Holmsten stopped and looked round him. H_The Sworn Brothers: A Tale of the Early Days of Iceland

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.

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."

Ingolf remembered that Leif had kept his word with regard to Atle's

sons. There was no longer any reason not to put full trust in Leif's

promises, even if, in accordance with his whole character, they were

given a little hastily, and apparently without thought. And if only

Leif kept his promise, there was no special reason to be anxious about

him. In a battle which was not too unequal, he was safe enough, unless

the Norns had destined his death, or Odin had marked him out. For

against the gods and goddesses of fate the best man fought in vain.

When the matter had been thus decided, Leif began seriously to prepare

for the journey. The goods which Ingolf had collected at the beginning

of winter completely filled three ships. All that remained was to

select the crews and to take care to keep the ships fit for sailing.

When Leif told Helga that he was going, she merely nodded assentingly

and smiled at him. But her quivering smile concealed bitter grief and

great anxiety. Helga knew Leif--ah! she knew him. This Leif of hers was

a man whom no bond could hold. That was his character. And she did not

wish to spoil his happiness by seeking to hold him fast. Never should

he guess what she suffered when she saw him sail away. Never would she

mention her sense of loss and the anxiety she suffered during the time

she must be without him. Separation and longing were integral parts of

the happiness she shared with Leif. So young Helga smiled bravely and

helped Leif with his preparations for the journey, giving him cheerful

words on the way. But she never showed him her anxiety, and concealed

her grief till she was alone.

One day in spring, when the wind blew freshly over the fjord, Leif

sailed away with three ships. He stood on the poop and wondered that he

had never thought before how hard it would be to part from Helga.

His old countryman clapped him on the shoulder and said: "On a voyage

it is best to keep the salt water outside the ship."

Leif smiled with a wry face. His heart had not yet been hardened. Helga

stood on the edge of the shore and saw the striped sails bellying in

the breeze. The ships lay slanting on the water. They glided along as

if in play, and became so quickly smaller.

Helga stood alone on the shore. All the others who had been down to bid

farewell to those departing had gone back again to the house. Helga

stood there alone with the breeze. Everything was green and cheerful

around her. Trees stood covered with new leaves, and flowers grew again

from the ground. And there sailed Leif, taking the summer away with him.

When Helga could not see the ships any more, she at last gave up.

Helplessly she let herself drop down on the young grass. All power had

suddenly left her. She could not even weep. She remained lying there

long with her heart beating violently.

The day after Leif had sailed, Olmod the Old landed at Orn's house. He

had five ships, and was on a Viking expedition. He was able to inform

Ingolf that of Atle's sons Haasten was remaining at home that summer.

He further said that he had heard that Leif was going alone that

summer, and he wished to have joined him. When he heard that Leif had

already sailed he hastened to go on, wishing to overtake him.

That spring came young King Harald sailing north along the coast. He

had made a vow not to let his hair be cut till he had reduced the whole

of Norway to submission, and was therefore by some called Harald Luva,

and by others Harald Haarfager. Whatever part of the country he came

across, he called his own. Kings and chiefs had to submit with a good

or with a bad grace. All men from the lowest to the highest became his

tributaries. He made laws, and appointed chiefs over districts to take

care that the laws were obeyed. Harald met with no opposition either in

the hills or the fjords. All the Jarls became his subjects.

But there were other chiefs who murmured, and considered that Harald

paid scant respect to the law and ancient land-rights. These Harald

dealt with hardly. He killed them when he could lay hold of them, and

took from them their property without mercy. Many of these chiefs had

no other resources, if they wished to preserve their lives and freedom,

but to leave the country. They sailed in numbers for the Faroe Islands,

the Orkneys, Hjaltland, the Southern Islands, together with the British

Isles and Ireland.

King Harald found many a Norwegian neck that preferred to be broken

rather than bend. Although himself the most obstinate of all, he would

not endure obstinacy in others. There was but one King of Norway, and

that King's name was Harald!

VII

Leif had not sailed long before a great quiet came over him. Alone with

the sea, and his own master! No one to obey! No one to consider! That

was something to his taste, and under such circumstances there was no

room in his heart for care and longing. Successive days awoke him, each

with its own voice. Hungry in soul and body he crept each morning out

of his sleeping-bag.

It suited his plans to sail to the British Isles; accordingly he was

on his way thither. Otherwise he might have sailed to the land far

toward the west which a beggar had once told him of. The only objection

was that, according to the narrator, there were no people to trade

with there and no one to pillage. He was out on a trading and Viking

expedition. Besides, it was an absurd country, so entirely without

inhabitants. If ever he had time and opportunity he might still wish

to take a closer view of it. "Iceland," the beggar had called it, and

had prophesied that he should some day see it. He wished to be certain

about it, but it lay so far out of the way that he could not well

include it in his voyage that summer.

If he did, he ran the risk of being obliged to spend the winter there.

And he could not endure the idea of a whole winter without Helga. But

he emphasized the fact to himself that if he now let Iceland alone, it

was an act of his own free will.

The land out there in the west would not run away, so whether one

went there a summer earlier or later was a point of minor importance.

Leif, now voyaging alone, came to be quite intimate with the sea. He

enjoyed standing at the helm and feeling the ship under his hand. He

liked best sailing with all sails spread, and cutting his way through

the water as it foamed. It was to him a great delight to sail in such

a way that even old and experienced Vikings opened watchful eyes. He

tortured his dragon-ship till it seemed to him the sea held its breath,

ready to close its foaming jaws round its prey. When he thus kept his

ship rocking right on the edge of destruction, clutching the quivering

tiller fast in his thin hand, his heart felt light in his breast. He

felt himself like a ruler over the sea.

The old Vikings watched Leif closely, and found that they had in him

a guide after their own heart. They winked admiringly at each other

when he sailed his maddest. His reckless courage filled them with

expectation. They showed great willingness in obeying his wishes and

orders. His young voice sounded sharply and pleasantly in their ears.

They took Leif's measure secretly and thoroughly approved of him.

Though he was not so strong in body as warriors generally were, yet men

with such restless eyes were rare. And the strength he had lay in hard

lumps of muscle in the right places. When he greeted or thanked a man

he clutched his hand as with an iron claw.

The Vikings found that they had reason to expect an eventful summer

with much amusement and many dangers. They thought without regret

that some of them might find their way to Odin before this Viking

expedition was over. They had not much objection to sitting round the

golden-bristled boar, though it should be this very winter.

Meanwhile, Leif had formed a fixed idea that he would show Ingolf

he could trade and get on in foreign lands on his own account.

Accordingly, when he got there, he showed a caution which was not

really according to his own mind, and which the Vikings had not

expected. He traded with great foresight, bought chiefly corn and

other necessary commodities, including wine and honey. He was also, in

pursuance of his promise to Ingolf, cautious with regard to engaging in

battle.

His men had expected great things in the direction of depredations on

the coast, and were to a certain extent disappointed.

Leif had comparatively few men, and he did not engage in unequal

warfare. In order, however, to get some booty, he practised unexpected

attacks with quite a few picked men. With five or six followers he

would row ashore in a boat in out-of-the-way spots. If they succeeded

in getting on shore unobserved they began to steal forward by remote

paths and through deep and dark woods. These were occasions of

incredible excitement and secret joy.

