VI
For some days after the feast, which had been so abruptly broken off, Orn did not speak to any one. A cloud hung over his face. His look was like that of a mad bull. He ignored Ingolf entirely; and if Ingolf tried to talk to him, he paid no more attention to what he said than to a breath of wind. Even the blind Rodmar spoke in vain to his kinsman. To Rodmar it seemed that the world had become very strange. Did Orn not hear when he spoke to him? Had he become deaf, or perhaps dumb also? He gave up trying to make it out. He did not like trouble of any kind any more. There was always the resource of lying in bed and having wine brought. Rodmar retired deeper into his darkness and drank himself into a state of stupor and oblivion. When Orn had carried about his fit of wrath in solitude long enough, he began to get tired. Wrath also disturbed his intoxication. He did not find the same happiness in wine as before. He considered the matter closely, and found a new standpoint to view it from—a more manly and less troublesome one.
He sent for Ingolf. “I understand well,” he began in a harsh but not unfriendly tone, “that you do not wish to let yourself be cowed by Atle’s sons. I have considered the matter, and I must confess that it was a very challenging way that Holmsten chose in which to appear as a suitor. It was, however, impossible for him to know whether Helga had been already promised in marriage, and how far his vows might cross our plans. I think that the answer you gave him was good, and becoming a chieftain. We of our race can afford to marry our children to whom we like. We certainly do not need to trouble about marriage with Jarl’s sons. It has pleased me to see that you are not afraid to give even such people as Atle’s sons the rough side of your tongue. I do not deny that till lately it was my idea that a marriage connection with them would be an honour for our family. But now I see that it is no less honour for the family to refuse such a connection. That shows to all and each that we reckon ourselves at least equal to Jarls. You are wise, my boy. You may go.”
It was a long time since Orn had spoken so gently to his son. Ingolf went about the rest of the day smiling now and then to himself. He felt a great relief. His father’s attitude had pained him more than he had been willing to admit to himself.
After his conversation with Ingolf, Orn went to Rodmar, who was very glad to observe that he had not become dumb or deaf. A joyous time recommenced for the two kinsmen. They drank copiously of the red wine, and boasted more than ever. It became to them a source of much arrogance that hostility had broken out between their sons and Atle Jarl’s. They even took Leif into favour, and willingly listened to his account of his exploits in the Viking expedition of the previous summer. Leif was in their eyes still a little, loose-minded fellow, but at any rate a man. One could acknowledge him both as a son and a son-in-law. He had split various heads, and saved Holmsten’s life. There one had a proof that even the worst good-for-nothings could become something if only they had good folk to look up to.
Leif was ungracious enough to care for their praise no more than he had cared for their blame. But they behaved magnanimously to him in that respect. They excused him by recollecting youth’s general want of proper respect for age.
When spring approached, the old uneasiness came over Leif. He became very restless, and his eyes took an absent expression. One day he went down to the boat-houses and began to inspect his ships. As he did so, it suddenly came into his mind that during the last part of the winter Ingolf had not troubled himself at all about goods for the summer’s Viking expedition. It was not like Ingolf to forget a thing of that kind.
Without delay he sought Ingolf and began to speak on the subject. Ingolf stood and looked attentively at him while he spoke. When he had finished, Ingolf answered with composure: “It seems to me, Cousin Leif, that it would be better for us to remain at home in our house during the summer than to sail out on a Viking expedition. Do you remember the vows which were made here in the winter at the feast we gave to Atle’s sons?”
“The vows were not of the kind to be hastily forgotten,” answered Leif, and looked in his brother’s eyes. “You are, I suppose, not afraid of meeting Atle’s sons on the sea?”
“I am not afraid,” answered Ingolf, in a sharper tone; “but I would rather avoid hostility with Atle’s sons.”
Leif stood and looked down gloomily. When he had considered a little he said: “Atle’s sons could easily suppose that we were afraid if, after what happened here in the winter, we gave up the Viking expeditions we had planned for the summer. I do not intend to give Holmsten reason to call me afraid. Do you, brother, decide for yourself what you will do. I shall go.”
