BOOK II

I

Years passed and nothing happened. There was much talk of disturbance

and disquiet in the north of the country. The young King Harald and his

uncle, Guttorm, were continually engaged in warfare. Various raisers of

disturbance had already been suppressed, but new ones were continually

starting up. The latest rumour current was, that the young King

purposed, as soon as he had given peace to his Kingdom, to extend it.

It did not look as if he had peaceful intentions. Dalsfjord as yet was

ravaged only by rumours. No events themselves, only the faint thunders

they aroused, came near there.

Orn, however, was always of opinion that it was safest for Rodmar to

remain; especially as Leif had now undertaken the management of the

property, and Rodmar might as well remain in one place as another.

Much beer was brewed in Orn's house. Perhaps it was not without some

connection with this that Orn and Rodmar's talk took all the more

a prophetic tinge. Obscure and rather disconnected wisdom flowed

liberally from their lips. Leif called this wise talk nonsense, and

was not ashamed to laugh openly in his father's face when he was more

wise and obscure than ever. Ingolf, on the other hand, although with

some difficulty, continued to invest Orn with a halo of dignity, and

showed him all possible filial reverence. He always consulted him in

important questions, although certainly only for form's sake. And he

never brought forward a matter without having first procured permission

to speak. This pleased Orn in a high degree, although he sometimes felt

somewhat embarrassed by it, and almost always showed peevishness to his

son.

Orn was by no means easy to deal with. For example, Ingolf, at the

beginning of the spring when he completed his nineteen winters, went

to him to hear his opinion regarding the sowing plans he had made for

the summer, and also about a necessary enlargement of the salt-kilns.

Orn looked up at him with a scornful and malicious look in his

drink-swollen eyes, heard fully all he had to say, and at last broke

out harshly on him.

"You are only a peasant! A good-for-nothing you are, although you are

tall and heavy enough! You wear the family bracelet! What honour have I

from you? There is no energy in you. Do you think one finds honour in

the fields? Do you think one can plough it out of the ground? Food you

find, but never any honour. Do you think a man keeps fresh by burning

salt all his life? Keep away from me with your salt-burning and your

sowing-plans. Would any one believe you were a free man's son, and

soon full grown? Speak with the serfs about it. No--Harald, Halvdan

the Black's son--there is a fellow with some stuff in him! You'll feel

his knuckles one day--wait and see! He'll mark you all with the brand

of slavery--every man of you. Each and all of you will have to pay

tribute to him, if you do not want to be shorter by a head or to have

your necks stretched! It is said that he intends to subdue all Norway

and to become sole King. How old are you now? Nineteen winters? He is

four years younger! You are no King--no! You are right in that. But

your forefathers were chiefs, and ruled themselves, and ruled others as

the King's peers. Go off to your fields and your salt-burning--I won't

listen to you any more. I won't _see_ you! Go! Ha! Wait a little. Go

first to the smith, and have your fathers' weapons smelted down into

meat-axes! Have you not increased your stock? Are you not in want of

meat-axes! No, it was something different in my youth. If I had been

in my prime now, the good Harald would have found at least one neck he

could not break. Unless, indeed, I had deemed it wisest to assist him.

That also might be a way to honour. But you have only thoughts for your

fields and your salt-burning. Go!"

Thus Orn spoke, and was very irritable. Ingolf listened to him

patiently without moving a muscle. And when he received the command

to go he retired with a respectful salute. He honoured the family in

his father, and did not wear the family bracelet in vain on his young

arm. Ingolf looked after his property; Leif neglected his. For the

first two years Leif had managed remarkably well alone. But when it

no longer amused him to rule and give orders to the house-servants,

he began to become somewhat careless. It was to his advantage that

his people were reliable and fond of him--remarkably so, in fact. He

might scold them thoroughly, using the whole of his copious vocabulary

until his voice failed him. He might beat them and abuse them, and bid

them ten thousand times to go the straight way north or down to hell.

They admired his readiness of speech and energetic irritability. It

was always enlivening to see him in a rage. And it was characteristic

of him that his wrath was forgotten as soon as it had blazed up. It

flashed up like a fire of pine-needles and burnt out at once. Besides,

he was not small-minded, and let every one manage his own affairs, so

long as he minded his work. He was a kind and cheerful master to serve

under. Many plants grew in his track, but never the plant of dullness.

Ingolf had another way with his people. He immediately became a father

and providence for them. He was considerate towards the old, and let

them have an easy time. They were never weary of blessing him. He

visited them often, and his visit was always like a gift. He showed

an equable temper with his people, demanded a certain amount of work

from them, and expressed in encouraging words his satisfaction with

work well done. On the other hand, no one had ever heard a threat from

his mouth. He had his own way of showing displeasure by a certain

indifferent silence which did not fail of its effect. No one liked to

feel himself the object of that quiet taciturnity. His peaceful manner

diffused a peculiar sense of security around him. He was careful in his

choice when he engaged new people, which rarely happened. Those whom he

had once engaged remained with him.

Leif could not alter his nature; he was just Leif, once and for all.

