Read Ebook: The Sworn Brothers: A Tale of the Early Days of Iceland by Gunnarsson Gunnar Emm W Translator Field Claud Translator

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Ebook has 944 lines and 78086 words, and 19 pages

ed smile was very charming.

They had forgotten the apples. Now they were produced, and helped them over the slight embarrassment which followed on their extreme seriousness. Gradually Leif and Helga talked fluently. Ingolf, on the other hand, did not say much. He sat and took a secret oath that henceforth he would be a man, and no overhastiness of temper should master him. Nothing should by any means divide him from Leif or Helga. Now he and Leif were actually brothers, and Leif and Helga would hold by each other, he knew. Seldom had he felt so happy as at this moment. Quite unconsciously he sat and enjoyed his sense of strength and quiet. He continued so to sit till Helga roused him with a question. Thus they talked easily and enjoyed being together. When they separated, they had agreed that the solemn ceremony of initiation into blood-brotherhood should take place in the spring at the great festival which was to be held at the chief temple at Gaulum.

Orn and Rodmar were able to make the winter pass. They sat most days and every evening on the high-seat, drank beer, and enjoyed each other's society.

From the north came rumours of disturbance. There was still peace and no danger in Dalsfjord and its neighbourhood. But it was best to be prepared for everything.

Now that Halvdan the Black was dead, and his son, Harald, made King, though but ten years old, there were several kings and chiefs who suddenly conceived a desire for the kingdom which Halvdan the Black had established. It was rumoured that Harald and his uncle, Guttorm, who was to be regent during the two years remaining of Harald's minority, had already gone out to meet the disturbers of peace.

When Orn and Rodmar heard of it, they remembered the exploits of their youth. The latter had not lost anything by being related through many years. Listeners obtained the impression that Orn and Rodmar had been present at the most important events of the world, and decided their issue. And it was not only men whom they had encountered. They had met evil and hidden powers in manifold forms. And here they sat after all.

Orn and Rodmar were reasonable men, who spoke in moderation. When one had spoken, he gladly let the other have his turn. And while the one who was silent played the part of an attentive hearer, his look became absent, he thought of fresh exploits, brought them forth, and arranged them in his mind. Then when the other at last was silent he was fully prepared. But first he nodded courteously and said, "Yes! Yes!" very thoughtfully, and still kept silence for a moment to show that he had been following. Then all at once he became an active narrator. "But now here!"

The servants in the hall were amused, but not in any unbecoming way. They winked at each other when the old men did not see it. They did not grudge the old men their reminiscences, and partly believed them. But they were amused.

And Orn and Rodmar showed a startling faculty at their age in discovering how to outdo each other's tales.

When they had bragged their best, they went to the temple and offered their fattest animals to the gods, feasted in their honour, and gave them gifts. They did not feel quite sure whether the gods allowed so much pride. And one should not offend the gods, but keep on good terms with them.

Thus the days passed for Orn and Rodmar. They grew old, sitting in the high-seat and drinking beer. They drank much beer.

One morning, shortly after Ingolf had offered Leif blood-brotherhood, they went to their fathers to tell them, and ask their permission for the ceremony to take place at the feast at Gaulum the first day of summer.

Leif found his father in bed. When he had spoken, Rodmar praised his luck in strong language, added that he had always had better fortune than he deserved, further remarked that on the rare occasions that he caused his father joy it was always without any merit of his own, and bade him go his way and leave him, Rodmar, to his beer.

Orn was sitting in the high-seat, slaking his morning thirst, when Ingolf came before him and asked permission to speak. Orn granted it with a nod of his white-haired head. The slightly absent look did not disappear from his face; he listened without moving to what his son had to say. When Ingolf had spoken, Orn remained sitting silent. Ingolf was not sure whether he had heard what he had said or not. It was easy to see that he sat in deep reflection. Ingolf remained standing for a time, waiting for an answer. When he saw that it was in vain, and that his father had probably forgotten that he stood there, he silently departed.

