Feats on the Fiord Part 8

The traveller, who she had hoped was now some way up the mountain, was standing on the margin of the tarn, immediately opposite to her.

She sat up, and took her bundle and her lure, believing now that she must accept the unwelcome civility of an escort for the whole of the rest of the way, and thinking that she might as well make haste and get it over. The man approached and took his seat on the huge stone beside her, crossed his arms, made no greeting, but looked her full in the face.

She did not know the face, nor was it like any that she had ever seen.

There was such long hair, and so much beard, that the eyes seemed the only feature which made any distinct impression. Erica's heart now began to beat violently. Though wis.h.i.+ng to be alone, she had not dreamed of being afraid till now; but now it occurred to her that she was seeing the rarest of sights--one not seen twice in a century, no other than the mountain-demon.

She sprang to her feet, and began to wade back through the high gra.s.s to the pathway, almost expecting to be seized by a strong hand and cast into the unfathomable tarn, whose waters were said to well up from the centre of the earth. Her companion, however, merely walked by her side. As he did not offer to carry her bundle, he could be no countryman of hers.

They walked quietly on till the tarn was left some way behind. Erica found she was not to die that way. Presently after, she came in sight of a settlement of Lapps--a cl.u.s.ter of low and dirty tents, round which some tame reindeer were feeding. Erica was not sorry to see these, though no one knew better than she the helpless cowardice of these people; and it was not easy to say what a.s.sistance they could afford against the mountain-demon. Yet they were human beings, and would appear in answer to a cry. She involuntarily s.h.i.+fted her lure, to be ready to utter a call. The stranger stopped to look at the distant tents, and Erica went on at the same pace. He presently overtook her, and pointed towards the Lapps with an inquiring look. Erica only nodded.

"Why you no speak?" growled the stranger in broken language.

"Because I have nothing to say," declared Erica, in the sudden vivacity inspired by the discovery that this was probably no demon. Her doubts were renewed, however, by the next question.

"Is the bishop coming?"

Now, none were supposed to have a deeper interest in the holy bishop's travels than the evil spirits of any region through which he was to pa.s.s.

"Yes, he is coming," replied Erica. "Are you afraid of him?"

The stranger burst into a loud laugh at her question: and very like a mocking fiend he looked, as his thick beard parted to show his wide mouth, with its two ranges of teeth. When he finished laughing, he said, "No, no--we no fear bishop."

"'We!'" repeated Erica to herself. "He speaks for his tribe as well as himself."

"We no fear bishop," said the stranger, still laughing. "You no fear----" and he pointed to the long stretch of path--the prodigious ascent before them.

Erica said there was nothing to fear on the mountain for those who did their duty to the powers, as it was her intention to do. Her first Gammel cheese was to be for him whose due it was, and it should be the best she could make.

This speech she thought would suit, whatever might be the nature of her companion. If it was the demon, she could do no more to please him than promise him his cheese.

Her companion seemed not to understand or attend to what she said.

When Erica saw that she had no demon for a companion, but only a foreigner, she was so much relieved as not to be afraid at all.

The stranger pointed to the tiny cove in which Erlingsen's farm might be seen, looking no bigger than an infant's toy, and said--

"Do you leave an enemy there, or is Hund now your friend?"

"Hund is n.o.body's friend, unless he happens to be yours," Erica replied, perceiving at once that her companion belonged to the pirates.

"Hund is everybody's enemy; and, above all, he is an enemy to himself.

He is a wretched man."

"The bishop will cure that," said the stranger. "He is coward enough to call in the bishop to cure all. When comes the bishop?"

"Next week."

"What day, and what hour?"

Erica did not choose to gratify so close a curiosity as this. She did not reply; and while silent, was not sorry to hear the distant sound of cattle-bells--and Erlingsen's cattle-bells too. The stranger did not seem to notice the sound, even though quickening his pace to suit Erica's, who pressed on faster when she believed protection was at hand. And yet the next thing the stranger said brought her to a full stop. He said he thought a part of Hund's business with the bishop would be to get him to disenchant the fiord, so that boats might not be spirited away almost before men's eyes, and that a rower and his skiff might not sink like lead one day, and the man may be heard the second day, and seen the third, so that there was no satisfactory knowledge as to whether he was really dead. Erica stopped, and her eager looks made the inquiry which her lips could not speak. Her eagerness put her companion on his guard, and he would explain no further than by saying that the fiord was certainly enchanted, and that strange tales were circulating all round its sh.o.r.es, very striking to a stranger; a stranger had nothing more to do with the wonders of a country than to listen to them. He wanted to turn the conversation back to Hund.

