17 Chapter 17

As soon as Leif received Thorvard's message, he returned to the house of Ulf and Brunhild. The message was short, lacking details - all he knew was that Freydis had been found, and this was enough to dispel his worst fears. She is alive, and she wasn't taken by the king's men, and he and his family are safe from the throne's wrath! But a dull worry still gnawed at his heart, and when he was told of all that had happened, his breath was caught in his throat with fury that was only slightly alleviated when he heard how Svein Einarson had found his death.

"That bastard!" he cried out in anger. "If only I had known, I would have arrived at once, and we could have gotten rid of him together!"

"I could not wait," said Thorvard. "It was my responsibility, after all. It happened close to my family's lands."

Leif looked at his friend intently. A deep weariness was apparent in his face, and together with it something different, not quite so easy to define.

On the day of Leif's arrival the household men received a surprise which was not very gratifying to either Leif or Thorvard. Vidar, a distant cousin of Brunhild's, came for an extended visit together with his two daughters, Aslaug and Ingvild.

"Now of all times?" Thorvard asked his uncle with quiet vexation. "This is your house, Uncle, of course - but was there no way to postpone this visit, at least until the leave-taking of Leif and... his relations?"

"Vidar did not bother to send me notice of his coming, Thorvard," Ulf replief placidly. "But even if he had, I could not have refused him. Not after I pressed him so strongly to come, a mere few months ago. Just think how awkward that would have been!"

"Why did you press him so?" Leif was curious.

"Vidar's daughters are very good-looking, sensible girls," said Ulf. "His wife had died a few years ago, and now that his daughters have reached the age to marry, the responsibility for finding suitable matches for them lies entirely upon Vidar's shoulders. I believe we have an understanding, which is yet unspoken, that it might be good if his daughters married our Stein and Bjorn, or to begin with, if the young people got to see more of each other. Do not worry. Vidar is our relation, he will not complicate the situation by asking unnecessary questions."

When Leif came to see Freydis, he tried with all his might to harden his heart and drive away pity, though that was hard to do at the sight of his sister's face - it was plain to see how much she had suffered. She was alerted of his coming, and received him without surprise, but pressed his hand more warmly than usual.

"I have been expecting you, Leif."

"I hardly dared to hope I would find you here upon my return," said Leif, "though Thorvard had promised me he would look for you and keep you hidden."

"I assume that was the reason why he did not kill me or just leave me behind to die," remarked Freydis.

"Be that as it may, he brought you here."

"Yes."

"He could walk out of that hut, say he found no one, and no one would have been any the wiser, is it not so?"

"It is."

"You know," mused Leif, "he has acted very generously. You acknowledge that, do you not?"

"Yes," she paused, "I hate it."

"If it were you in his stead, if you had found him hurt and helpless, you would kick him in the ribs, laugh and go on your own way, would you not?"

She rolled her eyes derisively and did not bother to answer. You know me well, that gesture plainly said.

"You have always been an evil, unprincipled creature," said Leif. "And the years during which there was no one to keep you in check only made these qualities of your character more prominent."

"I love you too, brother."

"I know," he said.

"You believe I got what I deserved for getting involved with them... with him? Right?"

Leif pondered this for a few moments. "I would not go that far, perhaps," he finally said. "Perhaps not what you deserved, but - so I believe - what you could expect. Those were dangerous men. Ingvar Haraldson is a snake who values your life about as much as the dirt on the soles of his boots, and Svein Einarson was simply evil. Thorvard had avenged you. I hope you understand what you owe him now."

"I owe him nothing!" snarled Freydis. "I saved his life as well, or has no one told you? We are equal now."

But even as she said these words, she knew it was not the same. "I hope you came to take me away from here," she changed the subject.

"Not quite so soon," Leif shook his head. "The rumour we had spread is that you are visiting your aunt and intend to stay there for a while. If you appear in Trondheim anytime soon, it will raise suspicions."

"I will go by myself, then, if you will not take me," insisted Freydis. "I do not need your help."

"Truly?" Leif smiled bitterly. "What, do you have another scheme that will get you into even deeper trouble? Not that I believe you can do worse than you already had. I still find it hard to believe you actually planned to crown Father and push him into direct confrontation with Norway!"

"It was a reckless plan, not outlined well enough," acknowledged Freydis, "but the general idea was brilliant."

"No," said Leif, "it was pure folly, from start to finish."

