Feats on the Fiord Part 13

They did not heed the time, as they talked and talked; and Rolf was just telling how he had more than once seen a double sun without finding any remarkable consequences follow, when Stiorna came forth with her milk pails just before four o'clock. She started and dropped one of her pails when she saw who was sitting on the bench, and Erica started no less at the thought of how completely she had forgotten the cattle and the underground people all this time. The herd was all safe, however--every cow as large as life, and looking exactly like itself, so that the good fortune of this Midsummer Eve had been perfect.

The appearance of Stiorna reminded the lovers that it was time to begin the business of the morning. They startled Stiorna with the news that a large company was coming to breakfast. Being in no very amiable temper towards happy lovers, she refused after a moment's thought to believe what they said, and sat down sulking to her task of milking.

So Rolf proceeded to rouse Jan, and Erica stepped to Frolich's bedside, and waked her with a kiss.

"Erica! No, can it be?" said the active girl, up in a moment. "You look too happy to be Erica."

"Erica never was so happy before, dear, that is the reason. You were right, Frolich--bless your kind heart for it! Rolf was not dead. He is here."

Frolich gallopaded round the room, like one crazy, before proceeding to dress.

"Whenever you like to stop," said Erica, laughing, "I have some good news for you too."

"I am to go and see the bishop!" cried Frolich, clapping her hands, and whirling round on one foot like an opera-dancer.

"Not so, Frolich."

"There now! you promise me good news, and then you won't let me go and see the bishop when you know that is the only thing in the world I want or wish for!"

"Would it not be a great compliment to you, and save you a great deal of trouble, if the bishop were to come here to see you?"

"Ah! that would be a pretty sight! The Bishop of Tronyem over the ankles in the sodden, trodden pasture--sticking in the mud of Sulitelma! The Bishop of Tronyem sleeping upon hay in the loft, and eating his dinner off a wooden platter! That would be the most wonderful sight that Nordland ever saw."

"Prepare, then, to see the Bishop of Tronyem drink his morning coffee out of a wooden bowl. Meantime, I must go and grind his coffee.

Seriously, Frolich, you must make haste to dress and help. The pirates want to carry off the bishop for ransom. Erlingsen is raising the country. Hund is coming here as a prisoner, and the bishop, and my mistress, and Orga, to be safe; and if you do not help me I shall have nothing ready, for Stiorna does not like the news."

Never had Frolich dressed more quickly. She thought it very hard that the bishop should see her when she had nothing but her dairy dress to wear, but she was ready all the sooner for this. Erica consoled her with her belief that the bishop was the last person who could be supposed to make a point of a silk gown for a mountain maiden.

A consultation about the arrangements was held before the door by the four who were in a good humour, for Stiorna remained aloof. This, like other mountain dwellings, was a mere sleeping and eating shed, only calculated for a bare shelter at night, at meals, and from occasional rain. There was no apartment at the seater in which the bishop could hold an audience, out of the way of the cooking and other household transactions. It could not be expected of him to sit on the bench outside, or on the gra.s.s, like the people of the establishment; for, unaccustomed as he was to spend his days in the open air, his eyes would be blinded, and his face blistered by the sun. The young people cast their eyes on the pine wood as the fittest summer parlour for him, if it could be provided with seats.

Erica sprang forward to prevent any one from entering the wood till she should have seen what state the place was in on this particular morning. No trees had been felled, and no branches cut since the night before, and the axes remained where they had been hung. The demon had not wanted them, it seemed, and there was no fear of intruding upon him now. So the two young men set to work to raise a semicircular range of turf seats in the pleasantest part of the shady grove. The central seat, which was raised above the rest, and had a foot-stool, was well cushioned with dry and soft moss, and the rough bark was cut from the trunk of the tree against which it was built, so that the stem served as a comfortable back to the chair. Rolf tried the seat when finished, and as he leaned back, feasting his eyes on the vast sunny landscape which was to be seen between the trees of the grove, he declared that it was infinitely better to sit here than in the bishop's stall in Tronyem Cathedral.

All being done now for which a strong man was wanted, Rolf declared that he and Jan must be gone to the farm. Not a man could be spared from the sh.o.r.es of the fiord till the affairs of the pirates should be settled. Erica ought to have expected to hear this, but her cheek grew white as it was told. She spoke no word of objection, however, seeing plainly what her lover's duty was.

She turned towards the dairy when he was gone, instead of indulging herself with watching him down the mountain. She was busy skimming bowl after bowl of rich milk, when Frolich ran in to say that Stiorna had dressed herself, and put up her bundle, and was setting forth homewards to see, as she said, the truth of things there--which meant, of course, to learn Hund's condition and prospects. It was now necessary to tell her that she would presently see Hund brought up to the seater a prisoner, and that the farm was no place for any but fighting men this day. To save her feelings and temper, Erica asked her to watch the herd, leading them to a point whence she could soonest see the expected company mounting the uplands.

