Chapter VI: Book II: I (2)

Leif and Holmsten sailed up along the coast, and succeeded in landing. But they had no experience in drawing up men for battle, and when the land forces sent to watch them suddenly attacked, there was no order among their men. There followed a confused struggle which soon developed into a number of single combats, man against man. Leif was opposed by an older fighter than himself, who did not leave or afford him the least opening for an attack. He had enough to do to ward off his rapid and heavy blows with shield and sword. Leif already thought that that day would be his last under the sun; he felt a paralysing fear stealing slowly over him and robbing him of strength. He noticed that he had become wet down to his legs, which had begun to shake violently, and shame and fear concentrated themselves to a wild frenzy in his soul. He suddenly saw red. If he were to fall, his opponent should at any rate carry away marks of the battle. He flung away sword and shield, and took hold of his battle-ax. How he killed the other he never understood, but at last he had him stretched flat on the ground. He picked up his sword and shield, completely out of breath, and shaking in his whole body, and looked around for a new opponent. Not far away the leader of the land-force was exchanging powerful blows with Holmsten. Holmsten had had his shield hewn in pieces, but there seemed to be something the matter with his opponent's sword. When Leif had stood for a moment looking on, his eye fell on a man who was approaching Holmsten from behind with uplifted ax. It was impossible for Leif to get near in time, but purely instinctively he grasped his spear, and as instinctively hesitated a moment before throwing it. Holmsten's head cloven by an ax was what he in his heart longed to see. But it was as impossible to let it happen as it was desirable. It must not happen! The spear whistled through the air, and a man with lifted ax fell over on his face just behind Holmsten's back. Holmsten's opponent had become aware that something was happening, and became for a moment off his guard. Holmsten took advantage of that moment, drove his sword into his stomach, and thrust hard. The other tottered and fell, with the greatest astonishment in his distorted face. And now that their leader had fallen, the rest of the force fled. Some of them were cut down while flying. Holmsten and Leif gave themselves no time to draw breath. They ran towards the town, followed by their men. The women and children fled in great confusion when they saw the Vikings approaching. Some of the men wanted to go after them, and Leif felt his heart thump in his breast when he saw the young women flying. Especially one of them, whom he clearly recognized, and who did not seem to be taking very much trouble to escape, and certainly had set her eye upon him, attracted him. But when he heard Holmsten call the men back sharply, he gave up following her. Holmsten was obviously strongly excited, though outwardly quite calm.

"First work, then play!" he commanded, in a tone which permitted no opposition, and the Vikings directed their course further against the deserted town. Holmsten and the other sons of Atle had not bought anything but corn, honey, and wine. What they wanted in the shape of articles of luxury and clothes, they expected to get without further expenditure. It was plain that there was plenty to take in the town. A rich booty of ornaments, silks, clothes, precious stones, and other similar things was collected in bundles and carried to the waiting ships. When this had been seen to, Holmsten gave as many of his men as he could spare leave to go on shore. Now they could go and flirt with the girls if they liked. Holmsten remained on board and stowed away the booty. So Leif could not manage to go on shore, though he greatly wanted to see what was up there in the wood.

When sunset approached, and it began to be evening, Holmsten told Leif to go on shore and blow the signal with the horn for the crews to go on board. They had collected plenty of booty, and there was nothing more to wait for. Now they had been long enough on shore. Leif had from the ship marked a little height which lay apart, and from which the horn could be heard far around. Upon it he meant to stand and give the signal. The ascent to the height was covered with low bushes. In one of these bushes Leif's eye fell on a girl. He looked more closely, and knew her again. Her eye was soft and timid, and she was very young. Leif forgot what he had gone for, and remained with her. He cooled his hot face in the profusion of her dark hair, and lost himself. First he was taken with her extravagant wildness; then he was scared, and rapidly cooled off. When he left her, she wept. Leif went slowly farther up the ascent. When he reached the top, he set the horn to his mouth and blew hard. Its tones reverberated angrily over the landscape. Leif was depressed in mind by disappointment and weariness. It was not a pleasant weariness like that after a battle. He had toyed with the British girls, and dared not think of Helga. The remembrance of Helga was like a wound in his soul--a wound which he dared not touch lest he should tear it open. It must have time to heal, which it might by forgetfulness. He felt a great relief when they rowed out from the bay and set sail. He never wished to come here again. Up on the height a girl sat and wept. In self-defence he hardened himself. Let her weep! What was it to him? He was not hers, and she had sought him herself.

Holmsten and Leif were greeted with loud shouts of joy when they returned to the fleet. They gave an account of the battle, showed their booty, and reaped much praise. When Haasten and Ingolf heard that Leif had saved Holmsten's life, they exchanged a look, and were both very glad. Haasten praised Leif for his prowess in battle, and it was a great honour to be praised aloud by Haasten. But it gave Leif little pleasure now. His unstable mind had lost its balance. Now he wished that he had never thrown the spear. Ingolf was not long in discovering that a change had taken place in his brother. He knew Leif, and guessed the reason. A long sea voyage would be the best for Leif now, he thought, and he induced Haasten to alter his plan and to sail first to a place on the Irish coast which he knew lay far away. Haasten complied willingly. He had been successful in trading, and had secured a rich booty. Perhaps it was the most prudent course not to visit at once the nearest coasts. It was never certain what connections there might be between the different chiefs of the district. So they hoisted sail and directed their course towards Ireland.

