TREATS OF ANCIENT DIPLOMACY AMONG THE NORSEMEN, AND SHOWS HOW OUR HERO TURNS THE TABLES ON A WOULD-BE ASSASSIN

When King Harald heard the news of the defeat of Hake and the slaughter of his men by Erling and Glumm, great was his wrath at first, and Jarl Rongvold had much ado to appease him and prevent him from going at once to Horlingdal to ravage it with fire and sword.  But when he had cooled a little, and heard the details of the fight from Hake himself, his anger against the young warriors changed into admiration of their dauntless courage.

Harald Fairhair was a kingly man in spirit as well as in appearance, and was above encouraging a mean or vengeful mood.  He was indeed fierce and violent in his rage, and often did things which, when read of in the calm of a comparatively peaceful time, make one shudder; but it must not be forgotten that the age in which he lived was a cruel and bloody one, and, in Norway, without one touch of the gentle religion of Christ to soften its asperities.  He could never have retained his power and rule over the stern warriors of his day, had he not possessed much of their own callous indifference to the horrors and cruelties of war.

“Thou hadst tougher work than thou countedst on, it would seem,” he said to Hake; then, turning to Jarl Rongvold, with a laugh, “Methinks I would fain have this Erling the Bold and his friend Glumm the Gruff among my men-at-arms.”

“I fear, sire, that they will not be easily induced to enter thy service, for they are both Sea-kings, and independent spirits.”

“Such men have submitted to us before now,” said the King, with a peculiar glance.

“Most true,” returned the jarl, flushing; “but all men have not the same belief in your wisdom.”

“That may be, yet methinks I could tame this Sea-king ­this Erling.  Perchance costly gifts might win him, or it may be that rough blows would suit him better.  What thinkest thou, Hake? thou hast had some experience in that way.”

“If you mean, sire, that you have a mind to receive rough blows at his hand, I will guarantee him both able and willing to gratify you.  I know not the weight of Thor’s hammer, but I am bound to say that it occurred to my mind when Erling’s axe came down on my steel headpiece, and set a host of stars dancing in my brain.”

“I believe thee,” said the King, smiling grimly, “and thy visage speaks for itself.”

This was indeed the case.  The berserk’s countenance was very pale.  He still suffered from the crashing blow with which he had been felled, and his heart rankled under his defeat, for he was not aware that the blow, heavy though it was, had been delivered in mercy, or that if his enemy had not turned aside the edge of his axe it would have cleft him to the chin.  Perchance, if he had known this it would not have improved the state of his feelings; for Hake possessed no nobility of spirit.

“It may be,” continued Harald, “that thou shalt have another opportunity of measuring swords with this Sea-king.  Meanwhile, Jarl Rongvold, go thou with Rolf, and bring round the Dragon and the other longships to the fiord, for I mistrust the men of this district, and will fare to the Springs by sea.”

In accordance with these instructions the jarl brought the King’s fleet round without delay.  On the following morning they embarked, and set sail for the appointed place of meeting.

Here the fleet under Haldor and Ulf had already cast anchor.  The ships lay close to the rocks, near the mouth of the river into which Erling had thrust his cutter just before the battle with the Danes; and a fine sight it was to behold these, with their painted shields and gilded masts and figure-heads, lying in the still water, crowded with armed warriors, while Harald’s longship, the Dragon, and all his other vessels, came by twos and threes into the fiord, the oars tossing foam on the blue waters, and the gaily coloured sails swelling out before a gentle breeze.

The King laid his ship alongside of a point of rocks on the south side of the bay.  Then, when all the fleet had assembled, both parties landed, and the Thing was summoned by sound of horn.  It was held on the level ground where the recent battle had been fought.  There were still strewn about many evidences of the ferocity of that fight; and when the King looked upon the host of stout and well-armed men who had assembled, not only from Horlingdal, but from the whole of the surrounding district, he felt that, however much he might wish to force obedience on his subjects, “discretion” was at that time “the better part of valour.”

When the Thing was assembled the King stood up to speak, and there was probably not a man upon the ground who did not in his heart acknowledge that the tall, stout warrior, with the thick mass of golden locks, and the large masculine features, was, as far as physique went, a worthy wearer of the crown of Norway.  It may be added that physique went a very long way indeed in those days; yet it is due to the Northmen to say that, at the same time, intellect was held in higher repute among them than among any of the feudally governed nations of Europe.  One evidence of this was, that at the Things the best speaker, no matter what his rank, had a better chance of swaying the people than the King himself; while, in other countries, might to a large extent was right, and no one dared to open his mouth against him who chanced to be in power.

