RELATES TO SUCH ELEMENTARY MATTERS AS THE A B C, AND TOUCHES ON LOVE-MAKING IN THE OLDEN TIME

After the occurrence of the events just narrated, King Harald’s attention was diverted from the people of Horlingdal and the neighbouring districts by the doings of certain small kings, against whom it became necessary that he should launch his whole force.  These were King Hunthiof, who ruled over the district of More, and his son Solve Klofe; also King Nokve, who ruled over Romsdal, and was the brother of Solve’s mother.  These men were great warriors.  Hearing that King Harald was sailing north, they resolved to give him battle.

For this purpose they raised a large force, and went out among the skerries to intercept him.

We do not intend here to go into the details of the fight that followed, or its consequences.  It is sufficient for the proper development of our tale to say that they met at an island in North More named Solskiel, where a pitched battle was fought, and gained by Harald.  The two kings were slain, but Solve Klofe escaped, and afterwards proved a great thorn in Harald’s side, plundering in North More, killing many of the King’s men, pillaging some places, burning others, and generally making great ravage wherever he went; so that, what with keeping him and similar turbulent characters in check, and establishing law and order in the districts of the two kings whom he had slain, King Harald had his hands fully occupied during the remainder of that summer, and was glad to go north to spend the winter peacefully in Drontheim.

The families and neighbours, therefore, of those with whom our tale has chiefly to do had rest during that winter.  How some of them availed themselves of this period of repose may be gathered from a few incidents which we shall now relate.

In the first place, Erling the Bold spent a large proportion of his time in learning the alphabet!  Now this may sound very strange in the ears of many people in modern times, but their surprise will be somewhat abated when we tell them that the art of writing was utterly unknown (though probably not unheard of) in Norway at the end of the ninth century, and long after that; so that Erling, although a gentleman of the period, and a Sea-king to boot, had not up to the time we write of, learned his A B C!

It is just possible that antiquaries, recalling to mind the fact that the art of writing was not introduced among the Norse colonists of Iceland until the eleventh century, may be somewhat surprised to learn that our hero acquired the art at all!  But the fact is, that there always have been, in all countries, men who were what is popularly termed “born before their time” ­men who were in advance, intellectually, of their age ­men who, overleaping the barriers of prejudice, managed to see deeper into things in general than their fellows, and to become more or less famous.

Now our hero, Erling the Bold, was one of those who could see beyond his time, and who became almost prophetically wise; that is to say, he was fond of tracing causes onwards to their probable effects, to the amusement of the humorous, the amazement of the stupid, and the horrification of the few who, even in those days of turmoil, trembled at the idea of “change”!  Everything, therefore, that came under his observation claimed and obtained his earnest attention, and was treated with a species of inductive philosophy that would have charmed the heart of Lord Bacon, had he lived in those times.  Of course this new wonder of committing thoughts to parchment, which the hermit had revealed to him, was deeply interesting to Erling, who began to study it forthwith.  And we beg leave to tell antiquaries that we have nothing to do with the fact that no record is left of his studies ­no scrap of his writing to be found.  We are not responsible for the stupidity or want of sympathy in his generation!  Doubtless, in all ages there have been many such instances of glorious opportunities neglected by the world ­neglected, too, with such contempt, that not even a record of their having occurred has been made.  Perchance some such opportunities are before ourselves just now, in regard to our neglect of which the next generation may possibly have to hold up its hands and turn up its eyes in amazement!  But be this as it may, the fact remains that although no record is handed down of any knowledge of letters at this period in Norway, Erling the Bold did nevertheless become acquainted with them to some extent.

Erling began his alphabet after he had passed the mature age of twenty years, and his teacher was the fair Hilda.  It will be remembered that in one of their meetings the hermit had informed Erling of his having already taught the meaning of the strange characters which covered his parchments to the Norse maiden, and that she had proved herself an apt scholar.  Erling said nothing at the time, except that he had a strong desire to become better acquainted with the writing in question, but he settled it then and there in his heart that Hilda, and not the hermit, should be his teacher.  Accordingly, when the fishings and fightings of the summer were over, the young warrior laid by his sword, lines, and trident, and, seating himself at Hilda’s feet, went diligently to work.

