SHOWS HOW CHIEF FRIENDS MAY BECOME FOES, AND CROSS-PURPOSES MAY PRODUCE
CROSS CONSEQUENCES, INVOLVING WORRY AND CONFUSION.
When Christian had been properly cared for, Hilda sent Ada to the
hayfield, saying that she would follow her in a short time. Now it so
happened, by one of those curious coincidences which are generally
considered unaccountable, that as Ada ascended the track which led to
the high field above the foss, Glumm the Gruff descended towards the
same point from an opposite direction, so that a meeting between the
two, in the secluded dell, where the tracks joined, became inevitable.
Whether or not this meeting was anticipated we cannot tell. If it was,
the young man and maiden were inimitable actors by nature, for they
appeared to be wholly unconscious of aught save the peculiar formation
of the respective footpaths along which they slowly moved. There was,
indeed, a twinkle in Ada's eyes; but then Ada's eyes were noted
twinklers; besides, a refractory eyelash might account for such an
expression.
As for Glumm, he frowned on the path most unamiably while he sauntered
along with both hands thrust into the breast of his tunic, and the point
of his sword rasping harshly against rocks and bushes. Glumm was
peculiar in his weapons. He wore a double-handed and double-edged
sword, which was so long that he was obliged to sling it across his back
in order to keep it off the ground. The handle projected above his left
shoulder, and the blade, lying diagonally across his person, extended
beyond his right calf. The young man was remarkably expert in the use
of this immense weapon, and was not only a terror to his foes, but,
owing to the enormous sweep of its long blade, an object of some anxiety
to his friends when they chanced to be fighting alongside of him. He
wore a knife or dagger at his girdle on the right side, which was also
of unusual size; in all probability it would have been deemed a pretty
good sword by the Romans. There were only two men in the dale who could
wield Glumm's weapons. These were Erling and his father, Haldor. The
latter was as strong a man as Glumm, Erling was even stronger; though,
being an amiable man he could not be easily persuaded to prove his
strength upon his friends. Glumm wore his hair very short. It was
curly, and lay close to his head.
As he sauntered along he kicked the stones out of his way savagely, and
appeared to find relief to his feelings in so doing, as well as by
allowing his sword to rasp across the rocks and shrubs at his side. It
might have been observed, however, that Glumm only kicked the little
stones out of his way; he never kicked the big ones. It is interesting
to observe how trifling a matter will bring out a trait of human nature!
Men will sometimes relieve their angry feelings by storming violently
at those of their fellows who cannot hurt them, but, strangely enough,
they manage to obtain relief to these same feelings without storming,
when they chance to be in the company of stronger men than themselves,
thereby proving that they have powers of self-restraint which prudence--
not to say fear--can call into exercise! commend this moral reflection
particularly to the study of boys.
After Glumm had kicked all the _little_ stones out of his way, carefully
letting the big ones alone, he came suddenly face to face with Ada, who
saluted him with a look of startled surprise, a slight blush, and a
burst of hearty laughter.
"Why, Glumm," exclaimed the maiden, with an arch smile, "thou must have
risen off thy wrong side this morning. Methinks, now, were I a man, I
should have to look to my weapons, for that long blade of thine seems
inclined to fight with the rocks and shrubs of its own accord."
Poor Glumm blushed as red as if he had been a young girl, at being thus
unexpectedly caught giving vent to his ill-humour; he stammered
something about bad dreams and evil spirits, and then, breaking into a
good-humoured smile, said:
"Well, Ada, I know not what it is that ails me, but I do feel somewhat
cross-grained. Perchance a walk with thee may cure me, I see thou art
bound for the hayfield. But hast thou not heard the news? The Danish
vikings are off the coast, burning and murdering wherever they go. It
is rumoured, too, that their fleet is under that king of scoundrels,
Skarpedin the Red. Surely there is reason for my being angry."
"Nay, then, if thou wert a bold man thou wouldst find reason in this for
being glad," replied Ada. "Is not the chance of a fight the joy of a
true Norseman's heart? Surely a spell must have been laid on thee, if
thy brow darkens and thy heart grows heavy on hearing of a stout enemy.
It is not thus with Erling the Bold. His brow clears and his eye
sparkles when a foe worthy of--But what seest thou, Glumm? Has the Dane
appeared in the forest that thy brow becomes so suddenly clouded? I
pray thee do not run away and leave me unprotected."