When he had managed his property with diligence and watchfulness for

three years it amused him no longer. He began to slacken, and let

things go at haphazard. And since they did not seem to go altogether

badly that way, he gradually preferred not to look after them at all.

So Ingolf found him going idle for whole months at a time. Ingolf

wondered at him. How could he choose to go on and undertake nothing?

No, that was going too far. Ingolf secretly kept an eye on Leif's

property, and saw that it was managed in some way without him, although

not thoroughly. So there was all the less reason for him to interfere

in Leif's way of living. There resulted a good deal of restraint

between the two sworn brothers which was unavoidable. Ingolf tried his

best not to let himself be irritated by Leif's idle ways. He exerted

himself to meet him as unconstrainedly as before. But his openness

was not natural as it used to be, and seemed forced. Leif noticed it

without thinking about it, and the feeling of restraint between them

continued.

Only seldom did Leif follow Ingolf to the fields or to other business.

Their unconscious inner tension robbed their intercourse of all outer

comfort or heartiness. The sense of brotherhood and family feeling

between them decreased greatly, and threatened to vanish.

Ingolf be-took himself to work as a defence. He wrapped himself in

business as in a coat of mail, and work shielded him to a certain

extent. But the unavoidable vacant hours were like rents in his armour.

And the weapons Ingolf had to fight against immediately found every

exposed place.

Leif was not the man to notice that something had happened when nothing

had really done so. He only felt boredom and emptiness, and the

difficulty there is in making time pass when like a refractory horse it

begins rearing on its hind-legs. Either he sat alone with Helga and let

the hours fly, or he simply lay and lazed somewhere, staring into space

and wondering what purpose there can be in a useless day. His mind

became every day more unbalanced, and his temper was like a sportive

squirrel. Sometimes his restlessness and impatience impelled him to

tease and vex those who surrounded him. Not even Helga escaped; on the

contrary, just because she was the most helpless before him, it was she

who suffered most. Not rarely his words made her cry. Afterwards he sat

silent and helpless, unable to repair what he had done, and feeling

intolerable pain.

Leif's only excuse was that he was Leif and had lost his balance. The

hopeless melancholy of youth was upon him.

Years passed and nothing happened. Hitherto each year had had one

event. They visited Gaulum, or Atle's sons visited them. One winter

Leif and Ingolf were invited to the feast at Gaulum; the next winter

they were the hosts. Hitherto in Leif's mind there had been a halo

about these feasts; he had awaited them with eagerness and taken part

in them with a happy fervour of abandonment. Now he hardly cared to

think of them any more, and had quite ceased to take pleasure in them.

For there had gradually risen in Leif's mind, although he carefully

concealed it, a strong ill-will against Atle's sons, especially

Holmsten. Holmsten had always been a thorn in his side. Holmsten's

voice and vocabulary, his smile, his way of being silent, and his whole

character had an irritating effect on Leif. At times, when he was not

especially sensitive, he could, as it were, lock such feelings out.

But there were other times when he stood and actually shivered with

irritation merely at seeing and hearing Holmsten. But, faithful to his

oath of brotherhood and promise to Ingolf, he suppressed all feelings

of that kind as best he could. In any case, they never broke out. Thus

it happened that Holmsten once in a humourous mood made merry over

Leif's appearance. He meant nothing serious by it, but an innocent

remark about Leif's large nose slipped thoughtlessly out of his mouth.

When he saw what effect it had upon Leif, who became quite red in the

face, he was immediately sorry, and said nothing. When Leif had thus

come to know what he looked like, his eyes were suddenly opened to

see how handsome Atle's sons were. From that day it was that he began

to hate them in his heart, especially the youngest. He now noticed

also how they looked at Helga, when they were on a visit. He did not

like those looks. Of course he could well understand that they could

scarcely keep their eyes from Helga. But Helga was his, and that made

a difference. And although Atle's sons could not know that, yet at any

rate they ought not to look at Helga so. It was especially Holmsten

with whom Leif found himself angry--Holmsten, whose existence from

the time that Leif was a boy had rankled like a thorn in his mind.

Holmsten was undeniably the handsomest of the brothers, perhaps because

he, as the youngest, was now at the handsomest age. Moreover, it was

Holmsten whose look fastened on Helga with the greatest pertinacity.

Leif was pained, and suffered. The most intolerable part about it

almost was that it was impossible for him to let Helga notice his

jealousy. She did not give the slightest occasion for it, but that did

not comfort Leif at all--on the contrary. This made Leif's behaviour

towards her rough and unintelligible. She was almost obliged to believe

that he was no longer as fond of her as he had been, since he at times

could do without her. It was only the pain in his look, even when he

behaved in the most capricious way, which quieted her doubts. Yet she

went about sometimes with such pensive eyes. There sat Leif, with a

feeling of emptiness like a man who must see the most precious thing he

possesses slip out of his hand, and cannot move a finger. Leif could

at times become so anxious about Helga that all gladness and pleasure

in life forsook him. Often she looked at him with a questioning and

troubled look, and shut herself within herself.

