Odin was drawn to his place on the right hand of Thor. Atle Jarl took the sacrificial bracelet off his arm and laid it on the mound by the side of the bowl. This concluded the first part of the sacrificial feast—the slaughter night. The people went to their tents and crept under their skins, to get a little sleep. The early spring day was already dawning in the east.
XII
Ingolf and Leif went silently towards the tent. Ingolf was pleasantly fatigued, and felt cheerful. He enjoyed the mental relaxation and dreamy sleepiness which follows when an inner excitement has found its natural relief. He went from the ceremony confirmed in his faith with strengthened will. He felt himself in covenant relation with his ferocious gods.
With Leif the case was opposite. He had been sickened by the sight and smell of the blood of the sacrificed animals. All the rest, and especially Ingolf's behaviour, had had a repelling effect uponhimwho did not believe in the gods, nay, who had a profound contempt for these ugly, bedizened images of wood. Ingolf's thorough absorption in the ceremonies had made him sick at heart. Here was something he did not understand. HowcouldIngolf quietly watch helpless men being ill-treated and murdered in honour of the gods? Howcouldhe worship gods whom he believed he could appease by hanging serfs and criminals in their honour? Leif did not understand it. He felt himself suddenly alone, and an eager longing for Helga took possession of him. There was something about Ingolf which was beyond his comprehension. In relation to the gods there would always be something to divide them. Hitherto this had possessed such a slight significance for Leif that he had not given the matter a thought. Now it grew suddenly, assumed a shape, and was not to be got away from. Ingolf must certainly not become aware how great a difference there was between them in this respect. For if he did, how could he think of entering into brotherhood with him?
Leif's emotion seethed and fermented. With every step his inward excitement rose higher. To speak out to Ingolf would never do; if once he began to speak, wild and uncontrolled words would stream from his tongue. And he had vowed to himself never to let his fiery temperament discharge itself in evil words over Ingolf.
But, on the other hand, the excitement in his mind gradually became uncontrollable. And now they were so near the tents, that only a few steps more would rob him of the opportunity of relieving himself. He stopped, perplexed, without knowing what he should say or do.
"Ingolf!" he broke out suddenly, as if in bewilderment; his voice was hoarse and unrecognizable. Ingolf stopped, surprised, and turned towards him. In an instant they were confronting each other, Ingolf with an astonished, questioning expression in his eyes and face, Leif quivering in every limb with an excitement which bid fair to derange his mind. He rushed at his cousin, flung his arms round him tightly, and hissed from between his clenched teeth: "Look out!"
Ingolf did not understand what he was about, and had no time to consider. He needed all his presence of mind to keep on his legs, for Leif attacked him with all his might, and his strength seemed to increase with his exertions. Ingolf was not long in discovering that this was serious; he had to defend himself or fall. Leif hissed and groaned and bellowed like a maniac. Ingolf thought it was best to make an end of it, and passed gradually over to the offensive. But it took him time, and he needed to exert all his strength to overcome Leif. At last he succeeded. He took advantage of a slip on Leif's part, slowly deprived him of his foothold—then came the decisive moment—Leif overbalanced and fell.
Ingolf remained lying on the top of him. He had a good grip, and held him fast. Leif's face was purple and swollen, and he foamed at the mouth. His eyeswere bloodshot, and were so furious that Ingolf suddenly felt pity for him.
"Cousin, be reasonable now," he begged persuasively. But to be overcome in such a purely physical way had been too much for Leif. He struggled hopelessly to get one arm loose, and when he did not succeed he hissed with suppressed rage: "I could kill you!" Ingolf let him go at once and sprang up. But Leif did not do the same, as he had expected. He had discharged his emotions now and had given up. He remained lying with his eyes closed, while the shame scorched and burnt in his soul.
Ingolf stood for a little while looking at him. He felt the wrath lurking in ambush within himself, and bravely fought with it. "What have I done?" he asked at last quietly.
Leif did not answer, but remained lying there, quiet and motionless, with closed eyes. Within himself he was silently and hopelessly wondering how he should set about opening his eyes and rising. Ingolf stood looking at him. He began gradually to understand him, and to enter into his feelings. Leif had madly set himself against the gods. But what was the use of so attacking him, he would like to know? Well, Leif had his peculiarities in everything. Now he lay there and was ashamed, and could not bring himself to open his eyes. The best thing was to give him a little time to collect himself. Ingolf remained standing awhile and waited. "Come now, Leif!" he urged, in a friendly tone, and Leif rose. Slowly he collected himself and got on his legs. Ingolf stood and looked at him with curiosity. His features were relaxed, and his eyes were dull and troubled.
"What was the matter with you?" asked Ingolf earnestly, and could not suppress a little laugh.
Leif stood a short while without answering, as though searching his memory for something he had forgotten. "You needn't trouble yourself about it," he answered in a weary and rather shy tone, but not without a certain defiance. "It was not you I hated, but your gods."
"So it was not very strange you could not win, cousin," answered Ingolf cheerfully. "You are still too slight of build to fight with the gods."
"I shall not go with you to a feast any more," answered Leif, unaffected by Ingolf's cheerfulness. "This once I may be allowed to say it, and I beg you not to forget it. Your gods and your worship of them are an abomination to me, and will always be so. Even if it should lose me my brother, I must say it."
There was a smothered warmth in Leif's words which made Ingolf serious.
"It is just with you, as you are, that I wish to enter into brotherhood, Leif," he answered quietly. "Your relation to the gods is a matter between you and them. What you think of my worship of them is your own affair. But I am anxious that you should understand that I belong with all my soul and will to the gods. They were my fathers' gods; if I were false to them, I should be false to my fathers. Rather would I this very moment sacrifice myself to Odin than that that should happen."
"But then it is a sacrifice on your part," answered Leif quietly, "when you enter into brotherhood with me who despise the gods, and so have been false to my fathers."
Ingolf was silent for a while. "It is another matter with you than with me," he answered. "I cannot explain it, but I feel that it is quite another matter with you. I should become weaker by not believing in the gods; you would become so by believing in them. We are so different, Leif. And I wish to be your brother as you are."
"I will do my best that you may never regret that," answered Leif quietly.
They went to their tents. It was already nearly daylight. In the east the sky was faintly red; there was only a short time to the sunrise. Ingolf and Leif did not talk any more. They crept silently into their sleeping-bags. But neither of them could close an eye. They remained lying quiet till nearly midday. When the sun was at its zenith that day, their brotherhood was to be sealed.
Leif was the first who rose. When he had met Ingolf's open eyes, he said in a low, cheerful tone: "Let us run to the stream."
Ingolf sprang up. "Yes, we will." They ran to a place outside the encampment, where they were in the shelter of a cliff, and where they had been accustomed to wash themselves when, as small boys, they visited their friends at Gaulum. Ingolf dipped his head in the water, rubbed hard with both hands, and snorted cheerfully. But Leif flung away every stitch of clothingand lay down in the running water. When Ingolf saw it, he immediately followed his example. And so they lay side by side in the stream, and let the cold running water stream over their bodies, as when they were little boys.
