V
There was a chief and Viking named Olmod the Old, son of Horda-Kaare. He was a kinsman of Leif.
Olmod the Old was popular with all. He was a wise man, quiet and circumspect, a warrior in battle and a hero where drinking-horns were emptied. No one would have guessed that Olmod the Old concealed a great restlessness under the mask of quiet and imperturbability which he outwardly wore. He talked willingly, and had a flow of cheerful conversation, but was not lavish with his confidence. All thought that they knew his mind, but no one did.
Olmod the Old seldom remained long in one place. In the summer he went on Viking expeditions; in winter he was a guest in various places. He had many friends, and wherever he stayed he brought cheerfulness with him.
He was very fond of his kinsman, Leif, whose character resembled his own. It was a significant fact about Olmod that Leif was unaware that he possessed a friend in him. Leif would have been rather inclined to believe the opposite. Olmod seldom talked to him, gave him no presents, did not show him favour or friendship in any degree. But in secret Olmod kept an eye on his kinsman, Leif, and knew all about his affairs.
That winter Olmod visited Atle Jarl at Gaulum. In doing so he fulfilled an old promise. He knew that Leif and Ingolf had been on a Viking expedition with Atle’s sons the previous summer. It had suddenly occurred to him that he knew Atle’s sons too little.
During his visit to Gaulum, Olmod gave such close attention to Atle’s sons that he actually came to over-hear a conversation between Haersten and Holmsten which they did not intend him or any one else to hear.
“I hear that Helga and Leif are fond of each other,” said Haersten.
“That sounds hard to believe,” answered Holmsten.
“Women’s taste is often strange,” continued Haersten. “Did you see, also, brother, that Leif threw a spear overboard at Hisargavl?”
“Why did you not tell me that before?”
“Because it has only just occurred to me that Leif regretted the use he had once made of that spear.”
“With my good will I shall not give Leif reason to deprive himself of many more weapons,” said Holmsten gloomily. “It would be rather after my mind to take care that he finds full use for all his weapons.”
Olmod had heard enough. Now he knew what Leif’s friends were. Shortly after overhearing this conversation he departed. He directed his way towards Orn’s house, and was welcomed by Orn and the brothers. When he had stayed a week in the house, he prepared to go farther. Before doing so, he talked confidentially with Ingolf.
“Don’t take it ill if I mix in your affairs, Ingolf. I begin to get old, and old men are talkative. I only wish to remind you that Atle’s sons, whom you and Leif have invited to the feast this winter, are powerful chiefs, and that it will be advisable for you to show them all possible honour—among other things, by inviting as many of your kinsfolk and friends to the feast as you can.” Ingolf remained silent after Olmod had spoken. He looked attentively at him. Olmod met his look with a smile. His smile was quiet and experienced. Ingolf became suddenly aware that he had more than a guest in Olmod.
“You come from Gaulum,” he said in a low tone and thoughtfully. “Is that your advice?”
“That is my advice,” answered Olmod, with a firmness in his voice which left no doubt as to his seriousness. And he added, as though casually: “Haasten is only one of Atle’s sons.”
“Have you talked with Leif on this subject?” Ingolf asked suddenly.
Olmod the Old said only: “I know my kinsman, Leif. And I know you, too, Ingolf.”
Ingolf gave Olmod some handsome presents on his departure and escorted him part of the way.
On the first day of the month of Goi, Atle’s sons came with a large retinue to Orn’s house. Ingolf had followed Olmod the Old’s advice, and invited a large circle of his own and Leif’s friends to the feast for Atle’s sons. When Haasten saw how many were invited to the feast, he said to Ingolf, with a smile: “We sons of Atle are not accustomed to receive our friends with such a great force.” Ingolf looked at him and answered seriously: “One can never show one’s friends too great an honour, Haasten.”
Haasten became silent and thoughtful. Involuntarily he looked at his brothers. They stood there talking confidentially together. There was something in their bearing which made Haasten uneasy. He noticed also that Ingolf was watching his brothers. Haersten and Holmsten had withdrawn themselves from the rest, and stood whispering together.