But King Harald Haarfager’s power lay not merely in his personal appearance and indomitable will.  He was also a good speaker, and, like all good speakers in a wrong cause, was an able sophist.  But he had men to deal with who were accustomed to think and reason closely, as must ever be more or less the case with a self-governed people.  There were acute men there, men who had the laws of the land “by heart”, in the most literal sense of those words, ­for there were no books to consult and no precedents to cite in those days; and his hearers weighed with jealous care each word he said.

The King began by complimenting the men of the district for their spirit, and their resolution to defend the laws of the realm; and he enlarged a little on these laws and on the wisdom of his own father, Halfdan the Black, and the men of his time, who had made and modified many of them.  Then he went on to say that with time the circumstances of nations altered, and that, with these alterations, there arose a necessity for the alteration and modification of old laws as well as for the making of new ones.  He deprecated the idea that he wished, as had been said of him, to trample the laws under his feet, and rule the country according to his own will and pleasure.  Nothing was further from his intention or his desire.  His wish was to amend the laws, especially those of them that touched on the relative position of King and people.

Up to this point the people heard him with respectful attention, and hundreds of those who were more addicted to fighting than to reasoning, especially among the younger men, began to think that after all, Harald entertained exceedingly just opinions, and appeared to possess a spirit of candour and fair play which did not seem to justify the outcry that had been raised against him.  Even these, however, remembered that it was not very long since a small king of one of the northern glens had been summoned by Harold to submit to his views of government, and, on his declining to do so, had been burnt, with all his family and followers, in his own house, contrary to law!  They therefore knitted their brows and waited to hear more.

The King then began to explain his ideas with regard to the royal authority over the chief men of the districts, some of which are already known to the reader.  At this point the assembly listened with deep, earnest attention.  Some of the men sat with hands clasped on their knees, and with stern downcast brows.  Some gazed up at the clouds with the peculiar expression of men who listen and weigh arguments.  Others leaned on their swords or shields, and, with compressed lips and suspicious gaze, looked the King full in the face, while a few regarded him with a sneer; but the expression on the faces of the greater part denoted manliness of feeling and honesty of purpose.

After Harald had stated his views, and assured them that his great aim was to consolidate the kingdom and to prevent the evils that flowed from the almost unlimited independence of the petty kings, he asked the assembly to aid him in carrying out his wishes, and to set an example of fidelity and obedience, which would restrain others from showing that unseemly opposition to him which had only resulted in severe and merited punishment.

He then sat down amid a murmur of mingled applause and disapprobation.

After a few minutes of animated converse among themselves, there arose an old man with a bald head, a flowing beard, and sightless eyes.  He was the “lagman” or district judge, and law-expounder of Horlingdal.  Deep silence ensued, and he said, in a decided though somewhat tremulous tone ­

“King Harald, I am a very old man now, and can remember the time when your noble sire, Halfdan the Black, ruled in Norway.  I have fought by his side, and lost my eyes in his service ­in a fight in which our opponents gave us the tooth-ache. [Norse expression signifying `the worst of it.’] I have also heard him speak those words of wisdom to which you have referred, and have seen him bow to the laws which were made not by himself, but by him in conjunction with the Thing legally assembled for the purpose.”

There was a loud murmur of applause at this point.

“And now that we have heard the King’s opinions,” continued the old man, turning to the people, “and know that his intentions are good, although the manner in which he has set about carrying them into effect is undoubtedly wrong, my counsel is that we nevertheless submit to him in this matter, for we know that a great number of the small kings have already submitted, and it were better to have a beneficial change ­even when not carried out exactly according to law ­than to plunge this country into prolonged and useless warfare, in which much blood will, assuredly, be spilt, and nothing of any value gained.”

The lagman sat down, but only a few of those present indicated their approval of his sentiments.

Immediately Haldor the Fierce stood up, and men could see that his spirit was stirred within him, for a dark frown lowered on a brow which was at most times fair and unruffled like the summer sky.  There was deep silence in the assembly before he began to speak, and the King, despite the suppressed anger which rankled in his breast, could not choose but look upon his commanding figure with respect, also with surprise, for he recognised the strong resemblance between him and Erling, though he knew not their relationship.