It was soon evident that Ingolf's insight was correct with regard to what Leif needed to restore his mind to its balance again.

They encountered a lively summer storm in the channel. That was beneficial. The warmth and the fine weather had begun to make the crews somewhat slack.

The sea journey ventilated Leif's mind. He again became his former self: a young Viking with desire for adventures of all kinds and an insatiable thirst to see new lands and to exchange blows with foreign chiefs.

III

The Vikings travelled far that summer. From England they sailed to Ireland, past the Isle of Man, whose cliff-lined coast they could only salute on that journey. Later on they meant to renew and deepen their acquaintanceship with it.

They had successful trade with Ireland. Leif saw many new things which he could not resist. Ingolf looked after the purchase of corn, honey, wine, wheat, and the more useful articles of metal for both of them.

Atle's sons were excellent traders. At first they made considerably more out of their goods than the sworn brothers. But Ingolf gave close attention to their proceedings, and learnt the art from them. And when he had learnt all that Atle's sons could do in the matter of trade, he did not remain stationary at that point. He developed himself further on his own account. Instead of doing trade in single articles, he began to deal with considerable quantities. This brought in greater gains. Soon the sons of Atle had something to learn from him.

The five Viking leaders had remained on the best terms together. Haasten, with his self-control and sense of fairness, was distinctly marked out as leader. Leif had still fits of hatred towards Holmsten and of ill-humour towards the other brothers, but he kept his temper under restraint. And whenever they encountered foes he became, as it were, at once their brother, and fought bravely on their side.

He much admired Atle's sons' skill in handling their weapons and their composure in battle. They fought as coolly and calmly as if nothing at all serious was intended. Only when they attacked was a certain excitement apparent. An attack by one of Atle's sons meant generally a swift death for the opponent. They played, to be sure, but there was seriousness in their play. It meant nothing less than life or death.

Leif was greatly taken by the immovable calm with which they let their weapons talk. He did not understand how they could fight and yet at the same time be as it were spectators. He understood Ingolf's method of fighting much better.

Ingolf attacked at once with his full strength and remained steadily on the offensive. His figure seemed to increase in weight. His blows clove shields, and his thrust penetrated where it struck. He never let himself be forced into a defensive attitude, but attacked fiercely, though always under control. His mode of fighting was not so supercilious as that of Atle's sons; he gave himself more away, but preserved his composure. This quietness and assurance of Ingolf and Atle's sons remained a riddle for Leif. For him, composure in battle would have meant simply death. He handled his weapons very awkwardly till he began to see red. From that moment he became so sure in his use of them that it was a pleasure to watch him. But he fought unconsciously, and did not know what had happened before his opponent lay prone. Then for the first time he took breath and collected himself. It was fine to see him, when he let himself go, tall and disorderly, crouching in the indomitable display of his strength. It seemed easy to take his life, and as if his enemy had it in his hand. Leif did not care how many openings he gave his opponent. But it was not easy to take advantage of these openings, for he never remained long in one place. He danced round his enemy, confused him with his apparent want of plan in attack, and pierced or slashed him before he was aware. Haasten enjoyed watching Leif fight. He insisted that Leif was invincible, for he was so thoroughly absorbed in the battle that even a superior opponent must give way before his waspish attack. "Leif could only be killed by accident--only a mistletoe branch could strike him," Haasten said. He came to be quite fond of Leif.

The Viking expedition sailed farther along the coasts of Ireland, and Leif was fascinated with the remarkable country he found there. Ireland, that unquiet, ever-changing land, appealed in a peculiarly intimate degree to his heart. Every time that he thought he knew it, he discovered that he did not. He was continually coming across something new. Wild, stony tracts were suddenly succeeded by fertile plains. Desert heaths, dark woods, narrow valleys with black rivers at the bottom, friendly coasts, rugged lines of cliff, peaceful towering mountains, placid lakes, roaring rivers--all these Ireland had. Most wonderful of all, perhaps, were the abruptly changing lights. Ireland had its own sky, full of whims like itself, rapidly changing from lofty pure blue depths to a watery layer of clouds over the land. There might be a blazing festival of sunshine over the landscape, and the next moment it was over-shadowed by heavy masses of cloud. A tract of country which had been like a brilliant smile was suddenly completely changed, and became dark and threatening, filled with a special sense of discomfort, deep and unescapable as a dream. Ireland played with one's heart, filled it with joy, to oppress it the next moment with fear and foreboding.