"You have no vision, Leif."

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but I have responsibility."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and to talk of something else he asked with slight hesitation:

"Were you allowed to see Sygni?"

"Yes," said Freydis, "Dalla arranged it so that I can see her sometimes."

Dalla, thought Leif. She of all people. "Why are you in such a hurry to get away from your daughter again, then? Where else do you have to go in Norway before we sail home?"

Freydis said nothing. Actually, she knew, they both knew she no longer has any place to hurry to; she has nowhere to go. In the past, it seemed to her that disconnecting herself from all whom she loved was a fit price to pay for being able to make her own way. But now it looked as though the way she had tried to follow disappeared, vanished, and she remained in the midst of a dark forest, alone. Always alone.

Later, Leif shared a glass of beer with Ulf while the main hall was readied for a feast in honor of the guests.

"I thank you," Leif said warmly, "for your hospitality, Ulf. Our lives were all saved thanks to your kindness and help. And Thorvard... I do not know how to even begin thanking him. I owe him my life, my honor, my freedom... everything... and so does Freydis. Even she has to admit that."

"We all love Thorvard like another son," replied Ulf. "Did you think we could stand aside when his closest friend is in need of help? No matter what my opinion of your sister is, it was obvious she had to be concealed from the king's men. For your sake, for that of your mother and father, and perhaps for your entire settlement as well."

"Throughout the years, Freydis has tried to make herself seem as a supremely powerful witch," told Leif, "while in fact, she is merely a woman led into blindness and folly by her own ambition. Her influence on Thorvard was too strong, and the miserable consequences of that are known to us all. I wish she had not messed up so badly."

The older man sighed. "Would that she had not," he agreed.

"I told her to be ready for the feast soon," added Leif, "I hope this does not clash with your plans."

A shadow of a doubt passed upon Ulf's face. "I... I suppose so. Vidar will stay with us for a while, and we will not be able to conceal your sister's being here anyway. He had better see her at once, ask what he might, as awkward as his questions can be, and have done with it."

At the feast it did not seem as if there is any strain or awkwardness, though. The lads were quite happy to sit next to their fair cousins, but Vidar seemed even more gratified than the young people. He sat on Freydis's right, and made every effort to get her involved in lively conversation.

"No, I am not often away from home," he told. "The lands owned by my family are extensive and need constant care and supervision. It is a beautiful area - a pity that you aren't familiar with it. The forests and fjords are so lovely, even in the midst of winter. The land is fertile and there are good places to hunt, and in season the salmon practically leap from the rivers and into our hands."

All Freydis had to do was nod, smile, and say a word now and then. For the first time in a long time, she felt almost at peace. It has been a while since anyone talked to her this way, simply, without an ulterior motive. It was as if she entered, for a little while, to a thin stretch of regular life, something she hasn't had for years.

She took no notice of how Thorvard observed them from the corner of his eye. He did so even when he appeared completely absorbed in the food laid out in front of him. He saw how Vidar's eyes lit up when they first rested upon Freydis, and how they sparkled during their conversation. My kinsman can be justified, he thought. The years did not dim her beauty in the least. He, himself, never ceased to admire the loveliness of her figure, slender but endowed with all the womanly curves, her fiery red hair and her almond-shaped eyes, one blue as the waters of a still fjord, and another black as a winter's night, her lovely features, the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. While he was prevented by the sheer bulk of his body to move as soundlessly as he wished during a hunt, she possessed the talent of appearing soundlessly as if from thin air, silent as a shadow. She was strong and merciless as a wild cat, and when she took a sword in hand - how much he hated that! - fearsome in the face of an enemy as well.

He knew her in tender moments too, though. There was one stream where she liked to go alone, and in the overgrowth near it he used to hide and watch her in secret. When their love blossomed, she took him there herself and confessed that she had known of his coming for a long time now. The memory woke an unintended blush in his face and he shook his head, trying to dispel the unwanted memory.

He looked at Vidar's daughters, too. They were sitting together with all the young ones. They looked like their father, tall and well-built, with a good-natured expression upon their handsome faces. Yes, it would certainly be a good thing for any of Ulf's boys to gain such a bride.

"So, Vidar," Leif spoke while the two of them happened to sit together on the second night after the arrival of the guests. "Are you passing your time here pleasantly?"

