Now that the great occasion was come,--that brightest day of the year,--
the day of going to the seater, how unlike was it to all that the lovers
had imagined and planned! How unlike was the situation of the two!
There was Rolf, cooped up in a dim cave, his heart growing heavy as his
ear grew weary of the incessant dash and echo of the waters! And here
was Erica on the free mountain side, where all was silent, except the
occasional rattle of a brook over the stones, and the hum of a cloud of
summer flies. The lovers were alike in their unhappiness only: and
hardly in this, so much the most wretched of the two was Erica.
The sun was hot; and her path occasionally lay under rocks which
reflected the heat upon the passenger. She did not heed this, for the
aching of her heart. Then she had to pass through a swamp, whence
issued a host of mosquitoes, to annoy any who intruded upon their
domain. It just occurred to Erica that Rolf made her pass this place on
horseback last year, well veiled, and completely defended from these
stinging tormentors: but she did not heed them now. When, somewhat
higher up, she saw in the lofty distance a sunny slope of long grass
undulating in the wind, like the surface of a lake, tears sprang into
her eyes; for Rolf had said that when they came in sight of the waving
pasture, she would alight, and walk the rest of the way with him.
Instead of this, and instead of the gay procession from the farm,
musical with the singing of boys and girls, the lowing of the cows, and
the bleating of the kids, all rejoicing together at going to the
mountain, here she was alone, carrying a widowed heart, and wandering
with unwilling steps further and further from the spot where she had
last seen Rolf!
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and looked behind her, at the
entrance of a ravine which would hide her from the fiord and the
dwelling she had left. Thor islet lay like a fragment of the leafy
forest cast into the blue waters; but Vogel islet could not be seen. It
was not too far down to be seen from an elevation like this; but it was
hidden behind the promontories by which the fiord was contracted. Erica
could see what she next looked for,--knowing, as she did, precisely
where to look. She could see the two graves belonging to the
household,--the two hillocks which were railed in behind the house: but
she turned away sickening at the thought that Rolf could not even have a
grave; that that poor consolation was denied her. She looked behind her
no more; but made her way rapidly through the ravine,--the more rapidly
because she had seen a man ascending by the same path at no great
distance, and she had little inclination to be joined by a party of
wandering Laplanders, seeking a fresh pasture for their reindeer; still
less by any neighbour from the fiord, who might think civility required
that he should escort her to the seater. This wayfarer was walking at a
pace so much faster than hers, that he would soon pass; and she would
hide among the rocks beside the tarn [small lake upon a mountain] at the
head of the ravine till he had gone by.
It was refreshing to come out of the hot, steep ravine upon the grass at
the upper end of it. Such grass! A line of pathway was trodden in it
straight upwards, by those who had before ascended the mountain; but
Erica left this path, and turned to the right, to seek the tarn which
there lay hidden among the rocks. The herbage was knee-deep, and gay
with flowers,--with wild geranium, pansies, and especially with the
yellow blossoms which give its peculiar hue and flavour to the Gammel
cheese, and to the butter made in the mountain dairies of Norway.
Through this rich pasture Erica waded till she reached the tarn which
fed the stream that gambolled down the ravine. The death-cold
unfathomed waters lay calm and still under the shelter of the rocks
which nearly surrounded them. Even where crags did not rise abruptly
from the water, huge blocks were scattered; masses which seemed to have
lain so long as to have seen the springing herbage of a thousand
summers.
In the shadow of one of these blocks, Erica sank down into the grass.
There she, and her bundle, and her long lure were half-buried; and this,
at last, felt something like rest. Here she would remain long enough to
let the other wayfarer have a good start up the mountain; and by that
time she should be cool and tranquillised:--yes, tranquillised; for here
she could seek that peace which never failed when she sought it as
Christians may. She hid her face in the fragrant grass, and did not
look up again till the grief of her soul was stilled.--Then her eye and
her heart were open to the beauty of the place which she had made her
temple of worship; and she gazed around till she saw something that
surprised her. A reindeer stood on the ridge, his whole form, from his
branching head to his slender legs, being clearly marked against the
bright sky. He was not alone. He was the sentinel, set to watch on
behalf of several companions,--two or three being perched on ledges of
the rock, browsing,--one standing half-buried in the herbage of the
pasture, and one on the margin of the water, drinking as it would not
have dreamed of doing if the wind had not been in the wrong quarter for
letting him know how near the hidden Erica was.
