IV
Leif had gone riding on till he reached the wood, his mind full of wrath and defiance. There was not one reasonable thought in his brain; he had only the instinct to ride on. The motion cooled his irritation. It did him good to be out in this wild, chaotic expanse. There was a sense of freedom in casting away the yoke of reason, a relief in knowing that one was committed to something which had two sides and might mean life or death.
He would show Ingolf that though he himself did not know any path through the wood he was not afraid of riding there all the same. He would show him that if he wished to go the straight road home he would do so in spite of woods and other hindrances! He would show him that there was a difference between a man and an old woman in breeches!
The snowstorm beat against him from the side, and he had to turn his head so as not to have it directly in his ear, yet all the same he had to ride with his eyes half shut. But he gave no heed to the weather. A man who was intent on performing an exploit could not worry about a trifle! Thus, filled with exulting presumption, he approached the border of the wood and rode in among the whistling, crackling trees. Here he had to slacken his pace, and, as he did, it struck him all at once that there was a fair chance of his losing himself in the wood and never getting out again. But nothing could stop Leif when he had got up the speed for a piece of folly. Besides, it was part of his reason for not giving up his project that he was convinced that the worst turn he could do Ingolf was to ride through the wood. If he won through it, Ingolf would be mortified; if he got lost, Ingolf would be grieved. And Ingolf, sulky beast, deserved no mercy. How thoroughly he would look down on him if he happened to get home first! And if not, he knew well that Ingolf would not have a quiet hour till he saw him again. And serve him right.
Here in the outskirts of the wood Leif made such good progress that he already felt sure of getting home first. At the same time, he found room in his heart and mind for a certain anxiety regarding Ingolf. He hoped he would not be lost upon the heath where he had nothing to guide him.
Now that his fantastic assurance for himself had left room for anxiety for Ingolf, his wrath suddenly vanished. Should he not ride after Ingolf, try to overtake him, and convince him how much better it was to ride through the wood? But then Ingolf would only believe that he had turned round because he did not dare to ride through the wood alone, which was just what he was going to show him he could do.
His arms and legs came again into action. But the deeper Leif penetrated into the wood, the harder it became to make progress. The going was not so good here. The horse went on at an irregular pace. Leif had continually to turn because of low branches and fallen trunks. He had to go slowly and gradually, step by step.
Besides, it was not very comfortable here in the dense parts of the wood. Leif did not venture to startle his horse by shouting, though he was not really afraid. But all the sounds which he could not account for made him silent and alert. On all sides there was an uninterrupted whistling, creaking, and groaning. Snow fell from the branches with a thump. Hasty flappings of wings, which sent a chill through him, penetrated through all other sounds, producing a foreboding sense of vacuity and gloom. Besides, it was darker here than was pleasant. He could hardly discern the nearest tree-trunks. He wished he were out on the heath again and in Ingolf’s company. What had he wanted to go to the wood for?
Leif was not long in losing himself so completely that he thought it just as well to give up altogether aiming at any particular direction, and go on at haphazard. He felt it really a relief to be free from the trouble. The chief thing now was to sit on his horse and keep warm, which was beginning to be a difficulty.
But now Leif was in high spirits and proof against blows. He had prepared his mind for troubles and schooled himself to confront Fate. He had cast all responsibility from him far into space! Let any one who chose undertake it! He was riding here—that was all. Could his horse get on? Let happen what would!
He did not doubt for a moment that the matter would finally turn out well for him. He would get clear. How, he did not guess, neither did he trouble himself about it. He had reasonably or unreasonably come to the conclusion that he might just as well stop interfering. Yes, he would not venture to interfere. Suppose he turned off to the left now, and by doing so lost the right direction? No, he would not touch the bridle, but simply trust to luck. If he must pay the price for his rashness, he might just as well do it with the same coin. And if he got home in that way, the account would be settled.
Thus he rode for a long time, but not so long as he thought. He was checked in his progress, and therefore the time seemed more than doubled. He thought he got on faster than he actually did. At last he sat half asleep upon his horse, which he kept going by half-mechanical movements of his arms and legs. The horse went slower and slower. It had lost heart, and would rather have stood still, hung its head, turned its back to the storm, and let time and destiny roll over it. Leif did not agree with the horse in the matter. He himself sat there and let come what would. But something must be kept going, or there would be a complete full-stop. So the horse must continue.
But that was so contrary to the horse’s will that Leif at last had to shake off his drowsiness in order to keep the animal going. And, in spite of all, it only went step by step.
Leif was working again with his whole body. Nevertheless, he felt how the cold was tightening its clutch on his limbs and already threatening his stomach and chest. Leif was no fool. He clearly perceived that his life was in danger. In full consciousness he took up the struggle against weariness, which by its temptation to drowsiness sought to surprise him with sleep, that would be fatal in the frost.
Leif rallied himself with a firm resolve. That was not at all to his mind. He did not in the least intend to give up. Twelve years could not satisfy a hunger for life like his. He had much to do in the world. He was, for one thing, a good way yet from becoming a Viking and marrying Helga. Would the forest never come to an end?
At last it did. Leif went on riding and riding. And what did he see? Tracks of a horse which had been going through the snow. So he had then been riding in a circle. And where was he? That the wood only knew.
But now he would follow the tracks in the direction he had come from to see if he could break the circle and, if possible, find his way out of the wood.
Now it seemed to him the chief thing to find his way out, no matter where. That was for the present object enough. He resolutely avoided looking further in his thoughts. Unconsciously he armed himself against the tendency of thought to weaken the mind. He would not have his strength paralysed by too much reasoning. His business was simply to ride on and fight against the cold.
He had lost the track again. The horse became more and more unwilling to proceed. It only went on because it must.