The schoolroom was the hermit’s hut on the cliff which overlooked the fiord.  It was selected of necessity, because the old man guarded his parchments with tender solicitude, and would by no means allow them to go out of his dwelling, except when carried forth by his own hand.  On the first occasion of the meeting of the young couple for study, Christian sat down beside them, and was about to expound matters, when Erling interposed with a laugh.

“No, no, Christian, thou must permit Hilda to teach me, because she is an old friend of mine, who all her life has ever been more willing to learn than to teach.  Therefore am I curious to know how she will change her character.”

“Be it so, my son,” said the hermit, with a smile, folding his hands on his knee, and preparing to listen, and, if need be, to correct.

“Be assured, Erling,” said Hilda, “that I know very little.”

“Enough for me, no doubt,” returned the youth.

“For a day or two, perhaps,” said the too-literal Hilda; “but after that Christian will have ­”

“After that,” interrupted Erling, “it will be time enough to consider that subject.”

Hilda laughed, and asked if he were ready to begin.  To which Erling replied that he was, and, sitting down opposite to his teacher, bent over the parchment, which for greater convenience she had spread out upon her knee.

“Well,” began Hilda, with a slight feeling of that pardonable self-importance which is natural to those who instruct others older than themselves, “that is the first letter.”

“Which?” asked Erling, gazing up in her face.

“That one there, with the long tail to it.  Dost thou see it?”

“Yes,” replied the youth.

“How canst thou say so, Erling,” remonstrated Hilda, “when thou art looking all the time straight in my face!”

“But I do see it,” returned he, a little confused; “I am looking at it now.”

“Well,” said she, “that is ­”

“Thou art looking at it upside down, my son,” said the hermit, who had been observing them with an amused expression of countenance.

“Oh, so he is; I never thought of that,” cried Hilda, laughing; “thou must sit beside me, Erling, so that we may see it in the same way.”

“This one, now, with the curve that way,” she went on, “dost thou see it?”

“See it!” thought Erling, “of course I see it:  the prettiest little hand in all the dale!” But he only said ­

“How can I see it, Hilda, when the point of thy finger covers it?”

“Oh! well,” drawing the finger down a little, “thou seest it now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that is ­why! where is Christian?” she exclaimed, looking up suddenly in great surprise, and pointing to the stool on which the hermit certainly had been sitting a few minutes before, but which was now vacant.

“He must have gone out while we were busy with the ­the parchment,” said Erling, also much surprised.

“He went like a mouse, then,” said Hilda, “for I heard him not.”

“Nor I,” added her companion.

“Very strange,” said she.

Now there was nothing particularly strange in the matter.  The fact was that the old man had just exercised a little of Erling’s philosophy in the way of projecting a cause to its result.  As we have elsewhere hinted, the hermit was not one of those ascetics who, in ignorance of the truth, banished themselves out of the world.  His banishment had not been self-imposed.  He had fled before the fierce persecutors.  They managed to slay the old man’s wife, however, before they made him take to flight and seek that refuge and freedom of conscience among the Pagan Northmen which were denied him in Christian Europe.  In the first ten minutes after the A B C class began he perceived how things stood with the young people, and, wisely judging that the causes which were operating in their hearts would proceed to their issue more pleasantly in his absence, he quietly got up and went out to cut firewood.

After this the hermit invariably found it necessary to go out and cut firewood when Erling and Hilda arrived at the school, which they did regularly three times a week.

This, of course, was considered a very natural and proper state of things by the two young people, for they were both considerate by nature, and would have been sorry indeed to have interrupted the old man in his regular work.

But Erling soon began to feel that it was absolutely essential for one of them to be in advance of the other in regard to knowledge, if the work of teaching was to go on; for, while both remained equally ignorant, the fiction could not be kept up with even the semblance of propriety.  To obviate this difficulty he paid solitary nocturnal visits to the hut, on which occasions he applied himself so zealously to the study of the strange characters that he not only became as expert as his teacher, but left her far behind, and triumphantly rebutted the charge of stupidity which she had made against him.

At the same time our hero entered a new and captivating region of mental and spiritual activity when the hermit laid before him the portions of Holy Scripture which he had copied out before leaving southern lands, and expounded to him the grand, the glorious truths that God had revealed to man through Jesus Christ our Lord.  And profoundly deep, and startling even to himself, were the workings of the young Norseman’s active mind while he sat there, night after night, in the lone hut on the cliff, poring over the sacred rolls, or holding earnest converse with the old man about things past, present, and future.