The summer after Leif had completed seventeen and Ingolf nineteen

winters, Atle's sons for the first time went on a Viking expedition.

That summer was the worst Leif had ever experienced. The want of

occupation, and the complete absence of all events, became doubly

intolerable now that he knew that other young men, who were not much

more than his own equals in age, were sailing out on the wide ways

of the sea, making the acquaintance of foreign people and lands,

trafficking or fighting with those whom they encountered wherever they

went, and, in any case, having new experiences every day and every hour

of the day. These thoughts were so painful that Leif at times became

quite poorly and depressed when they attacked him.

That summer there arose besides in his distracted and uneasy mind a

besetting idea, which, when it had once taken root, was not to be

shaken off. Suppose Holmsten should be killed that summer, how would

Helga receive the news when she heard it? He could sit silent and

watch her for hours at a time in order to discover an answer to this

question. Sometimes he introduced the Viking expedition of Atle's sons

as a topic of conversation before her. She did not seem specially

interested in it, but talked willingly, though without great interest,

about it. These conversations gave Leif a strong impression of woman's

falsity!

At last there came a day when he could hold out no longer, threw away

all shame, and went to Helga and told her that news had come from

Atle's sons that Holmsten had fallen. Helga sat for a while pensive

and serious. "So we shall never see him more," she said, with a slight

tremor in her voice. "I cannot really imagine Atle's sons without

thinking of them all three together--so I remember them the first time

I saw them, so one always saw them. His brothers will be very grieved

at losing him."

Leif listened breathlessly, but her words and tone made him no wiser.

"Was it Haersten--or Haasten?" he thought. "I should have told her

that all three had fallen."

Utterly discomfited by this frustration of his attempt at surprise,

he gave it up altogether. Now he was reckless. "That is not true," he

confessed wearily. "There has come no news from Atle's sons."

Helga became quite silent from surprise. Her astonished look rested

almost anxiously upon him. "How can you take it into your head to say

such things?"

Leif looked maliciously and despairingly at her. "It is still too early

to weep for Holmsten," he said coldly and scornfully. Then he rose

suddenly and went. As he stepped out of the door, a burst of cheerful,

rippling laughter broke out behind him. "Why does she laugh?" he

thought, anxious and angry at the same time, but did not turn round to

examine her face. The rest of the day he kept puzzling about her laugh.

Did she laugh because it was not true that Holmsten had fallen, or did

she only laugh at him, because she had discovered that he was jealous

of Holmsten? For the rest it seemed to Leif that neither was a laughing

matter. So morbid had he gradually become that all laughter seemed to

him suspicious and unbecoming. It took Helga several days to eradicate

the effects of her laughter from Leif's mind. Even kisses and embraces

seemed ineffectual. He suffered from his peculiar obstinate temper,

insisting that he had been insulted, but unable to overcome it. It

required a severe effort before he could bring himself to repay Helga's

gentleness with the same.

But then he seemed all at once to have become quite different. It

seemed as though the exposure he had made of himself had cured him.

He felt an immense relief. Now he had, at any rate, proof that Helga

would neither become white as snow, nor fall dead, even if she should

hear that Holmsten had fallen. He began gradually to surmise that his

jealousy was only a cob-web of the brain.

Besides this, a thought had taken possession of him which drove all

spiteful spectres out of his mind. As early as the next summer he would

go on a Viking expedition himself. He would not remain here and become

prematurely old and peevish. It was true that at summer-time he would

still be two years short of the regular Viking age. But Ingolf would at

that time be of the right age and could get his going legalized--for

Ingolf would go too, as a matter of course. They could not go about at

home for ever and become moss-grown without and mouldy within.

"Look at the old men!" he broke out, when in words that stumbled over

each other he made Helga privy to his plan. "Must one not be sorry

for them? Yet they have been young once. This is what age makes of

people. It is better, when one is good for nothing else but boasting,

to have something to boast of, than for want of experiences to become a

wretched liar."

"Do you think that you will some day become like--like your father?"

asked Helga, smiling. She thought Rodmar was worse than Orn.

"Without doubt," answered Leif decidedly. "I can certainly not realize

it. But why should I become otherwise? Must they not have once been

young and full of life? Now they drivel!"

Helga sat for a little while and thought. And while she thought, her

expression changed and became pensive and serious.

"You are so imprudent, Leif," she said, with anxious eyes, "I fear you

will be killed in your first battle."

Leif laughed arrogantly. "Have you not noticed that I am invulnerable,"

he outbroke, with a beaming smile, "that nothing can injure me? There

is something or other which protects me. I have thought about it. It

can only be _your_ love, Helga. What else should it be?"

Helga kissed him. She had tears in her eyes. "If my love can protect

you, Leif, you _are_ invulnerable. My own friend, do whatever you will,

only do not quite forget me."

