close an eye. They remained\nlying quiet till nearly midday. When the sun was at its zenith that\nday, their brotherhood was to be sealed.\n\nLeif was the first who rose. When he had met Ingolf's open eyes, he\nsaid in a low, cheerful tone: \"Let us run to the stream.\"\n\nIngolf sprang up. \"Yes, we will.\" They ran to a place outside the\nencampment, where they were in the shelter of a cliff, and where they\nhad been accustomed to wash themselves when, as small boys, they\nvisited their friends at Gaulum. Ingolf dipped his head in the water,\nrubbed hard with both hands, and snorted cheerfully. But Leif flung\naway every stitch of clothing and lay down in the running water. When\nIngolf saw it, he immediately followed his example. And so they lay\nside by side in the stream, and let the cold running water stream over\ntheir bodies, as when they were little boys.\n\nLeif looked at the sun. \"We shall have to hurry.\" They sat for a little\nwhile, squeezed the water out of their hair, and let the sun and the\nwind dry their skins. But the water remained in drops on their skins\nand would not be dried. Then they took their shirts and rubbed each\nother, and then dressed in a trice. \"Let us go slowly back,\" said Leif,\nwhen they had their clothes on, and Ingolf had to look closer at him,\nfor such a proposal was very unlike him. Leif answered his questioning\nlook. \"Otherwise we shall be so breathless, and we are getting too big\nnow to run like children.\"\n\nWhen they came up from the little valley in which the stream ran, they\nsaw that the people were already gathered, and hastened their steps.\nLeif looked up hastily at the sun. \"It is not yet quite midday,\" he\nsaid, relieved, but went on.\n\nThey arrived at the place at the same time as Atle Jarl, who as\nhigh priest was to conduct the proceedings. Atle Jarl, generally a\nmild and amiable man, wore his severest expression that day. He had\nthe sacrificial bracelet on his arm and a spear in his hand. A serf\nfollowed him bearing two turf-cutters and two bright, sharp-pointed\nknives. The people had gathered round a circular space, marked out with\nwooden pegs. They readily made way for the two cousins and Atle Jarl.\nWhen they reached the place marked out, Atle Jarl curtly bade the two\nfuture brothers take off their shoes and stockings and step into the\nring. While they were doing so, he himself stepped into the ring, and\nwith his spear marked off a semicircle within it. Then Ingolf and Leif\neach received his turf-cutter with orders to begin, each on his own\nside of the semicircle, and cut a turf loose, taking care, however,\nthat both its ends remained firm. The turf that was to be cut loose was\nto remain a living part of the ground. Ingolf was set to cut on the\noutside of the semicircle, Leif on the inside. They each dropped on\none knee, stuck their turf-cutters into the ground, and began to cut.\nTheir task was to cut a solid piece of turf which would hold fast when\nit was raised. Ingolf cut with an even, straight stroke; he was quiet\nand undisturbed by the people standing and looking at him. Leif, on\nthe other hand, was nervous. He began cutting with all his might; his\nedge became bent and uneven, and sweat was pouring from him before he\nhad got half through. When the spectators saw their different ways of\nworking, they smiled and winked at each other.\n\nOrn and Rodmar stood just outside the ring. Orn did not look happy,\nbut he concealed his displeasure under a mask of indifference. Rodmar\nstood and looked angrily at Leif. He could hardly restrain himself from\nshouting to him and correcting him. He saw, however, clearly that it\nwould only make bad worse, and controlled himself. But he leant towards\nOrn and whispered as though making an excuse. \"Ingolf will need all his\nquiet and strength before he can get Leif tamed.\"\n\n\"He cannot be tamed,\" answered Orn in a low tone, but with emphasis\nin his voice. \"A horse with the staggers cannot be broken in; it is a\nuseless animal, and brings ill-luck.\"\n\n\"He is my son,\" answered Rodmar, who always found fault with Leif but\ncould not bear others doing so. \"You judge him too severely.\"\n\n\"He is your son and my kinsman,\" Orn whispered back sombrely,\n\"otherwise this ratification of brotherhood would not have taken\nplace--at least as long as I had a breath left in my body.\"\n\nIngolf and Leif had now cut loose the piece of turf, and went together\nto lift it. They raised it carefully till it stood straight up and\nformed an arch. Then Atle Jarl stepped in and placed his spear in\nthe middle of the arch to hold the turf up. He himself stood and\nsupported the spear while Ingolf and Leif cut loose an oblong turf\nunder the arch. Their blood was not to run on the greensward, but\nwas to mingle on the bare earth. When they had finished they gave up\ntheir turf-cutters, and at Atle Jarl's command stepped in under the\nturf arch, each on his own side of the spear-shaft. Atle Jarl now\ndictated the oath, and they vowed mutual brotherhood, each with his\nright hand on the sacred bracelet. When the oath had been taken, serfs\ncame with knives. Atle Jarl received the knives and handed them to the\nnewly-sworn brothers, with the command to confirm the brotherhood they\nhad just inaugurated by letting their blood flow jointly on the sacred\nearth. Atle Jarl showed them briefly where they should pierce their\ncalves with the knives.\n\nIngolf and Leif both did so at the same moment. Ingolf thrust his\nknife-point well in and cut a deep gash. Leif put his knife right\nthrough so that the point projected a couple of inches on the other\nside of his calf. He had difficulty in drawing it out again. The blood\nran down in red streams. The spectators felt a strange shuddering\nthrill at seeing how it oozed out from under the naked soles of their\nfeet. Leif watched the course of his blood attentively as it approached\nIngolf's on the brown scar of earth between them. As it seemed to him\nto go too slowly, he stooped down, directed the streams of blood with\nthe point of his knife, and stirred the blood and earth round between\nhim and Ingolf. A laugh then rang out in the air from hundreds of\nthroats. Even Orn smiled, though against his will, and Atle Jarl's eyes\nassumed a milder expression.\n\nLeif looked hastily up and straightened himself with a jerk. He looked\nround, a little astonished, and his eyes rested on Ingolf. A very\npleasant smile lay on Ingolf's face, and there was a moist glimmer in\nhis eyes.\n\nAtle Jarl now proclaimed that Ingolf Arnarson and Leif Rodmarsson had\nentered into legal brotherhood, and named the witnesses. With that the\nsolemn ceremony was at an end. The grass-turfs were carefully laid down\nagain in order that they might grow firm and be incorporated with the\nearth's life.\n\nIngolf and Leif were now joined together by the strongest bonds that\nexist--the blood-tie between brothers, the most sacred and inviolable\nof all blood and family ties. The earth by which they had been formed\nin different mothers' wombs had now drunk their blood mingled, and had\nat the same time given them new birth, since they had passed together\nunder the turf arch, a part of earth's living frame. The earth knew\nnow, and had recognized their covenant--a covenant no power could\nbreak. The sons of Atle were the first who approached to tender their\ngood wishes on the occasion.\n\nHaasten pressed Ingolf's hand and whispered confidentially: \"You have\nin Leif made a brother who at any time and without hesitation will\ngive his blood for you to the last drop. Keep always a watchful eye on\nhim, for his mind is as easily moved as a willow, but it has also the\nwillow's toughness.\"\n\nHolmsten handed over to Leif a broad-bladed, long-shafted battle-ax\nwith a handle inlaid with gold, a splendid weapon, which made\nLeif colour with joy. \"Here is an ax for you, friend Leif,\" he\nsaid cheerfully. \"Swing it bravely, but take care that you do not\nabsent-mindedly come to cleave your friends' heads with it!\"\n\nLeif was moved to tears. He kissed Holmsten for the ax. Leif and\nHolmsten's friendship lasted for whole days, to the great joy and\nrelief of Ingolf and Haasten. They had never before been able to keep\nthe peace for even a few hours at a time. Ingolf began to believe that\nthe costly gifts which had been exchanged between Holmsten and Leif\nmust have some special significance. He felt unusually cheerful in\nspirits that day. Leif also felt a peace and sense of security which\nwas strange to him. It was as though the responsibility which he had\nassumed in entering into brotherhood evoked his manhood. He seemed to\nhave suddenly grown adult. His mind had found an equilibrium, which\nacted beneficially, and was plainly traceable in his bearing.\n\nEvening came, and the second night of the sacrificial feast was about\nto commence. As people began to go to the temple, Leif said to Ingolf:\n\"I shall not go. I shall remain at home in the tent.\"\n\n\"Very well, I won't go either,\" said Ingolf, and tried to appear as\nthough it were a matter of indifference to him.\n\nBut Leif would not hear of that. \"Those who know me will not be\nsurprised that I remain away,\" he said. \"It is another matter with you.\nIf you won't go alone, you will oblige me to go with you, and I don't\nmuch like going there.\"\n\nAt last Ingolf went alone. When he entered the temple the people were\nalready assembled with great jubilation and much noise. On the floor\nthere was burning a fire from one end of the temple to the other\noutside the partition-wall. This fire, named Langildene (\"the long\nfires\"), could be crossed at various points, though only by going\nthrough the lambent flames. Over it hung great cauldrons, whence the\nfumes of the meat of the sacrifices filled the air with vapour and\nsmoke tempting to hungry stomachs.\n\nTables and benches were arranged on both sides of the fire. It was some\ntime before each man had his horn. Then Atle Jarl rose, consecrated the\ndrinking, and proposed the toast in honour of Odin. It was a toast for\nVictory and Might, and everyone had to empty his horn to the bottom.\nSome made the sign of the hammer over the horn of mead. They were\nthose who trusted in their own power and might. They consecrated their\ndrinking to Thor. Now other serfs entered, bearing great dishes. They\nfished the meat out of the cauldrons with hooks, filled the dishes, and\nbore them round. Then began a festive battle for the best morsels, with\nshouting and laughter which shook the temple.\n\nWomen now entered, lifted the gods down from their platforms, took off\ntheir dresses, and began to rub them with the fat of the sacrificial\nanimals. This was a very solemn ceremony.\n\nWhen the guests had appeased their first hunger, full horns stood again\nbefore them. Atle Jarl blessed the drinking, and they all emptied their\nhorns in honour of Thor. Then they ate again, but now quietly and\ndeliberately. The dishes were emptied and filled anew. There was no\nscarcity of food or of beer.\n\nThey drank horns to Njord and to Frey for peace and fertility. They\ndrank a horn to Brage, with which they pledged solemn vows. Last of\nall, Atle Jarl rose, always steady on his legs and firm in his voice\n(he had tasted mead before), blessed the drinking, and proposed a toast\nin memory of their deceased kinsmen. That toast used not to be very\nwidely observed--by that time many lay under the table. Others had gone\noutside, and the rows of the feasters grew thinner.\n\nWhen Ingolf had gone to the temple, Leif's newly found mental\nequilibrium suddenly forsook him. He was overcome by a feeling of\ndisquiet, strong and not to be shaken off--a fit of impatience which\nrankled in his breast, and made him perspire and feel unwell.\nSomething must be done, he knew not what, until it suddenly became\nclear to him that he could not do without Helga any longer. He ran\nhome to the house and got hold of a serf, whom he sent with a message\nto Ingolf. Then he took a bridle in his hands and a saddle over\nhis shoulders and went off to find his horse. There was a strange\nfeverishness in all his proceedings, but he was cheerful and light of\nheart, as was always the case when he had overcome uncertainty and\nbetaken himself to action. He found his horse, caught and saddled it,\nand went straight homewards at full gallop. He dared not think at all,\nfor it was plain to him that it would be too long before he could see\nHelga, and the thought made his heart sick. A feeling of longing was on\nhim, a longing of the strong kind, which grows in force if one gives\nway to it. His rapid riding gave him relief, and released him from\nthinking. He entered into a strange relation with the paths he rode by,\nand every stone and bush which he passed on the way. A pasture which\nhe went by reminded him of the horse, and he dismounted, took off the\nsaddle and bridle, and lay down. The horse rolled on its back awhile,\nthen rose and began grazing eagerly. This haste seemed to quiet Leif's\nlonging, and he lay comfortably there. He allowed the horse to still\nits sharpest pangs of hunger, but soon his patience was over, exhausted\nand vanished. He saddled the horse again and went off at full gallop.\nDaylight came, and he was forced to stop and let the horse breathe\nand graze a little. This time Leif could not lie still, while it was\ngrazing. He sat a little, walked a little, and was restless. Long\nbefore the proper time he saddled the horse again, but before mounting\nthis time he patted its neck and head, scratched it behind the ear, and\nspoke kindly to it: \"If you hold out, I will remember you as long as we\nboth live!\"\n\nSo it carried him forward again, over hill and dale, over smooth,\ngrassy plains and stony tracts, over clear streams and roaring rivers.\nThe horse's clattering hoofs awoke in the air alternately falling and\nrising echoes. So the incredible was accomplished, and the length of\nthe way slowly overcome. One morning at sunrise Leif arrived home.\nHelga stood outside the house as though she had expected him, and the\nworld seemed new.\n\n\"It is you, Leif,\" said Helga, and did not conceal her gladness. Leif\nhad already sprung from his horse. He ran to her and flung his arms\naround her. \"Helga,\" he said, and kissed her. \"I _had_ to come home all\nat once.\" Helga laughed.\n\n\"I dreamt of you last night,\" she said, and kissed him. \"_That_ was\nwhat I dreamt.\"\n\n\"What?\" asked Leif.\n\n\"That I kissed you.\"\n\nAnd she kissed him again. That was a happy day.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nYears passed and nothing happened. There was much talk of disturbance\nand disquiet in the north of the country. The young King Harald and his\nuncle, Guttorm, were continually engaged in warfare. Various raisers of\ndisturbance had already been suppressed, but new ones were continually\nstarting up. The latest rumour current was, that the young King\npurposed, as soon as he had given peace to his Kingdom, to extend it.\nIt did not look as if he had peaceful intentions. Dalsfjord as yet was\nravaged only by rumours. No events themselves, only the faint thunders\nthey aroused, came near there.\n\nOrn, however, was always of opinion that it was safest for Rodmar to\nremain; especially as Leif had now undertaken the management of the\nproperty, and Rodmar might as well remain in one place as another.\n\nMuch beer was brewed in Orn's house. Perhaps it was not without some\nconnection with this that Orn and Rodmar's talk took all the more\na prophetic tinge. Obscure and rather disconnected wisdom flowed\nliberally from their lips. Leif called this wise talk nonsense, and\nwas not ashamed to laugh openly in his father's face when he was more\nwise and obscure than ever. Ingolf, on the other hand, although with\nsome difficulty, continued to invest Orn with a halo of dignity, and\nshowed him all possible filial reverence. He always consulted him in\nimportant questions, although certainly only for form's sake. And he\nnever brought forward a matter without having first procured permission\nto speak. This pleased Orn in a high degree, although he sometimes felt\nsomewhat embarrassed by it, and almost always showed peevishness to his\nson.\n\nOrn was by no means easy to deal with. For example, Ingolf, at the\nbeginning of the spring when he completed his nineteen winters, went\nto him to hear his opinion regarding the sowing plans he had made for\nthe summer, and also about a necessary enlargement of the salt-kilns.\nOrn looked up at him with a scornful and malicious look in his\ndrink-swollen eyes, heard fully all he had to say, and at last broke\nout harshly on him.\n\n\"You are only a peasant! A good-for-nothing you are, although you are\ntall and heavy enough! You wear the family bracelet! What honour have I\nfrom you? There is no energy in you. Do you think one finds honour in\nthe fields? Do you think one can plough it out of the ground? Food you\nfind, but never any honour. Do you think a man keeps fresh by burning\nsalt all his life? Keep away from me with your salt-burning and your\nsowing-plans. Would any one believe you were a free man's son, and\nsoon full grown? Speak with the serfs about it. No--Harald, Halvdan\nthe Black's son--there is a fellow with some stuff in him! You'll feel\nhis knuckles one day--wait and see! He'll mark you all with the brand\nof slavery--every man of you. Each and all of you will have to pay\ntribute to him, if you do not want to be shorter by a head or to have\nyour necks stretched! It is said that he intends to subdue all Norway\nand to become sole King. How old are you now? Nineteen winters? He is\nfour years younger! You are no King--no! You are right in that. But\nyour forefathers were chiefs, and ruled themselves, and ruled others as\nthe King's peers. Go off to your fields and your salt-burning--I won't\nlisten to you any more. I won't _see_ you! Go! Ha! Wait a little. Go\nfirst to the smith, and have your fathers' weapons smelted down into\nmeat-axes! Have you not increased your stock? Are you not in want of\nmeat-axes! No, it was something different in my youth. If I had been\nin my prime now, the good Harald would have found at least one neck he\ncould not break. Unless, indeed, I had deemed it wisest to assist him.\nThat also might be a way to honour. But you have only thoughts for your\nfields and your salt-burning. Go!\"\n\nThus Orn spoke, and was very irritable. Ingolf listened to him\npatiently without moving a muscle. And when he received the command\nto go he retired with a respectful salute. He honoured the family in\nhis father, and did not wear the family bracelet in vain on his young\narm. Ingolf looked after his property; Leif neglected his. For the\nfirst two years Leif had managed remarkably well alone. But when it\nno longer amused him to rule and give orders to the house-servants,\nhe began to become somewhat careless. It was to his advantage that\nhis people were reliable and fond of him--remarkably so, in fact. He\nmight scold them thoroughly, using the whole of his copious vocabulary\nuntil his voice failed him. He might beat them and abuse them, and bid\nthem ten thousand times to go the straight way north or down to hell.\nThey admired his readiness of speech and energetic irritability. It\nwas always enlivening to see him in a rage. And it was characteristic\nof him that his wrath was forgotten as soon as it had blazed up. It\nflashed up like a fire of pine-needles and burnt out at once. Besides,\nhe was not small-minded, and let every one manage his own affairs, so\nlong as he minded his work. He was a kind and cheerful master to serve\nunder. Many plants grew in his track, but never the plant of dullness.\n\nIngolf had another way with his people. He immediately became a father\nand providence for them. He was considerate towards the old, and let\nthem have an easy time. They were never weary of blessing him. He\nvisited them often, and his visit was always like a gift. He showed\nan equable temper with his people, demanded a certain amount of work\nfrom them, and expressed in encouraging words his satisfaction with\nwork well done. On the other hand, no one had ever heard a threat from\nhis mouth. He had his own way of showing displeasure by a certain\nindifferent silence which did not fail of its effect. No one liked to\nfeel himself the object of that quiet taciturnity. His peaceful manner\ndiffused a peculiar sense of security around him. He was careful in his\nchoice when he engaged new people, which rarely happened. Those whom he\nhad once engaged remained with him.\n\nLeif could not alter his nature; he was just Leif, once and for all.\nWhen he had managed his property with diligence and watchfulness for\nthree years it amused him no longer. He began to slacken, and let\nthings go at haphazard. And since they did not seem to go altogether\nbadly that way, he gradually preferred not to look after them at all.\nSo Ingolf found him going idle for whole months at a time. Ingolf\nwondered at him. How could he choose to go on and undertake nothing?\nNo, that was going too far. Ingolf secretly kept an eye on Leif's\nproperty, and saw that it was managed in some way without him, although\nnot thoroughly. So there was all the less reason for him to interfere\nin Leif's way of living. There resulted a good deal of restraint\nbetween the two sworn brothers which was unavoidable. Ingolf tried his\nbest not to let himself be irritated by Leif's idle ways. He exerted\nhimself to meet him as unconstrainedly as before. But his openness\nwas not natural as it used to be, and seemed forced. Leif noticed it\nwithout thinking about it, and the feeling of restraint between them\ncontinued.\n\nOnly seldom did Leif follow Ingolf to the fields or to other business.\nTheir unconscious inner tension robbed their intercourse of all outer\ncomfort or heartiness. The sense of brotherhood and family feeling\nbetween them decreased greatly, and threatened to vanish.\n\nIngolf be-took himself to work as a defence. He wrapped himself in\nbusiness as in a coat of mail, and work shielded him to a certain\nextent. But the unavoidable vacant hours were like rents in his armour.\nAnd the weapons Ingolf had to fight against immediately found every\nexposed place.\n\nLeif was not the man to notice that something had happened when nothing\nhad really done so. He only felt boredom and emptiness, and the\ndifficulty there is in making time pass when like a refractory horse it\nbegins rearing on its hind-legs. Either he sat alone with Helga and let\nthe hours fly, or he simply lay and lazed somewhere, staring into space\nand wondering what purpose there can be in a useless day. His mind\nbecame every day more unbalanced, and his temper was like a sportive\nsquirrel. Sometimes his restlessness and impatience impelled him to\ntease and vex those who surrounded him. Not even Helga escaped; on the\ncontrary, just because she was the most helpless before him, it was she\nwho suffered most. Not rarely his words made her cry. Afterwards he sat\nsilent and helpless, unable to repair what he had done, and feeling\nintolerable pain.\n\nLeif's only excuse was that he was Leif and had lost his balance. The\nhopeless melancholy of youth was upon him.\n\nYears passed and nothing happened. Hitherto each year had had one\nevent. They visited Gaulum, or Atle's sons visited them. One winter\nLeif and Ingolf were invited to the feast at Gaulum; the next winter\nthey were the hosts. Hitherto in Leif's mind there had been a halo\nabout these feasts; he had awaited them with eagerness and taken part\nin them with a happy fervour of abandonment. Now he hardly cared to\nthink of them any more, and had quite ceased to take pleasure in them.\n\nFor there had gradually risen in Leif's mind, although he carefully\nconcealed it, a strong ill-will against Atle's sons, especially\nHolmsten. Holmsten had always been a thorn in his side. Holmsten's\nvoice and vocabulary, his smile, his way of being silent, and his whole\ncharacter had an irritating effect on Leif. At times, when he was not\nespecially sensitive, he could, as it were, lock such feelings out.\nBut there were other times when he stood and actually shivered with\nirritation merely at seeing and hearing Holmsten. But, faithful to his\noath of brotherhood and promise to Ingolf, he suppressed all feelings\nof that kind as best he could. In any case, they never broke out. Thus\nit happened that Holmsten once in a humourous mood made merry over\nLeif's appearance. He meant nothing serious by it, but an innocent\nremark about Leif's large nose slipped thoughtlessly out of his mouth.\nWhen he saw what effect it had upon Leif, who became quite red in the\nface, he was immediately sorry, and said nothing. When Leif had thus\ncome to know what he looked like, his eyes were suddenly opened to\nsee how handsome Atle's sons were. From that day it was that he began\nto hate them in his heart, especially the youngest. He now noticed\nalso how they looked at Helga, when they were on a visit. He did not\nlike those looks. Of course he could well understand that they could\nscarcely keep their eyes from Helga. But Helga was his, and that made\na difference. And although Atle's sons could not know that, yet at any\nrate they ought not to look at Helga so. It was especially Holmsten\nwith whom Leif found himself angry--Holmsten, whose existence from\nthe time that Leif was a boy had rankled like a thorn in his mind.\nHolmsten was undeniably the handsomest of the brothers, perhaps because\nhe, as the youngest, was now at the handsomest age. Moreover, it was\nHolmsten whose look fastened on Helga with the greatest pertinacity.\n\nLeif was pained, and suffered. The most intolerable part about it\nalmost was that it was impossible for him to let Helga notice his\njealousy. She did not give the slightest occasion for it, but that did\nnot comfort Leif at all--on the contrary. This made Leif's behaviour\ntowards her rough and unintelligible. She was almost obliged to believe\nthat he was no longer as fond of her as he had been, since he at times\ncould do without her. It was only the pain in his look, even when he\nbehaved in the most capricious way, which quieted her doubts. Yet she\nwent about sometimes with such pensive eyes. There sat Leif, with a\nfeeling of emptiness like a man who must see the most precious thing he\npossesses slip out of his hand, and cannot move a finger. Leif could\nat times become so anxious about Helga that all gladness and pleasure\nin life forsook him. Often she looked at him with a questioning and\ntroubled look, and shut herself within herself.\n\nThe summer after Leif had completed seventeen and Ingolf nineteen\nwinters, Atle's sons for the first time went on a Viking expedition.\nThat summer was the worst Leif had ever experienced. The want of\noccupation, and the complete absence of all events, became doubly\nintolerable now that he knew that other young men, who were not much\nmore than his own equals in age, were sailing out on the wide ways\nof the sea, making the acquaintance of foreign people and lands,\ntrafficking or fighting with those whom they encountered wherever they\nwent, and, in any case, having new experiences every day and every hour\nof the day. These thoughts were so painful that Leif at times became\nquite poorly and depressed when they attacked him.\n\nThat summer there arose besides in his distracted and uneasy mind a\nbesetting idea, which, when it had once taken root, was not to be\nshaken off. Suppose Holmsten should be killed that summer, how would\nHelga receive the news when she heard it? He could sit silent and\nwatch her for hours at a time in order to discover an answer to this\nquestion. Sometimes he introduced the Viking expedition of Atle's sons\nas a topic of conversation before her. She did not seem specially\ninterested in it, but talked willingly, though without great interest,\nabout it. These conversations gave Leif a strong impression of woman's\nfalsity!\n\nAt last there came a day when he could hold out no longer, threw away\nall shame, and went to Helga and told her that news had come from\nAtle's sons that Holmsten had fallen. Helga sat for a while pensive\nand serious. \"So we shall never see him more,\" she said, with a slight\ntremor in her voice. \"I cannot really imagine Atle's sons without\nthinking of them all three together--so I remember them the first time\nI saw them, so one always saw them. His brothers will be very grieved\nat losing him.\"\n\nLeif listened breathlessly, but her words and tone made him no wiser.\n\"Was it Haersten--or Haasten?\" he thought. \"I should have told her\nthat all three had fallen.\"\n\nUtterly discomfited by this frustration of his attempt at surprise,\nhe gave it up altogether. Now he was reckless. \"That is not true,\" he\nconfessed wearily. \"There has come no news from Atle's sons.\"\n\nHelga became quite silent from surprise. Her astonished look rested\nalmost anxiously upon him. \"How can you take it into your head to say\nsuch things?\"\n\nLeif looked maliciously and despairingly at her. \"It is still too early\nto weep for Holmsten,\" he said coldly and scornfully. Then he rose\nsuddenly and went. As he stepped out of the door, a burst of cheerful,\nrippling laughter broke out behind him. \"Why does she laugh?\" he\nthought, anxious and angry at the same time, but did not turn round to\nexamine her face. The rest of the day he kept puzzling about her laugh.\nDid she laugh because it was not true that Holmsten had fallen, or did\nshe only laugh at him, because she had discovered that he was jealous\nof Holmsten? For the rest it seemed to Leif that neither was a laughing\nmatter. So morbid had he gradually become that all laughter seemed to\nhim suspicious and unbecoming. It took Helga several days to eradicate\nthe effects of her laughter from Leif's mind. Even kisses and embraces\nseemed ineffectual. He suffered from his peculiar obstinate temper,\ninsisting that he had been insulted, but unable to overcome it. It\nrequired a severe effort before he could bring himself to repay Helga's\ngentleness with the same.\n\nBut then he seemed all at once to have become quite different. It\nseemed as though the exposure he had made of himself had cured him.\nHe felt an immense relief. Now he had, at any rate, proof that Helga\nwould neither become white as snow, nor fall dead, even if she should\nhear that Holmsten had fallen. He began gradually to surmise that his\njealousy was only a cob-web of the brain.\n\nBesides this, a thought had taken possession of him which drove all\nspiteful spectres out of his mind. As early as the next summer he would\ngo on a Viking expedition himself. He would not remain here and become\nprematurely old and peevish. It was true that at summer-time he would\nstill be two years short of the regular Viking age. But Ingolf would at\nthat time be of the right age and could get his going legalized--for\nIngolf would go too, as a matter of course. They could not go about at\nhome for ever and become moss-grown without and mouldy within.\n\n\"Look at the old men!\" he broke out, when in words that stumbled over\neach other he made Helga privy to his plan. \"Must one not be sorry\nfor them? Yet they have been young once. This is what age makes of\npeople. It is better, when one is good for nothing else but boasting,\nto have something to boast of, than for want of experiences to become a\nwretched liar.\"\n\n\"Do you think that you will some day become like--like your father?\"\nasked Helga, smiling. She thought Rodmar was worse than Orn.\n\n\"Without doubt,\" answered Leif decidedly. \"I can certainly not realize\nit. But why should I become otherwise? Must they not have once been\nyoung and full of life? Now they drivel!\"\n\nHelga sat for a little while and thought. And while she thought, her\nexpression changed and became pensive and serious.\n\n\"You are so imprudent, Leif,\" she said, with anxious eyes, \"I fear you\nwill be killed in your first battle.\"\n\nLeif laughed arrogantly. \"Have you not noticed that I am invulnerable,\"\nhe outbroke, with a beaming smile, \"that nothing can injure me? There\nis something or other which protects me. I have thought about it. It\ncan only be _your_ love, Helga. What else should it be?\"\n\nHelga kissed him. She had tears in her eyes. \"If my love can protect\nyou, Leif, you _are_ invulnerable. My own friend, do whatever you will,\nonly do not quite forget me.\"\n\nLeif hurried from the place to meet Ingolf. And when he found him\nhe was so completely the old Leif, with body and soul intent upon a\ndefinite object, that, with the stream of his talk and the irresistible\nabsoluteness of his manner, he swept all ill-humour out of Ingolf's\nmind. Now that Leif had become quite himself again, Ingolf needed no\nmore to be on the watch regarding his own attitude towards him. Ingolf\nstood quite quietly, listened to him, and allowed him to talk freely,\nwithout the slightest attempt at interruption. He merely stood and\nlooked at him, and enjoyed feeling how his eagerness infected his own\nmind like a happy excitement. Ingolf felt at that moment a gladness\nwhich he had forgotten. He could have embraced his brother.\n\nWhile Leif spoke further and developed his plans, Ingolf pondered. He\nonly followed Leif's stream of talk with one ear, only to ensure that\nnothing important escaped him. Meanwhile, he subjected the project to\nindependent consideration. Perhaps it was, at any rate, over early to\njoin in a Viking expedition just now. Perhaps they ought rather to\nwait a couple of years; Leif was so young, and was still not of the\nwarrior's age. But, on the other hand, Leif needed a change just now.\nAnd he was quite self-reliant, though not of the proper age. They could\nalso train themselves in the use of weapons in the winter. If they\nwaited, Leif would again become strange and not to be understood or put\nup with. For Leif's sake they must go. How completely he was again the\nold Leif, even in his thoughts!\n\nIngolf concluded his considerations by saying: \"I will talk with my\nfather about the matter,\" in the middle of Leif's stream of words.\nThen Leif became uncontrollable for a while. He seized hold of Ingolf\nand whirled him round. He knew that with this sentence the matter was\ndecided. But it seemed to him when, out of breath he let his laughing\nbrother go, that he absolutely must say something about Orn.\n\n\"The old blusterer!\" he snorted contemptuously. \"To think that we\nshould guide ourselves by _his_ opinion. Well, do as you like. Only\nforget not to say that we shall bring wine home for him--much wine.\nThen you will see how tractable he will become. I will promise my\nfather the same, in order to make him willing to give up the keys of\nthe weapon-chest.\"\n\nIngolf went to his father, put the matter in a few words before him,\nasked him for ships and merchandize, and first and foremost for his\nconsent to their making an expedition the next summer.\n\nWhile Ingolf talked, Orn sat with a dull look and an unwilling\nexpression in his face, as if it was with difficulty that he heard\nhim to the end. \"Ships and merchandize are your own,\" he answered\npeevishly, when Ingolf was silent. \"You can do with both what you will,\nand it would not surprise me if you returned home empty-handed. Leif\nwill still prove a costly brother to you. He will be captured, and\nyou will have to pay the ransom. Keep a good watch on the ships, and\ndon't let yourself be cheated in trafficking. When they offer you one\ncask of wine for a bear's skin, you should ask three, then you will\nget two. For the rest, you can go anywhere in the world as far as I\nam concerned, if only you do not disgrace your father. Go! No, wait a\nlittle. If Atle's sons go again on an expedition in the summer, show\nthat you have a little intelligence, and go with them. Then you will\nbe five together, and can better hold your own where you go. But if\nyou return home without a good stock of red wine from the land of the\nFranks, I will never see you before my eyes, or hear so much as the\nsound of your voice. Go!\"\n\nLeif also talked with his father. He was extravagant in his description\nof the matter, and lavish in promises. He simply told his father that\nnow in Ireland and the British Isles grape-wine from all the lands of\nthe earth could be bought. When the old Rodmar, made young again by the\nthought of earth's flowing glories, began to talk of travelling with\nthem, Leif changed his tone, and pictured the dangers and fatigues of\nthe journey in vivid colours. Then Rodmar shrivelled into himself again\nand gave up the thought of travelling.\n\nBut Leif got the keys of the weapon-chest, and for the first time\nobtained his father's blessing.\n\nIngolf told Leif that his father had proposed that they should join\nwith Atle's sons in the expedition. At first Leif was a little annoyed,\nbut his joy was so great that everything else became of secondary\nimportance in comparison with the prospect that he was going out--out\non long journeys in the wide world. He saw at once the reasonableness\nof the proposed arrangement. They gained in strength by joining with\nAtle's sons, and would be invincible. Besides, there would be more\nships, and the expedition would be a grander thing all round. And there\nwas, moreover, something enticing in the idea of being with Atle's sons\nand witnessing what good and evil befell them.\n\nPerhaps he would have the experience of seeing one or more of them fall\nby the enemy's hand. That would be an experience worth bringing home.\nWhen he had got so far in his considerations, he gave Ingolf's proposal\nhis unconditional approval.\n\nThere was much joy in Orn's house. The old men were enlivened, their\nstories became more cheerful, and they were not quite so peevish as\nbefore. They already anticipated beforehand in their thoughts how the\nbarrels of red wine from the land of the Franks would be trundled up\nto the house from the landing-place. They knew how a barrel of wine\nshould be handled from the moment the bung was drawn out till it stood\nempty. They already became fastidious and difficult to please with\ntheir thoughts of the red wine.\n\nFrom that time they drank only mead. All other beer tasted sour,\nthey said, and wrinkled their noses. One day Orn summoned Ingolf and\nreminded him in an imperious tone of honey: \"From henceforth only mead\nwill be brewed here in the house. Go!\"\n\nIngolf smiled to himself when he came out from his father. When no one\nsaw it, he permitted himself now and then a smile. Ingolf and Leif had\ntheir ships examined, and made other preparations.\n\nLeif spent most days down below at the boat-houses. He was\nindefatigable, and showed a reflectiveness and care in his preparations\nwhich both surprised and rejoiced Ingolf.\n\nThey were to equip three ships, so there was much to do in taking goods\non board and arranging them, especially as the ships had not been\nused for many years, and had therefore to be made taut, tarred and\nthoroughly overhauled.\n\nIngolf and Leif divided the work: Leif looked after the ships and their\nequipment, while Ingolf managed the properties of both, and arranged\nfor obtaining by exchange goods for the expedition.\n\nLeif was indefatigable. Neither the autumn's clammy rain nor the\nwinter's keen frost and furious snow-storms overcame his energy. The\nwhole day long, and sometimes far into the night, he was at the\nwater-side. Helga had to seek him there so that he should not be quite\napart from her. She was glad to see him so happy and absorbed. She was\nvery warm-hearted, and when he could spare her some time, it was as\nthough he gave her a treasure. When he thus for a time had forgotten\nhis work, Helga's exuberant feeling, mingled with the desire to see\nLeif at work, made her occasionally remind him that he forgot the time.\nThe energy with which he set to work again could be a song of secret\ngladness in Helga's heart for the rest of the day.\n\nThat winter it was Ingolf and Leif's turn to visit Atle's sons. Already\nduring their first day at Gaulum, Ingolf brought up the subject which\nwas to him at the moment of greatest importance. Turning to Haasten, he\ntold the brothers that he and Leif had resolved to go on an expedition\nin the summer, and proposed to join them under Haasten's leadership,\nprovided the brothers also had determined on a cruise.\n\nAtle's sons had had a prosperous summer and were going out again.\nHaasten considered it self-evident that they should go in company. He\nasked his brothers' opinion. Haersten agreed with him. \"Leif is two\nwinters short of the regular Viking-age,\" answered Holmsten, with so\nlittle reflection that he hardly knew he had said it, before the words\nwere out of his mouth.\n\nLeif coloured. And as was always the case when he became angry, he\ninvoluntarily straightened himself. \"Let us see if I stand back in any\nmatter, when occasion arises,\" he answered, keeping calm successfully.\n\"If not, is there any reason for setting me aside on account of my\nyouth?\" Ingolf stood pale and resolute. \"Leif and I go together,\" he\nsaid slowly. \"I did not think this objection possible, or I would not\nhave brought forward any proposal for fellowship. Yet we all know how\ncommon it is that the elder lawfully take the younger. Now, let us\ntalk no more about it. We brothers are men enough to make our way for\nourselves.\"\n\n\"I for my part am willing to go in fellowship with you both,\" answered\nHolmsten quietly and undisturbed, \"and willing to take Leif. I only\nmeant by what I said to draw attention to the fact that he is not of\nthe legal age.\"\n\n\"Then your words were incautious and liable to be misunderstood,\" said\nHaasten reprovingly, in a severe tone which he seldom used towards his\nbrothers. Then turning to Ingolf he continued: \"We brothers offer you\nour fellowship, and beg you earnestly not to decline our offer. We have\nbeen friends since we were boys. We belong together on sea and on land.\nI will answer for it that we brothers keep our agreement to the last\ndrop of our blood and the last farthing in our possession.\"\n\nThus they agreed to sail together on a Viking expedition under the\nleadership of Haasten as the eldest. The place and time of their\nmeeting would be further discussed with Ingolf at the time of the\nspring sacrifice.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nOne sunny day in the fresh early summer, when airy white clouds were\npassing across the bright blue sky and a cheerful breeze was blowing\nover the dark blue sea, Ingolf and Leif sailed with their six ships\nfrom Dalsfjord to meet Atle's sons at Hisargavl.\n\nBusy days had preceded their departure. Ingolf had in the course of\nthe year collected a quantity of goods. They had to be divided among\nthe ships, put on board, stowed away, and secured carefully. There\nwere dried fish in quantities--some which they had caught themselves,\nand some bought from Lofoten. There were dried skins. There were large\nbales of wool. There was also a quantity of furs, obtained from inland\nby commerce with the Finns; light wares, minever, and other varieties\nof skins. When the goods had been stowed together amidships, the whole\nheap was covered with skins for protection against rain and sea, and\nwell secured besides by long ropes and straps of hide.\n\nThe two largest of Ingolf's and Leif's six ships were dragon-ships.\nEach had five-and-thirty oars on board, in all, seventy oar-holes, and\nwere remarkable warships. Splendidly carved dragon-heads, which could\nbe taken off and put on at pleasure, towered high over the sharp prows,\nshowing their teeth in war-like fashion and with tongues stretched out\ncontemptuously against sea and sky, storms and enemies. The stern of\nthe ship formed the dragon's tail, was artistically carved, and was, as\nwell as the gunwale, adorned with ingenious intertwined devices.\n\nThe other ships were smaller. Two of them had thirty oars on board, the\nothers five-and-twenty. They were also ornamented with animals' heads\non the bows, and devices along the gunwale and stern, although not so\nsplendidly as the leading ships.\n\nIngolf and Leif stood each on the poop of his dragon-ship when the\nlittle fleet rowed out from the landing-place by Orn's house. On\nthe higher ground were gathered all those who were to remain behind\nat home. While the ships were still near the land, loud shouts of\nfarewell were exchanged between those who stayed behind and those who\nwere departing. But very soon the long, slender ships with their rows\nof oars crept out of hearing. They could then only make signs to one\nanother.\n\nAll this fuss about departure annoyed Ingolf. As soon as they were\nin somewhat open water, he had the striped, four-sided, square sail\nhoisted. There was only one sail to each ship, but this one could be\nturned round the mast and managed with great ease and skill.\n\nWhile they were still near land Leif often turned and looked back.\nHe only saw one among the figures of those left behind--a girl whose\nfair hair floated in the breeze. She stood so still. Every time he saw\nher, his eyes filled with tears, which blotted her from his view. He\ndid his best to refrain from weeping, but was on the verge of tears.\nFor the moment the expedition lost all its attraction for him. He felt\nsuddenly that wherever Helga was not, there was only triviality and\ntediousness. If he could have done so honourably he would have turned\nback. He felt the separation so acutely that he was neither aware of\nthe blue sea nor the sunny day. He could not understand why he had not\nbefore considered how impossible it really was to be parted from Helga\nfor a whole summer. He suffered, moreover, from a painful consciousness\nthat in his joyful absorption in the prospect of going on an expedition\nhe had not thought of her at all. He hoped that she would not feel the\nseparation so severely as he did, but immediately retraced the wish.\nFor there was a certain consolation in being missed. His distress and\ninner confusion were great. Rapid oars were rowing away from Helga\nand home, which had always made brightness in his soul, and had now\nincreased indescribably in value and attractiveness--rapid oars were\nrowing him away, and he had to let it be so. He was also obliged, in\norder not to let himself fall behind, to pull himself together and,\nfollowing Ingolf's example, give command to hoist the sail.