Orn did not touch his drinking-horn again that day. He busied himself with his thoughts, and was taciturn. Long before his usual time he sought his couch. Early next morning he summoned Ingolf curtly and bade him follow him. He led him to an outhouse where the tools of the house were kept, and bolted the door carefully. Then he took his seat on a chopping-block in the middle of the floor and sat silent. Ingolf stood before him, awaiting what he had to say, and carefully restraining his impatience.

"Sit down," said Orn at last thoughtfully.

Ingolf sat down on some lumber which had been piled up against the main wall. So they remained sitting a considerable time. Orn was long in commencing. "You have told me," he began at last, speaking very slowly and, with constant pauses, "that you intend to enter into blood-brotherhood with your cousin, Leif. I must presume that you are acquainted with duties of blood-brotherhood, and have carefully considered the matter, and also that you have not let yourself be surprised into talking rash vows, or have followed your feelings alone without consulting your understanding. I will not disguise from you that I could have wished a better brother for you in this. And I leave it to your discretion whether the circle of your brotherhood should not be extended so as also to include Atle Jarl's sons. On many grounds I have been led to understand that these young men, especially Haasten, would not be unwilling to exchange the bond of friendship for that of brotherhood. It needs but a word on your part, perhaps only a hint. My opinion is that you would stand stronger alone than with Leif as your sworn brother. You ought to be intelligent enough yourself to perceive that. But the three would balance Leif, and more than that. You would stand stronger afterwards, especially if another tie subsequently should unite us to Atle's sons, which I do not regard as impossible. For the rest, Leif is certainly our kinsman. We should therefore look after him, and perhaps he is best bound in that way. I do not wish to say more about the matter."

Orn was silent for a long time. Presently he resumed. "I feel I am growing old. The days depart and do not return to me. They seem, as it were, to go a very little way, and there is nothing to hold fast to in them; they slip through my hands."

He coughed, reflected, and began again. "Therefore I have considered that perhaps it would be best if I were to make over to you our property to manage. It will be good for you to be early accustomed to command people and to bear responsibility. And you are certainly a child no longer. I will therefore gladly see, before I die, how you prosper when you manage by yourself. For the rest, I leave matters without anxiety to you, and I shall be at hand, and can be useful. I will also advise Rodmar to do the same for Leif. Your task will certainly be increased by that, for you will have to look after your kinsman, at any rate at first. But since you wish to enter into brotherhood with him, you must bear the consequences. There is no more to be said about it at present. We must have time to prepare the matter, and can return to it later. There was also another thing I wished to speak to you about today."

Orn was silent and reflected. Then he commenced again hesitatingly, not without a certain embarrassment. "I often heard in her time your mother speaking with you. It is now long since, and you were little at the time. Probably you have forgotten some of what she said. But I have noticed that you have remembered part of it--perhaps you remember every word. I have never spoken to you of your mother. You have never given occasion for it, and one should not talk too much. When one talks too much, words easily become mere wind. Therefore I have never hitherto spoken with you about something, of which, however, I wish to speak with you--not because I believe it necessary--perhaps you are already as clear on the matter as myself--but because I want you to remember that I have spoken to you. The fact that I cannot well postpone it has also determined me to speak now.

"You know that Odin and Thor are especially my gods. They have been the gods of our family as far back as tradition goes, and I want you, like your forefathers, to hold them especially in honour. If you do that, it will go well with you. For wisdom and strength are the two things a man must have. If he has them, he has honour too, in Valhalla as well as here upon earth. Goods and gold, power over men, and great possessions are good things, which you should strive to acquire, and hold fast when you have them. But all those things can, in case of need, be dispensed with. Honour is the one indispensable thing, because, after all, it is the only thing that uplifts a man, and the only thing that survives him on earth, when he is dead and done with. And because honour can be lost during a man's lifetime, a dead man with honour preserved is happier than the man who is still alive, and whose honour is exposed to peril. It is not necessary to impress upon you anything else than that; when your honour is concerned, you must be prepared to stake your life. The memory of a man outlives him. And honour casts a glory over a man's memory, just as dishonour casts a shadow. No man in our family has a shadow on his memory. This is the most important thing which I wish to say to you. But if you have the patience to hear me, I have something more to say. And that is this. You shall respect your land's law and justice, for as long as you have not renounced its law, you are bound by it, and dishonour yourself by breaking it. You shall not stir up unnecessary quarrels, but avoid disunion and strife, as long as your honour is not injured. Peace in the land produces fruitful fields. But if you have a lawful vengeance to inflict, do so with a heavy hand, as behoves one born to such a place as yours. But be always ready for reconciliation when it is offered sincerely. An honourable reconciliation is preferable to a victory which may carry in it the seed of future defeat.