And Ireland's people were like Ireland's land and light. They were wild men whose soul was a mixture of gentle dreaminess and fierce rage. People who devoted themselves to fighting with their whole soul and did not know how to give or expect quarter. Their polite friendliness, nay, even brotherliness, in peaceful intercourse stood in glaring contrast to the savagery in battle and their cruelty towards fallen or captive enemies. They could amuse themselves by opening a man's stomach and letting him wind the entrails out of his body by leading him round a tree. They counted that a delightful amusement, and their gaiety was enhanced if the captive groaned. They were a nation of singular enthusiasts, bards and warriors, swarthy or red-haired, and alternately irascible or quiet.

Never in his life had Leif seen so many remarkably beautiful women as he did here. There were women with rich red hair, soft gleaming skins, quiet and inviting beings. They aroused his longing. There were also dark women, who were in themselves not less taking. Their pale skins and dark eyes filled Leif's dreams. There were other dark women with golden skin, pliant and slender. There was abundance of women of all complexions, and nearly all were beautiful.

The Vikings were enthusiastic about them, but their enthusiasm was moderated by the fact that the women carried daggers hidden in their clothes, so that now and then there was only a step between love and death. Generally speaking, the Vikings were not unpopular among the Irish women. And not seldom an originally loose connection between a Norwegian chief and an Irish girl developed into marriage.

Besides these people, the Vikings in Ireland came across another type still more savage in manners and shape, with tattooed bodies. It was a matter for astonishment to see the contrast between the land and the people. The sworn brothers and Atle's sons traded and ravaged far and wide in Ireland and the British Isles that summer. On the whole, they had had good luck, made good trade, taken much booty, and only lost few men. The last was especially due to Haasten's wise moderation and always vigilant foresight.

Haasten had often since employed the stratagem, which had succeeded so well the first time, of sending Leif and Holmsten out on a foray with two of the smallest ships, while the rest of the fleet detained the land defenders at another spot. Holmsten and Leif both equally enjoyed these excursions. And as they always took the best men with them, their expeditions generally succeeded, and brought in rich booty.

Once, however, it had nearly gone hard with them. A Swedish Viking-fleet consisting of five well-manned ships came across them as they were rowing out of a bay, where their ships had lain while they made a foray on shore. The Swedes inspected them a little, and thought that they could make use both of the ships and of what might be found on board. So they hoisted their battle-flag and set after them. Leif and Holmsten were obliged to accept battle with the superior forces of the enemy. It was impossible to escape. They cleared their ships for the combat, determining not to surrender. But before the battle had begun, the other ships came rowing round a neighbouring promontory. Leif and Holmsten had been longer away than usual that time, and Haasten, and especially Ingolf, had at last become uneasy, and determined to go and look after them.

When the Swedes saw the other ships approaching, and perceived that they were many and large, they turned sharp round and rowed away as rapidly as possible, but the wind was slack and unreliable, and the Swedes were lucky to find a fog-bank, which they ran into and escaped. When this happened, the summer was already approaching its end. The Vikings had by that time sold all that they had brought with them from home, and were well provided with foreign goods of every kind. There was really nothing more to wait for.

The sea began to awake gradually from its summer lethargy. It was plainly shown by the ships' movements that the waves were already aware of the approach of winter.

The ships were all heavily laden. And as they were warships they were not very well adapted for voyaging in the autumn. So the Vikings sailed home over the sea, the same way as they had come, under the colourless skies of late summer by day and the clear golden stars by night.

They had prosperous winds, and reached Norway about the time that the leaves were beginning to fall.

Leif was full of longing for Helga during the voyage home. He counted the days and could not sleep. It seemed to him suddenly that in the course of the summer she had come very close to him. Absence and separation had, as it were, intimately united them. His longing, however, was considerably mingled with fear--a fear without shape or distinct substance, yet none the less painful.

At Hisargavl, Atle's sons took leave of Ingolf and Leif. They thanked each other for the summer they had spent together, arranged to meet there next summer, drank each other's health in dark wine from glass goblets, and swore eternal friendship. Ingolf and Leif invited Atle's sons to come to the feast the first day of the month of Goi, with as large a retinue as they liked to bring, and Atle's sons promised to come. Holmsten, half-intoxicated, happened to mention Helga's name, and Leif listened with all his ears. But for the rest he could make nothing out of Holmsten's confused talk, except that he now knew that Helga was in his thoughts.

That evening Leif threw a spear overboard. So the sworn brothers and Atle's sons parted, and each sailed home with the rich booty of the summer.

IV

Helga awoke in the night and heard the sound of oars in the fjord. She dressed hastily and went down to the landing-place. It was full moon, but the sky was covered with dark masses of clouds. Out on the dark surface of the fjord the ships looked black and ghostly. A sudden fear made Helga's heart tremble. The ships came rowing so silently in the night. The stroke of the oars sounded so lonely in the stillness. Was Leif with them? She counted the ships and found they were not the full number. But she could not distinguish them clearly, and the larger ones might overshadow the smaller. How silently they rowed! Would it not be better if she went home to bed? That would be where she would lie if she came to know that she would no more see Leif. She would never wish to get up again. The foremost ship rowed into the somewhat broken moonlight on the surface of the fjord. Helga thought she could recognize it. Was that not Leif's dragon? She strained her eyes till they smarted, and ran down to the edge of the water. The ship over there was so dark and indistinct she could make out neither colour nor shape. It glided nearer like a shadow. The water dripped in silvery drops from the oar-blades.

