II
One sunny day in the fresh early summer, when airy white clouds were passing across the bright blue sky and a cheerful breeze was blowing over the dark blue sea, Ingolf and Leif sailed with their six ships from Dalsfjord to meet Atle’s sons at Hisargavl.
Busy days had preceded their departure. Ingolf had in the course of the year collected a quantity of goods. They had to be divided among the ships, put on board, stowed away, and secured carefully. There were dried fish in quantities—some which they had caught themselves, and some bought from Lofoten. There were dried skins. There were large bales of wool. There was also a quantity of furs, obtained from inland by commerce with the Finns; light wares, minever, and other varieties of skins. When the goods had been stowed together amidships, the whole heap was covered with skins for protection against rain and sea, and well secured besides by long ropes and straps of hide.
The two largest of Ingolf’s and Leif’s six ships were dragon-ships. Each had five-and-thirty oars on board, in all, seventy oar-holes, and were remarkable warships. Splendidly carved dragon-heads, which could be taken off and put on at pleasure, towered high over the sharp prows, showing their teeth in war-like fashion and with tongues stretched out contemptuously against sea and sky, storms and enemies. The stern of the ship formed the dragon’s tail, was artistically carved, and was, as well as the gunwale, adorned with ingenious intertwined devices.
The other ships were smaller. Two of them had thirty oars on board, the others five-and-twenty. They were also ornamented with animals’ heads on the bows, and devices along the gunwale and stern, although not so splendidly as the leading ships.
Ingolf and Leif stood each on the poop of his dragon-ship when the little fleet rowed out from the landing-place by Orn’s house. On the higher ground were gathered all those who were to remain behind at home. While the ships were still near the land, loud shouts of farewell were exchanged between those who stayed behind and those who were departing. But very soon the long, slender ships with their rows of oars crept out of hearing. They could then only make signs to one another.
All this fuss about departure annoyed Ingolf. As soon as they were in somewhat open water, he had the striped, four-sided, square sail hoisted. There was only one sail to each ship, but this one could be turned round the mast and managed with great ease and skill.
While they were still near land Leif often turned and looked back. He only saw one among the figures of those left behind—a girl whose fair hair floated in the breeze. She stood so still. Every time he saw her, his eyes filled with tears, which blotted her from his view. He did his best to refrain from weeping, but was on the verge of tears. For the moment the expedition lost all its attraction for him. He felt suddenly that wherever Helga was not, there was only triviality and tediousness. If he could have done so honourably he would have turned back. He felt the separation so acutely that he was neither aware of the blue sea nor the sunny day. He could not understand why he had not before considered how impossible it really was to be parted from Helga for a whole summer. He suffered, moreover, from a painful consciousness that in his joyful absorption in the prospect of going on an expedition he had not thought of her at all. He hoped that she would not feel the separation so severely as he did, but immediately retraced the wish. For there was a certain consolation in being missed. His distress and inner confusion were great. Rapid oars were rowing away from Helga and home, which had always made brightness in his soul, and had now increased indescribably in value and attractiveness—rapid oars were rowing him away, and he had to let it be so. He was also obliged, in order not to let himself fall behind, to pull himself together and, following Ingolf’s example, give command to hoist the sail.
The striped sail bellied out joyfully before the breeze. The heavily loaded ships pitched moderately. The water foamed around their bows and splashed against their sides. It was a voyage of the kind which makes a man feel peaceful and comfortable. The sting of grief in Leif’s consciousness was dulled. His bereavement was mollified by the joy of journeying. The fjord opened out, and angry-looking waves spoke seriously with the ships, though always in the most friendly way. Willingly and yieldingly, if only they were able to float and advance, the ships obeyed the movements of the waves.
The crews on board were very cheerful. Sailing was a pleasure. They raised their ringing voices in a loud song, while they looked to the weapons, ground their axes, fixed spear-points firm in their shafts, sharpened knives, and tested the strength of their bows. The oars lay in piles on the forks hung up for that purpose, and the wind was friendly enough to do the work. It was all as it should be; it was a happiness to live and a joy to think that they would soon have use for their weapons. Arms and legs were stretched out, and muscles were carefully and critically felt. Yes, they were all right. Some had specially hard and round knots of muscle to show, which were felt by all the bystanders, and the owners were both congratulated and secretly envied. The youngest, and those who had the most copious vocabulary, swore by the salt water and the golden bristles of the holy boar that they would neither admire nor envy. Secretly they promised themselves that they would take good swigs from the train-oil barrel.
Thus the day passed, and it was a glorious day.