\n\nThe striped sail bellied out joyfully before the breeze. The heavily\nloaded ships pitched moderately. The water foamed around their bows\nand splashed against their sides. It was a voyage of the kind which\nmakes a man feel peaceful and comfortable. The sting of grief in Leif's\nconsciousness was dulled. His bereavement was mollified by the joy\nof journeying. The fjord opened out, and angry-looking waves spoke\nseriously with the ships, though always in the most friendly way.\nWillingly and yieldingly, if only they were able to float and advance,\nthe ships obeyed the movements of the waves.\n\nThe crews on board were very cheerful. Sailing was a pleasure. They\nraised their ringing voices in a loud song, while they looked to the\nweapons, ground their axes, fixed spear-points firm in their shafts,\nsharpened knives, and tested the strength of their bows. The oars\nlay in piles on the forks hung up for that purpose, and the wind was\nfriendly enough to do the work. It was all as it should be; it was a\nhappiness to live and a joy to think that they would soon have use\nfor their weapons. Arms and legs were stretched out, and muscles were\ncarefully and critically felt. Yes, they were all right. Some had\nspecially hard and round knots of muscle to show, which were felt by\nall the bystanders, and the owners were both congratulated and secretly\nenvied. The youngest, and those who had the most copious vocabulary,\nswore by the salt water and the golden bristles of the holy boar that\nthey would neither admire nor envy. Secretly they promised themselves\nthat they would take good swigs from the train-oil barrel.\n\nThus the day passed, and it was a glorious day.\n\nBy the evening there was only a certain, not altogether uncomfortable,\ndepression remaining from the pain Leif had felt at parting from Helga.\nThe rest of it he threw off in sleep. As he saw before him coasts which\nhe did not know and had not seen before--perfectly new coasts in varied\nbeauty--his mind took its last and decisive turn. Henceforth it only\nlooked forward.\n\n\"Is that Norway, too?\" he asked, rubbing his eyes. \"And have we sailed\nthe whole night? Norway is great and beautiful! It must be splendid to\nlive here.\"\n\nHe swallowed every new view with greedy eyes. These strange coasts\naroused an intense desire to live in him. Here life was lived and many\nthings happened--many things which one had no idea of.\n\nThe sworn brothers met Atle's sons, who also had each three ships,\nat Hisargavl, as they had agreed. And carried by a breeze, which had\nincreased to what Vikings would call a good wind, the fifteen ships\nsteered westward over the sea. They intended to go to the British\nIsles and greet the chiefs there. The ships glided smoothly over the\nwater, keeping together as much as possible. Acquaintances were made\nbetween the ships, accompanied by mutual promises of beer and wine. The\nnew friends swore to drink each other's healths in horns as soon as\nopportunity offered. There was much merriment on board. Here young and\nold felt in high spirits. On the sea they were at home, as everywhere\nwhere there was a prospect of adventure and the clash of weapons. And\nas the wind increased in strength their spirits rose.\n\nWhen, next day, there came a storm, their expressions of joy were\nnot quite so boisterous and demonstrative; now each had something to\nlook after with his oar or scoop, but the air on board was full of\ncourage and contentment with events as they might arrange themselves.\nA demand was made on their strength, and that was not bad, since they\nhad it. They would show the old storm-god, Aegir, that they too would\ngladly have a brush with him. \"Come on, Aegir's daughters, whose kiss\nis wet and salt and in its way burning! Come on, you white-tufted,\nseaweed-adorned young maidens! The Vikings will not shrink from any\nembrace, not even when willingly offered. Even Valkyries and Aegir's\ndaughters they will embrace with joy. Come on! You will see our\nfellow's strength!\" Thus they sang and boasted. This voyage made the\nold feel young in soul again and matured the young. Gliding along with\noar and scoop, they chewed their dry fish. They had a long time to wait\nfor any real sleep and rest. In the light nights a healthy man sleeps\nonly like the birds. If he is on a sea voyage, he closes one eye, takes\nwhat rest he can get amid the waters, and enjoys the night air. For\nthe rest, he chews his dried fish and is content. One must take the\nwind and water as it chances. If neither sun nor stars are visible,\none sails by instinct, which is easy. Odin the All-Father has had his\nofferings, and Njord also is at hand. Perhaps the gods guide when the\nstars fail. And, anyhow, the Norns have not lost them from sight. They\nreceived what was due to them, and that was as it should be.\n\nAfter some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the\nVikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some\nbare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite\ncomfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white\nfoam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke\nin mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. \"It must be splendid to\nlive here,\" thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing\nin his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail\nfarther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleak\nand bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there\nwere the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the\nnames before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the\nHjaltland Islands--here they lay.\n\nIngolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with\ninterest. He said: \"They are desert islands; what good is there\nin them?\" \"They are easy to defend,\" an old sea-dog answered him.\nImmediately the islands gained in Ingolf's estimation, but he did not\nwant to live there.\n\nThey sailed farther, and came to other islands, equally bleak and\nbare--islands with small, narrow valleys, and here and there a crooked,\nworn, storm-hardened fir. Those who had not voyaged before, learned\nthat these were the South Islands. They lay here in the midst of\nthe sea, exposed to everlasting storms, roared around by unwearied\nbillows, veiled in rain and fog. \"Here the sun seldom shines,\" one of\nLeif's company informed him, \"and certainly never for a whole day.\"\nLeif thought that it was a strange and melancholy country. There was\nsomething in his mind which responded to these islands. He would gladly\nlive here.\n\nThey sailed on, and found blue sky and sunshine on the sea.\n\nAt last they approached the shore of England. When Ingolf and Leif saw\nit, each remained standing on his poop dumb with delight, and a song\narose in both their souls. This was certainly a rich and glorious land!\nSuch fertility they had never thought possible on earth. Did the vine\ngrow here? Leif asked his fellow-countryman, with quiet awe in his\nvoice. The old greybeard answered him, and said that as far as he knew,\nwhen he reflected, the vine did not grow in a land so far north. \"This\nland's fertility and wealth is certainly great, but nothing compared to\nthat of the land of the Franks,\" he concluded. Leif willingly believed\nhim, but did not understand. Here it must be good to live. In spite of\nall bedizened wooden gods, here he would dwell. \"Or let me first see\nmany lands,\" he added at once with a ravenous, hungry consciousness\nof not being able to live everywhere. \"Ah! The glorious lands of this\nearth--there a life is lived which one has no part in!\" he thought to\nhimself, and felt empty in soul.\n\nHaasten had the peace flag hoisted, and they sailed towards the land.\nThis would be a good place to trade in. They anchored their ships in\na little bay among wood-covered hills and heights. A crowd of armed\nmen had already gathered on the place on the shore where they were\npreparing to land, and stood gazing towards the ships. There was\nevidently a great deal to find out on both sides. Yet they seemed, in\nspite of their weapons, quite peaceful, and in consequence they also\nhoisted the trade flag.\n\nThe ships arranged themselves side by side, according to Haasten's\ndirections, the first so near to the land that it could be made fast by\na rope to a rock on the shore.\n\nMen with long hooks stood at the ship's sterns and kept them\nstationary, till the anchor-stones fell in their proper places, and it\nwas clear that the ships were secured. Then a long, slender plank with\nsteps cut in it was pushed towards the land. By it Atle's sons and the\ntwo sworn brothers with them went ashore.\n\nThe chiefs of the district inquired of them in courteous language what\nthey had to sell. Haasten told them, and asked them in turn what wares\ncould be bought here. When all information had been given it was clear\nthat both parties wished to trade, and they quickly resolved on a two\nweeks' peace for that purpose.\n\nWhen the peace was made, and hostages given on both sides, serfs\ndragged cauldrons and iron stands on shore. Other serfs were sent to\ncollect fuel. How good it would be to taste hot food again! On board\nthe ships no fire could be made; there one lived on dried fish, dried\nand smoked meat, and bread which gradually became a trial to their\nteeth. That was luxurious fare on board, and tasted well in hungry\nmouths. On land it was another story; there they liked to sit round a\nsmoking pot. The first thing they bought was an ox. Therewith _that_\nday was finished.\n\nLeif was very restless; he had to go out and look round the\nneighbourhood. He chose a number of his best men, obtained leave to\nkill game, and gave himself up to roaming about the woods, not so much\nto hunt as to see. He feasted his eyes on the mighty forests and the\nbeauty of the calm lakes. He drank in joyfully the foreign air, and let\nhis mind be charmed by the contours of the foreign landscape.\n\nBut the unrest in his blood would not be quieted. The wonderful\nperfume from all the growths of the earth, the sight of the luxurious\noverarching fruit-trees in blossom, the fragrant scent of the meadows,\nand the profusion everywhere of brightly coloured flowers--all these\ncombined to intoxicate him. Besides, he obtained wine, which he had\nnever tasted before, and was transported in gladness and forgetfulness.\nHe also looked with restless curiosity in the bright, promising eyes of\nmany delightful young women--eyes which tempted like ripe fruit.\n\nWhen a week had passed in this way, Ingolf spoke to him in a friendly\nand smiling fashion, and reminded him that he was forgetting to trade.\nLeif was a little embarrassed by his smile, and suddenly became very\nbusy. It was true he had completely forgotten to trade. He went to the\nmarket and looked at the wares. And when he saw there a quantity of\nsilk goods and richly elaborated ornaments of gold, silver, and gilded\nbronze, he remembered Helga, gave himself up to trade, and forgot to\nchaffer about the things. He bought many ornaments. As soon as he had\nbought one, he fell in love with another. He bought precious stones,\ncostly clothes, and delicate silks. Then his eye fell on some artistic\ngold-embroidered stuffs he had never seen the like of, and he bought\na quantity of them. Glasswares of different kinds, goblets, vessels,\nand pearls were also a speciality; of them he had to make a copious\nselection. He enjoyed this new experience of looking at things and then\nbuying them. An article which he had never seen before, and had not\nthe faintest idea that it existed in the world, became suddenly his\nproperty, and assumed life and significance. That gave expansion to\nhis mind.\n\nIngolf kept an eye upon him, and amused himself in his quiet way at\nhis method of trading. In commerce as in everything else Leif was\nsimplicity itself, and never learnt to use his reason or to keep within\nbounds. Ingolf let him go on till he found he had gone far enough; then\nhe put the brakes on.\n\n\"Give me now rather power to trade with your wares,\" he proposed to\nhim. \"You are no good at trade; you only buy the most unnecessary\nthings, and let yourself be cheated into the bargain. In the winter you\ncannot satisfy your hunger with clothes or allay your thirst with empty\nglass goblets.\" Leif saw that he was right, and willingly granted him\nthe desired authority. He had bought many things, and felt like a king.\nAlready he pictured to himself his homecoming. First he would give\nHelga a single article such as he did not possess many of. She would\nkiss him, and her face would be tinged with a delicate red, as was the\ncase when she was happy or emotionally stirred. Then he would come with\nanother thing and still another, till Helga stood speechless with her\neyes full of tears. Then he would draw her to himself....\n\nIt seemed to him a very long, dreary summer he was approaching. As he\nwas in the act of leaving the market his eye fell on an ornament with\ncarved figures of gilt bone. He felt he must have it, even if it cost\nthree bearskins. Ingolf intervened in the matter, and Leif obtained the\nornament for one bearskin. So he was at length satisfied and gave up\nall further trading. Then he roamed round again in the woods with his\nlittle following, or simply lay and dozed, and let longing and delight\npass like swift breezes through his mind. \"Ah, England,\" he thought,\n\"your land is fertile and your women are beautiful.\"\n\nHe wished gradually that he could live and be married in all the lands\nof the earth--preferably all at once. He dreamt much of women at that\ntime. He imbibed their various charms with much appreciation. But\nsometimes his longing for Helga drove all others out of his mind. Helga\nsat at home and was faithful to him, and awaited him with longing.\nHow did the days pass with her? His heart began to beat heavily and\nwith a feeling of guilt regarding her. She possessed him once for all.\nShe was his. Yes, she was like the year, and the other women were\nlike days--the fleeting days. He compared in his thoughts all the\ndifferent women, who had made an impression on him, with Helga. One by\none they faded and disappeared as he remembered Helga, who was his.\nThey disappeared--yes! But it is to be observed that this lasted only\ntill he saw them again, when they again kindled his restlessness and\nmanifold longing.\n\nThe day came when the trade-truce was over. Haasten did not think there\nwas any reason to prolong it, and consulted Ingolf on the subject.\nIngolf answered that they had bought what they wanted, and agreed with\nhim. So the hostages were returned on both sides with many precautions,\nand the Viking-ships, disburdened of their cargoes, rowed out of the\nbay and hoisted sail. But they only sailed away for appearance' sake.\nBy night they ran into another bay. They had a great desire to get some\nspoil along the fertile coast. But they did not return unexpected. The\nchief of the district, foreseeing this possibility, had collected all\nhis people, and now stood ready to meet them on the shore. Haasten\nthought it safer not to attempt a landing where so many opposed them,\nand ordered the ships to row out of the bay again.\n\nThe old Vikings grumbled, his brothers were silent, and Leif foamed\nwith rage. But Haasten did not care at all. He remained lying outside\nthe bay for two days and nights. The weather was calm, and not suitable\nfor sailing. He held the chief and his people bound to the spot. Then\nwhat he expected happened. A powerful wind made it possible to set sail\nat once, to run down along the coast quicker than the people on shore\ncould follow, to anchor up the mouth of a river, and to have the crews\ndrawn up on land in battle-array before the main force of the people of\nthe district could get there.\n\nHaasten had only allowed a few men to remain on board, but his force\nwas far inferior in numbers to that of the defenders. The fight took\nplace in a flat meadow along the river. Haasten quickly saw that he had\nundertaken more than he could manage. These native troops had obviously\nencountered the Vikings before. Haasten quickly gave his people orders\nto take refuge on board; he did not wish to run the risk of losing men\nso early in the summer.\n\nLeif and Holmsten happened to be near one another in the fight. Each\nquickly discovered how bravely and boldly the other fought, and that\nfact, together with the circumstance that they here stood side by side\nin a battle for life and death, drew them nearer to each other, and\nbanished for a while all hate towards Holmsten out of Leif's mind. They\nwere vexed at the order to go on board with their task unperformed, but\nobeyed.\n\nWhen they were safe, Holmsten said: \"Listen, Leif; let us take a pair\nof the smallest and swiftest ships, and make a trip on our own account\nalong the coast.\"\n\nLeif immediately agreed. Haasten bade them do as they liked, but to be\ncareful not to be too long away. But Ingolf gave his vote against the\nexpedition.\n\n\"Let the boys amuse themselves a little,\" Haasten said, with a smile.\n\"It will do them good. They fight smartly by themselves. And we will\ngive them some good men.\" Since Haasten promised that the other ships\nshould follow them as soon as a great part of the enemy's forces had\ndispersed in order to follow the two game-cocks' movements, Ingolf\nyielded, although with reluctance.\n\nWhen the chiefs on shore saw two small ships separate themselves from\nthe fleet and sail away, they believed that it was a stratagem, and\ndispatched only a small force from the place to keep an eye on them.\nHaasten had reckoned on this, and now Ingolf's anxiety was partly\nquieted.\n\nLeif and Holmsten sailed up along the coast, and succeeded in landing.\nBut they had no experience in drawing up men for battle, and when\nthe land forces sent to watch them suddenly attacked, there was no\norder among their men. There followed a confused struggle which soon\ndeveloped into a number of single combats, man against man. Leif was\nopposed by an older fighter than himself, who did not leave or afford\nhim the least opening for an attack. He had enough to do to ward off\nhis rapid and heavy blows with shield and sword. Leif already thought\nthat that day would be his last under the sun; he felt a paralysing\nfear stealing slowly over him and robbing him of strength. He noticed\nthat he had become wet down to his legs, which had begun to shake\nviolently, and shame and fear concentrated themselves to a wild frenzy\nin his soul. He suddenly saw red. If he were to fall, his opponent\nshould at any rate carry away marks of the battle. He flung away sword\nand shield, and took hold of his battle-ax. How he killed the other\nhe never understood, but at last he had him stretched flat on the\nground. He picked up his sword and shield, completely out of breath,\nand shaking in his whole body, and looked around for a new opponent.\nNot far away the leader of the land-force was exchanging powerful blows\nwith Holmsten. Holmsten had had his shield hewn in pieces, but there\nseemed to be something the matter with his opponent's sword. When\nLeif had stood for a moment looking on, his eye fell on a man who was\napproaching Holmsten from behind with uplifted ax. It was impossible\nfor Leif to get near in time, but purely instinctively he grasped his\nspear, and as instinctively hesitated a moment before throwing it.\nHolmsten's head cloven by an ax was what he in his heart longed to see.\nBut it was as impossible to let it happen as it was desirable. It\nmust not happen! The spear whistled through the air, and a man with\nlifted ax fell over on his face just behind Holmsten's back. Holmsten's\nopponent had become aware that something was happening, and became\nfor a moment off his guard. Holmsten took advantage of that moment,\ndrove his sword into his stomach, and thrust hard. The other tottered\nand fell, with the greatest astonishment in his distorted face. And\nnow that their leader had fallen, the rest of the force fled. Some of\nthem were cut down while flying. Holmsten and Leif gave themselves\nno time to draw breath. They ran towards the town, followed by their\nmen. The women and children fled in great confusion when they saw the\nVikings approaching. Some of the men wanted to go after them, and Leif\nfelt his heart thump in his breast when he saw the young women flying.\nEspecially one of them, whom he clearly recognized, and who did not\nseem to be taking very much trouble to escape, and certainly had set\nher eye upon him, attracted him. But when he heard Holmsten call the\nmen back sharply, he gave up following her. Holmsten was obviously\nstrongly excited, though outwardly quite calm.\n\n\"First work, then play!\" he commanded, in a tone which permitted no\nopposition, and the Vikings directed their course further against the\ndeserted town. Holmsten and the other sons of Atle had not bought\nanything but corn, honey, and wine. What they wanted in the shape of\narticles of luxury and clothes, they expected to get without further\nexpenditure. It was plain that there was plenty to take in the town. A\nrich booty of ornaments, silks, clothes, precious stones, and other\nsimilar things was collected in bundles and carried to the waiting\nships. When this had been seen to, Holmsten gave as many of his men as\nhe could spare leave to go on shore. Now they could go and flirt with\nthe girls if they liked. Holmsten remained on board and stowed away\nthe booty. So Leif could not manage to go on shore, though he greatly\nwanted to see what was up there in the wood.\n\nWhen sunset approached, and it began to be evening, Holmsten told Leif\nto go on shore and blow the signal with the horn for the crews to go\non board. They had collected plenty of booty, and there was nothing\nmore to wait for. Now they had been long enough on shore. Leif had from\nthe ship marked a little height which lay apart, and from which the\nhorn could be heard far around. Upon it he meant to stand and give the\nsignal. The ascent to the height was covered with low bushes. In one\nof these bushes Leif's eye fell on a girl. He looked more closely, and\nknew her again. Her eye was soft and timid, and she was very young.\nLeif forgot what he had gone for, and remained with her. He cooled\nhis hot face in the profusion of her dark hair, and lost himself.\nFirst he was taken with her extravagant wildness; then he was scared,\nand rapidly cooled off. When he left her, she wept. Leif went slowly\nfarther up the ascent. When he reached the top, he set the horn to his\nmouth and blew hard. Its tones reverberated angrily over the landscape.\nLeif was depressed in mind by disappointment and weariness. It was not\na pleasant weariness like that after a battle. He had toyed with the\nBritish girls, and dared not think of Helga. The remembrance of Helga\nwas like a wound in his soul--a wound which he dared not touch lest\nhe should tear it open. It must have time to heal, which it might by\nforgetfulness. He felt a great relief when they rowed out from the bay\nand set sail. He never wished to come here again. Up on the height a\ngirl sat and wept. In self-defence he hardened himself. Let her weep!\nWhat was it to him? He was not hers, and she had sought him herself.\n\nHolmsten and Leif were greeted with loud shouts of joy when they\nreturned to the fleet. They gave an account of the battle, showed their\nbooty, and reaped much praise. When Haasten and Ingolf heard that Leif\nhad saved Holmsten's life, they exchanged a look, and were both very\nglad. Haasten praised Leif for his prowess in battle, and it was a\ngreat honour to be praised aloud by Haasten. But it gave Leif little\npleasure now. His unstable mind had lost its balance. Now he wished\nthat he had never thrown the spear. Ingolf was not long in discovering\nthat a change had taken place in his brother. He knew Leif, and guessed\nthe reason. A long sea voyage would be the best for Leif now, he\nthought, and he induced Haasten to alter his plan and to sail first to\na place on the Irish coast which he knew lay far away. Haasten complied\nwillingly. He had been successful in trading, and had secured a rich\nbooty. Perhaps it was the most prudent course not to visit at once the\nnearest coasts. It was never certain what connections there might be\nbetween the different chiefs of the district. So they hoisted sail and\ndirected their course towards Ireland.\n\nIt was soon evident that Ingolf's insight was correct with regard to\nwhat Leif needed to restore his mind to its balance again.\n\nThey encountered a lively summer storm in the channel. That was\nbeneficial. The warmth and the fine weather had begun to make the crews\nsomewhat slack.\n\nThe sea journey ventilated Leif's mind. He again became his former\nself: a young Viking with desire for adventures of all kinds and an\ninsatiable thirst to see new lands and to exchange blows with foreign\nchiefs.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe Vikings travelled far that summer. From England they sailed to\nIreland, past the Isle of Man, whose cliff-lined coast they could only\nsalute on that journey. Later on they meant to renew and deepen their\nacquaintanceship with it.\n\nThey had successful trade with Ireland. Leif saw many new things which\nhe could not resist. Ingolf looked after the purchase of corn, honey,\nwine, wheat, and the more useful articles of metal for both of them.\n\nAtle's sons were excellent traders. At first they made considerably\nmore out of their goods than the sworn brothers. But Ingolf gave close\nattention to their proceedings, and learnt the art from them. And when\nhe had learnt all that Atle's sons could do in the matter of trade, he\ndid not remain stationary at that point. He developed himself further\non his own account. Instead of doing trade in single articles, he\nbegan to deal with considerable quantities. This brought in greater\ngains. Soon the sons of Atle had something to learn from him.\n\nThe five Viking leaders had remained on the best terms together.\nHaasten, with his self-control and sense of fairness, was distinctly\nmarked out as leader. Leif had still fits of hatred towards Holmsten\nand of ill-humour towards the other brothers, but he kept his temper\nunder restraint. And whenever they encountered foes he became, as it\nwere, at once their brother, and fought bravely on their side.\n\nHe much admired Atle's sons' skill in handling their weapons and their\ncomposure in battle. They fought as coolly and calmly as if nothing\nat all serious was intended. Only when they attacked was a certain\nexcitement apparent. An attack by one of Atle's sons meant generally a\nswift death for the opponent. They played, to be sure, but there was\nseriousness in their play. It meant nothing less than life or death.\n\nLeif was greatly taken by the immovable calm with which they let their\nweapons talk. He did not understand how they could fight and yet at the\nsame time be as it were spectators. He understood Ingolf's method of\nfighting much better.\n\nIngolf attacked at once with his full strength and remained steadily\non the offensive. His figure seemed to increase in weight. His\nblows clove shields, and his thrust penetrated where it struck. He\nnever let himself be forced into a defensive attitude, but attacked\nfiercely, though always under control. His mode of fighting was not\nso supercilious as that of Atle's sons; he gave himself more away,\nbut preserved his composure. This quietness and assurance of Ingolf\nand Atle's sons remained a riddle for Leif. For him, composure in\nbattle would have meant simply death. He handled his weapons very\nawkwardly till he began to see red. From that moment he became so sure\nin his use of them that it was a pleasure to watch him. But he fought\nunconsciously, and did not know what had happened before his opponent\nlay prone. Then for the first time he took breath and collected\nhimself. It was fine to see him, when he let himself go, tall and\ndisorderly, crouching in the indomitable display of his strength. It\nseemed easy to take his life, and as if his enemy had it in his hand.\nLeif did not care how many openings he gave his opponent. But it was\nnot easy to take advantage of these openings, for he never remained\nlong in one place. He danced round his enemy, confused him with his\napparent want of plan in attack, and pierced or slashed him before he\nwas aware. Haasten enjoyed watching Leif fight. He insisted that Leif\nwas invincible, for he was so thoroughly absorbed in the battle that\neven a superior opponent must give way before his waspish attack. \"Leif\ncould only be killed by accident--only a mistletoe branch could strike\nhim,\" Haasten said. He came to be quite fond of Leif.\n\nThe Viking expedition sailed farther along the coasts of Ireland,\nand Leif was fascinated with the remarkable country he found there.\nIreland, that unquiet, ever-changing land, appealed in a peculiarly\nintimate degree to his heart. Every time that he thought he knew it,\nhe discovered that he did not. He was continually coming across\nsomething new. Wild, stony tracts were suddenly succeeded by fertile\nplains. Desert heaths, dark woods, narrow valleys with black rivers at\nthe bottom, friendly coasts, rugged lines of cliff, peaceful towering\nmountains, placid lakes, roaring rivers--all these Ireland had. Most\nwonderful of all, perhaps, were the abruptly changing lights. Ireland\nhad its own sky, full of whims like itself, rapidly changing from lofty\npure blue depths to a watery layer of clouds over the land. There\nmight be a blazing festival of sunshine over the landscape, and the\nnext moment it was over-shadowed by heavy masses of cloud. A tract of\ncountry which had been like a brilliant smile was suddenly completely\nchanged, and became dark and threatening, filled with a special sense\nof discomfort, deep and unescapable as a dream. Ireland played with\none's heart, filled it with joy, to oppress it the next moment with\nfear and foreboding.\n\nAnd Ireland's people were like Ireland's land and light. They were wild\nmen whose soul was a mixture of gentle dreaminess and fierce rage.\nPeople who devoted themselves to fighting with their whole soul and did\nnot know how to give or expect quarter. Their polite friendliness, nay,\neven brotherliness, in peaceful intercourse stood in glaring contrast\nto the savagery in battle and their cruelty towards fallen or captive\nenemies. They could amuse themselves by opening a man's stomach and\nletting him wind the entrails out of his body by leading him round\na tree. They counted that a delightful amusement, and their gaiety\nwas enhanced if the captive groaned. They were a nation of singular\nenthusiasts, bards and warriors, swarthy or red-haired, and alternately\nirascible or quiet.\n\nNever in his life had Leif seen so many remarkably beautiful women as\nhe did here. There were women with rich red hair, soft gleaming skins,\nquiet and inviting beings. They aroused his longing. There were also\ndark women, who were in themselves not less taking. Their pale skins\nand dark eyes filled Leif's dreams. There were other dark women with\ngolden skin, pliant and slender. There was abundance of women of all\ncomplexions, and nearly all were beautiful.\n\nThe Vikings were enthusiastic about them, but their enthusiasm was\nmoderated by the fact that the women carried daggers hidden in their\nclothes, so that now and then there was only a step between love and\ndeath. Generally speaking, the Vikings were not unpopular among the\nIrish women. And not seldom an originally loose connection between a\nNorwegian chief and an Irish girl developed into marriage.\n\nBesides these people, the Vikings in Ireland came across another type\nstill more savage in manners and shape, with tattooed bodies. It was a\nmatter for astonishment to see the contrast between the land and the\npeople. The sworn brothers and Atle's sons traded and ravaged far and\nwide in Ireland and the British Isles that summer. On the whole, they\nhad had good luck, made good trade, taken much booty, and only lost\nfew men. The last was especially due to Haasten's wise moderation and\nalways vigilant foresight.\n\nHaasten had often since employed the stratagem, which had succeeded so\nwell the first time, of sending Leif and Holmsten out on a foray with\ntwo of the smallest ships, while the rest of the fleet detained the\nland defenders at another spot. Holmsten and Leif both equally enjoyed\nthese excursions. And as they always took the best men with them, their\nexpeditions generally succeeded, and brought in rich booty.\n\nOnce, however, it had nearly gone hard with them. A Swedish\nViking-fleet consisting of five well-manned ships came across them\nas they were rowing out of a bay, where their ships had lain while\nthey made a foray on shore. The Swedes inspected them a little, and\nthought that they could make use both of the ships and of what might\nbe found on board. So they hoisted their battle-flag and set after\nthem. Leif and Holmsten were obliged to accept battle with the superior\nforces of the enemy. It was impossible to escape. They cleared their\nships for the combat, determining not to surrender. But before the\nbattle had begun, the other ships came rowing round a neighbouring\npromontory. Leif and Holmsten had been longer away than usual that\ntime, and Haasten, and especially Ingolf, had at last become uneasy,\nand determined to go and look after them.\n\nWhen the Swedes saw the other ships approaching, and perceived that\nthey were many and large, they turned sharp round and rowed away as\nrapidly as possible, but the wind was slack and unreliable, and the\nSwedes were lucky to find a fog-bank, which they ran into and escaped.\nWhen this happened, the summer was already approaching its end. The\nVikings had by that time sold all that they had brought with them from\nhome, and were well provided with foreign goods of every kind. There\nwas really nothing more to wait for.\n\nThe sea began to awake gradually from its summer lethargy. It was\nplainly shown by the ships' movements that the waves were already aware\nof the approach of winter.\n\nThe ships were all heavily laden. And as they were warships they were\nnot very well adapted for voyaging in the autumn. So the Vikings sailed\nhome over the sea, the same way as they had come, under the colourless\nskies of late summer by day and the clear golden stars by night.\n\nThey had prosperous winds, and reached Norway about the time that the\nleaves were beginning to fall.\n\nLeif was full of longing for Helga during the voyage home. He counted\nthe days and could not sleep. It seemed to him suddenly that in the\ncourse of the summer she had come very close to him. Absence and\nseparation had, as it were, intimately united them. His longing,\nhowever, was considerably mingled with fear--a fear without shape or\ndistinct substance, yet none the less painful.\n\nAt Hisargavl, Atle's sons took leave of Ingolf and Leif. They thanked\neach other for the summer they had spent together, arranged to meet\nthere next summer, drank each other's health in dark wine from glass\ngoblets, and swore eternal friendship. Ingolf and Leif invited Atle's\nsons to come to the feast the first day of the month of Goi, with as\nlarge a retinue as they liked to bring, and Atle's sons promised to\ncome. Holmsten, half-intoxicated, happened to mention Helga's name,\nand Leif listened with all his ears. But for the rest he could make\nnothing out of Holmsten's confused talk, except that he now knew that\nHelga was in his thoughts.\n\nThat evening Leif threw a spear overboard. So the sworn brothers and\nAtle's sons parted, and each sailed home with the rich booty of the\nsummer.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nHelga awoke in the night and heard the sound of oars in the fjord. She\ndressed hastily and went down to the landing-place. It was full moon,\nbut the sky was covered with dark masses of clouds. Out on the dark\nsurface of the fjord the ships looked black and ghostly. A sudden fear\nmade Helga's heart tremble. The ships came rowing so silently in the\nnight. The stroke of the oars sounded so lonely in the stillness. Was\nLeif with them? She counted the ships and found they were not the full\nnumber. But she could not distinguish them clearly, and the larger\nones might overshadow the smaller. How silently they rowed! Would it\nnot be better if she went home to bed? That would be where she would\nlie if she came to know that she would no more see Leif. She would\nnever wish to get up again. The foremost ship rowed into the somewhat\nbroken moonlight on the surface of the fjord. Helga thought she could\nrecognize it. Was that not Leif's dragon? She strained her eyes till\nthey smarted, and ran down to the edge of the water. The ship over\nthere was so dark and indistinct she could make out neither colour nor\nshape. It glided nearer like a shadow. The water dripped in silvery\ndrops from the oar-blades.\n\nA rift in the masses of clouds let the moon's pale light illumine the\nshore. Helga stood in it thinking intently. Was Leif with them? That\nwould be an almost incomprehensible happiness. And even if he were,\nstill there would come a day when his ship would return without him, or\nhis people would come some winter day carrying him on a bier, and there\nwould be blood upon the snow. A time must come when Leif would be no\nmore. Then she must die.\n\nHelga stood there bathed in the wan light of the moon, and gave herself\naway to her last breath. She embraced Leif with her soul, alive or\ndead. When the ships came quite near she stepped quickly into the\nshadow of one of the boat-houses. She would see if Leif was with them\nbefore she made a mistake.\n\nRapidly the ships approached, rowed by long oars, keeping regular time.\nYes, the foremost was Leif's dragon-ship. Majestically it glided over\nthe water, and there--yes, there on the poop stood Leif. Ah, Leif!\nLeif! Helga wept. She wept and was happy. But she quickly dried her\neyes. See how Leif had exerted himself. He wished to be the first on\nshore. She could hear the excited tone of his voice when he gave the\norder: \"Inboard!\" Leif was impatient now; his movements were abrupt\nand hasty. He urged on his crew, and his voice became sharp. He could\nnot wait--he could never wait the last moments. Leif! Leif! He did not\nguess that she stood there.\n\nHelga did not go out of the shadow and down to the ship. She saw the\ncrew working with the long boat-hooks and pushing the landing-plank\nout over the ship's side. She could just catch a glimpse of a man who\nwent down it. And then came Leif running. How like him it was. When he\nwas right opposite her, she went forward to meet him. Leif started,\nstopped, and stood. All his impetuosity ceased.\n\n\"Could you not see me?\" asked Helga, with a smile that quivered. She\nfelt so rich and happy, and came gradually nearer. Leif was not in a\ncondition to answer or to say a word at all. He stood there, and that\nwas all he could do. He could not even collect himself and kiss her.\nHelga came slowly close up to him and laid her arms quietly round his\nneck. They drank a long kiss from each other's mouths till their lips\nwere sore.\n\nLeif wished to say something, but there was a lump in his throat. When\nhe discovered that, he began to weep. Helga smiled and kissed him more\nfervently. Her fearless Viking was only a long, ungainly boy who wept.\nHe stood and embraced Helga violently but helplessly, and tears ran\ndown his freckled, weather-tanned cheeks. Helga turned gently in his\nembrace. He thought she wished to be released, and let her go. But\nHelga did not wish to be out of his arms. She only wished to turn so\nthat they might walk side by side. She did not wish that any one should\nfind them there, and led him away. She wanted to have him for herself\nnow that she had at last got him again after an endless summer. And\nLeif let her have her way; he had forgotten everything else except that\nhe had her again.\n\nThey did not talk much. Only some hasty questions and quiet, hasty\nanswers were exchanged between them. They had, as it were, no time for\nmore talk. There was silence between them--a good and happy silence.\nThey had each other.\n\nIn the house there was great excitement. Morning broke on an apparently\nhopeless confusion of men and women, who chatted together, kissed, or\nonly sent each other embarrassed and happy glances. There were also\nchildren of all ages who jumped and sang and quarrelled together in\nlittle private combats, and men who carried loads from the ships to the\nhouse, and sauntered back again in knots, talking vigourously.\n\nIngolf went quietly to and fro and saw that the work was done. The\nships had to be unloaded and the goods carried home to the house, and\nit was best to get it done soon. At this time of year the weather and\nthe sea were not to be relied upon. Ingolf felt a sense of happiness\nand confidence at being home again. He relaxed a little the strict\ndiscipline which he generally maintained in all work, and granted each\nman sufficient time for embracing friends and for confidential talk.\nBut if any one did not go to work of his own accord, when a reasonable\ntime had passed, he called him by name in a friendly way and aroused\nhim. No more was needed. The work went on vigourously. The men wanted\nit done as soon as possible. Ingolf had promised them a few days'\nholiday when the goods were in the house and the ships in the sheds.\n\nOrn came out, bent and aged, blinking with inflamed eyes in the garish\nlight of morning. He gave such an immense yawn that his shaggy jaws\ncracked and shivered, chilled by the cold autumnal air. Old age had\ncome upon him, bent his back, and gnawed the flesh from his limbs.\nWhen Ingolf saw him, he hastened to him. Now that he saw him again,\nafter not having had him daily before his eyes for several months, he\nsuddenly realized how old and decrepit his father had actually become,\nand was seized by a strong feeling of sympathy. He whispered something\nas he passed in a man's ear. The man smiled and nodded, and ran down\nto the ships. Then Ingolf hastened to his father and greeted him with\nreverence and tenderness.\n\nThe old man was always on his guard against too much friendliness. Old\nage had increased his mistrust of people. He was peevish and gruff.\nHe returned his son's greeting very nonchalantly, and began with\nnoticeable haste to question him concerning purely practical matters.\nHad he all the ships with him? How much had he allowed himself to be\ncheated? He had not, it was to be hoped, brought an Irish wife home\nwith him? How many of his men had fallen? He had probably nothing\ncreditable to report?\n\nIt seemed to Ingolf that his voice had become remarkably high-pitched\nand strident.\n\nAnd when Ingolf had answered, the old man repeated his questions time\nafter time. It suddenly occurred to Ingolf that his father could no\nlonger hear as well as before. He had to raise his voice, and he found\nit trying and embarrassing to have to change it. Orn noticed the\nchange, and shouted: \"Yes, I no longer hear so well. It is especially\nthis ear here which is affected. But it is worse with Rodmar! He is\nalive still. But he has gone blind!\" Orn laughed with a snort. \"That\nis still worse!\" His laughter filled Ingolf with discomfort. Then\nOrn suddenly stopped laughing. He had happened to cast a glance down\ntowards the ships. Now he stood, his glance became fixed, and his eyes\nwidened. Then he suddenly began to count and point at the same time\nwith a crooked finger. \"One, two, three....\"\n\nWhen he had counted up to twenty, he broke off and said to Ingolf, with\na voice trembling with joyful emotion: \"How many are there altogether?\"\nIngolf smiled. \"There are many,\" he answered, in a friendly tone. \"I\ntook care that you should not want wine, father.\"\n\nFrom the landing-place below there came a long line of men up towards\nthe house, each one trundling a barrel. As though guided by his sense\nof smell, Rodmar came at the same moment tottering out of the house,\nsupported on two sticks, and carefully feeling his way forward with his\nlegs. Orn turned towards him, and shouted in a high and excited voice:\n\"Now the barrels of red wine from the land of the Franks are coming in\na long line rolling up to the house, Cousin Rodmar!\"\n\n\"Ah, my eyes!\" answered Rodmar, in a trembling and weak voice. \"Gladly\nwould I have seen that sight. But keep silent, so that I can at any\nrate hear the wine slopping inside the barrels!\"\n\nThere was a great restlessness in Orn's blood. He took short steps,\nand could not stand still. With his crooked fingers he took hold of\nIngolf's cloak, drew him down towards him, and gave him a hasty kiss on\nhis forehead. Then he tottered on stiff legs up to Rodmar and clapped\nhim on the shoulder with a trembling hand. \"I cannot hear, and you\ncannot see, cousin. But let us thank Odin that we can both still taste.\nIsn't your tongue dry with knowing that there is so much wine close by?\nMine rolls in my mouth like birch-bark.\"\n\nIt was not long before the two aged kinsmen sat side by side in the\nhigh-seat and tasted for the first time the red wine from the land of\nthe Franks, which they had been waiting for during a whole long summer.\nThey drank the wine noisily, let it fill their mouths, and tasted it\nwith satisfaction.\n\n\"How do you like it?\" asked Orn between gulps. Rodmar gave himself\nbarely time to answer. \"It tastes good,\" he answered hastily, and\ndrank, \"but I miss seeing the colour.\"\n\n\"Splash a little in your eyes, cousin,\" Orn answered, and laughed.\n\nThere they sat, and became very cheerful later in the day. Long before\nthe sun went down they were asleep and snoring loudly. Drink had come\nto Dalsfjord.\n\nNot till towards evening did Ingolf find Leif and Helga. Ingolf\nembraced Helga, and kissed her with much tenderness. \"Are you pleased\nwith all the gifts, sister?\" he asked, with a smile.