"Yes, very much so," Vidar nodded warmly. He was a handsome, impressive man, almost as tall as Thorvard, though not so wide in the shoulders. "It is always good to strengthen family times, and it appears these ties will grow even stronger if my daughters make the right choice... so I hope, anyway. And I wished to ask you..."

"Yes?" prompted Leif.

"Your sister and Thorvard... they had been married, I know. But their separation is final, is it not?"

Leif gave him a long, calculating stare, and recalled that Vidar has been a widower for a while now.

"Everybody knows of their separation," he said cautiously, and when he saw the satisfied expression upon Vidar's face, thought to himself that some very interesting proceedings might develop here.

"The moon is very bright tonight," said Vidar, "but not as bright as the beauty of the one beside me."

She smiled, and very becomingly arranged a strand of red hair that got loose. "You do not speak in earnest, Vidar."

They were sitting outside the house. The night was cold, it was true, but there was no snow, and they both felt the need for a break from the smoke, noise, laughter and beer fumes of the main hall.

"This is not a compliment for its own sake," insisted Vidar. "I cannot find the words to describe how pleased I am that we had met. I always say what I think, and I think that you are an incredible woman. I have never met anyone like you before."

"You hardly know me," protested Freydis, not at all displeased.

"That is true," he readily admitted. "There is an air of mystery around you, a wall of secrecy I wish to break through. I want to get to know you. I want to know everything about you."

She glanced at him quickly. "Are you certain?" she asked.

"I believe I know what you mean," said Vidar. "I am not stupid, you know. I have heard rumours about you, and I know you did not live the quiet life that was expected of a daughter whose father owns a piece of land at the furthermost corner of the world. I mean, if it weren't so..." he fell into an awkward silence.

"If it were not so, I would not have separated from my husband," Freydis went on boldly. He nodded, relieved.

"I have no intention to offend you," said Vidar. "All I want is to understand you, even if it takes some time. I am fascinated by everything that concerns you."

"What is it that you heard of me?" asked Freydis.

"Many things only a few of which, I am certain, are true. There are those who describe you as evil itself, and now that I have met you, of course I cannot believe it. You are a woman who has her own opinions, no doubt. Determined, certainly. Ambitious, it can be easily surmised. But from here to blood-chilling descriptions of terrible sorcery..."

"Ah," Freydis cut across him. "Sorcery. I did learn the Hidden Arts, that is not a lie."

"It still doesn't justify all the bitter, unrestrained tongues of people. I want to hear your story from your own lips. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow. When you are ready."

Was this not what she so longed for during all this time - a chance to show the other side of the coin, her own side? But suddenly Freydis felt too weary for speech. She bent her head and said quietly:

"I made many mistakes, Vidar."

"As did we all, isn't that so?" he encouraged her with a gentle smile.

"Not every mistake is as irrevocable and has as bitter consequences as mine."

"Do not distress yourself," he said. "The last thing I want is to press you to speak and explain more than you feel like at this moment. I simply wanted to tell you one thing."

"Which thing?"

He hesitated briefly. "It is never too late to start over."

She looked at him, and in her face a painful, silent doubt could be plainly seen.

"Do you truly think so?"

"Yes," he smiled, "of course I do."

One of the few comforts for Freydis in all this terrible time were the moments snatched away with her daughter, Sygni. This is a gift I do not deserve, admitted Freydis - a gift she received, unfittingly, thanks to Dalla, that sweet girl who was planning to marry the man Freydis had loved so much once. It will all be done soon, she thought. It pained her to see the look in her daughter's eyes, the look of a small girl looking unceasingly for a true mother who would be a loving, stable presence in her life. Well, as far as that is concerned, she had failed miserably. This task will fit Dalla much better.

Despite all that had happened, thought Freydis, despite all the circumstances of my arrival here, I will be forever grateful for the chance to see my daughter. She could stay no longer, though; could not stay in an atmosphere of suspicious hostility, among those who had never trusted her - and the one who had loved her once. She cannot stay, not even for Sygni.

Where would she go? She asked this of herself, and could give no satisfactory answer. Perhaps to Trondheim together with Leif, perhaps to the home of her aunt Ingvild... and when spring comes, she will sail, of course, to Brattahlid - there, at least, she can be of help to her father, and spend her days in useful work that perhaps might take the edge ever so slightly off the sorrow and regret that will be her constant companions for the rest of her life.

"Would that it did not have to be this way," she heard a voice that came as if from outside, a soft, innocent voice.

