Book III
I
Ingolf and Leif equipped themselves in great haste for their journey to seek the land which Raven-Floke had last visited, and which he had given the name of Iceland. They wished to be there as early in the year as possible, in order to be the better able to explore the distant and unknown island. Therefore there was no time to be lost. The first thing they did was to acquire a trading vessel, a strong sea-ship, in exchange for two of their smallest ships, which, in all probability, they would not want to use again. A trading vessel was just what they now needed. In the conflict they were proceeding to, there was no use for small, light battleships. Their new vessel was certainly neither little nor light. It was a regular ox to look at. High and broad, clumsy and solid, it lay, and the movements of the water only made it rock sluggishly. By the side of the long, slim, low-decked dragon-ships, it was seen to great disadvantage. Leif laughed at it, called it his rock and his old woman’s boat, said that it had a stomach like an old cow, and expressed his fixed opinion that it certainly cherished secret designs of going to the bottom at the first opportunity. But Leif did it great injustice. The vessel was good enough for its purpose, even if it was a little slow in turning and no beauty to look at.
It had a half-deck at prow and stern and a small side-deck along the gunwales. The rest of it was one large hold, in the midst of which towered a great, solid, strongly supported mast. It was exclusively built for the purpose of long trade-journeys, and therefore quite excellently suited for such an expedition in which the chief object was to convey as much as possible. There were but a few banks of oars fore and aft; one might as well try to row a rock over the sea. It was not adapted to be propelled by slender oars. The oars were only there to turn it and to facilitate going on shore. It was to sail, not to be rowed. Therefore it was entirely dependent on wind and weather. But, on the other hand, it took the wind and weather with a composure and immovability which came near to justifying its nickname of a “rock.” It only had one enemy—lack of wind.
It certainly did not dance on the billows like a dragon-ship. It was too contemptuous of the unstable element around it, whose humours it only yielded to when compelled, and then as little as possible. It entered into no brotherly alliance with the wind. That it took into its service and allowed to further its object.
Such was the new ship, inspiring confidence in a high degree and independent, both in form and behaviour—free from all kinds of levity. Storm and sea were its—certainly often somewhat wayward—servants, but not its masters.
Hallveig took an eager part in the loading of the vessel and in all preparations for the journey, and showed Ingolf in numberless little ways that she had no intention of remaining at home. When Ingolf was aware of it, it seemed to him that he had all along known that Hallveig was like that. And yet it gave his happiness an increased fullness and weight. Without inquiries of any kind, with a silent agreement, as though it were a matter of course, Hallveig prepared to follow him always and everywhere, to belong to him and to be near him.
For Helga, who already went about with a hidden foreboding of coming separation in her mind, the spring suddenly became really spring when she saw Hallveig’s preparations. If Hallveig could travel with them, so could she. Of herself, Helga would never have hit upon so bold an idea, though not from want of courage. Her courage and readiness to sacrifice herself where Leif was concerned were boundless. Her backwardness was from an inherited fear of causing trouble and being inconvenient, and a deep anxiety not to displease Leif in any thing great or small.
Helga wept for gladness when it was decided that she should also go with them. She did not often weep in the sight of others. Her weeping made Leif quiet and thoughtful. He guessed that he often, for the most part through thoughtlessness, caused Helga grief which she did not show. For some time his tenderness towards her knew no bounds, and Helga was happier than she had been for a long time.
Hallveig and Helga had been at first somewhat shy of each other. Helga was in her own way independent enough. She certainly had a will, and knew in every case what she wanted. But Hallveig’s whole resolute way of behaving and acting alarmed her a little. It took her some time to understand that Hallveig was far from being inconsiderate and selfish, that, on the contrary, she had a recklessness and warmth in her devotion which was apparent in each of her words and deeds in such a decisive way that to superficial observation it might look like want of consideration and self-will. Yes, in her devotion Hallveig was certainly reckless. Every one could easily see that she loved Ingolf and belonged to him with body and soul. The quiet and apparently cold Hallveig displayed a peculiar latent warmth and energy in all that she undertook. She did not lavish smiles and caresses; that was not her nature. No one had heard her speak tenderly or lovingly to Ingolf. But out of all her actions shone love and tender solicitude. An invisible fire burned around the apparently cold-natured woman.