By the evening there was only a certain, not altogether uncomfortable, depression remaining from the pain Leif had felt at parting from Helga. The rest of it he threw off in sleep. As he saw before him coasts which he did not know and had not seen before—perfectly new coasts in varied beauty—his mind took its last and decisive turn. Henceforth it only looked forward.
“Is that Norway, too?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “And have we sailed the whole night? Norway is great and beautiful! It must be splendid to live here.”
He swallowed every new view with greedy eyes. These strange coasts aroused an intense desire to live in him. Here life was lived and many things happened—many things which one had no idea of.
The sworn brothers met Atle’s sons, who also had each three ships, at Hisargavl, as they had agreed. And carried by a breeze, which had increased to what Vikings would call a good wind, the fifteen ships steered westward over the sea. They intended to go to the British Isles and greet the chiefs there. The ships glided smoothly over the water, keeping together as much as possible. Acquaintances were made between the ships, accompanied by mutual promises of beer and wine. The new friends swore to drink each other’s healths in horns as soon as opportunity offered. There was much merriment on board. Here young and old felt in high spirits. On the sea they were at home, as everywhere where there was a prospect of adventure and the clash of weapons. And as the wind increased in strength their spirits rose.
When, next day, there came a storm, their expressions of joy were not quite so boisterous and demonstrative; now each had something to look after with his oar or scoop, but the air on board was full of courage and contentment with events as they might arrange themselves. A demand was made on their strength, and that was not bad, since they had it. They would show the old storm-god, Aegir, that they too would gladly have a brush with him. “Come on, Aegir’s daughters, whose kiss is wet and salt and in its way burning! Come on, you white-tufted, seaweed-adorned young maidens! The Vikings will not shrink from any embrace, not even when willingly offered. Even Valkyries and Aegir’s daughters they will embrace with joy. Come on! You will see our fellow’s strength!” Thus they sang and boasted. This voyage made the old feel young in soul again and matured the young. Gliding along with oar and scoop, they chewed their dry fish. They had a long time to wait for any real sleep and rest. In the light nights a healthy man sleeps only like the birds. If he is on a sea voyage, he closes one eye, takes what rest he can get amid the waters, and enjoys the night air. For the rest, he chews his dried fish and is content. One must take the wind and water as it chances. If neither sun nor stars are visible, one sails by instinct, which is easy. Odin the All-Father has had his offerings, and Njord also is at hand. Perhaps the gods guide when the stars fail. And, anyhow, the Norns have not lost them from sight. They received what was due to them, and that was as it should be.
After some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the Vikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some bare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite comfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white foam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke in mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. “It must be splendid to live here,” thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing in his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail farther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleak and bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there were the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the names before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the Hjaltland Islands—here they lay.
Ingolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with interest. He said: “They are desert islands; what good is there in them?” “They are easy to defend,” an old sea-dog answered him. Immediately the islands gained in Ingolf’s estimation, but he did not want to live there.
They sailed farther, and came to other islands, equally bleak and bare—islands with small, narrow valleys, and here and there a crooked, worn, storm-hardened fir. Those who had not voyaged before, learned that these were the South Islands. They lay here in the midst of the sea, exposed to everlasting storms, roared around by unwearied billows, veiled in rain and fog. “Here the sun seldom shines,” one of Leif’s company informed him, “and certainly never for a whole day.” Leif thought that it was a strange and melancholy country. There was something in his mind which responded to these islands. He would gladly live here.
They sailed on, and found blue sky and sunshine on the sea.
At last they approached the shore of England. When Ingolf and Leif saw it, each remained standing on his poop dumb with delight, and a song arose in both their souls. This was certainly a rich and glorious land! Such fertility they had never thought possible on earth. Did the vine grow here? Leif asked his fellow-countryman, with quiet awe in his voice. The old greybeard answered him, and said that as far as he knew, when he reflected, the vine did not grow in a land so far north. “This land’s fertility and wealth is certainly great, but nothing compared to that of the land of the Franks,” he concluded. Leif willingly believed him, but did not understand. Here it must be good to live. In spite of all bedizened wooden gods, here he would dwell. “Or let me first see many lands,” he added at once with a ravenous, hungry consciousness of not being able to live everywhere. “Ah! The glorious lands of this earth—there a life is lived which one has no part in!” he thought to himself, and felt empty in soul.