"I wish it did not have to be this way," the murmurs of her heart said in reply.

Leif, who was well aware of the awkwardness in his sister's presence under the roof of Ulf and Brunhild, settled with her that they would leave together with the guests, in the morning after the leave-taking feast, and travel together to Trondheim, where she will be reunited with her mother and may begin to prepare for the journey back home. On the day of the feast, Leif approached Freydis and pulled her aside, so that no one may overhear them. For some mysterious reason, he looked quite pleased.

"Well, little sister," he declared, "I don't know whether you are aware of this, but I have heard some very interesting rumours."

"I know," she replied, "it is attempted to be kept in secret, but almost everybody already know that tonight a betrothal will be announced. It looks like Stein succeeded, after all, in his conquest of Aslaug's heart."

"Ah, that, of course," Leif brushed her words aside with a negligent gesture. "Well, as you said, it's already known. But that is not all. As far as I know, it may very well be that another betrothal is declared tonight."

She looked at him in surprise. "Another betrothal? But Vidar said that his younger daughter..."

"Not the girl, my dear sister," Leif said with a sprakle in his eye. "I know for certain that tonight, before the guests say a grateful goodbye to their hosts, Vidar intends to ask you to join him and take his hand in marriage. This is an extraordinary bit of news, is it not?"

Freydis could not reply at once, and only looked at him in amazement. Actually, on second thought, she wasn't certain whether she is supposed to be astonished by her brother's words, or by the fact that she didn't foresee this herself. After all, it could not be denied that Vidar had turned into her shadow all during their stay under the same roof. They sat together, ate together, walked together, spoke of anything and everything in the world. She enjoyed his company, more than she had enjoyed anyone else's company in the past two years... but, of course, that had been a time of such great lonelines...

"So what do you have to say to that?" her brother pressed. "It appears you might have a future after all, Freydis. This would be a great opportunity, wouldn't it? A new beginning for you. A chance to leave behind all the foolish mistakes of the past. Vidar is completely charmed by you and will do anything for you. And I appreciate him. He is generous, loyal, well-respected and, above all, not stupid. He is a man you might esteem, otherwise I wouldn't think it is a good idea for you to marry him. You might start a family, be a honorable woman, and this time I hope you will not be foolish enough to lose everything. You can remain in Norway, in a distant province of course, but it would not be like Brattahlid. There, you would never be the mistress in your own right. It might be," the bright expression of his face was dimmed for some reason, "that I might even become your husband's good-brother - Vidar had told me that she has a lovely sister, a childless widow and not at all portionless, whose husband of a few months was killed during one of his journeys to Iceland. Ever since, her family has been looking for someone to marry her and give her children, and I might just be up to the task."

"You, Leif?" she was completely amazed. "Do you mean to say that you began seriously considering marriage, and of all possible matches, with a woman you had never even seen?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. "As you had said many times yourself, it must happen sooner or later. I am tired of passing adventures, and Vidar's sister sounds like someone who might be just right for me - good-looking, healthy, kind-natured and sensible."

Besides, Leif added to himself, besides, what does it matter anyway, if the woman he truly wants can never belong to him? This might be a disappointment with which he will have to live for the rest of his life, but this does not mean he intends to bury himself alive. He will make himself smile and go on and maybe, just maybe, everybody will be a little bit happier.

Freydis, meanwhile, attempted to digest what Leif had told her. He is right, of course. This is a fabulous opportunity, the perfect chance to begin anew, probably the only chance she will ever have.

She attempted to imagine Vidar, with his big strong body and handsome face, standing very close to her. She tried to imagine him kissing her, to picture herself undressing in front of him and letting him touch her, take her... the thought did not exactly repulse her, but the notion was simply so ridiculous that she could not suppress a weary smile.

"What?" Leif looked confused. "What amuses you so? And more to the point, what are you going to tell Vidar when he asks you?" he waited for her reply with a more somber expression than before.

"I do not know," she said honestly.

For a long moment, Leif looked at her until a hint of understanding appeared in his eyes, and an expression of both pity and disdain on his face.

"You two," he said, "are the biggest fools I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"Me and Vidar?"

"You know perfectly well whom I mean," he threw across his shoulder and moved away without another word.

Yes. She knew and he knew she knew, but she would rather cut her tongue out than say the words.

