But when the king spoke to his son, he found him resolutely opposed to marriage. Hakon loved him so dearly that he forbore to press the matter, and again he consulted Earl Sigvald.
"If he will not marry, let him fight," answered the earl. "For a prince of the race of Yngve, the clash of arms cures melancholy better than a maid."
So with the coming of spring Estein cruised in the Baltic, and carried the terror of his arms far into Finland and Russia. Yet he returned as moody as before.
At feasts his spirits sometimes rose to an extraordinary pitch. For the time he would be carried away as he had never been before. He would sing, jest, and quarrel; but his jests were often bitter, and his quarrels gave rise to more talk than his gloom, for before he had been of an even and generous temper. And when the fit passed away he was quieter than ever.
One day he was out hunting on the fells with Helgi. They were oftener together than ever, and his foster-brother had far more influence with him than any other man.
They stood on a desolate hillside a little above the highest pine woods, examining the tracks of a bear, when Helgi suddenly turned to him and said,—
"Do you not think, Estein, you have moped and mourned long enough?"
"They whom the gods have cursed," replied Estein, "have little cause for laughter. What is there left for me on this earth?"
"To prove yourself a man; to accept the destiny you cannot alter; and in time, Estein, to be a king. Are these things nothing?"
Helgi seldom spoke so gravely, and Estein for a time stood silent.
Then he exclaimed,—