Leif looked at the sun. "We shall have to hurry." They sat for a little while, squeezed the water out of their hair, and let the sun and the wind dry their skins. But the water remained in drops on their skins and would not be dried. Then they took their shirts and rubbed each other, and then dressed in a trice. "Let us go slowly back," said Leif, when they had their clothes on, and Ingolf had to look closer at him, for such a proposal was very unlike him. Leif answered his questioning look. "Otherwise we shall be so breathless, and we are getting too big now to run like children."
When they came up from the little valley in which the stream ran, they saw that the people were already gathered, and hastened their steps. Leif looked up hastily at the sun. "It is not yet quite midday," he said, relieved, but went on.
They arrived at the place at the same time as Atle Jarl, who as high priest was to conduct the proceedings. Atle Jarl, generally a mild and amiable man, wore his severest expression that day. He had the sacrificial bracelet on his arm and a spear in his hand. A serf followed him bearing two turf-cutters and two bright, sharp-pointed knives. The people had gathered round a circular space, marked out with wooden pegs. They readily made way for the two cousins and Atle Jarl.When they reached the place marked out, Atle Jarl curtly bade the two future brothers take off their shoes and stockings and step into the ring. While they were doing so, he himself stepped into the ring, and with his spear marked off a semicircle within it. Then Ingolf and Leif each received his turf-cutter with orders to begin, each on his own side of the semicircle, and cut a turf loose, taking care, however, that both its ends remained firm. The turf that was to be cut loose was to remain a living part of the ground. Ingolf was set to cut on the outside of the semicircle, Leif on the inside. They each dropped on one knee, stuck their turf-cutters into the ground, and began to cut. Their task was to cut a solid piece of turf which would hold fast when it was raised. Ingolf cut with an even, straight stroke; he was quiet and undisturbed by the people standing and looking at him. Leif, on the other hand, was nervous. He began cutting with all his might; his edge became bent and uneven, and sweat was pouring from him before he had got half through. When the spectators saw their different ways of working, they smiled and winked at each other.
Orn and Rodmar stood just outside the ring. Orn did not look happy, but he concealed his displeasure under a mask of indifference. Rodmar stood and looked angrily at Leif. He could hardly restrain himself from shouting to him and correcting him. He saw, however, clearly that it would only make bad worse, and controlled himself. But he leant towards Orn and whispered as though making an excuse. "Ingolf will need all his quiet and strength before he can get Leif tamed."
"He cannot be tamed," answered Orn in a low tone, but with emphasis in his voice. "A horse with the staggers cannot be broken in; it is a useless animal, and brings ill-luck."
"He is my son," answered Rodmar, who always found fault with Leif but could not bear others doing so. "You judge him too severely."
"He is your son and my kinsman," Orn whispered back sombrely, "otherwise this ratification of brotherhood would not have taken place—at least as long as I had a breath left in my body."
Ingolf and Leif had now cut loose the piece of turf, and went together to lift it. They raised it carefully till it stood straight up and formed an arch. Then Atle Jarl stepped in and placed his spear in the middle of the arch to hold the turf up. He himself stood and supported the spear while Ingolf and Leif cut loose an oblong turf under the arch. Their blood was not to run on the greensward, but was to mingle on the bare earth. When they had finished they gave up their turf-cutters, and at Atle Jarl's command stepped in under the turf arch, each on his own side of the spear-shaft. Atle Jarl now dictated the oath, and they vowed mutual brotherhood, each with his right hand on the sacred bracelet. When the oath had been taken, serfs came with knives. Atle Jarl received the knives and handed them to the newly-sworn brothers, with the command to confirm the brotherhood they had just inaugurated by letting their blood flow jointly on the sacred earth. Atle Jarl showed them briefly where they should pierce their calves with the knives.
Ingolf and Leif both did so at the same moment. Ingolf thrust his knife-point well in and cut a deep gash. Leif put his knife right through so that the point projected a couple of inches on the other side of his calf. He had difficulty in drawing it out again. The blood ran down in red streams. The spectators felt a strange shuddering thrill at seeing how it oozed out from under the naked soles of their feet. Leif watched the course of his blood attentively as it approached Ingolf's on the brown scar of earth between them. As it seemed to him to go too slowly, he stooped down, directed the streams of blood with the point of his knife, and stirred the blood and earth round between him and Ingolf. A laugh then rang out in the air from hundreds of throats. Even Orn smiled, though against his will, and Atle Jarl's eyes assumed a milder expression.
Leif looked hastily up and straightened himself with a jerk. He looked round, a little astonished, and his eyes rested on Ingolf. A very pleasant smile lay on Ingolf's face, and there was a moist glimmer in his eyes.
Atle Jarl now proclaimed that Ingolf Arnarson and Leif Rodmarsson had entered into legal brotherhood, and named the witnesses. With that the solemn ceremony was at an end. The grass-turfs were carefully laid down again in order that they might grow firm and be incorporated with the earth's life.
Ingolf and Leif were now joined together by the strongest bonds that exist—the blood-tie between brothers, the most sacred and inviolable of all blood and family ties. The earth by which they had beenformed in different mothers' wombs had now drunk their blood mingled, and had at the same time given them new birth, since they had passed together under the turf arch, a part of earth's living frame. The earth knew now, and had recognized their covenant—a covenant no power could break. The sons of Atle were the first who approached to tender their good wishes on the occasion.
Haasten pressed Ingolf's hand and whispered confidentially: "You have in Leif made a brother who at any time and without hesitation will give his blood for you to the last drop. Keep always a watchful eye on him, for his mind is as easily moved as a willow, but it has also the willow's toughness."
Holmsten handed over to Leif a broad-bladed, long-shafted battle-ax with a handle inlaid with gold, a splendid weapon, which made Leif colour with joy. "Here is an ax for you, friend Leif," he said cheerfully. "Swing it bravely, but take care that you do not absent-mindedly come to cleave your friends' heads with it!"
Leif was moved to tears. He kissed Holmsten for the ax. Leif and Holmsten's friendship lasted for whole days, to the great joy and relief of Ingolf and Haasten. They had never before been able to keep the peace for even a few hours at a time. Ingolf began to believe that the costly gifts which had been exchanged between Holmsten and Leif must have some special significance. He felt unusually cheerful in spirits that day. Leif also felt a peace and sense of security which was strange to him. It was as though the responsibility which he hadassumed in entering into brotherhood evoked his manhood. He seemed to have suddenly grown adult. His mind had found an equilibrium, which acted beneficially, and was plainly traceable in his bearing.
Evening came, and the second night of the sacrificial feast was about to commence. As people began to go to the temple, Leif said to Ingolf: "I shall not go. I shall remain at home in the tent."
"Very well, I won't go either," said Ingolf, and tried to appear as though it were a matter of indifference to him.