\n\nHelga looked with wide-open eyes first at him and then at Leif. Then\nshe smiled without comprehension and a little uncertainty. Leif looked\nunhappy. \"I quite forgot them,\" he stammered, blushing and embarrassed.\n\nIngolf laughed loud and heartily. But Helga threw her arms round Leif's\nneck and kissed him tenderly before the eyes of her brother.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThere was a chief and Viking named Olmod the Old, son of Horda-Kaare.\nHe was a kinsman of Leif.\n\nOlmod the Old was popular with all. He was a wise man, quiet and\ncircumspect, a warrior in battle and a hero where drinking-horns were\nemptied. No one would have guessed that Olmod the Old concealed a\ngreat restlessness under the mask of quiet and imperturbability which\nhe outwardly wore. He talked willingly, and had a flow of cheerful\nconversation, but was not lavish with his confidence. All thought that\nthey knew his mind, but no one did.\n\nOlmod the Old seldom remained long in one place. In the summer he went\non Viking expeditions; in winter he was a guest in various places. He\nhad many friends, and wherever he stayed he brought cheerfulness with\nhim.\n\nHe was very fond of his kinsman, Leif, whose character resembled his\nown. It was a significant fact about Olmod that Leif was unaware that\nhe possessed a friend in him. Leif would have been rather inclined to\nbelieve the opposite. Olmod seldom talked to him, gave him no presents,\ndid not show him favour or friendship in any degree. But in secret\nOlmod kept an eye on his kinsman, Leif, and knew all about his affairs.\n\nThat winter Olmod visited Atle Jarl at Gaulum. In doing so he fulfilled\nan old promise. He knew that Leif and Ingolf had been on a Viking\nexpedition with Atle's sons the previous summer. It had suddenly\noccurred to him that he knew Atle's sons too little.\n\nDuring his visit to Gaulum, Olmod gave such close attention to Atle's\nsons that he actually came to over-hear a conversation between Haersten\nand Holmsten which they did not intend him or any one else to hear.\n\n\"I hear that Helga and Leif are fond of each other,\" said Haersten.\n\n\"That sounds hard to believe,\" answered Holmsten.\n\n\"Women's taste is often strange,\" continued Haersten. \"Did you see,\nalso, brother, that Leif threw a spear overboard at Hisargavl?\"\n\n\"Why did you not tell me that before?\"\n\n\"Because it has only just occurred to me that Leif regretted the use he\nhad once made of that spear.\"\n\n\"With my good will I shall not give Leif reason to deprive himself of\nmany more weapons,\" said Holmsten gloomily. \"It would be rather after\nmy mind to take care that he finds full use for all his weapons.\"\n\nOlmod had heard enough. Now he knew what Leif's friends were. Shortly\nafter overhearing this conversation he departed. He directed his way\ntowards Orn's house, and was welcomed by Orn and the brothers. When he\nhad stayed a week in the house, he prepared to go farther. Before doing\nso, he talked confidentially with Ingolf.\n\n\"Don't take it ill if I mix in your affairs, Ingolf. I begin to get\nold, and old men are talkative. I only wish to remind you that Atle's\nsons, whom you and Leif have invited to the feast this winter, are\npowerful chiefs, and that it will be advisable for you to show them\nall possible honour--among other things, by inviting as many of your\nkinsfolk and friends to the feast as you can.\" Ingolf remained silent\nafter Olmod had spoken. He looked attentively at him. Olmod met his\nlook with a smile. His smile was quiet and experienced. Ingolf became\nsuddenly aware that he had more than a guest in Olmod.\n\n\"You come from Gaulum,\" he said in a low tone and thoughtfully. \"Is\nthat your advice?\"\n\n\"That is my advice,\" answered Olmod, with a firmness in his voice which\nleft no doubt as to his seriousness. And he added, as though casually:\n\"Haasten is only _one_ of Atle's sons.\"\n\n\"Have you talked with Leif on this subject?\" Ingolf asked suddenly.\n\nOlmod the Old said only: \"I know my kinsman, Leif. And I know you, too,\nIngolf.\"\n\nIngolf gave Olmod some handsome presents on his departure and escorted\nhim part of the way.\n\nOn the first day of the month of Goi, Atle's sons came with a large\nretinue to Orn's house. Ingolf had followed Olmod the Old's advice,\nand invited a large circle of his own and Leif's friends to the feast\nfor Atle's sons. When Haasten saw how many were invited to the feast,\nhe said to Ingolf, with a smile: \"We sons of Atle are not accustomed\nto receive our friends with such a great force.\" Ingolf looked at him\nand answered seriously: \"One can never show one's friends too great an\nhonour, Haasten.\"\n\nHaasten became silent and thoughtful. Involuntarily he looked at his\nbrothers. They stood there talking confidentially together. There\nwas something in their bearing which made Haasten uneasy. He noticed\nalso that Ingolf was watching his brothers. Haersten and Holmsten had\nwithdrawn themselves from the rest, and stood whispering together.\n\n\"We have never been received in such a magnificent way here before,\"\nsaid Haersten, with a smile. \"There must be something behind it.\"\n\n\"I should not be surprised,\" answered Holmsten, \"if Olmod the Old had\nbeen here. Where did he go to when he left us? It occurs to me all at\nonce that his bearing was different when he left than when he came.\"\n\n\"What can Olmod the Old have told any here?\" asked Haersten\nthoughtfully.\n\n\"Something which he possibly heard,\" replied Holmsten dryly.\n\n\"What will you do now, brother?\"\n\n\"I don't know yet. But some time Leif shall come to miss the spear\nwhich he threw overboard at Hisargavl!\"\n\nOrn became quite another man as soon as guests came to the house. He\nlivened up and became young again. He did not gulp down his wine, but\ndrank deep and was none the worse for it. He was still capable of\nfilling the high-seat with dignity and of presiding over a festival.\n\nRodmar, on the other hand, preferred to remain in bed when anything\nunusual was going on. The restlessness which the sound of many voices\nproduced in his state of blindness made him unwell. When he could not\nsit quite peacefully with Orn he liked best to be alone with his wine.\n\nOrn beckoned Haasten to a place beside him on the high-seat. Outside\nit he seated the other sons of Atle and the sworn brothers, and then\nthe remaining guests according to their age and rank. When the guests\nhad taken their seats the hall was completely filled. Orn set great\nstore by such feasts. He liked sitting as chief in his hall. He stinted\nneither food nor drink. It filled him with inward satisfaction to see\npeople eat and drink and be merry.\n\nHe became cheerful and resumed something of his old dignity.\n\nThe fire burnt pleasantly on the flat stone of the hearth. When the\nguests at last were satisfied, the bowls and wooden dishes were carried\nout, and the real drinking festival began. The youngest and handsomest\nwomen in the house went about in festal attire and poured out beer.\nAmong them was Helga. She served at the high table. Holmsten's eyes\nfollowed her wherever she went and stood. He had never shown his liking\nfor her so openly.\n\nHelga could not help noticing his persistent gaze. It made her afraid.\nShe would rather have remained away from the hall, but, on the other\nhand, she dared not leave Leif out of her sight. Leif sat with his\nmouth compressed and a gloomy expression in his eyes, and drank but\nlittle. That was not his usual way at a feast; he was accustomed to\ndrink rather too much than too little. Only seldom did Helga succeed\nin catching his eye. He did not return her smile. She went to and fro\nin great alarm. She took care never to look at Holmsten, and she did\nnot smile at him as at the others when she filled his horn.\n\nHolmsten pretended not to notice it. His eye glowed with the same\nwarmth, and his look followed her with the same persistence about the\nhall.\n\nOrn proposed the toasts to the gods. He was still equal to emptying\nhorns in their honour. When he proposed the toast of Brage, Holmsten\nrose and struck on his horn. \"It is the custom of high-born men,\" he\nsaid in a loud and cheerful voice, \"to make vows when Brage's toast\nis called. I have a vow to make which I will beg you kind friends to\nwitness.\"\n\nHolmsten stopped and looked round him. He caught a warning and slightly\nanxious look from his brother, Haasten. He saw Leif's bowed head and\ncaught a glimpse of his serious face; he saw Ingolf's face grow rigid\nwith quiet expectation. And he saw Helga standing anxious and uncertain\nand looking at Leif.\n\nHolmsten smiled. For a while he stood with his burning gaze fixed upon\nHelga, as though waiting to catch her eye. Then he lifted his horn and\nsaid in loud tones: \"I make this vow with Brage's toast, that I will\nmarry Helga, daughter of Orn, or no other woman.\" There was silence\nin the hall. Helga remained standing still for a while. She looked\nintently at Leif, and saw the blood mount to his face and his shaking\nfingers grip the foot of the horn. When she saw that he would succeed\nin controlling himself, she silently left the hall, her face very pale.\n\nHaasten had sprung up from his place when Holmsten made his vow, but\nhad sat down again without saying anything. Ingolf sat with a smile on\nhis face but a look in his blue eyes that was as sharp as a knife. Orn\nsmiled graciously at Holmsten, and Haersten laughed contentedly.\n\nAt last Leif looked up. There was a hard and hostile look in his\nusually cheerful eyes. He looked slowly round, and let his glance dwell\nfor a while on each of Atle's sons, and finally on his sworn brother,\nIngolf, as if he were considering him especially. He looked almost as\nif he would not be sorry to encounter them all at once should that be\nnecessary. To Orn he only vouchsafed a hasty and contemptuous glance.\n\nHolmsten quite understood the effect his words had produced on each of\nthose whom his speech concerned. He looked round with composure and\ncontinued cheerfully: \"Now I have begun this game. Now it is your turn,\nfriend Ingolf.\"\n\nIngolf gave no sign of rising. He turned his face towards Haasten and\nsaid in a quiet and firm voice which was heard over the whole hall: \"It\nseems to me it is now Haasten's turn to continue the game. He is our\nleader, and the wisest of us all besides.\"\n\nHaasten met his look and rose slowly. He did not find words at first,\nand remained standing silent for a while, looking down. A hush of\nexpectation spread in the hall. When Haasten at last spoke his voice\nwas quiet and troubled. \"I make the vow,\" he said, \"that I will judge\njustly and impartially, if a judgment should ever be demanded from me.\"\n\nHaasten sat down with a melancholy air after speaking. Holmsten said\ncheerfully: \"Your obscure vow does not seem to me to bear out the\nassertion that you are the wisest of us all. How will you act, if it is\nbetween your friends on one side and your enemies on the other that you\nmust pronounce judgment?\"\n\nHaasten answered in a severe and discouraging tone: \"That I intend\nmyself to determine.\"\n\nIngolf rose. He smiled no longer; his look was serious and his tone\nfirm and quiet. \"With Brage's toast I make the vow that I will not\ndivide my inheritance with any one but my sworn brother, Leif. May all\nbright gods and all good people present hear it.\" When Orn had heard\nthat vow, he rose with some difficulty. Suddenly he seemed very old.\nThe look which he cast at Ingolf was not friendly. In gloomy silence he\nleft the hall.\n\nHolmsten was still cheerful. \"I don't understand that vow,\" he said,\nand laughed.\n\n\"It is not difficult to understand,\" answered Haasten severely. \"Ingolf\nwill give his sister, Helga, to Leif, and no one else.\"\n\nHolmsten laughed incredulously, and looked at Leif in challenge.\n\nLeif rose awkwardly with a jerk, and stood erect. \"I make the vow,\" he\nsaid in a voice that shook with suppressed anger and emotion, \"to show\nthat in nothing do I stand behind my ancestors and other good men of\nmy race!\"\n\n\"That may be an easy vow to keep,\" shouted Haersten. \"Have you\nforgotten that your grandfather had to leave Telemarken like a\ncriminal?\"\n\nLeif met Ingolf's look and controlled himself. Ingolf rose slowly. He\nwas just as quiet as before, but those who knew him could see that\nnow he was angry. He directed his words to Haasten. \"When I invited\nyou, Atle's sons, to this feast, I believed that you were my own and\nmy brother Leif's sincere friends. From what has happened here this\nevening, and from the words which have fallen, I can see that I have\nmade a mistake--not as far as concerns you, Haasten, but your brothers.\nHolmsten has done us a doubtful honour. His whole behaviour does not\nshow exactly such an attitude towards us brothers that I should like to\nhave him as a brother-in-law--even if no one else were in the way. As\nregards Haersten, he has spoken insulting words against my family here\nin the hall. You, Haasten, will always be welcome in the place which\nyou now occupy as my guest and friend. But your brothers I cannot ask\nto remain. Only with my friends will I continue this feast.\"\n\nHaersten and Holmsten had sprung up from their places. Haasten also\nrose. \"I had no share in, and could not prevent, what has happened\nthis evening,\" he said quietly, and in a tone of sadness, \"otherwise\nit would not have happened. But I cannot remain here as your guest,\nIngolf, when you send my brothers away. We, Atle's sons, have always\nkept together.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken, he left the hall silently, followed by his brothers\nand all their retinue. But no one else followed them on the way.\n\nWhen they had gone, Ingolf set guards on all the roads. He wished to be\nprepared, in case any more surprises awaited him on the part of Atle's\nsons. It had become clear to him now that Haasten had no longer such\ncomplete power over his brothers as before.\n\nIngolf was depressed in spirits. That which he had long feared had\nhappened at last. But this breach with Atle's sons had come in another\nway than he had thought. He had expected that Leif would be a direct\ncause of it, not, as now appeared, an indirect one. Leif had surprised\nhim by his self-controlling bearing. Now he knew he had a brother\nin Leif he could completely rely on. Ingolf guessed that it was not\nthe first time that Leif for his sake had controlled himself in the\npresence of Atle's sons. But, on the other hand, he could not betray\nLeif. He must stand by his side anywhere, and against any one--even\nagainst Haasten, if necessary. Ingolf observed, to his wonder, that he\ndid not really miss Atle's sons, now that he was confronted by a breach\nwith them. He had Leif; he had on his side only one man. But that was a\nman he could rely upon, and knew that he could. Ingolf felt himself in\nsome degree richer than before.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nFor some days after the feast, which had been so abruptly broken off,\nOrn did not speak to any one. A cloud hung over his face. His look was\nlike that of a mad bull. He ignored Ingolf entirely; and if Ingolf\ntried to talk to him, he paid no more attention to what he said than to\na breath of wind. Even the blind Rodmar spoke in vain to his kinsman.\nTo Rodmar it seemed that the world had become very strange. Did Orn not\nhear when he spoke to him? Had he become deaf, or perhaps dumb also?\nHe gave up trying to make it out. He did not like trouble of any kind\nany more. There was always the resource of lying in bed and having wine\nbrought. Rodmar retired deeper into his darkness and drank himself into\na state of stupor and oblivion. When Orn had carried about his fit\nof wrath in solitude long enough, he began to get tired. Wrath also\ndisturbed his intoxication. He did not find the same happiness in wine\nas before. He considered the matter closely, and found a new standpoint\nto view it from--a more manly and less troublesome one.\n\nHe sent for Ingolf. \"I understand well,\" he began in a harsh but not\nunfriendly tone, \"that you do not wish to let yourself be cowed by\nAtle's sons. I have considered the matter, and I must confess that it\nwas a very challenging way that Holmsten chose in which to appear as a\nsuitor. It was, however, impossible for him to know whether Helga had\nbeen already promised in marriage, and how far his vows might cross our\nplans. I think that the answer you gave him was good, and becoming a\nchieftain. We of our race can afford to marry our children to whom we\nlike. We certainly do not need to trouble about marriage with Jarl's\nsons. It has pleased me to see that you are not afraid to give even\nsuch people as Atle's sons the rough side of your tongue. I do not\ndeny that till lately it was my idea that a marriage connection with\nthem would be an honour for our family. But now I see that it is no\nless honour for the family to refuse such a connection. That shows to\nall and each that we reckon ourselves at least equal to Jarls. You are\nwise, my boy. You may go.\"\n\nIt was a long time since Orn had spoken so gently to his son. Ingolf\nwent about the rest of the day smiling now and then to himself. He felt\na great relief. His father's attitude had pained him more than he had\nbeen willing to admit to himself.\n\nAfter his conversation with Ingolf, Orn went to Rodmar, who was very\nglad to observe that he had not become dumb or deaf. A joyous time\nrecommenced for the two kinsmen. They drank copiously of the red\nwine, and boasted more than ever. It became to them a source of much\narrogance that hostility had broken out between their sons and Atle\nJarl's. They even took Leif into favour, and willingly listened to\nhis account of his exploits in the Viking expedition of the previous\nsummer. Leif was in their eyes still a little, loose-minded fellow,\nbut at any rate a man. One could acknowledge him both as a son and a\nson-in-law. He had split various heads, and saved Holmsten's life.\nThere one had a proof that even the worst good-for-nothings could\nbecome something if only they had good folk to look up to.\n\nLeif was ungracious enough to care for their praise no more than he\nhad cared for their blame. But they behaved magnanimously to him in\nthat respect. They excused him by recollecting youth's general want of\nproper respect for age.\n\nWhen spring approached, the old uneasiness came over Leif. He became\nvery restless, and his eyes took an absent expression. One day he went\ndown to the boat-houses and began to inspect his ships. As he did so,\nit suddenly came into his mind that during the last part of the winter\nIngolf had not troubled himself at all about goods for the summer's\nViking expedition. It was not like Ingolf to forget a thing of that\nkind.\n\nWithout delay he sought Ingolf and began to speak on the subject.\nIngolf stood and looked attentively at him while he spoke. When he had\nfinished, Ingolf answered with composure: \"It seems to me, Cousin Leif,\nthat it would be better for us to remain at home in our house during\nthe summer than to sail out on a Viking expedition. Do you remember the\nvows which were made here in the winter at the feast we gave to Atle's\nsons?\"\n\n\"The vows were not of the kind to be hastily forgotten,\" answered Leif,\nand looked in his brother's eyes. \"You are, I suppose, not afraid of\nmeeting Atle's sons on the sea?\"\n\n\"I am not afraid,\" answered Ingolf, in a sharper tone; \"but I would\nrather avoid hostility with Atle's sons.\"\n\nLeif stood and looked down gloomily. When he had considered a little he\nsaid: \"Atle's sons could easily suppose that we were afraid if, after\nwhat happened here in the winter, we gave up the Viking expeditions we\nhad planned for the summer. I do not intend to give Holmsten reason to\ncall me afraid. Do you, brother, decide for yourself what you will do.\nI shall go.\"\n\nIngolf was silent and considered the matter. He was in great\nperplexity. He hardly dared to let Leif go. On the other hand, he\ndared not hinder him either. He knew well that when Leif had once got\nrestless he must get away. For himself, he did not like to run the risk\nof meeting Atle's sons. He had a presentiment that a collision was\ninevitable if their way crossed that of his brother. And in any case\nhe wished to avoid lifting hand against Haasten. But the reason which\nespecially kept him at home was, that he no longer trusted Haersten\nand Holmsten. If both he and Leif went away, they might both use the\nopportunity to carry off Helga. On such an occasion both his father\nand Rodmar might easily lose their lives, or be exposed to indignities\nwhich he would have to avenge. When Ingolf had come to a conclusion,\nhe said: \"I do not wish as matters now stand to leave our family and\nproperty without someone to look after them. I will no longer prevent\nyour going since you have set your mind upon it. But it will cause me\ngreat anxiety to know that you are out on a Viking expedition with\nonly three ships. For I cannot spare more men away from home. You may\nencounter Atle's sons, you may meet other hostile Vikings, or you may\nthrough want of foresight get involved in an unequal battle. I would\nrather, therefore, that you stayed at home, Cousin Leif. But if you\nwill promise me not under any circumstances to engage in an unequal\nbattle, as far as it is in your power to avoid it, I will not oppose\nyour going.\"\n\nLeif promised that willingly. He never thought about promises. He\ngrasped Ingolf's outstretched hand and said: \"I promise you to proceed\ncautiously. If I meet with danger or superior force, I will escape as\nwell as I can. You need not be uneasy for my sake, brother.\"\n\nIngolf remembered that Leif had kept his word with regard to Atle's\nsons. There was no longer any reason not to put full trust in Leif's\npromises, even if, in accordance with his whole character, they were\ngiven a little hastily, and apparently without thought. And if only\nLeif kept his promise, there was no special reason to be anxious about\nhim. In a battle which was not too unequal, he was safe enough, unless\nthe Norns had destined his death, or Odin had marked him out. For\nagainst the gods and goddesses of fate the best man fought in vain.\nWhen the matter had been thus decided, Leif began seriously to prepare\nfor the journey. The goods which Ingolf had collected at the beginning\nof winter completely filled three ships. All that remained was to\nselect the crews and to take care to keep the ships fit for sailing.\n\nWhen Leif told Helga that he was going, she merely nodded assentingly\nand smiled at him. But her quivering smile concealed bitter grief and\ngreat anxiety. Helga knew Leif--ah! she knew him. This Leif of hers was\na man whom no bond could hold. That was his character. And she did not\nwish to spoil his happiness by seeking to hold him fast. Never should\nhe guess what she suffered when she saw him sail away. Never would she\nmention her sense of loss and the anxiety she suffered during the time\nshe must be without him. Separation and longing were integral parts of\nthe happiness she shared with Leif. So young Helga smiled bravely and\nhelped Leif with his preparations for the journey, giving him cheerful\nwords on the way. But she never showed him her anxiety, and concealed\nher grief till she was alone.\n\nOne day in spring, when the wind blew freshly over the fjord, Leif\nsailed away with three ships. He stood on the poop and wondered that he\nhad never thought before how hard it would be to part from Helga.\n\nHis old countryman clapped him on the shoulder and said: \"On a voyage\nit is best to keep the salt water outside the ship.\"\n\nLeif smiled with a wry face. His heart had not yet been hardened. Helga\nstood on the edge of the shore and saw the striped sails bellying in\nthe breeze. The ships lay slanting on the water. They glided along as\nif in play, and became so quickly smaller.\n\nHelga stood alone on the shore. All the others who had been down to bid\nfarewell to those departing had gone back again to the house. Helga\nstood there alone with the breeze. Everything was green and cheerful\naround her. Trees stood covered with new leaves, and flowers grew again\nfrom the ground. And there sailed Leif, taking the summer away with him.\n\nWhen Helga could not see the ships any more, she at last gave up.\nHelplessly she let herself drop down on the young grass. All power had\nsuddenly left her. She could not even weep. She remained lying there\nlong with her heart beating violently.\n\nThe day after Leif had sailed, Olmod the Old landed at Orn's house. He\nhad five ships, and was on a Viking expedition. He was able to inform\nIngolf that of Atle's sons Haasten was remaining at home that summer.\nHe further said that he had heard that Leif was going alone that\nsummer, and he wished to have joined him. When he heard that Leif had\nalready sailed he hastened to go on, wishing to overtake him.\n\nThat spring came young King Harald sailing north along the coast. He\nhad made a vow not to let his hair be cut till he had reduced the whole\nof Norway to submission, and was therefore by some called Harald Luva,\nand by others Harald Haarfager. Whatever part of the country he came\nacross, he called his own. Kings and chiefs had to submit with a good\nor with a bad grace. All men from the lowest to the highest became his\ntributaries. He made laws, and appointed chiefs over districts to take\ncare that the laws were obeyed. Harald met with no opposition either in\nthe hills or the fjords. All the Jarls became his subjects.\n\nBut there were other chiefs who murmured, and considered that Harald\npaid scant respect to the law and ancient land-rights. These Harald\ndealt with hardly. He killed them when he could lay hold of them, and\ntook from them their property without mercy. Many of these chiefs had\nno other resources, if they wished to preserve their lives and freedom,\nbut to leave the country. They sailed in numbers for the Faroe Islands,\nthe Orkneys, Hjaltland, the Southern Islands, together with the British\nIsles and Ireland.\n\nKing Harald found many a Norwegian neck that preferred to be broken\nrather than bend. Although himself the most obstinate of all, he would\nnot endure obstinacy in others. There was but one King of Norway, and\nthat King's name was Harald!\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nLeif had not sailed long before a great quiet came over him. Alone with\nthe sea, and his own master! No one to obey! No one to consider! That\nwas something to his taste, and under such circumstances there was no\nroom in his heart for care and longing. Successive days awoke him, each\nwith its own voice. Hungry in soul and body he crept each morning out\nof his sleeping-bag.\n\nIt suited his plans to sail to the British Isles; accordingly he was\non his way thither. Otherwise he might have sailed to the land far\ntoward the west which a beggar had once told him of. The only objection\nwas that, according to the narrator, there were no people to trade\nwith there and no one to pillage. He was out on a trading and Viking\nexpedition. Besides, it was an absurd country, so entirely without\ninhabitants. If ever he had time and opportunity he might still wish\nto take a closer view of it. \"Iceland,\" the beggar had called it, and\nhad prophesied that he should some day see it. He wished to be certain\nabout it, but it lay so far out of the way that he could not well\ninclude it in his voyage that summer.\n\nIf he did, he ran the risk of being obliged to spend the winter there.\nAnd he could not endure the idea of a whole winter without Helga. But\nhe emphasized the fact to himself that if he now let Iceland alone, it\nwas an act of his own free will.\n\nThe land out there in the west would not run away, so whether one\nwent there a summer earlier or later was a point of minor importance.\nLeif, now voyaging alone, came to be quite intimate with the sea. He\nenjoyed standing at the helm and feeling the ship under his hand. He\nliked best sailing with all sails spread, and cutting his way through\nthe water as it foamed. It was to him a great delight to sail in such\na way that even old and experienced Vikings opened watchful eyes. He\ntortured his dragon-ship till it seemed to him the sea held its breath,\nready to close its foaming jaws round its prey. When he thus kept his\nship rocking right on the edge of destruction, clutching the quivering\ntiller fast in his thin hand, his heart felt light in his breast. He\nfelt himself like a ruler over the sea.\n\nThe old Vikings watched Leif closely, and found that they had in him\na guide after their own heart. They winked admiringly at each other\nwhen he sailed his maddest. His reckless courage filled them with\nexpectation. They showed great willingness in obeying his wishes and\norders. His young voice sounded sharply and pleasantly in their ears.\n\nThey took Leif's measure secretly and thoroughly approved of him.\nThough he was not so strong in body as warriors generally were, yet men\nwith such restless eyes were rare. And the strength he had lay in hard\nlumps of muscle in the right places. When he greeted or thanked a man\nhe clutched his hand as with an iron claw.\n\nThe Vikings found that they had reason to expect an eventful summer\nwith much amusement and many dangers. They thought without regret\nthat some of them might find their way to Odin before this Viking\nexpedition was over. They had not much objection to sitting round the\ngolden-bristled boar, though it should be this very winter.\n\nMeanwhile, Leif had formed a fixed idea that he would show Ingolf\nhe could trade and get on in foreign lands on his own account.\nAccordingly, when he got there, he showed a caution which was not\nreally according to his own mind, and which the Vikings had not\nexpected. He traded with great foresight, bought chiefly corn and\nother necessary commodities, including wine and honey. He was also, in\npursuance of his promise to Ingolf, cautious with regard to engaging in\nbattle.\n\nHis men had expected great things in the direction of depredations on\nthe coast, and were to a certain extent disappointed.\n\nLeif had comparatively few men, and he did not engage in unequal\nwarfare. In order, however, to get some booty, he practised unexpected\nattacks with quite a few picked men. With five or six followers he\nwould row ashore in a boat in out-of-the-way spots. If they succeeded\nin getting on shore unobserved they began to steal forward by remote\npaths and through deep and dark woods. These were occasions of\nincredible excitement and secret joy.\n\nIt was possible for days and nights to pass without so small a force.\nAnd when they had at last found a their finding a place adapted\nfor making an attack with place, a considerable time might pass in\nwatching for an opportunity. But when their well-prepared attack at\nlength took place, it was overwhelming and irresistible. Even old and\nexperienced Vikings had to acknowledge that they had never before taken\npart in such bold and exciting expeditions. And they loved Leif for\nthe happiness he provided them in their old age. There was constant\nemulation among Leif's men to get leave to accompany him on these\nforays. But Leif showed an immovable firmness and foresight in choosing\nhis companions. It was counted a great honour to be among those chosen.\n\nThe summer passed in sailing to and fro along the coasts of England and\nIreland.\n\nLeif diligently avoided collisions with other Vikings. There were, as a\nrule, many following him, and he never could be secure from an attack.\nIt was therefore best to exhibit suitable caution. For the rest, he\nslept peacefully in his bearskin bag at night. Should it happen that\nhe was involved in a fight without his own fault, he had nothing to do\nwith that. In many places where he came, he found that Haersten and\nHolmsten had been just before him with their six ships. Leif took no\nreal trouble to overtake them. He remembered his promise to Ingolf,\nand had resolved to put his trust in chance. Chance had before shown\nhim considerable kindness. But when, towards the close of summer, he\ndirected his course homewards, chance had not yet come to his help.\nIt was therefore with a certain disappointment in his mind that he\nturned homeward from his summer expedition. It was indeed no small\ndisappointment to him that fate had not allowed him to meet Atle's sons.\n\nOlmod the Old, who, as has been related, was voyaging with a fleet of\nfive ships, made inquiries about his kinsman, Leif, wherever he went.\nIn many places Leif had been just before him, but had sailed again no\none knew whither.\n\nOlmod the Old was continually on his scent, and sailed, so to speak,\nin his wake the whole summer, though without any success in overtaking\nhim. He vowed offerings and gifts to Odin if he would help him to find\nhis kinsman. But Odin seemed to have turned his eyes from him.\n\nOlmod kept himself likewise informed concerning the voyage of Atle's\nsons. From their movements he could not ascertain whether they intended\nevil against Leif or not. It did not really look as if they were\nfollowing him. Perhaps they did not know what direction he was taking,\nbut Olmod considered it best to be on the watch.\n\nLate in the summer, Olmod lost every trace of Leif. But as a\ncompensation he so nearly succeeded in overtaking Atle's sons that he\nat last caught a glimpse of their ships making out to sea on their way\nhome. It seemed to Olmod that they were sailing rather early. Were they\nthinking of concealing themselves among the rocks and islands off the\ncoast and giving Leif a warm reception when he turned home? Olmod the\nOld was from his own experience not unacquainted with stratagems. He\nkept a sharp eye on Atle's sons.\n\nFor some time he kept his ships hidden in a creek near the ordinary\nroute in order to catch Leif, if possible. At last he could wait no\nlonger. Leif, he thought, must have turned homeward by some other way,\nand as good sailing weather just then set in, he directed his course\ntowards Norway. He had come to the conclusion that the safest thing\nwas to try to find Atle's sons, or at any rate to get news of them. If\nhe found that they had sailed the direct way home, there was scarcely\nanything to fear from them that autumn.\n\nOn a dark and stormy autumn day, with clouds driving across the sky\nand a tossing sea, Leif came sailing past Hisargavl. He was sailing\nalong, thinking of his disappointment, when he suddenly found himself\nsurrounded by ships bearing down upon him with their battle-ensigns\nhoisted. For the sake of his promise, Leif counted the ships; they\nwere six in number. He looked closer at them, and recognized them as\nthose of Atle's sons. Then Leif felt a great contentment fill his\nmind. Here at last came his friends, the sons of Atle. And luckily\nall chance of flight was excluded. It would have been vexatious if he\nhad had to break his word, but now it was all right. For Ingolf could\nnot expect of him that he should surrender unconditionally in order\nto avoid battle with Atle's sons. He gathered his ships together and\ncommanded them to lower sail; quickly he had boards for defence fixed\non the quarter-deck, and cleared the ships for action. He went about\nand became gradually agitated with excitement and happy expectation. At\nlast--at last the opportunity had come for seriously exchanging blows\nwith Holmsten. One of them should in any case be a guest of Odin that\nevening. How he was to manage with his three ships against the six of\nAtle's sons did not worry Leif much.\n\nWhile he issued his orders, he had only eyes for Holmsten's\ndragon-ship. There Holmsten came, also in a state of excitement. Now\nthe long boat-hooks could reach the gunwale on Holmsten's ship. \"Pull\nhard, men!\" Leif had a great longing to salute Holmsten. The first\nspear whistled through the air. From both sides it was greeted with\ncheerful battle cries and gay laughter.\n\nAt length the two dragon-ships lay side by side, rocking violently\nupon the grey sea. Blows and shouts were exchanged above the high\nquarter-deck boards. Leif pushed his men roughly to one side. He had\nset eyes on Holmsten. A spear whistled past his ear, and he heard\nHolmsten laugh and shout: \"There is a spear in place of the one you\nsank here last autumn.\"\n\nLeif twisted himself to one side, seized the spear, aimed at Holmsten,\nand sent it back. \"I have enough weapons, friend Holmsten! I will test\nthe ax you once gave me on your own skull.\" Holmsten avoided the spear\nat the last moment by a leap to one side.\n\nNow Leif was close to the gunwale. The fight went on energetically\non both sides of him. The ships reeled violently and crashed noisily\nagainst each other. Salt spray concealed now and then the hot faces.\nLeif held his ax raised and shook it towards Holmsten. \"Now, when I\ncleave your head before long, it will not be through carelessness!\nRemember that, Holmsten.\"\n\nHolmsten laughed derisively. He could not properly reach Leif because\nof his men. \"It will double my joy, friend Leif, to know you are lying\ncold at the bottom of the sea, by the side of your spear, while your\nfriend Helga makes me comfortable.\"\n\nLeif leaped up on the quarter-deck boards, swinging his ax high over\nhis head, but was forced back. He tried again and again, but was met by\na wall of weapons. One of Atle's sons' other ships hooked itself fast\non to the other side of the dragon-ship. The battle raged furiously\nalong both gunwales.\n\nDuring an involuntary pause in the battle, Leif found time to look\nround him a little. One of his ships was already overpowered, and the\nother surrounded by three of the enemy's smaller ships; his own was so\nhard pressed that it was obviously only a question of how long he could\nhold out.\n\nLeif saw clearly how untenable his position was. He did not envy Atle's\nsons their victory. He called those who had followed him on many bold\nexpeditions to him, and said in a choked voice: \"If we are going to\nValhalla, friends, let us take Holmsten with us, and as many of his men\nas we can!\"\n\nSo he stormed the gunwale, followed by his best men, and succeeded in\nobtaining a foothold on Holmsten's dragon-ship. And now Leif was at his\nease. Generously he dealt out blows and thrusts, and devoted himself\nenergetically to the battle. He saw his men falling round him, and he\nhimself had several wounds which he had not time to think about. He was\nnot afraid of death, but meant to take Holmsten with him.\n\nWhile Leif stood there, and dealt doughty blows around him in order\nto get at Holmsten, there came in sight a fleet of five ships by\nHisargavl. The five ships were sailing swiftly, and the water foamed\nround their bows as they approached. At last Olmod the Old was about to\novertake Leif. And he had bestirred himself, as it appeared. He gave\nhimself no time to survey the situation, but drove his ships right\nin among the combatants. In his green cloak, with a golden helmet on\nhis head, he stood in a dignified attitude by the mast and issued his\norders.\n\n\"It looks as if you wanted a little help, Cousin Leif!\" he shouted in\nthe joy of battle. All other talking he left to his weapons.\n\nHaersten saw quickly that his position was untenable, and gave orders\nfor flight. But it was by no means so easy to get away in a moment.\nHolmsten's ship soon lay wedged in between those of Leif and Olmod the\nOld. Leif made use of the confusion which ensued among Holmsten's men\nat suddenly finding enemies on both sides, and made his way close up\nto Holmsten. When Holmsten saw him coming, he prepared to receive him\nin his cool and quiet way. But now Leif had become quite wild. When it\nseemed that he could not get forward quickly enough, he flung his ax\nat Holmsten's face. Holmsten dropped his weapons, threw up his arms,\nreeled, and fell.\n\nLeif's joy at seeing Holmsten fall was so great that he forgot to be on\nhis guard. One of his men pushed a shield in front of him just in time.\nThe shield was cloven by the blow of an ax, intended for Leif. But Leif\nwas not to die that day. Now he was himself again, picked up his ax,\nand continued the attack. After Holmsten's fall the opposition was soon\nbroken.\n\nA couple of Olmod's ships had recovered the ship Atle's sons had won\nfrom Leif. Olmod secured for himself Holmsten's ship as a reward for\nhis trouble, and in order to be able to provide offerings and gifts to\nOdin. The remainder of Atle's sons' ships escaped in disorder.\n\nOlmod came across Leif where he was sitting and binding up his wounds.\n\n\"You are bleeding much, cousin, and can be glad that you still have\nblood to bleed.\"\n\n\"That I owe to you, Cousin Olmod. What lucky wind was that which blew\nyou here, just when you were most needed?\"\n\n\"Ask, rather, what freak was it of Odin's that he did not let me\novertake you before. I came to Dalsfjord the day after you sailed, and\nhave pursued you in vain all the summer.\"\n\nLeif looked up hastily. A sudden fear shot through him.\n\n\"What did you want me for?\"\n\n\"That you have seen.\"\n\nLeif was quiet again. \"Nothing more?\" he asked.\n\n\"Don't you think I had cause enough? Did you expect me to follow your\ntedious tracks, the whole summer, merely to bring you a greeting from\nHelga?\"\n\nLeif rose and drew a bracelet off his arm. It was for Olmod. He brought\nforth his most valuable things, resolved to give Olmod all the best he\nhad. Objections were useless. When Leif gave, he gave what he had, and\nkept nothing back till he had no more.\n\n\"Finally, don't think that by killing Holmsten and putting Haersten to\nflight you have finished with Atle's sons,\" Olmod said warningly. \"I\nthink, Cousin Leif, you had better come home and spend the winter with\nme.\"\n\nLeif thanked him warmly for the invitation. \"It is such a short way\nhome to the fjords that I don't care about making a circuit. But What\nif you came home with me and remained with us for the winter, Cousin\nOlmod?\"\n\nBut Olmod declined. A whole winter in one and the same place did not\ntempt him at all. \"You brothers have enough friends round you, but be\ncareful, cousin. I should be surprised if Haersten let the grass grow\nover the matter he has to settle with you. I am glad that this time\nI could be a little use to you, Leif. You have rewarded my help, as\none might expect from you, spendthrift that you are! May good fortune\nfollow you wherever you go.\"\n\nOlmod and Leif parted with great friendliness, and each sailed to his\nown home.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nIt was really a surprise to Ingolf when he heard from his brother what\nhad happened at Hisargavl. He had gradually come to fear a collision\nbetween Leif and Atle's sons. He did not trust Atle's sons any more\nsince the feast of the previous winter. With a gloomy and slightly\nabsent expression he heard Leif's account to the end. \"I do not grieve\nfor Holmsten,\" he said severely, when Leif finished. \"I am glad that\nboth brothers did not escape alive from the game. The Norns often\nstrike accurately.\"\n\n\"It was by my ax that Holmsten fell,\" Leif answered curtly. \"I will not\nshare the honour of having slain him with any one, not even with the\nNorns!\"\n\nIngolf smiled, but there was no laughter in his mind.\n\n\"The most important point, Leif, is that you returned home alive,\" he\nsaid cordially. \"Thank yourself for it, but allow me to thank the gods\nand goddesses of fate.\"\n\nHelga was very quiet when Leif told her about the battle. There rose in\nher soul a yet greater tenderness towards him. Every day, yes, every\nhour, with Leif became precious. A foreboding told her that Leif was\nscarcely destined to live long. Her happiness was like the flying birds.\n\nOrn became quite enlivened by hearing of the fight at Hisargavl. Ingolf\nrelated it to him with much detail. As soon as he had finished, Orn\ndemanded to have the whole told over again. It was entirely after his\nmind--a proof that the race was not extinct. He put many questions and\nasked for incidents. Time after time, when the talk concerned Leif, he\nnodded approvingly. When his curiosity was at last satisfied, he sat\nsilent and thoughtful, and still kept nodding to himself.\n\nRodmar sat in his darkness and heard the account through at one\nsitting. When Ingolf began again, he sighed deeply, rose, and,\nsupported on his two sticks, tottered to his chamber and crept into\nbed. He could not understand that there was still so much disturbance\nin the world.\n\nWhen Ingolf came out again from his father he was silent and\nthoughtful. He sought Leif, and found him in Helga's room. Ingolf sat\ndown silently by his side and remained for a while without speaking.\n\"Now Haasten remains behind with one arm,\" he said at last, in a\nsubdued tone, more as though speaking to himself than to the others.\n\nHelga looked hastily at him. \"One must feel a great longing after a\nbrother one loves,\" she said quietly.\n\nLeif laughed sarcastically. \"It will scarcely be a one-armed Haasten\nwho comes out to take vengeance for Holmsten.\"\n\nIngolf looked at him. There was a troubled, but firm and quiet, look\nin his eye. \"I should be surprised if Haasten took vengeance,\" Leif\nlaughed scornfully. Ingolf rose quietly and said: \"But it would be best\nto be on our guard against Haersten.\"\n\nIngolf took home to the chief house as many of his own and Leif's men\nas could be spared from the rest of their property. Moreover, he\ncollected his friends from the surrounding district. He always had\nmany people round him in the winter. He set guards on all the roads to\nsecure himself against an unexpected attack, and for the rest watched\nevents quietly.\n\nWhat had happened, had happened, and could not be altered. And whose\nfault was it? Neither his nor his sworn brother's, it seemed to him.\nHe made offerings to Odin and Thor, and relied on them and on the good\nluck of the family.\n\nAlready, on the day after his arrival, Leif had to go to bed. For a\nconsiderable time he had to keep quiet. He suffered a good deal from\nhis wounds. They were on various parts of his body, so that it was\ndifficult for him to find rest.