III
The Vikings travelled far that summer. From England they sailed to Ireland, past the Isle of Man, whose cliff-lined coast they could only salute on that journey. Later on they meant to renew and deepen their acquaintanceship with it.
They had successful trade with Ireland. Leif saw many new things which he could not resist. Ingolf looked after the purchase of corn, honey, wine, wheat, and the more useful articles of metal for both of them.
Atle’s sons were excellent traders. At first they made considerably more out of their goods than the sworn brothers. But Ingolf gave close attention to their proceedings, and learnt the art from them. And when he had learnt all that Atle’s sons could do in the matter of trade, he did not remain stationary at that point. He developed himself further on his own account. Instead of doing trade in single articles, he began to deal with considerable quantities. This brought in greater gains. Soon the sons of Atle had something to learn from him.
The five Viking leaders had remained on the best terms together. Haasten, with his self-control and sense of fairness, was distinctly marked out as leader. Leif had still fits of hatred towards Holmsten and of ill-humour towards the other brothers, but he kept his temper under restraint. And whenever they encountered foes he became, as it were, at once their brother, and fought bravely on their side.
He much admired Atle’s sons’ skill in handling their weapons and their composure in battle. They fought as coolly and calmly as if nothing at all serious was intended. Only when they attacked was a certain excitement apparent. An attack by one of Atle’s sons meant generally a swift death for the opponent. They played, to be sure, but there was seriousness in their play. It meant nothing less than life or death.
Leif was greatly taken by the immovable calm with which they let their weapons talk. He did not understand how they could fight and yet at the same time be as it were spectators. He understood Ingolf’s method of fighting much better.
Ingolf attacked at once with his full strength and remained steadily on the offensive. His figure seemed to increase in weight. His blows clove shields, and his thrust penetrated where it struck. He never let himself be forced into a defensive attitude, but attacked fiercely, though always under control. His mode of fighting was not so supercilious as that of Atle’s sons; he gave himself more away, but preserved his composure. This quietness and assurance of Ingolf and Atle’s sons remained a riddle for Leif. For him, composure in battle would have meant simply death. He handled his weapons very awkwardly till he began to see red. From that moment he became so sure in his use of them that it was a pleasure to watch him. But he fought unconsciously, and did not know what had happened before his opponent lay prone. Then for the first time he took breath and collected himself. It was fine to see him, when he let himself go, tall and disorderly, crouching in the indomitable display of his strength. It seemed easy to take his life, and as if his enemy had it in his hand. Leif did not care how many openings he gave his opponent. But it was not easy to take advantage of these openings, for he never remained long in one place. He danced round his enemy, confused him with his apparent want of plan in attack, and pierced or slashed him before he was aware. Haasten enjoyed watching Leif fight. He insisted that Leif was invincible, for he was so thoroughly absorbed in the battle that even a superior opponent must give way before his waspish attack. “Leif could only be killed by accident—only a mistletoe branch could strike him,” Haasten said. He came to be quite fond of Leif.
The Viking expedition sailed farther along the coasts of Ireland, and Leif was fascinated with the remarkable country he found there. Ireland, that unquiet, ever-changing land, appealed in a peculiarly intimate degree to his heart. Every time that he thought he knew it, he discovered that he did not. He was continually coming across something new. Wild, stony tracts were suddenly succeeded by fertile plains. Desert heaths, dark woods, narrow valleys with black rivers at the bottom, friendly coasts, rugged lines of cliff, peaceful towering mountains, placid lakes, roaring rivers—all these Ireland had. Most wonderful of all, perhaps, were the abruptly changing lights. Ireland had its own sky, full of whims like itself, rapidly changing from lofty pure blue depths to a watery layer of clouds over the land. There might be a blazing festival of sunshine over the landscape, and the next moment it was over-shadowed by heavy masses of cloud. A tract of country which had been like a brilliant smile was suddenly completely changed, and became dark and threatening, filled with a special sense of discomfort, deep and unescapable as a dream. Ireland played with one’s heart, filled it with joy, to oppress it the next moment with fear and foreboding.