When Helga first became convinced that she had at the beginning mistaken her sister-in-law and done her injustice in her heart, a specially warm devotion for Hallveig broke forth in her soul. And from the moment that Hallveig saw that the reserve Helga had hitherto displayed towards her had been a veil she had covered herself with in the presence of a stranger, she embraced her also with the latent warmth of her nature.
Hallveig showed Helga that outside the house also a woman may be a benefit and do good service. Even when it was a question of loading a ship for a long journey there were many things a woman could help and participate in. Hallveig, who was never at ease when Ingolf was occupied with the ship, from this time always took Helga with her when she went down to it. She had an amusing way of walking, Helga thought. She took long, resolute, manly strides, and her legs were obviously legs under her skirts. Helga found it difficult to follow her when she was in a hurry, as she almost always unconsciously was.
Hallveig examined even the smallest details that concerned the loading of the ship, with her husband and Leif, and did so in a matter-of-course tone which aroused Helga’s astonishment and admiration. In everything she said, Hallveig showed her practical sense. She did not hesitate either to give help where it was needed. Her help and advice were gladly welcomed. Her advice was advice and not child’s prattle. It was nearly always followed.
Hallveig had a peculiar rapid way of surveying matters. This was the best place for this, and for that. She demanded that everything which might be needed on the voyage should be as easily accessible as possible. Ingolf and Leif had never given a thought to that. They only thought of packing things so that they fitted in, took the least possible room, and were so distributed according to weight and size that the ship might lie on the water as level as possible. Now Hallveig showed them that with a little reflection all these objects might be excellently combined.
Hallveig’s and Helga’s presence and hearty participation in the work—for Helga also quickly began to use both eyes and hands—put Ingolf and Leif in high spirits, which helped them over many difficulties and trifling annoyances.
The vessel was loaded amid much merriment. Corn in chests, dried fish in great bundles, butter in small barrels, and boxes of dried flesh and salt meat, beer and wine in barrels—a whole year’s provision of food and drink—were brought on board and packed carefully in the great hold. But the vessel’s stomach had to find space for much more. Small compartments had to be made for the animals which were to be taken with them. A cow and a pair of goats; they could not be entirely without milk. There was also an ox to be slaughtered, and a bull-calf to be company for the cow through the winter and grow large and fat and ready to be slaughtered in the spring. A sow with small pigs was also useful to have with them, together with some sheep, and a couple of horses were simply indispensable.
And, at any rate, there was room for a hut for Hallveig and Helga. The hut was Hallveig’s idea. She did not wish only to be with them; she wished to live on board and to be comfortable. Leif jumped like a boy with delight when Hallveig put forward her proposal about the hut. From that day not even the smallest thing seemed to him quite right till Hallveig had expressed her satisfaction with it. He would rather have Hallveig’s help in counsel and action than that of most men, he declared decisively. And he was absolutely resolved to teach her to swing an ax and to hurl a spear. Hallveig did not often laugh, but she had to laugh sometimes at Leif. There was the same completeness and power in Hallveig’s laughter as in all the rest of her character and behaviour. When Hallveig laughed, there was something to laugh at. She could never be imagined laughing at any one or anything she did not like.