But Leif would not hear of that. "Those who know me will not be surprised that I remain away," he said. "It is another matter with you. If you won't go alone, you will oblige me to go with you, and I don't much like going there."
At last Ingolf went alone. When he entered the temple the people were already assembled with great jubilation and much noise. On the floor there was burning a fire from one end of the temple to the other outside the partition-wall. This fire, named Langildene ("the long fires"), could be crossed at various points, though only by going through the lambent flames. Over it hung great cauldrons, whence the fumes of the meat of the sacrifices filled the air with vapour and smoke tempting to hungry stomachs.
Tables and benches were arranged on both sides of the fire. It was some time before each man had his horn. Then Atle Jarl rose, consecrated the drinking, and proposed the toast in honour of Odin. It was a toast for Victory and Might, and everyone had to empty hishorn to the bottom. Some made the sign of the hammer over the horn of mead. They were those who trusted in their own power and might. They consecrated their drinking to Thor. Now other serfs entered, bearing great dishes. They fished the meat out of the cauldrons with hooks, filled the dishes, and bore them round. Then began a festive battle for the best morsels, with shouting and laughter which shook the temple.
Women now entered, lifted the gods down from their platforms, took off their dresses, and began to rub them with the fat of the sacrificial animals. This was a very solemn ceremony.
When the guests had appeased their first hunger, full horns stood again before them. Atle Jarl blessed the drinking, and they all emptied their horns in honour of Thor. Then they ate again, but now quietly and deliberately. The dishes were emptied and filled anew. There was no scarcity of food or of beer.
They drank horns to Njord and to Frey for peace and fertility. They drank a horn to Brage, with which they pledged solemn vows. Last of all, Atle Jarl rose, always steady on his legs and firm in his voice (he had tasted mead before), blessed the drinking, and proposed a toast in memory of their deceased kinsmen. That toast used not to be very widely observed—by that time many lay under the table. Others had gone outside, and the rows of the feasters grew thinner.
When Ingolf had gone to the temple, Leif's newly found mental equilibrium suddenly forsook him. He was overcome by a feeling of disquiet, strong and not to be shaken off—a fit of impatience which rankled in hisbreast, and made him perspire and feel unwell. Something must be done, he knew not what, until it suddenly became clear to him that he could not do without Helga any longer. He ran home to the house and got hold of a serf, whom he sent with a message to Ingolf. Then he took a bridle in his hands and a saddle over his shoulders and went off to find his horse. There was a strange feverishness in all his proceedings, but he was cheerful and light of heart, as was always the case when he had overcome uncertainty and betaken himself to action. He found his horse, caught and saddled it, and went straight homewards at full gallop. He dared not think at all, for it was plain to him that it would be too long before he could see Helga, and the thought made his heart sick. A feeling of longing was on him, a longing of the strong kind, which grows in force if one gives way to it. His rapid riding gave him relief, and released him from thinking. He entered into a strange relation with the paths he rode by, and every stone and bush which he passed on the way. A pasture which he went by reminded him of the horse, and he dismounted, took off the saddle and bridle, and lay down. The horse rolled on its back awhile, then rose and began grazing eagerly. This haste seemed to quiet Leif's longing, and he lay comfortably there. He allowed the horse to still its sharpest pangs of hunger, but soon his patience was over, exhausted and vanished. He saddled the horse again and went off at full gallop. Daylight came, and he was forced to stop and let the horse breathe and graze a little. This time Leif could not lie still, while it was grazing. He sat a little, walkeda little, and was restless. Long before the proper time he saddled the horse again, but before mounting this time he patted its neck and head, scratched it behind the ear, and spoke kindly to it: "If you hold out, I will remember you as long as we both live!"
So it carried him forward again, over hill and dale, over smooth, grassy plains and stony tracts, over clear streams and roaring rivers. The horse's clattering hoofs awoke in the air alternately falling and rising echoes. So the incredible was accomplished, and the length of the way slowly overcome. One morning at sunrise Leif arrived home. Helga stood outside the house as though she had expected him, and the world seemed new.
"It is you, Leif," said Helga, and did not conceal her gladness. Leif had already sprung from his horse. He ran to her and flung his arms around her. "Helga," he said, and kissed her. "Ihadto come home all at once." Helga laughed.
"I dreamt of you last night," she said, and kissed him. "Thatwas what I dreamt."
"What?" asked Leif.
"That I kissed you."
And she kissed him again. That was a happy day.
BOOK II
I
Yearspassed and nothing happened. There was much talk of disturbance and disquiet in the north of the country. The young King Harald and his uncle, Guttorm, were continually engaged in warfare. Various raisers of disturbance had already been suppressed, but new ones were continually starting up. The latest rumour current was, that the young King purposed, as soon as he had given peace to his Kingdom, to extend it. It did not look as if he had peaceful intentions. Dalsfjord as yet was ravaged only by rumours. No events themselves, only the faint thunders they aroused, came near there.
Orn, however, was always of opinion that it was safest for Rodmar to remain; especially as Leif had now undertaken the management of the property, and Rodmar might as well remain in one place as another.
Much beer was brewed in Orn's house. Perhaps it was not without some connection with this that Orn and Rodmar's talk took all the more a prophetic tinge. Obscure and rather disconnected wisdom flowed liberally from their lips. Leif called this wise talk nonsense, and was not ashamed to laugh openly in his father's face when he was more wise and obscure than ever. Ingolf, on the other hand, although with some difficulty, continued to invest Orn with a halo of dignity, and showedhim all possible filial reverence. He always consulted him in important questions, although certainly only for form's sake. And he never brought forward a matter without having first procured permission to speak. This pleased Orn in a high degree, although he sometimes felt somewhat embarrassed by it, and almost always showed peevishness to his son.
Orn was by no means easy to deal with. For example, Ingolf, at the beginning of the spring when he completed his nineteen winters, went to him to hear his opinion regarding the sowing plans he had made for the summer, and also about a necessary enlargement of the salt-kilns. Orn looked up at him with a scornful and malicious look in his drink-swollen eyes, heard fully all he had to say, and at last broke out harshly on him.
"You are only a peasant! A good-for-nothing you are, although you are tall and heavy enough! You wear the family bracelet! What honour have I from you? There is no energy in you. Do you think one finds honour in the fields? Do you think one can plough it out of the ground? Food you find, but never any honour. Do you think a man keeps fresh by burning salt all his life? Keep away from me with your salt-burning and your sowing-plans. Would any one believe you were a free man's son, and soon full grown? Speak with the serfs about it. No—Harald, Halvdan the Black's son—there is a fellow with some stuff in him! You'll feel his knuckles one day—wait and see! He'll mark you all with the brand of slavery—every man of you. Each and all of you will have to pay tribute to him, if you do not want to be shorterby a head or to have your necks stretched! It is said that he intends to subdue all Norway and to become sole King. How old are you now? Nineteen winters? He is four years younger! You are no King—no! You are right in that. But your forefathers were chiefs, and ruled themselves, and ruled others as the King's peers. Go off to your fields and your salt-burning—I won't listen to you any more. I won'tseeyou! Go! Ha! Wait a little. Go first to the smith, and have your fathers' weapons smelted down into meat-axes! Have you not increased your stock? Are you not in want of meat-axes! No, it was something different in my youth. If I had been in my prime now, the good Harald would have found at least one neck he could not break. Unless, indeed, I had deemed it wisest to assist him. That also might be a way to honour. But you have only thoughts for your fields and your salt-burning. Go!"
