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
did. Her eyes were larger and softer; her colour was higher; she was
quieter in her ways, not so restless, and certainly not so testy. She
used to sit contentedly with her curtains while he worked at his
painting, and could now admire what he did. She talked no more about the
difference between a man's heart and a woman's, perhaps because she knew
more. It was not hard to discern these changes in her.
"This wagon," said Gunnar, "is a paragon. It is my masterpiece." The
time had come when all was done, even to the hangings of Frey's bed, and
the containing boards of the same.
"Now, sweetheart," said he, "it is for you to consider whether we shall
not give your lord a lick of paint. To my eye he would be the better for
it, but you know his fancy better than I do."
She said shortly, "He is well enough." She could not bear his jokes
about Frey just now.
"He is not then," said Gunnar. "He will look shabby in his new wagon.
Just try him for yourself and see."
She was most unwilling, but yet she allowed him to put Frey up in the
forepart of the wain.
"Look at him," said Gunnar. "Look at the brown blur upon his neck; and
see how smeared his cheeks are. There is no shine left. To my thinking
he is failing in one eye. It is like the eye of a dead fish. There
should be new gilding on his cone. Strange how a new wagon shows him
up."
She was not looking at Frey at all; but when Gunnar had him down in the
court and was about to take his clothes off, she sprang forward with
flaming cheeks and dangerous eyes. "I dare you to touch him."
Gunnar stood. "As you please," he said. "It is nothing to me. Let him go
bleary to his work."
She shifted about and paced the court uneasily. "He is very well as he
is. If anything is to be done to him I will do it."
"As you please," said Gunnar again, and left the court. He went out
into the forest where the birds were singing. He looked to see if any
were nesting yet, and was away three or four hours.
When he came back Frey was in his house again, and he examined what
Sigrid had done. She had washed him; Gunnar thought he looked sadly
bleached about the chaps, and there were flaws in his beard. His neck
was pinker. She had tried to repaint his right eye.
While he was looking at Frey Sigrid came in. She was flushed, and
prepared to be angry in a moment.
"I suppose you think I have made matters worse," she said.
"What do you think yourself?" he asked her.
"He will do well enough," she answered. But he told her, "You have not
helped his eye-works. He is looking two ways at once."
"It is what you would say."
"It is what I do say," he answered, "because it is true."
"I know what you think of him," she cried out sharply. "You have no need
to tell me."
Gunnar replied: "He looked shabby before, and in want of a lick; but you
have made him look like a boiled goose."
Sigrid was seriously vexed. She looked as if she was all over spines,
like a teasel. But the worst of it was, that she knew he was right, as
well as he did himself. Meantime Gunnar walked comfortably about, by and
large, while she stood opening and shutting her hands.
"You are hard to please," she said at last, in a dry voice. "Yet I do
think that I have mishandled his right eye. Perhaps you will mend it for
me."
"Ah," said Gunnar, "and for him too I will mend it, though he has no
liking for me. Look at him, I ask you, from where you stand, and then
from where I do. Whereas his eyes used to follow us about to see what
we were doing, now he sees nothing of us at all. Kindly look for
yourself."
She did as he told her. She examined Frey very carefully from where she
stood and then crossed the floor and stood by Gunnar, but looked at
Frey.
"Well?" said Gunnar.
Her answer was not in words, but she looked up at Gunnar with a faint
smile. So then he kissed her again, and that kiss was a long one and
lasted some time.
"Frey cannot see," she said presently, "and it is my fault. Mend his eye
for me."
"Why," said Gunnar, "do you want him to see us?"
She said, "Not always--but sometimes it doesn't matter."
Gunnar said that he would put his eye right, and, more than that, he
would freshen him up altogether. He pointed out many flaws in his
painting.
Sigrid was not in the mood to deny him anything just now. She agreed
readily, and was going away. But she came back again.
"Promise me one thing," she said.
"I will promise you a dozen things," said Gunnar.
"One only. It is that you will only paint what you can see."
Gunnar, who was very quick, said, "I will obey you; but in that case you
must cover him in a blanket, lest I spoil his clothes."
She brought him a blanket, and left him. Gunnar put Frey's eye in order,
and touched up his cheeks and scarlet nostrils for him. He sized the
cone for gilding, and put a tinge more red into his beard.
Then he looked at him with his head on one side and one eye shut. "You
are a fine figure of a god, Frey. We are something alike, I believe. But
for all that I see that you don't love me."
He was at the end of the room as he stood; but for all that Frey had
him in view, and looked furious.
After that there was nothing to do but wait the moment when Frey should
start on his rounds.