They thanked Orm and the priest for their kindness and went their way; and nothing more was heard of them at Gröning, nor of the end of the world.
The year ended without the smallest sign having appeared in the sky, and there ensued a period of calm in the border country. Relations with the Smalanders continued to be peaceful, and there were no local incidents worth mentioning, apart from the usual murders at feasts and weddings, and a few men burned in their houses as the result of neighborly disputes. At Gröning, life proceeded tranquilly. Father Willibald worked assiduously for Christ, though he was not infrequently heard to complain at the slowness with which his congregation increased, despite all his efforts; what particularly annoyed him was the number of people who came to him and said that they were willing to be baptized in return for a calf or heifer. But even he admitted that things might have been worse, and thought that some of the men and women he had converted were perhaps less obdurately evil than they had been before baptism. Asa did what she could to help him; and although she was by now beginning to grow old, she was as active as ever and had plenty to occupy her in looking after the children and the servants. She and Ylva were good friends and seldom exchanged words, for Asa was mindful that her daughter-in-law was of royal blood; and when they disagreed, Asa always yielded, though it could be seen that it went against her nature to do so.
“For it is certain,” said Orm to Ylva, “that the old woman is even more obstinate than you, which is saying not a little. It is good that things have turned out as I hoped they might, and that she has never tried to challenge your authority in the house.”
Orm and Ylva still found no cause for complaint in their choice of each other. When they quarreled, neither of them minced words; but such incidents were rare and quickly passed, nor did either of them cherish rancor afterwards. It was a strange peculiarity of Orm’s that he never birched his wife; even when a great anger came over him, he restrained his temper, so that nothing more came of it than an overturned table or a broken door. In time he perceived a curious thing: namely, that all their quarrels always ended in the same way; he had to mend the things he had broken, and the matter about which they had quarreled was always settled the way Ylva wanted it, though she never upturned a table or broke a door, but merely threw an occasional dish-clout in his face or smashed a plate on the floor at his feet. Having discovered this, he thought it unrewarding to have any further quarrels with her, and a whole year would sometimes pass without their harmony being threatened by hard words.
They had two more children: a son, whom they called Ivar, after Ivar of the Broad Embrace, and whom Asa hoped would, in time, become a priest, and a daughter, whom they called Sigrun. Toke Gray-Gullsson was invited as the chief guest at the christening, and it was he who chose her name, though only after a long exchange of words with Asa, who wanted the child to be given a Christian name. Toke, however, asserted that no woman’s name was more beautiful than Sigrun, or more honored in old songs; and as Orm and Ylva wished to show him all honor, it was allowed to be as he wished it. If all went well, Toke said, she would, in good time, marry one of his sons; for he could not hope to have either of the twins as a daughter-in-law, none of his sons being old enough to be considered as future husbands for them. This, he said to himself sadly as he sat gazing at Oddny and Ludmilla, was, in truth, a great pity.
For the two girls were, by now, beginning to grow up, and nobody could any longer doubt whether they would be pleasing to the eye. They were both red-haired and well-shaped, and men were soon glancing at them; but it was easy to perceive one difference between them. Oddny was of a mild and submissive temper; she was skillful at womanly tasks, obeyed her parents willingly, and seldom caused Ylva or Asa any vexation. On the few occasions when she did so, her sister was chiefly to blame, for, from the first, Oddny had obeyed Ludmilla in everything, while Ludmilla, by contrast, found it irksome to obey and pleasing to command. When she was birched, she yelled more from anger than from pain, and comforted herself with the reflection that before long she would be big enough to give as good as she got. She disliked working at the butter-churns or on the weaving-stools, preferring to shoot with a bow, at which sport she soon became as skillful as her teacher, Glad Ulf. Orm was unable to control her, but her obstinacy and boldness pleased him; and when Ylva complained to him of her perversity and the way she played truant in the forest, shooting with Glad Ulf and Harald Ormsson, he merely replied: “What else can you expect? It is the royal blood in her veins. She has been blessed with a double measure, Oddny’s as well as her own. She will be a difficult filly to tame, and let us hope that the main burden of taming her will fall on other shoulders than ours.”
In the winter evenings, when everyone was seated round the fire at his or her handicraft, she would sometimes behave peaceably, and even now and then work at her spinning, provided that some good story was being told, by Orm of his adventures in foreign lands, or by Asa of the family in the old days, or by Father Willibald of great happenings in the days of Joshua or King David, or by Ylva of her father, King Harald. She was happiest when Toke visited Gröning, for he was a good story-teller and knew many tales of ancient heroes. Whenever he seemed to flag, it was always she who jumped up to fill his ale-cup and beg him to continue, and it was seldom that he found the heart to refuse her.
For it was always so with Ludmilla Ormsdotter that from her earliest youth men found it difficult to gainsay her. She was pale-complexioned, with skin tightly drawn over her cheekbones, and dark eyebrows; and although her eyes were of the same gray as those of many other girls, it nevertheless seemed to men who studied them closely and returned their gaze that there were none to compare with them anywhere else in the whole border country.
Her first experience with men occurred in the summer after her fourteenth birthday, when Gudmund of Uvaberg came riding to Gröning with two men, whom he suggested that Orm should take into his service.
Gudmund had not been seen at Gröning since Orm had insulted him at the Thing, nor had he ridden to any Thing since that day. But now he came full of smiles and friendliness and said that he wished to do Orm a kindness, so that their old quarrel might be made up.