Leif hurried from the place to meet Ingolf. And when he found him

he was so completely the old Leif, with body and soul intent upon a

definite object, that, with the stream of his talk and the irresistible

absoluteness of his manner, he swept all ill-humour out of Ingolf's

mind. Now that Leif had become quite himself again, Ingolf needed no

more to be on the watch regarding his own attitude towards him. Ingolf

stood quite quietly, listened to him, and allowed him to talk freely,

without the slightest attempt at interruption. He merely stood and

looked at him, and enjoyed feeling how his eagerness infected his own

mind like a happy excitement. Ingolf felt at that moment a gladness

which he had forgotten. He could have embraced his brother.

While Leif spoke further and developed his plans, Ingolf pondered. He

only followed Leif's stream of talk with one ear, only to ensure that

nothing important escaped him. Meanwhile, he subjected the project to

independent consideration. Perhaps it was, at any rate, over early to

join in a Viking expedition just now. Perhaps they ought rather to

wait a couple of years; Leif was so young, and was still not of the

warrior's age. But, on the other hand, Leif needed a change just now.

And he was quite self-reliant, though not of the proper age. They could

also train themselves in the use of weapons in the winter. If they

waited, Leif would again become strange and not to be understood or put

up with. For Leif's sake they must go. How completely he was again the

old Leif, even in his thoughts!

Ingolf concluded his considerations by saying: "I will talk with my

father about the matter," in the middle of Leif's stream of words.

Then Leif became uncontrollable for a while. He seized hold of Ingolf

and whirled him round. He knew that with this sentence the matter was

decided. But it seemed to him when, out of breath he let his laughing

brother go, that he absolutely must say something about Orn.

"The old blusterer!" he snorted contemptuously. "To think that we

should guide ourselves by _his_ opinion. Well, do as you like. Only

forget not to say that we shall bring wine home for him--much wine.

Then you will see how tractable he will become. I will promise my

father the same, in order to make him willing to give up the keys of

the weapon-chest."

Ingolf went to his father, put the matter in a few words before him,

asked him for ships and merchandize, and first and foremost for his

consent to their making an expedition the next summer.

While Ingolf talked, Orn sat with a dull look and an unwilling

expression in his face, as if it was with difficulty that he heard

him to the end. "Ships and merchandize are your own," he answered

peevishly, when Ingolf was silent. "You can do with both what you will,

and it would not surprise me if you returned home empty-handed. Leif

will still prove a costly brother to you. He will be captured, and

you will have to pay the ransom. Keep a good watch on the ships, and

don't let yourself be cheated in trafficking. When they offer you one

cask of wine for a bear's skin, you should ask three, then you will

get two. For the rest, you can go anywhere in the world as far as I

am concerned, if only you do not disgrace your father. Go! No, wait a

little. If Atle's sons go again on an expedition in the summer, show

that you have a little intelligence, and go with them. Then you will

be five together, and can better hold your own where you go. But if

you return home without a good stock of red wine from the land of the

Franks, I will never see you before my eyes, or hear so much as the

sound of your voice. Go!"

Leif also talked with his father. He was extravagant in his description

of the matter, and lavish in promises. He simply told his father that

now in Ireland and the British Isles grape-wine from all the lands of

the earth could be bought. When the old Rodmar, made young again by the

thought of earth's flowing glories, began to talk of travelling with

them, Leif changed his tone, and pictured the dangers and fatigues of

the journey in vivid colours. Then Rodmar shrivelled into himself again

and gave up the thought of travelling.

But Leif got the keys of the weapon-chest, and for the first time

obtained his father's blessing.

Ingolf told Leif that his father had proposed that they should join

with Atle's sons in the expedition. At first Leif was a little annoyed,

but his joy was so great that everything else became of secondary

importance in comparison with the prospect that he was going out--out

on long journeys in the wide world. He saw at once the reasonableness

of the proposed arrangement. They gained in strength by joining with

Atle's sons, and would be invincible. Besides, there would be more

ships, and the expedition would be a grander thing all round. And there

was, moreover, something enticing in the idea of being with Atle's sons

and witnessing what good and evil befell them.

Perhaps he would have the experience of seeing one or more of them fall

by the enemy's hand. That would be an experience worth bringing home.

When he had got so far in his considerations, he gave Ingolf's proposal

his unconditional approval.

There was much joy in Orn's house. The old men were enlivened, their

stories became more cheerful, and they were not quite so peevish as

before. They already anticipated beforehand in their thoughts how the

barrels of red wine from the land of the Franks would be trundled up

to the house from the landing-place. They knew how a barrel of wine

should be handled from the moment the bung was drawn out till it stood

empty. They already became fastidious and difficult to please with

their thoughts of the red wine.

From that time they drank only mead. All other beer tasted sour,

they said, and wrinkled their noses. One day Orn summoned Ingolf and

reminded him in an imperious tone of honey: "From henceforth only mead

will be brewed here in the house. Go!"

Ingolf smiled to himself when he came out from his father. When no one

saw it, he permitted himself now and then a smile. Ingolf and Leif had

their ships examined, and made other preparations.

Leif spent most days down below at the boat-houses. He was

indefatigable, and showed a reflectiveness and care in his preparations

which both surprised and rejoiced Ingolf.

They were to equip three ships, so there was much to do in taking goods

on board and arranging them, especially as the ships had not been

used for many years, and had therefore to be made taut, tarred and

thoroughly overhauled.

