Proves that the Best of Friends may quarrel about nothing, and that War has two Aspects.
 
“Now, Erling,” said Glumm, with a face so cheerful, that had the expression been habitual, he never would have been styled the Gruff, “I will go home with thee and wait until thou art busked, after which we will go together to my house and have a bite and a horn of mead before setting out on this expedition. I thank the Stoutheart for suggesting it, for the business likes me well.”
 
“Thou wert ever prone to court danger, Glumm,” said Erling with a laugh, as they hurried towards Haldorstede, “and methinks thou art going to be blessed with a full share of it just now, for this Harald Haarfager is not a man to be trifled with. Although thou and I could hold our own against some odds, we shall find the odds too much for us in the King’s camp, should he set his face against us. However, the cause is a good one, and to say truth, I am not sorry that they had the goodness to pitch on thee and me to carry out the plan.”
 
Thus conversing they arrived at Ulfstede, where Herfrida met them at the door, and was soon informed of their mission. She immediately went to an inner closet, where the best garments and arms were kept, and brought forth Erling’s finest suit of armour, in order that he might appear with suitable dignity at court.
 
She made him change his ordinary shoes for a pair made of tanned leather, on which he bound a pair of silver spurs, which had been taken from a cavalier of southern lands in one of Haldor’s viking cruises. She brought, and assisted him to put on, a new suit of mail, every ring of which had been brightly polished by the busy hands of Ingeborg, who was unusually fond of meddling with everything that pertained to the art of war; also a new sword-belt of yellow leather, ornamented with gold studs. On his head she placed a gilt helmet with his favourite crest, a pair of hawk’s wings expanded upwards, and a curtain of leather covered with gilt-steel rings to defend the neck. Over his shoulders she flung a short scarlet cloak, which was fastened at the throat by a large silver brooch, similar to the circular brooches which are still to be found in the possession of the rich bonders of Norway. Then she surveyed her stalwart son from head to foot, and said that he would stand comparison with any king in the land, small or great.
 
At this Erling laughed, and asked for his sword.
 
“Which one, my son?”
 
“The short one, mother. I had indeed thought of taking my good old axe with me, but that would not look well in a man bent on a mission of peace. Would it, Glumm? And if I should have to fight, why, my short sword is not a light one, and by putting to a little more force I can make it bite deep enough. So now, Glumm, I am ready for the road. Farewell, mother.”
 
The young men went out and hastened down the valley to Glummstede, near Horlingend.
 
Now it chanced that Hilda and her foster-sister Ada had resolved, about that time of the day, to walk up the dale together, and as there was only one road on that side of the river, of necessity they were met by their lovers; and it so fell out that the meeting took place in a picturesque part of the dale, where the road passed between two high precipitous cliffs.
 
The instant that Ada’s eyes fell on Glumm her active brain conceived the idea of treating him to a disappointment, so she said hurriedly to her friend:
 
“Hilda, wilt thou manage to lead Glumm aside and keep talking to him for a short time, while I speak with Erling? I want to ask him something about that sword-belt which I am making for Glumm, and which I intend to send him as the gift of an enemy.”
 
“I will do as ye desire,” replied Hilda, with a feeling of disappointment; “but with what truth canst thou send it, Ada, as an enemy’s gift?”
 
“Simple Hilda!” said the other, with a laugh, “am I not an enemy to his peace of mind? But hush! they will overhear us.”
 
It chanced that Hilda was on the same side of the road with Erling, and Ada on that with Glumm, and both youths observed this fact with secret satisfaction as they approached and wished the maids “good day”; but just as they were about to shake hands Ada crossed in front of her companion, and taking Erling’s outstretched hand said:
 
“Erling, I am glad to meet thee, because I have a knotty point which I wish thine aid to disentangle. I will turn and walk with thee a short way, because I know thy business is pressing. It is always so with men, is it not?”
 
“I know not,” answered Erling, smiling at the girl’s arch look, despite his surprise and chagrin at the unexpected turn affairs had taken, for he had noted the readiness with which Hilda had turned towards Glumm, and almost, as he imagined, led him aside purposely! “But it seems to me, Ada, that, however pressing a man’s business may be, woman has the power to delay it.”
 
“Nay, then, if thine is indeed so pressing just now,” said Ada, with a toss of the head (which Glumm, who walked behind with Hilda, took particular note of), “I will not presume to—”
 
“Now, Ada,” said Erling, with a light laugh, “thou knowest that it is merely waste of time to affect indignation. I know thee too well to be deceived. Come, what is it that ye would consult me about? not the forging of a battle-axe or spear-head, I warrant me.”
 
“Nay, but a portion of armour scarce less important, though not so deadly. What say you to a sword-belt?”
 
“Well, I am somewhat skilled in such gear.”
 
“I am ornamenting one for a friend of thine, Erling, but I will not tell his name unless I have thy promise not to mention to him anything about our conversation.”
 
“I promise,” said Erling, with an amused glance.
 
“It is for Glumm.”
 
“For Glumm!” repeated Erling in surprise; “does Glumm then know—”
 
“Know what?” asked Ada, as Erling stopped abruptly.
 
“Does he know that thou art making this belt for him?”
 
“Know it? why, how could it be a secret if he knew it?”
 
“Ah, true, I—well?”
 