Haasten had the peace flag hoisted, and they sailed towards the land. This would be a good place to trade in. They anchored their ships in a little bay among wood-covered hills and heights. A crowd of armed men had already gathered on the place on the shore where they were preparing to land, and stood gazing towards the ships. There was evidently a great deal to find out on both sides. Yet they seemed, in spite of their weapons, quite peaceful, and in consequence they also hoisted the trade flag.
The ships arranged themselves side by side, according to Haasten’s directions, the first so near to the land that it could be made fast by a rope to a rock on the shore.
Men with long hooks stood at the ship’s sterns and kept them stationary, till the anchor-stones fell in their proper places, and it was clear that the ships were secured. Then a long, slender plank with steps cut in it was pushed towards the land. By it Atle’s sons and the two sworn brothers with them went ashore.
The chiefs of the district inquired of them in courteous language what they had to sell. Haasten told them, and asked them in turn what wares could be bought here. When all information had been given it was clear that both parties wished to trade, and they quickly resolved on a two weeks’ peace for that purpose.
When the peace was made, and hostages given on both sides, serfs dragged cauldrons and iron stands on shore. Other serfs were sent to collect fuel. How good it would be to taste hot food again! On board the ships no fire could be made; there one lived on dried fish, dried and smoked meat, and bread which gradually became a trial to their teeth. That was luxurious fare on board, and tasted well in hungry mouths. On land it was another story; there they liked to sit round a smoking pot. The first thing they bought was an ox. Therewith that day was finished.
Leif was very restless; he had to go out and look round the neighbourhood. He chose a number of his best men, obtained leave to kill game, and gave himself up to roaming about the woods, not so much to hunt as to see. He feasted his eyes on the mighty forests and the beauty of the calm lakes. He drank in joyfully the foreign air, and let his mind be charmed by the contours of the foreign landscape.
But the unrest in his blood would not be quieted. The wonderful perfume from all the growths of the earth, the sight of the luxurious overarching fruit-trees in blossom, the fragrant scent of the meadows, and the profusion everywhere of brightly coloured flowers—all these combined to intoxicate him. Besides, he obtained wine, which he had never tasted before, and was transported in gladness and forgetfulness. He also looked with restless curiosity in the bright, promising eyes of many delightful young women—eyes which tempted like ripe fruit.
When a week had passed in this way, Ingolf spoke to him in a friendly and smiling fashion, and reminded him that he was forgetting to trade. Leif was a little embarrassed by his smile, and suddenly became very busy. It was true he had completely forgotten to trade. He went to the market and looked at the wares. And when he saw there a quantity of silk goods and richly elaborated ornaments of gold, silver, and gilded bronze, he remembered Helga, gave himself up to trade, and forgot to chaffer about the things. He bought many ornaments. As soon as he had bought one, he fell in love with another. He bought precious stones, costly clothes, and delicate silks. Then his eye fell on some artistic gold-embroidered stuffs he had never seen the like of, and he bought a quantity of them. Glasswares of different kinds, goblets, vessels, and pearls were also a speciality; of them he had to make a copious selection. He enjoyed this new experience of looking at things and then buying them. An article which he had never seen before, and had not the faintest idea that it existed in the world, became suddenly his property, and assumed life and significance. That gave expansion to his mind.
Ingolf kept an eye upon him, and amused himself in his quiet way at his method of trading. In commerce as in everything else Leif was simplicity itself, and never learnt to use his reason or to keep within bounds. Ingolf let him go on till he found he had gone far enough; then he put the brakes on.
“Give me now rather power to trade with your wares,” he proposed to him. “You are no good at trade; you only buy the most unnecessary things, and let yourself be cheated into the bargain. In the winter you cannot satisfy your hunger with clothes or allay your thirst with empty glass goblets.” Leif saw that he was right, and willingly granted him the desired authority. He had bought many things, and felt like a king. Already he pictured to himself his homecoming. First he would give Helga a single article such as he did not possess many of. She would kiss him, and her face would be tinged with a delicate red, as was the case when she was happy or emotionally stirred. Then he would come with another thing and still another, till Helga stood speechless with her eyes full of tears. Then he would draw her to himself....
It seemed to him a very long, dreary summer he was approaching. As he was in the act of leaving the market his eye fell on an ornament with carved figures of gilt bone. He felt he must have it, even if it cost three bearskins. Ingolf intervened in the matter, and Leif obtained the ornament for one bearskin. So he was at length satisfied and gave up all further trading. Then he roamed round again in the woods with his little following, or simply lay and dozed, and let longing and delight pass like swift breezes through his mind. “Ah, England,” he thought, “your land is fertile and your women are beautiful.”
