Hakon of Rogen's Saga by Erik Christian Haugaard

Author:Erik Christian Haugaard [Haugaard, Erik Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2013-09-01T07:00:00+00:00

11

I WAS SURPRISED and suspicious when my uncle, who had taken all my weapons from me, gave me back my bow and quiver of arrows and suggested that I should go hunting. Still, the pleasure of a day away from the hall was too attractive to be spurned, and I set out for the Mountain of the Sun, hoping that I might see little Helga along the way. I did not go directly to the other hall (the one which used to be my uncle’s home), because I had no wish to meet Eirik the Fox — between us no love was lost. But in my search for Helga I passed very near the outer buildings, which surrounded the hall. Helga was nowhere to be seen, but a man who was busy mending a fence greeted me by my name, Hakon Olafson, and I took this to be a good omen. It was a sign of respect, for Sigurd and his men never called me anything but Hakon the Orphan.

To be alone in nature, to be an animal among other animals, to feel the sun baking on your back and smell the earth and the grass. I forgot the past and had no thought for the future. I was the first man on earth, ageless as the gods.

I wanted to find the cave that Rark and Helga had hidden in when they had been hunted by Ulv Erikson. Rark had described it to me. It was located halfway up the southwestern slope of the Mountain of the Sun. Its entrance was narrow, almost blocked by a large boulder. Near the boulder grew two small birch trees.

There are many boulders and many birch trees on the Mountain of the Sun, and it was late, when I finally found the cave. The dark opening was so narrow that I had to squeeze myself through, but once inside, the cave was huge — as big as my father’s hall, if not bigger.

The light was very dim, but near the entrance, under some branches, I found a bow and some arrows and a sword. Rark had told me that he had hidden these weapons in the cave. The sword was a fine one. It had belonged to Thorkild the Mute, who had been killed by Ulv Erikson.

A cave attracts and repels you at the same time. It is an opening into the unknown: into a sunless and moonless world, where you might meet your most bitter dreams.

There are often deep holes in the floor of a cave. I had no fire, and I did not dare to explore it without light.

On the way home I hunted for hares, but my luck was not with me. By the foot of the Mountain of the Sun, I hid among some bushes, hoping that the hares would be tempted by the good grazing in front of my hiding place.

No hares came. It was growing late. The shadow of the mountain stretched out over the valley, and the evening breeze was chilly.

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