There Vifel found the Irish serfs. They were living in caves scattered about on the largest of the islands. When they found that they were discovered, panic seized them, and they did not even try to offer resistance. When they saw Ingolf's men coming over the island they scattered in wild confusion. Some of them were cut down while flying; others, among whom was Duftak, flung themselves down from the cliffs and promontories and perished.
The women, whom the serfs had taken with them out to the islands, and the most obstinate of whom were still kept bound, were able to tell how Hjor-Leif and their husbands had been murdered. They spoke coolly and calmly of the matter. They had forgotten how to weep and how to rejoice.
Vifel buried the serfs on the edge of the shore, where the ground is dry at ebb and covered at full tide, as criminals should be buried.
Then he searched each creek and promontory in vain. The pillars had not drifted to shore there. Afterwards he distributed his men in three boats with the women and the valuables which the serfs had stolen and taken with them to the islands, among them Hjor-Leif's costly sword. Ever since then the islands have been called the Westman Islands after the Irish serfs.
Ingolf met the boats down on the shore. Vifel told him of the death of the serfs, recounted the women's narrative of Hjor-Leif's murder, and handed him the sword.
Ingolf took it cautiously. He remembered the story about Hjor-Leif's fight with the dead man, who was reported to have said that a charm attached to the sword whereby everyone who killed with it should himself die by it. Ingolf had comforted himself with the thought that so long as Hjor-Leif had not killed anyone with the sword there was no danger for him from it. Now, however, Hjor-Leif had been slain by it. Perhaps the saying meant that whoever possessed that sword should perish by it. At any rate he would not have it. Sorcery was not to be trifled with. Ingolf went straight to Hjor-Leif's grave with the sword and stuck it in the earth so that the golden handle projected from the black mould. It was the only thing left by his brother which he was unwilling to receive.
There was no danger of anyone taking it there. His men kept at a distance from Hjor-Leif's grave. They asserted that he walked again, and believed that Helga met the dead man when she went up there at night, as she often did.
Ingolf did not share their superstition in that respect. But, on the other hand, he well understood how Helga's appearance might give rise to such thoughts in his men. She looked more like a dead man's bride than a young living woman. Her fair hair had become white, and hung dishevelled about her head. The light of her glance was quenched, and the skin that stretched over her wan, emaciated face was grey and without brightness or colour. The only signs of life she gave were eating and breathing. She carefully took charge of Thorsten, with a peculiar absent tenderness, since Hallveig had now a little girl to watch over. She did nothing else.
That summer and the following winter Ingolf remained by Hjor-Leif's point. The next spring he departed and went farther westward. He stopped at a river whose mouth formed a comparatively safe harbour. Good landing-places were generally scarce on these shores. Thither he had his ships brought. Some way inland, west of the river, he built winter dwellings under a hill, which was named Ingolf's Hill. In the summer, as always, he had his men out to search for the pillars. When they came back they were able to inform him that they had reached a great promontory. North of the mountains there was a broad fjord.