It was possible for days and nights to pass without so small a force.

And when they had at last found a their finding a place adapted

for making an attack with place, a considerable time might pass in

watching for an opportunity. But when their well-prepared attack at

length took place, it was overwhelming and irresistible. Even old and

experienced Vikings had to acknowledge that they had never before taken

part in such bold and exciting expeditions. And they loved Leif for

the happiness he provided them in their old age. There was constant

emulation among Leif's men to get leave to accompany him on these

forays. But Leif showed an immovable firmness and foresight in choosing

his companions. It was counted a great honour to be among those chosen.

The summer passed in sailing to and fro along the coasts of England and

Ireland.

Leif diligently avoided collisions with other Vikings. There were, as a

rule, many following him, and he never could be secure from an attack.

It was therefore best to exhibit suitable caution. For the rest, he

slept peacefully in his bearskin bag at night. Should it happen that

he was involved in a fight without his own fault, he had nothing to do

with that. In many places where he came, he found that Haersten and

Holmsten had been just before him with their six ships. Leif took no

real trouble to overtake them. He remembered his promise to Ingolf,

and had resolved to put his trust in chance. Chance had before shown

him considerable kindness. But when, towards the close of summer, he

directed his course homewards, chance had not yet come to his help.

It was therefore with a certain disappointment in his mind that he

turned homeward from his summer expedition. It was indeed no small

disappointment to him that fate had not allowed him to meet Atle's sons.

Olmod the Old, who, as has been related, was voyaging with a fleet of

five ships, made inquiries about his kinsman, Leif, wherever he went.

In many places Leif had been just before him, but had sailed again no

one knew whither.

Olmod the Old was continually on his scent, and sailed, so to speak,

in his wake the whole summer, though without any success in overtaking

him. He vowed offerings and gifts to Odin if he would help him to find

his kinsman. But Odin seemed to have turned his eyes from him.

Olmod kept himself likewise informed concerning the voyage of Atle's

sons. From their movements he could not ascertain whether they intended

evil against Leif or not. It did not really look as if they were

following him. Perhaps they did not know what direction he was taking,

but Olmod considered it best to be on the watch.

Late in the summer, Olmod lost every trace of Leif. But as a

compensation he so nearly succeeded in overtaking Atle's sons that he

at last caught a glimpse of their ships making out to sea on their way

home. It seemed to Olmod that they were sailing rather early. Were they

thinking of concealing themselves among the rocks and islands off the

coast and giving Leif a warm reception when he turned home? Olmod the

Old was from his own experience not unacquainted with stratagems. He

kept a sharp eye on Atle's sons.

For some time he kept his ships hidden in a creek near the ordinary

route in order to catch Leif, if possible. At last he could wait no

longer. Leif, he thought, must have turned homeward by some other way,

and as good sailing weather just then set in, he directed his course

towards Norway. He had come to the conclusion that the safest thing

was to try to find Atle's sons, or at any rate to get news of them. If

he found that they had sailed the direct way home, there was scarcely

anything to fear from them that autumn.

On a dark and stormy autumn day, with clouds driving across the sky

and a tossing sea, Leif came sailing past Hisargavl. He was sailing

along, thinking of his disappointment, when he suddenly found himself

surrounded by ships bearing down upon him with their battle-ensigns

hoisted. For the sake of his promise, Leif counted the ships; they

were six in number. He looked closer at them, and recognized them as

those of Atle's sons. Then Leif felt a great contentment fill his

mind. Here at last came his friends, the sons of Atle. And luckily

all chance of flight was excluded. It would have been vexatious if he

had had to break his word, but now it was all right. For Ingolf could

not expect of him that he should surrender unconditionally in order

to avoid battle with Atle's sons. He gathered his ships together and

commanded them to lower sail; quickly he had boards for defence fixed

on the quarter-deck, and cleared the ships for action. He went about

and became gradually agitated with excitement and happy expectation. At

last--at last the opportunity had come for seriously exchanging blows

with Holmsten. One of them should in any case be a guest of Odin that

evening. How he was to manage with his three ships against the six of

Atle's sons did not worry Leif much.

While he issued his orders, he had only eyes for Holmsten's

dragon-ship. There Holmsten came, also in a state of excitement. Now

the long boat-hooks could reach the gunwale on Holmsten's ship. "Pull

hard, men!" Leif had a great longing to salute Holmsten. The first

spear whistled through the air. From both sides it was greeted with

cheerful battle cries and gay laughter.

At length the two dragon-ships lay side by side, rocking violently

upon the grey sea. Blows and shouts were exchanged above the high

quarter-deck boards. Leif pushed his men roughly to one side. He had

set eyes on Holmsten. A spear whistled past his ear, and he heard

Holmsten laugh and shout: "There is a spear in place of the one you

sank here last autumn."

Leif twisted himself to one side, seized the spear, aimed at Holmsten,

and sent it back. "I have enough weapons, friend Holmsten! I will test

the ax you once gave me on your own skull." Holmsten avoided the spear

at the last moment by a leap to one side.

Now Leif was close to the gunwale. The fight went on energetically

on both sides of him. The ships reeled violently and crashed noisily

against each other. Salt spray concealed now and then the hot faces.

Leif held his ax raised and shook it towards Holmsten. "Now, when I

cleave your head before long, it will not be through carelessness!

Remember that, Holmsten."

Holmsten laughed derisively. He could not properly reach Leif because

of his men. "It will double my joy, friend Leif, to know you are lying

cold at the bottom of the sea, by the side of your spear, while your

friend Helga makes me comfortable."

Leif leaped up on the quarter-deck boards, swinging his ax high over

his head, but was forced back. He tried again and again, but was met by

a wall of weapons. One of Atle's sons' other ships hooked itself fast

on to the other side of the dragon-ship. The battle raged furiously

along both gunwales.

During an involuntary pause in the battle, Leif found time to look

round him a little. One of his ships was already overpowered, and the

other surrounded by three of the enemy's smaller ships; his own was so

hard pressed that it was obviously only a question of how long he could

hold out.

Leif saw clearly how untenable his position was. He did not envy Atle's

sons their victory. He called those who had followed him on many bold

expeditions to him, and said in a choked voice: "If we are going to

Valhalla, friends, let us take Holmsten with us, and as many of his men

as we can!"

So he stormed the gunwale, followed by his best men, and succeeded in

obtaining a foothold on Holmsten's dragon-ship. And now Leif was at his

ease. Generously he dealt out blows and thrusts, and devoted himself

energetically to the battle. He saw his men falling round him, and he

himself had several wounds which he had not time to think about. He was

not afraid of death, but meant to take Holmsten with him.

While Leif stood there, and dealt doughty blows around him in order

to get at Holmsten, there came in sight a fleet of five ships by

Hisargavl. The five ships were sailing swiftly, and the water foamed

round their bows as they approached. At last Olmod the Old was about to

overtake Leif. And he had bestirred himself, as it appeared. He gave

himself no time to survey the situation, but drove his ships right

in among the combatants. In his green cloak, with a golden helmet on

his head, he stood in a dignified attitude by the mast and issued his

orders.

"It looks as if you wanted a little help, Cousin Leif!" he shouted in

the joy of battle. All other talking he left to his weapons.