This pretty sight was soon over. In a few moments the whole company
appeared to take flight at once, without her having stirred a muscle.
Away they went, with such speed and noiselessness that they appeared not
to touch the ground. From point to point of the rock they sprang, and
the last branchy head disappeared over the ridge, almost before Erica
could stand upright, to see all she could of them.
She soon discovered the cause of their alarm. She thought it could not
have been herself; and it was not. 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, so that the wind had carried the scent to
the herd. The traveller saw her at the same moment that she perceived
him; but Erica did not discover this, and sank down again into the
grass, hoping so to remain undisturbed. She could not thus observe what
his proceedings were; but her ear soon informed her that he was close
by. His feet were rustling in the grass.
She sat up, and took her bundle and 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, however, seemed in no hurry. Before she could rise, he
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 wishing 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. Sulitelma, as the highest mountain in
Norway, was thought to be his favourite haunt; and considering his
strange appearance, and his silence, it could hardly be other than
himself.
The test would be whether he would speak first; a test which she
resolved to try, though it was rather difficult to meet and return the
stare of such a neighbour without speaking. She could not keep this up
for more than a minute: so she sprang to her feet, rested her lure upon
her shoulder, took her bundle in her hand, and began to wade back
through the high grass to the pathway, almost expecting, when she
thought of her mother's fate, 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. There was not a peasant in Nordland who would not have had more
courtesy.
They walked quietly on till the tarn was left some way behind. Erica
found she was not to die that way. Presently after, they came in sight
of a settlement of Lapps,--a cluster 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 assistance they could afford
against the mountain-demon. Yet they were human beings, and would
appear in answer to a cry. She involuntarily shifted 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
pass.
"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. He
again asked if she was not afraid to travel alone in so dreary a place,
adding, that if his countrywomen were to be overtaken by a stranger like
him, on the wilds of a mountain, they would scream and fly; all which he
acted very vividly, by way of making out his imperfect speech, and
trying her courage at the same time.
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. She
said that nobody thought of being frightened in summer time in her
country. Winter was the time for that. When the days were long, so
that travellers knew their way, and when everybody was abroad, so that
you could not go far without meeting a friend, there was nothing to
fear.
"You go abroad to meet friends, and leave your enemy behind."
At the moment, he turned to look back. Erica could not now help
watching him, and she cast a glance homewards too. They were so high up
the mountain that the fiord and its shores were in full view; and
more;--for the river was seen in its windings from the very skirts of
the mountain to the fiord, and the town of Saltdalen standing on its
banks. In short, the whole landscape to the west lay before them, from
Sulitelma to the point of the horizon where the islands and rocks melted
into the sea.
The stranger had picked up an eagle's feather in his walk; and he now
pointed with it 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 nobody'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 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 shores--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.
"Stay," said Erica. "Do come to the dairy, now you are so near."
The man walked away rapidly.
"My master is here close at hand; he will be glad to see a stranger,"
she said, following him, with the feeling that her only chance of
hearing something of Rolf was departing. The stranger did not turn, but
only walked faster and with longer strides down the slope.
The only thing now to be done was to run forwards, and send a messenger
after him. 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 haycocks
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! Who has an eye on the cattle!"
[Note 1.]
"Why, no one," answered Frolich. "Come now, do not tease me with
bidding me remember the Bishop of Tronyem's cattle. The underground
people have something to do elsewhere to-day; they give no heed to us."
"We must give heed to them, however," said Erica. "Show me where the
cattle are, and I will collect them, and have an eye on them till supper
is ready."