Thus Orn spoke, and was very irritable. Ingolf listened to him patiently without moving a muscle. And when he received the command to go he retired with a respectful salute. He honoured the family in his father, and did not wear the family bracelet in vain on his young arm. Ingolf looked after his property; Leif neglected his. For the first two years Leif had managed remarkably well alone. But when it no longer amused him to rule and give orders to the house-servants, he began to become somewhat careless. It was to his advantage that his people were reliable and fond of him—remarkably so, in fact. He might scold them thoroughly, using the whole of his copious vocabulary until his voice failed him. He might beat them and abuse them, and bid them ten thousand times to go the straight way north or down to hell. They admired his readiness of speech and energetic irritability. It was always enlivening to see him in a rage. And it was characteristic of him that his wrath was forgotten as soon as it had blazed up. It flashed up like a fire of pine-needles and burnt out at once. Besides, he was not small-minded, and let every one manage his own affairs, so long as he minded his work. He was a kind and cheerful master to serve under. Many plants grew in his track, but never the plant of dullness.
Ingolf had another way with his people. He immediately became a father and providence for them. He was considerate towards the old, and let them have an easy time. They were never weary of blessing him. He visited them often, and his visit was always like a gift. He showed an equable temper with his people, demanded a certain amount of work from them, and expressed in encouraging words his satisfaction with work well done. On the other hand, no one had ever heard a threat from his mouth. He had his own way of showing displeasure by a certain indifferent silence which did not fail of its effect. No one liked to feel himself the object of that quiet taciturnity. His peaceful manner diffused a peculiar sense of security around him. He was careful in his choice when he engaged new people, which rarely happened. Those whom he had once engaged remained with him.
Leif could not alter his nature; he was just Leif,once and for all. When he had managed his property with diligence and watchfulness for three years it amused him no longer. He began to slacken, and let things go at haphazard. And since they did not seem to go altogether badly that way, he gradually preferred not to look after them at all. So Ingolf found him going idle for whole months at a time. Ingolf wondered at him. How could he choose to go on and undertake nothing? No, that was going too far. Ingolf secretly kept an eye on Leif's property, and saw that it was managed in some way without him, although not thoroughly. So there was all the less reason for him to interfere in Leif's way of living. There resulted a good deal of restraint between the two sworn brothers which was unavoidable. Ingolf tried his best not to let himself be irritated by Leif's idle ways. He exerted himself to meet him as unconstrainedly as before. But his openness was not natural as it used to be, and seemed forced. Leif noticed it without thinking about it, and the feeling of restraint between them continued.
Only seldom did Leif follow Ingolf to the fields or to other business. Their unconscious inner tension robbed their intercourse of all outer comfort or heartiness. The sense of brotherhood and family feeling between them decreased greatly, and threatened to vanish.
Ingolf be-took himself to work as a defence. He wrapped himself in business as in a coat of mail, and work shielded him to a certain extent. But the unavoidable vacant hours were like rents in his armour. And the weapons Ingolf had to fight against immediately found every exposed place.
Leif was not the man to notice that something had happened when nothing had really done so. He only felt boredom and emptiness, and the difficulty there is in making time pass when like a refractory horse it begins rearing on its hind-legs. Either he sat alone with Helga and let the hours fly, or he simply lay and lazed somewhere, staring into space and wondering what purpose there can be in a useless day. His mind became every day more unbalanced, and his temper was like a sportive squirrel. Sometimes his restlessness and impatience impelled him to tease and vex those who surrounded him. Not even Helga escaped; on the contrary, just because she was the most helpless before him, it was she who suffered most. Not rarely his words made her cry. Afterwards he sat silent and helpless, unable to repair what he had done, and feeling intolerable pain.
Leif's only excuse was that he was Leif and had lost his balance. The hopeless melancholy of youth was upon him.
Years passed and nothing happened. Hitherto each year had had one event. They visited Gaulum, or Atle's sons visited them. One winter Leif and Ingolf were invited to the feast at Gaulum; the next winter they were the hosts. Hitherto in Leif's mind there had been a halo about these feasts; he had awaited them with eagerness and taken part in them with a happy fervour of abandonment. Now he hardly cared to think of them any more, and had quite ceased to take pleasure in them.
For there had gradually risen in Leif's mind, although he carefully concealed it, a strong ill-will against Atle's sons, especially Holmsten. Holmsten had always been a thorn in his side. Holmsten's voice and vocabulary, his smile, his way of being silent, and his whole character had an irritating effect on Leif. At times, when he was not especially sensitive, he could, as it were, lock such feelings out. But there were other times when he stood and actually shivered with irritation merely at seeing and hearing Holmsten. But, faithful to his oath of brotherhood and promise to Ingolf, he suppressed all feelings of that kind as best he could. In any case, they never broke out. Thus it happened that Holmsten once in a humourous mood made merry over Leif's appearance. He meant nothing serious by it, but an innocent remark about Leif's large nose slipped thoughtlessly out of his mouth. When he saw what effect it had upon Leif, who became quite red in the face, he was immediately sorry, and said nothing. When Leif had thus come to know what he looked like, his eyes were suddenly opened to see how handsome Atle's sons were. From that day it was that he began to hate them in his heart, especially the youngest. He now noticed also how they looked at Helga, when they were on a visit. He did not like those looks. Of course he could well understand that they could scarcely keep their eyes from Helga. But Helga was his, and that made a difference. And although Atle's sons could not know that, yet at any rate they ought not to look at Helga so. It was especially Holmsten with whom Leif found himself angry—Holmsten, whose existence from the time that Leif wasa boy had rankled like a thorn in his mind. Holmsten was undeniably the handsomest of the brothers, perhaps because he, as the youngest, was now at the handsomest age. Moreover, it was Holmsten whose look fastened on Helga with the greatest pertinacity.
Leif was pained, and suffered. The most intolerable part about it almost was that it was impossible for him to let Helga notice his jealousy. She did not give the slightest occasion for it, but that did not comfort Leif at all—on the contrary. This made Leif's behaviour towards her rough and unintelligible. She was almost obliged to believe that he was no longer as fond of her as he had been, since he at times could do without her. It was only the pain in his look, even when he behaved in the most capricious way, which quieted her doubts. Yet she went about sometimes with such pensive eyes. There sat Leif, with a feeling of emptiness like a man who must see the most precious thing he possesses slip out of his hand, and cannot move a finger. Leif could at times become so anxious about Helga that all gladness and pleasure in life forsook him. Often she looked at him with a questioning and troubled look, and shut herself within herself.