Haersten saw quickly that his position was untenable, and gave orders

for flight. But it was by no means so easy to get away in a moment.

Holmsten's ship soon lay wedged in between those of Leif and Olmod the

Old. Leif made use of the confusion which ensued among Holmsten's men

at suddenly finding enemies on both sides, and made his way close up

to Holmsten. When Holmsten saw him coming, he prepared to receive him

in his cool and quiet way. But now Leif had become quite wild. When it

seemed that he could not get forward quickly enough, he flung his ax

at Holmsten's face. Holmsten dropped his weapons, threw up his arms,

reeled, and fell.

Leif's joy at seeing Holmsten fall was so great that he forgot to be on

his guard. One of his men pushed a shield in front of him just in time.

The shield was cloven by the blow of an ax, intended for Leif. But Leif

was not to die that day. Now he was himself again, picked up his ax,

and continued the attack. After Holmsten's fall the opposition was soon

broken.

A couple of Olmod's ships had recovered the ship Atle's sons had won

from Leif. Olmod secured for himself Holmsten's ship as a reward for

his trouble, and in order to be able to provide offerings and gifts to

Odin. The remainder of Atle's sons' ships escaped in disorder.

Olmod came across Leif where he was sitting and binding up his wounds.

"You are bleeding much, cousin, and can be glad that you still have

blood to bleed."

"That I owe to you, Cousin Olmod. What lucky wind was that which blew

you here, just when you were most needed?"

"Ask, rather, what freak was it of Odin's that he did not let me

overtake you before. I came to Dalsfjord the day after you sailed, and

have pursued you in vain all the summer."

Leif looked up hastily. A sudden fear shot through him.

"What did you want me for?"

"That you have seen."

Leif was quiet again. "Nothing more?" he asked.

"Don't you think I had cause enough? Did you expect me to follow your

tedious tracks, the whole summer, merely to bring you a greeting from

Helga?"

Leif rose and drew a bracelet off his arm. It was for Olmod. He brought

forth his most valuable things, resolved to give Olmod all the best he

had. Objections were useless. When Leif gave, he gave what he had, and

kept nothing back till he had no more.

"Finally, don't think that by killing Holmsten and putting Haersten to

flight you have finished with Atle's sons," Olmod said warningly. "I

think, Cousin Leif, you had better come home and spend the winter with

me."

Leif thanked him warmly for the invitation. "It is such a short way

home to the fjords that I don't care about making a circuit. But What

if you came home with me and remained with us for the winter, Cousin

Olmod?"

But Olmod declined. A whole winter in one and the same place did not

tempt him at all. "You brothers have enough friends round you, but be

careful, cousin. I should be surprised if Haersten let the grass grow

over the matter he has to settle with you. I am glad that this time

I could be a little use to you, Leif. You have rewarded my help, as

one might expect from you, spendthrift that you are! May good fortune

follow you wherever you go."

Olmod and Leif parted with great friendliness, and each sailed to his

own home.

VIII

It was really a surprise to Ingolf when he heard from his brother what

had happened at Hisargavl. He had gradually come to fear a collision

between Leif and Atle's sons. He did not trust Atle's sons any more

since the feast of the previous winter. With a gloomy and slightly

absent expression he heard Leif's account to the end. "I do not grieve

for Holmsten," he said severely, when Leif finished. "I am glad that

both brothers did not escape alive from the game. The Norns often

strike accurately."

"It was by my ax that Holmsten fell," Leif answered curtly. "I will not

share the honour of having slain him with any one, not even with the

Norns!"

Ingolf smiled, but there was no laughter in his mind.

"The most important point, Leif, is that you returned home alive," he

said cordially. "Thank yourself for it, but allow me to thank the gods

and goddesses of fate."

Helga was very quiet when Leif told her about the battle. There rose in

her soul a yet greater tenderness towards him. Every day, yes, every

hour, with Leif became precious. A foreboding told her that Leif was

scarcely destined to live long. Her happiness was like the flying birds.

Orn became quite enlivened by hearing of the fight at Hisargavl. Ingolf

related it to him with much detail. As soon as he had finished, Orn

demanded to have the whole told over again. It was entirely after his

mind--a proof that the race was not extinct. He put many questions and

asked for incidents. Time after time, when the talk concerned Leif, he

nodded approvingly. When his curiosity was at last satisfied, he sat

silent and thoughtful, and still kept nodding to himself.

Rodmar sat in his darkness and heard the account through at one

sitting. When Ingolf began again, he sighed deeply, rose, and,

supported on his two sticks, tottered to his chamber and crept into

bed. He could not understand that there was still so much disturbance

in the world.

When Ingolf came out again from his father he was silent and

thoughtful. He sought Leif, and found him in Helga's room. Ingolf sat

down silently by his side and remained for a while without speaking.

"Now Haasten remains behind with one arm," he said at last, in a

subdued tone, more as though speaking to himself than to the others.

Helga looked hastily at him. "One must feel a great longing after a

brother one loves," she said quietly.

Leif laughed sarcastically. "It will scarcely be a one-armed Haasten

who comes out to take vengeance for Holmsten."

Ingolf looked at him. There was a troubled, but firm and quiet, look

in his eye. "I should be surprised if Haasten took vengeance," Leif

laughed scornfully. Ingolf rose quietly and said: "But it would be best

to be on our guard against Haersten."

Ingolf took home to the chief house as many of his own and Leif's men

as could be spared from the rest of their property. Moreover, he

collected his friends from the surrounding district. He always had

many people round him in the winter. He set guards on all the roads to

secure himself against an unexpected attack, and for the rest watched

events quietly.

What had happened, had happened, and could not be altered. And whose

fault was it? Neither his nor his sworn brother's, it seemed to him.

He made offerings to Odin and Thor, and relied on them and on the good

luck of the family.

Already, on the day after his arrival, Leif had to go to bed. For a

considerable time he had to keep quiet. He suffered a good deal from

his wounds. They were on various parts of his body, so that it was

difficult for him to find rest.

Leif was not good at keeping quiet. He was tormented by an intolerable

impatience. Time after time when his wounds were on the point of

healing up they opened again, because of his want of care. The fever

which accompanied the wounds had a wearing effect both on his flesh and

his temper. He became even more bony and thin than he had been before.

Long and wasted he lay there in bed, and vexed himself over the loss of

the days, of which he was unjustly deprived.

Helga nursed him patiently, and always sat by him. That was the only

thing which reconciled him with this kind of existence. He could not

look away from her even for a moment. Leif discovered that there was

a happiness and soothing effect in the touch of Helga's hands, which

he had not hitherto known. All the time he had to have her hands busy

about him. Leif was not easy to manage. In vain did Helga beg and pray

him to leave the bandages alone and not continually look at his wounds

at the wrong time. At last she went in despair to Ingolf, and Ingolf

found a means. On the same day that Helga had spoken to him, he said

to Leif in his usual composed manner: "Your wounds are a long time

healing, Cousin Leif. You will hardly be fit for fighting by the time

Haersten attacks us." That was effectual. Ingolf knew his brother. From

that day Leif lay rigidly still and did not touch the bandages. With a

mighty effort he kept his mind in control and curbed his impatience.