\n\nLeif was not good at keeping quiet. He was tormented by an intolerable\nimpatience. Time after time when his wounds were on the point of\nhealing up they opened again, because of his want of care. The fever\nwhich accompanied the wounds had a wearing effect both on his flesh and\nhis temper. He became even more bony and thin than he had been before.\nLong and wasted he lay there in bed, and vexed himself over the loss of\nthe days, of which he was unjustly deprived.\n\nHelga nursed him patiently, and always sat by him. That was the only\nthing which reconciled him with this kind of existence. He could not\nlook away from her even for a moment. Leif discovered that there was\na happiness and soothing effect in the touch of Helga's hands, which\nhe had not hitherto known. All the time he had to have her hands busy\nabout him. Leif was not easy to manage. In vain did Helga beg and pray\nhim to leave the bandages alone and not continually look at his wounds\nat the wrong time. At last she went in despair to Ingolf, and Ingolf\nfound a means. On the same day that Helga had spoken to him, he said\nto Leif in his usual composed manner: \"Your wounds are a long time\nhealing, Cousin Leif. You will hardly be fit for fighting by the time\nHaersten attacks us.\" That was effectual. Ingolf knew his brother. From\nthat day Leif lay rigidly still and did not touch the bandages. With a\nmighty effort he kept his mind in control and curbed his impatience.\nWith a mysterious smile in her eyes, which Leif could not understand,\nHelga continued to nurse him. Leif could not make out why her eyes\nhad suddenly become so bright. Here he lay, tortured both outwardly\nand inwardly. One would think that was nothing to be amused at. At\nlast he asked her plainly, and in a rather morose tone, why she was so\ncheerful. Helga laughed, and promised to tell him as soon as his wounds\nwere healed; for now that could hardly be long. Leif sighed. It seemed\nto him that already the time had been incomprehensively long.\n\nAt last the day came when Leif could go about on his legs again. But\nit was plain that he had quite got out of the habit of going with his\nhead high and his legs down. His head was not so high aloft, and his\nlegs tottered. He had to laugh at them. They were really silly legs--to\nspeak plainly--miserable legs of dough. He went about laughing and\nwaddling, and was obliged every minute to sit down and rest his legs.\nHe had never guessed that such a simple thing as walking could become\nso difficult.\n\nBut one day it was difficult no longer, and Leif rapidly forgot both\nhis sickness and his weakness.\n\nWhat was Haersten about? It seemed to Leif plain that he had a claim\nthat Haersten should come now, and quickly. Now that he was in a\ncondition to receive him in a suitable manner, he began to long for him\ndeeply.\n\nLeif went and exercised his arm-muscles by cutting logs for the fire.\nAh! So he intended to split Haersten's head. But Haersten still kept\nthem waiting. It was not according to Leif's mind to go and wait for\nan attack, which did not come. Had he had sufficient hope that Ingolf\nwould go with him on a journey to Gaulum he would have proposed it. In\nhis leisure time Leif imagined for himself an attack on Atle Jarl and\nhis sons, picturing it down to the minutest details. He would himself\nstrike down Haersten and Atle Jarl. But he would prefer to let Haasten\nescape with his life. It was a shame that such a splendid plan of\nattack should always be shipwrecked on Ingolf's obstinacy.\n\nAt last Haersten came. It was lucky that Ingolf had set guards upon\nthe roads. Haersten did not come alone. He had planned his attack with\ncare. He wished to wait till the brothers perhaps might not be so much\non the alert. And he wished to come with a picked and numerous band,\nwhich it took time to assemble secretly, as the sworn brothers had\nfriends also in those parts. Haersten had resolved that _one_ life was\ntoo little compensation for Holmsten. They should both die. Preferably\nhe would strike them both to earth with his own hand.\n\nHaersten had to do without Haasten's help in planning and carrying out\nhis attack. On the other hand, Haasten did not put difficulties in his\nway. Haasten gave his mind to taking what vengeance he could, and to\nthe extent he was able. \"But my mind and my sense of justice tell me,\"\nhe said, \"not to go with you against the sworn brothers.\"\n\nHaersten asked him whether his mind and his sense of justice did not\nalso bid him to leave both his brothers unavenged in case he also\nshould fall. Haasten answered him that time would show, but that it was\nconceivable.\n\n\"It might seem that you care more for Ingolf than for your own\nbrothers,\" Haersten said coldly.\n\n\"I have a great regard for Ingolf,\" answered Haasten. \"You brothers\nwere not afraid to profit by your greater force when you attacked Leif.\"\n\nSo the conversation ended. When Haersten had quietly collected as many\nmen as he thought would ensure a victory over the sworn brothers,\neven if he found them prepared, he started one night and took the\nway to Dalsfjord. He advanced by secret paths, and hid in the woods.\nHe marched only by night, resting by day. But though he showed all\npossible caution, Ingolf's guards got news of his expedition. They\nwere able to inform Ingolf in time that Haersten was approaching with\na numerous following. In great haste the brothers collected a still\nlarger number, and marched against him to meet him before he expected\nit. The encounter took place one winter morning on the heath. Haersten\nand his men had spent the night on the outskirts of the wood. It was\na still morning, with mild air, and the ground was heavy. The weather\nwas admirably adapted for a battle, save that the snow became slippery\nwhen it had been trodden hard. Haersten and the sworn brothers prepared\nthemselves, each on his own side, for a trial of strength, in all\nquietness and at their leisure. The result of the battle was of great\nimportance to both parties, and they urged their men to be cautious and\nkeep together.\n\nHaersten seemed to seek Leif. And Leif was not the man to avoid a\nwilling opponent. It was not long before they stood opposite each\nother, both fierce and vigilantly watching. But the fight between\nthem was of short duration. They had only exchanged a few blows, and\nneither of them had yet been wounded, when Haersten slipped on the\nsmooth ground. In the same instant Leif's ax descended on his neck.\nHaersten fell and remained lying. Red blood streamed profusely out of a\ndeep wound in his neck. Smoking, it oozed into the cold white snow and\nformed holes with reddish edges. Thus fell Haersten.\n\nWhen he had fallen, Ingolf had the trumpet blown for a truce, and\ninvited Haersten's followers to go in peace. As no one wished for\nmore fighting, Haersten's men marched, carrying his body, from their\nunsuccessful attempt, back to Gaulum.\n\nLeif was quite jubilant. He never remembered having been so glad. Now\nhe had avenged the attack at Hisargavl, and settled all the rest of\nthe account which he had with Atle's sons. There was a high degree of\nintoxication in his mind. He composed and sang with a strong voice a\nvictor's song.\n\nBut Ingolf did not show any joy at the victory. He was silent and\nthoughtful. As soon as he had returned home with his men, he went to\nhis father and told him of Haersten's fall. \"It will not be in the neck\nof Atle's sons alone that Leif's ax has struck wounds,\" screamed Orn,\nwith his heavy cutting voice, when he had heard Ingolf to the end.\n\"Trust me! It is all over with our peace in Dalsfjord. Even though we\nhave many friends, Atle Jarl and Haasten will in the long run prove\ntoo strong for us. Make peace with Haasten, my son, before it is too\nlate. For old friendship's sake he will be satisfied with taking your\nproperty and driving you away from this district. I am too old, I\nknow, to leave Dalsfjord myself. But don't you trouble about that. I\nam full of days, and will die soon. I had a foreboding that Leif would\ncause misfortune. But he is a plucky fellow. And what has happened has\nhappened. Let me see him.\"\n\nIt had never been the case before that Orn had wished to see Leif. Once\nthe sight of Leif had been to him a plague and an unceasing source of\nannoyance. Now he wished to see him. Leif was called, and willingly let\nhimself be inspected by Orn's red, inflamed, swollen eyes. His spirits\nwere so cheerful that he felt impelled to show himself friendly even\ntowards Orn.\n\n\"Your appearance does not answer to your exploits,\" Orn exclaimed. \"You\nare rather slight in body to be a warrior. But, at any rate, I will\ngive you Helga since she wants you. Take her and marry her, but do it\nquickly. For I will gladly drink your health at your marriage before I\ndie. And I shall die soon.\"\n\nLeif smiled and thanked him and was very friendly. It amused him to\nthink that the permission was really rather superfluous. But that day\nhe did not wish for any trouble. Haersten's death made him feel so\nprosperous and benevolent.\n\nIngolf had all day long been meditating. In the evening he asked Leif\nto speak with him in private.\n\n\"What do you think of sending messengers to Haasten and offering him an\nagreement on terms to be fixed by himself?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"That seems to me to be unnecessary weakness to submit the matter to\nHaasten's decision alone,\" answered Leif arrogantly. \"If he wishes to\npay us a call we shall know how to receive him.\"\n\n\"You forget, brother,\" said Ingolf calmly, but in a troubled voice,\n\"that only in the utmost extremity can I use weapons against Haasten.\nYou have deprived him of both his brothers. Even apart from the manner\nin which it happened it is a great loss for him. I, for my own part,\nwill gladly purchase peace with Haasten at the price which he agrees\nupon.\"\n\nThe tone of Ingolf's voice moved Leif to the heart. \"If you, for your\npart, wish to submit to Haasten's decision, I dare say I can consent,\"\nhe said, in a compliant tone. \"Hitherto I have not lost by letting you\ndecide matters.\"\n\nIngolf chose the men whom he considered best suited for such a mission,\nand bade them go to Gaulum and offer Haasten terms. Haasten received\nIngolf's envoys silently, and without returning their salutations.\nThey had, however, been his companions on a summer Viking expedition,\nand several of them had been his friends. They did not know Haasten\nagain. He had aged, and all signs of youthfulness had been obliterated\nfrom his face. Though his skin was still soft and smooth it was deeply\nfurrowed. His look was cold and solitary. When he had heard the object\nof their errand, he said in an icy tone: \"I will answer some day.\nMeanwhile I offer you shelter and food.\"\n\nHaasten let them wait a whole week for an answer. He had a hard\nbattle to fight first with his father and then with himself. Atle\nJarl would at first hear nothing about an agreement. He demanded\nunconditionally, although coldly and without passion, the lives of\nthe sworn brothers. He blamed Haasten for what had happened, because\nhe had at the time refused to follow his advice and offer Ingolf and\nLeif blood-brotherhood. Haasten did not answer at length. But he did\nnot give up till Atle Jarl agreed to lay the matter in his hand. When\nHaasten had thus become solely responsible, he had a hard battle\nto fight with himself. His family instinct demanded blood and not\ncompensation. Even multiplied _weregeld_ could not compensate him for\nthe loss of his brothers. But could Leif's and Ingolf's lives do it\neither? The fact was that nothing could compensate for the loss of\nhis brothers. But large fines might sustain the outward honour of the\nfamily. To bear weapons against Ingolf, who had not committed any\ncrime, was in itself unthinkable. Besides, Haasten remembered his vow\nto decide impartially if at any time a decision should be demanded from\nhim.\n\nWhen he had at last arrived at unity with himself he bade Ingolf's\nmessengers be called, and spoke as follows: \"The sworn brothers have\ndesired me to judge between them and myself. My judgment is this. No\ncompensation shall be asked for Holmsten because of his unjustified\nattack on Leif. But as compensation for Haersten, who went to take\nrighteous vengeance for his brother, and by doing so lost his life at\nLeif's hand, I adjudge to myself all the sworn brothers' real property.\nBefore three winters have passed they shall have left all their land\nand territory and fjords and hills. Otherwise they will be treated as\noutlaws wherever they may be found in the district.\"\n\nThe messengers went home and informed the brothers of Haasten's\nsentence. When Ingolf had heard it, he said quietly: \"That was to be\nexpected.\"\n\nLeif, on the other hand, was furious. He never remembered to have heard\nof such an unreasonable sentence. Ingolf bade him take the matter\nquietly. \"The sentence is certainly hard,\" he said, \"but Haasten's loss\nis harder. I would not willingly change my circumstances with his.\"\n\nAll bitterness against Haasten vanished comparatively quickly from\nLeif's mind. The question, where they should now go and settle,\nabsorbed him, all at once, so completely that he had no thoughts to\nspare for anything else. Leif was glad enough to go and settle in a\nnew country. One day he wished to go to England. Another day Ireland\nhad suddenly assumed a great attraction for him. The Faroe Islands,\nHjaltland, the Southern Islands--at least once a day in his thoughts he\nsettled in all these. All at once the idea of Iceland occurred to him;\nstrange to think that he had not come upon it at once.\n\nMaking a leap in the air, he went there in his own thoughts and settled\nin a strange land, and so sought Ingolf in hot haste. \"We will go to\nIceland!\" he shouted in his delight, and was already absorbed, body and\nsoul, in his idea. \"There we shall have a whole country to ourselves.\"\n\n\"Is it not somewhat lonely?\" asked Ingolf, smiling.\n\nLeif thought over that, and conceded that in the long run it might be\nrather lonely. \"But you will see many will follow after us. Many in\nNorway are discontented with Harald, who will not tolerate any will by\nthe side of his own. The best people will follow us thither--people who\ncan no more find complete freedom in this country. Harald is already\nseeking to kill many of the best men. There his arm cannot reach them.\nSooner or later the land will be colonized; it is said to be fertile.\nLet us be the first. Ingolf, do you hear, let us be the first.\"\n\nThere was something in Leif's plan which attracted Ingolf. If he had\nto depart and find himself a new dwelling, why not seek it in a new\ncountry? Ingolf the Imperturbable felt his heart beat.\n\nLeif was all fire and flame, and consequently not to be resisted. At\nlast Ingolf yielded. \"We can journey there in the summer and survey\nthe country,\" he said.\n\nWhen Leif had got Ingolf so far, he became wild with joy and dangerous\nto approach. Ingolf had to wrestle with him; there was no getting out\nof it. A little after they were both lying in the soft snow. When the\nwrestle was thus over, they began to pile snow on each other, till they\nhad to stop for laughing. The boy was uppermost in each of them. They\nwere happy, and forgot to be troubled and anxious at the loss of their\nproperty. Blood and life surged through them. They could still fight as\nin the old days.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nIngolf kept deeply secreted in his heart the image of a young girl.\nHer name was Hallveig, and hers was the only woman's look which had\never stirred his soul. Her grey eyes lived so vividly in his memory, he\ncould see them before him when he wished. The thought of them made his\nusually quiet heart quiver. Her name was Hallveig, and her image was\npainfully and distinctly impressed on his mind.\n\nHe had seen her for the first time in the preceding winter when, on one\nof his trading journeys, he had spent the night at the house of her\nfather, Frode. And that first time had hitherto been the only one.\n\nHe had made the acquaintance of her father, Frode, and her brother,\nLopt, before, at various sacrificial feasts. Lopt and himself had\nmuch in common. Lopt was a quiet and rather reserved man. His whole\nappearance bore the stamp of the well-to-do yeoman farmer's firmness\nand self-possession. Lopt and Ingolf had always felt attracted by each\nother. They were both strong, high-born men without deceit or flaw in\ntheir minds. A mutual consciousness of their inner affinity had from\nthe beginning brought them near each other.\n\nThus Ingolf came to the house one winter evening and saw Lopt's sister.\nHer name was Hallveig, and she was only eighteen. She was very serious.\nIngolf never saw her smile like other young women. Already her inner\nseriousness roused great disquiet in his mind. Hallveig did not go\nabout lavishing her smiles. Her look was watchful and critical. She\nlooked at people, and had a scale to weigh them by. One became clear\nabout one's value under her look. And her look did not flinch nor\nchange like that of other women when one encountered it. It met one\nlike a man's. It was in some degree a boy's look, thought Ingolf. He\nsat there that evening and could take neither his eyes nor his thoughts\nfrom Hallveig. Lopt and Frode often had to repeat their questions to\nhim. The whole of Ingolf's listening faculty was turned inward and not\noutward. He sat by her side and forgot both them and himself. All that\nhe knew was that now and then he cast a furtive glance at Hallveig. And\nyet he sat the whole time and looked at her. It was the first time that\nIngolf had been in love, and it was of benefit to him. The next day\nwas fixed for his departure, but he did not go. He was travelling with\nimportant objects, and it would be very extraordinary if he delayed\nhis journey without special reason. But he remained all the same, and\nforgot to give himself or others a reason for it. He simply remained\nbecause it was impossible for him to go that day.\n\nHe had a long talk with Hallveig, sitting by her side in the morning.\nA little after (so it seemed) he was surprised to find it already\nevening. How the day had gone was a puzzle to him. He was lost.\n\nIngolf did not find it at all surprising that he found such a good\nopportunity to talk with Hallveig undisturbed. He had neither time to\nnotice nor to reflect upon the fact that Lopt and Frode had left them\nalone the whole day. He had no idea that any one could look at him and\nobserve from his behaviour what impression Hallveig had made upon him.\n\nThe whole of that day, which he afterwards did not know what had become\nof, he sat and talked with Hallveig. Not once did she smile at him.\nBut there was in her look a charm which surpassed every smile. There\nwas a warmth in her look and a secret confidence which put him at his\nease. Her nearness filled him with a peculiar quivering consciousness\nof security. He felt that there was already a deep intimacy between him\nand this woman whom he did not know and yet knew.\n\nThe next day Ingolf went on his journey. When he gave Hallveig his\nhand at parting their eyes met. The look of both was firm and serious.\nSuddenly Hallveig smiled. Her eyes became bright with a beaming smile.\nAll at once Ingolf perceived that there was something he had forgotten\nor neglected--something which could not be omitted. He stood there\nwith her hand in his, uneasy and irresolute, quite otherwise than he\nwas accustomed.\n\nBut he now already held her hand at departure and must go. Confused\nand dissatisfied with himself, and yet at the same time filled with a\ntremulous happiness, he went away. Ingolf did not forget Hallveig's\nsolitary smile. He reflected much whether she had ever given any other\nman her smile, in the same way as she had to him. He did not believe\nit. But if she had, the man must die.\n\nHow Ingolf passed the year, before he returned to Hallveig, he did not\nknow. It was quite unconsciously that he gave the memory of her time to\ngrow and blossom in his soul. All that he knew about it was that every\ntime he had resolved with himself that now he would go to Frode's house\nand visit her, his mind was filled with anxiety and unrest. He found\nno solid reason for waiting. His longing urged him almost irresistibly\nto make the journey. He was also quite certain that he ran a risk by\npostponing it. All the same he waited.\n\nAt a feast at Gaulum the previous autumn he had met Lopt. During the\nthree days of the feast they had been inseparable. Quite involuntarily\nthey had kept together. Once, when the talk had turned on Lopt's\nand Frode's affairs, Lopt said, smiling: \"We cannot get my sister,\nHallveig, married. She rejects all suitors.\" As Lopt spoke, Ingolf's\nheart began to beat violently and joyfully. The day seemed to expand\naround him and become beautiful. The colours of the heavens and\nearth crowded at once upon his sight. The air itself became fresh and\nreviving. He found no answer to make to Lopt's remark, and therefore\npretended not to have heard him. Soon afterwards he began to talk of\nsomething else. But he did not succeed in deceiving Lopt, who, when\nalone, smiled to himself. Soon after Ingolf's meeting with Lopt, Leif\nreturned from his Viking expedition. Ingolf had enough to do, and was\nfor a time cut off from all possibility of travelling.\n\nBut when the agreement with Haasten was settled, and the journey to\nIceland to look for a residence determined on, it became at once as\nimpossible for Ingolf to postpone the decisive interview with Hallveig\nas it had been for him before to resolve on a visit. Ingolf, according\nto his custom, first spoke with his father on the subject. Orn was\nhighly pleased, and declared himself in every way satisfied with his\nchoice. \"Frode,\" he said, \"is rich and well-born. It is time that\nyou settled in life. Leif and you can celebrate your marriage in the\nautumn. You should not put off the journey for a day. You can go, my\nson.\"\n\nIngolf went to Leif and asked for his companionship on a journey\nwithout disclosing further the object or the direction of it. Leif\nneeded no pressing. He was always ready for a journey, he did not care\nwhere. If Ingolf did not reveal to him his object and the place whither\nhe was bound, it was because he had good reasons for concealing it.\n\nThe brothers left home with a select but not very numerous retinue.\nLeif received a strong impression that this mysterious journey was\nof great importance. Could it possibly be a wooing expedition? Leif\nstudied Ingolf closely, and came to the conclusion that it was. It\namused him to guess whom Ingolf had pitched upon. He could not make\nout. In that respect he knew nothing of Ingolf. Had Ingolf really\nfallen in love dumbly and silently? Leif could not picture Ingolf to\nhimself as an enamoured suitor. In secret he was immensely amused at\nhis brother's seriousness and taciturnity. But he showed great caution\nin his behaviour towards him. He observed that a great deal was at\nstake for Ingolf. He surmised that his quiet demeanour was not so\ngenuine as it usually was.\n\nWhen one evening they reached Frode's house, Leif did not guess that\nthey had already arrived at their journey's end. But as soon as he\nsaw Hallveig, he knew; and he was immediately filled with a warm and\nbrotherly affection for her.\n\nWhen Hallveig heard that Ingolf had come, she at once knew the reason.\nShe put on her finest dress, and displayed her most valuable ornaments.\nAny one might think what they would; for her it was a festal day.\n\nIn this attire she went to meet Ingolf. Quietly and seriously she\nreturned his greeting. Her whole manner told Ingolf that he was\nexpected.\n\nOne evening she led Ingolf to her room. The next day Ingolf spoke\nwith Lopt and Frode, and asked Hallveig in marriage. Frode gave him\nhis daughter gladly. Lopt said that there was no one he would prefer\nas a brother-in-law. They quickly settled all the conditions. The\nsworn brothers' loss of their property was not mentioned at the\ntime. Hallveig was summoned and questioned. Willingly and with deep\nearnestness she gave her mind to the matter. When, later on, she was\nalone with Ingolf, she wept and kissed him fervently. Ingolf was a\nconstant surprise to her. Afterwards she smiled at him through her\ntears. There was a peculiar power and a complete abandonment in all\nher caresses. Ingolf felt beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was\ncompletely his, and for the whole of life. And her demeanour showed\njust as certainly that she was happy.\n\nFrode and Lopt celebrated the betrothal by a great feast. Ingolf and\nLeif remained a whole week in the house. When they left, the wedding\nwas fixed for about three weeks later. In accordance with Ingolf's wish\nit was to take place in Orn's house, since his father felt too old to\ntravel.\n\nIngolf and Hallveig were agreed on having the shortest possible\ninterval before their marriage. They did not wish to wait a day longer\nthan necessary, now that they at last had each other. They found it\nalmost impossible to separate, though it was only for three weeks. They\ncould not comprehend how they had hitherto been able to live without\neach other. Ingolf felt now that the two years which had passed since\nhe saw Hallveig for the first time were as though lost for him. Yes,\nhis whole youth seemed as though lost for him since he had not met\nHallveig before.\n\nNever had Ingolf before reflected how short life really was. He had not\nmeasured it with love's measuring-rod.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nOrn was peculiarly restless during the first days after Ingolf's\ndeparture. He became gradually alarmed, though he had considered it\nthe wisest course to conceal his alarm from his son, lest Frode should\nperhaps make difficulties, now that the agreement with Haasten had\ndeprived Ingolf of all his real property. It was quite clear to Orn\nthat it was on this point the prestige of his family would be tested.\nIf Frode did not refuse to give his daughter in marriage to a man who\nhad been judicially deprived of all his landed property, it was because\nthe man was Ingolf, Orn's son.\n\nAs the days passed, and it became evident that the brothers, at any\nrate, were not returning at once, Orn became quieter, and with every\nsucceeding day his calm increased. The continued absence of the\nbrothers could be only due to their having succeeded in their object.\n\nOrn and Rodmar celebrated this by a justifiable drinking bout. Before\nthe fumes of their intoxication had quite passed off, Ingolf and Leif\nreturned home, having, as was apparent, quite succeeded in their\nobject. Orn and Rodmar went on drinking to celebrate the good news.\nThen Orn went to bed and slept for a night and half the following day.\nWhen he had had his sleep out, he began to arrange everything for the\ndouble marriage which was imminent. He also wished to have a hand in\nthe preparations for the feast. He let all and each know that since the\ngods had been so kind as to allow him to celebrate both his children's\nweddings, and that at the same time, there should be a feast which\nshould be known far and wide and be long remembered. He had the temple,\ntogether with every house and every cottage on the estate, swept from\nroof to floor, and all the woodwork cleaned. He himself selected\nthe cattle and the swine which should be fattened for the feast. He\ntasted the liquors brewed, measured out the meal and the corn, and was\neverywhere.\n\nRodmar was homeless in all this disquiet. He tried his old device of\ngoing to bed and keeping himself to himself in his darkness. He counted\nthe days and was morose. About three weeks were to be occupied with\npreparations for the wedding, and then a week with the festivities\nthemselves. Rodmar drained his drinking-horn deep. The future looked\nvery empty to him.\n\nOrn sent Leif and Ingolf out to invite people to the feast. They spent\nmany days in travelling from house to house. Orn questioned them every\nevening as to where they had been, and made plans for the next day. He\nwas indefatigable. A peculiar excitement, which he did not remember to\nhave felt before a festival since his early youth, deprived him of his\nappetite for food, and partly also of his tendency to drink. He was\nabout from early morning to late in the evening. All the same, it was\ndifficult for him to sleep at night.\n\nHelga sat in her room and sewed at her bridal dress. Every hour of\nleisure which Leif found he spent there with her. He was considerate\ntowards Helga, and avoided disturbing her with talk or caresses. He\ncould stand for hours together and watch her, as she sat and sewed,\neager and absorbed, with busy hands and hot cheeks. Leif was very happy\nat that time. But as soon as he had not Helga before his eyes, he could\nnot realize that in a few days they should be man and wife, and had to\ngo in again and watch her sewing the bridal dress.\n\nOrn had the banqueting hall draped with costly tapestry, and shields\nhung up.\n\nAt last the day dawned. And the same day spring made its entry with\nsouthern winds and genial temperature. Already from the early morning\nguests began to assemble at the house. Somewhat before noon came Frode\nwith his daughter and son and a splendid retinue. Then the wedding\ncould begin. With eight days' unbroken festivities the marriage bonds\nbetween Ingolf and Hallveig, Helga and Leif, were sealed.\n\nFrode showed great gladness at the connection, and celebrated his\ndaughter's marriage with all the customary sports and pageants. Orn\nonly celebrated his son's with sacrificial feasts, with, as became\na host, the usual meals and drinking bouts. The meals were many and\nluxurious, and the drinking bouts were long. Quantities of mead and\nwine were drunk, and many swine and oxen eaten, besides game and other\nfood common at festivals.\n\nOnce more Orn was able to sit in stately fashion in the high-seat and\npreside over a feast. During the days of this festival Frode shared the\nhigh-seat with him. They knew each other well by the wounds received in\ntheir youth and manhood. Many cheerful memories were revived, and they\nshared in great friendliness their drink and the high-seat.\n\nOrn had become an old man. Age had bent his back, made his face puffy,\nand dulled his hearing. Nevertheless, he wore an air of dignity on\nsuch an occasion. The chieftain was uppermost in him, and his natural\ncourage blazed up in one last victorious flame. Ingolf had rather\nfeared that his father would not be equal to preserving his dignified\nbearing through such a trying festival, but his fear proved groundless.\nOrn rallied all his powers and held out. He took part in every meal.\nHe emptied his drinking-horn at every health. He sat as host in the\nhigh-seat, and still on the last day of the feast his spirits were\nunequalled, his thinking power unaffected. He held out till the last\nguest had left the place. Then the spring had already done its work.\nThe snow had gone. Everywhere one caught glimpses of the first signs of\nsummer's approaching splendour.\n\nThe next day Orn lay dead in his bed. His right hand clasped the knife\nwith which he had just succeeded in cutting the sign of the Hammer on\nhis breast. He had secured his seat in Valhalla.\n\nThus died Orn. His death did not especially surprise Ingolf or any one\nelse. Age and debility had during the last years handled him roughly.\nIn spite of all, he had been a chieftain to the end.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nIt was very still in the house after Orn's death. His harsh, irascible\nvoice was suddenly lost in a great silence. And this silence was doubly\nimpressive just after the concluded festivities. Ingolf at once set his\npeople to brew drink, slaughter animals, and prepare for the funeral\nfeast. Orn should begin his last journey with all suitable honour. But\nthis time the work was done without the noise which usually attended\npreparations of that kind. In Ingolf's soul there remained a special\nsense of bereavement. He had always shown his father reverence; now\nhe realized that he had also been very fond of him. Ingolf selected\nwith care a spot down by the fjord where a funeral barrow would look\nwell in the landscape. He caused a little natural hollow to be filled\nwith potter's clay; then had one of his smaller dragon-ships rolled on\nlogs thither and fixed on the bed of clay with its bow turned towards\nthe south. Orn's journey should be towards the south and the sun. When\nthe ship was settled in its place and shored up, Ingolf traced a wide\ncircle round it. Orn perhaps was the last of the race who should rest\nin the soil of his fatherland, therefore his funeral barrow should be a\nnotable landmark.\n\nIngolf collected a large number of workmen from his own and Leif's\nestate, and set them to work at erecting the barrow. It was to be done\nquickly. For nothing is quite sure for a dead man till he rests in\nearth under the sign of the Hammer.\n\nIngolf sent messengers round to invite all those in the district and\nmany distant friends and relatives to the funeral feast at a few days'\nnotice. He and Leif superintended the work at the barrow, and it went\nforward rapidly.\n\nThe voracious earth was not to be allowed to devour Orn's ship,\ntherefore stones were fixed everywhere between the earth and the\nwoodwork. Outside it were piled gravel, earth, and turf.\n\nAmidships, round the mast, which was hoisted as though for sailing\nand so that the roof of the barrow might form an arch over it, was\nthe burial chamber, as broad as the ship and two fathoms in length,\ntimbered with thick oak-beams. It was to resist the pressure both of\nthe stones and the earth: there should Orn lie, warm and comfortable,\nready for his journey. All was arranged with a view to a journey by\nland and by water.\n\nIn the stern of the ship were stored up all possible articles which\ncould be of use in cooking. There were iron cauldrons of various sizes,\nwith the iron claws belonging to them and swivels for hanging them\nup on; a large barrel for the supply of the ship's drinking water,\ntogether with other larger and small oaken barrels with hoops of tough\nkinds of wood; different vessels with and without lids, together\nwith wooden dishes, some in the shape of fishes; pails with handles\nof iron and bands of bronze or wood; scoops of iron and of wood;\nknives; a stone hand-mill and a stick to turn it with; a frying-pan;\na three-legged kitchen-stool; axes; and many other articles. Some of\nthe wooden ones were splendidly carved, and on others many-coloured\ndesigns were painted. In the stern was also the ship's anchor. The\nrudder was, of course, fixed in its place.\n\nIngolf further furnished the ship with all that was necessary: cordage,\nsails, oars, tent-cloths and poles, hooks, oar-forks, and other\narticles for a voyage. A landing-plank was not forgotten.\n\nIn the fore-part of the ship he placed a carved and fully equipped\nsledge, with the harness and bearskin bags belonging to it. Thither he\nhad also brought a painted and carved carriage, with a driving-seat\nand harness. Orn's saddle was brought on board, together with bridle\nand reins, and all things needed for a horse. Orn should never be in\ndifficulties regarding his land-journey.\n\nIngolf had many things brought into the burial chamber. He filled\nseveral boxes with useful articles belonging to a chieftain's equipment\nand placed them in it. A bed and bedding were brought in, and he gave\nhis father costly coverlets for the journey. He did not forget to\nsupply a comb, so that his father might arrange his hair and beard\nwhen he presented himself before the Ases. He gave him also rings,\nornaments, and other valuables, so that all should at once know whom\nthey had before them. Moreover, he provided him with thunder-stones,\nsmall Thor-hammers, and other sacred articles for his protection on the\njourney, together with a money-box to defray the possible expenses.\nOrn should certainly not want coin. Ingolf also had several barrels\nof wine and meat brought to the burial chamber, together with costly\ndrinking-horns to drink from and to proffer. An ox and a swine and\nmany other animals had already been selected for slaughter. Orn should\nsuffer neither hunger nor thirst on his long journey.\n\nWhen all these things had been arranged, and the barrow was already\npartially erected so that there was only a wide passage to the burial\nchamber, and all that remained was to pile stones and earth over the\nship, the day came which was fixed for the funeral feast and committal\nto the barrow.\n\nA swarm of people had collected to do the last honours to Orn. Ingolf\nhimself conducted the ceremonies, both at the temple and at the barrow.\nHe had inherited the office of priest of the district from his father,\nand now himself discharged the priestly functions. With the sign of the\nHammer he consecrated his father for the last journey.\n\nStretched on a bier, clad in his splendid garments, Orn left his house\nfor the last time. A golden-winged helmet crowned his white hair. A\nsword gleamed by his side. A shield painted in many colours covered\nhis breast. Equipped for a chieftain's journey, Orn was carried to his\nburial chamber.\n\nThe serf who was selected and already consecrated to follow him, for\nit was not fitting that Orn should journey quite alone, stood ready,\nand only waited for the knife, with which he was to stab himself, to be\ngiven him.\n\nThen came Rodmar, who in these busy and restless days had been\nforgotten by all, tottering on two sticks hither from the house, led by\ntwo of his men and followed by another man carrying a chair. He was\nnot dressed as a chieftain. Looking untidy, as he had just got out of\nbed, in clothes which he had not changed for a long time, and with his\ngrey locks floating freely in the wind, came Rodmar, staring stiffly\nand blankly with his blind eyes.\n\nRodmar had had a bad time in his darkness and loneliness since Orn's\ndeath. He had hoped that death would come and fetch him before the\nbarrow over Orn had been finished. He would so gladly share the barrow\nwith him, and follow him on his journey.\n\nIt was impossible to remain behind now that his only friend had\ndeparted. The solitude became intense and oppressive around him, and\nthe pain of his darkness was doubled. At last he took the resolve to\nfollow his elder kinsman in death, as he had always followed him in\nlife.\n\nRodmar crawled over the gunwale on his crooked legs and groped his way\nforward to the opening of the burial chamber. Then he turned and spoke\nto the air. \"Is there wine on board?\" he asked in an impatient and\nperemptory tone.\n\nLeif sprang on board and led his father from barrel to barrel so that\nhe could feel them with his own hands. Rodmar shook the barrels to see\nwhether they were full, and sniffed them distrustfully. He chose one\nof them, and demanded to have one hoop knocked off. This was done.\nAfterwards he asked that the tool for opening it should remain with him\nand be close to his hand. He was also allowed to retain the tool.\n\nHis seat was fixed in its place, and Rodmar sat down with a long sigh\nof relief, as it were. On one side of him he had an open barrel of\nred wine, on the other a horn filled to the brim, standing on a little\ntable, which had been quickly brought to the place.\n\nRodmar borrowed Leif's sword, and, baring his breast with fumbling\nfingers, cut on it with his own hand the sign of the Hammer. Then\nhe said farewell to Ingolf and the others standing round, and in a\nslightly morose and curt tone gave Leif his last blessing. Then the\nopening to the burial chamber was closed up. Rodmar sat, as long as\nthey could see him, motionless on his chair. He had secured Orn's\nsociety for ever. He was prepared for anything that might come. A man\nshould be able both to live and die with a light heart. He had drink\nfor the journey, and there is also wine in Valhalla.\n\nIngolf killed with his own hand an ox that was laid on an oak-plank by\nthe side of the kitchen utensils. Its mouth was held open with a wooden\ngag and turned towards the south. He also slew with his own hand four\nhorses, two dogs, and a swine. The swine was laid by the side of the\nbox; the other animals were taken to the fore-part of the ship. The\nserf who was to have accompanied Orn was now spared, as Orn had better\ncompany.\n\nStones were heaped over the ship and all its contents, and then the\nbarrow was hastily filled up. This closed the funeral ceremonies. Orn\nand Rodmar had departed to Odin.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nIt soon became evident to Ingolf that on that spring day he had\nnot buried Orn only. He had also interred with his father his\nhome-feeling, his peace and confidence in this region of his childhood\nand youth. Already, when on the first morning after the burial he\nstepped out of the house and saw his father's mighty barrow lift its\ndome in the landscape, it struck him all at once that the district had\nassumed an alien aspect. The confidence in the contours and colours,\nwhich has its root in the child's free look and strong, unconscious\nsense of belonging to the spot where he has grown up, was gone. The\nlandscape had suddenly lost its light in his eyes. He felt thrust out\nand lonely. It was not here that he should live his life.\n\nHitherto it had not been really clear to him what a profound change his\nlife would undergo because of Haasten's sentence. The fact that he was\nnow homeless had, as it were, not yet broken on him in its full extent.\nNow he saw suddenly what Haasten's sentence really implied--a complete\nalteration of his whole life. First, years perhaps must be spent in\nsearch and insecurity. And then a battle for life and death with inner\nand outer powers, in order to gain home-feeling and home-rights in a\nforeign land.\n\nIngolf felt from his own experience that the race which has not its\nown soil to grow in is doomed to misfortune and ruin. The possession\nof land stamps the race. The man who could be sentenced to lose his\npossessions was exiled from the earth--this was what Ingolf felt now.\nSuch a man must gain earth's favour anew by his honest will to live in\npeace on earth's fruits.\n\nIngolf's hitherto unconscious instinct of opposition to force of all\nkinds was now suddenly revealed to him. That which had now happened to\nhim was not undeserved, even if the blame for the outer cause of the\nmisfortune could not be imputed either to him or to Leif.\n\nHe had continued to ravage foreign lands and to pillage people with\nwhom he had not the least quarrel. From a kind of secret cowardice he\nhad suppressed the unwillingness he had felt in doing so, as unworthy\nof a man and a Viking. But now he saw that law and right extend beyond\nthe borders of one's own country. They are valid wherever there is land\nand sea. The man who aims at living by force and pillage, not only\nsins against the law which he carries within him, but also against the\nearth--the sacred earth, which by the grace of the gods is so luxuriant\nand fruitful that every year it is ready to fill the peaceful barns. As\nlong as the Ases had still reigned undisputed there was peace in their\ndwellings. The Ases had been driven to conflict and war by the dark\npowers who were responsible for all disturbance. Thus all disturbance\nand violence came from the evil power. Ingolf vowed to himself that\nfrom that day he would never lift a weapon against any man except\nto protect his own and his family's life and property. That resolve\nsomewhat soothed the disquiet and restlessness which had seized him\nwhen he became conscious of his homelessness, and suddenly felt himself\nexiled from the kindness of the earth. The bright Ases would still\ngrant his family a home and prosperity when they saw his honest purpose\nand clean struggle. The earth would yet take him into favour again when\nhe no longer defiled it with blood and violence, would fulfill his most\nsacred, yes, his only wish, that his family-tree might be leafy and\nstrong-stemmed. Since fate had granted him Hallveig as a wife, it could\nscarcely intend to exclude him from the earth.\n\nIngolf thought much of the far and foreign land away in the west which\nhe was to travel to. Was it there that his family's cradle for the\nfuture should be? Was it there that the pillars of his high-seat should\nconsecrate the earth for him?\n\nHe dared not believe it yet. Neither did he dare to go to the gods and\nask them. He himself had to seek his future home. He must win again\nwhat had been lost here by his own fault. He wished to commit himself\nto the power of the sky and sea without first seeking instruction from\nthe gods. He would match his own strength and will against storm and\nsea as a pledge and sign. He would not beg; he would gain by fighting\nthe favour of fate and of the gods.\n\nNow that his father was dead, he was himself the eldest and chief of\nthe family. The responsibility for the honour of the dead, and the\nhonour and prosperity of the unborn, rested principally on him. For now\nhe alone wore the family bracelet, and now the high-seat was also his.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIngolf and Leif equipped themselves in great haste for their journey\nto seek the land which Raven-Floke had last visited, and which he\nhad given the name of Iceland. They wished to be there as early in\nthe year as possible, in order to be the better able to explore the\ndistant and unknown island. Therefore there was no time to be lost.\nThe first thing they did was to acquire a trading vessel, a strong\nsea-ship, in exchange for two of their smallest ships, which, in all\nprobability, they would not want to use again. A trading vessel was\njust what they now needed. In the conflict they were proceeding to,\nthere was no use for small, light battleships. Their new vessel was\ncertainly neither little nor light. It was a regular ox to look at.