astisement.

But he said--

"Lay the scourge aside. Perchance the boy, who has always been a
heathenish worldly Saul, has become suddenly a Paul, through the grace
of the holy Columban. He shall have his wish. If he holds to it--then
it is a work of the saints. If his zeal flags, then it is a wile of
Satan, and he shall go out again to his sheep."

But I kept silence, and said nothing about the reason for which I
wished to learn.

And my zeal did not flag, and I learned Latin and Greek, and read all
the books that they had in the monastery, the Christian ones of the
church fathers, which they call theology, and many heathen ones, of the
old world wisdom, which they call philosophy.

And I soon perceived that often, in one church father, was found just
the contrary of what was in another church father.

And that Aristotle reviled Plato, and that Cicero tried to make sense
of it all, and could not.

And after that I, in three, four years, had read through all the books
which they had in the monastery, and had contended all night long with
all the monks in the monastery, I knew no more of that which I wished
to know than on the day when I had buried my dear father.

The old good-natured fat Abbot Aelfrik however--he was of noble race,
and had formerly been a warrior at the court of the Scottish King, and
loved me--often said to me,

"Give up these searchings Fridgifa"--for he willingly called me by my
heathen name when we were alone. "Thou must believe, not question. And
drink often, between whiles good ale or wine, and sing a song to the
harp"--for he had taught me harp playing, in which I had great delight,
and which he loved much, and everyone said that none could play the
harp like me in all Scotland; "and forget not either often to throw the
lance at the target in the monastery garden. Much book reading withers
the body."

And I remembered that my dear father's last words had been just the
same. And often and often I stole away to my dear father's hill,
brought forth the hammer, exercised myself in hammer throwing by star
light, and sat then for hours before the cavern, and listened to the
roar of wind, wood, and wave.

And now it often seemed to me as if, in such moods, I came nearer to
the truth than through all the books of the Christian priests, and
heathen philosophers.

And I almost believe I shall not stay much longer in the monastery.

Especially since, lately, a skald from Halogaland visited