“I agree not,” said Haldor, “with what has just been said by our respected lagman.  A change, even for the better, ought never to be accepted if not made according to law, No one can say that any change will certainly be for the better until it is tried; and should this one, perchance, turn out for the worse, then shall we have neither advantage nor law on our side.  For my part I had rather see my country plunged into warfare ­which no one, unless he is gifted with the foreknowledge of the gods, can say will be either prolonged or useless ­than see her laws trampled under foot; for well do I know that, if the King be permitted to make himself an outlaw, blood will be kept boiling perpetually from one end of the land to the other, and it were better, methinks, that that blood should spill than boil.  My counsel is, that the King be advised to call a Thing in the regular way, so that the changes he would make shall be fully considered, and either be made law or rejected; for, if he attempts to enforce his plans on us as he has done on other small kings, we will assuredly resist him as long as there is a man left in the district to wield a battle-axe.”

There was a great shout and clash of arms when this was said, and the King’s face became crimson with rage, for he saw clearly that the feeling of the majority was against him.

At this point Jarl Rongvold stood up and spoke in the bland tones of a man who wishes to throw oil on troubled waters.

He said that it was his earnest entreaty to the bonders and house-holding men, both great and small, then and there assembled, that they should calmly consider the proposals of the King, and not allow themselves to be carried away by unsound reasoning, although it might seem very plausible, for he was certain that the King’s desire was the good of the country; and although circumstances had rendered it necessary that some of the rebellious should be punished, no one could say that the King was not willing and ready to do all that he did in a fair, open, and straightforward manner.

At this Erling was unable to restrain himself.  He sprang up, and, with a passionate flow of words that burst forth like a mountain torrent, exclaimed ­

“Thinkest thou, Jarl Rongvold, that our brains are so addled that we cannot distinguish between black and white?  Is thy memory so short, is thy slavery to the King so complete, that thou must say evil is good and good evil?  Hast thou and has the King so soon forgotten that two strangers came to the court with a message from one of the legal assemblies of this land, ­that, trusting to the honour of the King, they came without following, and with only such arms as were needful for personal defence, ­and that the honour to which they trusted was not proof against the temptation to send a noted berserk and nineteen men to waylay and slay them?  Is all this clean gone from your memory, Jarl and King? or is your wit so small that ye should think we will believe in soft words about fair play when such foul deeds are so recent that the graves are yet wet with the blood of those whom Glumm and I were compelled to slay in self-defence?”

At this the King started up, and his face became white and red by turns, as he said ­

“Ye shall, both of you, rue this day, Erling and Glumm!”

Erling made no reply, but Glumm started up and was in so great a passion that he could hardly speak; nevertheless he made shift to splutter out ­

“Threats, King Harald, are like water spilt on a shield which can only rust if left there; I wipe them off and fling them away!”

He could add no more, but with a contemptuous motion of the hand he struck his fist violently against his shirt of mail, and the bonders laughed while they applauded him.

Then stood up a man in the troop of the Springdal men, who was of great stature and grim countenance, clad in a leather cloak, with an axe on his shoulder and a great steel hat upon his head.  He looked sternly, and said ­

“When rights are not respected then the crows flap their wings and caw, for they know that ere long they shall glut themselves with human blood.”

He sat down, and immediately after Ulf of Romsdal stood up.  Ulf had fully as much fire as Erling or Glumm, but he possessed greater power of self-restraint, and, as he spoke with deliberation, his words had all the more weight.  He said ­

“King Harald, when in the exercise of our udal rights we bonders elected thee to be our King at the Thing held in Drontheim, we stated and traced thy descent from Odin through the Vingling dynasty, proved thy udal right to the crown, and truly thought that we had placed it on the head of one who would walk in the footsteps of his father, and respect that authority and power in virtue of which he held his own high position.  But we now find that thou hast constituted thyself a law higher than the law which made thee what thou art, and thou now wouldst have us, of our own free will, bend our necks so low that thou mayest with the more ease set thy foot on them and keep us down.  We have served thee in all good faith up to the present time; we have readily met thy demands for men, ships, arms, and money, by calling together our assemblies and voting these supplies; and now thou wouldst rob us of this our old right, and tax us without our consent, so that thou mayest raise men for thyself, and have it all thine own way.  This must not, shall not, be.  Even now, we bonders will unanimously hold by the law if it be passed in the proper assembly and receives our yea, and we will follow thee and serve thee as our King as long as there is a living man amongst us.  But thou, King, must use moderation towards us, and only require of us such things as it is lawful or possible for us to obey thee in.  If, however, thou wilt take up this matter with a high hand, and wilt try thy power and strength against us, we have resolved among ourselves to part with thee, and to take to ourselves some other chief who will respect those laws by which alone society can be held together.  Now, King Harald, thou must choose one or other of these conditions before the Thing is ended.”