Ingolf and Leif divided the work: Leif looked after the ships and their

equipment, while Ingolf managed the properties of both, and arranged

for obtaining by exchange goods for the expedition.

Leif was indefatigable. Neither the autumn's clammy rain nor the

winter's keen frost and furious snow-storms overcame his energy. The

whole day long, and sometimes far into the night, he was at the

water-side. Helga had to seek him there so that he should not be quite

apart from her. She was glad to see him so happy and absorbed. She was

very warm-hearted, and when he could spare her some time, it was as

though he gave her a treasure. When he thus for a time had forgotten

his work, Helga's exuberant feeling, mingled with the desire to see

Leif at work, made her occasionally remind him that he forgot the time.

The energy with which he set to work again could be a song of secret

gladness in Helga's heart for the rest of the day.

That winter it was Ingolf and Leif's turn to visit Atle's sons. Already

during their first day at Gaulum, Ingolf brought up the subject which

was to him at the moment of greatest importance. Turning to Haasten, he

told the brothers that he and Leif had resolved to go on an expedition

in the summer, and proposed to join them under Haasten's leadership,

provided the brothers also had determined on a cruise.

Atle's sons had had a prosperous summer and were going out again.

Haasten considered it self-evident that they should go in company. He

asked his brothers' opinion. Haersten agreed with him. "Leif is two

winters short of the regular Viking-age," answered Holmsten, with so

little reflection that he hardly knew he had said it, before the words

were out of his mouth.

Leif coloured. And as was always the case when he became angry, he

involuntarily straightened himself. "Let us see if I stand back in any

matter, when occasion arises," he answered, keeping calm successfully.

"If not, is there any reason for setting me aside on account of my

youth?" Ingolf stood pale and resolute. "Leif and I go together," he

said slowly. "I did not think this objection possible, or I would not

have brought forward any proposal for fellowship. Yet we all know how

common it is that the elder lawfully take the younger. Now, let us

talk no more about it. We brothers are men enough to make our way for

ourselves."

"I for my part am willing to go in fellowship with you both," answered

Holmsten quietly and undisturbed, "and willing to take Leif. I only

meant by what I said to draw attention to the fact that he is not of

the legal age."

"Then your words were incautious and liable to be misunderstood," said

Haasten reprovingly, in a severe tone which he seldom used towards his

brothers. Then turning to Ingolf he continued: "We brothers offer you

our fellowship, and beg you earnestly not to decline our offer. We have

been friends since we were boys. We belong together on sea and on land.

I will answer for it that we brothers keep our agreement to the last

drop of our blood and the last farthing in our possession."

Thus they agreed to sail together on a Viking expedition under the

leadership of Haasten as the eldest. The place and time of their

meeting would be further discussed with Ingolf at the time of the

spring sacrifice.

II

One sunny day in the fresh early summer, when airy white clouds were

passing across the bright blue sky and a cheerful breeze was blowing

over the dark blue sea, Ingolf and Leif sailed with their six ships

from Dalsfjord to meet Atle's sons at Hisargavl.

Busy days had preceded their departure. Ingolf had in the course of

the year collected a quantity of goods. They had to be divided among

the ships, put on board, stowed away, and secured carefully. There

were dried fish in quantities--some which they had caught themselves,

and some bought from Lofoten. There were dried skins. There were large

bales of wool. There was also a quantity of furs, obtained from inland

by commerce with the Finns; light wares, minever, and other varieties

of skins. When the goods had been stowed together amidships, the whole

heap was covered with skins for protection against rain and sea, and

well secured besides by long ropes and straps of hide.

The two largest of Ingolf's and Leif's six ships were dragon-ships.

Each had five-and-thirty oars on board, in all, seventy oar-holes, and

were remarkable warships. Splendidly carved dragon-heads, which could

be taken off and put on at pleasure, towered high over the sharp prows,

showing their teeth in war-like fashion and with tongues stretched out

contemptuously against sea and sky, storms and enemies. The stern of

the ship formed the dragon's tail, was artistically carved, and was, as

well as the gunwale, adorned with ingenious intertwined devices.

The other ships were smaller. Two of them had thirty oars on board, the

others five-and-twenty. They were also ornamented with animals' heads

on the bows, and devices along the gunwale and stern, although not so

splendidly as the leading ships.

Ingolf and Leif stood each on the poop of his dragon-ship when the

little fleet rowed out from the landing-place by Orn's house. On

the higher ground were gathered all those who were to remain behind

at home. While the ships were still near the land, loud shouts of

farewell were exchanged between those who stayed behind and those who

were departing. But very soon the long, slender ships with their rows

of oars crept out of hearing. They could then only make signs to one

another.

All this fuss about departure annoyed Ingolf. As soon as they were

in somewhat open water, he had the striped, four-sided, square sail

hoisted. There was only one sail to each ship, but this one could be

turned round the mast and managed with great ease and skill.

While they were still near land Leif often turned and looked back.