Having found out that he was at Erlingsen's, he next tried to discover what he had said and done since his arrival. Erica told the little there was to tell--that he seemed full of sorrow and remorse. She told this in hope of a further explanation about drowned men being seen alive, but the stranger stopped when the bells were heard again, and a woman's voice singing, nearer still. He complimented Erica on her courage, and turned to go back the way he came, and walked away rapidly.

The only thing now to be done was to run forwards. Erica forgot heat, weariness, and the safety of her property, and ran on towards the singing voice. In five minutes she found the singer, Frolich, lying along the ground and picking cloud-berries, with which she was filling her basket for supper.

"Where is Erlingsen?--quick--quick!" cried Erica.

"My father? You may just see him with your good eyes--up there."

And Frolich pointed to a patch of verdure on a slope high up the mountain, where the gazer might just discern that there were hayc.o.c.ks standing, and two or three moving figures beside them.

"Stiorna is there to-day, besides Jan. They hope to finish this evening," said Frolich; "and so here I am, all alone; and I am glad you have come to help me to have a good supper ready for them. Their hunger will beat all my berry-gathering."

"You are alone!" said Erica, discovering that it was well that the pirate had turned back when he did. "You alone, and gathering berries, instead of having an eye on the cattle!"

"But why are your hands empty?" asked Frolich. "Who is to lend you clothes? And what will the cows say to your leaving your lure behind, when you know they like it so much better than Stiorna's?"

Erica returned for her bundle and lure; and then proceeded to an eminence where two or three of her cows were grazing, and there sounded her lure. She put her whole strength to it, in hope that others besides the cattle might appear in answer, for she was really anxious to see her master.

The peculiar and far from musical sounds spread wide over the pastures and up the slopes, and through the distant woods, so that the cattle of another seater stood to listen, and her own cows began to move, leaving the sweetest tufts of gra.s.s and rising up from their couches in the richest herbage, to converge towards the point whence she called. The far-off herdsman observed to his fellow that there was a new call among the pastures; and Erlingsen, on the upland, desired Jan and Stiorna to finish c.o.c.king the hay, and began his descent to his seater, to learn whether Erica had brought any news from home.

Long before he could appear, Frolich threw herself down at Erica's feet.

"You want news," said Erica, avoiding as usual all conversation about her superst.i.tions. "How will it please you that the bishop is coming?"

"Very much, if we had any chance of seeing him. Very much, whether we see him or not, if he can give any help--any advice. My poor Erica, I do not like to ask; but you have had no good news, I fear."

Erica shook her head.

"I saw that in your face in a moment. Do not speak about it till you tell my father. He may help you, I cannot; so do not tell me anything."

Erica was glad to take her at her word. She kissed Frolich's hand, which lay on her knee, in token of thanks, and then inquired whether any Gammel cheese was made yet.

"No," said Frolich, inwardly sighing for news. "We have the whey, but not sweet cream enough till after this evening's milking. So you are just in time."

Erica was glad, as she could not otherwise have been sure of the demon having his due.

"There is your father," said Erica. "Now do go and gather more berries, Frolich. There are not half enough."

It may be supposed that Erlingsen was anxious to be at home when he had heard Erica's story. He was not to be detained by any promise of berries and cream for supper. He put away the thought even of his hay, yet unfinished on the upland, and would hear nothing that Frolich had to say of his fatigue at the end of a long working day. He took some provision with him, drank off a gla.s.s of corn-brandy, and set off at a good pace down the mountain.

Scarcely a word was spoken (though the mountain-dairies have the reputation of being the merriest places in the world), till Erica and Frolich were about their cheese-making the next morning. Erica had rather have kept the cattle; but Frolich so earnestly begged that she would let Stiorna do that, as she could not destroy the cattle in her ill-humour, while she might easily spoil the cheese, that Erica put away her knitting, tied on her ap.r.o.n, tucked up her sleeves, and prepared for the great work.

"Frolich," said Erica, "is the cream good?"

"Stiorna would say that the demon will smack his lips over it. Come and taste."

"Do not speak so, dear."