\nHigh and broad, clumsy and solid, it lay, and the movements of the\nwater only made it rock sluggishly. By the side of the long, slim,\nlow-decked dragon-ships, it was seen to great disadvantage. Leif\nlaughed at it, called it his rock and his old woman's boat, said that\nit had a stomach like an old cow, and expressed his fixed opinion that\nit certainly cherished secret designs of going to the bottom at the\nfirst opportunity. But Leif did it great injustice. The vessel was good\nenough for its purpose, even if it was a little slow in turning and no\nbeauty to look at.\n\nIt had a half-deck at prow and stern and a small side-deck along the\ngunwales. The rest of it was one large hold, in the midst of which\ntowered a great, solid, strongly supported mast. It was exclusively\nbuilt for the purpose of long trade-journeys, and therefore quite\nexcellently suited for such an expedition in which the chief object\nwas to convey as much as possible. There were but a few banks of oars\nfore and aft; one might as well try to row a rock over the sea. It was\nnot adapted to be propelled by slender oars. The oars were only there\nto turn it and to facilitate going on shore. It was to sail, not to be\nrowed. Therefore it was entirely dependent on wind and weather. But,\non the other hand, it took the wind and weather with a composure and\nimmovability which came near to justifying its nickname of a \"rock.\" It\nonly had one enemy--lack of wind.\n\nIt certainly did not dance on the billows like a dragon-ship. It was\ntoo contemptuous of the unstable element around it, whose humours it\nonly yielded to when compelled, and then as little as possible. It\nentered into no brotherly alliance with the wind. _That_ it took into\nits service and allowed to further its object.\n\nSuch was the new ship, inspiring confidence in a high degree and\nindependent, both in form and behaviour--free from all kinds of levity.\nStorm and sea were its--certainly often somewhat wayward--servants, but\nnot its masters.\n\nHallveig took an eager part in the loading of the vessel and in all\npreparations for the journey, and showed Ingolf in numberless little\nways that she had no intention of remaining at home. When Ingolf was\naware of it, it seemed to him that he had all along known that Hallveig\nwas like that. And yet it gave his happiness an increased fullness\nand weight. Without inquiries of any kind, with a silent agreement,\nas though it were a matter of course, Hallveig prepared to follow him\nalways and everywhere, to belong to him and to be near him.\n\nFor Helga, who already went about with a hidden foreboding of coming\nseparation in her mind, the spring suddenly became really spring when\nshe saw Hallveig's preparations. If Hallveig could travel with them, so\ncould she. Of herself, Helga would never have hit upon so bold an idea,\nthough not from want of courage. Her courage and readiness to sacrifice\nherself where Leif was concerned were boundless. Her backwardness was\nfrom an inherited fear of causing trouble and being inconvenient, and a\ndeep anxiety not to displease Leif in any thing great or small.\n\nHelga wept for gladness when it was decided that she should also go\nwith them. She did not often weep in the sight of others. Her weeping\nmade Leif quiet and thoughtful. He guessed that he often, for the most\npart through thoughtlessness, caused Helga grief which she did not\nshow. For some time his tenderness towards her knew no bounds, and\nHelga was happier than she had been for a long time.\n\nHallveig and Helga had been at first somewhat shy of each other.\nHelga was in her own way independent enough. She certainly had a will,\nand knew in every case what she wanted. But Hallveig's whole resolute\nway of behaving and acting alarmed her a little. It took her some\ntime to understand that Hallveig was far from being inconsiderate and\nselfish, that, on the contrary, she had a recklessness and warmth in\nher devotion which was apparent in each of her words and deeds in such\na decisive way that to superficial observation it might look like want\nof consideration and self-will. Yes, in her devotion Hallveig was\ncertainly reckless. Every one could easily see that she loved Ingolf\nand belonged to him with body and soul. The quiet and apparently cold\nHallveig displayed a peculiar latent warmth and energy in all that she\nundertook. She did not lavish smiles and caresses; that was not her\nnature. No one had heard her speak tenderly or lovingly to Ingolf. But\nout of all her actions shone love and tender solicitude. An invisible\nfire burned around the apparently cold-natured woman.\n\nWhen Helga first became convinced that she had at the beginning\nmistaken her sister-in-law and done her injustice in her heart, a\nspecially warm devotion for Hallveig broke forth in her soul. And\nfrom the moment that Hallveig saw that the reserve Helga had hitherto\ndisplayed towards her had been a veil she had covered herself with\nin the presence of a stranger, she embraced her also with the latent\nwarmth of her nature.\n\nHallveig showed Helga that outside the house also a woman may be a\nbenefit and do good service. Even when it was a question of loading\na ship for a long journey there were many things a woman could help\nand participate in. Hallveig, who was never at ease when Ingolf was\noccupied with the ship, from this time always took Helga with her when\nshe went down to it. She had an amusing way of walking, Helga thought.\nShe took long, resolute, manly strides, and her legs were obviously\nlegs under her skirts. Helga found it difficult to follow her when she\nwas in a hurry, as she almost always unconsciously was.\n\nHallveig examined even the smallest details that concerned the\nloading of the ship, with her husband and Leif, and did so in\na matter-of-course tone which aroused Helga's astonishment and\nadmiration. In everything she said, Hallveig showed her practical\nsense. She did not hesitate either to give help where it was needed.\nHer help and advice were gladly welcomed. Her advice was advice and not\nchild's prattle. It was nearly always followed.\n\nHallveig had a peculiar rapid way of surveying matters. This was\nthe best place for this, and for that. She demanded that everything\nwhich might be needed on the voyage should be as easily accessible\nas possible. Ingolf and Leif had never given a thought to that. They\nonly thought of packing things so that they fitted in, took the least\npossible room, and were so distributed according to weight and size\nthat the ship might lie on the water as level as possible. Now Hallveig\nshowed them that with a little reflection all these objects might be\nexcellently combined.\n\nHallveig's and Helga's presence and hearty participation in the\nwork--for Helga also quickly began to use both eyes and hands--put\nIngolf and Leif in high spirits, which helped them over many\ndifficulties and trifling annoyances.\n\nThe vessel was loaded amid much merriment. Corn in chests, dried fish\nin great bundles, butter in small barrels, and boxes of dried flesh\nand salt meat, beer and wine in barrels--a whole year's provision of\nfood and drink--were brought on board and packed carefully in the great\nhold. But the vessel's stomach had to find space for much more. Small\ncompartments had to be made for the animals which were to be taken with\nthem. A cow and a pair of goats; they could not be entirely without\nmilk. There was also an ox to be slaughtered, and a bull-calf to be\ncompany for the cow through the winter and grow large and fat and ready\nto be slaughtered in the spring. A sow with small pigs was also useful\nto have with them, together with some sheep, and a couple of horses\nwere simply indispensable.\n\nAnd, at any rate, there was room for a hut for Hallveig and Helga. The\nhut was Hallveig's idea. She did not wish only to be with them; she\nwished to live on board and to be comfortable. Leif jumped like a boy\nwith delight when Hallveig put forward her proposal about the hut.\nFrom that day not even the smallest thing seemed to him quite right\ntill Hallveig had expressed her satisfaction with it. He would rather\nhave Hallveig's help in counsel and action than that of most men, he\ndeclared decisively. And he was absolutely resolved to teach her to\nswing an ax and to hurl a spear. Hallveig did not often laugh, but she\nhad to laugh sometimes at Leif. There was the same completeness and\npower in Hallveig's laughter as in all the rest of her character and\nbehaviour. When Hallveig laughed, there was something to laugh at. She\ncould never be imagined laughing at any one or anything she did not\nlike.\n\nSo these spring days passed. Liveliness and activity reigned\neverywhere. This journey to a foreign land, which at the beginning\nseemed so difficult to carry into effect, so improbable and\nunrealizable, became through all these preparations imminent and a\nmatter of course for all those who took part in it. Here Ingolf now\nstood in the smithy and forged scythes to cut grass in a land which\nhe had never seen and really only heard a tale about. Who was Naddod\nthe Viking? Who was Gardar Svavarsson? Who was Raven-Floke? Or Thorolf\nSmor? Could one be sure they had not imagined that land over there?\nOr that others had imagined _them_ and the whole affair? One might be\nfoolish to believe it, but he was going to get a sight of it. And while\nIngolf forged scythes to cut grass in that legendary land of the west,\nand made spades to dig in its soil, that fact became firmly fixed in\nhis mind. In spite of all doubt, the land lay and actually existed over\nthere in the sea. And, in fact, it became more than real to him. It lay\nthere and spoke secretly to his soul; it waited for him almost like a\nfriend. And thus it seemed at last to have a claim on him, which he\ncould not disregard. For the land lay there and expected to be taken in\npossession, as is the right of every land. Such and similar thoughts\nfilled Ingolf. And yet he did not guess that while he stood there in\nhis smithy and forged scythes and prepared implements with which to\ntill the new land's soil, the land took _him_ in possession by help of\nthe secret power a land possesses--never again to let him go.\n\nIngolf and Leif had to prepare themselves to build winter dwellings\nand to store hay for their animals, therefore they took implements\nwith them, without considering what power the earth and implements\ntogether have over a man's soul. They did not guess that only homeless\nmen wander their free ways, which are no ways, or rather that secret\nearth-powers guide all other steps.\n\nIngolf and Leif provided themselves with fishing-gear and nets for\ncatching birds. They also took a pair of boats.\n\nWhen the boat was loaded and everything else was in order for the\njourney, Ingolf concluded his preparations with a great sacrificial\nfeast, at which he made abundant offerings to the gods, in order that\nthey should grant him and his fellow-travellers good fortune and\nhappiness on the voyage. Nevertheless, the days went by without the\ncommencement of the hoped-for sailing weather.\n\nThese days of waiting were hard for Leif to bear. He became morose. Any\nkind of waiting was the worst thing Leif knew. It made his hasty and\nadventurous spirit full of discontent. He cursed the vessel, called it\na wretched old woman's bath, and invented even worse names for it.\n\nIngolf took the matter quietly. Certainly he had already made his\nofferings to the gods, and copiously. But it was a special voyage they\nwere to make--the gods were to protect them, and on wide and strange\nways. He therefore brought fresh offerings, and also secretly gave\nOdin and Njord private gifts, besides vowing yet greater ones if they\nwould prosper his journey there and back and on the way. This expedient\nhelped. There came a day with splendid sailing weather--a sunshiny\nday full of light and warm wind. Before midday all was ready--the\nanimals brought on board, the crew in their places (Ingolf and Leif\ntook only the smallest possible crew with them), and the vessel cleared\nfor sailing. Under a heavily bellying sail it glided out between the\nskerries. Hallveig and Helga stood on the poop by their husbands and\nwatched the shores glide past on either side. Hallveig was quiet in\nmind, and felt only glad at the fine day and the journey. Sea and\nland were all the same to her, if only she had Ingolf. Here they were\nsailing out to find a new land, to seek a new home. She was ready with\nall her soul to remain fixed in the spot on the earth which Ingolf\nmight choose for them, no matter where it might be.\n\nBut with Helga it was otherwise. She was calm and quiet enough, but\nher calm was, as so often on other occasions, only outward. The strong\nscent of the pines from the spruce- and fir-clad islands they were\nsailing by, roused a profound longing in her soul. This was the place\nwhere she was at home. There in the house down there by the shore,\nwhich seen from the fjord here looked so strange. There seemed to be a\nsob in Helga's soul. She, the faithful, had only one home. She did not\nat all wish to turn or to remain behind, for she stood here by Leif's\nside. But she felt as though her heart were being split asunder and her\nsoul divided. For this place which she now left, to return to it next\nspring only for a time, had shared with her happiness and solitude.\nThere was hardly a stone in the house which she had not patted with\nher hand and made her confidant in joy or sorrow. She was bound to the\nhouse and the surroundings of her childhood with ties which could not\nbe loosed or cut asunder. She knew with certainty that she would always\nfeel strange and homeless outside Dalsfjord. She reproached herself for\nthis feeling--for she had Leif--but she could not overcome it. All she\ncould do was to vow to herself never to betray it. Thus Helga took a\nsecret with the scent of the pine trees from the islands.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIngolf and Leif sailed by the guidance of the sun and the stars, and\nsteered directly westward. For the first two days and nights a steady\neast wind filled the square sail and carried them steadily forwards.\nThere were high spirits and much excited expectation on board. Indeed,\nit seemed as though the wind had been sent by Odin with the sole\npurpose of furthering their journey. But just as they had settled down\nin confidence that they were under the god's special protection the\nweather began to shift and change. Now it seemed, for the most part, as\nif one or another of the divinities had set himself fiercely against\nthem, or as if Odin had suddenly become busy elsewhere.\n\nThe wind took the wrong direction, and seemed uninterruptedly occupied\nin settling private accounts with the towering waves of the sea. In\nthe course of two days and nights it had gone several times round the\nhorizon and varied through all degrees of strength from a moderate calm\nto what Vikings would mildly call a storm. And then all of a sudden\nit disappeared. They looked longingly for it--east, west, south, and\nnorth--for though they had cursed its vagaries heartily enough, it\nwas still preferable to a dead calm. But it was absent, and remained\nabsent. Unreliable as it had always been, it had gone off to other\nregions, and left them alone here in the midst of the sea. There lay\nthe vessel, pitching lazily, and making no way at all. Where they were\nno one knew, and there was nothing to show them. Whither the wind had\ncarried them, while it was still with them and blew alternately from\nall points of the compass, they could not find out. The sun and stars\nhad only rarely been visible. The spirits of all on board were rapidly\nsinking. Matters were not improved when, after several days and nights\nof calm, there came gliding a cunning, silent bank of fog and swallowed\nthem up, blotted them out from the eyes of heaven, swept all sight\nof sea and sky out of the world, and left the vessel lying, rocking\nlonelily, forgotten by all good powers on a strange sea.\n\nThere they lay while the days came and went--grey days which could\nonly make marks on Ingolf's time-stick. For even though Ingolf was\ndispleased enough with these days he kept a steady count of them,\nmarked each of them off on his stick with the little notch that was\ntheir due, and, for the rest, execrated them in silence.\n\nLeif had given up all hope now; morose and aggrieved, he surrendered\nhimself to the power of chance. He sat most of the days on the gunwale\nwith his legs dangling outside, singing from sheer despair. Only now\nand then he interrupted his song to hurl a violent succession of\nsanguinary curses in a penetrating, angry voice into the damp, foggy\nair.\n\nWith every day that passed, Ingolf became more silent and\nintrospective. What was the obstacle in their way? Were the gods so\nmuch opposed to this journey that they were absolutely determined to\nprevent it?\n\nHe did not like being questioned regarding the number of days he had\nmarked off. The days were quite bad enough without making them more by\ntalking about them. And at last he flatly refused to answer questions\nregarding the number of the days. For long periods he would sit silent\nlooking at his stick, forgetting to mark the days, with his mind full\nof inward longing and powerful exorcisms.\n\nHe heard that the crew were talking about drawing lots for a sacrifice.\nIngolf was not narrow-minded. But he remembered the offerings which\nbefore his journey he had made to Odin, as well as the vows he had made\nof further offerings if the journey prospered. Odin had often fulfilled\nhis wishes for less sacrifices than those. He really did not understand\nwhat was the matter with Odin this time.\n\nHallveig and Helga were the only ones on board who, to some extent,\nkept up their spirits. To Hallveig it seemed quite natural; they were\nvery well off, and the fog and the calm must some time come to an end.\nEvery morning she awoke with the firm conviction that that day the fog\nwould lift. Helga, on the other hand, had to pull herself together,\nin order not to be infected by the depression of the rest. Yet she\nwas accustomed to do this, and on this occasion she had, besides,\nHallveig's good-humour to support her. But their good temper seemed\nalmost to put the crew into a still worse humour. Even Ingolf--not to\nspeak of Leif--could sometimes be impatient at their unconcern. And\none day, in answer to a cheerful remark of Hallveig's, he very curtly\ndrew her attention to the fact that the water-casks were seriously\nnear becoming empty. Hallveig looked at him steadily and a little\nastonished. Ingolf had never before seen that look in her eyes. She\nwent to her hut without saying anything more.\n\nIngolf looked round for Helga. She stood by the gunwale, playing with\nLeif's hair. When Ingolf had thus ascertained that Hallveig was alone\nin the hut, he followed her into it. Hallveig was sitting and looking\nbefore her when he came. She did not meet his glance as usual, but\nremained sitting and staring into space with a troubled expression on\nher serious face. Ingolf stopped before her and laid his hand on her\nshoulder. Then Hallveig looked up at him. \"It can do no good to give\nup,\" she said seriously; \"that will not make things better. Have you\nnot noticed how the men follow you with their eyes, and are disturbed\nby your looks? There is nothing left us, Ingolf, but to take things\nas they come. The fog may lift some time. And since it has not rained\nfor a long time, it may soon rain, so that we can again have the\nwater-casks filled. And we have also beer and wine on board, so that we\ncan get along for some time.\"\n\n\"What makes me uneasy,\" answered Ingolf, \"is that we seem to be pursued\nby misfortune, and that I don't know at all where we are. It might\nalmost seem as if the gods had forgotten us, or as if we had fallen\nunder their displeasure. If the fog and the calm continue, and there is\nno rain for some time, it will soon be all over with us. You and Helga\nought never to have been taken with us on this journey. I have also\nheard that the crew are beginning to talk among themselves of casting\nlots. Perhaps a sacrifice will be necessary.\"\n\nHallveig was silent for a long time. At last she sighed deeply and\nsaid: \"I have never been able properly to understand how the gods can\ndesire human sacrifices. Perhaps, however, I would have agreed on this\noccasion if I was quite sure that the lot would not fall on you. But\nI cannot rely on the gods so absolutely. Let us rather wait awhile,\nIngolf.\"\n\nIngolf left her with the firm resolve henceforth to alter his outward\ndemeanour. He saw that the first and foremost thing was his duty and\nobligation to exhibit to the crew a calm and untroubled face, be the\noutlook never so hopeless. The first man he met he greeted with a\ncheerful remark, and after that day he was altogether more lively and\ncommunicative.\n\nWhen the crew saw what an alteration had taken place in Ingolf, they\nthought in themselves that he must in some way or another have\nreceived a token from the gods. Their desire for a sacrifice and\ndrawing of lots ceased. Ingolf's altered demeanour inspired them with\nhope and courage.\n\nBut the days went on, and one day the supply of drinking water ran out.\nDuring the night following the day when the last scoop of water had\nbeen equally divided among all on board, Ingolf did not sleep. And he\ncould easily see that Hallveig lay awake by his side. But they did not\ntalk. Ingolf was more and more convinced that the gods had for ever\nwithdrawn their favour from him. Perhaps it was their intention to let\nhim miserably perish here at sea. Would they not even grant him to die\non land? Could they not even spare a place for a funeral mound for\nhim and his? Ingolf reproached himself severely that he had involved\nHallveig in his own and his race's ill-luck.\n\nTowards morning they began at last to talk together in a whisper.\nIngolf opened his whole mind to Hallveig, and confided to her his most\nsecret thoughts and anxieties. Hallveig said that she had married him\nbecause she intended to share his fortunes whether they were good or\nbad. She feared neither life, nor death, nor the displeasure of the\ngods, if only she had him.\n\nWhile they were still lying there and whispering together, Leif stood\nsuddenly in the doorway and shouted. He had kept watch during the\nnight, and had good news to tell. The fog was gone and the wind was\ngradually rising. He had given orders to hoist the sail, and now only\nwished to ask whither they should sail, for he did not know. The sky\nwas overclouded all the time, and the sun could not be seen. Would\nIngolf come and see if _he_, perhaps, could scent out the right\ndirection?\n\nIngolf was on his legs in an instant. All anxiety and trouble was blown\naway from his soul by the first puff of wind. He took counsel with\nhis deepest instincts, and found a direction to sail in. The wind was\nrather slack at first, but then it had got out of the habit of blowing.\nIn the course of the day it freshened to splendid sailing weather.\nThere were birds on the water; they must be near some land. Towards\nevening they caught a glimpse of a dark streak ahead, which showed\ndistinctly against the fog-banks on the horizon. There rose a shout\non board: \"Land in sight!\" Then Helga wept. No one was astonished at\nit. Some of the men also felt a flutter at their hearts this time on\nsighting land again. But Hallveig stood quiet and undisturbed, staring\nat the dark streak ahead. What sort of land was it? Were they already\nthere? That night no one thought of seeking sleep or rest.\n\nEarly in the morning they were among some precipitous green islands\nwhich were divided by narrow straits with strong currents. From the\nvessel they could here and there catch sight of smoke from houses and\nhuts. This, then, was an inhabited land, and not the one they sought.\nOne of the old men on board had been here before, and was able to\ninform them that these were the Faroe Isles. That reassured Ingolf; it\nmeant they had not come out of their course. There was great joy on\nboard. Here they could go on shore, feel firm ground under their feet,\nand provide themselves with water. There were some among the crew who\nventured to hint that the voyage had lasted long enough, but a look\nfrom Ingolf was enough to reduce them to silence. All depression and\ndoubt had been swept out of his mind along with the fog.\n\nThe brothers now had all tubs, buckets, together with the empty barrels\nand casks which were on board, filled with water from a spring on the\ncoast. When that had been seen to, they were so fortunate as to get\ngood weather with a stiff breeze. It was again possible to sail by\nthe sun and stars, straight to the west. They left the Faroe Isles\nastern and made for the open sea. The weather remained fine, with a\nlight breeze blowing. The wind was certainly somewhat capricious both\nas regards force and direction. But it blew all the time, and that\nwas what was needed. Only seldom could the vessel hold on a straight\ncourse; they were obliged to tack, and so the way became somewhat\nuncertain. Still they made progress.\n\nOn the seventh day after leaving the Faroes they at last sighted land.\nA large and wide-stretching land, crowned by white glaciers behind\nblue mountains, and land with broad, open fjords and bright streams\nwhich wound down green mountain-sides, rose from the sea before their\nwondering eyes.\n\nThis must be the land they sought. Here then it lay, solitary and\nuninhabited, far away in the uttermost part of the sea. It lay silent\nand patient, expecting them.\n\nThe land greeted them with sunshine and summer and blue mountains.\nMajestic it lay there, with skyward towering promontories and broad\nmouths of fjords which, like open arms, offered them a royal welcome.\nNo other land had ever received them with such a festal and solemn\ngreeting as this gave them.\n\nA strange silence spread on board the vessel. It was early in the\nmorning that they sailed into a fjord full of swans. The blue surface\nof the fjord was completely covered with these white birds, which, with\nproudly lifted necks and in great flocks, swam to one side as the ship\nglided on. Many other birds swam among them--variegated eider-ducks and\nhandsome water-fowl. But one did not notice them because of the white\nswans. Hallveig named the fjord Svanefjord.\n\nThe brothers had chosen this fjord because it was protected by a little\ngroup of islands which might make it more secure as a winter haven than\nthe open fjords. They tacked a little to and fro, using a corner of\ntheir sail, and surveyed the land. Bare mountains rose on either hand.\nOn the north was a strip of fertile land along the fjord; on the east\nside the waves broke freely at the base of the mountain. The land at\nthe end of the fjord seemed fertile and inviting, but they could not\nfind a landing-place which suited them.\n\nIngolf proposed that they should inspect a little more closely the\nnearest fjord south of the one they were in. He had seen from the ship\nthat there lay a broad fjord sheltered by a small, low group of islands.\n\nThey tacked past a promontory and entered the other fjord. It was\nboth broader and deeper than the one they had just come from, but was\nlikewise full of swans! Hallveig laughed with gladness when she saw it.\nThis fjord also must be called \"Svanefjord,\" she declared. They might\nbe called North and South. She did not know there were so many swans to\nbe found in the world. \"Birds love this land,\" she said to herself.\n\nHelga stood by her side. She compelled herself to smile and share\nHallveig's gladness, but her heart was full of pain, for the beautiful\nland she saw here and which Hallveig already seemed to love, could\nnever be _hers_. She saw the swans, the mountains, and the green dales.\nBut in her heart there was no room for anything but a quiet, slightly\nstrange emotion. The scent of the pines from the islands at home was\ntoo keen in her memory. Ingolf and Leif stood silent and in a solemn\nmood, side by side; they looked at the land and did not say a word.\nThey had stood thus a long time when Ingolf turned to his brother and\nsaid quietly: \"What do you think of the land, Leif?\"\n\n\"It is a big land and seems a good one,\" answered Leif, in a low voice.\n\n\"If only most of it was not barren mountain,\" said Ingolf, but his\nvoice lacked the reservation which his words expressed.\n\n\"I think we might soon feel at home among these mountains,\" said Leif.\n\n\"It does not look unfriendly,\" Ingolf admitted.\n\nIn his inmost heart he was deeply moved. The strength and sternness of\nthe mountains filled his mind with a peculiar excitement. Among these\nmountains the green dales and fertile stretches of land, which he\ncaught a glimpse of at the end of the fjord, assumed a doubly home-like\naspect.\n\nSuddenly Leif awoke from his long reflection and silent contemplation.\nAbruptly and unexpectedly, as always, a resolve had been born in his\nmind, and aroused him. \"It is all the same to me what sort of a land\nit is--I shall settle here,\" he declared in an excited tone. \"Since I\nhave come, I think it would disappoint the land if I left it again. And\nI will not disappoint this land, which lies here so ready to receive\nme--so much is certain.\"\n\nIngolf was silent. Leif had given expression to his own thoughts. He\nfelt so convinced at this moment that here it was his lot to settle and\nremain. But this feeling was followed in his mind by a peculiar anxiety\nwhich almost made him sorry. Was it a good land--a land where one\ncould peacefully build and settle, and where his family could flourish\nin happiness and prosperity? Not himself alone, but his children and\nchildren's children should dwell here, if he determined to settle\nhimself in the place.\n\nThe brothers chose a landing-place on the north side of the fjord, and\nsteered thither. It was with strange feelings that they set foot on\nthis new land, which from time immemorial had lain here behind the sea\nand the distance, alone with its birds. On sea and land, everywhere the\nbirds swarmed. The questioning whistle of the golden plover and the\nrippling quaver of the curlew were the first sounds that greeted them\nas they trod the stones of the shore.\n\nIngolf and Leif immediately set the crew to work to bring the animals\non land and to unload the vessel. They themselves proceeded to pitch\ntheir tents, after having selected a spot with thick green grass, well\nprotected from wind and weather by a projection of rock, and close to\nthe brink of a small, clear stream. The kitchen utensils were brought\nup, and a fire kindled. The shore was covered with driftwood, so that\nthere was plenty of fuel. Pots containing salted flesh were hung up; at\nlast they got hot meat again. They could not remember that any meat had\ntasted so good as this hot salt flesh after the dried fish, preserved\nflesh, and hard and finally mouldy bread they had had on the sea\nvoyage. They baked bread, too, and ate it warm from the embers. It was\nsplendid to have soft bread between their teeth again.\n\nRound them the animals dispersed, grazing eagerly over the fertile\npastures. It was a pleasure to see the satisfaction with which they\nswallowed the green grass. Towards evening the vessel was so far\nunloaded that it could be brought ashore and rolled on logs over the\nground. They had chosen a little cleft in the rocks for it to lie in\nshelter during the winter.\n\nBy the evening, when the men had crept into their skin bags and had\nlain down to sleep, Ingolf and Leif, Hallveig and Helga, still sat\nround the remains of the fire, but did not think of sleep. They sat\nsilent, close to one another, and did not talk. The night was bright\nand still, and dew was falling. The fire gleamed palely in the night.\nRed ember-snakes writhed at the bottom of it. The fjord spread a\nshining surface, dotted white with sleeping swans. There was a peace\nand stillness over the land which filled their minds with a peculiar\nawe and sense of expectation.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe summer they spent in South Svanefjord was, for the brothers\nand their wives, an unbroken succession of beautiful days. There\nwas a peculiar atmosphere of peace and prosperity about the lonely\nsettlement, where the fire burnt day and night under the cliff behind\nthe tents, while on a rising ground close at hand their winter dwelling\nrose slowly from the ground. It was a house sixty feet in length,\nthirty in breadth, which the brothers were having built--a house with\nthick turf walls for a protection against the cold of winter, and\nadapted to be partitioned according to their needs when they had first\nroofed it in.\n\nWhile their men worked at the dwelling and gathered in hay as winter\nfodder for the cattle, Ingolf and Leif let the days come and go. And\nwhether they were sunny days or the fog hung in grey, soft, gliding\nbelts down to the middle of the mountain-sides, all the days had a\npeculiar solemn solitariness and charm about them.\n\nThe land they had come to was after Leif's heart. It made quite a\ndifferent impression on him to any other land he had visited. The\nsense of power that brooded over it, and the almost palpable solitude,\nswallowed up the unrest of his mind and gave him peace. The mountains'\nstrongly marked and infinitely varied shapes, a little copse hidden\namong grey cliffs, close up to a glacier, the heavily pouring rivers in\ndeep ravines, the fjords where the swans swam among other fowls like\nroyal dragon-ships among peaceful freighters, a seal bathing in the\nsun on a rock by the fjord, not wise enough to be afraid of men, the\ncountless birds' nests with the snugly hidden, different-coloured eggs\none came across everywhere, and then the soft, downy young ones hopping\nabout between little hillocks--all filled his soul with a sense of\nwonder and calm hitherto unknown.\n\nIngolf and Leif made little excursions on their horses in the\nneighbourhood. They soon ascertained that the fjords north of the\nSvanefjords were very poor in pasture-land; the mountains descended\nfor the most part steeply to the sea, while the land, on the other\nhand, seemed to become better the farther southward they went. When\nthey had made that discovery they equipped themselves for a journey\nof some days in order to examine the land south of the Svanefjords\nmore closely. Over a low, stony stretch of tableland they came to\nanother inlocked fjord which was much broader than even the broad South\nSvanefjord. The greater part of the upland of this fjord was, however,\ncovered with gravel and clay. Quite outside by the sea was a stretch of\nluxuriant meadow, and here and there stood rock-islets amid the sand,\nround which there were large green pastures. Farther up, right under\nthe mountains, there was also pasture-land, and there they found the\nlargest and most luxuriant wood they had yet seen. They came to a river\nwith many rapidly flowing courses which streamed with clay-coloured,\nturbid water over a sandy and unsafe bottom. But they had caught sight\nof some sharp mountain-peaks far to the south-west, and since it could\nscarcely be difficult to cross the ravines between them, they resolved\nto proceed thither and see what was to be found on the other side. It\nwas generally the case with this land, that one was not satisfied till\none had seen what there was on the other side of all the mountains\nwhich came in view. They passed with some difficulty the dangerous\nriver-current, and rode farther along high, steep mountain declivities\nstriped with many-coloured gravel.\n\nThey found a ravine between the mountain-peaks, and when they had\nreached the other side of the mountains, there opened on them, while\nthey rode along the edge of the steep descents which led down to\nthe lowland, a view, the like of which they had never seen. A fjord\ndotted with small green islands, wide-stretching meadows and pastures\nintersected by gleaming watercourses, a wide bluish ring of mountains\nwhich locked in the luxuriant region with a mighty curve, and behind\nall this in the south and west, glaciers--an immense, slightly arched\nstretch of sparkling snow with white offshoots to all ravines.\n\nIt was on a clear, sunny day at noon that they stood there and surveyed\nthis region, which arrested their minds with a sense of solemn wonder\nand irresistible fascination such as no view had ever done before. In\nhis rapture, Leif laid his hand upon Ingolf's shoulder and pressed\nit; he had tears in his eyes, and his large mouth quivered. They had\ndismounted from their horses and stood silent for a long time. And when\nthey mounted again to examine the district further, they rode on in\nsilence. From that hour they were Icelanders; the land was theirs, and\nthey belonged to it. In silence the compact was finally and irrevocably\nsolemnized.\n\nWhen they came back from their trip, Hallveig and Helga had an\nimportant and, as they themselves thought, serious piece of news to\ntell them. They had one day climbed up the green ascent above the\nencampment, quite up to the base of the cliffs, in order to get a\nwider view over the fjord and the district. And just as they sat and\ncontemplated the low group of islands and a little island beyond it,\nthey saw smoke rising from the island. It had been a perfectly calm\nand clear day; there could be no doubt that they had seen correctly.\nThey had not said anything to the men, and they now only wished to\nask Ingolf and Leif to be careful, and not to go about any more\nalone. Ingolf and Leif immediately put the larger of the two boats\nin the water, called some of their men, and bade them take their\nweapons with them. They wished to find out what kind of people they\nhad for neighbours. It was in vain that Hallveig and Helga begged and\nprayed them not to insist on going out, and least of all in a little\nrowing-boat. The brothers were too resolved on finding out more about\nthe smoke from the island. In answer to their wives they objected\nthat the ship was too unwieldy, and was, moreover, not a ship of war.\nThere was scarcely any chance of fighting; if there were people on\nthe island, they were probably some peaceful, starving, shipwrecked\nmen, whose vessel had been driven to sea and lost. For the rest, they\npromised to be careful, but they were resolved to go out to the island\nthat day.\n\nSo they rowed out thither. Even when they had got quite close to it,\nthey could see no sign that it was inhabited. They rowed round it, and\nstill saw no inhabitants or buildings. They determined to land, and\nchose a creek on the south side of the island. As soon as they had\nlanded, they saw a wretched little boat, in which they would hardly\nhave trusted themselves to cross a fjord, hidden among the rocks. They\nwent farther up on the island, and found a hut well concealed in a\nhollow.\n\nAs they approached, a man came forth in a splendid cloak and\nhead-dress, with a staff in his hands, and followed by some lean shapes\nblack with dirt, and meanly clad. They came out from the hut, but\nremained standing before the door, without going towards them. They had\nseen this kind of people before, and immediately perceived that they\nhad what were called Irish monks before them.\n\nBoth Leif and Ingolf, as well as several of their men, knew some Irish,\nand therefore went nearer in order to hear a little why these people\ndwelt here on a desert island.\n\nThe monks, one of whom carried a cup of water, evidently did not wish\nthem to come too near them or their dwelling. The sworn brothers\nremained standing at some distance and questioned them. The monks\nanswered their questions reluctantly, but they gathered from them that\nthey had lived here for several years, that they had long since heard\nreports of this land, and that other monks before them had journeyed\nto seek it out. They had not seen any of them, but the land was wide,\nand they had remained here on the island where they had first landed.\nThis information Ingolf at last extracted from the monks, with many\nquestions answered, for the most part, in monosyllables.\n\nWhen the brothers could not think of anything more to ask them, and\nwere going down to their boat again, the man with the head-dress,\ncloak, and staff stopped them with a question. \"Why had they come\nhither?\"\n\nIngolf told them that they had come here to look at the land, and\nintended to settle here.\n\nHis words aroused a movement and disturbance among the monks, and their\nleader gave him to understand plainly that the land was sanctified\nand reserved by God for Christian men; no heathen had ever settled\nhere, nor ever could. Every kind of misfortune would strike them if\nthey migrated hither, unless they first let themselves be baptized and\nwent over to the Christian faith. Ingolf answered them quietly that\nthey must grant him that it would ill become him to be less faithful\nto his gods than they were to theirs. The monk answered that heathen\ndid not trust in gods but in idols. Ingolf answered that the Ases had\nhitherto protected him and his family. Then bidding them farewell, he\nwent off, followed by Leif and his men. They saw the monks sprinkling\nwith water the places where they had trod. Then Ingolf smiled and Leif\nlaughed aloud. The monks sprinkled even the waves which had licked the\nheathen's boat.\n\nWhen Ingolf and Leif returned, they were able to quiet Hallveig and\nHelga with the news that they were peaceful and harmless people who\ninhabited the little island. Their only weapon was a little water in\na cup! After that they called the island \"Monks' Island.\" When the\nautumn came with cold and sleet the sworn brothers already sat warm in\ntheir turf-house. Before the dwelling Ingolf had caused to be built a\nsmaller edifice, where he set up small, roughly carved wooden images of\nOdin and Thor. And when the time for the autumn sacrificial feast was\ncome, he offered them an ox (they must share the offering as best they\ncould), and had a little feast.\n\nLeif held aloof from all things of that sort. During the twenty-four\nhours of the feast, he went out catching birds by day and slept quietly\nin his bed by night. In his lonely wanderings the brown leaves of the\nautumn rustled round his feet and spoke to him. Leif did not think much\nabout catching birds. He enjoyed being alone with the mountains and\nthe blue sky. Wherever he met a family of grouse who held faithfully\ntogether he let them go. He only aimed at solitary birds, caught them\nround the neck with a practised fling of his light line, and drew them\nto himself with one sweep through the air.\n\nIngolf's sacrificial feast and all his devotion to the gods was a\ncontinually recurring trial to Leif's brotherly feeling. He could not\nreconcile himself to Ingolf's constant and devoted adherence to the\nworship of these ugly wooden idols. Time after time he was obliged, in\norder to control his rising displeasure, to remind himself that Ingolf\nnever interfered in his beliefs and thoughts concerning the gods, and\ntherefore had a right to expect the same from him. But in his heart\nLeif scorned and despised Ingolf's gods, and it was inevitable that\nsome of this violent antipathy should sometimes glance on his brother.\n\nSingularly enough, on the other hand, Leif did not take it at all ill\nthat Helga held fast to her own and her fathers' faith, without its\nbeing clear to him that he possessed in that, as it were, a proof of\nher steadfastness. He did not at all wish that Helga should forsake her\ngods to follow him in his want of faith and contempt for them. The day\nthat she did so would have given a severe blow to Leif's happiness. So\nand no otherwise was his nature.\n\nThe winter came with hard frost but without much snow. The weather\nfor ski-ing, which Ingolf and Leif were waiting for in order to show\nHallveig and Helga a little of the country south of the Svanefjords,\ndid not come. Their disappointment was, however, mitigated by the fact\nthat their sheep and goats could, contrary to expectation, go out and\nget their food the whole of the winter, with the exception of a few\nstormy days. The brothers came to the conclusion that it was a land\nwhere relatively few people might possess many sheep. They also noticed\nthat sheep and goats both in winter and summer went up to the mountains\nand did not remain below in the luxuriant pastures. It was evident that\nthe grass they grazed among the stones upon the apparently barren\nmountains must be of peculiar strength, for the sheep's bodies remained\nstout and their wool white.\n\nThe goats had found some holes in the mountain near the house. There\nthey remained at night, took refuge there in bad weather, and were\ncomfortable.\n\nIn spite of the short days and long nights and the great solitude the\nwinter proved by no means long. Neither the brothers nor Hallveig\nnor Helga felt the solitude oppressive; it brought them into closer\nintimacy with each other in a way that no summer days could have done.\nThey sat round the fire, busy with their little occupations, and\ntalked cheerfully and confidentially together. Ingolf and Leif carved\nwood, Hallveig and Helga spun yarn and dyed it in different shades of\nheather-colour, made mittens and handkerchiefs, or artistically woven\nbands of it.\n\nIn the middle of the winter Hallveig gave birth to a boy, whom Ingolf\nsprinkled with his own hand with water and named Thorsten after Thor,\nand in remembrance of his former friend, Haasten, from whom fate had\nso painfully severed him. When Hallveig had given birth to her boy,\nHelga became extremely solitary in soul. She never could find any\nsign that she was with child. When no one could see her, she wept\nbitter tears about it, but gave no outward sign. Outwardly she was\nuniformly cheerful and bright, and showed to each and all an untroubled\ndemeanour. It was something she kept to herself, like the scent of\nthe pines from the islands. Spring came, with mildness in the air and\nvernal winds. As soon as it could be managed, the ship was launched,\nloaded, and made fit for sea. The sworn brothers needed as much as\npossible of the summer to make preparations for their migration here\nthe next spring, to exchange those of their movable goods and the\nlive-stock which they could not take with them for useful wares, and in\ngeneral to arrange their affairs in Norway before they left the country\nfor good. All of them, except Helga, left the new land, though they had\nonly been there a year, with regret. The land had been a good friend\nto them, and they were loth to bid it farewell even for a short time.