He only saw one among the figures of those left behind--a girl whose

fair hair floated in the breeze. She stood so still. Every time he saw

her, his eyes filled with tears, which blotted her from his view. He

did his best to refrain from weeping, but was on the verge of tears.

For the moment the expedition lost all its attraction for him. He felt

suddenly that wherever Helga was not, there was only triviality and

tediousness. If he could have done so honourably he would have turned

back. He felt the separation so acutely that he was neither aware of

the blue sea nor the sunny day. He could not understand why he had not

before considered how impossible it really was to be parted from Helga

for a whole summer. He suffered, moreover, from a painful consciousness

that in his joyful absorption in the prospect of going on an expedition

he had not thought of her at all. He hoped that she would not feel the

separation so severely as he did, but immediately retraced the wish.

For there was a certain consolation in being missed. His distress and

inner confusion were great. Rapid oars were rowing away from Helga

and home, which had always made brightness in his soul, and had now

increased indescribably in value and attractiveness--rapid oars were

rowing him away, and he had to let it be so. He was also obliged, in

order not to let himself fall behind, to pull himself together and,

following Ingolf's example, give command to hoist the sail.

The striped sail bellied out joyfully before the breeze. The heavily

loaded ships pitched moderately. The water foamed around their bows

and splashed against their sides. It was a voyage of the kind which

makes a man feel peaceful and comfortable. The sting of grief in Leif's

consciousness was dulled. His bereavement was mollified by the joy

of journeying. The fjord opened out, and angry-looking waves spoke

seriously with the ships, though always in the most friendly way.

Willingly and yieldingly, if only they were able to float and advance,

the ships obeyed the movements of the waves.

The crews on board were very cheerful. Sailing was a pleasure. They

raised their ringing voices in a loud song, while they looked to the

weapons, ground their axes, fixed spear-points firm in their shafts,

sharpened knives, and tested the strength of their bows. The oars

lay in piles on the forks hung up for that purpose, and the wind was

friendly enough to do the work. It was all as it should be; it was a

happiness to live and a joy to think that they would soon have use

for their weapons. Arms and legs were stretched out, and muscles were

carefully and critically felt. Yes, they were all right. Some had

specially hard and round knots of muscle to show, which were felt by

all the bystanders, and the owners were both congratulated and secretly

envied. The youngest, and those who had the most copious vocabulary,

swore by the salt water and the golden bristles of the holy boar that

they would neither admire nor envy. Secretly they promised themselves

that they would take good swigs from the train-oil barrel.

Thus the day passed, and it was a glorious day.

By the evening there was only a certain, not altogether uncomfortable,

depression remaining from the pain Leif had felt at parting from Helga.

The rest of it he threw off in sleep. As he saw before him coasts which

he did not know and had not seen before--perfectly new coasts in varied

beauty--his mind took its last and decisive turn. Henceforth it only

looked forward.

"Is that Norway, too?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "And have we sailed

the whole night? Norway is great and beautiful! It must be splendid to

live here."

He swallowed every new view with greedy eyes. These strange coasts

aroused an intense desire to live in him. Here life was lived and many

things happened--many things which one had no idea of.

The sworn brothers met Atle's sons, who also had each three ships,

at Hisargavl, as they had agreed. And carried by a breeze, which had

increased to what Vikings would call a good wind, the fifteen ships

steered westward over the sea. They intended to go to the British

Isles and greet the chiefs there. The ships glided smoothly over the

water, keeping together as much as possible. Acquaintances were made

between the ships, accompanied by mutual promises of beer and wine. The

new friends swore to drink each other's healths in horns as soon as

opportunity offered. There was much merriment on board. Here young and

old felt in high spirits. On the sea they were at home, as everywhere

where there was a prospect of adventure and the clash of weapons. And

as the wind increased in strength their spirits rose.

When, next day, there came a storm, their expressions of joy were

not quite so boisterous and demonstrative; now each had something to

look after with his oar or scoop, but the air on board was full of

courage and contentment with events as they might arrange themselves.

A demand was made on their strength, and that was not bad, since they

had it. They would show the old storm-god, Aegir, that they too would

gladly have a brush with him. "Come on, Aegir's daughters, whose kiss

is wet and salt and in its way burning! Come on, you white-tufted,

seaweed-adorned young maidens! The Vikings will not shrink from any

embrace, not even when willingly offered. Even Valkyries and Aegir's

daughters they will embrace with joy. Come on! You will see our

fellow's strength!" Thus they sang and boasted. This voyage made the

old feel young in soul again and matured the young. Gliding along with

oar and scoop, they chewed their dry fish. They had a long time to wait

for any real sleep and rest. In the light nights a healthy man sleeps

only like the birds. If he is on a sea voyage, he closes one eye, takes

what rest he can get amid the waters, and enjoys the night air. For

the rest, he chews his dried fish and is content. One must take the

wind and water as it chances. If neither sun nor stars are visible,

one sails by instinct, which is easy. Odin the All-Father has had his

offerings, and Njord also is at hand. Perhaps the gods guide when the

stars fail. And, anyhow, the Norns have not lost them from sight. They

received what was due to them, and that was as it should be.

