XII
Ingolf and Leif went silently towards the tent. Ingolf was pleasantly fatigued, and felt cheerful. He enjoyed the mental relaxation and dreamy sleepiness which follows when an inner excitement has found its natural relief. He went from the ceremony confirmed in his faith with strengthened will. He felt himself in covenant relation with his ferocious gods.
With Leif the case was opposite. He had been sickened by the sight and smell of the blood of the sacrificed animals. All the rest, and especially Ingolf's behaviour, had had a repelling effect upon him who did not believe in the gods, nay, who had a profound contempt for these ugly, bedizened images of wood. Ingolf's thorough absorption in the ceremonies had made him sick at heart. Here was something he did not understand. How could Ingolf quietly watch helpless men being ill-treated and murdered in honour of the gods? How could he worship gods whom he believed he could appease by hanging serfs and criminals in their honour? Leif did not understand it. He felt himself suddenly alone, and an eager longing for Helga took possession of him. There was something about Ingolf which was beyond his comprehension. In relation to the gods there would always be something to divide them. Hitherto this had possessed such a slight significance for Leif that he had not given the matter a thought. Now it grew suddenly, assumed a shape, and was not to be got away from. Ingolf must certainly not become aware how great a difference there was between them in this respect. For if he did, how could he think of entering into brotherhood with him?
Leif's emotion seethed and fermented. With every step his inward excitement rose higher. To speak out to Ingolf would never do; if once he began to speak, wild and uncontrolled words would stream from his tongue. And he had vowed to himself never to let his fiery temperament discharge itself in evil words over Ingolf.
But, on the other hand, the excitement in his mind gradually became uncontrollable. And now they were so near the tents, that only a few steps more would rob him of the opportunity of relieving himself. He stopped, perplexed, without knowing what he should say or do.
"Ingolf!" he broke out suddenly, as if in bewilderment; his voice was hoarse and unrecognizable. Ingolf stopped, surprised, and turned towards him. In an instant they were confronting each other, Ingolf with an astonished, questioning expression in his eyes and face, Leif quivering in every limb with an excitement which bid fair to derange his mind. He rushed at his cousin, flung his arms round him tightly, and hissed from between his clenched teeth: "Look out!"
Ingolf did not understand what he was about, and had no time to consider. He needed all his presence of mind to keep on his legs, for Leif attacked him with all his might, and his strength seemed to increase with his exertions. Ingolf was not long in discovering that this was serious; he had to defend himself or fall. Leif hissed and groaned and bellowed like a maniac. Ingolf thought it was best to make an end of it, and passed gradually over to the offensive. But it took him time, and he needed to exert all his strength to overcome Leif. At last he succeeded. He took advantage of a slip on Leif's part, slowly deprived him of his foothold—then came the decisive moment—Leif overbalanced and fell.
Ingolf remained lying on the top of him. He had a good grip, and held him fast. Leif's face was purple and swollen, and he foamed at the mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, and were so furious that Ingolf suddenly felt pity for him.