A rift in the masses of clouds let the moon's pale light illumine the shore. Helga stood in it thinking intently. Was Leif with them? That would be an almost incomprehensible happiness. And even if he were, still there would come a day when his ship would return without him, or his people would come some winter day carrying him on a bier, and there would be blood upon the snow. A time must come when Leif would be no more. Then she must die.

Helga stood there bathed in the wan light of the moon, and gave herself away to her last breath. She embraced Leif with her soul, alive or dead. When the ships came quite near she stepped quickly into the shadow of one of the boat-houses. She would see if Leif was with them before she made a mistake.

Rapidly the ships approached, rowed by long oars, keeping regular time. Yes, the foremost was Leif's dragon-ship. Majestically it glided over the water, and there--yes, there on the poop stood Leif. Ah, Leif! Leif! Helga wept. She wept and was happy. But she quickly dried her eyes. See how Leif had exerted himself. He wished to be the first on shore. She could hear the excited tone of his voice when he gave the order: "Inboard!" Leif was impatient now; his movements were abrupt and hasty. He urged on his crew, and his voice became sharp. He could not wait--he could never wait the last moments. Leif! Leif! He did not guess that she stood there.

Helga did not go out of the shadow and down to the ship. She saw the crew working with the long boat-hooks and pushing the landing-plank out over the ship's side. She could just catch a glimpse of a man who went down it. And then came Leif running. How like him it was. When he was right opposite her, she went forward to meet him. Leif started, stopped, and stood. All his impetuosity ceased.

"Could you not see me?" asked Helga, with a smile that quivered. She felt so rich and happy, and came gradually nearer. Leif was not in a condition to answer or to say a word at all. He stood there, and that was all he could do. He could not even collect himself and kiss her. Helga came slowly close up to him and laid her arms quietly round his neck. They drank a long kiss from each other's mouths till their lips were sore.

Leif wished to say something, but there was a lump in his throat. When he discovered that, he began to weep. Helga smiled and kissed him more fervently. Her fearless Viking was only a long, ungainly boy who wept. He stood and embraced Helga violently but helplessly, and tears ran down his freckled, weather-tanned cheeks. Helga turned gently in his embrace. He thought she wished to be released, and let her go. But Helga did not wish to be out of his arms. She only wished to turn so that they might walk side by side. She did not wish that any one should find them there, and led him away. She wanted to have him for herself now that she had at last got him again after an endless summer. And Leif let her have her way; he had forgotten everything else except that he had her again.

They did not talk much. Only some hasty questions and quiet, hasty answers were exchanged between them. They had, as it were, no time for more talk. There was silence between them--a good and happy silence. They had each other.

In the house there was great excitement. Morning broke on an apparently hopeless confusion of men and women, who chatted together, kissed, or only sent each other embarrassed and happy glances. There were also children of all ages who jumped and sang and quarrelled together in little private combats, and men who carried loads from the ships to the house, and sauntered back again in knots, talking vigourously.

Ingolf went quietly to and fro and saw that the work was done. The ships had to be unloaded and the goods carried home to the house, and it was best to get it done soon. At this time of year the weather and the sea were not to be relied upon. Ingolf felt a sense of happiness and confidence at being home again. He relaxed a little the strict discipline which he generally maintained in all work, and granted each man sufficient time for embracing friends and for confidential talk. But if any one did not go to work of his own accord, when a reasonable time had passed, he called him by name in a friendly way and aroused him. No more was needed. The work went on vigourously. The men wanted it done as soon as possible. Ingolf had promised them a few days' holiday when the goods were in the house and the ships in the sheds.

Orn came out, bent and aged, blinking with inflamed eyes in the garish light of morning. He gave such an immense yawn that his shaggy jaws cracked and shivered, chilled by the cold autumnal air. Old age had come upon him, bent his back, and gnawed the flesh from his limbs. When Ingolf saw him, he hastened to him. Now that he saw him again, after not having had him daily before his eyes for several months, he suddenly realized how old and decrepit his father had actually become, and was seized by a strong feeling of sympathy. He whispered something as he passed in a man's ear. The man smiled and nodded, and ran down to the ships. Then Ingolf hastened to his father and greeted him with reverence and tenderness.

The old man was always on his guard against too much friendliness. Old age had increased his mistrust of people. He was peevish and gruff. He returned his son's greeting very nonchalantly, and began with noticeable haste to question him concerning purely practical matters. Had he all the ships with him? How much had he allowed himself to be cheated? He had not, it was to be hoped, brought an Irish wife home with him? How many of his men had fallen? He had probably nothing creditable to report?

It seemed to Ingolf that his voice had become remarkably high-pitched and strident.

