Part 8

On her way homewards Erica remembered that this was Midsummer Eve--a season when her mother was in her thoughts more than at any other time; for Midsummer Eve is sacred in Norway to the wood-demon, whose victim she believed her mother to have been. Every woodman sticks his axe into a tree that night, that the demon may, if he pleases, begin the work of the year by felling trees or making a faggot. Erica hastened to the seater, to discover whether Erlingsen had left his axe behind, and whether Jan had one with him.

Jan had an axe, and remembering his duty, though tired and sleepy, was just going to the nearest pine-grove with it when Erica reached home. She seized Erlingsen's axe and went also, and stuck it in a tree, just within the verge of the grove, which was in that part a thicket, from the growth of underwood. This thicket was so near the back of the dairy that the two were home in five minutes. Yet they found Frolich almost as impatient as if they had been gone an hour. She asked whether their heathen worship was done at last, so that all might go to bed; or whether they were to be kept awake till midnight by more mummery?

Erica replied by showing that Jan was already gone to his loft over the shed, and begging leave to comb and curl Frolich's hair, and see her to rest at once. Stiorna was asleep; and Erica herself meant to watch the cattle this night. They lay crouched in the grass, all near each other, and within view, in the mild slanting sunshine; and here she intended to sit, on the bench outside the home-shed, and keep her eye on them till morning.

"You are thinking of the Bishop of Tronyem's cattle," said Frolich.

"I am, dear. This is Midsummer Eve, you know, when, as we think, all the spirits love to be abroad."

"You will die before your time, Erica," said the weary girl. "These spirits give you no rest of body or mind. What a day's work we have done! And now you are going to watch till twelve, one, two o'clock! I could not keep awake," she said, yawning, "if there was one demon at the head of the bed, and another at the foot, and the underground people running like mice all over the floor."

"Then go and sleep, dear. I will fetch your comb, if you will just keep an eye on the cattle for the moment I am gone."

As Erica combed Frolich's long fair hair, and admired its shine in the sunlight, and twisted it up behind, and curled it on each side, the weary girl leaned her head against her, and dropped asleep. When all was done, she just opened her eyes to find her way to bed, and say--

"You may as well go to bed comfortably; for you will certainly drop asleep here, if you don't there."

"Not with my pretty Spiel in sight. I would not lose my white heifer for seven nights' sleep. You will thank me when you find your cow, and all the rest, safe in the morning. Good-night, dear."

And Erica closed the door after her young mistress, and sat down on the bench outside, with her face towards the sun, her lure by her side, and her knitting in her hands. She was glad that the herd lay so that by keeping her eye on them she could watch that wonder of Midsummer night within the Arctic Circle, the dipping of the sun below the horizon, to appear again immediately. She had never been far enough to the north to see the sun complete its circle without disappearing at all; but she did not wish it. She thought the softening of the light which she was about to witness, and the speedy renewing of day, more wonderful and beautiful.

She sat, soothed by her employment and by the tranquillity of the scene, and free from fear. She had done her duty by the spirits of the mountain and the wood; and in case of the appearance of any object that she did not like, she could slip into the house in an instant. Her thoughts were therefore wholly Rolf's. She could endure now to contemplate a long life spent in doing honour to his memory by the industrious discharge of duty. She would watch over Peder, and receive his last breath--an office which should have been Rolf's. She would see another houseman arrive, and take possession of that house, and become betrothed, and marry; and no one, not even her watchful mistress should see a trace of repining in her countenance, or hear a tone of bitterness from her lips. However weary her heart might be, she would dance at every wedding--of fellow-servant or of young mistress. She would cloud nobody's happiness, but would do all she could to make Rolf's memory pleasant to those who had known him, and wished him well.

Her eyes rested on the lovely scene before her. From the elevation at which she was, it appeared as if the ocean swelled up into the very sky, so high was the horizon line; and between lay a vast region of rock and river, hill and dale, forest, fiord, and town, part in golden sunlight, part in deep shadow, but all, though bright as the skies could make it, silent as became the hour. As Erica found that she could glance at the sun itself without losing sight of the cattle, which still lay within her indirect vision, she carefully watched the descent of the orb, anxious to observe precisely when it should disappear, and how soon its golden spark would kindle up again from the waves. When its lower rim was just touching the waters, its circle seemed to be of an enormous size, and its whole mass to be flaming. Its appearance was very unlike that of the comparatively small, compact, brilliant luminary which rides the sky at noon. Erica was just thinking so, when a rustle in the thicket, within the pine grove, made her involuntarily turn her head in that direction. Instantly remembering that it was a common device of the underground people for one of them to make the watcher look away, in order that others might drive off the cattle, she resumed her duty, and gazed steadfastly at the herd. They were safe--neither reduced to the size of mice, nor wandering off, though she had let her eye glance away from them.