"Cousin Thorvard," Vidar caught up with him after the two of them walked out of the bathhouse, where they had scrubbed themselves clean shortly before the feast was due to begin, "do you have a few moments, so that we might talk in private?"

"Of course," said Thorvard, and the two men began to walk slowly down the narrow path which led to the barns, and which was currently empty but the two of them.

"You know that my daughter Aslaug has made her choice, and it seems we will have a betrothal," said Vidar once he was certain they could not be overheard by anyone of the household.

"Yes," said Thorvard. "I congratulate you. Stein looks very happy, and it appears they will make a good match."

"Aslaug comes home with me tomorrow, but tonight we will already announce the betrothal to everyone. The wedding itself will take place soon, so that the young ones can spend next winter in their own home."

"Well, I suppose you will want to discuss all the details with my uncle Ulf."

"Certainly," Vidar stopped, paused, as if looking for the right words. "Thorvard, I will be direct. I believe Aslaug is not the only one to have found her destiny beneath this roof."

Thorvard gave him his full attention and expected him to go on.

"You know I had lost my wife a long time ago," Vidar went on, "and it is not always easy to find a suitable bride to begin anew."

Thorvard nodded. He knew that, perhaps better of all.

"I have been alone for many years, but now I believe I found her."

And yet Thorvard was silent. He already knew what he would hear, but could not think of anything to say to make the situation less awkward.

"I speak of Freydis," Vidar finally said. "Cousin, you do not know how I long to find the correct words to say this, without offending you and causing bitter strife between us. I would never allow myself to try and make away with someone else's wife. But I know that you and Freydis have been long separated. That is why I take the liberty to ask - have you given up on your rights as her husband? Is she free, or is she not?"

As always, Thorvard's face was inscrutable, too hard to express any feeling. For about a minute he stood in silence, immersed in his thoughts. He looked at Vidar, as if trying to figure him out. The expression upon his kinsman's face was of sincere discomfort.

"One word from you," said Vidar, "and I will never speak to her again, nor raise the matter with you. I would never act dishonorably towards my own relation."

"Freydis belongs to me no longer," Thorvard finally said. "She rebelled against me and broke the bond between us. I have long given up on any connection I once had with her. She is free to do as she will and go with whomever she wants. I have no say in the matter."

Vidar studied his cousin's face with subtle scrutiny. This was the answer he had expected, the answer he had hoped for, but the tone of Thorvard's voice made him uncomfortable. His words were concealed by a thin coat of indifference, but one could not ignore the anger and pain underneath.

"And now forgive me, cousin," said Thorvard and began distancing himself from Vidar, "I still have a thing or two to take care of before the feast begins."

He might really have had some things to do, but Thorvard no longer remembered what they were when he moved away, to his private place of solitude, behind the water well and the barns. From there he could watch the endless emptiness of the barren winter fields.

He could no longer think of anything but his short conversation with Vidar.

This, then, is how it is going to end. In a way unexpected, yet fortunate for everyone involved. She knew he ought to feel pleased by the knowledge that soon, she will be far away. He tried to convince himself, tried to stem the outburst of irrational pain that caught at his heart and refused to let go. Again and again he told himself that it is ridiculous and humiliating to continue lusting after the one who had lied to him, used and manipulated him, betrayed him, mocked and humiliated him, threw away their love as a worthless old relic, and on top of it all, almost made him pay the price of his life for the mistake he made in trusting her.

And yet, he recalled with a blush of shame, he always had to make a great effort to subdue the tide of passion that always washed over him when she was around. It was never clear, it seemed, whether he should hit her or kiss her.

Now it will finally be over forever. And a good thing, too, he told himself.

Many times he wanted, and intended, to start over with a new wife. Since Freydis had returned to her father's house, new offers began to appear for him. Some of those came from parents of young and lovely maids, but he felt he could not give his heart to any of them. In fact, he only began to think of a second marriage as a material option when he came here and met Dalla - the pretty, good-hearted, sweet and gentle Dalla, whose mildness of way and manner reminded him of his own sister, Gudrid. Yes, here is a woman who will be a good and faithful wife, he told himself. And yet he hesitated. Something prevented him from going on to the next step - the next obvious, sensible step - and ask his uncle Ulf for his daughter's hand in marriage.

Eventually he came to the painful conclusion that, even if he attempts to erase the past and goes on as if nothing ever happened, no one can ever replace his wife. With her, every day was a new world, and without her it seemed as though time had stopped. She was fire and ice, she was a gushing river - compared to her, anyone else was a pool of insipid water.