The summer after Leif had completed seventeen and Ingolf nineteen winters, Atle's sons for the first time went on a Viking expedition. That summer was the worst Leif had ever experienced. The want of occupation, and the complete absence of all events, became doubly intolerable now that he knew that other young men, who were not much more than his own equals inage, were sailing out on the wide ways of the sea, making the acquaintance of foreign people and lands, trafficking or fighting with those whom they encountered wherever they went, and, in any case, having new experiences every day and every hour of the day. These thoughts were so painful that Leif at times became quite poorly and depressed when they attacked him.
That summer there arose besides in his distracted and uneasy mind a besetting idea, which, when it had once taken root, was not to be shaken off. Suppose Holmsten should be killed that summer, how would Helga receive the news when she heard it? He could sit silent and watch her for hours at a time in order to discover an answer to this question. Sometimes he introduced the Viking expedition of Atle's sons as a topic of conversation before her. She did not seem specially interested in it, but talked willingly, though without great interest, about it. These conversations gave Leif a strong impression of woman's falsity!
At last there came a day when he could hold out no longer, threw away all shame, and went to Helga and told her that news had come from Atle's sons that Holmsten had fallen. Helga sat for a while pensive and serious. "So we shall never see him more," she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. "I cannot really imagine Atle's sons without thinking of them all three together—so I remember them the first time I saw them, so one always saw them. His brothers will be very grieved at losing him."
Leif listened breathlessly, but her words and tone made him no wiser. "Was it Haersten—or Haasten?" he thought. "I should have told her that all three had fallen."
Utterly discomfited by this frustration of his attempt at surprise, he gave it up altogether. Now he was reckless. "That is not true," he confessed wearily. "There has come no news from Atle's sons."
Helga became quite silent from surprise. Her astonished look rested almost anxiously upon him. "How can you take it into your head to say such things?"
Leif looked maliciously and despairingly at her. "It is still too early to weep for Holmsten," he said coldly and scornfully. Then he rose suddenly and went. As he stepped out of the door, a burst of cheerful, rippling laughter broke out behind him. "Why does she laugh?" he thought, anxious and angry at the same time, but did not turn round to examine her face. The rest of the day he kept puzzling about her laugh. Did she laugh because it was not true that Holmsten had fallen, or did she only laugh at him, because she had discovered that he was jealous of Holmsten? For the rest it seemed to Leif that neither was a laughing matter. So morbid had he gradually become that all laughter seemed to him suspicious and unbecoming. It took Helga several days to eradicate the effects of her laughter from Leif's mind. Even kisses and embraces seemed ineffectual. He suffered from his peculiar obstinate temper, insisting that he had been insulted, but unable to overcome it. It required a severe effort before he could bring himself to repay Helga's gentleness with the same.
But then he seemed all at once to have become quite different. It seemed as though the exposure he had made of himself had cured him. He felt an immense relief. Now he had, at any rate, proof that Helga would neither become white as snow, nor fall dead, even if she should hear that Holmsten had fallen. He began gradually to surmise that his jealousy was only a cob-web of the brain.
Besides this, a thought had taken possession of him which drove all spiteful spectres out of his mind. As early as the next summer he would go on a Viking expedition himself. He would not remain here and become prematurely old and peevish. It was true that at summer-time he would still be two years short of the regular Viking age. But Ingolf would at that time be of the right age and could get his going legalized—for Ingolf would go too, as a matter of course. They could not go about at home for ever and become moss-grown without and mouldy within.
"Look at the old men!" he broke out, when in words that stumbled over each other he made Helga privy to his plan. "Must one not be sorry for them? Yet they have been young once. This is what age makes of people. It is better, when one is good for nothing else but boasting, to have something to boast of, than for want of experiences to become a wretched liar."
"Do you think that you will some day become like—like your father?" asked Helga, smiling. She thought Rodmar was worse than Orn.
"Without doubt," answered Leif decidedly. "I cancertainly not realize it. But why should I become otherwise? Must they not have once been young and full of life? Now they drivel!"
Helga sat for a little while and thought. And while she thought, her expression changed and became pensive and serious.
"You are so imprudent, Leif," she said, with anxious eyes, "I fear you will be killed in your first battle."
Leif laughed arrogantly. "Have you not noticed that I am invulnerable," he outbroke, with a beaming smile, "that nothing can injure me? There is something or other which protects me. I have thought about it. It can only beyourlove, Helga. What else should it be?"
Helga kissed him. She had tears in her eyes. "If my love can protect you, Leif, youareinvulnerable. My own friend, do whatever you will, only do not quite forget me."
Leif hurried from the place to meet Ingolf. And when he found him he was so completely the old Leif, with body and soul intent upon a definite object, that, with the stream of his talk and the irresistible absoluteness of his manner, he swept all ill-humour out of Ingolf's mind. Now that Leif had become quite himself again, Ingolf needed no more to be on the watch regarding his own attitude towards him. Ingolf stood quite quietly, listened to him, and allowed him to talk freely, without the slightest attempt at interruption. He merely stood and looked at him, and enjoyed feeling how his eagerness infected his own mind like a happyexcitement. Ingolf felt at that moment a gladness which he had forgotten. He could have embraced his brother.
While Leif spoke further and developed his plans, Ingolf pondered. He only followed Leif's stream of talk with one ear, only to ensure that nothing important escaped him. Meanwhile, he subjected the project to independent consideration. Perhaps it was, at any rate, over early to join in a Viking expedition just now. Perhaps they ought rather to wait a couple of years; Leif was so young, and was still not of the warrior's age. But, on the other hand, Leif needed a change just now. And he was quite self-reliant, though not of the proper age. They could also train themselves in the use of weapons in the winter. If they waited, Leif would again become strange and not to be understood or put up with. For Leif's sake they must go. How completely he was again the old Leif, even in his thoughts!
Ingolf concluded his considerations by saying: "I will talk with my father about the matter," in the middle of Leif's stream of words. Then Leif became uncontrollable for a while. He seized hold of Ingolf and whirled him round. He knew that with this sentence the matter was decided. But it seemed to him when, out of breath he let his laughing brother go, that he absolutely must say something about Orn.
"The old blusterer!" he snorted contemptuously. "To think that we should guide ourselves byhisopinion. Well, do as you like. Only forget not to say that we shall bring wine home for him—much wine. Then youwill see how tractable he will become. I will promise my father the same, in order to make him willing to give up the keys of the weapon-chest."
Ingolf went to his father, put the matter in a few words before him, asked him for ships and merchandize, and first and foremost for his consent to their making an expedition the next summer.