After some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the

Vikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some

bare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite

comfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white

foam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke

in mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. "It must be splendid to

live here," thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing

in his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail

farther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleak

and bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there

were the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the

names before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the

Hjaltland Islands--here they lay.

Ingolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with

interest. He said: "They are desert islands; what good is there

in them?" "They are easy to defend," an old sea-dog answered him.

Immediately the islands gained in Ingolf's estimation, but he did not

want to live there.

They sailed farther, and came to other islands, equally bleak and

bare--islands with small, narrow valleys, and here and there a crooked,

worn, storm-hardened fir. Those who had not voyaged before, learned

that these were the South Islands. They lay here in the midst of

the sea, exposed to everlasting storms, roared around by unwearied

billows, veiled in rain and fog. "Here the sun seldom shines," one of

Leif's company informed him, "and certainly never for a whole day."

Leif thought that it was a strange and melancholy country. There was

something in his mind which responded to these islands. He would gladly

live here.

They sailed on, and found blue sky and sunshine on the sea.

At last they approached the shore of England. When Ingolf and Leif saw

it, each remained standing on his poop dumb with delight, and a song

arose in both their souls. This was certainly a rich and glorious land!

Such fertility they had never thought possible on earth. Did the vine

grow here? Leif asked his fellow-countryman, with quiet awe in his

voice. The old greybeard answered him, and said that as far as he knew,

when he reflected, the vine did not grow in a land so far north. "This

land's fertility and wealth is certainly great, but nothing compared to

that of the land of the Franks," he concluded. Leif willingly believed

him, but did not understand. Here it must be good to live. In spite of

all bedizened wooden gods, here he would dwell. "Or let me first see

many lands," he added at once with a ravenous, hungry consciousness

of not being able to live everywhere. "Ah! The glorious lands of this

earth--there a life is lived which one has no part in!" he thought to

himself, and felt empty in soul.

Haasten had the peace flag hoisted, and they sailed towards the land.

This would be a good place to trade in. They anchored their ships in

a little bay among wood-covered hills and heights. A crowd of armed

men had already gathered on the place on the shore where they were

preparing to land, and stood gazing towards the ships. There was

evidently a great deal to find out on both sides. Yet they seemed, in

spite of their weapons, quite peaceful, and in consequence they also

hoisted the trade flag.

The ships arranged themselves side by side, according to Haasten's

directions, the first so near to the land that it could be made fast by

a rope to a rock on the shore.

Men with long hooks stood at the ship's sterns and kept them

stationary, till the anchor-stones fell in their proper places, and it

was clear that the ships were secured. Then a long, slender plank with

steps cut in it was pushed towards the land. By it Atle's sons and the

two sworn brothers with them went ashore.

The chiefs of the district inquired of them in courteous language what

they had to sell. Haasten told them, and asked them in turn what wares

could be bought here. When all information had been given it was clear

that both parties wished to trade, and they quickly resolved on a two

weeks' peace for that purpose.

When the peace was made, and hostages given on both sides, serfs

dragged cauldrons and iron stands on shore. Other serfs were sent to

collect fuel. How good it would be to taste hot food again! On board

the ships no fire could be made; there one lived on dried fish, dried

and smoked meat, and bread which gradually became a trial to their

teeth. That was luxurious fare on board, and tasted well in hungry

mouths. On land it was another story; there they liked to sit round a

smoking pot. The first thing they bought was an ox. Therewith _that_

day was finished.

Leif was very restless; he had to go out and look round the

neighbourhood. He chose a number of his best men, obtained leave to

kill game, and gave himself up to roaming about the woods, not so much

to hunt as to see. He feasted his eyes on the mighty forests and the

beauty of the calm lakes. He drank in joyfully the foreign air, and let

his mind be charmed by the contours of the foreign landscape.

But the unrest in his blood would not be quieted. The wonderful

perfume from all the growths of the earth, the sight of the luxurious

overarching fruit-trees in blossom, the fragrant scent of the meadows,

and the profusion everywhere of brightly coloured flowers--all these

combined to intoxicate him. Besides, he obtained wine, which he had

never tasted before, and was transported in gladness and forgetfulness.

He also looked with restless curiosity in the bright, promising eyes of

many delightful young women--eyes which tempted like ripe fruit.

When a week had passed in this way, Ingolf spoke to him in a friendly

and smiling fashion, and reminded him that he was forgetting to trade.

Leif was a little embarrassed by his smile, and suddenly became very

busy. It was true he had completely forgotten to trade. He went to the

market and looked at the wares. And when he saw there a quantity of

silk goods and richly elaborated ornaments of gold, silver, and gilded

bronze, he remembered Helga, gave himself up to trade, and forgot to

chaffer about the things. He bought many ornaments. As soon as he had

bought one, he fell in love with another. He bought precious stones,

costly clothes, and delicate silks. Then his eye fell on some artistic

gold-embroidered stuffs he had never seen the like of, and he bought

a quantity of them. Glasswares of different kinds, goblets, vessels,

and pearls were also a speciality; of them he had to make a copious

selection. He enjoyed this new experience of looking at things and then

buying them. An article which he had never seen before, and had not

the faintest idea that it existed in the world, became suddenly his

property, and assumed life and significance. That gave expansion to

his mind.