And when Ingolf had answered, the old man repeated his questions time after time. It suddenly occurred to Ingolf that his father could no longer hear as well as before. He had to raise his voice, and he found it trying and embarrassing to have to change it. Orn noticed the change, and shouted: "Yes, I no longer hear so well. It is especially this ear here which is affected. But it is worse with Rodmar! He is alive still. But he has gone blind!" Orn laughed with a snort. "That is still worse!" His laughter filled Ingolf with discomfort. Then Orn suddenly stopped laughing. He had happened to cast a glance down towards the ships. Now he stood, his glance became fixed, and his eyes widened. Then he suddenly began to count and point at the same time with a crooked finger. "One, two, three...."

When he had counted up to twenty, he broke off and said to Ingolf, with a voice trembling with joyful emotion: "How many are there altogether?" Ingolf smiled. "There are many," he answered, in a friendly tone. "I took care that you should not want wine, father."

From the landing-place below there came a long line of men up towards the house, each one trundling a barrel. As though guided by his sense of smell, Rodmar came at the same moment tottering out of the house, supported on two sticks, and carefully feeling his way forward with his legs. Orn turned towards him, and shouted in a high and excited voice: "Now the barrels of red wine from the land of the Franks are coming in a long line rolling up to the house, Cousin Rodmar!"

"Ah, my eyes!" answered Rodmar, in a trembling and weak voice. "Gladly would I have seen that sight. But keep silent, so that I can at any rate hear the wine slopping inside the barrels!"

There was a great restlessness in Orn's blood. He took short steps, and could not stand still. With his crooked fingers he took hold of Ingolf's cloak, drew him down towards him, and gave him a hasty kiss on his forehead. Then he tottered on stiff legs up to Rodmar and clapped him on the shoulder with a trembling hand. "I cannot hear, and you cannot see, cousin. But let us thank Odin that we can both still taste. Isn't your tongue dry with knowing that there is so much wine close by? Mine rolls in my mouth like birch-bark."

It was not long before the two aged kinsmen sat side by side in the high-seat and tasted for the first time the red wine from the land of the Franks, which they had been waiting for during a whole long summer. They drank the wine noisily, let it fill their mouths, and tasted it with satisfaction.

"How do you like it?" asked Orn between gulps. Rodmar gave himself barely time to answer. "It tastes good," he answered hastily, and drank, "but I miss seeing the colour."

"Splash a little in your eyes, cousin," Orn answered, and laughed.

There they sat, and became very cheerful later in the day. Long before the sun went down they were asleep and snoring loudly. Drink had come to Dalsfjord.

Not till towards evening did Ingolf find Leif and Helga. Ingolf embraced Helga, and kissed her with much tenderness. "Are you pleased with all the gifts, sister?" he asked, with a smile.

Helga looked with wide-open eyes first at him and then at Leif. Then she smiled without comprehension and a little uncertainty. Leif looked unhappy. "I quite forgot them," he stammered, blushing and embarrassed.

Ingolf laughed loud and heartily. But Helga threw her arms round Leif's neck and kissed him tenderly before the eyes of her brother.

V

There was a chief and Viking named Olmod the Old, son of Horda-Kaare. He was a kinsman of Leif.

Olmod the Old was popular with all. He was a wise man, quiet and circumspect, a warrior in battle and a hero where drinking-horns were emptied. No one would have guessed that Olmod the Old concealed a great restlessness under the mask of quiet and imperturbability which he outwardly wore. He talked willingly, and had a flow of cheerful conversation, but was not lavish with his confidence. All thought that they knew his mind, but no one did.

Olmod the Old seldom remained long in one place. In the summer he went on Viking expeditions; in winter he was a guest in various places. He had many friends, and wherever he stayed he brought cheerfulness with him.

He was very fond of his kinsman, Leif, whose character resembled his own. It was a significant fact about Olmod that Leif was unaware that he possessed a friend in him. Leif would have been rather inclined to believe the opposite. Olmod seldom talked to him, gave him no presents, did not show him favour or friendship in any degree. But in secret Olmod kept an eye on his kinsman, Leif, and knew all about his affairs.

That winter Olmod visited Atle Jarl at Gaulum. In doing so he fulfilled an old promise. He knew that Leif and Ingolf had been on a Viking expedition with Atle's sons the previous summer. It had suddenly occurred to him that he knew Atle's sons too little.

During his visit to Gaulum, Olmod gave such close attention to Atle's sons that he actually came to over-hear a conversation between Haersten and Holmsten which they did not intend him or any one else to hear.

"I hear that Helga and Leif are fond of each other," said Haersten.

"That sounds hard to believe," answered Holmsten.

"Women's taste is often strange," continued Haersten. "Did you see, also, brother, that Leif threw a spear overboard at Hisargavl?"

"Why did you not tell me that before?"

"Because it has only just occurred to me that Leif regretted the use he had once made of that spear."

"With my good will I shall not give Leif reason to deprive himself of many more weapons," said Holmsten gloomily. "It would be rather after my mind to take care that he finds full use for all his weapons."

Olmod had heard enough. Now he knew what Leif's friends were. Shortly after overhearing this conversation he departed. He directed his way towards Orn's house, and was welcomed by Orn and the brothers. When he had stayed a week in the house, he prepared to go farther. Before doing so, he talked confidentially with Ingolf.