"Doubtless if I did, Erling the Bold would come to thine aid," replied
the young man with some asperity.
"Nay, do not be angry with me, Glumm," said the girl, laughing, as they
reached the field where Haldor and his stout son were busily at work
assisting Ulf, who, with all his thralls and freemen, was engaged in
cutting and gathering in his hay.
"Hey! here come cloud and sunshine hand in hand," cried Erling, pausing
in his work, as Glumm and his pretty companion approached the scene of
labour.
"Get on with thy work, then, and make the hay while I am shining,"
retorted Ada, bestowing on the youth a bright smile, which he returned
cheerfully and with interest.
This was the wicked Ada's finishing touch. Glumm saw the exchange of
smiles, and a pang of fierce jealousy shot through his breast.
"The cloud sometimes darts out lightning," he muttered angrily, and,
turning on his heel, began to toss the hay with all his might in order
to relieve his feelings.
Just then Hilda entered the field, and Glumm, putting strong constraint
on himself, accosted her with extreme cheerfulness and respect--resolved
in his heart to show Ada that there were other girls in Horlingdal worth
courting besides herself. In this game he was by no means successful as
regarded Ada, who at once discerned his intention, but the shaft which
flew harmlessly past her fixed itself deep in the breast of another
victim. Glumm's unusual urbanity took the kind-hearted Hilda so much by
surprise, that she was interested, and encouraged him, in what she
conceived to be a tendency towards improvement of disposition, by
bestowing on him her sweetest smiles during the course of the day,
insomuch that Erling the Bold became much surprised, and at last
unaccountably cross.
Thus did these two men, who had for many years been fast and loving
friends, become desperately jealous, though each sought to conceal the
fact from the other. But the green-eyed monster having obtained a
lodgment in their bosoms, could not be easily cast out. Yet the good
sense of each enabled him to struggle with some success against the
passion, for Glumm, although gruff, was by no means a bad man.
The presence of those conflicting feelings did not, however, interrupt
or retard the work of the field. It was a truly busy scene. Masters,
unfreemen, and thralls, mistresses and maidens, were there, cutting and
turning and piling up the precious crop with might and main; for they
knew that the weather could not be trusted to, and the very lives of
their cattle depended on the successful ingathering of the hay.
As we have here mentioned the three different classes that existed in
Norway, it may be well to explain that the masters were peasants or
"bonders", but not by any means similar to peasants in other lands; on
the contrary, they were the udal-born proprietors of the soil--the
peasant-nobility, so to speak, the Udallers, or freeholders, without any
superior lord, and were entitled to attend and have a voice in the
"Things" or assemblies where the laws were enacted and public affairs
regulated. The next class was that of the "unfreemen". These were
freed slaves who had wrought out or purchased their freedom, but who,
although personally free, and at liberty to go where and serve whom they
pleased, were not free to attend the legislative assemblies. They were
unfree of the Things, and hence their apparently contradictory
designation. They, however, enjoyed the protection and civil rights
imparted by the laws, and to their class belonged all the cottars on the
land paying a rent in work on the farm of the bonder or udaller, also
the house-carles or freeborn indoormen, and the tradesmen, labourers,
fishermen, etcetera, about villages and farms. Thralls were slaves
taken in war, over whom the owners had absolute control. They might
sell them, kill them, or do with them as they pleased. Thralls were
permitted to purchase their freedom--and all the descendants of those
freed thralls, or unfreemen, were free.
The clothing of the unfreemen was finer than that of the thralls. The
legs and arms of nearly all were bare from the knees and elbows
downward, though a few had swathed their limbs in bands of rough woollen
cloth, while others used straw for this purpose. Nearly all the men
wore shoes of untanned leather, and caps of the same material, or of
rough homespun cloth, resembling in form the cap of modern fishermen.
The udallers, such as Haldor, Ulf, and their children, were clad in
finer garments, which were looped and buttoned with brooches and
pendants of gold and silver, the booty gathered on those viking cruises,
against which Hilda inveighed so earnestly.
The work went on vigorously until the sun began to sink behind the
mountain range that lay to the north-westward of the dale. By this time
the hay was all cut, and that portion which was sufficiently dry piled
up, so Ulf and Haldor left the work to be finished by the younger hands,
and stood together in the centre of the field chatting and looking on.