The loud applause which followed this speech showed that the bonders heartily sympathised with it, and indeed several of them rose and said that it expressed their will exactly, and they would stand or fall by what had been spoken.

When silence had been restored, Jarl Rongvold, who had whispered in the King’s ear some earnest words, stood forth and said: 

“It is King Harald’s will to give way to you in this matter for he does not wish to separate himself from your friendship.”

This brought the Thing to a close.  Thereafter the two parties returned to their ships, intending to feast and pass the night in them.

The King was very affable, and invited Haldor and some of the others whose language had been comparatively moderate to feast with him, but they declined the honour, and retired to their own ships.

In the evening, while the sounds of revelry were heard everywhere, a boat approached Erling’s ship.  It was rowed by a single man, who, when it touched her side, leaped on board and went aft to where Erling was seated with Guttorm Stoutheart.

“King Harald would speak with thee,” said the man, who was no other than Hake the berserk.

“Methinks his intentions can scarce be friendly,” said Erling, with a grim smile, “when he sends so trusty a messenger.”

“It may be so,” replied Hake coolly, “but that is nothing to me.  My business is to deliver the message and offer to conduct thee to him.”

“And pray, what surety have I that thou wilt not upset me in the fiord?” asked Erling, laughing.

“The surety that if I upset thee we shall be on equal terms in the water,” replied Hake gruffly.

“Nay, that depends on which of us can swim best,” returned Erling; “and, truly, if thou canst fight as well in the water as on the land, we should have a rare struggle, Hake.”

“Am I to say to the King that thou art afraid of him?” asked the berserk, with a look of scorn.

“Yea, truly, if it is thy desire to tell him a lie,” retorted Erling.  “But get thee into the boat, fellow; I will follow anon.”

Hake turned on his heel and returned to the boat, while Erling took Guttorm aside.

“Now, art thou fey?” [death-doomed] said Guttorm.  “What has made thee so tired of life that thou shouldest put thy neck under his heel thus readily?”

“Fear not, my friend,” said Erling; “now that I have seen King Harald a second time, I think him a better man than at first I did.  Ambition will no doubt lead him to do many things that are contrary to his nature; but I do not think he will violate the laws of hospitality after what has passed.  However, I may be wrong; so I would ask thee, Guttorm, to go aboard of your ship, which lies nearest to that of the King, and, should ye see anything like a struggle, or hear a shout do thou haste to the rescue.  I will have my men also in readiness.”

While the stout-hearted old Sea-king, in compliance with this request, got into a small boat and rowed to his own vessel, Erling gave particular directions to his chief house-carle to keep a sharp lookout and be ready to act at a moment’s notice.  Then he went into Hake’s boat, and was rowed alongside the Dragon, where the King received him with much condescension, and took him aft to the cabin under the high poop.  Here he offered him a horn of ale, which, however, Erling declined, and then began to use his utmost powers of persuasion to induce him to enter his service.  At first he tried to influence him by flattery, and commended him for his bold and straightforward conduct at the Thing, which, he said, showed to all men that he merited well his distinctive title; but, on finding that our hero was not to be won by flattery, he quickly and adroitly changed his ground, began to talk of the future prospects of Norway, and the necessity for improved legislation.  In this he was so successful that he secured the interest, and to some extent the sympathy, of the young warrior, who entered eagerly and somewhat more respectfully into the discussion.

“But, sire,” he said, at the close of one of the King’s remarks, “if these are your sentiments, why did you not state them more fully to-day at the Thing, and why should you not even now call a meeting of the Stör Thing, and have the matter properly discussed by all in the land who have a right to speak?”

“Hadst thou had any experience of kingcraft, Erling, thou hadst not asked the question.  If I were now to do as thou dost suggest, the numerous small kings who have already been put down by force would band against me, and bring such a following of opponents to the Thing that fair discussion would be out of the question.”