“We have never been received in such a magnificent way here before,” said Haersten, with a smile. “There must be something behind it.”
“I should not be surprised,” answered Holmsten, “if Olmod the Old had been here. Where did he go to when he left us? It occurs to me all at once that his bearing was different when he left than when he came.”
“What can Olmod the Old have told any here?” asked Haersten thoughtfully.
“Something which he possibly heard,” replied Holmsten dryly.
“What will you do now, brother?”
“I don’t know yet. But some time Leif shall come to miss the spear which he threw overboard at Hisargavl!”
Orn became quite another man as soon as guests came to the house. He livened up and became young again. He did not gulp down his wine, but drank deep and was none the worse for it. He was still capable of filling the high-seat with dignity and of presiding over a festival.
Rodmar, on the other hand, preferred to remain in bed when anything unusual was going on. The restlessness which the sound of many voices produced in his state of blindness made him unwell. When he could not sit quite peacefully with Orn he liked best to be alone with his wine.
Orn beckoned Haasten to a place beside him on the high-seat. Outside it he seated the other sons of Atle and the sworn brothers, and then the remaining guests according to their age and rank. When the guests had taken their seats the hall was completely filled. Orn set great store by such feasts. He liked sitting as chief in his hall. He stinted neither food nor drink. It filled him with inward satisfaction to see people eat and drink and be merry.
He became cheerful and resumed something of his old dignity.
The fire burnt pleasantly on the flat stone of the hearth. When the guests at last were satisfied, the bowls and wooden dishes were carried out, and the real drinking festival began. The youngest and handsomest women in the house went about in festal attire and poured out beer. Among them was Helga. She served at the high table. Holmsten’s eyes followed her wherever she went and stood. He had never shown his liking for her so openly.
Helga could not help noticing his persistent gaze. It made her afraid. She would rather have remained away from the hall, but, on the other hand, she dared not leave Leif out of her sight. Leif sat with his mouth compressed and a gloomy expression in his eyes, and drank but little. That was not his usual way at a feast; he was accustomed to drink rather too much than too little. Only seldom did Helga succeed in catching his eye. He did not return her smile. She went to and fro in great alarm. She took care never to look at Holmsten, and she did not smile at him as at the others when she filled his horn.
Holmsten pretended not to notice it. His eye glowed with the same warmth, and his look followed her with the same persistence about the hall.
Orn proposed the toasts to the gods. He was still equal to emptying horns in their honour. When he proposed the toast of Brage, Holmsten rose and struck on his horn. “It is the custom of high-born men,” he said in a loud and cheerful voice, “to make vows when Brage’s toast is called. I have a vow to make which I will beg you kind friends to witness.”
Holmsten stopped and looked round him. He caught a warning and slightly anxious look from his brother, Haasten. He saw Leif’s bowed head and caught a glimpse of his serious face; he saw Ingolf’s face grow rigid with quiet expectation. And he saw Helga standing anxious and uncertain and looking at Leif.
Holmsten smiled. For a while he stood with his burning gaze fixed upon Helga, as though waiting to catch her eye. Then he lifted his horn and said in loud tones: “I make this vow with Brage’s toast, that I will marry Helga, daughter of Orn, or no other woman.” There was silence in the hall. Helga remained standing still for a while. She looked intently at Leif, and saw the blood mount to his face and his shaking fingers grip the foot of the horn. When she saw that he would succeed in controlling himself, she silently left the hall, her face very pale.
Haasten had sprung up from his place when Holmsten made his vow, but had sat down again without saying anything. Ingolf sat with a smile on his face but a look in his blue eyes that was as sharp as a knife. Orn smiled graciously at Holmsten, and Haersten laughed contentedly.
At last Leif looked up. There was a hard and hostile look in his usually cheerful eyes. He looked slowly round, and let his glance dwell for a while on each of Atle’s sons, and finally on his sworn brother, Ingolf, as if he were considering him especially. He looked almost as if he would not be sorry to encounter them all at once should that be necessary. To Orn he only vouchsafed a hasty and contemptuous glance.
Holmsten quite understood the effect his words had produced on each of those whom his speech concerned. He looked round with composure and continued cheerfully: “Now I have begun this game. Now it is your turn, friend Ingolf.”