[Ill.u.s.tration: It was Hund, with his feet tied under his horse, and the bridle held by a man on each side.]

Presently there were voices heard from the hill above. Some traveller who had met the budstick had reported the proceedings below, and the news had spread to a northern seater. The men had gone down to the fiord, and here were the women with above a gallon of strawberries, fresh gathered, and a score of plovers' eggs. Next appeared a pony, coming westward over the pasture, laden with panniers containing a tender kid, a packet of spices, a jar of preserved cherries, and a few of the present season, early ripe, and a stone bottle of ant vinegar.

Frolich's spirits rose higher and higher, as more people came from below, sent by Rolf on his way down. A deputation of Lapps came from the tents, bringing reindeer venison, and half of a fine Gammel cheese.

Before Erica had had time to pour out a gla.s.s of corn-brandy for each of this dwarfish party, in token of thanks, and because it is considered unlucky to send away Lapps without a treat, other mountain dwellers came with offerings of various wild fowl, so that the dresser was loaded with game enough to feed half a hundred hungry men.

Erica and Frolich returned to their breakfast-table, to make the new arrangements now necessary, and place the fruit, and spices. Erica closely examined the piece of Gammel cheese brought by the Lapps, and then, with glowing cheeks, called Frolich to her.

"What now?" said Frolich. "Have you found a way of telling fortunes with the hard cheese, as some pretend to do with the soft curds?"

"Look here," said Erica. "What stamp is this? The cheese has been sc.r.a.ped--almost pared, you see, but they have left one little corner.

And whose stamp is there?"

"Ours," said Frolich coolly. "This is the cheese you laid out on the ridge last night."

"I believe it. I see it," exclaimed Erica.

"Now, dear Erica, do not let us have the old story of your being frightened about what the demon will say and do. n.o.body but you will be surprised that the Lapps help themselves with good things that lie strewing the ground."

To Frolich's delight and surprise she appeared too busy--or was rather, perhaps, too happy--to lament this mischance, as she would formerly have done. Just when a youth from the highest pasture on Sulitelma had come running and panting, to present Frolich with a handful of fringed pinks and blue gentian, plucked from the very edge of the glacier, so that their colours were reflected in the ice, Stiorna appeared in haste to tell that a party on horseback and on foot were winding out of the ravine, and coming straight up over the pasture. All was now certainty, and great was the bustle to put out of sight all unseemly tokens of preparation. In the midst of the hurry Frolich found time to twist some of her pretty flowers into her pretty hair, so that it might easily chance that the bishop would not miss her silk gown.

The bishop's reputation preceded him, as is usual in such cases. As his horse, followed by those which bore the ladies, reached the house door, all present cried--

"Welcome to the mountain!" "Welcome to Sulitelma!"

The bishop observed that, often as he had wished to look abroad from Sulitelma, and to see with his own eyes what life at the seaters was like, he should have grown old without the desire being gratified but for the design of the enemy upon him. It was all he could do to go the rounds of his diocese, from station to station below, without thinking of journeys of pleasure. Yet here he was on Sulitelma!

When he and M. Kollsen and the ladies had dismounted, and were entering the house to breakfast, the gazers found leisure to observe the hindmost of the train of riders. It was Hund, with his feet tied under his horse, and the bridle held by a man on each side. He had seen and heard too much of the preparations against the enemy to be allowed to remain below, or at large anywhere, till the attack should be over. He could not dismount till some one untied his legs; and no one would do that till a safe place could be found in which to confine him. It was an awkward situation enough, sitting there bound before everybody's eyes; and not the less for Stiorna's leaning her head against the horse, and crying at seeing him so treated; and yet Hund had often been seen, on small occasions, to look far more black and miserable. His face now was almost cheerful. Stiorna praised this as a sign of bravery; but the truth was, the party had been met by Rolf and Jan going down the mountain. It was no longer possible to take Rolf for a ghost; and though Hund was as far as possible from understanding the matter, he was unspeakably relieved to find that he had not the death of his rival to answer for. It made his countenance almost gay to think of this, even while stared at by men, women, and children as a prisoner.

"What is it?" whimpered Stiorna--"what are you a prisoner for, Hund?"

"Ask them that know," said Hund. "I thought at first that it was on Rolf's account; and now that they see with their own eyes that Rolf is safe they best know what they have to bring against me."