Erling thought in his own mind, “One false step always necessitates another; you should have called a meeting of the Thing before putting down anyone;” however, he did not give utterance to the thought, but said ­

“I think you are mistaken, sire; there may be many who, out of revenge, might oppose you, but certain am I that those who would vote for that which is for the wellbeing of the land would form a vast majority.  Besides, it is the only course left open to you.”

At this the King flushed with a feeling of anger, and, drawing himself up, touched the hilt of his sword without uttering a word.

“When I said the only course,” remarked Erling, “I meant the only lawful course.  Sorry should I be to see you, King Harald, draw the sword in a bad cause; but if you do, be assured that thousands of good blades will gleam in opposition.”

At this the King’s eyes flashed, and, turning suddenly upon Erling, he shook back the masses of his yellow hair with lion-like ferocity, exclaiming ­

“Dost thou dare to speak thus to me in mine own ship, Erling?”

“It is because I am in your ship that I dare.  Were I in my own, the laws of hospitality had shut my mouth.”

“Knowest thou not,” said the King, waxing still more angry at the rebuke conveyed in this speech, and laying his hand on his sword, “that I have power to shut thy mouth now and for ever?”

“It may be so, and it may be not so,” replied Erling, stepping back, and laying his hand on the hilt of his own weapon.

At this the King laughed sarcastically.  “And if,” said he, “thou hadst the power and skill to overcome my feeble arm, hast thou the folly to think that ye could clear the Dragon of all her men?”

Erling replied:  “The remembrance, King Harald, of the way in which I treated some of thy men in the woods not long ago, inclines me to believe that I could give them some trouble to slay me, and the thought of that transaction induced me, before I came hither, to make such arrangements that at all events my fall should not go unavenged.”

For a moment or two the King’s countenance lowered ferociously on the youth, and he ground his teeth together as if unable to restrain his passion; but suddenly he uttered a short laugh, and said ­

“Truly thou shouldst have been styled prudent as well as bold.  But go, I will take counsel with others, and perhaps thou shalt hear again of this matter.”

Our hero retired immediately, but he observed in passing that Hake was summoned to attend the King, and that another man stepped into the boat to row him to his own ship.

“Is all well?” growled the rich voice of old Guttorm as he passed the vessel of that worthy.

Erling told the rower to stop, and, glancing up, beheld the stern yet good-humoured visage of his bluff friend looking over the rows of bright shields that hung on the bulwarks.

“All is well,” replied Erling.

“It is well for the King that it is so,” rejoined Guttorm, “for my hand was itching to give him a taste of our northern metal.  Assuredly, if a mouse had but squeaked on board the Dragon, I had deemed it sufficient ground on which to have founded an immediate onslaught.  But get thee to bed, Erling, and let me advise thee to sleep with thy windward eye open.”

“Trust me,” said Erling, with a laugh, as he pushed off; “I will not sleep with both eyes shut to-night!”

Getting on board his own ship, Erling said to his foot-boy ­

“I will not sleep in my bed to-night, for I suspect there may be treachery abroad.  Thou shalt keep watch, therefore, in case anything may happen in the night; and if thou shalt see me strive with anyone, do not alarm the men.  Meanwhile go thou and fetch me a billet of wood, and let it be a large one.”

The boy quickly brought from the hold one of the largest billets of wood he could find, and gave it to his master, who laid it in his own bed, which was under a small tent spread over the aft part of the vessel, close to the poop.  Having covered it up carefully, he sent the boy forward, and went himself to lie down elsewhere.

At midnight a boat was rowed stealthily alongside.  It was guided by one man, and moved so silently that the lightest sleeper on board could not have been awakened by it.  The man stepped on board; lifted up the cloth of the tent over the bulwarks; looked cautiously all round him, and then went up and struck in Erling’s bed with a great axe, so that it stuck fast in the billet of wood.  Next instant the man felt his neck in a grip like that of an iron vice, and his face was thrust upon the ground and held there, while a heavy knee pressed into the small of his back, so that he was utterly unable to rise.

Erling’s foot-boy saw the whole of this, and heard what followed, for the curtain of the tent was raised; but he moved neither hand nor foot, though he held a spear ready for instant action if required.

“It ill becomes thee, Hake,” said Erling, “to seek my life a second time, after making such poor work of it the first.  What! wilt thou not lie quiet?”

