Erling The Bold

CHAPTER ONE.

IN WHICH THE TALE BEGINS SOMEWHAT FURIOUSLY.

By the early light of a bright summer morning, long, long ago, two small
boats were seen to issue from one of the fiords or firths on the west
coast of Norway, and row towards the skerries or low rocky islets that
lay about a mile distant from the mainland.

Although the morning was young, the sun was already high in the heavens,
and brought out in glowing colours the varied characteristics of a
mountain scene of unrivalled grandeur.

The two shallops moved swiftly towards the islands, their oars shivering
the liquid mirror of the sea, and producing almost the only sound that
disturbed the universal stillness, for at that early hour Nature herself
seemed buried in deep repose. A silvery mist hung over the water,
through which the innumerable rocks and islands assumed fantastic
shapes, and the more distant among them appeared as though they floated
in air. A few seagulls rose startled from their nests, and sailed
upwards with plaintive cries, as the keels of the boats grated on the
rocks, and the men stepped out and hauled them up on the beach of one of
the islets.

A wild uncouth crew were those Norsemen of old! All were armed, for in
their days the power and the means of self-defence were absolutely
necessary to self-preservation.

Most of them wore portions of scale armour, or shirts of ring mail, and
headpieces of steel, though a few among them appeared to have confidence
in the protection afforded by the thick hide of the wolf, which,
converted into rude, yet not ungraceful, garments, covered their broad
shoulders. All, without exception, carried sword or battle-axe and
shield. They were goodly stalwart men every one, but silent and stern.

It might have been observed that the two boats, although bound for the
same islet, did not row in company. They were beached as far from each
other as the little bay into which they ran would admit of, and the
crews stood aloof in two distinct groups.

In the centre of each group stood a man who, from his aspect and
bearing, appeared to be superior to his fellows. One was in the prime
of life, dark and grave; the other in the first flush of manhood, full
grown, though beardless, fair, and ruddy. Both were taller and stouter
than their comrades.

The two men had met there to fight, and the cause of their feud was--
Love!

Both loved a fair Norse maiden in Horlingdal. The father of the maid
favoured the elder warrior; the maid herself preferred the younger.

In those days, barbarous though they undoubtedly were, law and justice
were more respected and more frequently appealed to in Norway than in
almost any other country. Liberty, crushed elsewhere under the
deadweight of feudalism, found a home in the bleak North, and a rough
but loving welcome from the piratical, sea-roving! She did not, indeed,
dwell altogether scathless among her demi-savage guardians, who, if
their perceptions of right and wrong were somewhat confused, might have
urged in excuse that their light was small. She received many shocks
and frequent insults from individuals, but liberty was sincerely loved
and fondly cherished by the body of the Norwegian people, through all
the period of those dark ages during which other nations scarce dared to
mention her name.