VIII
It was really a surprise to Ingolf when he heard from his brother what had happened at Hisargavl. He had gradually come to fear a collision between Leif and Atle’s sons. He did not trust Atle’s sons any more since the feast of the previous winter. With a gloomy and slightly absent expression he heard Leif’s account to the end. “I do not grieve for Holmsten,” he said severely, when Leif finished. “I am glad that both brothers did not escape alive from the game. The Norns often strike accurately.”
“It was by my ax that Holmsten fell,” Leif answered curtly. “I will not share the honour of having slain him with any one, not even with the Norns!”
Ingolf smiled, but there was no laughter in his mind.
“The most important point, Leif, is that you returned home alive,” he said cordially. “Thank yourself for it, but allow me to thank the gods and goddesses of fate.”
Helga was very quiet when Leif told her about the battle. There rose in her soul a yet greater tenderness towards him. Every day, yes, every hour, with Leif became precious. A foreboding told her that Leif was scarcely destined to live long. Her happiness was like the flying birds.
Orn became quite enlivened by hearing of the fight at Hisargavl. Ingolf related it to him with much detail. As soon as he had finished, Orn demanded to have the whole told over again. It was entirely after his mind—a proof that the race was not extinct. He put many questions and asked for incidents. Time after time, when the talk concerned Leif, he nodded approvingly. When his curiosity was at last satisfied, he sat silent and thoughtful, and still kept nodding to himself.
Rodmar sat in his darkness and heard the account through at one sitting. When Ingolf began again, he sighed deeply, rose, and, supported on his two sticks, tottered to his chamber and crept into bed. He could not understand that there was still so much disturbance in the world.
When Ingolf came out again from his father he was silent and thoughtful. He sought Leif, and found him in Helga’s room. Ingolf sat down silently by his side and remained for a while without speaking. “Now Haasten remains behind with one arm,” he said at last, in a subdued tone, more as though speaking to himself than to the others.
Helga looked hastily at him. “One must feel a great longing after a brother one loves,” she said quietly.
Leif laughed sarcastically. “It will scarcely be a one-armed Haasten who comes out to take vengeance for Holmsten.”
Ingolf looked at him. There was a troubled, but firm and quiet, look in his eye. “I should be surprised if Haasten took vengeance,” Leif laughed scornfully. Ingolf rose quietly and said: “But it would be best to be on our guard against Haersten.”
Ingolf took home to the chief house as many of his own and Leif’s men as could be spared from the rest of their property. Moreover, he collected his friends from the surrounding district. He always had many people round him in the winter. He set guards on all the roads to secure himself against an unexpected attack, and for the rest watched events quietly.
What had happened, had happened, and could not be altered. And whose fault was it? Neither his nor his sworn brother’s, it seemed to him. He made offerings to Odin and Thor, and relied on them and on the good luck of the family.
Already, on the day after his arrival, Leif had to go to bed. For a considerable time he had to keep quiet. He suffered a good deal from his wounds. They were on various parts of his body, so that it was difficult for him to find rest.
Leif was not good at keeping quiet. He was tormented by an intolerable impatience. Time after time when his wounds were on the point of healing up they opened again, because of his want of care. The fever which accompanied the wounds had a wearing effect both on his flesh and his temper. He became even more bony and thin than he had been before. Long and wasted he lay there in bed, and vexed himself over the loss of the days, of which he was unjustly deprived.