\nWhen they sailed away from it, it lay there so quiet and silent, gazing\nafter them, as it were. Before they departed, the migratory birds had\nall come back. The land lay bathed in sunshine, with cheerful bird-life\non the fjord and on the shore.\n\nLeif, the restless, was no more eager for journeys. He would rather\nhave remained where he was, and not have travelled to Norway at all.\nBut even Leif had to grant that the plan was impracticable. The\nprovisions for the journey, which they had brought with them, were\nrapidly decreasing, and, moreover, it would be difficult for Ingolf\nwhen he came back to find just the same spot in the land, dependent as\nhe was on weather and sea. Besides, Leif saw clearly that Helga, though\nshe had unhesitatingly acquiesced in his wild proposal, preferred that\nthey should travel with the others. Helga was willing to sacrifice\neverything for Leif, even the scent of the pines from the islands at\nhome. But when she gave her brave assent to remain, her self-command\nfailed her a little, and her lips quivered slightly. The whole winter\nshe had looked forward with joy to the moment when she should sail\nbetween the islands to Dalsfjord. Like a secret treasure, she had\nconcealed the consciousness that _that_ was in store for her, in her\nsteadfast heart. That remained there till Leif started with the others.\nBut when he sailed away from the land, the old unrest was again awake\nin his soul.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe brothers were favoured by a good wind as they crossed the sea to\nNorway. Only ten days after they had sailed out between the skerries\noutside the Svanefjords, the vessel lay before Ingolf's house in\nDalsfjord.\n\nWhen they disembarked, it was only Helga who felt as though she had\ncome home. Ingolf and Leif had already separated themselves in their\nhearts from their birthplace, and Hallveig, whose home was wherever\nIngolf was, had never been intimately acquainted with this district.\n\nLeif had already on the return journey expressed his wish to go on a\nViking expedition in the summer. He gave many reasons--among others,\nthat he needed serfs. Further, he alleged that it was the simplest way\nof obtaining goods for their journey to Iceland the next spring. Ingolf\ncould arrange their affairs in Dalsfjord while he was out trading for\nthem both. Leif spoke much about this important trading and about his\nvery inconvenient want of serfs. They were dear to buy, and it was\neasiest to take them where one could find them. All these and more\nreasons were adduced by Leif. But he concealed his real reason for\nthe journey, which was that it was impossible for him to conceive how\nhe should spend a summer at home at Dalsfjord. His blood had suddenly\nbecome restless. His mind was like a bow which had been long on the\nstrain.\n\nHelga, who, as was her way, always left matters to Leif, made no\nobjection to his plan. On the contrary, she gave it her warmest assent.\nBut now it appeared that there would be no more sunshine in the summer\nwhich would be the last she spent at home.\n\nIngolf, for his part, knew Leif. And he was forced to admit that the\narrangement was not a bad one. They certainly needed goods, and would\nobtain them most cheaply by fetching them themselves. For the rest,\nwhatever private plans Leif had in his expedition were his own affair.\nIt was thus already decided on the way that Leif should go on a Viking\nexpedition.\n\nAs soon as they landed at Dalsfjord, Leif set to work equipping himself\nfor his expedition. He was somewhat late in that, and had therefore to\nhurry his preparations as much as possible. He allowed himself leisure\nneither for sleep nor meals. In great haste he collected all the goods\nwhich he and Ingolf had in stock, and loaded his dragon-ship with them,\ntogether with the other ship which he still had in reserve. This time\nhe had to be content with two ships; he could not well man more, and,\nmoreover, they had not goods for more than two.\n\nOnly a few days after his homecoming Leif sailed out again from\nDalsfjord and left Helga alone with the pine-tree scent from the\nislands. Leif did not guess that the pain of separation which left in\nhis mind only a fleeting pang, filled Helga with burning anxiety and\nunrest, which should not vanish till she had him again.\n\nLeif sailed out over the sea and let the sea-breezes, the sense of\nsolitary independence, together with the expectation of dangers and\nadventures, absorb his mind.\n\nHe sailed to Ireland, and traded and ravaged wherever he came. This\ntime Ingolf had forgotten to exact any promises of caution from him.\nLeif had latterly appeared to him so altered that he simply had not\nconsidered it necessary. Leif was therefore completely free, unfettered\nby promises or considerations of any kind. And in the consciousness\nthat this was now the last time he was on a Viking expedition, be\ndisplayed a daring and exuberance in his conduct which filled his men\nwith joy and sent several of them to Odin.\n\nDuring the summer Leif acquired, more by pillaging than by commercial\ngenius, a very large supply of all kinds of goods, mostly valuable\ncloths and metals. In the course of the summer he succeeded in catching\nten serfs--ten wiry, grimy men--who bore names like Duftak, Gerrod,\nSkjoldbjarn, Haldor, Drafdrit, and the like, sour-looking men with evil\neyes, but good enough as serfs, tough at rowing as they sat chained\nto the oars, and enduring in all kinds of work. Luck, which only\nunwillingly forsakes the bold, followed Leif wherever he went. On one\noccasion, towards the close of the summer, it nearly went ill with him.\n\nHe had landed with his men on an apparently deserted coast, which was\nprotected by skerries and rocky islands with strong currents between\nthem--a place which only Leif could think suitable for landing. He\ncaused his ships, loaded with the costly booty of the summer, to be\nrowed in between these skerries, in order to hide them in a rocky\ncreek, which he had selected during a solitary excursion, while he with\nhis men went for a foray in the neighbourhood. For this expedition he\nneeded as many of his men as possible, the object being a very large\nand presumably rich town. Leif left the ships in the creek with only a\nfew men to look over the chained serfs, whom he dared not allow to go\nfree as long as he was so near their native place.\n\nWith the rest of his men Leif went on shore and he be-took himself to\nthe wood. They were all full of great excitement and expectation. This\nwas to be the last great adventure of the summer, and Leif expected\na booty which might perhaps make it necessary to conquer a vessel to\ncarry it in. Time would show!\n\nThe wood they intended to cross covered a steep mountain-side, from the\nsummit down to the coast, and it was traversed by deep, rocky ravines\ncovered with bushes. Leif and his men had not penetrated far into\nthis very impassable wood when they were attacked by an armed force\nfar superior to their own. The people of the town must have had spies\nout along the coast. They were not only outwardly but really prepared\nfor their coming. Leif had just shouted to his men to fight each for\nhimself, first and foremost to get away and save the ships, when the\nenemy was on them with strident war-cries and loud clashing of weapons.\nLeif had no time to see how his men fared. The people of the town had\nat once seen who was the leader, and since it was the leader whom it\nwas the most important to strike, they flocked round him with lifted\naxes and upraised swords. Leif had to sacrifice his spear to one of the\ntwo nearest attackers; the other's head he split with his ax, but next\nmoment a swarm of howling Irish were pressing on him. They did not,\nhowever, surround him, a fact which Leif, who was striking doughtily\nabout him with ax in one hand and sword in the other--his shield he\nhad thrown away--had no time to think about. They pressed him back in\nbetween the trees.\n\nLeif, who at the moment only thought that six was the smallest number\nhe could reasonably take with him to Valhalla, and was still short of\ntwo, suddenly lost his foothold. It happened so unexpectedly that his\nsword dropped from his hand, but with his ax he hooked himself fast to\na tree-root in falling, and there he hung, swinging in the air, over\nthe edge of a ravine. His attackers had raised a great shout of victory\nwhen he fell. They now gathered on the edge of the ravine, stood there\nand laughed at him, and made themselves merry at his plight. They\npricked at him for amusement with their spears, while in loud tones\nthey debated which would be the most amusing way to see him die. A\nproposal that they should slowly prick the life out of him gained the\nday. So they began to prick him in turn, each of them wishing to have\nhis share of the pleasure.\n\nLeif was in a desperate situation. He looked down at the bottom of the\nravine, where there grew heather and bushes. He had no other resource\nthan to let himself fall and see if he escaped with life. He wasted\nno time in reviewing the situation; he simply let go and let himself\nfall. At the moment he fell he perceived that men spread themselves on\nboth sides of him, to find a way down to the ravine and to surround him\nthere if he escaped from the fall with his life and whole limbs. The\nfall absorbed both his body and his thoughts. He turned two somersaults\nin the air and struck against something hard; there was a singing in\nhis ears, and he fainted for a time.\n\nWhen he came to himself again, he was lying on his back in some high\nheather and staring up at the light green leaves on some scattered\nstunted trees. He had a distinct consciousness of danger without at\nonce remembering where it threatened him, and grasped involuntarily\nafter his ax and spear. He grasped in vacancy, and when he discovered\nthat he was weaponless, the whole situation was suddenly clear to him.\nIn an instant he was on his legs, satisfied himself that no bones were\nbroken, picked up his helmet, and, involuntarily stooping to half\nhis height, set off, running as hastily as his somewhat stiff limbs\nallowed, into the thickest part of the wood, and took the way down to\nthe coast.\n\nHe had already run a good way when he heard men approaching, talking\nloudly, farther down the ravine. He halted and stood stiff and\nmotionless. Only his eyes roamed round to seek a hiding-place, but he\nsaw nothing resembling one anywhere. A little hollow in the ground\nclose to his feet might perhaps afford room for his body, but by no\nmeans could it conceal him. With every moment that passed, while he\nstood there without any chance of escape, he could more distinctly\nhear his heart beating. He already imagined to himself how it would be\nto have his entrails drawn out and to be led round a tree. But at the\nsame instant, when he was on the point of giving up and of flying up\nthe ravine where he was quite sure to meet other foes, his eye fell on\na large flat stone. There was salvation! Trembling over his whole body\nwith excitement, he raised the stone on its edge and rolled it towards\nthe hollow. Then he lay down, wrapped his cloak round him, shrunk\nhimself up as well as he could, and pushed the stone right over him.\nThere he lay and heard his pursuers come tramping. From their talk he\nunderstood that they were quite sure that he still lay where he had\nfallen, and feared that he had broken his neck, so that all further\namusement for them was over. All the same, they urged each other to\nhave a good look for him. If they found the red-haired devil, he should\nbe flayed alive. Leif lay there under his flat stone with a corner of\nhis cloak between his teeth. An irresistible convulsive fit of laughter\nseized him and shook his whole body. Every moment he might be prepared\nfor them to raise the stone; he did not know whether it covered him\ncompletely. But here he lay, and there they went, rejoicing at the idea\nof flaying him alive. Less than that was needed to make Leif merry.\n\nThe men passed. Their voices died away gradually farther up the ravine.\nLeif let some moments pass, then cautiously raised the stone. After\ntaking a good look round he set out, crouching as he ran, to the\nharbour. He reached the shore without seeing more enemies. He stood\nfor a little, recovering himself in the cool air from the sea. He was\ntolerably sure that they would remain so keenly on the watch that he\ncould hardly in full daylight get to his ship, if indeed he still had\na ship at all! It was impossible for him to know if things had gone\nbetter with his men than with himself, or if the ships had already\nfallen into the enemies' hands. It was really a nice mess that he had\ngot into! When would he see Helga again?\n\nLeif let his gaze wander over the fjord, and caught sight of an island\nwith some stunted fir trees a little distance out. This island was\nsurrounded by smaller ones, and appeared to him, at that moment, very\nattractive. His enemies would scarcely think of looking for him outside\nthe borders of the land.\n\nLeif did not reflect very long. He hid his cloak, helmet, and whatever\nmight be in his way when swimming thither, piled stones up on them,\nand let them lie. Then he flung himself into the waves. He swam on his\nback the first part of the way in order to be able to keep an eye on\nthe land and to see if he was noticed. He could not see the least sign\nof life on shore. He reached the island safe and sound, and crawled,\nwet and weary, up its smooth, rocky side. He dragged himself under\nthe shelter of a stone where he could lie and let the sun bathe him;\nluckily it shone brightly and warmly, in spite of the lateness of the\nseason. He settled himself comfortably and closed his eyes. Shortly\nafterwards he fell asleep. He awoke from uneasy dreams; the light of\nthe setting sun fell dazzling on his face. He had, then, slept the\nwhole day. And what sort of a coverlet was that which he had over him?\nCloser inspection showed it to be a grey cloak of coarse material.\nLeif looked round him with wide-open eyes, and caught sight of a man\nsquatting a little distance off, and regarding him with mild, attentive\neyes.\n\nLeif did not place much confidence in the mildness of his glance.\nInvoluntarily he felt around for his weapons. There were no weapons\nthere--now he remembered the whole affair--but the man there seemed\nlikewise unarmed. Also, he smiled, and for the rest was so thin and\nwasted that he could hardly be dangerous. What sort of a man was he?\nHe looked ragged and starving. His hair and beard were tangled like a\nbird's nest. There was an atmosphere of death about him. Only in his\neyes and smile was there life--a gentle and, at the same time, intense\nlife.\n\nThe man rose and disappeared behind a projecting rock. Leif thought\nthis very strange conduct, and remembered, when he was out of sight,\nthat he had not heard his step at all. Was he still asleep and\ndreaming? Was it a living man he had seen or a ghost? No, there he\ncame again, whoever he was. He had bare legs, which explained why he\nwalked noiselessly, and, for the rest, appeared altogether wretched and\nharmless. This time he came up close to Leif with some shellfish, which\nhe opened with a practised hand, merely with the help of a sharp-edged\nstone. Leif ate a couple of the shellfish, being ravenously hungry,\nand would have gladly thanked this friendly and strange man, but his\ndisgust was too strong for him, and he declared himself satisfied.\n\nThen the strange man smiled anew, an indulgent smile, and ate the rest\nof the shellfish himself. When he had finished, he asked Leif how he\nwas, if he could rise, and how he came to be lying here on his island.\nLeif trumped up a long story about having fallen overboard from a ship.\n\"The current had seized him,\" he said, \"and carried him hither.\" He\nfound it best at the same time to show the man quite clearly, in order\nthat he might make no mistake, that he not only could rise, but that he\nwas altogether quite sound.\n\nThe man smiled again, whether on account of his story or his slightly\nthreatening gestures, Leif was not sure, and asked him no more, but\nrose quietly and bade Leif follow him. He led him over to the other\nside of the island to the mouth of a little cave. \"I live here,\" he\nsaid in his gentle voice. \"You are the first guest who has paid me a\nvisit, and the only man I have seen for many years. Assuredly God had\nHis special purpose in sending you hither, my brother, however that may\nhave happened. If you will share my cave with me for the night, you are\nwelcome. In the morning you can swim to the shore, if you will, and are\na strong swimmer. You can also perhaps remain here, if you prefer it.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" asked Leif, who, to his astonishment, could\ndiscover neither the roving eye nor mistrustful behaviour of an outlaw\nin this mild, quiet man. \"Why do you live alone on this desert island?\"\n\n\"I serve my God,\" answered the man gently and seriously, making the\nsign of the Cross. Then Leif suddenly became aware that it was one of\nthe mad Irish monks whom he had before him.\n\nFrom that moment he did not fear the man any more. The monks were\npeaceful people, mad though they were. But there was something\nmysterious about the man which caused Leif to feel by no means\ncomfortable in his society.\n\n\"How do you live?\" Leif asked, after a long pause. The man smiled his\ngentle smile, and pointed to a pot-shaped hollow in the rock, which\nstood filled to the brim with sea-water. \"At high tide God sends me\nsometimes a little food,\" he said contentedly, \"or I dive for shellfish\nwhen I am hungry. There is also plenty of seaweed here. I do not need\nmuch. Shall not God who feeds the birds also feed me?\"\n\n\"How do you serve your God?\" asked Leif, growing curious.\n\n\"I pray, fast, and lead a pure life,\" answered the monk quietly.\n\n\"Who is your God?\" Leif questioned further.\n\n\"The one true God, the Trinity--God the Father, God the Son, and God\nthe Holy Ghost,\" answered the monk in his gentle voice, and again made\nthe sign of the Cross.\n\n\"What is His name?\" Leif continued.\n\nHe had sat down on a stone step outside the mouth of the cave and fixed\nhis wondering eyes on the monk.\n\n\"He is called Jehovah; His Son, whose sacred name is Jesus Christ, let\nHimself be born as man, and shed His blood for men, to wash away their\nsins.\"\n\nLeif was silent. He remembered carved and painted images he had seen of\na God they called Jesus Christ. He hung nailed to a cross, with blood\ndripping from His hands and feet, from His thorn-crowned head, and from\na wound in His side. Leif had always despised this God, who, according\nto the narrative, had willingly let Himself be killed and hung up upon\na cross of wood. He did not comprehend the love of such a wretched\ndivinity which could make a man like this monk live his life on this\ndesert island, merely to pray to Him and thank Him. A powerless God He\nmust be--much more wretched than even Odin and Thor. And yet He could\nobtain such power over men.\n\nThe monk had seated himself on a stone directly opposite Leif. The last\nrays of the sun fell on his back, and made his grey hair glow like a\ngolden glory round his head. Leif remembered having seen this gold ring\nround the head, and he sat and began to feel quite strange and uneasy\nin his mind.\n\n\"Shall I tell you about Jesus Christ?\" asked the monk at last, in a\nvoice that was soft and ingratiating like a woman's.\n\n\"No,\" answered Leif, not without a certain fear in his soul, which\ndistinctly betrayed itself in his voice. \"Tell me rather of something\nelse.\"\n\nThe monk sighed sorrowfully. \"As you will, my brother. The Lord is\nmighty, and I am but the least of His instruments. Perhaps He has\nreserved the grace of delivering your soul for another and worthier\nthan myself. What shall I tell you, brother?\"\n\n\"Tell me something about foreign lands,\" said Leif, who had a dim\nconsciousness that there could hardly be anything which this man did\nnot know.\n\n\"I cannot tell you about foreign lands,\" answered the monk gently. \"I\nhave not seen any other country except Ireland. And I do not feel the\nwant of it. The wickedness of the world is great in the lands. The\nDevil rules most lands where people dwell. The Lord has of His mercy\ngranted me this lonely island, and my only wish is to live here in\npeace till He takes me to Himself in His glory.\"\n\nHe was silent for a while, and reflected. \"But I can read to you of a\nplace called Paradise,\" he said, breaking off his meditations. Then he\nrose and crept into the low mouth of the cave.\n\nA little while after he came back with a roll in his hand. When he\nopened it, Leif saw that it consisted of some pieces of skin covered\nover with strange signs.\n\nThe monk sat down and began to read in a monotonous and devout voice:\n\n\"There is a place that is called Paradise. It is not in heaven nor upon\nearth, but between heaven and earth, at an equal distance from both,\nas it was fixed there by God. Paradise is forty miles higher than the\nFlood rose at its highest. Paradise is of the same length and breadth\non all sides. There is no hill nor valley there. There comes never\nfrost, there falls never snow. The earth is luxuriant and fruitful\nthere, but there are no evil beasts nor dangers nor defects of any\nkind. There is a pure well, which is called the well of life. There is\na splendid and beautiful wood called 'Radion saltus,' the leaves of\nwhich never fade. Each of its trees is straight and round like a spar,\nand so high that the top is invisible. There are all kinds of trees\nwhich stand in complete beauty and bear all manner of blossoms and\nbeautifully coloured apples and fruits of all kinds. There no leaves\nfall from the branches. The wood stands in the midst of Paradise. One\nof the fruit trees was forbidden to Adam; in its fruit was hidden the\nknowledge of good and evil. There is neither hate nor hunger, and never\nis there night nor darkness, but always perpetual day. The sun shines\nthere seven times more strongly than in this world, for its light is\nincreased with the light of all the stars. There walk Angels, keeping\nall things in order in joy and pleasure. Thither have the souls of good\nmen gone (and shall go and dwell there till Doomsday) since God opened\nthe place when He took thither the soul of the Thief who died upon the\ncross.\n\n\"In Paradise there is a bird which is called the Phoenix. It is very\nlarge, and wonderful is the fashion of its creation, and it is the King\nof all birds. It bathes in the well of life, and then flies up on that\ntree which is the highest in Paradise, and sits in the sun. Then it\nshines with a light like that of the sun's rays. Its whole body gleams\nlike gold, its feathers are like God's angels, its breast is beautiful,\nand its beak resembles its feathers. Its eyes are like crystal, and its\nfeet like blood. But when this beautiful bird, the Phoenix, flies from\nParadise to the land of Egypt and dwells there five weeks, all kinds of\nbirds gather there and sing round it in all manner of ways. Then the\nmen who dwell there hear that and gather round it from everywhere, and\nspeak as follows: 'Welcome, Phoenix, to our land! Thou shinest like red\ngold; thou art the King of all the birds!' Then the people of the land\nmake another phoenix of wax and copper which resembles the old one as\nmuch as possible. All the birds fall at its feet and honour it with a\nglad voice. Along its back there runs a red stripe, beautiful as burnt\ngold. When its fifth week is passed, the beautiful Phoenix flies again\nto Paradise. All the birds fly with it, some below it, some above it,\non both sides. But when they cannot follow it any longer they return\nhome.\"\n\nThe monk paused and looked at Leif, who sat bowed opposite him with\nopen mouth and eyes. When the monk saw how absorbed his hearer was, he\nsmiled and continued:\n\n\"It happened four thousand years before the birth of Christ (one\nmillennium had passed) that the Phoenix had become old, and gathered\nround it a great number of birds, in order to bring together a great\npile of fuel. But by God's will it happened so that the sun shone on\nthe pile of fuel and the sun's warmth kindled a fire in it. But the\nPhoenix fell in the midst of the fire and was burned to ashes. But the\nthird day afterwards it rose from the dead and was young again, and\nwent to the Well of Life and bathed. Then its feathers grew again, as\nbeautiful as they had ever been. It becomes old in the course of a\nthousand winters, then it burns itself again to ashes, and rises each\ntime young once more. But no one knows, except God alone, whether it is\na male or a female bird.\"\n\nThe monk stopped. The sun had gone down, and the dusk of twilight\nfilled the air. He could no longer see to distinguish the characters.\nHe rolled up his skin-scroll carefully together and tied a band round\nit.\n\nLeif had swallowed his words to the end with eager ears. At the same\ntime the monk's droning way of reading had had a soporific effect upon\nhim. When the monk was silent for a moment, Leif gave a deep yawn and\nfelt a strange weariness in all his limbs. The next moment he fell\nasleep where he sat, with his head propped on his hands.\n\nThe monk let him sit and sleep while he uttered a long and humble\nprayer to God, that it might be granted him to save this heathen's soul\nfrom destruction and the outer darkness.\n\nThen he awoke Leif gently, and bade him follow him into the cave and\nshare his straw bed and his cloak with him, for it was now cold outside.\n\nLeif awoke and saw that it was already night, with a pale glimmer of\nthe moon behind black clouds. Now the time had really come. But he was\nnot a little curious to learn more about the monk's cave, and, besides,\nit was perhaps best to let him fall asleep before he left the island.\n\nThe monk struck a light and kindled a shaving. Then he crept into\nthe low mouth of the cave. Leif crept after him, and the first thing\nhe set eyes upon was a magnificent sword with a golden hilt and gold\ninlaid blade. It stood set up against the wall in the inner-most part\nof the cave. It was the most beautiful sight which at the moment could\nmeet Leif's eyes, and it was impossible for him to avert his gaze\nfrom the shining sword. When he noticed the monk's look fixed on him,\nhe compelled himself to ask, in an indifferent tone, how it was he\npossessed such a valuable sword, as he was so poor and peaceful.\n\n\"That sword I inherited from my father,\" answered the monk gently and\nas it were apologetically. \"I brought it with me here so that it should\nnot do more harm than it has already done among men. I first intended\nto throw it into the sea, but it is so splendid. I have never been able\nto bring myself to do that, and it does no harm here in my cave.\"\n\nHe took it in his hand with obvious tenderness, and showed it to Leif.\nLeif dared not touch it for fear of betraying his covetousness.\n\nThe monk stood and contemplated the sword, and said, as though\nreflecting: \"They who slay with the sword shall perish with the sword.\"\n\nLeif believed that he was pronouncing a spell which belonged to the\nsword, and smiled incredulously. Immediately afterwards he threw\nhimself down on the pallet of straw, as though he were weary and\nsleepy, and only thought of rest.\n\nThe monk replaced the sword, put out the light, laid himself down at\nLeif's side, and arranged his cloak over them both, so that his guest\nhad a brother's share. Leif lay wide awake, wondering whether he should\nsucceed in finding his men, and whether he should see his ships again.\nSoon afterwards Leif heard the monk snoring, and began to twist and\nturn himself, to see if that would wake him. No, the monk slept deeply\nand soundly; his snoring filled the cave with the peace of sleep and\nnight.\n\nThen Leif rose stealthily from the pallet, groped his way to the sword,\ntook hold of it, although with a little prick in his conscience,\nand crept on all fours noiselessly out of the cave, followed by the\nunconscious snoring of the monk. When he stood outside in the dark\nnight, he raised himself erect and breathed freely. He was not at all\nsure whether he still had his ships and men, or whether all his men\nwere killed, and the ships taken possession of by the enemy. But he\nagain held a sword in his hand. Leif only stopped for a moment outside\nthe mouth of the cave. Then with long, noiseless strides he crossed\nover the island and plunged into the water. He held the sword between\nhis teeth and swam as best he could.\n\nLeif found his cloak and other articles of clothing where he had left\nthem. He had much feared lest they should be gone, and the discovery\nof them have served as a guide to the enemy. He put his clothes on and\nthen began to listen intently in all directions. When he could not hear\nany movement or noise anywhere, he set off running along the shore in\nthe direction of the creek where he had left his ships. The last part\nof the way he crept through the wood. He reached the creek without\nhaving come across hindrances of any kind. And out there lay his ships.\nThey were lying farther out than when he had left them, and to Leif it\nseemed a good sign. This time he tied his cloak in a bundle on his\nback, took the sword between his teeth, and, thus equipped, swam out to\nthe ships. He swam as noiselessly and cautiously as possible, so that\nhe might be able to turn quickly if it should prove that it was not his\nmen who were in possession of the ships.\n\nWhen he got within a bowshot of the ships, his old headman gave the\nalarm, and asked in a grim voice: \"Who goes there?\"\n\nLeif answered with a low whistle, which they all knew, and there was\ngreat excitement and gladness on board. He had a rope thrown to him.\nImmediately afterwards he swung himself over the gunwale and stood wet\nand dripping among his men, with a strange sword between his teeth.\n\n\"Leif! Leif!\" they shouted, and all wanted to touch him. Leif asked\nhastily how many men they had lost. It appeared that they had only\nthree killed and two wounded. The rest had got on board safe and sound.\nQuestions hailed down upon him. His men had really not expected to see\nhim again, and were frenzied with delight and impatient to hear what\nhad happened to him.\n\nBefore Leif would tell them anything, he questioned them thoroughly,\nand learnt that they had intended to remain lying here for some days,\nif the weather allowed, in case he should return, or hoping at least\nthat they might learn something of his fate in some other way.\n\nAll the men on board the dragon-ship were gathered in a cluster round\nLeif, their eyes fixed on his splendid sword. Leif took off his wet\nclothes and put on dry ones. Then he crept into his bearskin bag and\nshook himself with a sense of satisfaction. The men took their places\nround him and waited patiently to hear his story. Lying stretched on\nhis back among his sitting men, with the pale moonlight flickering over\nhis face, Leif began his narrative.\n\nHe began with his fall down the ravine. He told them how he had first\nhooked himself firm with his ax, and then had been obliged to let go\nof it and to drop when the men had begun to prick him. He told of his\nawaking without a weapon, and of his flight. He only related briefly\nthe adventure with the flat stone under which he had concealed himself.\nHis men listened, breathless with excitement.\n\nWhen Leif was about to tell of his visit to the cave he suddenly\npaused. He noticed, to his surprise, that he really did not like to\ntell how he had got possession of his sword. But it was precisely about\nthe sword that his men were most curious to hear.\n\n\"The sword?\" asked the old headman in a husky voice, when he had been\nsilent for a while.\n\n\"Yes, now comes the most wonderful thing of all,\" answered Leif\nreflectively. And, staring at the pale sickle of the moon, he rallied\nall his inventive powers and continued: \"I had at last come up out of\nthe ravine and was wandering in the wood. I do not know how long I ran\nabout without an idea where I was. But suddenly I stood at the entrance\nof a great cave in the earth. I slipped into it in order to let the\ndarkness hide me. When I had gone a good way in, I heard a strange\nsound farther on in the cave. I stole forward and caught sight, in the\ndark, of a man who sat and sang. His head waggled forward and backward\nand to the sides, and his song penetrated my bones and marrow. His eyes\nrolled about in his head as though he were possessed. His face was\nyellow and blue, and there issued a strong odour from him, for he was\nnot a living man, but a dead one. A little behind him hung this sword,\nand it shone on the wall of the cave. As I was weaponless, my life\ndepended on my getting hold of the sword. I stole, therefore, farther\non, and succeeded in slipping past him without his noticing me. But,\njust as I was going to seize the sword, I stumbled over a stone on the\nfloor of the cave, and at the same instant I had the dead man on me.\"\n\nLeif was so absorbed in his story that a cold sweat burst out on his\nforehead at the narrative of this imaginary fight. His men listened in\ndeath-like silence, staring at him with wide-open eyes, and pressing\ninvoluntarily closer to each other.\n\n\"So near to the dead I have never been,\" Leif continued, and took\na deep breath. \"You have no idea what power there is in a dead\nman's bones. He crushed me as though with claws of iron. The most\nuncomfortable part was, that wherever I seized hold of him the flesh\nslipped away under my grip, and I held the bare bone-pipes with my\nhands. And there was a most intolerable smell which nearly suffocated\nme. Moreover, the whole time he kept wheezing foam into my face.\" Leif\nstopped with a groan, and with the back of his hand wiped the sweat\nfrom his brow. He lay there white as a corpse, with burning eyes, in\nthe pale moonlight.\n\n\"At last I succeeded in getting him under me,\" he said in a lowered\nvoice, \"and putting out my utmost strength I pushed him against the\nstone he had sat upon, and at last I broke his back. While he lay\nthere, and before I had seized the sword to cut off his wretched head,\nhis rotten tongue continued to spit out curses. I will not repeat them,\nfor they were terrible. Only so much I will tell you, that he said that\nthere was a spell on this sword, that whosoever should kill with it\nshould die with it.\"\n\nLeif's old headman, who during the last part of this narrative had\npanted like a sick man, suddenly sprang up in great excitement. \"Throw\nthe cursed sword overboard,\" he shouted in a shaky voice, with his\nwhole body trembling. Leif reached after the sword, and clutched its\ngolden hilt firmly. \"No!\" he answered decidedly. \"I have risked too\nmuch to gain it.\"\n\nThe old man broke down with a hiccoughing sob, which sent an ice-cold\nshudder through the bones and marrow of Leif and all the rest.\n\n\"What did you do then with the dead man?\" asked one at length, with his\nteeth chattering.\n\n\"I cut his head off and laid it by his feet,\" Leif answered curtly, and\ngave a sigh of relief. Since there was no more to tell, Leif remained\nlying silent. His men continued sitting silent and motionless round him.\n\nLeif found himself wondering that his meeting with the monk had\nsuddenly become so distant and unreal. Was it not something which\nhe had dreamt? How was it, really? Had he not been fighting with a\ndead man? His body was so strangely stiff. And if not, why should he\nhave this smell in his nostrils? Leif no longer knew himself what to\nbelieve. The drowsiness of sleep slurred the clearness of his thought\nand confused the real with the unreal.\n\nThe old man had gradually become silent. For a while he sat motionless,\nwith his head wrapped in a corner of his cloak. Then he let the\ncorner fall and continued to sit and look at Leif. When at last he\nspoke, his voice had resumed its deep, quiet tone. \"In memory of your\nwonderful experience and great adventure, you shall hereafter be called\n'Hjor-Leif,'\" he said solemnly to Leif.\n\nLeif smiled with half-closed eyes; then they closed quite. He slept\npeacefully and calmly as though he had never been engaged in fighting a\ndead man.\n\nHis men remained sitting quite silent around him. They did not talk\ntogether. They had conceived a great fear in their souls which the\nmoon's unearthly light considerably increased. They were simply afraid\nto lie down and close their eyes and fall asleep. They could not\nunderstand how Leif could lie there and sleep so comfortably after such\nan adventure. Their admiration for him had never been greater than now.\nThey would like to know whether he would be afraid to encounter the\ngods themselves. They had never seen fear in his eyes. It was certainly\nright that he should have the sword affixed to his name and be called\nHjor-Leif.\n\nLeif awoke of his own accord at sunrise. Then he saw his men still in\na circle round him. He broke into a loud fit of laughter when he saw\ntheir stupid eyes and faces weary with watching.\n\n\"Beer! Beer!\" he shouted, and sprang up. \"Plenty of beer for all the\nmen! Drink now, boys!\"\n\nHe cheered them up. The most slack of them he whirled round and\ncapsized and thumped till there was a roar of merriment around him.\n\nWhen Leif had emptied a couple of jugs of beer he felt hungry and\ndemanded food. For a whole day and night he had had nothing except two\nraw shellfish, if _that_ were not something which he had only dreamt.\nAt any rate, his hunger was keen and insatiable. With continually\nincreasing wonder his men stood round him and watched him devour a\nhearty meal. He was the only one on board who had an appetite. An icy\ndread instilled by the moonlight still possessed his men like bodily\nnausea. Even the beer which he had given them they drank more from\nobedience than from pleasure.\n\nWhen Leif had made them first stir themselves and then totter a little\non their legs, he set them at the oars and bade them set to work like\nthe boys they were! They should only think of their wives and dearest\nones, and for the rest row as though a dead man were after them. Leif\nhad had enough adventures for the present. Now he wanted to get home to\nNorway.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nHelga, the faithful and anxious, was once more to see the summer die on\nthe fields and in the wood and Leif return home over the autumn sea.\n\nThe foggy, raw, cold autumn day became great and festive when she\ncaught sight of Leif's ship out on the fjord. A red flag waved from the\nmast, a signal which had been agreed upon. There came Leif sailing with\nher happiness on board.\n\nMerely the fact of his being alive was like a boon from the gods. It\nfilled her soul with summer to feel herself warm and living in his\narms. Every time that Leif came home from an expedition, it was equally\nnew and incomprehensible that he lived--lived and was near her again.\n\nLeif came home with spring and renewal of life in his soul. That was\nalways the case with him. The evil and dangerous unrest was gone. He\nhad swept it out of his soul with adventures. Leif was again Leif. His\ncheerful laughter betokened his inner quiet. There was noise and bustle\nwherever he moved, but there was a contented assurance in his voice and\nlook.\n\nTo Helga, at any rate, it seemed worth while to have endured the pain\nof longing and anxiety during the summer in order to have him home\nagain. The eager tone of his voice alone, when he asked questions or\nrelated incidents, made her heart swell with happiness. She could\nforget both to answer and to listen, and just cast herself on his neck\nbecause she must, because it was so delightful to weep and laugh out\nher happiness with his arms round her.\n\nLeif never returned empty-handed from an expedition. Besides the\nserfs and goods which he had this time gained, he had acquired a new\nname--Hjor-Leif.\n\nIngolf, Hallveig, and Helga were all obliged to laugh loudly the first\ntime they heard him called by this new name. Leif began at once to\nexplain eagerly, and with a little embarrassment, that it was not a\nname which he had himself assumed--one of his men had bestowed it on\nhim of his own accord. But it was plain to see that he was proud of the\naddition to his name, and did not like their laughing at it.\n\nThey questioned him with curiosity about the sword which had given\noccasion for the name--a valuable sword which few remembered to have\nseen the like of.\n\nLeif answered with great seriousness that there was a ludicrous story\nconnected with that sword. He had told it once to his men. But it was\nnot a story one went spreading about. He had no intention of repeating\nit. His old headman, on the other hand, was fond of relating it. He\nwas by no means disposed to let Leif's adventure pass into oblivion.\nAnd he related it in such a way that one did not sleep quietly for\nseveral nights after hearing the old man's quavering voice relate\nthe unheard-of terrors which Leif had experienced in the cave. He\ncertainly deserved to be called Hjor-Leif, especially since he himself\nliked it--on that all were agreed, when they had heard of the way in\nwhich Leif had gained his sword. And so from that day he was called\nHjor-Leif, and nothing else.\n\nNeither Ingolf nor any one else doubted that the story was true. The\nsword in itself was sufficient proof. Moreover, it was so entirely like\nLeif not to be satisfied with fighting living men, but also to have to\ntest his strength with the dead, and to come well out of the encounter.\n\nHjor-Leif was, as we have said, not to be persuaded to narrate the\nstory himself. He was not at all fond of being reminded of it.\n\nHis other adventures, small and great, he was generally willing enough\nto relate. And he took them by no means seriously. His description\nof the way he hung out over the cliff, clinging to the handle of his\nax and being thrust at by sharp spear-points, might have made even a\ndead man writhe with laughter, although in itself there was nothing\npleasant in the situation. The Leif who revealed himself behind such\nexperiences, and could relate them in such a light and completely\nartless way--that was the Leif whom Ingolf loved and could not resist.\nFor a long time after he had heard Hjor-Leif tell of the little hollow\nand the flat stone, Ingolf could have a fit of laughter merely by\nthinking of it.\n\nHjor-Leif confided to Helga, and Helga alone, a wonderful story\nregarding which he was not sure whether it was an actual experience or\na dream. Upon an island he had swum to he had met a hermit who from\nsome mysterious characters on some pieces of skin had deciphered a\nlong and wonderful account of a place which was called Paradise, and a\nbird he called the Phoenix. Had Helga ever heard the name of the place\nor the bird? No, Helga had not. And even though Helga in her heart\nthought that there was no limit to Hjor-Leif's possible experiences,\nshe gave it, nevertheless, as her view that it was very likely a dream.\nHjor-Leif also thought it might be. For part of the story or dream was\nthat the hermit had given him shellfish to eat, and that he really had\neaten them. That could in any case not be the fact, for he cherished\nthe most decided dislike to raw shellfish. _That_ must at least be\nsomething he had dreamt.\n\nAll the same, the story about the monk continued to haunt Hjor-Leif's\nmind and disquiet him. For a part of the dream which he had not\nconfided to Helga was--that he had stolen his sword from the monk. That\nwas a bad dream.\n\nWhen Hjor-Leif returned home from the Viking expedition of the summer,\nIngolf had already sold such of their goods and cattle as could not be\nstowed on board the two ships. He had also sold his dragon-ship. He\nconfided in a quiet voice to his brother that he intended hereafter\nto lead a perfectly peaceful life. Hjor-Leif once more remembered\nhis dream of the hermit on the island, and said that he also had had\nenough of these expeditions. They agreed that Ingolf should purchase\nfrom Hjor-Leif his share in the vessel, and that Hjor-Leif should then\nexchange his two ships for a powerful trading-ship. Ingolf had in his\njourneys seen one that might suit him. The matter was arranged, and\neverything was now ready for their departure in the next spring.\n\nIt was the season when the first winter nights were powdering the earth\nwith frost.\n\nAnd now began a lively and unquiet time for the sworn brothers.\nRelatives and friends came from near and far to spend some days with\nthem. The whole of this last winter in Dalsfjord there was a festivity\nand bustle which made them all giddy with hilarity, especially\nHjor-Leif. His irrepressible mood infected Helga. She gave herself\naway and forgot everything, even her most secret troubles--she forgot\neverything in the one fact that she just had Leif. They let day be day,\nand night be night, and merely lived--lived in a state of blissful\nintoxication, which excluded everything except absorption in the\npresent happiness of their souls. Often when Helga was falling asleep,\nshe thought, \"You will not wake in the morning,\" and smiled happily.\nHer happiness was so deep that death and life ran into one.\n\nThere was no pause in the festivities. When there was no feast being\nheld in the house, they and their guests and servants were invited to\nweek-long feasts in other houses. Among their kinsmen and friends there\nwere already at this time many who said that if Ingolf and Hjor-Leif\nprospered in the new land, they also would sell their properties in\nNorway and migrate thither. Norway was no longer what it had been.\nThey knew no longer whether they were free yeomen or King Harald's\nlease-holders. Lately one of Harald's Jarls had murdered Atle Jarl the\nSlender. Haasten held his right and inheritance by Harald's permission.