The Sworn Brothers: A Tale of the Early Days of Iceland

by Gunnar Gunnarsson

But now Leif was in high spirits and proof against blows. He had prepared his mind for troubles and schooled himself to confront Fate. He had cast all responsibility from him far into space! Let any one who chose undertake it! He was riding here—that was all. Could his horse get on? Let happen what would!

He did not doubt for a moment that the matter would finally turn out well for him. He would get clear. How, he did not guess, neither did he trouble himself about it. He had reasonably or unreasonably come to the conclusion that he might just as well stop interfering. Yes, he would not venture to interfere. Suppose he turned off to the left now, and by doing so lost the right direction? No, he would not touch the bridle, but simply trust to luck. If he must pay the price for his rashness, he might just as well do it with the same coin. And if he got home in that way, the account would be settled.

Thus he rode for a long time, but not so long as he thought. He was checked in his progress, and therefore the time seemed more than doubled. He thought he got on faster than he actually did. At last he sat half asleep upon his horse, which he kept going by half-mechanical movements of his arms and legs. The horse went slower and slower. It had lost heart, and would rather have stood still, hung its head, turned its back to the storm, and let time and destiny roll over it. Leif did not agree with the horse in the matter. He himself sat there and let come what would. But something must be kept going, or there would be a complete full-stop. So the horse must continue.

But that was so contrary to the horse's will that Leif at last had to shake off his drowsiness in order to keep the animal going. And, in spite of all, it only went step by step.

Leif was working again with his whole body. Nevertheless, he felt how the cold was tightening its clutch on his limbs and already threatening his stomach and chest. Leif was no fool. He clearly perceived that his life was in danger. In full consciousness he took up the struggle against weariness, which by its temptation to drowsiness sought to surprise him with sleep, that would be fatal in the frost.

Leif rallied himself with a firm resolve. That was not at all to his mind. He did not in the least intend to give up. Twelve years could not satisfy a hunger for life like his. He had much to do in the world. He was, for one thing, a good way yet from becoming a Viking and marrying Helga. Would the forest never come to an end?

At last it did. Leif went on riding and riding. And what did he see? Tracks of a horse which had been going through the snow. So he had then been riding in a circle. And where was he? That the wood only knew.

But now he would follow the tracks in the direction he had come from to see if he could break the circle and, if possible, find his way out of the wood.

Now it seemed to him the chief thing to find his way out, no matter where. That was for the present object enough. He resolutely avoided looking further in his thoughts. Unconsciously he armed himself against the tendency of thought to weaken the mind. He would not have his strength paralysed by too much reasoning. His business was simply to ride on and fight against the cold.