“Besides,” continued Ada, “I am not making it; I said I was going to ornament it. Now it is with reference to that I would consult thee.”
 
Here Ada became so deeply absorbed in the mysteries of ornamental armour that she constrained Erling at least to appear interested, although, poor man, his heart was behind him, and he had much difficulty in resisting the desire to turn round when he heard Hilda’s voice—which, by the way, was heard pretty constantly, for Glumm was so uncommonly gruff and monosyllabic in his replies that she had most of the talking to herself.
 
This unpleasant state of things might have lasted a considerable time, had not the party reached the path which diverged to the left, and, crossing the river over a narrow bridge composed of two tall trees thrown across, led to Glummstede. Here Erling stopped suddenly, and wheeling round, said:
 
“I regret that we cannot go farther down the dale to-day, as Glumm and I must fare with all speed to the Springs to meet King Harald.”
 
“I trust thine errand is one of peace?” said Hilda in a slightly anxious tone.
 
“To judge by their looks,” said Ada, glancing expressively at Glumm, “I should say that their intentions were warlike!”
 
“Despite our looks,” replied Erling, with a laugh, “our business with the King is of a peaceful nature, and as it is pressing, ye will excuse us if—”
 
“Oh! it is pressing, after all,” cried Ada; “come, sister, let us not delay them.”
 
So saying, she hurried away with her friend, and the two youths strode on to Glummstede in a very unenviable frame of mind.
 
Having refreshed themselves with several cuts of fresh salmon—drawn that morning from the foaming river—and with a deep horn of home-brewed ale, the young warriors mounted a couple of active horses, and rode up the mountain path that led in a zigzag direction over the fells to the valley of the Springs. They rode in silence at first—partly because the nature of the track compelled them to advance in single file, and partly because each was in the worst possible humour of which his nature was capable, while each felt indignant at the other, although neither could have said that his friend had been guilty of any definable sin.
 
It may here be mentioned in passing, that Glumm had clothed and armed himself much in the same fashion as his companion, the chief difference being that his helmet was of polished steel, and the centre of his shield was painted red, while that of Erling was white. His only offensive weapons were a dagger and the long two-handed sword which had been forged for him by his friend, which latter was slung across his back.
 
An hour and a half of steady climbing brought the youths to the level summit of the hills, where, after giving their steeds a few minutes to breathe, they set off at a sharp gallop. Here they rode side by side, but the rough nature of the ground rendered it necessary to ride with care, so that conversation, although possible, was not, in the circumstances, very desirable. The silence, therefore, was maintained all the way across the fells. When they came to descend on the other side they were again obliged to advance in single file, so that the silence remained unbroken until they reached the base of the mountains.
 
Here Erling’s spirit revived a little, and he began to realise the absurdity of the conduct of himself and his friend.
 
“Why, Glumm,” he exclaimed at last, “a dumb spirit must have got hold of us! What possesses thee, man?”
 
“Truly it takes two to make a conversation,” said Glumm sulkily.
 
“That is as thou sayest, friend, yet I am not aware that I refused to talk with thee,” retorted Erling.
 
“Nor I with thee,” said Glumm sharply, “and thy tongue was glib enough when ye talked with Ada in Horlingdal.”
 
A light flashed upon Erling as his friend spoke.
 
“Why, Glumm,” he said lightly, “a pretty girl will make most men’s tongues wag whether they will or no.”
 
Glumm remembered his own obstinate silence while walking with Hilda, and deeming this a studied insult he became furious, reined up and said:
 
“Come, Erling, if ye wish to settle this dispute at once we need fear no interruption, and here is a piece of level sward.”
 
“Nay, man, be not so hot,” said Erling, with a smile that still more exasperated his companion; “besides, is it fair to challenge me to fight with this light weapon while thou bearest a sword so long and deadly?”
 
“That shall be no bar,” cried the other, unslinging his two-handed sword; “thou canst use it thyself, and I will content me with thine.”
 
“And pray, how shall we give account of our mission,” said Erling, “if you and I cut each other’s heads off before fulfilling it?”
 
“That would then concern us little,” said Glumm.
 
“Nay, thou art more selfish than I thought thee, friend. For my part, I would not that she should think me so regardless of her welfare as to leave undelivered a message that may be the means of preventing the ruin of Horlingdal. My regard for Ada seems to sit more heavily on me than on thee.”
 
At this Glumm became still more furious. He leaped off his horse, drew his sword, and flinging it down with the hilt towards Erling, cried in a voice of suppressed passion:
 
“No longer will I submit to be trifled with by man or woman. Choose thy weapon, Erling. This matter shall be settled now and here, and the one who wins her shall prove him worthy of her by riding forth from this plain alone. If thou art bent on equal combat we can fall to with staves cut from yonder tree, or, for the matter of that, we can make shift to settle it with our knives. What! has woman’s love unmanned thee?”
 
At this Erling leaped out of the saddle, and drew his sword.
 
“Take up thy weapon, Glumm, and guard thee. But before we begin, perhaps it would be well to ask for whose hand it is that we fight.”
 
“Have we not been talking just now of Ada the Dark-eyed?” said Glumm sternly, as he took up his sword and threw himself into a posture of defence, with the energetic action of a man thoroughly in earnest.
 
“Then is our combat uncalled for,” said Erling, lowering his point,............