How can he make her go away, no only from his life - that is relatively simple - but from his very being? She had gotten far deeper than just beneath his skin; she was the blood coursing through his veins, flesh of his flesh, soul of his soul. That powerful, uncontrollable bond which brought them together cannot be reproduced, nor shared with anyone else.

That, anyway, was the state of affairs for him.

That night, when he looked from the corner of his eye at Freydis and Vidar, who sat together at the feast, he wondered whether old Egil was right. Had he truly been too soft with her? He was blinded by love, he knew it. In his desperate attempt to keep their marriage from falling apart he forgot his conscience, his principles. He had been a toy in her hands for far too long. He refused to see her doubtful doings, her dangerous alliance with the Skraelings, her deep interest in the darkest sorcery. If he had seen it, and attempted to stop it, would that change anything? Would she have listened to him? Could he have prevented the death of those poor people in Vinland, the destruction of his marriage? Could he have made her see reason before it was too late? Could he have prevented the rape and bloodshed of not long ago?

He didn't know. He could not know, and was not even sure he wanted to.

He only knew it is too late now. He had done his duty by her while she was weak and desperate, and now the obvious path for both of them is healing, and a final parting of their ways. What else can he do? Get up from his seat, walk over to them, grab Vidar by the scruff of his neck, throw him aside and beg her to stay? That was impossible. He had taken too much of her mockery already. His former attempts to get closer to her again were met by rejection enough times to make him thoroughly absorb the message. She does not want him, and therefore he does not want her either, or at least this is what he must make everyone believe, if he wishes to save what is left of his pride.

No one could deny Freydis was especially beautiful that night. It looked as if the nightmare was finally beginning to dissipate for her. Her wounds were healed, a slight smile lifted up the corners of her mouths - and for a change, her it was free of mockery. She simply looked as if she was having a good time. She was wearing a long blue dress Leif had brought for her, and her red hair was pulled back by a silk band embroidered in golden thread.

"Who is that skald?" Throvard asked Dalla, frowning. "He has the voice of a goat."

"Does he displease you?" Dalla wondered. "He passed through these parts, and my father invited him in tonight. He is well-known by his love songs, and Father thought some of them are fitting for the occasion."

"The loud sighs he makes while singing sound as if we interrupted him in moments which had better be kept private," remarked Leif. Dalla and a few other young ones broke out in a fit of giggles. Thorvard gave no sign of hearing this and looked forward, creasing his brow. As much as he attempted to block out the singing, the words penetrated his mind.

The silver moonlight casts its glow upon your skin,

And a gentle kiss shows me the way.

Something in him revolted against singing such words in public. If at all, they are meant to be shared privately, in whispers, in a quiet corner that had turned for two fortunate ones into their own private haven.

He wished for this evening to be over soon.

He could do nothing but observe furtively how Vidar did not take his eyes off Freydis, how he sat by her since the beginning of the feast and poured her cup after cup of sweet mead, how leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear, how she nodded and got up and how they slipped together from the crowded, noisy hall and left the betrothal celebration behind.

Soon they will be back, Thorvard thought, and the festivities will double.

Outside, beneath a winter sky covered with clouds through which the silvery glow of the moon broke out from time to time, Freydis stood in front of Vidar and silently waited for what she already knew she must expect. He had asked her for a private conversation, and now she was looking at his good, handsome face. It has been so long since she saw what lit up in her eyes when they rested upon her.

"Freydis," he cleared his thorat. "I am not very eloquent when it comes to these things... it has been a long while since... but I cannot put this off any longer. Tomorrow we leave. I had not noticed how the time allotted for our visit had elapsed. It was all like a fleeting moment. I am very happy that we came now, of all times... very happy for the chance to meet you."

"I, too, was happy to get to know you, Vidar," Freydis said sincerely. "It has been a while since I could talk to anyone as I talked to you. I shall miss that."

"It doesn't have to end tonight," he lowered his voice, took hold of her hand and pressed it warmly, "or at all. Come with me, and we can begin a new life together. Just give me a chance to win your heart, and I swear you shall never regret this."

Freydis felt a prickle of regret for what must happen, but at the same time, a heavy burden rolled off her heart when she was enveloped by clarity such as she had never felt before. She shook her head, sadly but very resolutely.