"And never break a treaty, for only a wretch ignores his vows, only a traitor breaks his word. A brave man is prepared to support his least word with his life, thereby the high-born are recognized. The churl, on the other hand, regards his word as nothing more than the breath of his mouth. His tongue shall be eaten of snakes, and his evil memory will ride his soul like a nightmare for ever."

Orn had become excited. Then he was silent, composed himself again, meditated, and was still.

When he had finished meditating, he rose solemnly and drew from his arm a heavy gold bracelet graven with runes and signs. Ingolf sprang up when his father rose, and remained standing before him with bowed head, and his bright face slightly flushed.

Orn spoke: "This bracelet has for a long time belonged to our race, and has always been an heirloom in the head branch of the family. Some of those who bore it have worn it till their death. Others have transferred it to the future wearer when they found that their time was near. My son, I am growing old, and it is no use to deny it or to hide it. Forgetfulness is getting more and more the mastery over me. Reach me your hand."

Ingolf stretched out his right hand, and raised his head. There was a moist glimmer in his eyes. Deeply moved, Orn drew the bracelet on his arm. "Now you wear the ring."

Ingolf fell on his knees before the old man, and Orn made the sign of the Hammer over his head, and said quietly: "Odin give you wisdom, and Thor strength. Frey make your land fruitful, and Njord guide your seafaring! All the bright Ases help thee! Rise, my son."

Ingolf rose silently. Orn laid his hands on his shoulders, looked for a moment closely at him, and let him go. They went out into the courtyard of the house. For a while they stood there silent, side by side, and looked out over the landscape where the snow-covered mountains rose and the valleys sank. Ingolf saw everything, as it were, with new eyes. The fjord was such a crystal blue, and seemed to have something to say to him. The dark edge of the wood, which he caught a glimpse of here and there, held today a secret and certain promise of the spring and the snow-free earth. The sky was high and clear, and the day had a solemn stillness about it. The frost in the air seemed to be relaxing. In Ingolf's eyes the whole scene wore a solemn aspect, and seemed in a way newborn. Even the low houses with snow-covered roofs seemed to have altered their appearance, and looked twice as home-like. When Orn went in, Ingolf remained standing there, and enjoyed the freshness of the day.

Orn went straight in to the high-seat and his drinking-horn. His throat had become dry from much talk. He emptied the horn in a moment and had it filled afresh. He emptied the horn many times that day.

Ingolf informed Leif in carefully-chosen words that his father would be glad if they extended the proposed brotherhood so as to include the sons of Atle. Leif stood looking down while Ingolf talked. As soon as Ingolf had spoken the first word, he felt sorry that he had brought the question up at all. Leif's attitude had an effect on him. He stood and fumbled with words which would not arrange themselves properly.

When he finished, Leif looked up askance at him. He did not say much at first.

Ingolf felt a profound and unusual depression. He felt as if he had in some degree deceived Leif. "I only wished to tell you that," he tried to add, but was quite sure that his voice did not sound convincing.

"What do you think yourself?" asked Leif at last quietly, and looked up again, still with a rather unsteady glance.

"I have never thought about brotherhood with Atle's sons," answered Ingolf quietly, suddenly recovering his equilibrium. "I have offered you brotherhood with myself alone, and am therefore prevented from forming brotherhood with another. But I understand from what my father said that there perhaps was a possibility that Atle's sons would like to enter into brotherhood with us. And in such a case I would like to know your opinion beforehand."

"I have never contemplated forming brotherhood with Holmsten," answered Leif in a quiet, firm voice, quite different from his usual one. "In fact, I do not choose to be everybody's brother."

"Well, let us say no more about it." Ingolf tried to speak lightly.