With a mysterious smile in her eyes, which Leif could not understand,

Helga continued to nurse him. Leif could not make out why her eyes

had suddenly become so bright. Here he lay, tortured both outwardly

and inwardly. One would think that was nothing to be amused at. At

last he asked her plainly, and in a rather morose tone, why she was so

cheerful. Helga laughed, and promised to tell him as soon as his wounds

were healed; for now that could hardly be long. Leif sighed. It seemed

to him that already the time had been incomprehensively long.

At last the day came when Leif could go about on his legs again. But

it was plain that he had quite got out of the habit of going with his

head high and his legs down. His head was not so high aloft, and his

legs tottered. He had to laugh at them. They were really silly legs--to

speak plainly--miserable legs of dough. He went about laughing and

waddling, and was obliged every minute to sit down and rest his legs.

He had never guessed that such a simple thing as walking could become

so difficult.

But one day it was difficult no longer, and Leif rapidly forgot both

his sickness and his weakness.

What was Haersten about? It seemed to Leif plain that he had a claim

that Haersten should come now, and quickly. Now that he was in a

condition to receive him in a suitable manner, he began to long for him

deeply.

Leif went and exercised his arm-muscles by cutting logs for the fire.

Ah! So he intended to split Haersten's head. But Haersten still kept

them waiting. It was not according to Leif's mind to go and wait for

an attack, which did not come. Had he had sufficient hope that Ingolf

would go with him on a journey to Gaulum he would have proposed it. In

his leisure time Leif imagined for himself an attack on Atle Jarl and

his sons, picturing it down to the minutest details. He would himself

strike down Haersten and Atle Jarl. But he would prefer to let Haasten

escape with his life. It was a shame that such a splendid plan of

attack should always be shipwrecked on Ingolf's obstinacy.

At last Haersten came. It was lucky that Ingolf had set guards upon

the roads. Haersten did not come alone. He had planned his attack with

care. He wished to wait till the brothers perhaps might not be so much

on the alert. And he wished to come with a picked and numerous band,

which it took time to assemble secretly, as the sworn brothers had

friends also in those parts. Haersten had resolved that _one_ life was

too little compensation for Holmsten. They should both die. Preferably

he would strike them both to earth with his own hand.

Haersten had to do without Haasten's help in planning and carrying out

his attack. On the other hand, Haasten did not put difficulties in his

way. Haasten gave his mind to taking what vengeance he could, and to

the extent he was able. "But my mind and my sense of justice tell me,"

he said, "not to go with you against the sworn brothers."

Haersten asked him whether his mind and his sense of justice did not

also bid him to leave both his brothers unavenged in case he also

should fall. Haasten answered him that time would show, but that it was

conceivable.

"It might seem that you care more for Ingolf than for your own

brothers," Haersten said coldly.

"I have a great regard for Ingolf," answered Haasten. "You brothers

were not afraid to profit by your greater force when you attacked Leif."

So the conversation ended. When Haersten had quietly collected as many

men as he thought would ensure a victory over the sworn brothers,

even if he found them prepared, he started one night and took the

way to Dalsfjord. He advanced by secret paths, and hid in the woods.

He marched only by night, resting by day. But though he showed all

possible caution, Ingolf's guards got news of his expedition. They

were able to inform Ingolf in time that Haersten was approaching with

a numerous following. In great haste the brothers collected a still

larger number, and marched against him to meet him before he expected

it. The encounter took place one winter morning on the heath. Haersten

and his men had spent the night on the outskirts of the wood. It was

a still morning, with mild air, and the ground was heavy. The weather

was admirably adapted for a battle, save that the snow became slippery

when it had been trodden hard. Haersten and the sworn brothers prepared

themselves, each on his own side, for a trial of strength, in all

quietness and at their leisure. The result of the battle was of great

importance to both parties, and they urged their men to be cautious and

keep together.

Haersten seemed to seek Leif. And Leif was not the man to avoid a

willing opponent. It was not long before they stood opposite each

other, both fierce and vigilantly watching. But the fight between

them was of short duration. They had only exchanged a few blows, and

neither of them had yet been wounded, when Haersten slipped on the

smooth ground. In the same instant Leif's ax descended on his neck.

Haersten fell and remained lying. Red blood streamed profusely out of a

deep wound in his neck. Smoking, it oozed into the cold white snow and

formed holes with reddish edges. Thus fell Haersten.

When he had fallen, Ingolf had the trumpet blown for a truce, and

invited Haersten's followers to go in peace. As no one wished for

more fighting, Haersten's men marched, carrying his body, from their

unsuccessful attempt, back to Gaulum.

Leif was quite jubilant. He never remembered having been so glad. Now

he had avenged the attack at Hisargavl, and settled all the rest of

the account which he had with Atle's sons. There was a high degree of

intoxication in his mind. He composed and sang with a strong voice a

victor's song.

But Ingolf did not show any joy at the victory. He was silent and

thoughtful. As soon as he had returned home with his men, he went to

his father and told him of Haersten's fall. "It will not be in the neck

of Atle's sons alone that Leif's ax has struck wounds," screamed Orn,

with his heavy cutting voice, when he had heard Ingolf to the end.

"Trust me! It is all over with our peace in Dalsfjord. Even though we

have many friends, Atle Jarl and Haasten will in the long run prove

too strong for us. Make peace with Haasten, my son, before it is too

late. For old friendship's sake he will be satisfied with taking your

property and driving you away from this district. I am too old, I

know, to leave Dalsfjord myself. But don't you trouble about that. I

am full of days, and will die soon. I had a foreboding that Leif would

cause misfortune. But he is a plucky fellow. And what has happened has

happened. Let me see him."

It had never been the case before that Orn had wished to see Leif. Once

the sight of Leif had been to him a plague and an unceasing source of

annoyance. Now he wished to see him. Leif was called, and willingly let

himself be inspected by Orn's red, inflamed, swollen eyes. His spirits

were so cheerful that he felt impelled to show himself friendly even

towards Orn.

"Your appearance does not answer to your exploits," Orn exclaimed. "You

are rather slight in body to be a warrior. But, at any rate, I will

give you Helga since she wants you. Take her and marry her, but do it

quickly. For I will gladly drink your health at your marriage before I

die. And I shall die soon."

Leif smiled and thanked him and was very friendly. It amused him to

think that the permission was really rather superfluous. But that day

he did not wish for any trouble. Haersten's death made him feel so

prosperous and benevolent.

Ingolf had all day long been meditating. In the evening he asked Leif

to speak with him in private.

"What do you think of sending messengers to Haasten and offering him an

agreement on terms to be fixed by himself?" he asked quietly.

"That seems to me to be unnecessary weakness to submit the matter to

Haasten's decision alone," answered Leif arrogantly. "If he wishes to

pay us a call we shall know how to receive him."

"You forget, brother," said Ingolf calmly, but in a troubled voice,

"that only in the utmost extremity can I use weapons against Haasten.

You have deprived him of both his brothers. Even apart from the manner

in which it happened it is a great loss for him. I, for my own part,

will gladly purchase peace with Haasten at the price which he agrees

upon."

The tone of Ingolf's voice moved Leif to the heart. "If you, for your

part, wish to submit to Haasten's decision, I dare say I can consent,"

he said, in a compliant tone. "Hitherto I have not lost by letting you

decide matters."