While Ingolf talked, Orn sat with a dull look and an unwilling expression in his face, as if it was with difficulty that he heard him to the end. "Ships and merchandize are your own," he answered peevishly, when Ingolf was silent. "You can do with both what you will, and it would not surprise me if you returned home empty-handed. Leif will still prove a costly brother to you. He will be captured, and you will have to pay the ransom. Keep a good watch on the ships, and don't let yourself be cheated in trafficking. When they offer you one cask of wine for a bear's skin, you should ask three, then you will get two. For the rest, you can go anywhere in the world as far as I am concerned, if only you do not disgrace your father. Go! No, wait a little. If Atle's sons go again on an expedition in the summer, show that you have a little intelligence, and go with them. Then you will be five together, and can better hold your own where you go. But if you return home without a good stock of red wine from the land of the Franks, I will never see you before my eyes, or hear so much as the sound of your voice. Go!"
Leif also talked with his father. He was extravagant in his description of the matter, and lavish in promises. He simply told his father that now in Ireland and theBritish Isles grape-wine from all the lands of the earth could be bought. When the old Rodmar, made young again by the thought of earth's flowing glories, began to talk of travelling with them, Leif changed his tone, and pictured the dangers and fatigues of the journey in vivid colours. Then Rodmar shrivelled into himself again and gave up the thought of travelling.
But Leif got the keys of the weapon-chest, and for the first time obtained his father's blessing.
Ingolf told Leif that his father had proposed that they should join with Atle's sons in the expedition. At first Leif was a little annoyed, but his joy was so great that everything else became of secondary importance in comparison with the prospect that he was going out—out on long journeys in the wide world. He saw at once the reasonableness of the proposed arrangement. They gained in strength by joining with Atle's sons, and would be invincible. Besides, there would be more ships, and the expedition would be a grander thing all round. And there was, moreover, something enticing in the idea of being with Atle's sons and witnessing what good and evil befell them.
Perhaps he would have the experience of seeing one or more of them fall by the enemy's hand. That would be an experience worth bringing home. When he had got so far in his considerations, he gave Ingolf's proposal his unconditional approval.
There was much joy in Orn's house. The old men were enlivened, their stories became more cheerful, and they were not quite so peevish as before. They already anticipated beforehand in their thoughts how the barrelsof red wine from the land of the Franks would be trundled up to the house from the landing-place. They knew how a barrel of wine should be handled from the moment the bung was drawn out till it stood empty. They already became fastidious and difficult to please with their thoughts of the red wine.
From that time they drank only mead. All other beer tasted sour, they said, and wrinkled their noses. One day Orn summoned Ingolf and reminded him in an imperious tone of honey: "From henceforth only mead will be brewed here in the house. Go!"
Ingolf smiled to himself when he came out from his father. When no one saw it, he permitted himself now and then a smile. Ingolf and Leif had their ships examined, and made other preparations.
Leif spent most days down below at the boat-houses. He was indefatigable, and showed a reflectiveness and care in his preparations which both surprised and rejoiced Ingolf.
They were to equip three ships, so there was much to do in taking goods on board and arranging them, especially as the ships had not been used for many years, and had therefore to be made taut, tarred and thoroughly overhauled.
Ingolf and Leif divided the work: Leif looked after the ships and their equipment, while Ingolf managed the properties of both, and arranged for obtaining by exchange goods for the expedition.
Leif was indefatigable. Neither the autumn's clammy rain nor the winter's keen frost and furious snow-storms overcame his energy. The whole day long,and sometimes far into the night, he was at the water-side. Helga had to seek him there so that he should not be quite apart from her. She was glad to see him so happy and absorbed. She was very warm-hearted, and when he could spare her some time, it was as though he gave her a treasure. When he thus for a time had forgotten his work, Helga's exuberant feeling, mingled with the desire to see Leif at work, made her occasionally remind him that he forgot the time. The energy with which he set to work again could be a song of secret gladness in Helga's heart for the rest of the day.
That winter it was Ingolf and Leif's turn to visit Atle's sons. Already during their first day at Gaulum, Ingolf brought up the subject which was to him at the moment of greatest importance. Turning to Haasten, he told the brothers that he and Leif had resolved to go on an expedition in the summer, and proposed to join them under Haasten's leadership, provided the brothers also had determined on a cruise.
Atle's sons had had a prosperous summer and were going out again. Haasten considered it self-evident that they should go in company. He asked his brothers' opinion. Haersten agreed with him. "Leif is two winters short of the regular Viking-age," answered Holmsten, with so little reflection that he hardly knew he had said it, before the words were out of his mouth.
Leif coloured. And as was always the case when he became angry, he involuntarily straightened himself. "Let us see if I stand back in any matter, when occasion arises," he answered, keeping calm successfully."If not, is there any reason for setting me aside on account of my youth?" Ingolf stood pale and resolute. "Leif and I go together," he said slowly. "I did not think this objection possible, or I would not have brought forward any proposal for fellowship. Yet we all know how common it is that the elder lawfully take the younger. Now, let us talk no more about it. We brothers are men enough to make our way for ourselves."
"I for my part am willing to go in fellowship with you both," answered Holmsten quietly and undisturbed, "and willing to take Leif. I only meant by what I said to draw attention to the fact that he is not of the legal age."
"Then your words were incautious and liable to be misunderstood," said Haasten reprovingly, in a severe tone which he seldom used towards his brothers. Then turning to Ingolf he continued: "We brothers offer you our fellowship, and beg you earnestly not to decline our offer. We have been friends since we were boys. We belong together on sea and on land. I will answer for it that we brothers keep our agreement to the last drop of our blood and the last farthing in our possession."
Thus they agreed to sail together on a Viking expedition under the leadership of Haasten as the eldest. The place and time of their meeting would be further discussed with Ingolf at the time of the spring sacrifice.
II
One sunny day in the fresh early summer, when airy white clouds were passing across the bright blue sky and a cheerful breeze was blowing over the dark blue sea, Ingolf and Leif sailed with their six ships from Dalsfjord to meet Atle's sons at Hisargavl.
Busy days had preceded their departure. Ingolf had in the course of the year collected a quantity of goods. They had to be divided among the ships, put on board, stowed away, and secured carefully. There were dried fish in quantities—some which they had caught themselves, and some bought from Lofoten. There were dried skins. There were large bales of wool. There was also a quantity of furs, obtained from inland by commerce with the Finns; light wares, minever, and other varieties of skins. When the goods had been stowed together amidships, the whole heap was covered with skins for protection against rain and sea, and well secured besides by long ropes and straps of hide.
The two largest of Ingolf's and Leif's six ships were dragon-ships. Each had five-and-thirty oars on board, in all, seventy oar-holes, and were remarkable warships. Splendidly carved dragon-heads, which could be taken off and put on at pleasure, towered high over the sharp prows, showing their teeth in war-like fashion and with tongues stretched out contemptuously against sea and sky, storms and enemies. The stern of the ship formed the dragon's tail, was artistically carved, and was, as well as the gunwale, adorned with ingenious intertwined devices.
The other ships were smaller. Two of them had thirty oars on board, the others five-and-twenty. They were also ornamented with animals' heads on the bows, and devices along the gunwale and stern, although not so splendidly as the leading ships.
