It could not be long, he felt, before something leaked out as to what lay at the root of it all. Some accidental hint, a word let drop, might give him a chance to take the matter up. And if he could but find out who was the leader responsible for it all, it should go hard with him.
He suspected Ketill, but could not understand how he could have such power in the parish already as to bring about such a change in the general attitude of the people.
As to his own practical difficulties—he might perhaps get hands from farther off, but he could not be away from the place himself, and there was no one he could send. Nothing for it, then, but to wait patiently for Ormarr’s return.
Ørlygur shook his head sadly as he realized his helplessness. Truly, he was getting old.
The vessel was nearly due now.
Ørlygur kept a close watch on the fjord, and held three horses in readiness for the moment when the ship rounded the point.
If only it would come! He shook his head; he had a feeling that there was but a little time left him now to live.
And he dreaded lest perhaps the ship should not come, or something have prevented Ormarr from making the voyage. He spoke to old Ossa about the weather; no, surely it could not send a fine vessel to the bottom.
Ørlygur’s hands trembled incessantly; he was visibly aged, and his voice quavered when he spoke of his own affairs.