"Don't take it ill if I mix in your affairs, Ingolf. I begin to get old, and old men are talkative. I only wish to remind you that Atle's sons, whom you and Leif have invited to the feast this winter, are powerful chiefs, and that it will be advisable for you to show them all possible honour--among other things, by inviting as many of your kinsfolk and friends to the feast as you can." Ingolf remained silent after Olmod had spoken. He looked attentively at him. Olmod met his look with a smile. His smile was quiet and experienced. Ingolf became suddenly aware that he had more than a guest in Olmod.

"You come from Gaulum," he said in a low tone and thoughtfully. "Is that your advice?"

"That is my advice," answered Olmod, with a firmness in his voice which left no doubt as to his seriousness. And he added, as though casually: "Haasten is only _one_ of Atle's sons."

"Have you talked with Leif on this subject?" Ingolf asked suddenly.

Olmod the Old said only: "I know my kinsman, Leif. And I know you, too, Ingolf."

Ingolf gave Olmod some handsome presents on his departure and escorted him part of the way.

On the first day of the month of Goi, Atle's sons came with a large retinue to Orn's house. Ingolf had followed Olmod the Old's advice, and invited a large circle of his own and Leif's friends to the feast for Atle's sons. When Haasten saw how many were invited to the feast, he said to Ingolf, with a smile: "We sons of Atle are not accustomed to receive our friends with such a great force." Ingolf looked at him and answered seriously: "One can never show one's friends too great an honour, Haasten."

Haasten became silent and thoughtful. Involuntarily he looked at his brothers. They stood there talking confidentially together. There was something in their bearing which made Haasten uneasy. He noticed also that Ingolf was watching his brothers. Haersten and Holmsten had withdrawn themselves from the rest, and stood whispering together.

"We have never been received in such a magnificent way here before," said Haersten, with a smile. "There must be something behind it."

"I should not be surprised," answered Holmsten, "if Olmod the Old had been here. Where did he go to when he left us? It occurs to me all at once that his bearing was different when he left than when he came."

"What can Olmod the Old have told any here?" asked Haersten thoughtfully.

"Something which he possibly heard," replied Holmsten dryly.

"What will you do now, brother?"

"I don't know yet. But some time Leif shall come to miss the spear which he threw overboard at Hisargavl!"

Orn became quite another man as soon as guests came to the house. He livened up and became young again. He did not gulp down his wine, but drank deep and was none the worse for it. He was still capable of filling the high-seat with dignity and of presiding over a festival.

Rodmar, on the other hand, preferred to remain in bed when anything unusual was going on. The restlessness which the sound of many voices produced in his state of blindness made him unwell. When he could not sit quite peacefully with Orn he liked best to be alone with his wine.

Orn beckoned Haasten to a place beside him on the high-seat. Outside it he seated the other sons of Atle and the sworn brothers, and then the remaining guests according to their age and rank. When the guests had taken their seats the hall was completely filled. Orn set great store by such feasts. He liked sitting as chief in his hall. He stinted neither food nor drink. It filled him with inward satisfaction to see people eat and drink and be merry.

He became cheerful and resumed something of his old dignity.

The fire burnt pleasantly on the flat stone of the hearth. When the guests at last were satisfied, the bowls and wooden dishes were carried out, and the real drinking festival began. The youngest and handsomest women in the house went about in festal attire and poured out beer. Among them was Helga. She served at the high table. Holmsten's eyes followed her wherever she went and stood. He had never shown his liking for her so openly.

Helga could not help noticing his persistent gaze. It made her afraid. She would rather have remained away from the hall, but, on the other hand, she dared not leave Leif out of her sight. Leif sat with his mouth compressed and a gloomy expression in his eyes, and drank but little. That was not his usual way at a feast; he was accustomed to drink rather too much than too little. Only seldom did Helga succeed in catching his eye. He did not return her smile. She went to and fro in great alarm. She took care never to look at Holmsten, and she did not smile at him as at the others when she filled his horn.

Holmsten pretended not to notice it. His eye glowed with the same warmth, and his look followed her with the same persistence about the hall.

Orn proposed the toasts to the gods. He was still equal to emptying horns in their honour. When he proposed the toast of Brage, Holmsten rose and struck on his horn. "It is the custom of high-born men," he said in a loud and cheerful voice, "to make vows when Brage's toast is called. I have a vow to make which I will beg you kind friends to witness."

Holmsten stopped and looked round him. He caught a warning and slightly anxious look from his brother, Haasten. He saw Leif's bowed head and caught a glimpse of his serious face; he saw Ingolf's face grow rigid with quiet expectation. And he saw Helga standing anxious and uncertain and looking at Leif.

Holmsten smiled. For a while he stood with his burning gaze fixed upon Helga, as though waiting to catch her eye. Then he lifted his horn and said in loud tones: "I make this vow with Brage's toast, that I will marry Helga, daughter of Orn, or no other woman." There was silence in the hall. Helga remained standing still for a while. She looked intently at Leif, and saw the blood mount to his face and his shaking fingers grip the foot of the horn. When she saw that he would succeed in controlling himself, she silently left the hall, her face very pale.