So these spring days passed. Liveliness and activity reigned everywhere. This journey to a foreign land, which at the beginning seemed so difficult to carry into effect, so improbable and unrealizable, became through all these preparations imminent and a matter of course for all those who took part in it. Here Ingolf now stood in the smithy and forged scythes to cut grass in a land which he had never seen and really only heard a tale about. Who was Naddod the Viking? Who was Gardar Svavarsson? Who was Raven-Floke? Or Thorolf Smor? Could one be sure they had not imagined that land over there? Or that others had imagined them and the whole affair? One might be foolish to believe it, but he was going to get a sight of it. And while Ingolf forged scythes to cut grass in that legendary land of the west, and made spades to dig in its soil, that fact became firmly fixed in his mind. In spite of all doubt, the land lay and actually existed over there in the sea. And, in fact, it became more than real to him. It lay there and spoke secretly to his soul; it waited for him almost like a friend. And thus it seemed at last to have a claim on him, which he could not disregard. For the land lay there and expected to be taken in possession, as is the right of every land. Such and similar thoughts filled Ingolf. And yet he did not guess that while he stood there in his smithy and forged scythes and prepared implements with which to till the new land’s soil, the land took him in possession by help of the secret power a land possesses—never again to let him go.
Ingolf and Leif had to prepare themselves to build winter dwellings and to store hay for their animals, therefore they took implements with them, without considering what power the earth and implements together have over a man’s soul. They did not guess that only homeless men wander their free ways, which are no ways, or rather that secret earth-powers guide all other steps.
Ingolf and Leif provided themselves with fishing-gear and nets for catching birds. They also took a pair of boats.
When the boat was loaded and everything else was in order for the journey, Ingolf concluded his preparations with a great sacrificial feast, at which he made abundant offerings to the gods, in order that they should grant him and his fellow-travellers good fortune and happiness on the voyage. Nevertheless, the days went by without the commencement of the hoped-for sailing weather.
These days of waiting were hard for Leif to bear. He became morose. Any kind of waiting was the worst thing Leif knew. It made his hasty and adventurous spirit full of discontent. He cursed the vessel, called it a wretched old woman’s bath, and invented even worse names for it.
Ingolf took the matter quietly. Certainly he had already made his offerings to the gods, and copiously. But it was a special voyage they were to make—the gods were to protect them, and on wide and strange ways. He therefore brought fresh offerings, and also secretly gave Odin and Njord private gifts, besides vowing yet greater ones if they would prosper his journey there and back and on the way. This expedient helped. There came a day with splendid sailing weather—a sunshiny day full of light and warm wind. Before midday all was ready—the animals brought on board, the crew in their places (Ingolf and Leif took only the smallest possible crew with them), and the vessel cleared for sailing. Under a heavily bellying sail it glided out between the skerries. Hallveig and Helga stood on the poop by their husbands and watched the shores glide past on either side. Hallveig was quiet in mind, and felt only glad at the fine day and the journey. Sea and land were all the same to her, if only she had Ingolf. Here they were sailing out to find a new land, to seek a new home. She was ready with all her soul to remain fixed in the spot on the earth which Ingolf might choose for them, no matter where it might be.
But with Helga it was otherwise. She was calm and quiet enough, but her calm was, as so often on other occasions, only outward. The strong scent of the pines from the spruce- and fir-clad islands they were sailing by, roused a profound longing in her soul. This was the place where she was at home. There in the house down there by the shore, which seen from the fjord here looked so strange. There seemed to be a sob in Helga’s soul. She, the faithful, had only one home. She did not at all wish to turn or to remain behind, for she stood here by Leif’s side. But she felt as though her heart were being split asunder and her soul divided. For this place which she now left, to return to it next spring only for a time, had shared with her happiness and solitude. There was hardly a stone in the house which she had not patted with her hand and made her confidant in joy or sorrow. She was bound to the house and the surroundings of her childhood with ties which could not be loosed or cut asunder. She knew with certainty that she would always feel strange and homeless outside Dalsfjord. She reproached herself for this feeling—for she had Leif—but she could not overcome it. All she could do was to vow to herself never to betray it. Thus Helga took a secret with the scent of the pine trees from the islands.