Little change had taken place in the personal appearance of Ulf of
Romsdal since the occasion of that memorable duel related in the first
chapter of our story. Some of his elasticity, but none of his strength,
was gone. There was perhaps a little more thought in his face, and a
few more wrinkles on his swarthy brow, but his hair was still black and
his figure straight as the blade of his good sword. His old enemy but
now fast friend, Haldor the Fierce, had changed still less. True, his
formerly smooth chin and cheeks were now thickly covered with luxuriant
fair hair, but his broad forehead was still unwrinkled, and his clear
blue eye was as bright as when, twenty years before, it gleamed in
youthful fire at Ulf. Many a battle had Haldor fought since then, at
home and abroad, and several scars on his countenance and shoulders gave
evidence that he had not come out of these altogether scathless; but war
had not soured him. His smile was as free, open, and honest, and his
laugh as loud and hearty, as in days of yore. Erling was the
counterpart of his father, only a trifle taller and stouter. At a short
distance they might have been taken for twin brothers, and those who did
not know them could scarcely have believed that they were father and
son.
Close to the spot where the two friends stood, a sturdy thrall was
engaged in piling up hay with an uncommon degree of energy. This man
had been taken prisoner on the coast of Ireland by Ulf, during one of
his sea-roving expeditions. He had a huge massive frame, with a
profusion of red hair on his head and face, and a peculiarly humorous
twinkle in his eye. His name was Kettle Flatnose. We have reason to
believe that the first part of this name had no connection with that
domestic utensil which is intimately associated with tea! It was a mere
accidental resemblance of sound no doubt. As to the latter part, that
is easily explained. In those days there were no surnames. In order to
distinguish men of the same name from each other, it was usual to
designate them by their complexions, or by some peculiarity of person or
trait of character. A blow from a club in early life had destroyed the
shape of Kettle's nose, and had disfigured an otherwise handsome and
manly countenance. Hence his name. He was about thirty-five years of
age, large-boned, broad-shouldered, and tall, but lean in flesh, and
rather ungainly in his motions. Few men cared to grapple with the huge
Irish slave, for he possessed a superabundant share of that fire and
love of fight which are said to characterise his countrymen even at the
present time. He was also gifted with a large share of their
characteristic good humour and joviality; which qualities endeared him
to many of his companions, especially to the boys of the neighbourhood.
In short, there was not a better fellow in the dale than Kettle
Flatnose.
"Thy labour is not light, Kettle," observed Ulf to the thrall as he
paused for a few moments in the midst of his work to wipe his heated
brow.
"Ill would it become me, master," replied the man, "to take my work easy
when my freedom is so nearly gained."
"Right, quite right," replied Ulf with an approving nod, as the thrall
set to work again with redoubled energy.
"That man," he added, turning to Haldor, "will work himself free in a
few weeks hence. He is one of my best thralls. I give my slaves, as
thou knowest, leave to work after hours to purchase their freedom, and
Kettle labours so hard that he is almost a free man already, though he
has been with me little more than two years and a half. I fear the
fellow will not remain with me after he is free, for he is an unsettled
spirit. He was a chief in his own land, it seems, and left a bride
behind him, I am told. If he goes, I lose a man equal to two, he is so
strong and willing.--Ho! Kettle," continued Ulf, turning to the man,
who had just finished the job on which he had been engaged, "toss me
yonder stone and let my friend Haldor see what thou art made of."
Kettle obeyed with alacrity. He seized a round stone as large as his
own head, and, with an unwieldy action of his great frame, cast it
violently through the air about a dozen yards in advance of him.
"Well cast, well cast!" cried Haldor, while a murmur of applause rose
from the throng of labourers who had been instantly attracted to the
spot. "Come, I will try my own hand against thee."
Haldor advanced, and, lifting the stone, balanced it for a few moments
in his right hand, then, with a graceful motion and an apparently slight
effort, hurled it forward. It fell a foot beyond Kettle's mark.
Seeing this the thrall leaped forward, seized the stone, ran back to the
line, bent his body almost to the ground, and, exerting himself to the
utmost, threw it into the same hollow from which he had lifted it.