Ingolf chose the men whom he considered best suited for such a mission,

and bade them go to Gaulum and offer Haasten terms. Haasten received

Ingolf's envoys silently, and without returning their salutations.

They had, however, been his companions on a summer Viking expedition,

and several of them had been his friends. They did not know Haasten

again. He had aged, and all signs of youthfulness had been obliterated

from his face. Though his skin was still soft and smooth it was deeply

furrowed. His look was cold and solitary. When he had heard the object

of their errand, he said in an icy tone: "I will answer some day.

Meanwhile I offer you shelter and food."

Haasten let them wait a whole week for an answer. He had a hard

battle to fight first with his father and then with himself. Atle

Jarl would at first hear nothing about an agreement. He demanded

unconditionally, although coldly and without passion, the lives of

the sworn brothers. He blamed Haasten for what had happened, because

he had at the time refused to follow his advice and offer Ingolf and

Leif blood-brotherhood. Haasten did not answer at length. But he did

not give up till Atle Jarl agreed to lay the matter in his hand. When

Haasten had thus become solely responsible, he had a hard battle

to fight with himself. His family instinct demanded blood and not

compensation. Even multiplied _weregeld_ could not compensate him for

the loss of his brothers. But could Leif's and Ingolf's lives do it

either? The fact was that nothing could compensate for the loss of

his brothers. But large fines might sustain the outward honour of the

family. To bear weapons against Ingolf, who had not committed any

crime, was in itself unthinkable. Besides, Haasten remembered his vow

to decide impartially if at any time a decision should be demanded from

him.

When he had at last arrived at unity with himself he bade Ingolf's

messengers be called, and spoke as follows: "The sworn brothers have

desired me to judge between them and myself. My judgment is this. No

compensation shall be asked for Holmsten because of his unjustified

attack on Leif. But as compensation for Haersten, who went to take

righteous vengeance for his brother, and by doing so lost his life at

Leif's hand, I adjudge to myself all the sworn brothers' real property.

Before three winters have passed they shall have left all their land

and territory and fjords and hills. Otherwise they will be treated as

outlaws wherever they may be found in the district."

The messengers went home and informed the brothers of Haasten's

sentence. When Ingolf had heard it, he said quietly: "That was to be

expected."

Leif, on the other hand, was furious. He never remembered to have heard

of such an unreasonable sentence. Ingolf bade him take the matter

quietly. "The sentence is certainly hard," he said, "but Haasten's loss

is harder. I would not willingly change my circumstances with his."

All bitterness against Haasten vanished comparatively quickly from

Leif's mind. The question, where they should now go and settle,

absorbed him, all at once, so completely that he had no thoughts to

spare for anything else. Leif was glad enough to go and settle in a

new country. One day he wished to go to England. Another day Ireland

had suddenly assumed a great attraction for him. The Faroe Islands,

Hjaltland, the Southern Islands--at least once a day in his thoughts he

settled in all these. All at once the idea of Iceland occurred to him;

strange to think that he had not come upon it at once.

Making a leap in the air, he went there in his own thoughts and settled

in a strange land, and so sought Ingolf in hot haste. "We will go to

Iceland!" he shouted in his delight, and was already absorbed, body and

soul, in his idea. "There we shall have a whole country to ourselves."

"Is it not somewhat lonely?" asked Ingolf, smiling.

Leif thought over that, and conceded that in the long run it might be

rather lonely. "But you will see many will follow after us. Many in

Norway are discontented with Harald, who will not tolerate any will by

the side of his own. The best people will follow us thither--people who

can no more find complete freedom in this country. Harald is already

seeking to kill many of the best men. There his arm cannot reach them.

Sooner or later the land will be colonized; it is said to be fertile.

Let us be the first. Ingolf, do you hear, let us be the first."

There was something in Leif's plan which attracted Ingolf. If he had

to depart and find himself a new dwelling, why not seek it in a new

country? Ingolf the Imperturbable felt his heart beat.

Leif was all fire and flame, and consequently not to be resisted. At

last Ingolf yielded. "We can journey there in the summer and survey

the country," he said.

When Leif had got Ingolf so far, he became wild with joy and dangerous

to approach. Ingolf had to wrestle with him; there was no getting out

of it. A little after they were both lying in the soft snow. When the

wrestle was thus over, they began to pile snow on each other, till they

had to stop for laughing. The boy was uppermost in each of them. They

were happy, and forgot to be troubled and anxious at the loss of their

property. Blood and life surged through them. They could still fight as

in the old days.

Ingolf kept deeply secreted in his heart the image of a young girl.

Her name was Hallveig, and hers was the only woman's look which had

ever stirred his soul. Her grey eyes lived so vividly in his memory, he

could see them before him when he wished. The thought of them made his

usually quiet heart quiver. Her name was Hallveig, and her image was

painfully and distinctly impressed on his mind.

He had seen her for the first time in the preceding winter when, on one

of his trading journeys, he had spent the night at the house of her

father, Frode. And that first time had hitherto been the only one.

He had made the acquaintance of her father, Frode, and her brother,

Lopt, before, at various sacrificial feasts. Lopt and himself had

much in common. Lopt was a quiet and rather reserved man. His whole

appearance bore the stamp of the well-to-do yeoman farmer's firmness

and self-possession. Lopt and Ingolf had always felt attracted by each

other. They were both strong, high-born men without deceit or flaw in

their minds. A mutual consciousness of their inner affinity had from

the beginning brought them near each other.

Thus Ingolf came to the house one winter evening and saw Lopt's sister.

Her name was Hallveig, and she was only eighteen. She was very serious.

Ingolf never saw her smile like other young women. Already her inner

seriousness roused great disquiet in his mind. Hallveig did not go

about lavishing her smiles. Her look was watchful and critical. She

looked at people, and had a scale to weigh them by. One became clear

about one's value under her look. And her look did not flinch nor

change like that of other women when one encountered it. It met one

like a man's. It was in some degree a boy's look, thought Ingolf. He

sat there that evening and could take neither his eyes nor his thoughts

from Hallveig. Lopt and Frode often had to repeat their questions to

him. The whole of Ingolf's listening faculty was turned inward and not

outward. He sat by her side and forgot both them and himself. All that

he knew was that now and then he cast a furtive glance at Hallveig. And

yet he sat the whole time and looked at her. It was the first time that

Ingolf had been in love, and it was of benefit to him. The next day

was fixed for his departure, but he did not go. He was travelling with

important objects, and it would be very extraordinary if he delayed

his journey without special reason. But he remained all the same, and

forgot to give himself or others a reason for it. He simply remained

because it was impossible for him to go that day.

He had a long talk with Hallveig, sitting by her side in the morning.

A little after (so it seemed) he was surprised to find it already

evening. How the day had gone was a puzzle to him. He was lost.

Ingolf did not find it at all surprising that he found such a good

opportunity to talk with Hallveig undisturbed. He had neither time to

notice nor to reflect upon the fact that Lopt and Frode had left them

alone the whole day. He had no idea that any one could look at him and

observe from his behaviour what impression Hallveig had made upon him.

The whole of that day, which he afterwards did not know what had become

of, he sat and talked with Hallveig. Not once did she smile at him.

