I
Years passed and nothing happened. There was much talk of disturbance and disquiet in the north of the country. The young King Harald and his uncle, Guttorm, were continually engaged in warfare. Various raisers of disturbance had already been suppressed, but new ones were continually starting up. The latest rumour current was, that the young King purposed, as soon as he had given peace to his Kingdom, to extend it. It did not look as if he had peaceful intentions. Dalsfjord as yet was ravaged only by rumours. No events themselves, only the faint thunders they aroused, came near there.
Orn, however, was always of opinion that it was safest for Rodmar to remain; especially as Leif had now undertaken the management of the property, and Rodmar might as well remain in one place as another.
Much beer was brewed in Orn's house. Perhaps it was not without some connection with this that Orn and Rodmar's talk took all the more a prophetic tinge. Obscure and rather disconnected wisdom flowed liberally from their lips. Leif called this wise talk nonsense, and was not ashamed to laugh openly in his father's face when he was more wise and obscure than ever. Ingolf, on the other hand, although with some difficulty, continued to invest Orn with a halo of dignity, and showed him all possible filial reverence. He always consulted him in important questions, although certainly only for form's sake. And he never brought forward a matter without having first procured permission to speak. This pleased Orn in a high degree, although he sometimes felt somewhat embarrassed by it, and almost always showed peevishness to his son.
Orn was by no means easy to deal with. For example, Ingolf, at the beginning of the spring when he completed his nineteen winters, went to him to hear his opinion regarding the sowing plans he had made for the summer, and also about a necessary enlargement of the salt-kilns. Orn looked up at him with a scornful and malicious look in his drink-swollen eyes, heard fully all he had to say, and at last broke out harshly on him.
"You are only a peasant! A good-for-nothing you are, although you are tall and heavy enough! You wear the family bracelet! What honour have I from you? There is no energy in you. Do you think one finds honour in the fields? Do you think one can plough it out of the ground? Food you find, but never any honour. Do you think a man keeps fresh by burning salt all his life? Keep away from me with your salt-burning and your sowing-plans. Would any one believe you were a free man's son, and soon full grown? Speak with the serfs about it. No—Harald, Halvdan the Black's son—there is a fellow with some stuff in him! You'll feel his knuckles one day—wait and see! He'll mark you all with the brand of slavery—every man of you. Each and all of you will have to pay tribute to him, if you do not want to be shorter by a head or to have your necks stretched! It is said that he intends to subdue all Norway and to become sole King. How old are you now? Nineteen winters? He is four years younger! You are no King—no! You are right in that. But your forefathers were chiefs, and ruled themselves, and ruled others as the King's peers. Go off to your fields and your salt-burning—I won't listen to you any more. I won't see you! Go! Ha! Wait a little. Go first to the smith, and have your fathers' weapons smelted down into meat-axes! Have you not increased your stock? Are you not in want of meat-axes! No, it was something different in my youth. If I had been in my prime now, the good Harald would have found at least one neck he could not break. Unless, indeed, I had deemed it wisest to assist him. That also might be a way to honour. But you have only thoughts for your fields and your salt-burning. Go!"
Thus Orn spoke, and was very irritable. Ingolf listened to him patiently without moving a muscle. And when he received the command to go he retired with a respectful salute. He honoured the family in his father, and did not wear the family bracelet in vain on his young arm. Ingolf looked after his property; Leif neglected his. For the first two years Leif had managed remarkably well alone. But when it no longer amused him to rule and give orders to the house-servants, he began to become somewhat careless. It was to his advantage that his people were reliable and fond of him—remarkably so, in fact. He might scold them thoroughly, using the whole of his copious vocabulary until his voice failed him. He might beat them and abuse them, and bid them ten thousand times to go the straight way north or down to hell. They admired his readiness of speech and energetic irritability. It was always enlivening to see him in a rage. And it was characteristic of him that his wrath was forgotten as soon as it had blazed up. It flashed up like a fire of pine-needles and burnt out at once. Besides, he was not small-minded, and let every one manage his own affairs, so long as he minded his work. He was a kind and cheerful master to serve under. Many plants grew in his track, but never the plant of dullness.
Ingolf had another way with his people. He immediately became a father and providence for them. He was considerate towards the old, and let them have an easy time. They were never weary of blessing him. He visited them often, and his visit was always like a gift. He showed an equable temper with his people, demanded a certain amount of work from them, and expressed in encouraging words his satisfaction with work well done. On the other hand, no one had ever heard a threat from his mouth. He had his own way of showing displeasure by a certain indifferent silence which did not fail of its effect. No one liked to feel himself the object of that quiet taciturnity. His peaceful manner diffused a peculiar sense of security around him. He was careful in his choice when he engaged new people, which rarely happened. Those whom he had once engaged remained with him.
Leif could not alter his nature; he was just Leif, once and for all. When he had managed his property with diligence and watchfulness for three years it amused him no longer. He began to slacken, and let things go at haphazard. And since they did not seem to go altogether badly that way, he gradually preferred not to look after them at all. So Ingolf found him going idle for whole months at a time. Ingolf wondered at him. How could he choose to go on and undertake nothing? No, that was going too far. Ingolf secretly kept an eye on Leif's property, and saw that it was managed in some way without him, although not thoroughly. So there was all the less reason for him to interfere in Leif's way of living. There resulted a good deal of restraint between the two sworn brothers which was unavoidable. Ingolf tried his best not to let himself be irritated by Leif's idle ways. He exerted himself to meet him as unconstrainedly as before. But his openness was not natural as it used to be, and seemed forced. Leif noticed it without thinking about it, and the feeling of restraint between them continued.