"Equal!" cried Ulf. "Come, Haldor, try again."
"Nay, I will not try until he beats me," replied Haldor with a
good-natured laugh. "But do thou take a cast, Ulf. Thine arm is
powerful, as I can tell from experience."
"Not so," replied Ulf. "It becomes men who are past their prime to
reserve their strength for the sword and battle-axe. Try it once more,
Kettle. Mayhap thou wilt pass the mark next time."
Kettle tried again and again, but without gaining a hair's-breadth on
Haldor's throw. The stalwart thrall had indeed put forth greater force
in his efforts than Haldor, but he did not possess his skill.
"Will no young man make trial of his strength and skill?" said Haldor,
looking round upon the eager faces of the crowd.
"Glumm is no doubt anxious to try his hand," said Erling, who stood
close to the line, with his arms resting on the head of his long-hafted
battle-axe. "The shining of the Sunbeam will doubtless warm thy heart
and nerve thine arm."
Erling muttered the latter part of his speech in a somewhat bitter tone,
alluding to Hilda's smiles; but the jealous and sulky Glumm could
appreciate no sunbeams save those that flashed from Ada's dark eyes. He
understood the remark as a triumphant and ironical taunt, and, leaping
fiercely into the ring formed by the spectators, exclaimed:
"I will cast the stone, but I must have a better man than thou, Kettle,
to strive with. If Erling the Bold will throw--"
"I will not balk thee," interrupted the other quickly, as he laid down
his axe and stepped up to the line.
Glumm now made a cast. Everyone knew well enough that he was one of the
best throwers of the stone in all the dale, and confidently anticipated
an easy victory over the thrall. But the unusual tumult of conflicting
feelings in the young man's breast rendered him at the time incapable of
exerting his powers to the utmost in a feat, to excel in which requires
the union of skill with strength. At his first throw the stone fell
short about an inch!
At this Ada's face became grave, and her heart began to flutter with
anxiety; for although willing enough to torment her lover a little
herself, she could not brook the idea of his failing in a feat of
strength before his comrades.
Furious with disappointment and jealousy, and attributing Ada's
expression to anxiety lest he should succeed, Glumm cast again with
passionate energy, and sent the stone just an inch beyond the thrall's
mark. There was a dispute on the point, however, which did not tend to
soothe the youth's feelings, but it was ultimately decided in his
favour.
Erling now stood forth; and as he raised his tall form to its full
height, and elevated the stone above his head, he seemed (especially to
Hilda) the _beau-ideal_ of manly strength and beauty.
He was grieved, however, at Glumm's failure, for he knew him to be
capable of doing better than he had done. He remembered their old
friendship too, and pity for his friend's loss of credit caused the
recently implanted jealousy for a moment to abate. He resolved,
therefore, to exert himself just sufficiently to maintain his credit.
But, unhappily for the successful issue of this effort of self-denial,
Erling happened to cast his eye towards the spot where Hilda stood. The
tender-hearted maiden chanced at that moment to be regarding Glumm with
a look of genuine pity. Of course Erling misconstrued the look! Next
moment the huge stone went singing through the air, and fell with a
crash full two yards beyond Glumm's mark. Happening to alight on a
piece of rock, it sprang onward, passed over the edge of the hill or
brae on the summit of which the field lay, and gathering additional
impetus in its descent, went bounding down the slope, tearing through
everything in its way, until it found rest at last on the sea beach
below.
A perfect storm of laughter and applause greeted this unexpected feat,
but high above the din rose the voice of Glumm, who, now in a towering
passion, seized his double-handed sword, and shouting--
"Guard thee, Erling!" made a furious blow at his conqueror's head.
Erling had fortunately picked up his axe after throwing the stone. He
immediately whirled the heavy head so violently against the descending
sword that the blade broke off close to the hilt, and Glumm stood before
him, disarmed and helpless, gazing in speechless astonishment at the
hilt which remained in his hands.
"My good sword!" he exclaimed, in a tone of deep despondency.
At this Erling burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "My bad sword, thou
must mean," said he. "How often have I told thee, Glumm, that there was
a flaw in the metal! I have advised thee more than once to prove the
blade, and now that thou hast consented to do so, behold the result!
But be not so cast down, man; I have forged another blade specially for
thyself, friend Glumm, but did not think to give it thee so soon."