Ingolf was silent and considered the matter. He was in great perplexity. He hardly dared to let Leif go. On the other hand, he dared not hinder him either. He knew well that when Leif had once got restless he must get away. For himself, he did not like to run the risk of meeting Atle’s sons. He had a presentiment that a collision was inevitable if their way crossed that of his brother. And in any case he wished to avoid lifting hand against Haasten. But the reason which especially kept him at home was, that he no longer trusted Haersten and Holmsten. If both he and Leif went away, they might both use the opportunity to carry off Helga. On such an occasion both his father and Rodmar might easily lose their lives, or be exposed to indignities which he would have to avenge. When Ingolf had come to a conclusion, he said: “I do not wish as matters now stand to leave our family and property without someone to look after them. I will no longer prevent your going since you have set your mind upon it. But it will cause me great anxiety to know that you are out on a Viking expedition with only three ships. For I cannot spare more men away from home. You may encounter Atle’s sons, you may meet other hostile Vikings, or you may through want of foresight get involved in an unequal battle. I would rather, therefore, that you stayed at home, Cousin Leif. But if you will promise me not under any circumstances to engage in an unequal battle, as far as it is in your power to avoid it, I will not oppose your going.”
Leif promised that willingly. He never thought about promises. He grasped Ingolf’s outstretched hand and said: “I promise you to proceed cautiously. If I meet with danger or superior force, I will escape as well as I can. You need not be uneasy for my sake, brother.”
Ingolf remembered that Leif had kept his word with regard to Atle’s sons. There was no longer any reason not to put full trust in Leif’s promises, even if, in accordance with his whole character, they were given a little hastily, and apparently without thought. And if only Leif kept his promise, there was no special reason to be anxious about him. In a battle which was not too unequal, he was safe enough, unless the Norns had destined his death, or Odin had marked him out. For against the gods and goddesses of fate the best man fought in vain. When the matter had been thus decided, Leif began seriously to prepare for the journey. The goods which Ingolf had collected at the beginning of winter completely filled three ships. All that remained was to select the crews and to take care to keep the ships fit for sailing.
When Leif told Helga that he was going, she merely nodded assentingly and smiled at him. But her quivering smile concealed bitter grief and great anxiety. Helga knew Leif—ah! she knew him. This Leif of hers was a man whom no bond could hold. That was his character. And she did not wish to spoil his happiness by seeking to hold him fast. Never should he guess what she suffered when she saw him sail away. Never would she mention her sense of loss and the anxiety she suffered during the time she must be without him. Separation and longing were integral parts of the happiness she shared with Leif. So young Helga smiled bravely and helped Leif with his preparations for the journey, giving him cheerful words on the way. But she never showed him her anxiety, and concealed her grief till she was alone.
One day in spring, when the wind blew freshly over the fjord, Leif sailed away with three ships. He stood on the poop and wondered that he had never thought before how hard it would be to part from Helga.
His old countryman clapped him on the shoulder and said: “On a voyage it is best to keep the salt water outside the ship.”
Leif smiled with a wry face. His heart had not yet been hardened. Helga stood on the edge of the shore and saw the striped sails bellying in the breeze. The ships lay slanting on the water. They glided along as if in play, and became so quickly smaller.
Helga stood alone on the shore. All the others who had been down to bid farewell to those departing had gone back again to the house. Helga stood there alone with the breeze. Everything was green and cheerful around her. Trees stood covered with new leaves, and flowers grew again from the ground. And there sailed Leif, taking the summer away with him.
When Helga could not see the ships any more, she at last gave up. Helplessly she let herself drop down on the young grass. All power had suddenly left her. She could not even weep. She remained lying there long with her heart beating violently.
The day after Leif had sailed, Olmod the Old landed at Orn’s house. He had five ships, and was on a Viking expedition. He was able to inform Ingolf that of Atle’s sons Haasten was remaining at home that summer. He further said that he had heard that Leif was going alone that summer, and he wished to have joined him. When he heard that Leif had already sailed he hastened to go on, wishing to overtake him.
That spring came young King Harald sailing north along the coast. He had made a vow not to let his hair be cut till he had reduced the whole of Norway to submission, and was therefore by some called Harald Luva, and by others Harald Haarfager. Whatever part of the country he came across, he called his own. Kings and chiefs had to submit with a good or with a bad grace. All men from the lowest to the highest became his tributaries. He made laws, and appointed chiefs over districts to take care that the laws were obeyed. Harald met with no opposition either in the hills or the fjords. All the Jarls became his subjects.
But there were other chiefs who murmured, and considered that Harald paid scant respect to the law and ancient land-rights. These Harald dealt with hardly. He killed them when he could lay hold of them, and took from them their property without mercy. Many of these chiefs had no other resources, if they wished to preserve their lives and freedom, but to leave the country. They sailed in numbers for the Faroe Islands, the Orkneys, Hjaltland, the Southern Islands, together with the British Isles and Ireland.
King Harald found many a Norwegian neck that preferred to be broken rather than bend. Although himself the most obstinate of all, he would not endure obstinacy in others. There was but one King of Norway, and that King’s name was Harald!