But there was in her look a charm which surpassed every smile. There

was a warmth in her look and a secret confidence which put him at his

ease. Her nearness filled him with a peculiar quivering consciousness

of security. He felt that there was already a deep intimacy between him

and this woman whom he did not know and yet knew.

The next day Ingolf went on his journey. When he gave Hallveig his

hand at parting their eyes met. The look of both was firm and serious.

Suddenly Hallveig smiled. Her eyes became bright with a beaming smile.

All at once Ingolf perceived that there was something he had forgotten

or neglected--something which could not be omitted. He stood there

with her hand in his, uneasy and irresolute, quite otherwise than he

was accustomed.

But he now already held her hand at departure and must go. Confused

and dissatisfied with himself, and yet at the same time filled with a

tremulous happiness, he went away. Ingolf did not forget Hallveig's

solitary smile. He reflected much whether she had ever given any other

man her smile, in the same way as she had to him. He did not believe

it. But if she had, the man must die.

How Ingolf passed the year, before he returned to Hallveig, he did not

know. It was quite unconsciously that he gave the memory of her time to

grow and blossom in his soul. All that he knew about it was that every

time he had resolved with himself that now he would go to Frode's house

and visit her, his mind was filled with anxiety and unrest. He found

no solid reason for waiting. His longing urged him almost irresistibly

to make the journey. He was also quite certain that he ran a risk by

postponing it. All the same he waited.

At a feast at Gaulum the previous autumn he had met Lopt. During the

three days of the feast they had been inseparable. Quite involuntarily

they had kept together. Once, when the talk had turned on Lopt's

and Frode's affairs, Lopt said, smiling: "We cannot get my sister,

Hallveig, married. She rejects all suitors." As Lopt spoke, Ingolf's

heart began to beat violently and joyfully. The day seemed to expand

around him and become beautiful. The colours of the heavens and

earth crowded at once upon his sight. The air itself became fresh and

reviving. He found no answer to make to Lopt's remark, and therefore

pretended not to have heard him. Soon afterwards he began to talk of

something else. But he did not succeed in deceiving Lopt, who, when

alone, smiled to himself. Soon after Ingolf's meeting with Lopt, Leif

returned from his Viking expedition. Ingolf had enough to do, and was

for a time cut off from all possibility of travelling.

But when the agreement with Haasten was settled, and the journey to

Iceland to look for a residence determined on, it became at once as

impossible for Ingolf to postpone the decisive interview with Hallveig

as it had been for him before to resolve on a visit. Ingolf, according

to his custom, first spoke with his father on the subject. Orn was

highly pleased, and declared himself in every way satisfied with his

choice. "Frode," he said, "is rich and well-born. It is time that

you settled in life. Leif and you can celebrate your marriage in the

autumn. You should not put off the journey for a day. You can go, my

son."

Ingolf went to Leif and asked for his companionship on a journey

without disclosing further the object or the direction of it. Leif

needed no pressing. He was always ready for a journey, he did not care

where. If Ingolf did not reveal to him his object and the place whither

he was bound, it was because he had good reasons for concealing it.

The brothers left home with a select but not very numerous retinue.

Leif received a strong impression that this mysterious journey was

of great importance. Could it possibly be a wooing expedition? Leif

studied Ingolf closely, and came to the conclusion that it was. It

amused him to guess whom Ingolf had pitched upon. He could not make

out. In that respect he knew nothing of Ingolf. Had Ingolf really

fallen in love dumbly and silently? Leif could not picture Ingolf to

himself as an enamoured suitor. In secret he was immensely amused at

his brother's seriousness and taciturnity. But he showed great caution

in his behaviour towards him. He observed that a great deal was at

stake for Ingolf. He surmised that his quiet demeanour was not so

genuine as it usually was.

When one evening they reached Frode's house, Leif did not guess that

they had already arrived at their journey's end. But as soon as he

saw Hallveig, he knew; and he was immediately filled with a warm and

brotherly affection for her.

When Hallveig heard that Ingolf had come, she at once knew the reason.

She put on her finest dress, and displayed her most valuable ornaments.

Any one might think what they would; for her it was a festal day.

In this attire she went to meet Ingolf. Quietly and seriously she

returned his greeting. Her whole manner told Ingolf that he was

expected.

One evening she led Ingolf to her room. The next day Ingolf spoke

with Lopt and Frode, and asked Hallveig in marriage. Frode gave him

his daughter gladly. Lopt said that there was no one he would prefer

as a brother-in-law. They quickly settled all the conditions. The

sworn brothers' loss of their property was not mentioned at the

time. Hallveig was summoned and questioned. Willingly and with deep

earnestness she gave her mind to the matter. When, later on, she was

alone with Ingolf, she wept and kissed him fervently. Ingolf was a

constant surprise to her. Afterwards she smiled at him through her

tears. There was a peculiar power and a complete abandonment in all

her caresses. Ingolf felt beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was

completely his, and for the whole of life. And her demeanour showed

just as certainly that she was happy.

Frode and Lopt celebrated the betrothal by a great feast. Ingolf and

Leif remained a whole week in the house. When they left, the wedding

was fixed for about three weeks later. In accordance with Ingolf's wish

it was to take place in Orn's house, since his father felt too old to

travel.

Ingolf and Hallveig were agreed on having the shortest possible

interval before their marriage. They did not wish to wait a day longer

than necessary, now that they at last had each other. They found it

almost impossible to separate, though it was only for three weeks. They

could not comprehend how they had hitherto been able to live without

each other. Ingolf felt now that the two years which had passed since

he saw Hallveig for the first time were as though lost for him. Yes,

his whole youth seemed as though lost for him since he had not met

Hallveig before.

Never had Ingolf before reflected how short life really was. He had not

measured it with love's measuring-rod.

Orn was peculiarly restless during the first days after Ingolf's

departure. He became gradually alarmed, though he had considered it

the wisest course to conceal his alarm from his son, lest Frode should

perhaps make difficulties, now that the agreement with Haasten had

deprived Ingolf of all his real property. It was quite clear to Orn

that it was on this point the prestige of his family would be tested.

If Frode did not refuse to give his daughter in marriage to a man who

had been judicially deprived of all his landed property, it was because

the man was Ingolf, Orn's son.

As the days passed, and it became evident that the brothers, at any

rate, were not returning at once, Orn became quieter, and with every

succeeding day his calm increased. The continued absence of the

brothers could be only due to their having succeeded in their object.

Orn and Rodmar celebrated this by a justifiable drinking bout. Before

the fumes of their intoxication had quite passed off, Ingolf and Leif

returned home, having, as was apparent, quite succeeded in their

object. Orn and Rodmar went on drinking to celebrate the good news.

Then Orn went to bed and slept for a night and half the following day.

When he had had his sleep out, he began to arrange everything for the

double marriage which was imminent. He also wished to have a hand in

the preparations for the feast. He let all and each know that since the

gods had been so kind as to allow him to celebrate both his children's

weddings, and that at the same time, there should be a feast which

should be known far and wide and be long remembered. He had the temple,

together with every house and every cottage on the estate, swept from

roof to floor, and all the woodwork cleaned. He himself selected

the cattle and the swine which should be fattened for the feast. He

tasted the liquors brewed, measured out the meal and the corn, and was

everywhere.