While he was speaking the berserk struggled with the fury of a madman to free himself, but Erling’s grip (perhaps his own wisdom also!) prevented him from shouting, and Erling’s knee prevented the struggles from making much noise.  Finding, however, that he would not be quiet, our hero tightened the pressure of his left hand until the tongue and eyes of the berserk began to protrude, and his face to get black, while with his right hand he drew his knife, and ran the point of it about a quarter of an inch into the fleshy part of Hake’s back.  The effect was instantaneous!  Hake could face danger and death bravely, and could hurl defiance at his foe with the best, when on his legs; but when he felt the point of the cold steel, and knew that the smallest impulse would cause it to find a warm bed in his heart, his fury vanished.  Brave and bold though he was, and a berserk to boot, he sank quietly down, and lay perfectly still!

Erling at once relaxed the pressure of his fingers, and allowed Hake to breathe, but he let the point of the knife remain, that it might refresh his memory, while he read him a lesson: ­

“Now, Hake, let me tell thee that thou richly deservest to lose thy life, for twice hast thou sought to take mine in an unfair way, and once have I spared thine.  However, thou art but a tool after all, so I will spare it again ­and I do it the more readily that I wish thee to convey a message to thy master, King Harald, who, I doubt not, has sent thee on this foul errand.”

Erling here signalled to his foot-boy, whom he directed to bind Hake’s arms securely behind his back.  This having been done, Erling suffered him to rise and stand before him.

“See now,” he said, taking a silver ring from his finger, “knowest thou this ring, Hake?  Ah, I see by thy look that thou dost.  Well, I will return it to thee and claim mine own.”

He turned the berserk round, took off the gold ring which he had placed on his finger on the day of the fight and put the silver one in its place.

“By these tokens,” said he, “thou mayest know who it was that cared for thee in the wood after the fight, and restored thy consciousness, instead of cutting off thy head, as he might easily have done.  I know not why I did it, Hake, save that the fancy seized me, for thou art an undeserving dog.  But now we will take thee back to thy master, and as our message can be conveyed without the use of speech, we will bind up thy mouth.”

So saying, Erling gagged the berserk (who looked dreadfully sulky) with a strip of sailcloth.  Then he made him sit down, and tied his legs together with a piece of rope, after which he lifted him in his arms to the side of the ship and laid him down.

“Go fetch me a stout carle,” he said to the foot-boy, who went forward and immediately returned with a strapping man-at-arms.

The man looked surprised, but asked no questions, as Erling directed him in a low tone to assist in lifting the prisoner into the boat as quietly as possible.  Then they placed the lump of wood with the axe sticking in it beside him.  This accomplished, they rowed silently to the side of the Dragon, where a sentinel demanded what they wanted.

“We bring a prisoner to King Harald,” answered Erling.  “We have him here tied hand and foot.”

“Who is he?” asked the sentinel; for there was not so much light as is usual at midnight of that time of the year, owing to a mist on the sea.

“Thou shalt see when he is aboard.”

“Hoist him up, then,” said the man, Erling and his carle raised Hake over the bulwarks, and let him drop heavily on the deck.  Then Erling seized the lump of wood and hurled it on board with considerable force, so that, hitting the sentinel on the head, it bounded onwards to the after part of the ship, and struck against the tent under which Harald lay.  The King sprang out, sword in hand, but Erling had pushed off, and was already enveloped in the mist.  As they rowed away they heard a great clamour on board the Dragon, but it was quickly hushed by a stern voice, which Erling knew to be that of the King.

No pursuit was attempted.  Erling got back to his own ship, and, setting a watch, lay down to rest.

In the morning no notice was taken of what had occurred during the night.  The King evidently pretended that he knew nothing about the matter.  He again met with the chief men of the district, and made them many promises and many complimentary speeches, but in his heart he resolved that the day should come when every one of them should either bow before his will or lose his life.  The bonders, on the other hand, listened with due respect to all the King said, but it need scarcely be added that their lips did not express all their thoughts; for while the sanguine and more trustful among them felt some degree of hope and confidence, there were others who could not think of the future except with the most gloomy forebodings.

In this mood the two parties separated.  The King sailed with his warships out among the skerries, intending to proceed north to Drontheim, while Haldor the Fierce, with his friends and men, went back to Horlingdal.