Ingolf and Leif stood each on the poop of his dragon-ship when the little fleet rowed out from the landing-place by Orn's house. On the higher ground were gathered all those who were to remain behind at home. While the ships were still near the land, loud shouts of farewell were exchanged between those who stayed behind and those who were departing. But very soon the long, slender ships with their rows of oars crept out of hearing. They could then only make signs to one another.
All this fuss about departure annoyed Ingolf. As soon as they were in somewhat open water, he had the striped, four-sided, square sail hoisted. There was only one sail to each ship, but this one could be turned round the mast and managed with great ease and skill.
While they were still near land Leif often turned and looked back. He only saw one among the figures of those left behind—a girl whose fair hair floated in the breeze. She stood so still. Every time he saw her, his eyes filled with tears, which blotted her from his view. He did his best to refrain from weeping, but was on the verge of tears. For the moment the expedition lost all its attraction for him. He felt suddenly that wherever Helga was not, there was only triviality and tediousness. If he could have done so honourably he would have turned back. He felt the separation so acutelythat he was neither aware of the blue sea nor the sunny day. He could not understand why he had not before considered how impossible it really was to be parted from Helga for a whole summer. He suffered, moreover, from a painful consciousness that in his joyful absorption in the prospect of going on an expedition he had not thought of her at all. He hoped that she would not feel the separation so severely as he did, but immediately retraced the wish. For there was a certain consolation in being missed. His distress and inner confusion were great. Rapid oars were rowing away from Helga and home, which had always made brightness in his soul, and had now increased indescribably in value and attractiveness—rapid oars were rowing him away, and he had to let it be so. He was also obliged, in order not to let himself fall behind, to pull himself together and, following Ingolf's example, give command to hoist the sail.
The striped sail bellied out joyfully before the breeze. The heavily loaded ships pitched moderately. The water foamed around their bows and splashed against their sides. It was a voyage of the kind which makes a man feel peaceful and comfortable. The sting of grief in Leif's consciousness was dulled. His bereavement was mollified by the joy of journeying. The fjord opened out, and angry-looking waves spoke seriously with the ships, though always in the most friendly way. Willingly and yieldingly, if only they were able to float and advance, the ships obeyed the movements of the waves.
The crews on board were very cheerful. Sailing wasa pleasure. They raised their ringing voices in a loud song, while they looked to the weapons, ground their axes, fixed spear-points firm in their shafts, sharpened knives, and tested the strength of their bows. The oars lay in piles on the forks hung up for that purpose, and the wind was friendly enough to do the work. It was all as it should be; it was a happiness to live and a joy to think that they would soon have use for their weapons. Arms and legs were stretched out, and muscles were carefully and critically felt. Yes, they were all right. Some had specially hard and round knots of muscle to show, which were felt by all the bystanders, and the owners were both congratulated and secretly envied. The youngest, and those who had the most copious vocabulary, swore by the salt water and the golden bristles of the holy boar that they would neither admire nor envy. Secretly they promised themselves that they would take good swigs from the train-oil barrel.
Thus the day passed, and it was a glorious day.
By the evening there was only a certain, not altogether uncomfortable, depression remaining from the pain Leif had felt at parting from Helga. The rest of it he threw off in sleep. As he saw before him coasts which he did not know and had not seen before—perfectly new coasts in varied beauty—his mind took its last and decisive turn. Henceforth it only looked forward.
"Is that Norway, too?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "And have we sailed the whole night? Norway is great and beautiful! It must be splendid to live here."
He swallowed every new view with greedy eyes. These strange coasts aroused an intense desire to live in him. Here life was lived and many things happened—many things which one had no idea of.
The sworn brothers met Atle's sons, who also had each three ships, at Hisargavl, as they had agreed. And carried by a breeze, which had increased to what Vikings would call a good wind, the fifteen ships steered westward over the sea. They intended to go to the British Isles and greet the chiefs there. The ships glided smoothly over the water, keeping together as much as possible. Acquaintances were made between the ships, accompanied by mutual promises of beer and wine. The new friends swore to drink each other's healths in horns as soon as opportunity offered. There was much merriment on board. Here young and old felt in high spirits. On the sea they were at home, as everywhere where there was a prospect of adventure and the clash of weapons. And as the wind increased in strength their spirits rose.
When, next day, there came a storm, their expressions of joy were not quite so boisterous and demonstrative; now each had something to look after with his oar or scoop, but the air on board was full of courage and contentment with events as they might arrange themselves. A demand was made on their strength, and that was not bad, since they had it. They would show the old storm-god, Aegir, that they too would gladly have a brush with him. "Come on, Aegir's daughters, whose kiss is wet and salt and in its way burning! Come on, you white-tufted, seaweed-adorned youngmaidens! The Vikings will not shrink from any embrace, not even when willingly offered. Even Valkyries and Aegir's daughters they will embrace with joy. Come on! You will see our fellow's strength!" Thus they sang and boasted. This voyage made the old feel young in soul again and matured the young. Gliding along with oar and scoop, they chewed their dry fish. They had a long time to wait for any real sleep and rest. In the light nights a healthy man sleeps only like the birds. If he is on a sea voyage, he closes one eye, takes what rest he can get amid the waters, and enjoys the night air. For the rest, he chews his dried fish and is content. One must take the wind and water as it chances. If neither sun nor stars are visible, one sails by instinct, which is easy. Odin the All-Father has had his offerings, and Njord also is at hand. Perhaps the gods guide when the stars fail. And, anyhow, the Norns have not lost them from sight. They received what was due to them, and that was as it should be.
After some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the Vikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some bare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite comfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white foam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke in mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. "It must be splendid to live here," thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing in his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail farther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleakand bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there were the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the names before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the Hjaltland Islands—here they lay.
Ingolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with interest. He said: "They are desert islands; what good is there in them?" "They are easy to defend," an old sea-dog answered him. Immediately the islands gained in Ingolf's estimation, but he did not want to live there.
They sailed farther, and came to other islands, equally bleak and bare—islands with small, narrow valleys, and here and there a crooked, worn, storm-hardened fir. Those who had not voyaged before, learned that these were the South Islands. They lay here in the midst of the sea, exposed to everlasting storms, roared around by unwearied billows, veiled in rain and fog. "Here the sun seldom shines," one of Leif's company informed him, "and certainly never for a whole day." Leif thought that it was a strange and melancholy country. There was something in his mind which responded to these islands. He would gladly live here.
They sailed on, and found blue sky and sunshine on the sea.
At last they approached the shore of England. When Ingolf and Leif saw it, each remained standing on his poop dumb with delight, and a song arose in both their souls. This was certainly a rich and glorious land! Such fertility they had never thought possibleon earth. Did the vine grow here? Leif asked his fellow-countryman, with quiet awe in his voice. The old greybeard answered him, and said that as far as he knew, when he reflected, the vine did not grow in a land so far north. "This land's fertility and wealth is certainly great, but nothing compared to that of the land of the Franks," he concluded. Leif willingly believed him, but did not understand. Here it must be good to live. In spite of all bedizened wooden gods, here he would dwell. "Or let me first see many lands," he added at once with a ravenous, hungry consciousness of not being able to live everywhere. "Ah! The glorious lands of this earth—there a life is lived which one has no part in!" he thought to himself, and felt empty in soul.
