It was impossible to remain behind now that his only friend had departed. The solitude became intense and oppressive around him, and the pain of his darkness was doubled. At last he took the resolve to follow his elder kinsman in death, as he had always followed him in life.
Rodmar crawled over the gunwale on his crooked legs and groped his way forward to the opening of the burial chamber. Then he turned and spoke to the air. "Is there wine on board?" he asked in an impatient and peremptory tone.
Leif sprang on board and led his father from barrel to barrel so that he could feel them with his own hands. Rodmar shook the barrels to see whether they were full, and sniffed them distrustfully. He chose one of them, and demanded to have one hoop knocked off. This was done. Afterwards he asked that the tool for opening it should remain with him and be close to his hand. He was also allowed to retain the tool.
His seat was fixed in its place, and Rodmar sat down with a long sigh of relief, as it were. On one side of him he had an open barrel of red wine, on the other a horn filled to the brim, standing on a little table, which had been quickly brought to the place.
Rodmar borrowed Leif's sword, and, baring his breast with fumbling fingers, cut on it with his own hand the sign of the Hammer. Then he said farewell to Ingolf and the others standing round, and in a slightly morose and curt tone gave Leif his last blessing. Then the opening to the burial chamber was closed up. Rodmar sat, as long as they could see him, motionless on his chair. He had secured Orn's society for ever. He was prepared for anything that might come. A man should be able both to live and die with a light heart. He had drink for the journey, and there is also wine in Valhalla.
Ingolf killed with his own hand an ox that was laid on an oak-plank by the side of the kitchen utensils. Its mouth was held open with a wooden gag and turned towards the south. He also slew with his own hand four horses, two dogs, and a swine. The swine was laid by the side of the box; the other animals were taken to the fore-part of the ship. The serf who was to have accompanied Orn was now spared, as Orn had better company.
Stones were heaped over the ship and all its contents, and then the barrow was hastily filled up. This closed the funeral ceremonies. Orn and Rodmar had departed to Odin.
XII
It soon became evident to Ingolf that on that spring day he had not buried Orn only. He had also interred with his father his home-feeling, his peace and confidence in this region of his childhood and youth. Already, when on the first morning after the burial he stepped out of the house and saw his father's mighty barrow lift its dome in the landscape, it struck him all at once that the district had assumed an alien aspect. The confidence in the contours and colours, which has its root in the child's free look and strong, unconscious sense of belonging to the spot where he has grown up, was gone. The landscape had suddenly lost its light in his eyes. He felt thrust out and lonely. It was not here that he should live his life.