* * * * *
For three days I could not write at all. The skald from King Harald's court has again been a guest in the monastery.
I have made him tell me all about the life at that court. It is just as in my dear father's days. Certainly King Harald and all his courtiers are heathens, and their warlike expeditions are mostly against Christian kings and bishops. But that does not make me waver in my purpose, which is firmly resolved. He told me much about Gunnlôdh.
In twenty nights a ship of King Harald's will sail again into the harbour from...
* * * * *
I know now the answer to Halfred's question.
There are no heathen Gods.
But neither is there any Christian God, who, almighty, all merciful, all wise, allowed that the father should be slain by the son.
Rather, that only happens upon earth which is necessary, and what men do and do not, that must they do and not do; as the north wind must bring cold, the south wind warmth; and as the stone thrown must fall to the earth. Why must it fall? No one knows. But it must.
But men should not sigh and question and despair, rather rejoice in hammer throwing and harp playing, in sunshine and Greek wine, and in the beauty of women.