"You shall do no such thing, Erica. You shall lie down here and pick
berries with me, and tell me the news. That will rest you and me at the
same time; for I am as tired of being alone as you can be of climbing
the mountain.--But why are your hands empty? 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 explained that her bundle and lure were lying on the grass, a
little way below; and Frolich sprang to her feet, saying that she would
fetch them presently. Erica stopped her, and told her she must not go:
nobody should go but herself. She could not answer to Erlingsen for
letting one of his children follow the steps of a pirate, who might
return at any moment.
Frolich had no longer any wish to go. She started off towards the
sleeping-shed, and never stopped till she had entered it, and driven a
provision-chest against the door, leaving Erica far behind.
Erica, indeed, was in no hurry to follow. She returned for her bundle
and lure: and then, uneasy about the cattle being left without an eye
upon them, and thus confided to the negligence of the underground
people, she 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 did 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 grass, 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 cocking 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 stole out trembling, and looking
round her at every step. When she saw Erica, she flew over the grass,
and threw herself down in it at Erica's feet.
"Where is he?" she whispered. "Has he come back?"
"I have not seen him. I dare say he is as far off by this time as the
Black Tarn, where I met with him."
"The Black Tarn! And do you mean that--no, you cannot mean that you
came all the way together from the Black Tarn hither. Did you run? Did
you fly? Did you shriek? Oh, what did you do?--with a pirate at your
heels!"
"By my side," said Erica. "We walked and talked."
"With a pirate! But how did you know it was a pirate? Did he tell you
so?"
"No: and at first I thought,"--and she sank her voice into a reverential
whisper,--"I thought for some time it was the demon of this place. When
I found it was only a pirate, I did not mind."
"Only a pirate! Did not mind!" exclaimed Frolich. "You are the
strangest girl! You are the most perverse creature! You think nothing
of a pirate walking at your elbow for miles, and you would make a slave
of yourself and me about these underground people, that my father laughs
at, and that nobody ever saw.--Ah! you say nothing aloud; but I know you
are saying in your own mind, `Remember the Bishop of Tronyem's cattle.'"
"You want news," said Erica, avoiding, as usual, all conversation about
her superstitions. "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, and you cannot be afraid of the
pirate, with your father within call. Now do go."
"You want me not to hear what you have to tell my father," said Frolich,
unwilling to depart.
"That is very true. I shall tell him nothing till you are out of
hearing; he can repeat to you what he pleases afterwards, and he will
indulge you all the more for your giving him a good supper."
"So he will, and I will fill his cup myself," observed Frolich. "He
says the corn-brandy is uncommonly good, and I will fill his cup till it
will not hold another drop."
"You will not reach his heart that way, Frolich. He knows to a drop
what his quantity is, and there he stops."
"I know where there are some manyberries [Note 2] ripe," said Frolich,
"and he likes them above all berries. They lie this way, at the edge of
the swamp, where the pirate will never think of coming."
And off she went, as Erica rose from the grass to curtsey to Erlingsen
on his approach.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. It is a popular belief in Norway that there is a race of
fairies or magicians living underground, who are very covetous of
cattle; and that, to gratify their taste for large herds and flocks,
they help themselves with such as graze on the mountains; making dwarfs
of them to enable them to enter crevices of the ground, in order to
descend to the subterranean pastures. This practice may be defeated, as
the Norwegian herdsman believes, by keeping his eye constantly on the
cattle.
A certain Bishop of Tronyem lost his cattle by the herdsmen having
looked away from them, beguiled by a spirit in the shape of a noble elk.
The herdsmen, looking towards their charge again, saw them reduced to
the size of mice, just vanishing through a crevice in the hill-side.
Hence the Norwegian proverb used to warn any one to look after his
property, "Remember the Bishop of Tronyem's cattle."
Note 2. The Molteboeer, or Manyberries, so called from its clustered
appearance. It is a delicious fruit, amber-coloured when ripe, and
growing in marshy ground.