\nAnd there were many situated as he was. Every one who dared to murmur\nhad forfeited life and land. It would certainly be a good thing to find\na free place so far away that Harald's hard arm could not reach.\n\nHjor-Leif reminded Ingolf that he had long fore-told that. There was no\nneed to fear solitude in the new land. Before many years had passed,\nthe whole of the great island would be taken in possession by the best\nmen of Norway.\n\nHjor-Leif spoke contentedly and undisturbedly about the matter. He was\nhimself, as usual, not aware of any responsibility. Upon Ingolf the\nprospects of many following them thither had a different effect. He was\nquite weighed down with a sense of responsibility and anxiety. Was the\nland out there in the west so good that he could justify drawing others\nby his example from their inheritance and the country of their race?\nAnd, above all: _Was_ it the gods' will that he should journey thither?\nIngolf arranged a great Yuletide sacrificial feast. And now he wished\nto ascertain the will of the gods.\n\nOn the first night of the feast he cast lots. Some chips or sticks,\ndipped in sacrificial blood, were tossed in a cloth, and he read off\nthe characters formed by the positions which the chips assumed towards\neach other. Far to the left lay a chip by itself, straight up and down,\na clear character, an \"I.\" That signified \"ice,\" and seemed to mean\nthat he should travel. The next character was even clearer. Some chips\nhad so arranged themselves that they formed the runic character \"F.\"\nThat signified \"cattle\"; goods and wealth. There was no fear of making\na mistake. Ingolf read off still more characters, but they were all\npropitious, with the exception of a single death-rune. Well, one could\nnot escape death by not travelling. That came to each one on the day\nassigned by the fates. Ingolf was reassured.\n\nWinter passed, and the days increased in light and length. Then came\na spring day. It was a warm and festal spring which fell in step with\nwinter's mood.\n\nThe sworn brothers launched their vessel and loaded it with goods\nand implements, men and cattle. Ingolf had taken the pillars of his\nhigh-seat on board, together with all the images of the gods from the\ntemple.\n\nLeif sat doubled up with laughter and watched Ingolf and his men\ndragging with solemn intentness the worm-eaten and bedizened pillars of\nthe gods from the temple down to the ship. Was Ingolf, then, no wiser?\n\nHelga awoke from her trance of happiness as she stood with her hand\nin Hjor-Leif's and sailed out between some small islands covered with\nspruce and fir, from whence a strong pine-scent was carried towards\nher by a gentle breeze. Hjor-Leif felt her hand grow cold in his. He\nclasped the slender fingers more closely. Had he clasped them too\nclosely? Her little hand began suddenly to tremble in his. He looked\ninto her eyes with a searching and slightly troubled look. But there\nwas nothing the matter. She smiled her quietest and happiest smile at\nhim. He kissed her, made her sit in shelter, and wrapped a skin round\nher, so that she should not feel cold. Soon they were outside the\nislands. The wind blew stronger and more steadily. Before the bellying\nsails the two heavily loaded ships steered over a sea blue with spring.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe sworn brothers' ships lay rolling violently, rocking and pitching\nin the heavy swell south of Iceland. The day was calm and warm. High\nlight clouds were spread over the deep blue vault of heaven. The sun\npoured his strong spring light in broad floods over sea and land.\n\nThat day it was fourteen days since they had sailed out from Dalsfjord.\nFor fourteen days they had been in the power of the wind. A storm\nwhich tore the sails and broke the yards had driven them about over a\nraging sea, which ceaselessly sent cold showers of spray over the low\ngunwales. From morning till evening, from evening till morning, four\nmen had stood in each vessel with the two baling scoops, working for\nlife to keep the water out. In spite of being continually relieved\nthe men were at last so worn out and wasted that they could scarcely\neat, and fell asleep and rolled over wherever they sat down even for a\nmoment.\n\nBy continual watchfulness and clever seamanship the brothers had\nsucceeded in keeping their vessels together. Each stood day and night\nat the rudder. Only in the short intervals when the wind turned, or\nthere was a short pause, did they throw themselves down to sleep for\nthe moment as if dead. They had no time to think of Helga and Hallveig.\nHelga was careful not to be in the way. She rendered the small service\nshe was able to do under these circumstances as much as possible\nwithout making herself observed. Hallveig sat with her boy in her lap\nand let the wind blow and the storm rage. She kept her eyes on Ingolf\nand felt safe.\n\nThe sworn brothers fought for life and death with storm and sea. The\ngreat thing was to hold out, not to give up, not to think of anything\nbut what concerned the steering and the quantity of canvas they should\ncarry, not to be wearied, not to lose one's head--to hold out, to hold\nout. It was just this unceasing struggle which kept up their courage\nand spirits.\n\nThe animals were ill and starving; some of them died and had to be\nthrown overboard, others lay in their last agonies, pitiable to see.\nMuch of their corn and other food-stores was spoilt by the dense\nshowers of spray. The fresh water in the casks sank regularly and\nirremediably. The men went about slackly, and had to be kept going with\na hard hand. There was hardly anything on board which was not otherwise\nthan it should be, and giving reason for deep anxiety. But the brothers\nheld out.\n\nWhen at last on the previous day they had seen on the extreme verge of\nthe northern horizon a light from the snow-covered interior of the new\nland like a faint white gleam, each had thought within himself that it\nwas not a day too soon.\n\nDuring the last twenty-four hours the storm had at last slowly quieted\ndown, and now they lay here, held up by a presumably only short calm,\na few hours' sail from the coast, and gazed curiously and expectantly\nover the sea at the land in the blue distance.\n\nThe ships lay side by side, kept in their places by long boat-hooks,\nonly so far from each other as was necessary in order to prevent their\nchafing and injuring their sides.\n\nHjor-Leif and Helga had gone on board Ingolf's vessel in order to\ngreet him and Hallveig and to talk over the situation. All four were\nseated, Hallveig with her little boy in her arms, on the stern poop.\nAfter the severe trial they had passed through there was a silence over\nthem which was difficult to break. They had not yet grown properly\naccustomed to the fact that life and death did not hang on each moment\nas it passed. Therefore they spoke but little. Towards the north-east\nand north-west the soft lines of the slightly rising and falling\nglaciers stood out behind the blue mountains that crowned this flat\nland. The brothers followed the changing contours of the country with a\npeculiar tenderness in their eyes. But their gaze always turned back to\nthe glaciers which shone sparkling white in the strong sunshine.\n\nHallveig and Helga also could not turn away their eyes from the\nglaciers. The few words which they now and then exchanged were said\nin low tones, as if they sat in a temple, and not at sea on a swaying\nvessel.\n\nIngolf and Hjor-Leif had long sat silent side by side, inspecting the\nland with keen eyes. Between a projecting point a long way to the\neast, and another far to the west, there stretched a flat, unbroken\ncoast-line, distinctly marked by a white edge of rolling surf.\n\n\"It will be difficult to land here,\" concluded Leif at last, in a\nslightly hard and irritated tone. \"Also, it seems as if most of the\nland nearest the shore is barren sand.\"\n\n\"There are enough landing-places by the points,\" Ingolf answered\nquietly, \"and behind the sands the land may be good and fertile, even\nclose up to the glaciers. We saw that on the eastern side last summer.\"\n\nIngolf was in secret rather disappointed that they had not found the\nSvanefjords again. But he did not speak about it. It was not possible\nto look for them now. At present, the great thing was to get on land as\nquickly as possible, and almost anywhere, so that the men and animals\ncould have a good rest and recover.\n\nThe sworn brothers had agreed that they must settle for the summer\nand the coming winter on the spot where they landed. Afterwards they\nmight look out for a permanent residence. Ingolf had very decided views\nwith regard to the choice of a dwelling-place. These views, however,\nhe had not yet confided to Hjor-Leif, nor to any one else. The matter\nconcerned the gods, and in all that concerned them his brother's\nattitude was a foregone conclusion. Hjor-Leif, on his part, only\nthought of finding a pleasant and fertile spot, preferably by the sea,\nand protected by the mountains, where he could feel himself at home and\nbe comfortable.\n\nFor a long time they sat in silence, each deep in thought. Ingolf\nreflected how he had best communicate his plan to Hjor-Leif. He saw\nat once that it was no good to be silent about it longer. For already,\nbefore they departed from here, it must be put into execution. He sat\nand felt rather perplexed inwardly, and could not find words.\n\nAt that moment Hjor-Leif was sitting and reflecting over an experience\nwhich he had had the previous night. He had lain asleep in his bearskin\nbag while his old headman took charge of the tiller. Suddenly he\nstarted up from sleep, having certainly dreamt of something or other he\ncould not remember, and as he did so he collided with a man who must\nhave been stooping over him. It was one of his Irish serfs, Duftak,\na man whose evil eye had followed him since he once in wrath had\nstretched him on the ground with a well-deserved blow. Hjor-Leif was\nnot certain, but it seemed to him that the serf had thrown something\nor other which he had in his hand overboard, just as he had stumbled\nagainst him and stood opposite him. He thought he had heard a little\nsplash as when a hard object strikes the water. But he was by no means\ncertain of the matter, and neither the serf's eyes nor his behaviour\nhad betrayed anything. He had asked him what he was doing here, and it\nseemed that he had come to look after a roll of rope which lay close\nby. Hjor-Leif had had his thoughts occupied the whole day by this\noccurrence. He had already observed for a long time that the serf's\neyes followed Helga wherever she went and stood, with an evil and at\nthe same time covetous look. He could not understand why he had not\nalready thrown the serf overboard, and why he did not intend to do so.\nHe was quite sure that it was not from fear, although there seemed\nto be a peculiar understanding among his Irish serfs. It was rather\nbecause he could not do without serfs, and because if he killed one of\nthem it would be safest to kill them all.\n\nAt length Leif unwillingly shook these thoughts off, and asked curtly:\n\"We shall sail southward, I suppose, when the wind gets up again?\"\n\nIngolf was silent. It was certainly about an equal distance to the two\npoints, and he had a very great desire to seek a landing-place near the\nmore easterly of the two.\n\nInstead of giving a direct answer, he began cautiously: \"I have\nthought, brother, that I for my part will let the gods decide where I\nshould settle in this new land.\"\n\nLeif, whose temper at the moment was a little off its balance because\nof the incident with the serf, gave a hard laugh: \"How will you go\nabout it?\"\n\nIngolf pointed to the pillars of his high-seat, which lay lashed\ntogether with strong skin straps above a pile amidships.\n\n\"I will throw the pillars of my high-seat overboard. Wherever they\ndrift to land, I will settle.\"\n\n\"Even if they drift to land in the middle of the sands here?\" asked\nHjor-Leif incredulously and a little scornfully.\n\n\"The gods will know how to find the place where it will be best for me\nand my family to settle,\" answered Ingolf, undisturbed. \"I lay with\nconfidence the choice of a dwelling in their hand.\"\n\nHjor-Leif was silent for a long time. There was a hard and pitiless\nline round his large mouth. There was Ingolf again with his cursed\ngods! At last he spoke, without looking at anything: \"Instead, then,\nof our choosing a place for ourselves where the earth is fertile and\nluxuriant we are to settle wherever it pleases the wind and current to\nwash up a pair of dead planks on shore.\"\n\nHe talked himself into a bad temper. And he wound up bitterly: \"We\nshall hardly be neighbours, then, brother!\"\n\nIngolf sprang up from his place. He was on the point of giving an angry\nanswer when he remembered suddenly a snowy day when he and Hjor-Leif\nhad ridden alone over a desolate heath. He shut his lips tightly, and\nstood for a while silent, leaning against the tiller. In his eyes\nthere was a seeking look which wandered in perplexity over the water.\nThe sun's glimmer dazzled his eyes. He could not find a word kind and\ncautious enough to answer with. But his resolve stood immovably firm.\nSuddenly he collected himself, and, calling a couple of his men, bade\nthem take the high-seat pillars down from the pile and lay them on the\ngunwale. So he stood for a little and let his hands glide carefully\nover the age-browned wood.\n\nHjor-Leif sat watching with a hard, evil look in his grey eyes.\nCautiously Ingolf let the pillars glide overboard. He remained\nstanding, and followed them with his eyes as they lay there floating on\nthe bright, oily water. Hjor-Leif could only see his back. There was an\nair of decision and resolve about that back which irritated him still\nfurther. Hallveig and Helga had followed the conversation, and now sat\nsilent and anxious, not daring to look at each other. Helga did not\nat all reflect which of the two was more in the right. She was simply\ntroubled. In her gentle mind there rose a strange, impotent fear which\nmade her heart beat heavily and painfully.\n\nHallveig, on the other hand, was at first in her inmost heart on the\npoint of justifying Hjor-Leif. At the first moment it appeared to her\nthat one's own eyes' choice of a dwelling could always be as good as\nthat of blind gods, nay, really much safer. But when she had sat for a\nwhile with her firm, open gaze fixed on Ingolf's back, a change took\nplace in her mind. The air of security and assurance which was about\nher husband's whole person, and which his back just now so distinctly\nexpressed, had an unconscious effect upon her. She understood all of\na sudden that it was just this sign from the gods which was needed\nin order to attach her husband's heart firmly and unbreakably to his\nnew home. There, where the pillars of his high-seat drifted on shore,\nIngolf would feel himself at home with all his soul and in spite of\nreason. The gods' choice of the place would give his strength and\nwill the firm ground without which, in spite of all his strength, he\ncould not thrive. On a spot so chosen Ingolf would force happiness and\nprosperity to dwell in the face of every imaginable difficulty. For in\nalliance with his gods he was invincible.\n\nHallveig sat there and became assured and peaceful in mind.\n\nShe understood that it was from an unwaveringly sure and wise instinct\nthat Ingolf acted when he cast the pillars overboard. It was of vital\nimportance to him to feel himself in covenant with his gods and in\npossession of their favour.\n\nHallveig stooped over her little boy and kissed him on the forehead,\nand remained sitting for a while with bowed head, lest any should see\nshe had tears in her eyes.\n\nWith beating heart Ingolf stood and watched his treasured pillars\ntossed by the billows, lightly, aimlessly, as though they were ordinary\npieces of driftwood. It was not without severe internal conflicts that\nhe had resolved to deliver his dearest possession to the power of the\nsea. But here life was at stake. It was not only a matter of finding a\nplace where his cattle could graze and his house stand, but of finding\nexactly _that_ place which the gods willed to grant him and his family.\nThe place where they could know he would stay for the future. The place\nwhere his and his family's happiness and prosperity were not only under\nhis but under their care and responsibility.\n\nWhen Ingolf had stood for a long time watching the pillars, which\ngradually drifted astern in an easterly direction, his displeasure\ntowards his brother disappeared. He turned slowly, and, with a peculiar\nsmile upon his young face towards the others, went quietly and seated\nhimself by the side of Hjor-Leif.\n\n\"What do you think of our choosing the eastern point as a\nlanding-place, brother?\" he asked in a quiet and friendly tone.\n\nThe question irritated Leif. There was no talk of choice; it was merely\na question where a piece of driftwood should decide their landing.\n\n\"I have already for my part chosen the west,\" he answered firmly, and\nat the same time as quietly as he could, and not without a certain\nsatisfaction at the effect of his words.\n\nBut it was not only on Ingolf that Leif's answer had the effect of\na well-directed blow. Both Hallveig and Helga felt that here was\nsomething evil and dangerous going on. Quite involuntarily Helga called\nHjor-Leif's name in a supplicating tone. She had no idea of wishing to\ninfluence him in the least degree. She knew him, and was aware that it\nwas hopeless. The word fell like a prayer from her gentle and anxious\nsoul. In one hot wave the blood mounted to Hjor-Leif's head when he\nheard Helga's voice. \"You can remain with your brother, since you\nprefer that to following me.\" The bitter words leapt from his mouth.\nHelga broke down in a heavy and despairing fit of weeping. Leif sat\nmotionless, and apparently un-moved. But in his breast there tore and\ntugged a fierce and intolerable pain which was not far from making him\npowerless. It was not at all, as it now appeared, a sudden whim which\ncaused him not to wish to have Helga on board again. It was the scene\nby night with the serf, Duftak, which from the beginning had given rise\nto the thought in him that Helga would be really safer on Ingolf's\nship. Some vague and groundless presentiment or other, which made him\nstill more sensitive and impatient, told him that there was danger in\nthe journey for him and Helga. It was nothing but pure tenderness for\nHelga which made him resolve that they should part before they were all\nquite on shore. This time he had not thought of parting from Ingolf.\nBut in a moment Hjor-Leif was completely in the power of his restless\ntemperament which, as so often before, distorted his words and actions\nand drove him to hasty resolves. To separate from the others, and seek\nanother landing-place, with the prospect perhaps of not seeing them\nfor a whole year, was for him a much greater trial than for Ingolf,\nto whose equable temperament a year's separation contained nothing\nunthinkable or alarming. Hjor-Leif could really not imagine how he\ncould hold out merely a month, much less a whole year, without them.\n\nAnd if he now chose to land in another place than Ingolf, each for the\npresent would have to remain where he landed. But it was completely\nimpossible for him to expose his dependence and pain at parting. He\ncould neither humble himself nor subdue his spirit so far as to enable\nthem to discuss matters reasonably. As soon as the fateful words were\nout of his mouth he was helplessly in their power.\n\nWhile thoughts and feelings were rushing like violent streams through\nHjor-Leif's lacerated soul, Ingolf had already succeeded in reviewing\nthe matter reasonably. In separation there was the advantage that the\none who first found a landing-place could, by kindling a fire on his\npoint, inform the other, who perhaps would be seeking a landing-place\nin vain, where he could look for one. Ingolf, with a seaman's practised\neye, had long before discovered that the coast here was difficult,\nnot to say impossible to land on. It confronted the open sea. The\nheavy swells, which were certainly almost always prevalent here, would\nshatter any ship that tried to land on the sands. It was by no means\nunlikely that the character of the coast near the two points might be\nequally difficult. And it was impossible to know if the coast east or\nsouth of the points was better. Since Leif now wished it, Ingolf had\nfor his part nothing against their separation, for some days or for a\nyear, as it might happen. He therefore quietly proposed that whoever\nfirst succeeded in landing should kindle a fire on his point as a\nsignal to the other. The latter could then make for that place, if he\nhad not found another harbour before, or in the contrary case might\nanswer with a fire on his point.\n\nHjor-Leif briefly agreed to this arrangement. It was he who had settled\nthat they should separate, and yet it was a severe disappointment to\nhim that it was now finally decided on. \"I may come southward in the\nspring, if I have not by that time found my pillars,\" said Ingolf\nquietly, when the matter of the fires had been settled. \"But if I\nshould not come, I will send you a messenger, if I have not heard from\nyou before.\"\n\nHjor-Leif nodded curtly. It was incomprehensible to him that Ingolf\ncould sit there and talk so quietly, as if nothing had happened between\nthem and everything was all right.\n\n\"If you find my pillars,\" Ingolf continued, with the same immovable\ncalm, \"take good care of them, and let me know of the discovery as soon\nas possible.\"\n\nHjor-Leif made no answer. Internally he swore that if he had the luck\nto find the infernal pillars it would be a joy to him to let the fire\ndevour them.\n\nAll conversation gradually died out among the four persons who sat\nthere, swinging on the sea, swayed by the balance of fate, each mind\nfilled with its characteristic inner thoughts, peace or unrest, wearing\npain or assured contentment--sat there in the grip of their own souls\nand of blind powers, while the brilliant spring day glided into a\nlight, soft night.\n\nThe red sun-gold over the sea in the west faded and died away into\nother and colder colours. The world was new and strange, and charged\nwith presentiment as always on the boundary between day and night. The\nfour sat there, and let the day go and night come over their peaceful\nor irritated silence. Ingolf's little boy, Thorsten, slept quietly\nin his mother's bosom. All around was quiet. Peace was there for\nwhomsoever had a mind to receive it. The brothers sat side by side,\nyet each in his own world. Ingolf, as always, kept his mind collected,\nwas his natural self, and knew it. Just as he ate what nourished his\nbody of the good things of sea and earth, so his mind absorbed whatever\nbenefited him from the changing moods of day and night, sea and heaven\nand earth. Everything else remained lying untouched and harmless\noutside the tightly closed circle of his mind.\n\nWith Hjor-Leif it was otherwise. He had no collectedness in his mind.\nEvery kind of experience or mood which approached him was seized by the\ntentacles of his restless heart. Evil and good, health and injury--his\nhungry nature swallowed and satiated itself with all, without any other\nresult than merely to increase his burning desire for something--a\ncondition or an experience--he knew no name for it. In a measure he was\nhimself just as Ingolf was. But his self was volatile and difficult to\ngrasp. It died away in grief and gladness, as though it were a part of\nthem.\n\nThus the night passed. And when day again bordered the east, it was\nfollowed by a gentle breeze from the sea which could be used for\nsailing equally westward or eastward.\n\nHjor-Leif rose and heaved a heavy sigh in the cool morning air. His\nlast hope: A stiff breeze from the west, which would oblige him\nto follow his brother, was gone. Helga and Ingolf both rose with\nHjor-Leif. Helga went to him, put her arm round his neck, and pressed\nclose to him. No prayer came from her lips, but her whole soul was a\nprayer.\n\nHjor-Leif examined his mind and found a fear there--some misty\nforeboding of impending disaster, which determined him to stand firm,\nto be hard both towards himself and towards her.\n\nHe responded to her caress, but not in the whole-hearted way which\nwould allow him to forget his words and revoke his determination not to\nlet her follow him. There was a distinct air of separation in his kiss\nand in the gentle passing of his hand over her luxuriant fair hair.\n\nSo Helga gave up her hope and submitted silently to his will, as she\nhad always done.\n\nHjor-Leif silently gave Hallveig his hand in farewell. She looked\nfirmly and inquiringly at him, and pressed his hand silently. There was\nsomething about Hjor-Leif, the man who was so unlike Ingolf, and whom\nshe did not understand, that stirred something in her heart.\n\nWhen he had left her, she suddenly called after him: \"Good-bye,\nHjor-Leif, till we meet again. We shall take good care of Helga.\"\n\nHjor-Leif turned towards her with a forced and wry smile on his\nirregular features--a smile which betrayed such a pathetic and\ninvoluntary gratitude that, immediately after he had turned and gone,\nHelga fell into Hallveig's arms, and both wept. They had suddenly\ndivined, with the sure instinct of women, that it was out of tenderness\nand love that Hjor-Leif had let Helga remain behind. There was much in\nthe whole sudden arrangement which they did not understand, but this\nthey did.\n\nIngolf followed Hjor-Leif to the gunwale amidships. The men were\nengaged in drawing the ships close together with boat-hooks. The\ndistance between them had gradually become so small that he could soon\nspring over into his own ship.\n\n\"I do not rightly understand why you let Helga remain behind,\" Ingolf\nsaid at last, when Hjor-Leif already had his foot on the gunwale.\n\nHjor-Leif paused, and stood still a little, without meeting Ingolf's\nsearching look. \"I cannot give you any reason,\" he answered at last,\nand the hardness and gruffness in his voice spoke of feelings of quite\nanother sort in his heart, \"except that in my judgment it is the best\nfor her.\"\n\nIngolf's whole bearing clearly showed that the answer did not satisfy\nhim.\n\nHjor-Leif became irritated. \"I have ten serfs and only ten freemen,\" he\ncontinued in a firm and rather annoyed tone, for he did not like, not\nonly before Ingolf, but also before himself, to clothe his forebodings\nin such a distinct shape. \"I cannot always be at hand, and the serfs\nare not reliable. I may fall sick and misfortune come upon us. Many\nthings may happen. Are you satisfied?\"\n\nHjor-Leif's tone was still equally hard and unyielding. But Ingolf\nhad seen through him, and smilingly reached him his hand. Hjor-Leif\nsqueezed it with his iron claw so that it hurt, and stood meanwhile\nwith averted face; his features worked visibly, and he bit his lip till\nthe blood came. Hastily he let go of Ingolf's hand, and at the same\nmoment sprang into his own ship.\n\nImmediately afterwards Ingolf heard his voice from it. It was cuttingly\nsharp, and rose higher and higher in a torrent of words. It soon\nappeared that Hjor-Leif had quickly succeeded in putting life into his\nmen. Soon after, his ship, with sail hoisted, glided away before the\nlight breeze.\n\nIngolf stood and thought that such a lonely year might do Hjor-Leif\ngood. He would be a different man the next time they saw him. Ingolf\nonly lent a momentary hearing to the voice of a strange wounded and\ngroundless sense of loss in his soul. Quietly he turned round, roused\nhis tired men mildly, and bade them hoist sail and make the vessel\nclear.\n\nAs early as the next night Hjor-Leif saw a fire shine from Ingolf's\npoint. So Ingolf was already on land, and everything was right there.\nHjor-Leif had not fared so well. The westerly breeze he had so strongly\ndesired had come when he had no more use for it. It had come too late,\nand very inopportunely. After forty-eight hours he lay here pitching\nin the choppy seas, tacking as well as he could without getting much\nnearer his object. There was not a drop of fresh water on board. The\nIrish serfs had discovered how to knead meal and butter into a mess\nthey called _mintak_, and declared that it was a food one did not get\nthirsty by eating. None the less, all were suffering with thirst, and\nthe animals were in a miserable condition, unable to swallow a straw of\nthe hay they had brought with them. The _mintak_ quickly fermented, and\nthe whole mass had to be thrown overboard.\n\nIt was only Hjor-Leif's wretched and indomitable obstinacy which\nprevented him from taking advantage of the wind and quickly running his\nship to Ingolf's point. By doing so all his sufferings would have been\ngot rid of at once. It needed only a little resolution, a slight change\nof mind. The wind was there, the light was there. The fire gleamed\nand beckoned. All was well so far. The only difficulty was that the\ndeciding little possibility was wanting--the possibility of Hjor-Leif's\nbending his mind the little bit that was necessary--the possibility of\ngiving way. In Hjor-Leif's volatile soul there towered a steep rock.\nHe would see his animals perish of hunger and thirst, his crew perish\none by one, and himself die by any death whatever rather than turn his\nvessel and use the favourable wind.\n\nAt last, on the evening of the third day, a little rain fell, and\nHjor-Leif succeeded in collecting some water in the outspread sail.\nThat refreshed both men and animals. Not till four days after Ingolf\nhad kindled his fire did he see a fire burning in answer on Hjor-Leif's\npoint. When he told Helga that, she went up on the point, sat by\nherself, and stared fixedly at the faint red light, sometimes hardly\nvisible, far to the south-west. There she remained sitting for two days\nand nights, as long as Hjor-Leif kept up his fire in order to be sure\nthat it should be seen.\n\nIngolf and Hallveig had at last begun to be anxious for Helga, for she\nate nothing, did not sleep, and hardly answered when they spoke to her.\n\nBut when after these two days spent up there on the point she returned\nto the tents, she was herself again, and had recovered her old\nself-command. There was nothing to show either Ingolf or Hallveig that\nshe carried about a burning sense of bereavement. Neither did they know\nthat she lay whole and half nights sleepless, breathing in fancy the\nrich, delicious scent of pine trees.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nFor the second time in his life Hjor-Leif lost his spirits completely.\nAfter closer reflection he found his lonely situation so meaningless\nand unjust, so devoid of all reconciling elements such as, for example,\na prospect of adventures or opportunity for exploits--in brief, so\nutterly irrational, that he involuntarily began to show his teeth at\nexistence by drowning himself in perpetual melancholy, only now and\nthen interrupted by isolated attacks of ill-temper.\n\nThe days encountered him heavily and sulkily. It seemed as if all their\nendeavours were directed to show him in earnest _how_ empty and tedious\nand intolerable they could be, if they seriously set about it. The\nbright, cloudless summer days sneered at him when they met him with\nice-cold scornful light from sunrise to sunset. Grey and rainy days, on\nthe other hand, showed him without disguise their dull side. Hjor-Leif\ncould not come to an agreement with himself which of the two kinds of\ndays was really the more intolerable. They were all alike impossible.\nThe one point he was clear about with regard to the days was that he\nhad without doubt still the worst remaining. He cursed them with oaths\nwhich were powerful both in length and strength, and derived from an\ninexhaustible supply. But they were no help--not even momentarily. In\nthe battle with the days he suffered one defeat after another; they\nwere far stronger than he. They were invincible. And they possessed,\nalthough he daily experienced that, in spite of all, they did pass, a\npeculiarity of appearing endless, which deprived him of all hope.\n\nHjor-Leif tried in every way to put a little meaning into them.\n\nHe set his freemen to build a winter dwelling, a house nineteen fathoms\nlong. It was to contain them all, together with their wives. He had\nonly taken young, newly married people with him from Norway, with the\nsingle exception of his old headman. Hjor-Leif did what he could to\ntake a little interest in the work. But it was only self-deception. The\ndays did not for a moment let go their wild-beast clutch on his neck.\n\nHe set the serfs to build a house eighteen fathoms long, and\nbullied them till they quailed and shivered and fell into helpless\nembarrassment merely at the sight of him. Yes, he instilled a wholesome\nterror into the Irish serfs. They slunk about, and hardly knew whether\nto walk upright or on all fours. And they had no eyes--at any rate,\nthere seemed no more any sight in their eyes. Regarding them, he\nfelt sure that he had made them harmless for ever. But it brought\nhim no comfort either to treat them like dogs or to realize their\nharmlessness. That did not bring a spark of his spirits back. There was\nnothing to rouse them in that quarter.\n\nOne of the items in Hjor-Leif's despairing and hopeless struggle with\nthe days was going along the shore and choosing driftwood for his\nbuildings. When he found a stout, solid plank, he marked it with a\nstroke of his ax; then he bade the serfs find the planks so marked and\nbring them home.\n\nSometimes in these wanderings, Hjor-Leif found himself standing and\nhewing wildly and meaninglessly at a plank, as though his life depended\non cutting it into a plaything for the winds. Whenever he awoke\nfrom such an attack of frenzy he looked round him with a shamefaced\nexpression, and began eagerly, with a strong sense of humiliation, to\nefface the traces of it, watched by the evil eye of a hostile day.\n\nHjor-Leif had one hope, and only one. His longing, strongly reinforced\nby his despair, had treated with the rocky pride of his soul, and the\nresult was a reasonable agreement.\n\nTherefore he went everywhere and searched for Ingolf's high-seat\npillars. Not in order to do away with them by means of fire, but to get\nan excuse for seeking Ingolf at once, and so obtaining an honourable\nand acceptable victory over all that pained and plagued him. Hjor-Leif\nwanted to see what the day would look like when by finding the pillars\nhe was able to escape from his wretchedness with a bound.\n\nThis hope sustained him. But day after day passed without his finding\nthe pillars. Not even the sea and tides were friendly disposed towards\nhim. He talked in a loud voice with the sea, and reminded it of all\nthe honourable bouts they had had with each other. But either the sea\ndid not hear or would not recognize him. It had perhaps become hostile\ntowards him, like everything else in heaven and earth. Hjor-Leif had\nbeen as far eastward along the coast as the impassible glacier streams\nwould let him go. Now he turned westward. He took food with him, and\nremained away four days and nights. During his expedition he came to\nknow a new part of the country which he liked, and where he could well\nimagine himself settling.\n\nBelow the green mountains, which first in a steep ascent and then\nwith a more gradual incline rose towards the white glacier which with\nits two domes reminded one of a female giant's breasts, the low land\nstretched with fertile meadows and picturesque bush-covered valleys and\nluxuriant pastures towards the shining sea. In the south-west green\nprecipitous isles rose from the sea. Hjor-Leif gave the mountains names\nafter these islands, which simultaneously limited and enriched the\nview, and called them Island-mountains. The western dome of the glacier\nhe named the Island-mountains' Glacier; the eastern he had already,\nafter a more eastern district, baptized Myrdals-Glacier. Hjor-Leif did\nnot turn round, for he saw the land open into a wide bay towards the\nwest. He examined the shore outside the Island-mountains and Myrdal\nvery closely. It was a great disappointment to him that the pillars had\nnot drifted on shore here.\n\nHjor-Leif returned home from this excursion still more taciturn and\ndepressed than he had started. Wearing unrest received him with open\narms every morning and did not release him from its evil embrace till\nsleep at night had pity on him.\n\nHe set some of his men to get in hay, others he made go out fishing,\nthe rest he kept occupied with the houses. It was an insignificant\nalleviation of his trouble to see his men busily occupied. For himself\nhe had no patience for anything. On the walks which he now and then\ntook along the coast to assure himself if the pillars had not drifted\non shore in his immediate neighbourhood, he was no more accompanied by\neven the smallest hope.\n\nDuring these walks Helga was always in his mind. But not openly and\nconsciously--he scarcely had patience enough to think of her in that\nway. No, secretly and hidden away she lived in his mind. Through\nmemories and reminiscences she was near to him, without his being\nobliged to face the fact that they were divided from each other by a\nlong distance and a sea of days, and that this separation was due to\na stupid and certainly quite groundless foreboding. He carried these\nmemories about very tenderly and cautiously, without any intention\nof letting them slip quite out of the fog of unconsciousness. As a\nman dying of thirst sips dew, he cheated himself into a reminiscent\nhappiness. It was a dangerous proceeding. For _if_ he woke from the\ndream, his agony flung him on the ground in a passion of tears,\nunworthy of a man, and which, moreover, brought no relief.\n\nHjor-Leif became at last weary of the sea and shore. He turned his\nmind against them and made enemies again--evil emptiness and helpless\nmelancholy--Nature's immovable answer to all discontent. So Hjor-Leif\nbecame hostile to all things round him. The echo of his own mind met\nhim everywhere and tortured him as only self-inflicted pain can torture.\n\nHe extended his lonely wanderings to the wide-stretching pastures,\novergrown with spreading coppice-wood, which reached from his point\nright up to the blue mountains. But also in this region he soon became\nhomeless. His inner want of peace drove all peace around him away.\n\nWhen winter came, Hjor-Leif sat like a bear in his lair, alone with\nthe fire and his half-share of the nineteen-fathom-long house. It was\nuncomfortable near him. Therefore his men kept together in their\nend of the house, even though no fire burned there. They were newly\nmarried, and felt neither cold nor dull.\n\nThe serfs slunk in now and then, by twos, with fuel for the fire.\nThey shivered, and came hurriedly away from their task, even though\nHjor-Leif sat with his head in his hands and did not look at them at\nall.\n\nHjor-Leif was poor now. He was so poor that he caught himself longing\nfor the break in the evening's brooding silence, which the serf's\ncoming caused. So poor, that in order not to betray his poverty he\nshowed himself perverse and ungracious towards his old headman, when\nthe latter once overcame his embarrassment and, out of devotion and\nsympathy, sat with him one evening. Either he was silent with the old\nman in his own comfortlessness, or he pained him with scornful words\nand malicious laughter. The old man could not understand how Hjor-Leif\nhad lost all his good temper and indomitable spirits, unless the evil\nspirits of this strange land had deprived him of them. He could not\nendure this land where Hjor-Leif, his favourite, had neither living nor\ndead foes to fight with. There were plenty of wizards and goblins here,\nas he had himself experienced. There was an unearthly life in the rocks\nand heights. But these were creatures without value for a man eager for\nbattle. One could not attack them weapon in hand. The sacred iron could\nonly protect one against them, and keep them out of the house.\n\nHjor-Leif's old headman fought bravely with his fear and discomfort for\nan obviously bewitched man. But there came an end, and he also gave up\nHjor-Leif and let him sit alone by the fire.\n\nFor days and nights together the storm and hail beat on the house with\nhowlings and threatening hootings. The winter days were often only an\nindistinct glimmer. And in the uncanny winter night all evil spirits\nwere loose.\n\nHjor-Leif sat through the long evenings in his bitterness alone by the\nfire. And even the fire, his only friend in the wintry emptiness, now\nshowed fits of enmity, and spat out evil smoke which struck his breast\nlike a tearing cough.\n\nHjor-Leif sat most often with his face in his hands. By doing so he, as\nit were, shut himself into himself, and cheated in a measure the evil\npowers in him and round him. But there was a danger in thus sitting\nhugging his pain. Solitude used the opportunity to whisper words of\nmadness in his ear. And often Hjor-Leif was near forgetting himself,\nand beginning to listen to its alluring, unbridled talk.\n\nBut then sleep came, and saved him, and gave him some hours'\nforgetfulness. A forgetfulness which, however short it was, armed him\nfor the morrow's encounter with a hostile, desolate, and lonely day.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nNow there is this to be told of Ingolf, that when he had found a\npracticable harbour, and unloaded his ship and drawn it on land, he set\nhis men immediately to work at building winter dwellings for men and\nanimals.\n\nHe himself rode about on horseback, followed by a young serf, Vifel,\nwho had grown up in his father's house, and whom he valued greatly. He\nexamined the district, and took long rides along the shore to look for\nthe pillars of his high-seat. He made use of his opportunities, and\nwas satisfied. The district suited him in many ways. From his point he\ncommanded a wide view eastward and westward along the coast--the most\nextensive view he remembered to have seen.\n\nSome distance inland, exactly opposite the point, divided from it by\nluxuriant pasture-land, there rose a steep, high mountain. On both\nsides of it the circle of mountains retired, on the south-west side in\na wide curve. Behind this mountain rose the glacier, a gigantic pile of\nice glittering white in the distance, which sent wrinkled feelers down\nall the ravines as if to taste the lowland. Remarkably enough, no cold\nemanated from this huge mass of ice; on the contrary, it seemed to warm\nthe air, perhaps by attracting all the bad weather and cold to its far\nsummit, which was only seldom visible. On both sides of the point there\nstretched barren sand along the coast intersected by countless glacier\nstreams. These sands in some places spread themselves inland till they\nmet the edge of the glacier. But the wide-stretching pasture-land along\nthe mountains, which this barren sand surrounded, was of a peculiarly\nrich fertility. There was abundance of coppice-wood, which in places\ngrew close up to the glacier and presented a singular appearance.\nThe cattle throve well here. The air was full of warm moisture, and\nwas suitable for grass and cattle and men. Ingolf had to admit that\nthe summer was better and the soil more luxuriant here than in the\nSvanefjords. At the same time, he wished his pillars would drift ashore\nin the Svanefjords. And in this Hallveig was one with him.\n\nSecretly he derived not a little hope from the circumstance that\nthe pillars had apparently taken an eastward direction when he saw\nthem drift away from the ship. Who could say?--perhaps it was to the\nSvanefjords! He did not dare to wish anything in that way; it was for\nOdin to decide it. And it would be presumptuous of him to wish to\ninstruct or to influence the One-eyed with the ravens. But many things\npass through one's thoughts which one cannot control. Odin must know\nthat and would excuse it.\n\nIngolf endured the suspense for two months. Then he prepared for a long\nexpedition with his serf, Vifel. Hallveig did not like this journey.\nBoth Ingolf and his men had told her so much about the impassable\nglacier streams. Ingolf, however, quieted her by promising to show\nall possible caution. But he wished to go and look for himself in the\nSvanefjords.\n\nIngolf and his serf rode over the sand-dunes. On each sand-hill sat\na gull. Full of an injured sense of proprietorship, the birds sat\nthere and followed silently with an inscrutable look these strange\nanimals who brought disturbance into the landscape. These sands were\nintersected by a countless number of powerful glacier streams. But\nfortunately the glacier proved passable in that part, so that Ingolf\nand his companion succeeded in circumventing the rivers in that way.\n\nOn the evening of the second day they were again stopped by a glacier\nstream as broad as a fjord, and with a treacherous bottom of fine sand.\nIt traversed the district Ingolf and Leif had penetrated on their\nexpedition southward from the Svanefjords the previous summer. Ingolf\ntried to circumvent it in the same way as he had the other river. But\nhere the glacier was so full of deep crevasses along and across its\ncourse, that after many vain attempts he had to give it up. There was\nnothing for it but to turn round and put off the examination of the\ncoast till the winter had bridged with ice the impassable rivers.\n\nThe remainder of the summer passed in winter preparations of all kinds.\nThere were plenty of things to take in hand and look after.\n\nIngolf kept an eye on his sister, Helga, and showed her great\nfriendliness in his words and behaviour. He could not exactly ascertain\nthe real state of her feelings. She was quiet as ever, and all smiles\nand good-humour. She played with the boy, helped Hallveig, and there\nwas apparently nothing in the least the matter with her spirits. But\nIngolf had now and then, early in the morning, before any one else was\nup, surprised her standing staring with a long look towards the distant\nmountains that showed bluish in the south-west. In that direction lay\nHjor-Leif's point, although so far away that it could not be discerned.