He wished gradually that he could live and be married in all the lands of the earth—preferably all at once. He dreamt much of women at that time. He imbibed their various charms with much appreciation. But sometimes his longing for Helga drove all others out of his mind. Helga sat at home and was faithful to him, and awaited him with longing. How did the days pass with her? His heart began to beat heavily and with a feeling of guilt regarding her. She possessed him once for all. She was his. Yes, she was like the year, and the other women were like days—the fleeting days. He compared in his thoughts all the different women, who had made an impression on him, with Helga. One by one they faded and disappeared as he remembered Helga, who was his. They disappeared—yes! But it is to be observed that this lasted only till he saw them again, when they again kindled his restlessness and manifold longing.
The day came when the trade-truce was over. Haasten did not think there was any reason to prolong it, and consulted Ingolf on the subject. Ingolf answered that they had bought what they wanted, and agreed with him. So the hostages were returned on both sides with many precautions, and the Viking-ships, disburdened of their cargoes, rowed out of the bay and hoisted sail. But they only sailed away for appearance’ sake. By night they ran into another bay. They had a great desire to get some spoil along the fertile coast. But they did not return unexpected. The chief of the district, foreseeing this possibility, had collected all his people, and now stood ready to meet them on the shore. Haasten thought it safer not to attempt a landing where so many opposed them, and ordered the ships to row out of the bay again.
The old Vikings grumbled, his brothers were silent, and Leif foamed with rage. But Haasten did not care at all. He remained lying outside the bay for two days and nights. The weather was calm, and not suitable for sailing. He held the chief and his people bound to the spot. Then what he expected happened. A powerful wind made it possible to set sail at once, to run down along the coast quicker than the people on shore could follow, to anchor up the mouth of a river, and to have the crews drawn up on land in battle-array before the main force of the people of the district could get there.
Haasten had only allowed a few men to remain on board, but his force was far inferior in numbers to that of the defenders. The fight took place in a flat meadow along the river. Haasten quickly saw that he had undertaken more than he could manage. These native troops had obviously encountered the Vikings before. Haasten quickly gave his people orders to take refuge on board; he did not wish to run the risk of losing men so early in the summer.
Leif and Holmsten happened to be near one another in the fight. Each quickly discovered how bravely and boldly the other fought, and that fact, together with the circumstance that they here stood side by side in a battle for life and death, drew them nearer to each other, and banished for a while all hate towards Holmsten out of Leif’s mind. They were vexed at the order to go on board with their task unperformed, but obeyed.
When they were safe, Holmsten said: “Listen, Leif; let us take a pair of the smallest and swiftest ships, and make a trip on our own account along the coast.”
Leif immediately agreed. Haasten bade them do as they liked, but to be careful not to be too long away. But Ingolf gave his vote against the expedition.
“Let the boys amuse themselves a little,” Haasten said, with a smile. “It will do them good. They fight smartly by themselves. And we will give them some good men.” Since Haasten promised that the other ships should follow them as soon as a great part of the enemy’s forces had dispersed in order to follow the two game-cocks’ movements, Ingolf yielded, although with reluctance.
When the chiefs on shore saw two small ships separate themselves from the fleet and sail away, they believed that it was a stratagem, and dispatched only a small force from the place to keep an eye on them. Haasten had reckoned on this, and now Ingolf’s anxiety was partly quieted.
Leif and Holmsten sailed up along the coast, and succeeded in landing. But they had no experience in drawing up men for battle, and when the land forces sent to watch them suddenly attacked, there was no order among their men. There followed a confused struggle which soon developed into a number of single combats, man against man. Leif was opposed by an older fighter than himself, who did not leave or afford him the least opening for an attack. He had enough to do to ward off his rapid and heavy blows with shield and sword. Leif already thought that that day would be his last under the sun; he felt a paralysing fear stealing slowly over him and robbing him of strength. He noticed that he had become wet down to his legs, which had begun to shake violently, and shame and fear concentrated themselves to a wild frenzy in his soul. He suddenly saw red. If he were to fall, his opponent should at any rate carry away marks of the battle. He flung away sword and shield, and took hold of his battle-ax. How he killed the other he never understood, but at last he had him stretched flat on the ground. He picked up his sword and shield, completely out of breath, and shaking in his whole body, and looked around for a new opponent. Not far away the leader of the land-force was exchanging powerful blows with Holmsten. Holmsten had had his shield hewn in pieces, but there seemed to be something the matter with his opponent’s sword. When Leif had stood for a moment looking on, his eye fell on a man who was approaching Holmsten from behind with uplifted ax. It was impossible for Leif to get near in time, but purely instinctively he grasped his spear, and as instinctively hesitated a moment before throwing it. Holmsten’s head cloven by an ax was what he in his heart longed to see. But it was as impossible to let it happen as it was desirable. It must not happen! The spear whistled through the air, and a man with lifted ax fell over on his face just behind Holmsten’s back. Holmsten’s opponent had become aware that something was happening, and became for a moment off his guard. Holmsten took advantage of that moment, drove his sword into his stomach, and thrust hard. The other tottered and fell, with the greatest astonishment in his distorted face. And now that their leader had fallen, the rest of the force fled. Some of them were cut down while flying. Holmsten and Leif gave themselves no time to draw breath. They ran towards the town, followed by their men. The women and children fled in great confusion when they saw the Vikings approaching. Some of the men wanted to go after them, and Leif felt his heart thump in his breast when he saw the young women flying. Especially one of them, whom he clearly recognized, and who did not seem to be taking very much trouble to escape, and certainly had set her eye upon him, attracted him. But when he heard Holmsten call the men back sharply, he gave up following her. Holmsten was obviously strongly excited, though outwardly quite calm.
