CHAPTER IV OGMUND DINT COMES AGAIN TO NORWAY, AND MEETS GUNNAR ON THE HARD OF DRONTHEIM
It is time to go back to Ogmund Dint, who had now been two years and more with his father in the North. He had become something of a great man, and had impressed himself as such upon the people round about. But he was not easy in his mind, and more than once or twice he asked himself, "What am I doing, purfling here in a fine coat, when my foster-father, who is as rich as he is old, is perhaps dying in his bed without sight or memory of me, and with none of his kindred at hand either? Is this sense, is this pious? Here I am, for two years at a time, a great man, and a great fool."
At another time he would reflect like this: "That was a very dastardly deed done upon me by Halward, to take me unawares on my own shipboard and knock a great dint in my head!" He would feel the place of it: there it lay under a growth of hair as snug as a wren's nest in the roots of a tree. "A foul blow!" he would say; and "A man may carry his magnanimity too far, to overlook such a shameful thing for the sake of another man, only half akin, who moreover gives you no thanks." He shook his head. "Indeed, I let off Halward too lightly. I daresay he thinks himself a lucky fellow—and so he is, by God."
One train of thought led him into another, and he began to consider his affairs more narrowly. "It would be an easy thing, and very pertinent indeed, to carry this warfare on as it was begun. Two years, three years, is a goodish while. Halward will not be expecting such a long memory in a man who never did him any harm. But insults such as he did to me stay by a man, and the prouder the man the quicker the soil in which they root themselves. I am astonished—I am fairly astonished—that I have kept myself off him so long. There are not many men in Iceland who have themselves so firmly in hand—bitted and saddled."
In the event, without saying anything of his private mind to anybody, he gave out that he must go to Norway upon his affairs. He furnished a ship with men and goods, and towards midsummer sailed from Eyefirth, and steered East-North-East.
He had a fair wind and came into Drontheim Firth in the morning light, sailed up the firth prosperously and brought his ship to under Nith's holm. There he cast his anchor, and bade them get out a boat, though the day was spent and a cool breeze was now blowing off the land. But "I must row up the river some little way and go into the town," he said. "I have heard something of trouble in this country, and we must be sure of our footing before we go further." He dressed himself with splendour, and put over him in particular a very fine cloak of two colours. It was green on one side and golden-brown on the other. It had trimmings of sable-tails which fluttered in the breeze, and over the back of it a dragon worked in gold thread: a very magnificent cloak. He took a sword, and had two men to row him.
They came in to the hard with the last of the light. "Stay you here for me," he said, "and don't show yourselves. This is an urgent affair."
Ogmund walked on the hard, up and down, and felt himself admired of the few persons who were about. By and by he saw one coming down from the town at a brisk pace; a man of his own height, but of sparer frame than his own. He wore a crimson cloak with a hood to it, and wore the hood over his head, shadowing his face. The oncomer when he was close at hand was struck by the splendour of Ogmund's appearance. Ogmund saw that and saluted him. Gunnar Helming, for that was the man in the hood, returned it, and stopped his quick step.
"You are the master of that boat, I take it?" said Gunnar. "A stranger in this water?"
"Not so much as that," replied Ogmund. "I come now and again to see my friends here. But I am from Iceland myself. My name is Ogmund."
Gunnar looked at him. "Are you Ogmund Dint?"
Ogmund said, "Some men call me that, and others who know me better call me Ogmund Ravensson. But that matters little to me. Now what might your name be, in fair return?"
Gunnar told him—but could not keep either eyes or tongue from Ogmund's wonderful cloak. "Gunnar is my name," he said, "and some call me Gunnar Helming, and some Gunnar Half-and-Half."
"What do they call you that for?"
"Because I take pleasure in wearing clothes like that fine cloak of yours," said Gunnar.
"Oh," said Ogmund, "my cloak! It is an ordinary cloak, I believe."
"I, too, like to believe that," said Gunnar.
Then Ogmund asked him for news of the country, "since it is some years now since I was here."
Gunnar told him that they had news which they thought a good deal of. "Earl Haakon is dead, and we now have a very notable king, whose name is Olaf Trygvasson. He is a Christian, and drives all men, and women too, into the water, to make Christians also of them."
Ogmund said this was greatness; "And do the people take kindly to the water?" Gunnar said that they did.
Then Ogmund said, "And my friend Halward, how is he?"
"Oh, he!" said Gunnar. "I saw him just now."
"What, here?" says Ogmund.
"Yes," said Gunnar, "he is here sure enough. He is as good friends with King Olaf as ever he was with Earl Haakon, and yet he is not the man he was when he gave you your name."
"How is that then?" Ogmund wanted to know.
"Why," Gunnar told him, "one of the last battles fought by Haakon was at Yomswicking; and in that battle Halward got a great whang by the ear, and rather below it. It cut the sinew of his neck, and made a bad healing. The good man now carries his head on one side, and will do it until his death-day. And yet he is as well as ever he was otherwise, and in high favour with the king."
Ogmund thanked him for all this news; but saw how preoccupied Gunnar was, and how his eyes dwelt upon his cloak. "You are pleased to admire my cloak," he said. "And yet I assure you it is by no means the best I have."
"I can believe it," said Gunnar, "but for my part I have never seen one so fine since I left the great city of Micklegarth. Now if I asked you to sell it to me, Ogmund, would you take it amiss?"
Ogmund thought for a while. "I will not sell it to you," he said, "but I will ask you to accept it from me. It would be a pleasure to me to please you."
Gunnar opened his eyes. They were very bright. "Give it to me by all means," he said, "and prosper in all your undertakings! But it is too much for you to do—and I am rather ashamed."
"By no means," said Ogmund Dint, "by no manner of means. Yet if it will set your mind at ease, and as the wind blows shrewdly off the mountains, perhaps we may make an exchange. How would that suit you?"
"Excellently," said Gunnar, "but my old cloak is dross for your gold."
"It looks a serviceable garment," said Ogmund. "It will keep the weather away."
There and then they exchanged. Ogmund put on the crimson cloak, and pulled the hood up over his head; Gunnar put on his bargain and was as pleased as a boy with a new top.
"Now indeed we shall see something," said Gunnar.
"Yes, indeed," said Ogmund, and saluted him.
Gunnar went his ways with his brisk step, and Ogmund turned back to his boat. "I shan't be long gone," he said. "Stand by your oars, and be ready the moment I want you." Then he went into the town with long strides, and walked briskly, swinging one arm, as he had observed Gunnar do coming down.
OGMUND DINT SATISFIES HIMSELF, AND SAILS HOME