\nIt cut Ingolf to the heart to see his sister stand gazing so--her face\nwas so unusually pale in the mornings, and her blue eyes darker than at\nother times, as though shadowed by a twilight below them.\n\nHe had been many times on the point of telling her about the last\nwords he had exchanged with Leif. For he knew that she was not aware\nof Hjor-Leif's real reason for letting her remain behind with himself\nand Hallveig, and had no idea what she thought about it. But on further\nreflection he gave up the thought of telling her every time. Perhaps\nby doing so he would only cause her unnecessary anxiety and sorrow.\nShe would certainly hardly be so quiet as now, if she were seriously\nanxious for Hjor-Leif. Best not to interfere with her thoughts. For his\nown part, Ingolf was not for an instant afraid of anything happening\nto Hjor-Leif, though he agreed with him that it was best not to\nexpose Helga to the results of any conspiracy among the serfs, which\nhe might well have reason to fear. But Ingolf knew Hjor-Leif. Even\nif his brother had been alone with the ten seditious serfs he would\nnot have felt anxious for him. Hjor-Leif was on the watch, and he had\nsuccessfully managed worse situations.\n\nThe winter began with slight frost and much snow. It was past Yuletide\nbefore the rivers were frozen.\n\nAs soon as possible, Ingolf equipped Vifel and another of his serfs,\nnamed Karle, and sent them eastward along the coast with orders to\nexamine closely every creek and every promontory, and not to return\ntill they had inspected both Svanefjord's, except in the event of their\nfinding the pillars before.\n\nThe serfs experienced wretched weather, with snow-storms and intense\nfrost. They remained away for two weeks, and returned hungry and weary.\nThey had examined the coast-line as far as north of the Svanefjords,\nbut seen nothing of the pillars anywhere. When they had informed\nIngolf, he heaved a deep sigh and gave up the Svanefjords.\n\nHe allowed the serfs time to rest and recover after their severe\nexperience. Then he ordered them to get ready again. This time he gave\nthem horses and sent them westward along the coast. He enjoined them\nnot to return till they had found Hjor-Leif. If they had not found\nthe pillars before they met him they were to tell Hjor-Leif to come\nwestward with his men and cattle as soon as summer was in the air and a\nsea-passage was safe.\n\nBut spring came this time earlier than it was expected. Already in the\nnight before the serfs started, a warm and strong south-west wind began\nto melt the snows and melt the ice that covered the rivers. The serfs\nonly succeeded in passing the nearest rivers on ice. By the second day\nthey could neither get forward nor backward by reason of furious rivers\nwhich carried huge volumes of muddy water and great blocks of ice.\nBut they had to push on, and did so with the horses' help, although\nthey often wasted days in finding a ford, and sometimes had to let\nthemselves be dragged through the water, hanging on to the horses'\ntails or manes. It was the worst journey that Vifel and Karle had ever\nbeen out on, and it was only due to Vifel's endurance and fidelity\nthat they went forward and escaped with their lives. On the way they\nmet men--Irish monks--who here far inland had built a temple with a\nbrazen voice which shook the air. The monks questioned them, and seemed\ndispleased with what they had to narrate.\n\nThey did not show them much friendliness. But Vifel and Karle were\neternally thankful for merely escaping with life from these strange men\nwho were in covenant with a god, the sound of whose voice alone cast\nthem terror-struck to the earth.\n\nAt last the serfs reached Hjor-Leif's point. They had been fourteen\ndays on the journey. They found the houses empty and the place\nforsaken. They went down to the shore and found the ship. The boats, on\nthe other hand, were gone. Not the slightest sign of life was visible\nanywhere.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nHjor-Leif saw the winter come to an end at last. He lay one night and\nheard the tone of the wind change. He knew the eager and implacable\nvoice of the south-east wind. It did not surprise him then to hear a\ndripping indoors and out.\n\nHis heart began to beat a little as he lay there. But he lay still,\ndid not jump from his bed, did not run to salute the spring and bid\nits warm wind take the bad weather from him, as in other circumstances\nhe would have done. There was not much left of Hjor-Leif's strength\nnow. He did not awake with the spring. Generally he was accustomed to\navoid the house when spring had first come. But this time he remained\nwithin, sick in mind, and without power to shake off the burden of\nwinter and his bereavement. He remained sitting indoors while the young\nyear awoke the earth from winter's sleep, without paying attention to\nit. That was not like Hjor-Leif. Indeed, it was so unlike him, that\nhis men avoided each other's looks and did not speak about him. He got\nout of his bed each morning with a sigh, clothed himself wearily, and\nwent slowly and sluggishly out to see how far the spring was advanced,\nand if the weather held. If it was bright he went up on the point and\nlooked eastward over the land and over the sea. Then he went home\nagain, dragging his feet like an old man or an invalid, and wrapped\nhimself in his solitude and waited. It was still too early in the year\nfor Ingolf to be coming--Ingolf and Helga.\n\nHe hardly dared to think of her name. The very thought scorched and\nburnt his wounded soul that by this separation which he had insisted\non he had caused Helga fresh grief. His own sufferings were indeed\nbitterly deserved--that he had to acknowledge--but that did not make\nthem any easier. The thought made the wilderness of his soul even\nmore desolate. Self-caused, self-deserved, every torturing day, every\nsleep-forsaken night, every suffering, every whip-lash of longing,\naltogether self-caused, without reason and to no use. That was bad\nenough to think about. But it was worse with Helga--Helga who might\nhave reason to believe that he had left her behind in cold blood, and\nto think that perhaps he looked forward without longing to seeing her\nagain. The thought was so intolerable that at times it seemed as if his\nhead would split and his heart stop beating. These and similar thoughts\ntortured Hjor-Leif, but he sat and let the tedious hours pass.\n\nOutside, the spring winds raged, while he sat within. The spring's\ngladness found no way to his soul. His exhausted heart could not\nwelcome the days in its embrace and rejoice at the prospect of soon\nmeeting Helga.\n\nHjor-Leif used every opportunity of bullying the serfs. He heaped on\nthem kicks and blows whenever the fancy took him, and often without\ncause. He hated these serfs, who crept before him like vermin, so\ndog-like and abject that they did not dare to show the glances of\ntheir eyes. His fear of their combining and attacking him and his men\nhad long ago died out of his mind to the last spark, and it seemed\nto him now both ridiculous and incredible that he had ever cherished\nsuch a thought. These abject animals, these crook-backed creatures!\n_Their_ fault it was--all that he had had to suffer this year. And they\nshould pay for it! To the end of their wretched days they should pay\nfor it! Blows they should have--blows and kicks. He would fill their\ncurrish hearts with never-appeased fear. He would not kill them; they\nshould live and suffer. In all that concerned the serfs, Hjor-Leif was\nimplacable. He had succeeded in inspiring them with such terror that\nthere was not a look in their eyes, nor speech in their tongue, save\nwhen they were alone and sure of not being seen or heard.\n\nAs soon as the earth was released from the frost to a spade's depth\nHjor-Leif set his serfs to plough a piece of pasture-land west of the\npoint. They had an ox to draw the plough.\n\nAnd now the serfs' time had come. Duftak, who had many kicks and cuffs\nto avenge, had hatched a plan. The opportunity was ready to hand.\n\nWhen Duftak and another serf went off in the morning with ox and\nplough, he gave the other serfs a signal. They had knives and clubs\nhidden here and there. Now these were produced and concealed in their\nrags. The serfs were ready.\n\nAs soon as Hjor-Leif's free men had gone into their morning meal,\nDuftak stabbed the ox with a knife in its neck and set out running home\nwith the other serfs close on his heels. Breathlessly Duftak burst in\nto Hjor-Leif, and stammered, apparently in the greatest terror: \"A\nbear! A bear!\"\n\nThe serf's fear seemed quite genuine. Hjor-Leif seized him by the neck,\nshook him, and quickly learnt from him that a bear had come out of the\nwood and had killed the ox.\n\nEverything happened as Duftak had foreseen. Hjor-Leif let him go,\nstrangely enough without the usual kick, shouted to his men, and bade\nthem follow him and look for the bear, and scatter themselves well in\nthe thickets, so that the beast should not escape. Then he seized his\nax and spear and ran.\n\nAh, this meant something for Hjor-Leif. His heart was again in its\nplace, and beat gladly and quietly. The bear came as though sent by\ngood fortune itself. His soul expanded with a great and happy sense of\nfreedom. He sprang like a boy out of doors, and forgot in his haste to\ntake his sword with him.\n\nDuftak only hesitated a brief moment--then he seized the sword and ran\nafter Hjor-Leif. He had undertaken to tackle him by himself alone, and\nthe sword was better than his short knife.\n\nEverything happened as Duftak had calculated--while his men dispersed\nin the thicket, Hjor-Leif ran to the ox. Duftak had counted on this\ncuriosity in his master. He knew that he _must_ see how the bear had\ntreated the ox, before he began the pursuit. Hjor-Leif set off in long\nbounds, light at heart and untroubled. The old love of adventure had\nawakened in him. He was too much absorbed to notice that the serf was\nclose at his heels.\n\nHjor-Leif reached the ox, stopped and started, bent down over it,\nthen slowly raised himself. His thoughts stood still for a moment in\nsurprise. What was this? The ox had been stabbed. Was the story about\nthe bear only a lie? He turned quietly and as though stupefied, and\nlooked round him.\n\nJust opposite him stood Duftak, with Hjor-Leif's sword lifted--the\npoint quivered straight in front of his breast.\n\nThe recollection of the monk's saying flashed through Hjor-Leif's\nmind, like a momentary weakness and irresolution. Then--before he\nknew it--the gold-inlaid blade of the sword flashed, and he collapsed\nwith a chill sensation between his ribs--a strange, not uncomfortable\nsensation, which, however, was immediately followed by a pang and a\nloud crash, in which earth and sky disappeared.\n\nAs Hjor-Leif sank, a lightning thought reminded him that Helga was\nin safety. Ah, Helga was safe! A dim consciousness that he had not\nsuffered in vain settled like a faint smile on his large mouth. The\nblood poured steaming and gushing out of his neck. And so the world\npassed from him....\n\nHjor-Leif had lived, and life had done with him. He had paid the price\nof life, as was meet and right.\n\nOnce more the mistletoe branch had struck down the invulnerable.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nOne night towards morning Ingolf was awakened by the tramping of\nhorses' hoofs. He had begun to be anxious lest the serfs, who had been\naway the best part of a month, might have perished, and, springing out\nof bed, dressed quickly and threw a cloak over him.\n\nYes, it was Vifel and Karle home at last. When he came out, they were\nstanding outside in the half-light night and talking softly together.\nThey had not yet taken the saddles off the horses. Their manner showed\nclearly that they were the bearers of evil tidings. Both turned their\nheads when Ingolf opened the door, but remained standing irresolute,\nand forgot to salute.\n\nIngolf stood still for a moment. Then he went up to them, greeted them\nquietly, and bade Karle take the saddles off the horses and go and\nsleep. \"You had better not talk to any one,\" Ingolf concluded, turning\nto Karle. Then he laid his hand on Vifel's shoulder and led him round\nbehind the house. There they could best stand and talk undisturbed.\nVifel was so silent that stillness seemed to envelop him like an\ninvisible vapour in the air.\n\nWhen they had come to the back of the house, Ingolf let go of Vifel's\nshoulder and leaned against the wall of the house. His first heavy\nforeboding had quickly turned into a dawning certainty--a certainty\nwhich all but overpowered him. For a few interminable moments he\nremained standing there, leaning against the wall, and staring to\nthe eastward, where a faint flush on the steel-blue vault of the sky\nannounced the coming of the sun. He avoided looking at Vifel, whose\nexpression and behaviour so inexorably revealed what had happened.\nHe shrank from having his last despairing hope annihilated. He must\nhave an interval before he could endure to have his fears, his all but\ncertain foreboding, confirmed by the pitiless word.\n\nThe sun rose and was free of the clouds on the horizon before his mind\nhad slowly reached the point that uncertainty was intolerable to him.\n\nHe cast a glance at the serf. Vifel stood and wept, silent and\nmotionless. The tears ran in streams over his cheeks, and left light\nstreaks behind them.\n\n\"What have you to tell?\" Ingolf asked at last, with forced quietude.\n\n\"Hjor-Leif's death,\" stammered the serf, with chattering teeth.\n\nThere was a long pause. Ingolf had bowed his head, and stood with\nclosed eyes and compressed lips. He wept.\n\nAt last, without raising his head or opening his eyes, he gave the serf\na sign to continue.\n\nVifel finished weeping and began stammeringly: \"When we came to the\npoint we found the houses empty. We saw no one anywhere. We found the\nship in its place down by the shore, but both boats had gone. We\nbegan to search the fields and the undergrowth round the point. First\nwe found Hjor-Leif. He lay in a field near the house by the side of a\npiece of ploughed earth. He had been killed by a stab in the breast.\nWe continued searching, and found gradually most of his men, scattered\nabout in the undergrowth, all dead. Some of them had been obviously\nstabbed from behind, others had many wounds, which witnessed to a fight\nhaving taken place. The serfs and women we saw nowhere.\"\n\n\"Hjor-Leif had a foreboding of that,\" was the thought that passed\nthrough Ingolf's mind when the serf was silent.\n\nIngolf remained standing quite still. His heart hammered and beat,\n\"Leif! Leif!\" At last he lifted his head and looked round him with\nweary eyes. His look had become very desolate. Otherwise there was\nnothing to notice in him, now that there was no more doubt and the\nfirst strong burst of grief was over.\n\nIn a quiet voice he questioned the serf more closely, and learned that\nhe and Karle had buried those of Hjor-Leif's men whom they had found.\nHjor-Leif himself they had covered and left lying where they had found\nhim.\n\nA strange slackness had come over Ingolf. Now and then he roused\nhimself and put a question to the serf. Each time the serf had\nanswered, there was again a long pause.\n\nIngolf gradually got an account of their journey. Vifel told him of the\ndifficult rivers, of the monks and their temple, and how he and Karle\nhad caught and killed one of Hjor-Leif's sheep, which they had found in\nthe thicket, as food for their home journey.\n\nHelga was up this morning early as usual. She was generally out before\nany one else, especially when the weather was bright. It was in the\nearly morning that she could best go out, unseen and undisturbed, to\nstand and gaze towards the distant mountains in the south-west which\nhid Hjor-Leif in their blue mist.\n\nThis morning, as soon as she stepped out of the door, she heard quiet\nvoices behind the house. She could not distinguish words, but only\nheard the sound. This half-heard conversation filled her at once with\na peculiar fear, and when she recognized Vifel's voice her heart beat\nviolently. A vague alarm filled her breast and rose choking to her\nthroat. For some time she remained standing and could not move from\nthe spot--stood leaning heavily against the house-wall, and pressed\nher hand to her heart. Then the voices were suddenly silent. There was\nstillness behind the house. What could Ingolf and Vifel have to talk\nabout in such a tone? Why had Ingolf not roused her at once? She knew\nhow restlessly he was expecting the serf's arrival.\n\nAt last Helga dragged herself the few steps round the house. She both\nhoped and feared that she must have made a mistake--that it was not\nVifel's voice she had heard. But she _must_ have certainty. Her fear\nwas crushing her.\n\nYes, there stood Vifel, and there stood Ingolf. Helga only needed to\nsee them; the first glance told her everything. Ingolf immediately saw\nhis sister, and by a powerful effort succeeded in collecting himself\nand going quietly towards her. As he went, he said quietly to the serf:\n\"Go and sleep, Vifel. You are a free man.\" Vifel departed silently. He\ndid not take the opportunity to thank Ingolf. His highest hope was at\nlast and unexpectedly fulfilled, yet he wept as he went.\n\nWhen Ingolf had reached his sister he stood still in perplexity.\nThere was in her look a mingling of prayer and certainty which made\nit impossible for him to say anything. There was a restlessness about\nHelga which made it impossible for her to stand still.\n\n\"Let us go,\" she said appealingly. Side by side brother and sister went\nover the ground without speaking a word.\n\nWhere the coppice wood began, they turned and went back towards the\nhouses. So they continued walking to and fro, silently, side by side.\nThe sun had risen, and already stood high.\n\nIngolf's men, who had learnt of Hjor-Leif's death from Vifel, kept\nwithin doors. None wished to disturb Ingolf and Helga. Hallveig had\nbeen out and glanced towards the pair. Then she had slipped in again to\nher boy. Helga's grief made her very heavy at heart.\n\nTo and fro, keeping step, Ingolf and Helga went. Helga felt as if\nshe could not stop. As long as she could walk so, keeping herself in\nmovement, it seemed as if there was nothing which had ceased--ended. So\nlong as she had heard nothing, perhaps nothing had happened. There were\nlife and happiness at stake in continuing to walk--to walk, and not\nstand still.\n\nThere was no sobbing in Helga's breast. It was so empty within. A\nclammy pressure held her heart imprisoned in apathy. There were no\ntears in her eyes. She was far past the narrow limits of weeping. Only\na great and threatening stillness and emptiness in her soul, and round\nher a waste wilderness that would swallow her as soon as she stood\nstill.\n\nAt last she was so exhausted that she had to drag herself forward with\nthe help of her brother's arm. Ingolf helped her, supported her, and\nheld her up. He was in great distress. She walked there quivering on\nhis arm, and he had no comfort to give her. Such heavy hours Ingolf had\nnever experienced. He forgot his own sorrow: it was as nothing beside\nhis sister's mute despair. His whole soul was engrossed in her. His\npowerlessness, his complete perplexity, his lack of any word to comfort\nher, drove all other feelings out of his mind.\n\nAt last Helga had to give up. Her strength was spent. Exhausted, she\nsank in his arms. He laid her carefully down, and she remained lying\nwith half-closed eyes, breathing heavily and slowly; then she fell\nasleep. Ingolf remained sitting by her side and gazing intently on her\npale, tired face. She continued sighing in her sleep. Ingolf could not\ntake his eyes from her. \"This was what Leif feared,\" was the thought\nthat echoed within him. There were not very many thoughts in his brain,\nstunned as it was by his own and his sister's grief.\n\nWhen he had been sitting thus for some time, Hallveig came out to him\nfrom the house with her boy on her arm. She could no longer endure the\nloneliness. She sat down silently by Ingolf's side. Her eyes were\ncircled with red rims, and there was a peculiar wry smile on her face,\ncalled forth by the struggle to keep her tears down. When she had sat\na little and looked at the sleeping Helga, she could do no more; she\nleant her head against her husband, hid her face, and wept.\n\nLittle Thorsten prattled cheerfully, and struggled to get down to\nHelga. Ingolf had to begin to play with him in order to make him sit\nstill. The child's untroubled chatter cut him to the heart.\n\nHelga slept but a short time. Suddenly she opened her eyes, rose\nabruptly, and looked about her in bewilderment.\n\n\"What is this? Why am I lying here?\" she asked in an astonished voice.\nAs soon as she spoke, she felt a choking in her throat, and remembered\nall of a sudden what had happened, and why she lay there. Then she\ncollapsed with a groan, and remained sitting for a while with her face\nhidden in her hands. Then she straightened herself abruptly.\n\n\"How did it happen?\" she asked in a hoarse, uncontrolled voice, and\nlooked straight in front of her with a hard expression on her young\nface. And when Ingolf did not answer at once, she added in a still more\nunrestrained tone: \"Tell me at once!\"\n\nIngolf told her, hesitatingly and in disconnected words, that his serfs\nhad found Hjor-Leif and his men dead. It looked as if Hjor-Leif's Irish\nserfs had killed them.\n\n\"But the women?\" Helga asked in the same tone as before.\n\nIngolf gave it as his opinion that the serfs must have taken the women\nwith them to whatever hiding they had sought. He added a few cautious\nwords to the effect that he had grounds for supposing that Hjor-Leif\nalready a year ago had been afraid of what had now happened, and that\ntherefore he had let her remain with him and Hallveig.\n\nThen Helga laughed, if the sound which issued from her throat could be\ncalled laughter.\n\n\"It is all the same now,\" she said in a hard voice.\n\nThen she collected herself and stretched out her hand toward the child.\nFor a while she sat stroking his hair and trying to smile at him. Then\nsuddenly she gave Hallveig the boy and looked up at her brother with a\nlook that revealed all her hopeless despair without disguise, and said:\n\"I want to see him. Can we not go there?\"\n\nHer voice was hoarse and passionate as before. There was nothing to\nrecall her former soft and gentle tone, but the hardness was gone.\n\n\"We will go as soon as we can,\" answered Ingolf quietly.\n\nHelga rose impatiently. She was a little unsteady on her legs, but\ndeclined all support both from her brother and her sister-in-law.\n\n\"Let us not waste time,\" she said irritably, and stumbled towards the\nhouses.\n\nIngolf and Hallveig followed her in silence. Hallveig took the boy on\nher arm again.\n\nThat same day the ship was launched. Day and night they worked with\nfeverish haste to load it. The next day it lay ready for sea, and in\nthe evening the weather was fair for sailing.\n\nIngolf wondered a little at Helga. She did not weep. She did not seek\nsolitude. She went about among them much as usual--did her accustomed\nwork, took charge of the boy, and helped Hallveig. Only the change\nin her voice and her strange, fixed look betrayed her grief--a grief\nwhich made Ingolf fear, and troubled him more than any weeping and open\ndespair.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nThe next day at sunrise they were there. Helga was supported by her\nbrother to shore on the slender landing-plank. When she stood on the\nshore before Hjor-Leif's point and looked over towards the houses, her\nstrength failed her for the second time. She could do no more. She\nleant against her brother to save herself from falling. He put his arm\nround her and led her to a stone where she could sit and recover her\nstrength. There she sat down, and remained sitting, staring out over\nthe sea, that lay resplendent in the glow of sunrise, but her eyes\nsaw nothing. A light morning breeze played with her hair and gently\ncaressed her pale face.\n\nIngolf stood by her side, waiting. Since she so much wished to see\nHjor-Leif he would not oppose it, but he wished to follow her and be\nnear her.\n\nHelga had forgotten him, and why she sat there. For the moment she\nremembered nothing except that she was alone and had Hjor-Leif no more.\nThere were times when this fact seemed incomprehensible. If Hjor-Leif\nwas dead, why was she alive? She did not understand that. But so it\nwas--she was alive. And die she could not. Death would not come to her,\nthough she prayed for it to all imaginable Powers.\n\nWhen Ingolf had stood for a while motionless by her side, he bent down\nover her and said quietly that he must go for a little to give his\nmen orders. Helga started when he spoke to her, and looked hastily up\nat him with a terrified look in her eyes. Then she came to herself,\nremembered why she sat here, why Ingolf stood waiting for her, and\nshe seized his hand. She sat for a while holding it convulsively in\nhers and moaning softly. Then she said in that strange, distant voice\nwhich quite seemed to have displaced her own: \"Ingolf--I cannot, after\nall--let me just sit. I cannot rise. Ah, I can do nothing,\" she said,\nhalf-wailing, and hid her face in her hands.\n\nIngolf stood a little irresolute; then he bent over her and said\nsoftly: \"I will come again and fetch you.\"\n\nShe nodded impatiently with her bowed head, as if begging him only to\ngo--to go!\n\nAs soon as she no longer heard his steps she began a low, heart-rending\nwail. Ah, she had no hope now. Her heart was dead. But she lived, and\ncould not die.\n\nIngolf went back to the ship, helped Hallveig and her boy on shore, and\nasked Hallveig to look to Helga while he went and buried Hjor-Leif.\nThen he told Vifel and several of his men to take spades and a bier and\nfollow him. The others he set to work unloading the ship.\n\nIngolf was quite composed now. The stamp of the resolute firmness,\nwhich was the real expression of his character, was more distinct\nthan ever before. He had reconciled himself to his brother's death\nas a healthy man reconciles himself to the inevitable. He had sought\ncomfort in his faith, and had eradicated all despair from his mind, so\nthat only a healthy, hardening, beneficial pain remained behind. He\nremembered the death-rune among the omens at the sacrificial feast; it\nhad then pointed at Hjor-Leif. Yes, Fate shields a man till she strikes\nhim--nothing can alter that. Against Fate even the bravest fight in\nvain. Not even Odin can shake the sentence of the Norns.\n\nSuch were Ingolf's thoughts as, with a composed mind, he went to carry\nout his last duty to his brother.\n\nThere had been an old agreement between him and Hjor-Leif that, if\nIngolf died first, Hjor-Leif should inter him in a funeral barrow with\nexact observation of all the ritual of the Ase-religion. In return,\nIngolf had pledged himself, if he were the survivor, to bury Hjor-Leif\nin the ground without any kind of solemnity. All that Hjor-Leif wished,\nwhen he no longer lived, was to be buried in a dry spot, at the depth\nof a man's stature, and to lie there with clean earth round him. It was\nno more than reasonable that he should have his will, though Ingolf in\nhis inmost heart felt a strong impulse to inter him in a barrow and to\ndo him all the honour which became a chieftain.\n\nThe birds were singing in the dewy morning when the sailcloth with\nwhich Vifel had covered Hjor-Leif was lifted. Their song sounded all at\nonce piercingly in Ingolf's ears. He stood for a while and looked at\nhis brother's decomposed remains. He had seen many dead men, without\nbeing specially moved thereby. But now his self-control deserted him a\nmoment. He wept. When he had grown calm again he made the sign of the\nHammer over the body, and said softly, as though to himself: \"A mean\nfate here befell a good man, that a serf should cause his death, and so\nit will happen to each one who will not sacrifice to the gods.\"\n\nHjor-Leif's corpse was laid on the bier, and Ingolf covered it with\nhis cloak. Then he went on ahead up to the point to seek for a\nburying-place. Step by step the men carried his brother's body after\nhim.\n\nIngolf quickly found a place towards the south and the sun. The grave\nwas dug, and Hjor-Leif was lowered into it, wrapped in his brother's\ncloak. Then they cast clean earth over him, and trampled it well down.\n\nIngolf remained standing by the grave till his men had gone. Then he\nspoke for the last time to his sworn brother. \"Hjor-Leif,\" he said with\nemotion and in a natural tone, as though he were quite sure of being\nheard, \"if no duty had bound me to life, I would have followed you in\ndeath. The days are poor without you, brother. But I comfort myself\nwith the thought that we shall meet again in Valhalla, and that you by\nthat time will have made your peace with the gods.\"\n\nWhen Ingolf had spoken, he took a thunder-stone which hung on a chain\nround his neck, a gift from his mother, of whom he had an indistinct\nmemory, pressed it deep down in the earth, and covered it up. Nothing\nin his eye was so sacred as this lucky stone. Therefore he gave it to\nhis brother to take with him on the way.\n\nIngolf found his sister where he had left her. She sat in the same\nattitude; not once had she moved since he left her. Her wailing had\ndied away. She sat silent. And when he laid his hand on her shoulder\nshe did not start, only turned her head quietly, and looked up wearily\nat him. She tried to rise, but had become stiff from sitting in the\nsame position. It was some time before she could stand and walk. Ingolf\nled her gently over the shore, up the point, to Hjor-Leif's grave. At\nthe grave she remained standing motionless, clinging to his arm, and\ngazing down at the brown scar in the earth. For the first time since\nshe had heard of Hjor-Leif's death her eyes filled with tears. She\nloosed her hold of Ingolf's arm and asked him impatiently to leave her.\n\nWhen Ingolf had gone, she threw herself on the grave, pressed her\nface down in the loose earth, and lay there weeping, silently and\nceaselessly. Now she could weep....\n\nLong after Helga had wept all power of weeping out of her soul she\nremained lying there, with her arms thrown out as though clinging to\nthe earth. Then at last she fell asleep, worn out with sorrow and\nfatigue.\n\nWhen she woke again it was evening. She rose and looked around her in\nalarm, suddenly afraid lest any one should see her lying thus. As she\nstood there and looked around her, she perceived a black round patch on\nthe greensward a little distance off. There had burnt the fire, which\nabout a year ago she had sat gazing at from Ingolf's point.... Ah,\nthat red fire....\n\nAnd now it was quenched ... quenched for ever.\n\nHelga sat down, looking alternately at the grave and the burnt patch.\nNow and then her eyes filled with tears. But she could weep no more.\n\nLater in the evening Hallveig came silently and sat down by her side.\nThey did not speak. Hallveig wept now and then. Helga sat motionless,\ngazing before her with eyes that scorched and burned, but seeing\nnothing.\n\nThe two women remained sitting there the whole night. When sunrise\nstreaked the horizon next day they rose quietly and went silently\nhomeward to the houses.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nIngolf sent his men to search for the Irish serfs.\n\nAs the boats were gone, there was reason to suppose that they had\nsought flight by sea. And as they knew Ingolf was in the east, it was\nlikely they had rowed farther westward along the coast.\n\nIngolf's men searched the coast westward for many days' journey. They\nsaw nothing of the serfs anywhere--not even a sign that they had\nlanded. And even if they had been drowned, their bodies must have been\ncast ashore. Neither did they find the pillars of Ingolf's high-seat,\nwhich they were also looking for.\n\nWhen they returned home and told Ingolf that they had neither found\nthe serfs nor the pillars, he said in his quiet way: \"The pillars shall\nbe found and the serfs too, if I have to search the whole country.\"\nIngolf sent Vifel with fifteen men in a boat out to the islands, which\nfrom the mountains near the point were visible in the south-west.\n\nThere Vifel found the Irish serfs. They were living in caves scattered\nabout on the largest of the islands. When they found that they were\ndiscovered, panic seized them, and they did not even try to offer\nresistance. When they saw Ingolf's men coming over the island they\nscattered in wild confusion. Some of them were cut down while flying;\nothers, among whom was Duftak, flung themselves down from the cliffs\nand promontories and perished.\n\nThe women, whom the serfs had taken with them out to the islands, and\nthe most obstinate of whom were still kept bound, were able to tell how\nHjor-Leif and their husbands had been murdered. They spoke coolly and\ncalmly of the matter. They had forgotten how to weep and how to rejoice.\n\nVifel buried the serfs on the edge of the shore, where the ground is\ndry at ebb and covered at full tide, as criminals should be buried.\n\nThen he searched each creek and promontory in vain. The pillars had\nnot drifted to shore there. Afterwards he distributed his men in three\nboats with the women and the valuables which the serfs had stolen and\ntaken with them to the islands, among them Hjor-Leif's costly sword.\nEver since then the islands have been called the Westman Islands after\nthe Irish serfs.\n\nIngolf met the boats down on the shore. Vifel told him of the death of\nthe serfs, recounted the women's narrative of Hjor-Leif's murder, and\nhanded him the sword.\n\nIngolf took it cautiously. He remembered the story about Hjor-Leif's\nfight with the dead man, who was reported to have said that a charm\nattached to the sword whereby everyone who killed with it should\nhimself die by it. Ingolf had comforted himself with the thought that\nso long as Hjor-Leif had not killed anyone with the sword there was\nno danger for him from it. Now, however, Hjor-Leif had been slain by\nit. Perhaps the saying meant that whoever possessed that sword should\nperish by it. At any rate he would not have it. Sorcery was not to be\ntrifled with. Ingolf went straight to Hjor-Leif's grave with the sword\nand stuck it in the earth so that the golden handle projected from the\nblack mould. It was the only thing left by his brother which he was\nunwilling to receive.\n\nThere was no danger of anyone taking it there. His men kept at a\ndistance from Hjor-Leif's grave. They asserted that he walked again,\nand believed that Helga met the dead man when she went up there at\nnight, as she often did.\n\nIngolf did not share their superstition in that respect. But, on the\nother hand, he well understood how Helga's appearance might give rise\nto such thoughts in his men. She looked more like a dead man's bride\nthan a young living woman. Her fair hair had become white, and hung\ndishevelled about her head. The light of her glance was quenched, and\nthe skin that stretched over her wan, emaciated face was grey and\nwithout brightness or colour. The only signs of life she gave were\neating and breathing. She carefully took charge of Thorsten, with a\npeculiar absent tenderness, since Hallveig had now a little girl to\nwatch over. She did nothing else.\n\nThat summer and the following winter Ingolf remained by Hjor-Leif's\npoint. The next spring he departed and went farther westward. He\nstopped at a river whose mouth formed a comparatively safe harbour.\nGood landing-places were generally scarce on these shores. Thither he\nhad his ships brought. Some way inland, west of the river, he built\nwinter dwellings under a hill, which was named Ingolf's Hill. In the\nsummer, as always, he had his men out to search for the pillars. When\nthey came back they were able to inform him that they had reached a\ngreat promontory. North of the mountains there was a broad fjord.\n\nIn the winter, Ingolf sent Vifel and Karle to search the coast-line\nnorth of the hills. Out on a barren promontory in a creek, which\nbecause of some warm, densely smoking springs in the neighbourhood\nreceived the name \"Rogvig\" (\"smoke-creek\"), Vifel and Karle at last\nfound the pillars. They had drifted ashore just below a little rounded\nheight. On the height there sat an eagle. It did not move when Vifel\nand Karle approached. It sat there still when they went away, after\nhaving secured the pillars. Vifel and Karle were much afraid of the\neagle. Only once before had they been equally afraid--that was when\nthe brazen voice from the monks' house had cast them to the ground.\nVifel and Karle went back and informed Ingolf of their find. Then\nIngolf was glad. Now he knew where he should dwell. Now he caught a\nglimpse of meaning again in his life. He immediately arranged a great\nsacrificial feast, and made sacrifices to Odin and Thor and gave them\nthank-offerings.\n\nWhen he heard about the eagle he became thoughtful. Neither he nor\nanyone else believed that the eagle's having sat there was accidental.\nThere was in Ingolf's mind not the least doubt that the eagle had\nreally been his old father, who, in a shape corresponding to his name,\nhad been sent by Odin to guide and keep watch over the pillars.\n\nNever again was an eagle seen on that height, which received the name\n\"Orn's Height.\"\n\nAs soon as spring came, and the roads were passable, Ingolf left\nIngolf's Hill and went over to Rogvig. The place where Ingolf's pillars\nhad drifted ashore was a large, bare promontory. The district was\nstony, and there was not much pasture-land. By far the greatest number\nof the parts he had traversed had been better and more suitable for\nsettling. But here it was _his_ lot to dwell. And, besides, he could\ntake possession of as large a territory as he chose, and build houses\nfor his people and cattle-sheds where he found fertile soil.\n\nAlready that summer Ingolf began to mark out his lands. For himself and\nhis posterity he took possession of the whole of the great promontory,\nfrom the river-mouth where his ships lay up along its curving course\nand across the hills to a fjord on the north side of the promontory,\nwhich was named Hvalfjord, between two rivers, which received the\nnames of Brynjedal River and Okse River.\n\nMany of Ingolf's men were dissatisfied at having to settle in this\nunfertile region. The serf Karle, in great vexation, ran away with a\nserf-woman. Ingolf found them long afterwards settled inland.\n\nIngolf gave land to his freed serf, Vifel. He settled on Vifestofte,\nand Vifel's Hill bears his name. He became a well-to-do man. The next\nsummer Ingolf went to Norway to fetch timber for his houses. He built\na residence at Rogvig, which was not at all inferior to the chief seat\nof the family at Dalsfjord in Norway. To the residence was attached a\ntemple which in its size and splendid equipment did not fall far short\nof that at Gaulum. Ingolf was faithful to his gods and showed them\ngreat honour. Since they had given him a new place of abode he felt\nconfidently assured that he had regained their favour.\n\nIngolf, who daily had his sister Helga before his eyes, was often\nreminded of his sworn brother, Hjor-Leif. Now he understood much which\nhe had not understood before, and caught a sight of the connection\nbetween events, which taken separately seemed accidental. He remembered\nthe beggar's words: \"Point and blade!\" Now he understood what the\nbeggar had meant. It was owing to Hjor-Leif's prompting that they had\njourneyed to Iceland. Hjor-Leif was really the first occupant, even\nthough he had not come to settle there permanently. Fate, the blind and\nimmovable, had been out after him prematurely. Ingolf's heart was moved\nwhen he remembered how Hjor-Leif had grown fond of this land from the\nfirst. It was accordingly Hjor-Leif whom Iceland had first taken in its\nembrace. Hjor-Leif was the first who had consecrated the soil of the\nnew land with flesh and blood. Had the gods, or perhaps the guardian\nspirits of the country, claimed him as a sacrifice? It was at any rate\na great sacrifice. But Ingolf did not dare to find fault with the gods.\nAlready the year after Ingolf had settled in Rogvig people began to\nflock to the country. They were for the most part Norwegian chieftains\nwho could not come to terms with King Harald. Ingolf gave several of\nthe settlers land in his territory.\n\nAmong the first settlers was Hallveig's brother, Lopt, who was called\nLopt the Old, and many of his family, which was a good and noble one.\n\nHaasten, Atle Jarl's son, was also among the first occupants. He had\nat last been obliged to leave his own lands and property and flee the\ncountry to save his life. He took some land, guided by his high-seat\npillars, due east of the river which bordered Ingolf's territory.\nHaasten lost his ship when landing, but his property and men were saved.\n\nThe very next winter he visited Ingolf in Rogvig. On the evening of\nHaasten's coming, Ingolf sat as usual in the high-seat with his men at\nthe table round him, a step lower. The fire burned cheerfully on the\nhearthstones and spread a genial and penetrating glow. The coarsely\ncarved images of the gods on the strongly illumined age-browned pillars\nof the high-seat laughed broadly in the glaring light. The talk was\nlively around the tables, and the beer-jugs were diligently emptied\nand filled. Ingolf was not grudging of beer to his men. He sat with a\ncontented look in his peaceful blue eyes and listened to their talk. He\nhimself spoke but seldom, except when questioned.\n\nThen suddenly there came three knocks at the door. All the talking\nround the tables ceased. Ingolf turned his head and gave a signal to\nthe man at the door. The bolt was pushed to one side, and in stepped a\ntall, erect, fair-bearded man in a red silk cloak with a golden helmet\non his head, followed by three other men.\n\nIngolf immediately recognized Haasten, in spite of his beard and the\nageing and weary expression of his thin face. He sprang up and went to\nmeet him. He was too much moved to speak. For a while the two former\nfriends stood silent, pressing each other's hands and looking each\nother straight in the eyes. Then they fell into each other's arms.\nWhen, shortly after, they sat side by side in the high-seat and had\ndrunk to each other, Ingolf said: \"I did not know, Haasten, that you\nwere on this road.\"\n\nHaasten smiled his weary, steady smile, and answered: \"Yes, King Harald\nhas driven me from the country, as I in my time drove you two brothers.\nHave you forgiven me that, Ingolf?\"\n\n\"I have never been angered with you for it,\" Ingolf answered.\n\nThey spoke together of many things, and their talk was light and\nuntroubled. There was in Haasten's attitude towards Ingolf the same\ndeference that all other chieftains who came there showed the quiet,\nconfident, simple, taciturn man, who by his example had drawn all the\nothers to this new land. Ingolf was indeed his friend, and as such he\nshowed him confidence, but he was also the first settler in the land,\nand as such he evinced for him a great and undisguised deference.\n\nThey talked of Hjor-Leif. \"It happened as I fore-told,\" said\nHaasten, and smiled sadly. \"The mistletoe branch at last struck the\ninvulnerable.\"\n\n\"We all owe Odin a death,\" said Ingolf quietly, and drew a deep sigh.\n\"It is most often the survivors whose lot is the hardest.\"\n\nHis look involuntarily sought the women's dais. There sat Helga, gazing\nbefore her without expression in her eyes, with his son, Thorsten, in\nher lap.\n\nIngolf pointed out the boy to Haasten. \"His name is built of Thor's\nname and yours,\" he said in a gentler voice. While Ingolf talked,\nhe noticed how attentively his son's quiet blue eyes dwelt on the\nhigh-seat pillars. Thus he had himself sat as a boy, he remembered\nsuddenly. And now he met his son's look. Were Thorsten's thoughts\nsomething like his had been when he was a child?\n\nHaasten had been sitting in silence, watching the boy. Then he said\nsuddenly: \"He must have been born soon after _that_ winter.\"\n\n\"The winter after,\" Ingolf answered, a little curtly.\n\n\"He bears Thor's name and mine,\" Haasten continued thoughtfully. \"May\nthat bring him good luck!\"\n\nHe was silent a short time. Then he asked: \"But who is the woman?\"\n\n\"My sister, Helga,\" answered Ingolf quietly. The two friends sat silent\na long time.\n\nThen Haasten beckoned to the boy, and when he came he took him between\nhis knees, and looked closely at him. \"You have honest, intelligent\neyes; you will be a brave man,\" he said at last, and stroked his\nfair hair. Then he took a heavy gold ring off his arm and gave it to\nThorsten.\n\n\"That is because you are in some part my name-sake,\" he explained,\nsmiling at the boy, who stood with the ring in his hand, staring\nalternately at gift and giver. Thorsten tried the ring on his slender\narm. \"It is too large,\" he declared, a little offended. Then he\nsuddenly brightened up. \"But it will fit me well enough by the time\nfather is dead, and I sit in the high-seat.\"\n\nBoth Ingolf and Haasten laughed. Thorsten went to show Helga and his\nmother the ring. Then silence came over the two friends. Shortly after,\nIngolf proposed that they should drink to their dead brother. The\nfriends' glances met over the rim of the drinking-horns. There were\ntears in their eyes.\n\nThey sat late that night and drank and talked together. They were very\nhappy to sit side by side again. The solitude which had threatened to\nimprison each severally was suddenly banished. Now they had each other\nagain, and felt the joy of friendship.\n\nThe fire burned yellow and brightly on the hearthstones. In its genial\nwarm light the images of the gods on the carved pillars looked down as\nif following all that passed with slow content, and waiting, calmly\nwise, for what should come.\n\n\nTHE END","title":"The Sworn Brothers: A Tale of the Early Days of Iceland","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":92543}