Glumm stood abashed, and had not a word to reply. Fortunately his
feelings were relieved by the attention of the whole party being
attracted at that moment to the figure of a man on the opposite side of
the valley, who ran towards them at full speed, leaping over almost
every obstacle that presented itself in his course. In a few minutes he
rushed, panting, into the midst of the throng, and presented a baton or
short piece of wood to Ulf, at the same time exclaiming: "Haste! King
Harald holds a Thing at the Springs. Speed on the token."
The import of this message and signal were well understood by the men of
Horlingdal. When an assembly or Thing was to be convened for discussing
civil matters a wooden truncheon was sent round from place to place by
fleet messengers, each of whom ran a certain distance, and then
delivered over his "message-token" to another runner, who carried it
forward to a third, and so on. In this manner the whole country could
be roused and its chief men assembled in a comparatively short time.
When, however, the Thing was to be assembled for the discussion of
affairs pertaining to war, an arrow split in four parts was the
message-token. When the split arrow passed through the land men were
expected to assemble armed to the teeth, but when the baton went round
it was intended that they should meet without the full panoply of war.
As soon as the token was presented, Ulf looked about for a fleet man to
carry forward the message. Several of the youths at once stepped
forward offering their services. Foremost among them was a stout,
deep-chested active boy of about twelve years of age, with long flaxen
curls, a round sunburnt face, a bold yet not forward look, a merry
smile, and a pair of laughing blue eyes. This was Erling's little
brother Alric--a lad whose bosom was kept in a perpetual state of stormy
agitation by the conflict carried on therein between a powerful tendency
to fun and mischief, and a strong sense of the obedience due to parents.
"I will go," said the boy eagerly, holding out his hand for the token.
"Thou, my son?" said Haldor, regarding him with a look of ill-suppressed
pride. "Go to thy mother's bower, boy. What if a fox, or mayhap even a
wolf, met thee on the fell?"
"Have I not my good bow of elm?" replied Alric, touching the weapon,
which, with a quiver full of arrows, was slung across his back.
"Tush! boy; go pop at the squirrels till thou be grown big enough to
warrant thy boasting."
"Father," said Alric with a look of glee, "I'm sure I did not boast. I
did but point to my poor weapons. Besides, I have good legs. If I
cannot fight, methinks I can run."
"Out upon thee--"
"Nay, Haldor," said Ulf, interrupting the discussion, "thou art too hard
on the lad. Can he run well?"
"I'll answer for that," said Erling, laying his large hand on his
brother's flaxen head. "I doubt if there is a fleeter foot in all the
dale."
"Away then," cried Ulf, handing the token to Alric, "and see that ye
deserve all this praise. And now, sirs, let us fare to the hall to sup
and prepare for our journey to the Springs."
The crowd at once broke up and hurried away to Ulfstede in separate
groups, discussing eagerly as they went, and stepping out like men who
had some pressing business on hand. Alric had already darted away like
a hunted deer.
Erling turned hastily aside and went away alone. As soon as he reached
a spot where the rugged nature of the ground concealed him from his late
companions, he started up the valley at his utmost speed, directing his
course so as to enable him to overshoot and intercept his brother. He
passed a gorge ahead of the boy; and then, turning suddenly to the left,
bore down upon him. So well did he calculate the distance, that on
turning round the edge of a jutting cliff he met him face to face, and
the two ran somewhat violently into each other's arms.
On being relieved from this involuntary embrace, Alric stepped back and
opened his eyes wide with surprise, while Erling roared with laughter.
"Ye are merry, my brother," said Alric, relaxing into a grin, "but I
have seen thee often thus, and may not stop to observe thee now, seeing
that it is nothing new."
"Give me an arrow, thou rogue! There," said Erling, splitting the shaft
into four parts, handing it back to the boy, and taking the baton from
him. "Get thee gone, and use thy legs well. We must not do the King
the dishonour to appear before him without our weapons in these
unsettled times. Let the token be sent out north, south, east, and
west; and, harkee, lad, say nothing to anyone about the object of the
assembly."
Alric's countenance became grave, then it again relaxed into a broad
grin. Giving his brother an emphatic wink with one of his large blue
eyes, he darted past him, and was soon far up the glen, running with the
speed of a deer and waving the war-token over his head.