Suddenly and unexpectedly he noticed that he was out of the wood. He saw no more tree-trunks. Here there were only whirling clouds of snow around him. His only resource was to go on. He kept riding to see whether he would not come across trees farther on. No, there were no more trees. And what was he to do now?
On which side of the wood was he? He rallied his reasoning power and reflected. Yes, he must be on the same side by which he had entered. The wind was due north—the direction he came from—there then was the north. So he had been very sagacious as far as looking went. He should only have been sharp enough to see when the wood ended, then he would have had the edge of the wood to guide himself by. Should he turn round and try to find the wood again? No, no, he might get among the trees. And he had lost all desire to ride to the wood. The horse had availed itself of Leif’s reflections to come to a stop. Without Leif having noticed it, it had turned its back to the storm, and simply stood still with its head drooping.
Leif sought to rouse it up and set it in motion again. Here there was no use in remaining at a standstill. But the horse had formed its own opinion of the whole expedition. It stood immovable, and intended to remain so. Leif expended much energy on its back, tugged at the reins, struck it with his whip-handle, since lashing seemed of no avail, but it was useless. The horse had had enough and more than enough. It stood, and intended to remain standing for an indefinite time. Leif jumped down and looked with astonishment in its eyes. What was the matter with the beast? Had it suddenly got fancies in its head? He pulled at the bridle, tried to tug the horse to one side, and made his whip whistle over it. The horse sighed a little at such a cruel and senseless proceeding. But it had once for all made up its mind to stay where it was. At that moment there was nothing that would make it budge an inch from the spot.
Leif looked helplessly around him. He could not understand the horse’s sudden predilection for precisely that spot of ground. Was there perhaps something to guide them? Completely exhausted it could not be, as there was still so much refractoriness in it.
So he tried to treat it kindly. He talked gently to it, patted it, and scratched it behind the ears. He overwhelmed it with flattery, and sang to it in a high-pitched voice. Then he clambered with some trouble on its back again, and hoped that it had now changed its mind. But it had not done so by any means. Leif began to get angry, but he patted its neck and kept a friendly tone. Since this still proved useless he uttered a wild howl with all his might, and threw his arms, legs, and whole body into motion. At last he was nearly crying with vexation. Then he tried it again with friendliness and kind words, but it was all of no avail.
So he gave it up. The horse evidently would not go farther. And since he could neither compel nor persuade it, there was nothing to be done with the creature.
He slipped from its back and tried to review the situation. On nearer inspection it seemed to be just as threatening and impenetrable as the snow-clouds round him. As he stood there the wind lashed his face and pierced icily cold through his clothes. He perceived clearly the danger of the situation. If the cold and his weariness made him yield a little, it was all over with him.
It was no use to let the horse stand and go on with his own strength. The energies he had still in reserve were in no reasonable proportion to the storm and the length of the way. It was only a little strength and endurance which he had remaining. But it was that little which was to rescue him. He kept his hands tightly clenched together as if it were a matter of extracting some device by purely physical pressure from his oozing energies. He intensified his thoughts till he seemed to hear them beating in his skull. But it was as though all possibilities had conspired against him and forsaken him.
He stood and set his back against the wind, and sought to combat a creeping foreboding that there was no way of escape. He knew that once he gave up it was all over with him. So long as he could keep erect and resolute there was still hope.
His thoughts forsook the beaten paths and travelled in the labyrinths of imagination, seeking a last possibility. A picture came up in his memory. He remembered a Yuletide sacrificial feast at home... the penetrating odour of blood and entrails... the warm, gaping hollow of an ox’s body emptied of its viscera. Before he had yet time to connect thought with action, his knife was out. He took the bridle off the horse, with feverish fingers sought a certain spot in its neck, waited a moment while he overcame his repugnance, and then made a thrust. With a groan the horse collapsed on its knees. Leif rolled it over on one side, and so it remained, lying with stiff, struggling legs, now and then shaken by a faint shudder. Leif made a cut in its neck, so that he could, when possible, extract the windpipe and gullet. A warm stream of blood spouted straight into his eyes and blinded him till he had again rubbed them clean. And now the intoxication of blood overcame him. He had the scent of it in his nostrils and the taste of it on his tongue. With a single long cut from the fore to the hinder-part he slit open its stomach. The warm, smoking entrails bulged out of the streaming gash. Leif snatched them out with his hands, but had to stop, because the heat nearly scalded him—shook his hands like a cat its paws—and set to work again. In a very short time he had cleared the animal’s stomach of all the entrails, with a round cut of his knife he loosened the diaphragm, extracted the lungs with the grey windpipe adhering to them from the breast, and threw them away. Then at last, with trembling fingers, he sheathed his knife, heaved a long sigh, and crawled head-first into the horse’s empty stomach. He coiled himself together like an animal, audibly growling with the sense of comfort and the prospect of secure rest. But however he turned and twisted himself, he could not find room for his legs. So he crawled rather crossly out again, stripped off his cloak, wound it several times round his feet and legs above his knees, to preserve them from being frostbitten, and crept in again. He enjoyed the delightful warmth inside. Now it would do him real good to have his rest out and sleep. With a light and untroubled heart he lay down comfortably. Sleep—sleep. When he awoke again, the snowstorm would doubtless be over. He chuckled inwardly; he would simply stay here till it was quite finished! If it still lasted long he could easily live on frozen horse-flesh. He had still a conviction that he would not die that day. Nonsense! Here he lay, and liked it. The future seemed bright and cheerful to his inner eye. He wondered whether Ingolf would be home by now? In his fulness of satisfaction and quiet he allowed himself to hope so. A little after he was sleeping a sound, untroubled sleep.