2. On The Quays

The poor maid who had escaped the butchery had been taken by

Torarin to Marstrand. He had conceived so great pity for her that

he had offered her lodging in his cramped cabin and a share of the

food which he and his mother ate.

"This is the only thing I can do for Herr Arne," thought Torarin,

"in return for all the times he has bought my fish and allowed me

to sit at his table."

"Poor and lowly as I am," thought Torarin, "it is better for the

maid that she go with me to the town than that she stay here among

the country folk. In Marstrand are many rich burgesses, and

perhaps the young maid may take service with one of them and so be

well cared for."

When first the girl came to the town she sat and wept from morning

to night. She bewailed Herr Arne and his household, and lamented

that she had lost all who were dear to her. Most of all she wept

for her foster sister, and said she wished she had not hidden

herself against the wall, so that she might have shared death with

her.

Torarin's mother said nothing to this so long as her son was at

home. But when he had gone on his travels again she said one

morning to the girl:

"I am not rich enough, Elsalill, to give you food and clothing

that you may sit with your hands in your lap and nurse your

sorrow. Come with me down to the quays and learn to clean fish."

So Elsalill went with her down to the quays and stood all day

working among the other fish cleaners.

But most of the women on the quays were young and merry. They

began to talk to Elsalill and asked her why she was so silent and

sorrowful.

Then Elsalill began to tell them of the terrible thing that had

befallen her no more than three nights ago. She spoke of the three

robbers who had broken into the house by the smoke-hole in the

roof and murdered all who were near and dear to her.

As Elsalill told her tale a black shadow fell across the table at

which she worked. And when she looked up three fine gentlemen

stood before her, wearing broad hats with long feathers and velvet

clothes with great puffs, embroidered in silk and gold.

One of them seemed to be of higher rank than the others; he was

very pale, his chin was shaven, and his eyes sat deep in his head.

He looked as though he had lately been ill. But in all else he

seemed a gay and bold-faced cavalier, who walked on the sunny

quays to show his fine clothes and his handsome face.

Elsalill broke off both work and story. She stood looking at him

with open mouth and staring eyes. And he smiled at her.

"We are not come hither to frighten you, mistress," said he, "but

to beg that we too may listen to your tale."

Poor Elsalill! Never in her life had she seen such a man. She felt

she could not speak in his presence; she merely held her peace and

cast her eyes upon her work.

The stranger began again: "Be not afraid of us, mistress! We are

Scotsmen who have been in the service of King John of Sweden ten

full years, but now have taken our discharge and are bound for

home. We have come to Marstrand to find a ship for Scotland, but

when we came hither we found every channel and firth frozen over,

and here we must bide and wait. We have no business to employ us,

and therefore we range about the quays to meet whom we may. We

should be happy, mistress, if you would let us hear your tale."

Elsalill knew that he had talked thus long to let her recover from

her emotion. At last she thought to herself: "You can surely show

that you are not too homely to speak to a noble gentleman,

Elsalill! For you are a maiden of good birth and no fisher lass."

"I was but telling of the great butchery at Solberga parsonage,"

said Elsalill. "There are so many who have heard that story."

"Yes," said the stranger, "but I did not know till now that any of

Herr Arne's household had escaped alive."

Then Elsalill told once more of the wild robbers' deed. She spoke

of how the old serving-men had gathered about Herr Arne to protect

him and how Herr Arne himself had snatched his sword from the wall

and pressed upon the robbers, but they had overcome them all. And

the old mistress had taken up her husband's sword and set upon the

robbers, but they had only laughed at her and felled her to the

floor with a billet of wood. And all the other women had crouched

against the wall of the stove, but when the men were dead the

robbers came and pulled them down and slew them. "The last they

slew," said Elsalill, "was my dear foster sister. She begged for

life so piteously, and two of them would have let her live; but

the third said that all must die, and he thrust his knife into her

heart."

While Elsalill was speaking of murder and blood the three men

stood still before her. They did not exchange a glance with each

other, but their ears grew long with listening, and their eyes

sparkled, and sometimes their lips parted so that the teeth

glistened.

Elsalill's eyes were full of tears; not once did she look up

whilst she was speaking. She did not see that the man before her

had the eyes and teeth of a wolf. Only when she had finished

speaking did she dry her eyes and look up at him.

But when he met Elsalill's glance his face changed in an instant.

"Since you have seen the murderers so well, mistress," said he,

"you would doubtless know them again if you met them?"

"I have no more than seen them by the light of the brands they

snatched from the hearth to light their murdering," said Elsalill;

"but with God's help I'll surely know them again. And I pray to

God daily that I may meet them." "What mean you by that,

mistress?" asked the stranger. "Is it not true that the murderous

vagabonds are dead?"

"Indeed, I have heard so," said Elsalill. "The peasants who set

out after them followed their tracks from the parsonage down to a

hole in the ice. Thus far they saw tracks of sledge-runners upon

the smooth ice, tracks of a horse's hoofs, tracks of men with

heavy nailed boots. But beyond the hole no tracks led on across

the ice, and therefore the peasants supposed them all dead."

"And do you not believe them dead, Elsalill?" asked the stranger.

"Oh, yes, I think they must be drowned," said Elsalill; "and yet I

pray to God daily that they may have escaped. I speak to God in

this wise: 'Let it be so that they have only driven the horse and

the sledge into the hole, but have themselves escaped.'"

"Why do you wish this, Elsalill?" asked the stranger.

The tender maid Elsalill, she flung back her head and her eyes

shone like fire. "I would they were alive that I might find them

out and seize them. I would they were alive that I might tear

their hearts out. I would they were alive that I might see their

bodies quartered and spiked upon the wheel."

"How do you think to bring all this about?" said the stranger.

"For you are only a weak little maid."

"If they were living," said Elsalill, "I should surely bring their

punishment upon them. Rather would I go to my death than let them

go free. Strong and mighty they may be, I know it, but they would

not be able to escape me."

At this the stranger smiled upon her, but Elsalill stamped her

foot.

"If they were living, should I not remember that they have taken

my home from me, so that I am now a poor lass, compelled to stand

here on the cold quay and clean fish? Should I not remember that

they have slain all those near to me, and should I not remember

most of all the man who plucked my foster sister from the wall and

slew her who was so dear to me?"

But when the tender little maid gave proof of such great wrath,

the three Scottish campaigners burst out laughing. So full of

merriment were they that they went off, lest Elsalill might take

offence. They walked across the harbour and up a narrow alley

which led to the market-place. But long after they were out of

sight Elsalill heard their roars of loud and scornful laughter.