Ingolf gave no sign of rising. He turned his face towards Haasten and said in a quiet and firm voice which was heard over the whole hall: “It seems to me it is now Haasten’s turn to continue the game. He is our leader, and the wisest of us all besides.”
Haasten met his look and rose slowly. He did not find words at first, and remained standing silent for a while, looking down. A hush of expectation spread in the hall. When Haasten at last spoke his voice was quiet and troubled. “I make the vow,” he said, “that I will judge justly and impartially, if a judgment should ever be demanded from me.”
Haasten sat down with a melancholy air after speaking. Holmsten said cheerfully: “Your obscure vow does not seem to me to bear out the assertion that you are the wisest of us all. How will you act, if it is between your friends on one side and your enemies on the other that you must pronounce judgment?”
Haasten answered in a severe and discouraging tone: “That I intend myself to determine.”
Ingolf rose. He smiled no longer; his look was serious and his tone firm and quiet. “With Brage’s toast I make the vow that I will not divide my inheritance with any one but my sworn brother, Leif. May all bright gods and all good people present hear it.” When Orn had heard that vow, he rose with some difficulty. Suddenly he seemed very old. The look which he cast at Ingolf was not friendly. In gloomy silence he left the hall.
Holmsten was still cheerful. “I don’t understand that vow,” he said, and laughed.
“It is not difficult to understand,” answered Haasten severely. “Ingolf will give his sister, Helga, to Leif, and no one else.”
Holmsten laughed incredulously, and looked at Leif in challenge.
Leif rose awkwardly with a jerk, and stood erect. “I make the vow,” he said in a voice that shook with suppressed anger and emotion, “to show that in nothing do I stand behind my ancestors and other good men of my race!”
“That may be an easy vow to keep,” shouted Haersten. “Have you forgotten that your grandfather had to leave Telemarken like a criminal?”
Leif met Ingolf’s look and controlled himself. Ingolf rose slowly. He was just as quiet as before, but those who knew him could see that now he was angry. He directed his words to Haasten. “When I invited you, Atle’s sons, to this feast, I believed that you were my own and my brother Leif’s sincere friends. From what has happened here this evening, and from the words which have fallen, I can see that I have made a mistake—not as far as concerns you, Haasten, but your brothers. Holmsten has done us a doubtful honour. His whole behaviour does not show exactly such an attitude towards us brothers that I should like to have him as a brother-in-law—even if no one else were in the way. As regards Haersten, he has spoken insulting words against my family here in the hall. You, Haasten, will always be welcome in the place which you now occupy as my guest and friend. But your brothers I cannot ask to remain. Only with my friends will I continue this feast.”
Haersten and Holmsten had sprung up from their places. Haasten also rose. “I had no share in, and could not prevent, what has happened this evening,” he said quietly, and in a tone of sadness, “otherwise it would not have happened. But I cannot remain here as your guest, Ingolf, when you send my brothers away. We, Atle’s sons, have always kept together.”
When he had spoken, he left the hall silently, followed by his brothers and all their retinue. But no one else followed them on the way.
When they had gone, Ingolf set guards on all the roads. He wished to be prepared, in case any more surprises awaited him on the part of Atle’s sons. It had become clear to him now that Haasten had no longer such complete power over his brothers as before.
Ingolf was depressed in spirits. That which he had long feared had happened at last. But this breach with Atle’s sons had come in another way than he had thought. He had expected that Leif would be a direct cause of it, not, as now appeared, an indirect one. Leif had surprised him by his self-controlling bearing. Now he knew he had a brother in Leif he could completely rely on. Ingolf guessed that it was not the first time that Leif for his sake had controlled himself in the presence of Atle’s sons. But, on the other hand, he could not betray Leif. He must stand by his side anywhere, and against any one—even against Haasten, if necessary. Ingolf observed, to his wonder, that he did not really miss Atle’s sons, now that he was confronted by a breach with them. He had Leif; he had on his side only one man. But that was a man he could rely upon, and knew that he could. Ingolf felt himself in some degree richer than before.