"You have been very good to me, Vidar," she said. "Far more than I deserve, and I shall never forget you. But what you suggest is impossible."

"I have thought of everything," he added promptly, "to avoid an awkward situation. I even spoke to Thorvard already, and he said that as far as he is concerned, there can be no objection."

Freydis knew that in the darkness of the night he cannot notice her pallor, cannot see how the blood ran off her face and gushed towards her pain-constricted heart. As far as he is concerned, there can be no objection. Of course. No matter what she does, the divorce will soon be made final, and he will marry Dalla, who will make him a very suitable wife from every point of view.

An unspoken question appeared in Vidar's stare, but she knew he would not dare to say the words aloud.

"My heart cannot be won as if it were a trophy," she said, "it can only be had for a gift. I cannot bestow my love at will - it is out of my power. I know you had loved your wife, so perhaps you understand what I mean. I could never go with one who does not have my heart already," she paused for a moment, "even if it means I will be left alone for the rest of my life. Can you understand that?"

He nodded, swallowing his bitter disappointment.

"I understand," he said, and pressed her hand again, with warm friendship. "And it makes me appreciate you all the more."

"Farewell, Vidar," said Freydis. "It is almost certain we shall not meet again."

"I will be back soon, for Aslaug's wedding."

"I know," her voice shook slightly, "but I will never come here again."

Thorvard felt a hand on his shoulder and lifted his eyes from his cup without saying a thing. He was in no mood for talking. He saw Vidar before him, but to his surprise, the expression upon his cousin's face was far from the triumphant happiness he expected.

"My friend," he said, "my daughters and I leave tomorrow soon after daybreak, and I doubt I will have time to take my leave of you in a proper way, so I will do it now. The hospitality of our uncle Ulf, of everyone under this roof, was very gratifying. I look forward to seeing you again at the wedding of my daughter Aslaug."

He said nothing else and went on to resume his seat. Thorvard stared after him, trying to figure this out. Vidar spoke with liveliness, but it was certainly possible to notice a hint of disappointment in his voice, and his shoulders were slumped a little when he sat back at the table. It seemed as if he had wanted to add something else to what he said, and refrained from it at the last moment.

And Freydis did not return to the hall with him.

It could only mean one thing.

Without stopping to consider his move, Thorvard got up from his place and walked out of the hall. He didn't notice the stare of Dalla, the only one who noticed him leaving - a stare full of compassionate understanding. She had given up on him, and on her pride, long ago now. She understood that her silent, reserved cousin would not find healing for his soul in her arms.

Thorvard hastened his steps, still uncertain of what he intended to do or say, but determined to find her. She is going to leave tomorrow too, before the sun is up. Where would she spend her last hours in this place?

He found her at the edge of an open field, and her expression hit him hard when he approached. An empty, still stare, without regret or hope. Before she heard his footsteps he saw her with her head bent as if in prayer. Her hands clasped a small object, and finally she released it and let it fall upon the snow, where it sparkled in all the glory of black and gold. It was her amethyst ring. Then she made to go.

"Wait," said Thorvard, his voice low and hoarse. She turned around and froze. Her heart beat wildly, and like once, so many years ago, she could not move or say a thing, though he did not speak beyond one simple word.

"Do you leave tomorrow?" asked Thorvard. "Leif was vague about this when I asked him before the feast."

"Yes," she replied in a voice that did not shake, but he could not know what an effort that cost her. "We have lingered here far too long. Tomorrow we leave for Trondheim."

He stopped, took a breath, looking for the words. He was afraid to speak, but he had to know.

He had to know.

"Vidar is going too, but in the opposite direction," he said. "I thought that perhaps you and Leif might be joining him."

"No," she said simply.

"Why?" The word was almost a whisper.

She looked aside, but not before he had the time to notice that her eyes are full of tears. This astonished him. Only a few times before had he seen her cry. Freydis was an excellent manipulator, but she never succeeded in feigning tears. There was too much steely hardness in her. In both of them, perhaps.

When she finally spoke, her voice could be barely heard. "Did not Leif tell you that we are going straight to Trondheim?"

He said nothing in reply, but her eyes never left hers, and a question burned in them. He noticed a shadow of despair in her stare, as if her entire life depended on his next words. But he said nothing, and finally she looked aside.

When Thorvard woke the next day, he knew without asking that she was gone. Leif had left as early as possible, with expressions of deep gratitude, and took Freydis with him.