Helga nursed him patiently, and always sat by him. That was the only thing which reconciled him with this kind of existence. He could not look away from her even for a moment. Leif discovered that there was a happiness and soothing effect in the touch of Helga’s hands, which he had not hitherto known. All the time he had to have her hands busy about him. Leif was not easy to manage. In vain did Helga beg and pray him to leave the bandages alone and not continually look at his wounds at the wrong time. At last she went in despair to Ingolf, and Ingolf found a means. On the same day that Helga had spoken to him, he said to Leif in his usual composed manner: “Your wounds are a long time healing, Cousin Leif. You will hardly be fit for fighting by the time Haersten attacks us.” That was effectual. Ingolf knew his brother. From that day Leif lay rigidly still and did not touch the bandages. With a mighty effort he kept his mind in control and curbed his impatience. With a mysterious smile in her eyes, which Leif could not understand, Helga continued to nurse him. Leif could not make out why her eyes had suddenly become so bright. Here he lay, tortured both outwardly and inwardly. One would think that was nothing to be amused at. At last he asked her plainly, and in a rather morose tone, why she was so cheerful. Helga laughed, and promised to tell him as soon as his wounds were healed; for now that could hardly be long. Leif sighed. It seemed to him that already the time had been incomprehensively long.
At last the day came when Leif could go about on his legs again. But it was plain that he had quite got out of the habit of going with his head high and his legs down. His head was not so high aloft, and his legs tottered. He had to laugh at them. They were really silly legs—to speak plainly—miserable legs of dough. He went about laughing and waddling, and was obliged every minute to sit down and rest his legs. He had never guessed that such a simple thing as walking could become so difficult.
But one day it was difficult no longer, and Leif rapidly forgot both his sickness and his weakness.
What was Haersten about? It seemed to Leif plain that he had a claim that Haersten should come now, and quickly. Now that he was in a condition to receive him in a suitable manner, he began to long for him deeply.
Leif went and exercised his arm-muscles by cutting logs for the fire. Ah! So he intended to split Haersten’s head. But Haersten still kept them waiting. It was not according to Leif’s mind to go and wait for an attack, which did not come. Had he had sufficient hope that Ingolf would go with him on a journey to Gaulum he would have proposed it. In his leisure time Leif imagined for himself an attack on Atle Jarl and his sons, picturing it down to the minutest details. He would himself strike down Haersten and Atle Jarl. But he would prefer to let Haasten escape with his life. It was a shame that such a splendid plan of attack should always be shipwrecked on Ingolf’s obstinacy.
At last Haersten came. It was lucky that Ingolf had set guards upon the roads. Haersten did not come alone. He had planned his attack with care. He wished to wait till the brothers perhaps might not be so much on the alert. And he wished to come with a picked and numerous band, which it took time to assemble secretly, as the sworn brothers had friends also in those parts. Haersten had resolved that one life was too little compensation for Holmsten. They should both die. Preferably he would strike them both to earth with his own hand.
Haersten had to do without Haasten’s help in planning and carrying out his attack. On the other hand, Haasten did not put difficulties in his way. Haasten gave his mind to taking what vengeance he could, and to the extent he was able. “But my mind and my sense of justice tell me,” he said, “not to go with you against the sworn brothers.”
Haersten asked him whether his mind and his sense of justice did not also bid him to leave both his brothers unavenged in case he also should fall. Haasten answered him that time would show, but that it was conceivable.
“It might seem that you care more for Ingolf than for your own brothers,” Haersten said coldly.
“I have a great regard for Ingolf,” answered Haasten. “You brothers were not afraid to profit by your greater force when you attacked Leif.”
So the conversation ended. When Haersten had quietly collected as many men as he thought would ensure a victory over the sworn brothers, even if he found them prepared, he started one night and took the way to Dalsfjord. He advanced by secret paths, and hid in the woods. He marched only by night, resting by day. But though he showed all possible caution, Ingolf’s guards got news of his expedition. They were able to inform Ingolf in time that Haersten was approaching with a numerous following. In great haste the brothers collected a still larger number, and marched against him to meet him before he expected it. The encounter took place one winter morning on the heath. Haersten and his men had spent the night on the outskirts of the wood. It was a still morning, with mild air, and the ground was heavy. The weather was admirably adapted for a battle, save that the snow became slippery when it had been trodden hard. Haersten and the sworn brothers prepared themselves, each on his own side, for a trial of strength, in all quietness and at their leisure. The result of the battle was of great importance to both parties, and they urged their men to be cautious and keep together.