Rodmar was homeless in all this disquiet. He tried his old device of

going to bed and keeping himself to himself in his darkness. He counted

the days and was morose. About three weeks were to be occupied with

preparations for the wedding, and then a week with the festivities

themselves. Rodmar drained his drinking-horn deep. The future looked

very empty to him.

Orn sent Leif and Ingolf out to invite people to the feast. They spent

many days in travelling from house to house. Orn questioned them every

evening as to where they had been, and made plans for the next day. He

was indefatigable. A peculiar excitement, which he did not remember to

have felt before a festival since his early youth, deprived him of his

appetite for food, and partly also of his tendency to drink. He was

about from early morning to late in the evening. All the same, it was

difficult for him to sleep at night.

Helga sat in her room and sewed at her bridal dress. Every hour of

leisure which Leif found he spent there with her. He was considerate

towards Helga, and avoided disturbing her with talk or caresses. He

could stand for hours together and watch her, as she sat and sewed,

eager and absorbed, with busy hands and hot cheeks. Leif was very happy

at that time. But as soon as he had not Helga before his eyes, he could

not realize that in a few days they should be man and wife, and had to

go in again and watch her sewing the bridal dress.

Orn had the banqueting hall draped with costly tapestry, and shields

hung up.

At last the day dawned. And the same day spring made its entry with

southern winds and genial temperature. Already from the early morning

guests began to assemble at the house. Somewhat before noon came Frode

with his daughter and son and a splendid retinue. Then the wedding

could begin. With eight days' unbroken festivities the marriage bonds

between Ingolf and Hallveig, Helga and Leif, were sealed.

Frode showed great gladness at the connection, and celebrated his

daughter's marriage with all the customary sports and pageants. Orn

only celebrated his son's with sacrificial feasts, with, as became

a host, the usual meals and drinking bouts. The meals were many and

luxurious, and the drinking bouts were long. Quantities of mead and

wine were drunk, and many swine and oxen eaten, besides game and other

food common at festivals.

Once more Orn was able to sit in stately fashion in the high-seat and

preside over a feast. During the days of this festival Frode shared the

high-seat with him. They knew each other well by the wounds received in

their youth and manhood. Many cheerful memories were revived, and they

shared in great friendliness their drink and the high-seat.

Orn had become an old man. Age had bent his back, made his face puffy,

and dulled his hearing. Nevertheless, he wore an air of dignity on

such an occasion. The chieftain was uppermost in him, and his natural

courage blazed up in one last victorious flame. Ingolf had rather

feared that his father would not be equal to preserving his dignified

bearing through such a trying festival, but his fear proved groundless.

Orn rallied all his powers and held out. He took part in every meal.

He emptied his drinking-horn at every health. He sat as host in the

high-seat, and still on the last day of the feast his spirits were

unequalled, his thinking power unaffected. He held out till the last

guest had left the place. Then the spring had already done its work.

The snow had gone. Everywhere one caught glimpses of the first signs of

summer's approaching splendour.

The next day Orn lay dead in his bed. His right hand clasped the knife

with which he had just succeeded in cutting the sign of the Hammer on

his breast. He had secured his seat in Valhalla.

Thus died Orn. His death did not especially surprise Ingolf or any one

else. Age and debility had during the last years handled him roughly.

In spite of all, he had been a chieftain to the end.

It was very still in the house after Orn's death. His harsh, irascible

voice was suddenly lost in a great silence. And this silence was doubly

impressive just after the concluded festivities. Ingolf at once set his

people to brew drink, slaughter animals, and prepare for the funeral

feast. Orn should begin his last journey with all suitable honour. But

this time the work was done without the noise which usually attended

preparations of that kind. In Ingolf's soul there remained a special

sense of bereavement. He had always shown his father reverence; now

he realized that he had also been very fond of him. Ingolf selected

with care a spot down by the fjord where a funeral barrow would look

well in the landscape. He caused a little natural hollow to be filled

with potter's clay; then had one of his smaller dragon-ships rolled on

logs thither and fixed on the bed of clay with its bow turned towards

the south. Orn's journey should be towards the south and the sun. When

the ship was settled in its place and shored up, Ingolf traced a wide

circle round it. Orn perhaps was the last of the race who should rest

in the soil of his fatherland, therefore his funeral barrow should be a

notable landmark.

Ingolf collected a large number of workmen from his own and Leif's

estate, and set them to work at erecting the barrow. It was to be done

quickly. For nothing is quite sure for a dead man till he rests in

earth under the sign of the Hammer.

Ingolf sent messengers round to invite all those in the district and

many distant friends and relatives to the funeral feast at a few days'

notice. He and Leif superintended the work at the barrow, and it went

forward rapidly.

The voracious earth was not to be allowed to devour Orn's ship,

therefore stones were fixed everywhere between the earth and the

woodwork. Outside it were piled gravel, earth, and turf.

Amidships, round the mast, which was hoisted as though for sailing

and so that the roof of the barrow might form an arch over it, was

the burial chamber, as broad as the ship and two fathoms in length,

timbered with thick oak-beams. It was to resist the pressure both of

the stones and the earth: there should Orn lie, warm and comfortable,

ready for his journey. All was arranged with a view to a journey by

land and by water.

In the stern of the ship were stored up all possible articles which

could be of use in cooking. There were iron cauldrons of various sizes,

with the iron claws belonging to them and swivels for hanging them

up on; a large barrel for the supply of the ship's drinking water,

together with other larger and small oaken barrels with hoops of tough

kinds of wood; different vessels with and without lids, together

with wooden dishes, some in the shape of fishes; pails with handles

of iron and bands of bronze or wood; scoops of iron and of wood;

knives; a stone hand-mill and a stick to turn it with; a frying-pan;

a three-legged kitchen-stool; axes; and many other articles. Some of

the wooden ones were splendidly carved, and on others many-coloured

designs were painted. In the stern was also the ship's anchor. The

rudder was, of course, fixed in its place.

Ingolf further furnished the ship with all that was necessary: cordage,

sails, oars, tent-cloths and poles, hooks, oar-forks, and other

articles for a voyage. A landing-plank was not forgotten.

In the fore-part of the ship he placed a carved and fully equipped

sledge, with the harness and bearskin bags belonging to it. Thither he

had also brought a painted and carved carriage, with a driving-seat

and harness. Orn's saddle was brought on board, together with bridle

and reins, and all things needed for a horse. Orn should never be in

difficulties regarding his land-journey.

Ingolf had many things brought into the burial chamber. He filled

several boxes with useful articles belonging to a chieftain's equipment

and placed them in it. A bed and bedding were brought in, and he gave

his father costly coverlets for the journey. He did not forget to

supply a comb, so that his father might arrange his hair and beard

when he presented himself before the Ases. He gave him also rings,

ornaments, and other valuables, so that all should at once know whom

they had before them. Moreover, he provided him with thunder-stones,

small Thor-hammers, and other sacred articles for his protection on the

journey, together with a money-box to defray the possible expenses.

Orn should certainly not want coin. Ingolf also had several barrels

of wine and meat brought to the burial chamber, together with costly

drinking-horns to drink from and to proffer. An ox and a swine and

many other animals had already been selected for slaughter. Orn should

suffer neither hunger nor thirst on his long journey.