Haasten had sprung up from his place when Holmsten made his vow, but had sat down again without saying anything. Ingolf sat with a smile on his face but a look in his blue eyes that was as sharp as a knife. Orn smiled graciously at Holmsten, and Haersten laughed contentedly.

At last Leif looked up. There was a hard and hostile look in his usually cheerful eyes. He looked slowly round, and let his glance dwell for a while on each of Atle's sons, and finally on his sworn brother, Ingolf, as if he were considering him especially. He looked almost as if he would not be sorry to encounter them all at once should that be necessary. To Orn he only vouchsafed a hasty and contemptuous glance.

Holmsten quite understood the effect his words had produced on each of those whom his speech concerned. He looked round with composure and continued cheerfully: "Now I have begun this game. Now it is your turn, friend Ingolf."

Ingolf gave no sign of rising. He turned his face towards Haasten and said in a quiet and firm voice which was heard over the whole hall: "It seems to me it is now Haasten's turn to continue the game. He is our leader, and the wisest of us all besides."

Haasten met his look and rose slowly. He did not find words at first, and remained standing silent for a while, looking down. A hush of expectation spread in the hall. When Haasten at last spoke his voice was quiet and troubled. "I make the vow," he said, "that I will judge justly and impartially, if a judgment should ever be demanded from me."

Haasten sat down with a melancholy air after speaking. Holmsten said cheerfully: "Your obscure vow does not seem to me to bear out the assertion that you are the wisest of us all. How will you act, if it is between your friends on one side and your enemies on the other that you must pronounce judgment?"

Haasten answered in a severe and discouraging tone: "That I intend myself to determine."

Ingolf rose. He smiled no longer; his look was serious and his tone firm and quiet. "With Brage's toast I make the vow that I will not divide my inheritance with any one but my sworn brother, Leif. May all bright gods and all good people present hear it." When Orn had heard that vow, he rose with some difficulty. Suddenly he seemed very old. The look which he cast at Ingolf was not friendly. In gloomy silence he left the hall.

Holmsten was still cheerful. "I don't understand that vow," he said, and laughed.

"It is not difficult to understand," answered Haasten severely. "Ingolf will give his sister, Helga, to Leif, and no one else."

Holmsten laughed incredulously, and looked at Leif in challenge.

Leif rose awkwardly with a jerk, and stood erect. "I make the vow," he said in a voice that shook with suppressed anger and emotion, "to show that in nothing do I stand behind my ancestors and other good men of my race!"

"That may be an easy vow to keep," shouted Haersten. "Have you forgotten that your grandfather had to leave Telemarken like a criminal?"

Leif met Ingolf's look and controlled himself. Ingolf rose slowly. He was just as quiet as before, but those who knew him could see that now he was angry. He directed his words to Haasten. "When I invited you, Atle's sons, to this feast, I believed that you were my own and my brother Leif's sincere friends. From what has happened here this evening, and from the words which have fallen, I can see that I have made a mistake--not as far as concerns you, Haasten, but your brothers. Holmsten has done us a doubtful honour. His whole behaviour does not show exactly such an attitude towards us brothers that I should like to have him as a brother-in-law--even if no one else were in the way. As regards Haersten, he has spoken insulting words against my family here in the hall. You, Haasten, will always be welcome in the place which you now occupy as my guest and friend. But your brothers I cannot ask to remain. Only with my friends will I continue this feast."

Haersten and Holmsten had sprung up from their places. Haasten also rose. "I had no share in, and could not prevent, what has happened this evening," he said quietly, and in a tone of sadness, "otherwise it would not have happened. But I cannot remain here as your guest, Ingolf, when you send my brothers away. We, Atle's sons, have always kept together."

When he had spoken, he left the hall silently, followed by his brothers and all their retinue. But no one else followed them on the way.

When they had gone, Ingolf set guards on all the roads. He wished to be prepared, in case any more surprises awaited him on the part of Atle's sons. It had become clear to him now that Haasten had no longer such complete power over his brothers as before.

Ingolf was depressed in spirits. That which he had long feared had happened at last. But this breach with Atle's sons had come in another way than he had thought. He had expected that Leif would be a direct cause of it, not, as now appeared, an indirect one. Leif had surprised him by his self-controlling bearing. Now he knew he had a brother in Leif he could completely rely on. Ingolf guessed that it was not the first time that Leif for his sake had controlled himself in the presence of Atle's sons. But, on the other hand, he could not betray Leif. He must stand by his side anywhere, and against any one--even against Haasten, if necessary. Ingolf observed, to his wonder, that he did not really miss Atle's sons, now that he was confronted by a breach with them. He had Leif; he had on his side only one man. But that was a man he could rely upon, and knew that he could. Ingolf felt himself in some degree richer than before.