Haersten seemed to seek Leif. And Leif was not the man to avoid a willing opponent. It was not long before they stood opposite each other, both fierce and vigilantly watching. But the fight between them was of short duration. They had only exchanged a few blows, and neither of them had yet been wounded, when Haersten slipped on the smooth ground. In the same instant Leif’s ax descended on his neck. Haersten fell and remained lying. Red blood streamed profusely out of a deep wound in his neck. Smoking, it oozed into the cold white snow and formed holes with reddish edges. Thus fell Haersten.
When he had fallen, Ingolf had the trumpet blown for a truce, and invited Haersten’s followers to go in peace. As no one wished for more fighting, Haersten’s men marched, carrying his body, from their unsuccessful attempt, back to Gaulum.
Leif was quite jubilant. He never remembered having been so glad. Now he had avenged the attack at Hisargavl, and settled all the rest of the account which he had with Atle’s sons. There was a high degree of intoxication in his mind. He composed and sang with a strong voice a victor’s song.
But Ingolf did not show any joy at the victory. He was silent and thoughtful. As soon as he had returned home with his men, he went to his father and told him of Haersten’s fall. “It will not be in the neck of Atle’s sons alone that Leif’s ax has struck wounds,” screamed Orn, with his heavy cutting voice, when he had heard Ingolf to the end. “Trust me! It is all over with our peace in Dalsfjord. Even though we have many friends, Atle Jarl and Haasten will in the long run prove too strong for us. Make peace with Haasten, my son, before it is too late. For old friendship’s sake he will be satisfied with taking your property and driving you away from this district. I am too old, I know, to leave Dalsfjord myself. But don’t you trouble about that. I am full of days, and will die soon. I had a foreboding that Leif would cause misfortune. But he is a plucky fellow. And what has happened has happened. Let me see him.”
It had never been the case before that Orn had wished to see Leif. Once the sight of Leif had been to him a plague and an unceasing source of annoyance. Now he wished to see him. Leif was called, and willingly let himself be inspected by Orn’s red, inflamed, swollen eyes. His spirits were so cheerful that he felt impelled to show himself friendly even towards Orn.
“Your appearance does not answer to your exploits,” Orn exclaimed. “You are rather slight in body to be a warrior. But, at any rate, I will give you Helga since she wants you. Take her and marry her, but do it quickly. For I will gladly drink your health at your marriage before I die. And I shall die soon.”
Leif smiled and thanked him and was very friendly. It amused him to think that the permission was really rather superfluous. But that day he did not wish for any trouble. Haersten’s death made him feel so prosperous and benevolent.
Ingolf had all day long been meditating. In the evening he asked Leif to speak with him in private.
“What do you think of sending messengers to Haasten and offering him an agreement on terms to be fixed by himself?” he asked quietly.
“That seems to me to be unnecessary weakness to submit the matter to Haasten’s decision alone,” answered Leif arrogantly. “If he wishes to pay us a call we shall know how to receive him.”
“You forget, brother,” said Ingolf calmly, but in a troubled voice, “that only in the utmost extremity can I use weapons against Haasten. You have deprived him of both his brothers. Even apart from the manner in which it happened it is a great loss for him. I, for my own part, will gladly purchase peace with Haasten at the price which he agrees upon.”
The tone of Ingolf’s voice moved Leif to the heart. “If you, for your part, wish to submit to Haasten’s decision, I dare say I can consent,” he said, in a compliant tone. “Hitherto I have not lost by letting you decide matters.”
Ingolf chose the men whom he considered best suited for such a mission, and bade them go to Gaulum and offer Haasten terms. Haasten received Ingolf’s envoys silently, and without returning their salutations. They had, however, been his companions on a summer Viking expedition, and several of them had been his friends. They did not know Haasten again. He had aged, and all signs of youthfulness had been obliterated from his face. Though his skin was still soft and smooth it was deeply furrowed. His look was cold and solitary. When he had heard the object of their errand, he said in an icy tone: “I will answer some day. Meanwhile I offer you shelter and food.”
