CHAPTER XIII

FREY MAKES READY TO GO HIS ROUNDS

By slow degrees the winter wore away; the clouds broke up, and the thick snow-fleece was pitted all over as if it had been a blanket which moths had fretted. The days drew out longer; men looked up, feeling the sun; the thatches began to drip, and then to run, and to dig for themselves deep channels in the snow. Then began roof-slides by broad blocks at a time, and a man might be buried in slush before he knew it.

Sigrid said that they must make ready Frey's wagon for the road, and told Gunnar where it was stored and asked him to fetch it out. As soon as the buds began to swell on the trees they must be off. Gunnar was glad of some work, and soon had the wagon out of the shedding and haled it into the forecourt.

This wagon was a gaudy affair, being painted all over in red, blue and yellow. The wheels were red and so was the pole. White oxen drew it, which had red trappings and brazen stars on their foreheads. Upright poles at the four corners of the wagon carried a wooden canopy, and held rods also for the curtains which shut Frey off from mortal eyes until such times as he would appear and, having been propitiated with offerings, suffer himself to be carried into the fields. These curtains Sigrid was now busy over. They were green and had dragons, the sun, the moon and stars, and runes also sewn upon them, of red and white colours. The inside of the tent which these curtains made was a fair chamber. In the forepart Frey stood when he was travelling; in the afterpart was his bed where he lay at night. But the parts were not divided off. There was no bed-chamber for him as he had in his winter house. The men who went with the wagon, and tended the oxen, must lie out in the open to sleep, or in the sacking slung beneath where the beast-fodder was carried.

Gunnar thought that he would have no men to help him, and Sigrid said, "Oh no, we want no others. With you to help all will go well."

"You trust me, I see," said Gunnar, and Sigrid looked at him with friendly eyes.

"How should I not? Are you not the trustiest of men?"

"If you were not so kind to me," he told her, "perhaps I should not be so trusty. And it may be that we should both be the better for it. But I have a soft heart, and you have found that out."

"I know nothing for your heart," she said. "That is the last thing that I know about you."

"So be it," said Gunnar. "Now tell me what you wish to be at with this wonderful affair."

It did not suit her very well just then to be talking of the wagon, so she crossed her knee and clasped it with her hands. "The heart of a man is like the snow just now, I think. It is quickly melted where the sun strikes it or the rain falls upon it. It is easy to make a dint in it. But below that there is ice. In small matters a man will be kind enough; but there may be great matters which may break themselves to pieces against him before he will be moved."

Gunnar made no answer, but busied himself examining the wagon. He broke a bubble of paint with his thumb, and said, "Look at that now. There's bad workmanship for you."

"It is exactly the contrary with women," said Sigrid. "A girl's heart is like a spring which is guarded by overhanging snow and a thin film of ice. The first thaw breaks that through, and the water wells up warm. But the film, while it remains there, is respectable; for it denotes that the spring beneath is to be guarded from defiling hands."

Gunnar was very busy. He ran his hand up and down the pole. "The man who painted this machine," he said, "was a botcher. He has never so much as planed this pole. It is as rough as an earl's tongue. Just you feel it, sweetheart."

She was offended. "If you don't care to listen to me, I don't care either to observe your wagon. It is a strange way to woo a sweetheart to have her in contempt."

"My dear one," said Gunnar--and now he looked at her--"it is true that you know nothing of a man's heart, which moves him to do things rather than to talk about them. And this wagon is not mine, but Frey's, and I am to work upon it by your desire."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Ah," she said, "do I not know whose wagon it is? Is this a time to remind me of it?" Gunnar looked quickly about him. Nobody was by. So then he went to Sigrid, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't cry, pretty one," he said, "otherwise there will be the mischief between Frey and me." Then he kissed her; and that was the first time that ever he did it, strange as it may appear. She sat very still, and all drawn up into a bunch, as if she felt chilly, which she did for a minute. Then she went into Frey's house and stayed there for a good time. Gunnar shook his head, and went to fetch the tools that he needed for cleaning the paint off the wagon.

He took a long time over it, and was very happy to be so busy. He cleaned off all the old paint, which was many coats thick, and smoothed the wood to his fancy. Then he set to work with new colours and was at it many days from dawn to dusk. It began to look very splendid, with a green ground, and yellow wheels and pole, and with flowers, trees, birds and beasts upon all that in blue, red and white. He painted also the sky and the sun and rivers winding among meadows. Then he had the sea, with ships upon it, because Sigrid did not know what the sea was like. And he wrote runes all round the panels of the wagon, sayings such as were common in his country, such as Bare is Back without Brother Behind it, and so on.

Sigrid was much the better for being kissed, though she was very careful not to say so. She thought that Gunnar would not perceive it, but he