And Ireland’s people were like Ireland’s land and light. They were wild men whose soul was a mixture of gentle dreaminess and fierce rage. People who devoted themselves to fighting with their whole soul and did not know how to give or expect quarter. Their polite friendliness, nay, even brotherliness, in peaceful intercourse stood in glaring contrast to the savagery in battle and their cruelty towards fallen or captive enemies. They could amuse themselves by opening a man’s stomach and letting him wind the entrails out of his body by leading him round a tree. They counted that a delightful amusement, and their gaiety was enhanced if the captive groaned. They were a nation of singular enthusiasts, bards and warriors, swarthy or red-haired, and alternately irascible or quiet.
Never in his life had Leif seen so many remarkably beautiful women as he did here. There were women with rich red hair, soft gleaming skins, quiet and inviting beings. They aroused his longing. There were also dark women, who were in themselves not less taking. Their pale skins and dark eyes filled Leif’s dreams. There were other dark women with golden skin, pliant and slender. There was abundance of women of all complexions, and nearly all were beautiful.
The Vikings were enthusiastic about them, but their enthusiasm was moderated by the fact that the women carried daggers hidden in their clothes, so that now and then there was only a step between love and death. Generally speaking, the Vikings were not unpopular among the Irish women. And not seldom an originally loose connection between a Norwegian chief and an Irish girl developed into marriage.
Besides these people, the Vikings in Ireland came across another type still more savage in manners and shape, with tattooed bodies. It was a matter for astonishment to see the contrast between the land and the people. The sworn brothers and Atle’s sons traded and ravaged far and wide in Ireland and the British Isles that summer. On the whole, they had had good luck, made good trade, taken much booty, and only lost few men. The last was especially due to Haasten’s wise moderation and always vigilant foresight.
Haasten had often since employed the stratagem, which had succeeded so well the first time, of sending Leif and Holmsten out on a foray with two of the smallest ships, while the rest of the fleet detained the land defenders at another spot. Holmsten and Leif both equally enjoyed these excursions. And as they always took the best men with them, their expeditions generally succeeded, and brought in rich booty.
Once, however, it had nearly gone hard with them. A Swedish Viking-fleet consisting of five well-manned ships came across them as they were rowing out of a bay, where their ships had lain while they made a foray on shore. The Swedes inspected them a little, and thought that they could make use both of the ships and of what might be found on board. So they hoisted their battle-flag and set after them. Leif and Holmsten were obliged to accept battle with the superior forces of the enemy. It was impossible to escape. They cleared their ships for the combat, determining not to surrender. But before the battle had begun, the other ships came rowing round a neighbouring promontory. Leif and Holmsten had been longer away than usual that time, and Haasten, and especially Ingolf, had at last become uneasy, and determined to go and look after them.
When the Swedes saw the other ships approaching, and perceived that they were many and large, they turned sharp round and rowed away as rapidly as possible, but the wind was slack and unreliable, and the Swedes were lucky to find a fog-bank, which they ran into and escaped. When this happened, the summer was already approaching its end. The Vikings had by that time sold all that they had brought with them from home, and were well provided with foreign goods of every kind. There was really nothing more to wait for.
The sea began to awake gradually from its summer lethargy. It was plainly shown by the ships’ movements that the waves were already aware of the approach of winter.
The ships were all heavily laden. And as they were warships they were not very well adapted for voyaging in the autumn. So the Vikings sailed home over the sea, the same way as they had come, under the colourless skies of late summer by day and the clear golden stars by night.
They had prosperous winds, and reached Norway about the time that the leaves were beginning to fall.
Leif was full of longing for Helga during the voyage home. He counted the days and could not sleep. It seemed to him suddenly that in the course of the summer she had come very close to him. Absence and separation had, as it were, intimately united them. His longing, however, was considerably mingled with fear—a fear without shape or distinct substance, yet none the less painful.
At Hisargavl, Atle’s sons took leave of Ingolf and Leif. They thanked each other for the summer they had spent together, arranged to meet there next summer, drank each other’s health in dark wine from glass goblets, and swore eternal friendship. Ingolf and Leif invited Atle’s sons to come to the feast the first day of the month of Goi, with as large a retinue as they liked to bring, and Atle’s sons promised to come. Holmsten, half-intoxicated, happened to mention Helga’s name, and Leif listened with all his ears. But for the rest he could make nothing out of Holmsten’s confused talk, except that he now knew that Helga was in his thoughts.
That evening Leif threw a spear overboard. So the sworn brothers and Atle’s sons parted, and each sailed home with the rich booty of the summer.