Haasten let them wait a whole week for an answer. He had a hard battle to fight first with his father and then with himself. Atle Jarl would at first hear nothing about an agreement. He demanded unconditionally, although coldly and without passion, the lives of the sworn brothers. He blamed Haasten for what had happened, because he had at the time refused to follow his advice and offer Ingolf and Leif blood-brotherhood. Haasten did not answer at length. But he did not give up till Atle Jarl agreed to lay the matter in his hand. When Haasten had thus become solely responsible, he had a hard battle to fight with himself. His family instinct demanded blood and not compensation. Even multiplied weregeld could not compensate him for the loss of his brothers. But could Leif’s and Ingolf’s lives do it either? The fact was that nothing could compensate for the loss of his brothers. But large fines might sustain the outward honour of the family. To bear weapons against Ingolf, who had not committed any crime, was in itself unthinkable. Besides, Haasten remembered his vow to decide impartially if at any time a decision should be demanded from him.
When he had at last arrived at unity with himself he bade Ingolf’s messengers be called, and spoke as follows: “The sworn brothers have desired me to judge between them and myself. My judgment is this. No compensation shall be asked for Holmsten because of his unjustified attack on Leif. But as compensation for Haersten, who went to take righteous vengeance for his brother, and by doing so lost his life at Leif’s hand, I adjudge to myself all the sworn brothers’ real property. Before three winters have passed they shall have left all their land and territory and fjords and hills. Otherwise they will be treated as outlaws wherever they may be found in the district.”
The messengers went home and informed the brothers of Haasten’s sentence. When Ingolf had heard it, he said quietly: “That was to be expected.”
Leif, on the other hand, was furious. He never remembered to have heard of such an unreasonable sentence. Ingolf bade him take the matter quietly. “The sentence is certainly hard,” he said, “but Haasten’s loss is harder. I would not willingly change my circumstances with his.”
All bitterness against Haasten vanished comparatively quickly from Leif’s mind. The question, where they should now go and settle, absorbed him, all at once, so completely that he had no thoughts to spare for anything else. Leif was glad enough to go and settle in a new country. One day he wished to go to England. Another day Ireland had suddenly assumed a great attraction for him. The Faroe Islands, Hjaltland, the Southern Islands—at least once a day in his thoughts he settled in all these. All at once the idea of Iceland occurred to him; strange to think that he had not come upon it at once.
Making a leap in the air, he went there in his own thoughts and settled in a strange land, and so sought Ingolf in hot haste. “We will go to Iceland!” he shouted in his delight, and was already absorbed, body and soul, in his idea. “There we shall have a whole country to ourselves.”
“Is it not somewhat lonely?” asked Ingolf, smiling.
Leif thought over that, and conceded that in the long run it might be rather lonely. “But you will see many will follow after us. Many in Norway are discontented with Harald, who will not tolerate any will by the side of his own. The best people will follow us thither—people who can no more find complete freedom in this country. Harald is already seeking to kill many of the best men. There his arm cannot reach them. Sooner or later the land will be colonized; it is said to be fertile. Let us be the first. Ingolf, do you hear, let us be the first.”
There was something in Leif’s plan which attracted Ingolf. If he had to depart and find himself a new dwelling, why not seek it in a new country? Ingolf the Imperturbable felt his heart beat.
Leif was all fire and flame, and consequently not to be resisted. At last Ingolf yielded. “We can journey there in the summer and survey the country,” he said.
When Leif had got Ingolf so far, he became wild with joy and dangerous to approach. Ingolf had to wrestle with him; there was no getting out of it. A little after they were both lying in the soft snow. When the wrestle was thus over, they began to pile snow on each other, till they had to stop for laughing. The boy was uppermost in each of them. They were happy, and forgot to be troubled and anxious at the loss of their property. Blood and life surged through them. They could still fight as in the old days.