"What will you do now, brother?"
"I don't know yet. But some time Leif shall come to miss the spear which he threw overboard at Hisargavl!"
Orn became quite another man as soon as guests came to the house. He livened up and became young again. He did not gulp down his wine, but drank deep and was none the worse for it. He was still capable of filling the high-seat with dignity and of presiding over a festival.
Rodmar, on the other hand, preferred to remain in bed when anything unusual was going on. The restlessness which the sound of many voices produced in his state of blindness made him unwell. When he could not sit quite peacefully with Orn he liked best to be alone with his wine.
Orn beckoned Haasten to a place beside him on the high-seat. Outside it he seated the other sons of Atle and the sworn brothers, and then the remaining guests according to their age and rank. When the guests had taken their seats the hall was completely filled. Orn set great store by such feasts. He liked sitting as chief in his hall. He stinted neither food nor drink. It filled him with inward satisfaction to see people eat and drink and be merry.
He became cheerful and resumed something of his old dignity.
The fire burnt pleasantly on the flat stone of the hearth. When the guests at last were satisfied, the bowls and wooden dishes were carried out, and the real drinking festival began. The youngest and handsomest women in the house went about in festal attire and poured out beer. Among them was Helga. She served at the high table. Holmsten's eyes followed her wherever she went and stood. He had never shown his liking for her so openly.
Helga could not help noticing his persistent gaze. It made her afraid. She would rather have remained away from the hall, but, on the other hand, she dared not leave Leif out of her sight. Leif sat with his mouth compressed and a gloomy expression in his eyes, and drank but little. That was not his usual way at a feast; he was accustomed to drink rather too much than too little. Only seldom did Helga succeed in catching his eye. He did not return her smile. She went to and fro in great alarm. She took care never to look at Holmsten, and she did not smile at him as at the others when she filled his horn.
Holmsten pretended not to notice it. His eye glowed with the same warmth, and his look followed her with the same persistence about the hall.
Orn proposed the toasts to the gods. He was still equal to emptying horns in their honour. When he proposed the toast of Brage, Holmsten rose and struck on his horn. "It is the custom of high-born men," he said in a loud and cheerful voice, "to make vows when Brage's toast is called. I have a vow to make which I will beg you kind friends to witness."