“Then you never discovered the men who had wounded you?” asked Orm.
“I discovered them,” replied Toke, “for they could not keep their mouths shut, but had to boast of the deed to their women; so that the story came out and became known through the whole district. They were called Alf and Steinar, insolent fellows of good family, nephews of Ossur the Braggart, who was helmsman in Berse’s ship, that fellow who was always boasting that on his mother’s side he was descended from King Alf Woman’s Darling of Möre. I learned that they were the culprits while I was still in bed from my wounds. Then, as I lay there, I vowed that I would never enjoy ale nor woman before I had killed them both; and, whether you believe it or not, I kept that vow. As soon as I was upon my feet again, I was out after them every day; and at last I came upon them one day, just as they were wading ashore from fishing. I almost wept with joy when I saw them step on to the land; and there, sword in hand, the three of us fought until I killed Steinar. Then the other fellow fled, with me at his heels. It was a beautiful race, well run by us both, through groves and fields among herds at pasture and across the meadows toward his father’s house. He was a nimble-footed man, and was running for his life; but I was running for his life too, as well as to purge myself of my shame and of the great longing I had to be free of my vow. A short way from the house I caught him as my heart seemed to be about to burst, and cleft him to the teeth in the sight of his harvesters; and never have I felt so good as when I saw him there, lying on the ground at my feet. I went home with a merry heart and drank ale for the rest of the day and told my woman that our troubles were over. But this, as it turned out, was not so.”
“What troubles could you have left, after such a fine revenge?” asked Orm.
“The people of the district, my friends no less than my enemies,” said Toke darkly, “could not forget the circumstances in which I had received my wound, and there was no end to the mock they made of me. I had supposed that my revenge would put a stop to all this, seeing that I had killed both of the men singlehanded in fair fight; but this seemed to make little impression on their foolish minds. More than once I and Red-Jowl had to rid men of the habit of hiding their faces behind their hands when I appeared; but even this helped little, and soon I found myself scarcely able to endure the most solemn countenances, because I knew what lay behind their gravity. I composed an excellent poem about my slaying of Alf and Steinar, but soon discovered that there were already three poems in circulation describing the circumstances in which I had been wounded, and that in every house people were laughing themselves crooked every time they heard them. Then I realized that I would never be able to live down the shame of this incident; so I took my woman and everything else that I possessed, and journeyed up through the great forests until I came to Värend, where I have kinsmen. There I bought a house and have dwelt contentedly ever since, being now a richer man than when I arrived first, thanks to the good skin-trade. I have three sons, all of whom promise well, and a daughter, whose suitors will be hewing hard at one another before many years have passed. But never until this evening have I told anyone the reason for my leaving Lister. Only to you, Orm, and to you, little priest, have I told these things, because I know I can trust you both never to repeat them to a living soul. For should you do so, I would once again become a public butt, even though four years have now passed since this catastrophe occurred.”
Orm praised Toke for the way in which he had told his story, and assured him that he need have no fears about anyone hearing it from his lips. “I should like,” he added, “to hear these poems that were written about you; but no man enjoys repeating lampoons directed against himself.”
Father Willibald emptied his cup, and announced that stories of this kind, dealing with feuds and jealousies, with spear-thrusts delivered in this place or that, revenge and lampoons and the like, gave him little pleasure, whatever Orm’s attitude toward them might be.
“And you can be sure of this, Toke,” he said, “that I shall not run around gossiping to people of such matters, for I have more important things to tell them. If, though, you are a man who is willing to learn from events, you may yet gain some profit from this distressing experience. From the little I saw of you in King Harald’s castle, and from what Orm has told me about you, I know you to be a bold and fearless man, sure of yourself, and merry in your disposition. But in spite of all this, you have only to undergo some misfortune that causes foolish people to laugh at you, and you at once become cowardly and downhearted, so that you had to flee from your home district as soon as you found that you could not bully your enemies into silence. We Christians are more fortunate, for we do not care what men think of us, but only what God thinks. I am an old man and have little strength left in my bones; nevertheless, I am stronger than you, for no man can scare me with mockery, because I care not a jot for it. He who has God behind his back flinches from no man’s ridicule; and all their smirks and gossipings trouble him not at all.”
“Those are wise words,” said Orm, “and worth pondering; for, be sure of this, Toke, that this priest possesses more wisdom in his small head than we in our large ones, and it is always a good thing to mark his words.”
“I see that the ale is beginning to work on you both,” said Toke, “for you would not address such nonsense to me if you were sober. Is it in your mind, little priest, to try to make me a Christian?”
“It is,” retorted Father Willibald purposefully.
“Then you have set yourself a difficult task,” said Toke, “and one that will cause you more trouble than all the other religious duties you have ever performed.”
“It would be no shame for you to turn Christian,” said Orm, “when you consider that I have been one for these five years. I am not less merry than of old, nor has my hand weakened, and I have never had cause to complain about my luck since the day I received baptism.”
“All that may be true,” said Toke, “but you are not a skin-trader, as I am. No skin-trader can afford to be a Christian in this land; it would arouse distrust in the minds of all my customers. If he changes his gods, the Virds would say, who can rely on him in other matters? No, no. For our friendship’s sake, I would do much for you, Orm, and for you too, little priest; but this I will not do. Besides which, it would drive my woman, Mirah, crazy, for she retains this characteristic of her countrymen, that she hates Christians above all things else; and, to my way of thinking, her humor is brittle enough already, without whetting it with ideas such as this. It is therefore useless for you to try to convert me, little priest, though I am your friend and hope to remain so.”
Even Father Willibald could find no good answer to this argument; and Orm yawned, and said that the night was growing old and that it was time to seek sleep. They parted from Toke with many expressions of friendship; he and Orm were delighted with their luck at having once again found each other, and vowed to meet often in the future.
Orm and Father Willibald walked back to their camp. There all was peace and stillness, and in the moonshine men lay snoring under ribbons of pale smoke from the dying fires. But one of Orm’s men was sitting awake, and he lifted his head as they approached.