VI

For some days after the feast, which had been so abruptly broken off, Orn did not speak to any one. A cloud hung over his face. His look was like that of a mad bull. He ignored Ingolf entirely; and if Ingolf tried to talk to him, he paid no more attention to what he said than to a breath of wind. Even the blind Rodmar spoke in vain to his kinsman. To Rodmar it seemed that the world had become very strange. Did Orn not hear when he spoke to him? Had he become deaf, or perhaps dumb also? He gave up trying to make it out. He did not like trouble of any kind any more. There was always the resource of lying in bed and having wine brought. Rodmar retired deeper into his darkness and drank himself into a state of stupor and oblivion. When Orn had carried about his fit of wrath in solitude long enough, he began to get tired. Wrath also disturbed his intoxication. He did not find the same happiness in wine as before. He considered the matter closely, and found a new standpoint to view it from--a more manly and less troublesome one.

He sent for Ingolf. "I understand well," he began in a harsh but not unfriendly tone, "that you do not wish to let yourself be cowed by Atle's sons. I have considered the matter, and I must confess that it was a very challenging way that Holmsten chose in which to appear as a suitor. It was, however, impossible for him to know whether Helga had been already promised in marriage, and how far his vows might cross our plans. I think that the answer you gave him was good, and becoming a chieftain. We of our race can afford to marry our children to whom we like. We certainly do not need to trouble about marriage with Jarl's sons. It has pleased me to see that you are not afraid to give even such people as Atle's sons the rough side of your tongue. I do not deny that till lately it was my idea that a marriage connection with them would be an honour for our family. But now I see that it is no less honour for the family to refuse such a connection. That shows to all and each that we reckon ourselves at least equal to Jarls. You are wise, my boy. You may go."

It was a long time since Orn had spoken so gently to his son. Ingolf went about the rest of the day smiling now and then to himself. He felt a great relief. His father's attitude had pained him more than he had been willing to admit to himself.

After his conversation with Ingolf, Orn went to Rodmar, who was very glad to observe that he had not become dumb or deaf. A joyous time recommenced for the two kinsmen. They drank copiously of the red wine, and boasted more than ever. It became to them a source of much arrogance that hostility had broken out between their sons and Atle Jarl's. They even took Leif into favour, and willingly listened to his account of his exploits in the Viking expedition of the previous summer. Leif was in their eyes still a little, loose-minded fellow, but at any rate a man. One could acknowledge him both as a son and a son-in-law. He had split various heads, and saved Holmsten's life. There one had a proof that even the worst good-for-nothings could become something if only they had good folk to look up to.

Leif was ungracious enough to care for their praise no more than he had cared for their blame. But they behaved magnanimously to him in that respect. They excused him by recollecting youth's general want of proper respect for age.

When spring approached, the old uneasiness came over Leif. He became very restless, and his eyes took an absent expression. One day he went down to the boat-houses and began to inspect his ships. As he did so, it suddenly came into his mind that during the last part of the winter Ingolf had not troubled himself at all about goods for the summer's Viking expedition. It was not like Ingolf to forget a thing of that kind.

Without delay he sought Ingolf and began to speak on the subject. Ingolf stood and looked attentively at him while he spoke. When he had finished, Ingolf answered with composure: "It seems to me, Cousin Leif, that it would be better for us to remain at home in our house during the summer than to sail out on a Viking expedition. Do you remember the vows which were made here in the winter at the feast we gave to Atle's sons?"

"The vows were not of the kind to be hastily forgotten," answered Leif, and looked in his brother's eyes. "You are, I suppose, not afraid of meeting Atle's sons on the sea?"

"I am not afraid," answered Ingolf, in a sharper tone; "but I would rather avoid hostility with Atle's sons."

Leif stood and looked down gloomily. When he had considered a little he said: "Atle's sons could easily suppose that we were afraid if, after what happened here in the winter, we gave up the Viking expeditions we had planned for the summer. I do not intend to give Holmsten reason to call me afraid. Do you, brother, decide for yourself what you will do. I shall go."

Ingolf was silent and considered the matter. He was in great perplexity. He hardly dared to let Leif go. On the other hand, he dared not hinder him either. He knew well that when Leif had once got restless he must get away. For himself, he did not like to run the risk of meeting Atle's sons. He had a presentiment that a collision was inevitable if their way crossed that of his brother. And in any case he wished to avoid lifting hand against Haasten. But the reason which especially kept him at home was, that he no longer trusted Haersten and Holmsten. If both he and Leif went away, they might both use the opportunity to carry off Helga. On such an occasion both his father and Rodmar might easily lose their lives, or be exposed to indignities which he would have to avenge. When Ingolf had come to a conclusion, he said: "I do not wish as matters now stand to leave our family and property without someone to look after them. I will no longer prevent your going since you have set your mind upon it. But it will cause me great anxiety to know that you are out on a Viking expedition with only three ships. For I cannot spare more men away from home. You may encounter Atle's sons, you may meet other hostile Vikings, or you may through want of foresight get involved in an unequal battle. I would rather, therefore, that you stayed at home, Cousin Leif. But if you will promise me not under any circumstances to engage in an unequal battle, as far as it is in your power to avoid it, I will not oppose your going."

Leif promised that willingly. He never thought about promises. He grasped Ingolf's outstretched hand and said: "I promise you to proceed cautiously. If I meet with danger or superior force, I will escape as well as I can. You need not be uneasy for my sake, brother."