Haasten had the peace flag hoisted, and they sailed towards the land. This would be a good place to trade in. They anchored their ships in a little bay among wood-covered hills and heights. A crowd of armed men had already gathered on the place on the shore where they were preparing to land, and stood gazing towards the ships. There was evidently a great deal to find out on both sides. Yet they seemed, in spite of their weapons, quite peaceful, and in consequence they also hoisted the trade flag.
The ships arranged themselves side by side, according to Haasten's directions, the first so near to the land that it could be made fast by a rope to a rock on the shore.
Men with long hooks stood at the ship's sterns and kept them stationary, till the anchor-stones fell in theirproper places, and it was clear that the ships were secured. Then a long, slender plank with steps cut in it was pushed towards the land. By it Atle's sons and the two sworn brothers with them went ashore.
The chiefs of the district inquired of them in courteous language what they had to sell. Haasten told them, and asked them in turn what wares could be bought here. When all information had been given it was clear that both parties wished to trade, and they quickly resolved on a two weeks' peace for that purpose.
When the peace was made, and hostages given on both sides, serfs dragged cauldrons and iron stands on shore. Other serfs were sent to collect fuel. How good it would be to taste hot food again! On board the ships no fire could be made; there one lived on dried fish, dried and smoked meat, and bread which gradually became a trial to their teeth. That was luxurious fare on board, and tasted well in hungry mouths. On land it was another story; there they liked to sit round a smoking pot. The first thing they bought was an ox. Therewiththatday was finished.
Leif was very restless; he had to go out and look round the neighbourhood. He chose a number of his best men, obtained leave to kill game, and gave himself up to roaming about the woods, not so much to hunt as to see. He feasted his eyes on the mighty forests and the beauty of the calm lakes. He drank in joyfully the foreign air, and let his mind be charmed by the contours of the foreign landscape.
But the unrest in his blood would not be quieted. The wonderful perfume from all the growths of the earth,the sight of the luxurious overarching fruit-trees in blossom, the fragrant scent of the meadows, and the profusion everywhere of brightly coloured flowers—all these combined to intoxicate him. Besides, he obtained wine, which he had never tasted before, and was transported in gladness and forgetfulness. He also looked with restless curiosity in the bright, promising eyes of many delightful young women—eyes which tempted like ripe fruit.
When a week had passed in this way, Ingolf spoke to him in a friendly and smiling fashion, and reminded him that he was forgetting to trade. Leif was a little embarrassed by his smile, and suddenly became very busy. It was true he had completely forgotten to trade. He went to the market and looked at the wares. And when he saw there a quantity of silk goods and richly elaborated ornaments of gold, silver, and gilded bronze, he remembered Helga, gave himself up to trade, and forgot to chaffer about the things. He bought many ornaments. As soon as he had bought one, he fell in love with another. He bought precious stones, costly clothes, and delicate silks. Then his eye fell on some artistic gold-embroidered stuffs he had never seen the like of, and he bought a quantity of them. Glasswares of different kinds, goblets, vessels, and pearls were also a speciality; of them he had to make a copious selection. He enjoyed this new experience of looking at things and then buying them. An article which he had never seen before, and had not the faintest idea that it existed in the world, became suddenly his property, and assumed life and significance. That gave expansion to his mind.
Ingolf kept an eye upon him, and amused himself in his quiet way at his method of trading. In commerce as in everything else Leif was simplicity itself, and never learnt to use his reason or to keep within bounds. Ingolf let him go on till he found he had gone far enough; then he put the brakes on.
"Give me now rather power to trade with your wares," he proposed to him. "You are no good at trade; you only buy the most unnecessary things, and let yourself be cheated into the bargain. In the winter you cannot satisfy your hunger with clothes or allay your thirst with empty glass goblets." Leif saw that he was right, and willingly granted him the desired authority. He had bought many things, and felt like a king. Already he pictured to himself his homecoming. First he would give Helga a single article such as he did not possess many of. She would kiss him, and her face would be tinged with a delicate red, as was the case when she was happy or emotionally stirred. Then he would come with another thing and still another, till Helga stood speechless with her eyes full of tears. Then he would draw her to himself....
It seemed to him a very long, dreary summer he was approaching. As he was in the act of leaving the market his eye fell on an ornament with carved figures of gilt bone. He felt he must have it, even if it cost three bearskins. Ingolf intervened in the matter, and Leif obtained the ornament for one bearskin. So he was atlength satisfied and gave up all further trading. Then he roamed round again in the woods with his little following, or simply lay and dozed, and let longing and delight pass like swift breezes through his mind. "Ah, England," he thought, "your land is fertile and your women are beautiful."
He wished gradually that he could live and be married in all the lands of the earth—preferably all at once. He dreamt much of women at that time. He imbibed their various charms with much appreciation. But sometimes his longing for Helga drove all others out of his mind. Helga sat at home and was faithful to him, and awaited him with longing. How did the days pass with her? His heart began to beat heavily and with a feeling of guilt regarding her. She possessed him once for all. She was his. Yes, she was like the year, and the other women were like days—the fleeting days. He compared in his thoughts all the different women, who had made an impression on him, with Helga. One by one they faded and disappeared as he remembered Helga, who was his. They disappeared—yes! But it is to be observed that this lasted only till he saw them again, when they again kindled his restlessness and manifold longing.
The day came when the trade-truce was over. Haasten did not think there was any reason to prolong it, and consulted Ingolf on the subject. Ingolf answered that they had bought what they wanted, and agreed with him. So the hostages were returned on both sides with many precautions, and the Viking-ships, disburdened of their cargoes, rowed out of the bay and hoistedsail. But they only sailed away for appearance' sake. By night they ran into another bay. They had a great desire to get some spoil along the fertile coast. But they did not return unexpected. The chief of the district, foreseeing this possibility, had collected all his people, and now stood ready to meet them on the shore. Haasten thought it safer not to attempt a landing where so many opposed them, and ordered the ships to row out of the bay again.
The old Vikings grumbled, his brothers were silent, and Leif foamed with rage. But Haasten did not care at all. He remained lying outside the bay for two days and nights. The weather was calm, and not suitable for sailing. He held the chief and his people bound to the spot. Then what he expected happened. A powerful wind made it possible to set sail at once, to run down along the coast quicker than the people on shore could follow, to anchor up the mouth of a river, and to have the crews drawn up on land in battle-array before the main force of the people of the district could get there.
Haasten had only allowed a few men to remain on board, but his force was far inferior in numbers to that of the defenders. The fight took place in a flat meadow along the river. Haasten quickly saw that he had undertaken more than he could manage. These native troops had obviously encountered the Vikings before. Haasten quickly gave his people orders to take refuge on board; he did not wish to run the risk of losing men so early in the summer.