When all these things had been arranged, and the barrow was already

partially erected so that there was only a wide passage to the burial

chamber, and all that remained was to pile stones and earth over the

ship, the day came which was fixed for the funeral feast and committal

to the barrow.

A swarm of people had collected to do the last honours to Orn. Ingolf

himself conducted the ceremonies, both at the temple and at the barrow.

He had inherited the office of priest of the district from his father,

and now himself discharged the priestly functions. With the sign of the

Hammer he consecrated his father for the last journey.

Stretched on a bier, clad in his splendid garments, Orn left his house

for the last time. A golden-winged helmet crowned his white hair. A

sword gleamed by his side. A shield painted in many colours covered

his breast. Equipped for a chieftain's journey, Orn was carried to his

burial chamber.

The serf who was selected and already consecrated to follow him, for

it was not fitting that Orn should journey quite alone, stood ready,

and only waited for the knife, with which he was to stab himself, to be

given him.

Then came Rodmar, who in these busy and restless days had been

forgotten by all, tottering on two sticks hither from the house, led by

two of his men and followed by another man carrying a chair. He was

not dressed as a chieftain. Looking untidy, as he had just got out of

bed, in clothes which he had not changed for a long time, and with his

grey locks floating freely in the wind, came Rodmar, staring stiffly

and blankly with his blind eyes.

Rodmar had had a bad time in his darkness and loneliness since Orn's

death. He had hoped that death would come and fetch him before the

barrow over Orn had been finished. He would so gladly share the barrow

with him, and follow him on his journey.

It was impossible to remain behind now that his only friend had

departed. The solitude became intense and oppressive around him, and

the pain of his darkness was doubled. At last he took the resolve to

follow his elder kinsman in death, as he had always followed him in

life.

Rodmar crawled over the gunwale on his crooked legs and groped his way

forward to the opening of the burial chamber. Then he turned and spoke

to the air. "Is there wine on board?" he asked in an impatient and

peremptory tone.

Leif sprang on board and led his father from barrel to barrel so that

he could feel them with his own hands. Rodmar shook the barrels to see

whether they were full, and sniffed them distrustfully. He chose one

of them, and demanded to have one hoop knocked off. This was done.

Afterwards he asked that the tool for opening it should remain with him

and be close to his hand. He was also allowed to retain the tool.

His seat was fixed in its place, and Rodmar sat down with a long sigh

of relief, as it were. On one side of him he had an open barrel of

red wine, on the other a horn filled to the brim, standing on a little

table, which had been quickly brought to the place.

Rodmar borrowed Leif's sword, and, baring his breast with fumbling

fingers, cut on it with his own hand the sign of the Hammer. Then

he said farewell to Ingolf and the others standing round, and in a

slightly morose and curt tone gave Leif his last blessing. Then the

opening to the burial chamber was closed up. Rodmar sat, as long as

they could see him, motionless on his chair. He had secured Orn's

society for ever. He was prepared for anything that might come. A man

should be able both to live and die with a light heart. He had drink

for the journey, and there is also wine in Valhalla.

Ingolf killed with his own hand an ox that was laid on an oak-plank by

the side of the kitchen utensils. Its mouth was held open with a wooden

gag and turned towards the south. He also slew with his own hand four

horses, two dogs, and a swine. The swine was laid by the side of the

box; the other animals were taken to the fore-part of the ship. The

serf who was to have accompanied Orn was now spared, as Orn had better

company.

Stones were heaped over the ship and all its contents, and then the

barrow was hastily filled up. This closed the funeral ceremonies. Orn

and Rodmar had departed to Odin.

XII

It soon became evident to Ingolf that on that spring day he had

not buried Orn only. He had also interred with his father his

home-feeling, his peace and confidence in this region of his childhood

and youth. Already, when on the first morning after the burial he

stepped out of the house and saw his father's mighty barrow lift its

dome in the landscape, it struck him all at once that the district had

assumed an alien aspect. The confidence in the contours and colours,

which has its root in the child's free look and strong, unconscious

sense of belonging to the spot where he has grown up, was gone. The

landscape had suddenly lost its light in his eyes. He felt thrust out

and lonely. It was not here that he should live his life.

Hitherto it had not been really clear to him what a profound change his

life would undergo because of Haasten's sentence. The fact that he was

now homeless had, as it were, not yet broken on him in its full extent.

Now he saw suddenly what Haasten's sentence really implied--a complete

alteration of his whole life. First, years perhaps must be spent in

search and insecurity. And then a battle for life and death with inner

and outer powers, in order to gain home-feeling and home-rights in a

foreign land.

Ingolf felt from his own experience that the race which has not its

own soil to grow in is doomed to misfortune and ruin. The possession

of land stamps the race. The man who could be sentenced to lose his

possessions was exiled from the earth--this was what Ingolf felt now.

Such a man must gain earth's favour anew by his honest will to live in

peace on earth's fruits.

Ingolf's hitherto unconscious instinct of opposition to force of all

kinds was now suddenly revealed to him. That which had now happened to

him was not undeserved, even if the blame for the outer cause of the

misfortune could not be imputed either to him or to Leif.

He had continued to ravage foreign lands and to pillage people with

whom he had not the least quarrel. From a kind of secret cowardice he

had suppressed the unwillingness he had felt in doing so, as unworthy

of a man and a Viking. But now he saw that law and right extend beyond

the borders of one's own country. They are valid wherever there is land

and sea. The man who aims at living by force and pillage, not only

sins against the law which he carries within him, but also against the

earth--the sacred earth, which by the grace of the gods is so luxuriant

and fruitful that every year it is ready to fill the peaceful barns. As

long as the Ases had still reigned undisputed there was peace in their

dwellings. The Ases had been driven to conflict and war by the dark

powers who were responsible for all disturbance. Thus all disturbance

and violence came from the evil power. Ingolf vowed to himself that

from that day he would never lift a weapon against any man except

to protect his own and his family's life and property. That resolve

somewhat soothed the disquiet and restlessness which had seized him

when he became conscious of his homelessness, and suddenly felt himself

exiled from the kindness of the earth. The bright Ases would still

grant his family a home and prosperity when they saw his honest purpose

and clean struggle. The earth would yet take him into favour again when

he no longer defiled it with blood and violence, would fulfill his most

sacred, yes, his only wish, that his family-tree might be leafy and

strong-stemmed. Since fate had granted him Hallveig as a wife, it could

scarcely intend to exclude him from the earth.

Ingolf thought much of the far and foreign land away in the west which

he was to travel to. Was it there that his family's cradle for the

future should be? Was it there that the pillars of his high-seat should

consecrate the earth for him?

He dared not believe it yet. Neither did he dare to go to the gods and

ask them. He himself had to seek his future home. He must win again

what had been lost here by his own fault. He wished to commit himself

to the power of the sky and sea without first seeking instruction from

the gods. He would match his own strength and will against storm and

sea as a pledge and sign. He would not beg; he would gain by fighting

the favour of fate and of the gods.

Now that his father was dead, he was himself the eldest and chief of

the family. The responsibility for the honour of the dead, and the

honour and prosperity of the unborn, rested principally on him. For now

he alone wore the family bracelet, and now the high-seat was also his.

Holmsten stopped and looked round him. He caught a warning and slightly