Vifel finished weeping and began stammeringly: "When we came to the point we found the houses empty. We saw no one anywhere. We found the ship in its place down by the shore, but both boats had gone. We began to search the fields and the undergrowth round the point. First we found Hjor-Leif. He lay in a field near the house by the side of a piece of ploughed earth. He had been killed by a stab in the breast. We continued searching, and found gradually most of his men, scattered about in the undergrowth, all dead. Some of them had been obviously stabbed from behind, others had many wounds, which witnessed to a fight having taken place. The serfs and women we saw nowhere."
"Hjor-Leif had a foreboding of that," was the thought that passed through Ingolf's mind when the serf was silent.
Ingolf remained standing quite still. His heart hammered and beat, "Leif! Leif!" At last he lifted his head and looked round him with weary eyes. His look had become very desolate. Otherwise there was nothing to notice in him, now that there was no more doubt and the first strong burst of grief was over.
In a quiet voice he questioned the serf more closely, and learned that he and Karle had buried those of Hjor-Leif's men whom they had found. Hjor-Leif himself they had covered and left lying where they had found him.
A strange slackness had come over Ingolf. Now and then he roused himself and put a question to the serf. Each time the serf had answered, there was again a long pause.
Ingolf gradually got an account of their journey. Vifel told him of the difficult rivers, of the monks and their temple, and how he and Karle had caught and killed one of Hjor-Leif's sheep, which they had found in the thicket, as food for their home journey.
Helga was up this morning early as usual. She was generally out before any one else, especially when the weather was bright. It was in the early morning that she could best go out, unseen and undisturbed, to stand and gaze towards the distant mountains in the south-west which hid Hjor-Leif in their blue mist.
This morning, as soon as she stepped out of the door, she heard quiet voices behind the house. She could not distinguish words, but only heard the sound. This half-heard conversation filled her at once with a peculiar fear, and when she recognized Vifel's voice her heart beat violently. A vague alarm filled her breast and rose choking to her throat. For some time she remained standing and could not move from the spot—stood leaning heavily against the house-wall, and pressed her hand to her heart. Then the voices were suddenly silent. There was stillness behind the house. What could Ingolf and Vifel have to talk about in such a tone? Why had Ingolf not roused her at once? She knew how restlessly he was expecting the serf's arrival.
At last Helga dragged herself the few steps round the house. She both hoped and feared that she must have made a mistake—that it was not Vifel's voice she had heard. But she must have certainty. Her fear was crushing her.
Yes, there stood Vifel, and there stood Ingolf. Helga only needed to see them; the first glance told her everything. Ingolf immediately saw his sister, and by a powerful effort succeeded in collecting himself and going quietly towards her. As he went, he said quietly to the serf: "Go and sleep, Vifel. You are a free man." Vifel departed silently. He did not take the opportunity to thank Ingolf. His highest hope was at last and unexpectedly fulfilled, yet he wept as he went.