it’s keeping him quiet. And the troll said, ‘Hutututu! I smell the blood of a mortal man!’ So Halvor pulled out his sword, and chopped off the troll’s heads.”
“Chop, chop, chop!” chuckled Eirik. Hilde rolled her eyes.
“And he rescued a princess, a beautiful princess, and got married to her. And they lived in the castle together, ever so happily, till one day Halvor began to miss his poor mother and father, who would think he had drowned.”
Hilde wove a few more rows, half-listening while the princess gave Halvor a magical ring which would carry him back over the sea, with a warning never to forget her. “‘Or I shall have to go away to Soria Moria Castle, to marry a troll with nine heads.’”
Now there was less bloodshed in the story, Eirik lost interest. He lay kicking his legs in the air, then turned on his stomach and began squirming eel-like over the edge of the bed. Sigrid dragged him back. “Lie still, Eirik, or I won’t go on.”
“Ma,” grumbled Hilde, “I can hardly see.”
“Then stop,” said Gudrun. She was slicing onions, and paused with the knife in her hand to wipe her streaming eyes. “Thank goodness Elli’s asleep at last. I’ll be so glad when she’s finished teething. All that wailing really wears you out…”
“Shall I finish the onions for you?”
“No, go and help with Eirik, I’ve nearly done.”
“Come on, Eirik,” said Hilde, “sit on my knee and listen to Siggy’s nice story. Better chop off a few more heads,” she advised Sigrid from the side of her mouth.
“Halvor was so happy to get home that he quite forgot the poor princess was waiting for him,” said Sigrid rapidly. “And she waited and waited, and then she said, ‘He’s forgotten me, and now I must go to Soria Moria Castle and marry the troll with nine heads.’”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Hilde, trying to stop Eirik slithering off her lap. “Nine heads coming off soon, Eirik.”
“So Halvor had to find Soria Moria Castle, which was east of the sun and west of the moon, but nobody knew the way. Oh, Eirik, I wish you’d listen!”
“Eirik,” said Hilde ruthlessly, “listen to the end of the story! The prince chopped off the troll’s heads. Chop, chop, chop!”
“Chop, chop, chop!” chanted Eirik.
“You’ve wrecked my story!” Sigrid cried.
“I told you, Sigrid: he’s too little.” She let Eirik slide to the floor. “And he isn’t sleepy. He wants to play. I don’t blame him, either. I know how he feels.”
Gudrun looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Hilde prowled up the room. “Just—I’m sick of being cooped up indoors. Peer’s having fun on the beach, building that jetty with Bjørn. Pa and Sigurd are on the fell with Loki and the new puppy. It isn’t fair. I wish something interesting would happen to me.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” said Gudrun: “you might get it. It was interesting last summer when the house was attacked by trolls, but I wouldn’t want to go through that again. Life isn’t fair, and you may as well get used to it.”
“You always say that!” Hilde wailed. “I’m so tired of being shut up in here, doing the same things, cooking and spinning and weaving, for ever and ever and ever.”
“Hilde!” said Gudrun in surprise. She set down the knife and smoothed Hilde’s hair with a damp hand. “We all feel low at the end of winter. But spring’s here, and soon the weather will be warm again. Think of sitting outside in the long evenings.”
“I suppose,” Hilde muttered.
Sigrid said, “Now your hair will smell of onions.”
“Well, thanks!” Hilde began, when there was a bang at the door. Alf, the old sheepdog, struggled up with a startled bark.
Gudrun’s hand flew to her mouth. “Who’s this knocking after dark?”
“Trolls?” said Sigrid apprehensively.
Hilde got to her feet. “I’ll open it. And if there are any trolls out there, I’ll make them wish they hadn’t bothered.”
“Chop, chop, chop!” shouted Eirik.
With a nervous giggle, Sigrid hoisted him into her arms, and Hilde grabbed a broom and flung the door open. “Who is it, and what do you want?”
Then she threw down the broom with a cry of delight. “Arnë!”
Arnë Egilsson ducked in under the lintel, pulling off his cap, a broad smile on his face. “Hello, Hilde—don’t hit me! Is Ralf here? Gudrun, I’ve brought visitors.” He paused before announcing grandly, “Here’s Gunnar Ingolfsson of Vinland, with his wife Astrid and his son Harald Silkenhair. Gunnar wants to speak to Ralf. Guess what, Hilde? I’ve joined Gunnar’s ship. I’m sailing with him to Vinland!”
Hilde gasped. “Arnë, you lucky, lucky thing!”
“Yes, but I’ll miss you. Will you miss me?” he whispered, leaning close. She stepped back with a bright smile. (If my hair really smells of onions, I’ll kill Ma…)
A moment later, people were crowding in. Gunnar Ingolfsson filled the doorframe, a thickset, sandy-bearded man in a heavy wolfskin cloak. After him came a tall, pale girl. A flustered Gudrun came forward to greet them, wiping her hands on her apron. And the last to come in…
Hilde blinked. In walked a boy who made Arnë look like an overgrown, ruddy-faced farmhand. He wore his fine cloak with a confident swagger. Long golden hair tumbled over his shoulders and down his back.
Harald Silkenhair? He’s like a young hero from a saga.
“He’s just like a prince from a fairy tale,” Sigrid breathed. “Hilde, look, he’s even got a sword!”
Eirik struggled, kicking Sigrid with his bare toes till she put him down. He ran forward, a sturdy little figure in a nightshirt, blocking Harald’s way, and gazed up in wide-eyed admiration. “Show me your sword,” he demanded.
Harald’s lips quirked, and he went down on one knee. He slid his sword a few inches out of the sheath. “Meet Bone-biter. No!” he warned, as Eirik’s chubby hand went out. “She’s sharp.Touch the handle.”
Rather uneasily Hilde watched Eirik stretch out a finger. The hilt of the sword was wrapped with silver wire. “Shiny,” said Eirik, his voice soft with awe. He looked up at Harald. “Did you cut off the twoll’s head?”
Harald frowned. Hilde cut in. “It’s just a story he’s been listening to. He thinks—”
“He thinks you’re a prince who killed some trolls,” blurted Sigrid, blushing.
Harald ran the sword back into its sheath. “Not trolls,” he said, laughing, “not trolls.” He leaned forward and ruffled