The sky, however, did not look itself. There were two suns in it. Now Erica really did quite forget the herd for some time, even her dear white heifer--while she stared bewildered at the spectacle before her eyes. There was one sun, the sun she had always known--half sunk in the sea, while above it hung another, round and complete, somewhat less bright perhaps, but as distinct and plain before her eyes as any object in heaven or earth had ever been. Her work dropped from her hands, as she covered her eyes for a moment. She started to her feet, and then looked again. It was still there, though the lower sun was almost gone. As she stood gazing, she once more heard the rustle in the wood. Though it crossed her mind that the wood-demon was doubtless there making choice of his axe and his tree, she could not move, and had not even a wish to take refuge in the house, so wonderful was his spectacle--the clearest instance of enchantment she had ever seen. Was it meant for good--a token that the coming year was to be a doubly bright one? If not, how was she to understand it?

"Erica!" cried a voice at this moment from the wood--a voice which thrilled her whole frame. "My Erica!"

She not only looked towards the wood now, but sprang forwards; but her eyes were so dazzled by having gazed at the sun that she could see nothing. Then she remembered how many forms the cunning demon could assume, and she turned back thinking how cruel it was to delude her with her lover's voice, when instead of his form she should doubtless see some horrid monster. She turned in haste, and laid her hand on the latch of the door, glancing once more at the horizon.

There was now no sun at all. The burnish was gone from every point of the landscape, and a mild twilight reigned.

One good omen had vanished; but there was still enchantment around, for again she heard the thrilling "Erica!"

There was no huge beast glaring through the pine stems, and trampling down the thicket; but instead, there was the figure of a man advancing from the shadow into the pasture. "Why do you take that form?" said the trembling girl, sinking down on the bench. "I had rather have seen you as a bear. Did you not find the axe? I laid it for you. Pray--pray, come no nearer."

"I must, my love, to show you that it is your own Rolf. Erica, do not let your superstition come for ever between us."

She held out her arms--she could not rise, though she strove to do so. Rolf sat beside her--she felt his kisses on her forehead--she felt his heart beat--she felt that not even a spirit could assume the very tones of that voice.

"Do forgive me," she murmured; "but it is Mid-summer Eve, and I felt so sure----"

"As sure of my being the demon as I am sure there is no cruel spirit here, though it is Midsummer Eve. Look, love! see how the day smiles upon us!"

And he pointed to where a golden star seemed to kindle on the edge of the sea. It was the sun again, rising after its few minutes of absence.

"I saw two just now," cried Erica--"two suns. Where are we, really? And how is all this? And where do you come from?"

And she gazed, still wistfully, doubtfully, in her lover's face.

"I will show you," said he, smiling. And while he still held her with one arm, lest in some sudden fancy she should fly him as a ghost, he used the other hand to empty his pockets of the beautiful shells he had brought, tossing them into her lap.

"Did you ever see such, Erica? I have been where they lie in heaps. Did you ever see such beauties?"

"I never did, Rolf; you have been at the bottom of the sea."

And once more she shrank from what she took for the grasp of a drowned man.

"Not to the bottom, love," replied he, still clasping her hand. "Our fiord is deep, perhaps as deep as they say. I dived as deep as a man may to come up with the breath in his body, but I could never find the bottom. Did I not tell you that I should go down as far as Vogel island, and that I should there be safe?"

"Yes! You did--you did!"

"Well! I went to Vogel island, and here I am safe!"

"It is you! We are together again!" she exclaimed, now in full belief. "Thank God! Thank God!" And she wept upon his shoulder.

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 grass, 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 shores 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.

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 glass 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 scraped--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. Nobody 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 assisting them, when they committed various acts of thievery on the shores 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 shore, 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 assembled 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 God 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 superstition of his flock, hoped that his bishop was now about to attack the mischief vigorously.