“First work, then play!” he commanded, in a tone which permitted no opposition, and the Vikings directed their course further against the deserted town. Holmsten and the other sons of Atle had not bought anything but corn, honey, and wine. What they wanted in the shape of articles of luxury and clothes, they expected to get without further expenditure. It was plain that there was plenty to take in the town. A rich booty of ornaments, silks, clothes, precious stones, and other similar things was collected in bundles and carried to the waiting ships. When this had been seen to, Holmsten gave as many of his men as he could spare leave to go on shore. Now they could go and flirt with the girls if they liked. Holmsten remained on board and stowed away the booty. So Leif could not manage to go on shore, though he greatly wanted to see what was up there in the wood.
When sunset approached, and it began to be evening, Holmsten told Leif to go on shore and blow the signal with the horn for the crews to go on board. They had collected plenty of booty, and there was nothing more to wait for. Now they had been long enough on shore. Leif had from the ship marked a little height which lay apart, and from which the horn could be heard far around. Upon it he meant to stand and give the signal. The ascent to the height was covered with low bushes. In one of these bushes Leif’s eye fell on a girl. He looked more closely, and knew her again. Her eye was soft and timid, and she was very young. Leif forgot what he had gone for, and remained with her. He cooled his hot face in the profusion of her dark hair, and lost himself. First he was taken with her extravagant wildness; then he was scared, and rapidly cooled off. When he left her, she wept. Leif went slowly farther up the ascent. When he reached the top, he set the horn to his mouth and blew hard. Its tones reverberated angrily over the landscape. Leif was depressed in mind by disappointment and weariness. It was not a pleasant weariness like that after a battle. He had toyed with the British girls, and dared not think of Helga. The remembrance of Helga was like a wound in his soul—a wound which he dared not touch lest he should tear it open. It must have time to heal, which it might by forgetfulness. He felt a great relief when they rowed out from the bay and set sail. He never wished to come here again. Up on the height a girl sat and wept. In self-defence he hardened himself. Let her weep! What was it to him? He was not hers, and she had sought him herself.
Holmsten and Leif were greeted with loud shouts of joy when they returned to the fleet. They gave an account of the battle, showed their booty, and reaped much praise. When Haasten and Ingolf heard that Leif had saved Holmsten’s life, they exchanged a look, and were both very glad. Haasten praised Leif for his prowess in battle, and it was a great honour to be praised aloud by Haasten. But it gave Leif little pleasure now. His unstable mind had lost its balance. Now he wished that he had never thrown the spear. Ingolf was not long in discovering that a change had taken place in his brother. He knew Leif, and guessed the reason. A long sea voyage would be the best for Leif now, he thought, and he induced Haasten to alter his plan and to sail first to a place on the Irish coast which he knew lay far away. Haasten complied willingly. He had been successful in trading, and had secured a rich booty. Perhaps it was the most prudent course not to visit at once the nearest coasts. It was never certain what connections there might be between the different chiefs of the district. So they hoisted sail and directed their course towards Ireland.
It was soon evident that Ingolf’s insight was correct with regard to what Leif needed to restore his mind to its balance again.
They encountered a lively summer storm in the channel. That was beneficial. The warmth and the fine weather had begun to make the crews somewhat slack.
The sea journey ventilated Leif’s mind. He again became his former self: a young Viking with desire for adventures of all kinds and an insatiable thirst to see new lands and to exchange blows with foreign chiefs.