"It is no secret," said Madame Erlingsen. "Hund was seen with the pirates, acting with and a.s.sisting them, when they committed various acts of thievery on the sh.o.r.es of the fiord. If the pirates are taken, Hund will be tried with them for robberies at There's, Kyril's, Tank's, and other places along the sh.o.r.e, about which information has been given by a witness."

"There's, Kyril's, and Tank's!" repeated Hund to himself; "then there must be magic in the case. I could have sworn that not an eye on earth witnessed the doings there. If Rolf turns out to be the witness, I shall be certain that he has the powers of the region to help him."

So little is robbery to be dreaded at the seaters, that there really was no place where Hund could be fastened in--no lock upon any door--not a window from which he might not escape. The zealous neighbours, therefore, whose interest it was to detain him, offered to take it in turn to be beside him, his right arm tied to the left of another man. And thus it was settled.

When the bishop came forth in the afternoon to take his seat in the shade of the wood, those who were there a.s.sembled were singing _For Norge_. Instead of permitting them to stop, on account of his arrival, he joined in the song; solely because his heart was in it. As he looked around him, and saw deep shades and sunny uplands, blue glaciers above, green pastures and glittering waters below, and all around, herds on every hillside, he felt his love of old Norway, and his thankfulness for being one of her sons, as warm as that of any one of the singers in the wood. Out of the fulness of his heart, the good bishop addressed his companions on the goodness of G.o.d in creating such a land, and placing them in it, with their happiness so far in their own hands as that little worthy of being called evil could befall them, except through faults of their own. M. Kollsen, who had before uttered his complaints of the superst.i.tion of his flock, hoped that his bishop was now about to attack the mischief vigorously.

The bishop only took his seat--the mossy seat prepared for him--and declared himself to be now at the service of any who wished to consult or converse with him. Instead of thrusting his own opinions and reproofs upon them, as it was M. Kollsen's wont to do, he waited for the people to open their minds to him in their own way; and by this means, whatever he found occasion to say had double influence from coming naturally. The words dropped by him that day were not forgotten through long years after; and he was quoted half a century after he had been in his grave, as old Ulla had quoted the good Bishop of Tronyem of her day.

In a few hours, many of the people were gone for the present, some being wanted at home, and others for the expected affair on the fiord.

The bishop and M. Kollsen had thought themselves alone in their shady retreat, when they saw Erica lingering near among the trees. With a kind smile, the bishop beckoned to her, and bade her sit down, and tell him whether he had not been right in promising a while ago that G.o.d would soothe her sorrows with time, as is the plan of His kind providence. He remembered well the story of the death of her mother.

Erica replied that not only had her grief been soothed, but that she was now so blessed that her heart was burdened with its grat.i.tude.

"I wish," said Erica, with a sigh--"I do wish I knew what to think about Nipen."

"Ay! here it comes," observed M. Kollsen, folding his arms as if for an argument.

Encouraged by the bishop, Erica told the whole story of the last few months, from the night of Oddo's prank to that which found her at the feet of her friend; for she cast herself down at the bishop's feet, sitting as she had done in her childhood, looking up in his face.

"You want to know what I think of all this?" said the bishop, when she had done. "I think that you could hardly help believing as you have believed, amidst these strange circ.u.mstances, and with your mind full of the common accounts of Nipen. Yet I do not believe there is any such spirit as Nipen, or any demon in the forest, or on the mountain.

"This is one of the many tales belonging to the old religion of this country. And how did this old religion arise? Why, the people saw grand spectacles every day, and heard wonders whichever way they turned; and they supposed that the whole universe was alive. The sun as it travelled they thought was alive, and kind and good to men. The tempest they thought was alive, and angry with men. The fire and frost they thought were alive, pleased to make sport with them."

"As people who ought to know better," observed M. Kollsen, "now think the wind is alive, and call it Nipen; or the mist of the lake and river, which they call the sprite Uldra."

"It is true," said the bishop, "that we now have better knowledge, and see that the earth, and all that is in it, is made and moved by one Good Spirit, who, instead of sporting with men, or being angry with them, rules all things for their good. But I am not surprised that some of the old stories remain, and are believed in still, and by good and dutiful Christians too. The mother sings the old songs over the cradle, and the child hears tell of sprites and demons before it hears of the good G.o.d, who 'sends forth the snow and rain, the hail and vapour, and the stormy winds fulfilling His word.' And when the child is grown to be a man or woman, the northern lights shooting over the sky, and the sighing of the winds in the pine forest, bring back those old songs and old thoughts about demons and sprites, and the stoutest man trembles. I do not wonder, nor do I blame any man or woman for this, though I wish they were as happy as the weakest infant or the most worn-out old man, who has learned from the gentle Jesus to fear nothing at any time, because His Father was with Him."

Erica hid her face, ashamed under the good man's smile.