From that day Gunnar began to grow short-tempered and particular. He found fault in everything; no one could please him. Once or twice, he even shouted at Ulf. In fact, one evening just before we were to leave he became so unpleasant that I left the house to sit outside on a stump in the yard so that I might eat my meal in peace without his complaining. I was enjoying the warm evening and the long northern twilight, saying vespers aloud to myself when I became aware that someone had crept up beside me.
I opened my eyes and raised my head to see Ylva standing over me with her hands clasped, as mine had been, in an attitude of prayer.
"You are singing again to your god, heya?" she observed.
"Yes."
"Perhaps this god of yours would help our Gunnar."
I did not know what to say to this, so I merely agreed. "Perhaps."
"Something preys on Gunnar's mind," she declared quietly. She knelt down in the grass beside the stump. "He is worried about the theng. He fears it will go ill with him there."
I turned to look at her face in the soft dusky light. It was a beautiful face in its way, fine-featured and good-natured, with deep brown eyes and a small, straight nose. Her long braids were still neat after a whole day's labour. She smoothed her mantle with her hands. Her clothing carried the scent of the kitchen.
"Tell me about this-this theng," I suggested.
"It is the theng," she answered. "It is a…" she hesitated, thinking how best to describe it, "a place where jarls and free men go to talk."
"A council." I drew a circle in the air.
"Heya," she nodded brightly, "it is a talking-ring."
"Has Gunnar any purpose-ah, no, that is not right." I thought for a moment. "Reason! Has he any reason to fear this council?"
She shook her head, peering at her hands in her lap. "None that I know. Always before, he welcomes the theng. Every day everyone drinks the king's ol and gets drunk. It is enjoyable for them, I think."
"Ylva," I said on sudden inspiration, "would you do something for me?"
She looked at me suspiciously. "What is this you wish me to do?"
"Would you…" I did not know the word, "ah, would you cut me?" I patted my bristly forehead. "Here?"
She laughed. "You want me to shave you!"
"Heya. I want you to shave me. If I am to stand before the king, I must look like a…ah-"
"Shaven one," she said, supplying the barbarian term for priest.
"Yes, I want to look like a shaven one. Will you do this?"
Ylva assented and fetched Gunnar's razor and a bowl of water. She settled herself on the stump and I on the ground before her, and, at my direction, she renewed my tonsure with swift strokes of her deft fingers. Karin, concerned over Ylva's absence, came out to look for us and, when she saw what we were about, hurried back to the house and called Ulf and Gunnar to see as well. They thought the sight immensely humorous and laughed loud and long at me.
Well, if the sight of a monk's tonsure gave them pleasure, so be it. Laughter, I reckoned, was the least trial a priest of the Holy Church might endure. Anyway, there was no spite in it.
Tolar arrived the day before we were to leave for the king's council. He and Gunnar were good friends, I soon discovered. They often accompanied one another to market, or, on such occasions as this, to the theng. The next morning, Karin, Ulf, and Ylva came out into the yard to see us away.
Karin wished her husband well, and gave him a bundle of food which he put in the bag at his belt. Ylva also wished Gunnar well on his journey. Then, turning to me, she said, "I made these for you to eat on the way."
She pressed a leather pouch into my hands, and, leaning close, kissed me quickly on the cheek. "May your God go with you, Aeddan. Journey well and return safely."
Then, overcome by her own boldness, she ducked her head and hurried back into the house. Thunderstruck, I watched her disappear through the door. My cheek seemed to burn where her lips had touched. I could feel the colour rising to my face.
Gunnar had already turned away, but Tolar stood looking on, smiling at my embarrassment. "Made these for you," he said, chuckling to himself; he tapped the bag in my hand as he moved past.
Ulf and Garm accompanied us as far as the edge of the forest, whereupon Gunnar sent them back with a last farewell. We then turned to the trail and began walking in earnest; Garm, nose to the ground, ran ahead, searching out the trail and circling through the brush on either side. We rested and watered at midday, and while the others napped I took the opportunity to examine the pouch Ylva had given me; inside were five hard, flat brown disks. They smelled of walnut and honey. I broke off a piece of one, tasted it, and found it sweet and good. I ate half a disk then, and made a habit of eating half each day.