Ingolf kept an eye upon him, and amused himself in his quiet way at

his method of trading. In commerce as in everything else Leif was

simplicity itself, and never learnt to use his reason or to keep within

bounds. Ingolf let him go on till he found he had gone far enough; then

he put the brakes on.

"Give me now rather power to trade with your wares," he proposed to

him. "You are no good at trade; you only buy the most unnecessary

things, and let yourself be cheated into the bargain. In the winter you

cannot satisfy your hunger with clothes or allay your thirst with empty

glass goblets." Leif saw that he was right, and willingly granted him

the desired authority. He had bought many things, and felt like a king.

Already he pictured to himself his homecoming. First he would give

Helga a single article such as he did not possess many of. She would

kiss him, and her face would be tinged with a delicate red, as was the

case when she was happy or emotionally stirred. Then he would come with

another thing and still another, till Helga stood speechless with her

eyes full of tears. Then he would draw her to himself....

It seemed to him a very long, dreary summer he was approaching. As he

was in the act of leaving the market his eye fell on an ornament with

carved figures of gilt bone. He felt he must have it, even if it cost

three bearskins. Ingolf intervened in the matter, and Leif obtained the

ornament for one bearskin. So he was at length satisfied and gave up

all further trading. Then he roamed round again in the woods with his

little following, or simply lay and dozed, and let longing and delight

pass like swift breezes through his mind. "Ah, England," he thought,

"your land is fertile and your women are beautiful."

He wished gradually that he could live and be married in all the lands

of the earth--preferably all at once. He dreamt much of women at that

time. He imbibed their various charms with much appreciation. But

sometimes his longing for Helga drove all others out of his mind. Helga

sat at home and was faithful to him, and awaited him with longing.

How did the days pass with her? His heart began to beat heavily and

with a feeling of guilt regarding her. She possessed him once for all.

She was his. Yes, she was like the year, and the other women were

like days--the fleeting days. He compared in his thoughts all the

different women, who had made an impression on him, with Helga. One by

one they faded and disappeared as he remembered Helga, who was his.

They disappeared--yes! But it is to be observed that this lasted only

till he saw them again, when they again kindled his restlessness and

manifold longing.

The day came when the trade-truce was over. Haasten did not think there

was any reason to prolong it, and consulted Ingolf on the subject.

Ingolf answered that they had bought what they wanted, and agreed with

him. So the hostages were returned on both sides with many precautions,

and the Viking-ships, disburdened of their cargoes, rowed out of the

bay and hoisted sail. But they only sailed away for appearance' sake.

By night they ran into another bay. They had a great desire to get some

spoil along the fertile coast. But they did not return unexpected. The

chief of the district, foreseeing this possibility, had collected all

his people, and now stood ready to meet them on the shore. Haasten

thought it safer not to attempt a landing where so many opposed them,

and ordered the ships to row out of the bay again.

The old Vikings grumbled, his brothers were silent, and Leif foamed

with rage. But Haasten did not care at all. He remained lying outside

the bay for two days and nights. The weather was calm, and not suitable

for sailing. He held the chief and his people bound to the spot. Then

what he expected happened. A powerful wind made it possible to set sail

at once, to run down along the coast quicker than the people on shore

could follow, to anchor up the mouth of a river, and to have the crews

drawn up on land in battle-array before the main force of the people of

the district could get there.

Haasten had only allowed a few men to remain on board, but his force

was far inferior in numbers to that of the defenders. The fight took

place in a flat meadow along the river. Haasten quickly saw that he had

undertaken more than he could manage. These native troops had obviously

encountered the Vikings before. Haasten quickly gave his people orders

to take refuge on board; he did not wish to run the risk of losing men

so early in the summer.

Leif and Holmsten happened to be near one another in the fight. Each

quickly discovered how bravely and boldly the other fought, and that

fact, together with the circumstance that they here stood side by side

in a battle for life and death, drew them nearer to each other, and

banished for a while all hate towards Holmsten out of Leif's mind. They

were vexed at the order to go on board with their task unperformed, but

obeyed.

When they were safe, Holmsten said: "Listen, Leif; let us take a pair

of the smallest and swiftest ships, and make a trip on our own account

along the coast."

Leif immediately agreed. Haasten bade them do as they liked, but to be

careful not to be too long away. But Ingolf gave his vote against the

expedition.

"Let the boys amuse themselves a little," Haasten said, with a smile.

"It will do them good. They fight smartly by themselves. And we will

give them some good men." Since Haasten promised that the other ships

should follow them as soon as a great part of the enemy's forces had

dispersed in order to follow the two game-cocks' movements, Ingolf

yielded, although with reluctance.

When the chiefs on shore saw two small ships separate themselves from

the fleet and sail away, they believed that it was a stratagem, and

dispatched only a small force from the place to keep an eye on them.

Haasten had reckoned on this, and now Ingolf's anxiety was partly

quieted.

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."