Leif stood thoughtful awhile. Then he raised his head and looked in Ingolf's eyes with a firm and trustful look. "I know well," he said in the same quiet tone, "that I am not the best brother you could have. But you shall never have reason to find fault with my faithfulness. I imagine, Ingolf, that you are afraid that I shall some day be the cause of enmity between you and Atle's sons. With my good will that shall not happen. My temper shall never again get the mastery of me before Holmsten. That I swear to you. I know that you like Holmsten, and that you wish to preserve that friendship. You shall see that you can trust me."

The two cousins pressed each other's hands in silence. They referred no more to the matter.

There came a beggar to the house: an old bent man, clothed in dirty rags and torn leather, entered the hall one evening and took a place by the fire on the outer-most bench. There he sat and warmed his crooked fingers, that were blue with cold, and meanwhile squinted about him with pale, cunning eyes. As he sat there, his yellow beard, in which a quantity of nondescript rubbish had been caught, hung down between his legs. His grey hair lay in tatters over his back. But his powerful eyebrows were the most marked feature in his face. Grey and bushy, they almost concealed his eyes when they were lowered, and he had a habit sometimes of drawing them both up together and slightly lifting one at a time, which gave his face a strangely mobile, almost animal, expression.

He was questioned regarding news from the north, but had little information to give. As soon as it was evident that he had nothing important to communicate, he was allowed to sit in peace and warm himself. It seemed as if he valued being left to himself. When he had sat for a while and warmed his hands, he loosed the rags from off his legs and stretched his feet to the fire. They were a marvel of knotted bones and dirt. He looked exhausted. Some remains of the evening meal were brought him. He received the food with a grunt, set it upon his knee, and began eating. With eager hands he first sought the best bits, and, groping about in the food, turned the contents of the dish round, chewing with his whole head. He certainly could eat.

Ingolf and Leif had sought a place near him, and sat looking attentively at him.

"I think he can hold as much in his maw as a cow," whispered Leif, absorbed in looking at him. "And he mumbles just like a cow chewing the cud. Ha! Ha! What an old swine he is!"

The beggar emptied the dish so that only bare bones remained. Then he gulped comfortably and relieved himself of air. Subsequently he fell into a cosy nap while he digested. Thus he sat for some time, apparently sound asleep. But suddenly he raised his eyebrows both together and peered round him with wide-open pale eyes.

Ingolf and Leif had come near to him, and were contemplating him closely--one his legs, and the other his face. They had seldom seen anything like him. He was certainly a remarkable object both above and below. He sat for a time and looked at them without saying anything, looked from one to the other, contemplated them closely, and gave himself plenty of time.

"Point and sword," he said at last in a deep bass tone. "When the point breaks, exploits are over.... But you sit where you should." He turned suddenly to Ingolf and thrust his face with his wide-opened eyes close to his. Then he drew his head back, murmuring in a deep tone, as though at his own thoughts. The boys believed at first that he talked in delirium. They sat still and only stared at him--Leif with his mouth half open. "A curious creature!" he thought, and felt internally much amused.

The old man remained still for some time, looking closely and a little cunningly from one to the other. Their staring did not seem to affect him. "Shall I tell you something?" he asked at last, growling, and winking meaningly with his pale eyes. "Shall I tell you about the new land?"

He turned his face with his eyebrows elevated, questioning, and turning abruptly from one to the other.

In the face of such a direct application from this queer figure, the boys became at first a little embarrassed. They looked at each other, and remained sitting with bowed heads and fumbling fingers.

"Well, if you don't choose to hear it, I don't choose to tell you," growled the old grumbler, shook himself, let his eyebrows sink, and withdrew into himself. The boys lifted their heads, looked at him and at each other, and suddenly became curious. Ingolf nodded to Leif to commence, and Leif blurted out: "Let us hear, old man!"

The beggar slowly lifted his eyebrows, but not in order to look at them. It seemed as if he had forgotten them, and did not hear what Leif said. He sat staring in front of him into the fire with an absent look in his old, strangely bleached eyes.

"Yes, yes," he said at last, as if half unwillingly. "Anyhow, it is all the same to me. Why should I tell you about it? No one escapes his destiny."

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