So merry he, and could “stave” so well.
The whole reminded me of the catalogue in the glee of “Dame Durden.”
“But how long will you stop with us? If you’ll wait till Sunday, we’ll have a selskab (party). Some of the men will come home from the mountains, and then you shall hear us stave properly.”
She seemed much disappointed when I told her I must be off there and then, my luggage was already miles ahead.
Leaving her with thanks, I made a detour of a couple of miles into the side valley, to see a very ancient gaard, to which a story attaches. Roynestad, as it was called, was built of immense logs, some as much as three feet thick;[29] on one of which several bullet marks were visible. Here once dwelt a fellow bearing the same names as the murderer of the priest at Valle, viz., Wund Osmund. He had served in the wars, and seen much of foreign lands. For some reason he incurred the displeasure of the authorities, and fled for refuge to his mountain home. A party of officials came to seize him. When he saw them approaching, he took aim with his cross-bow at a maalestock (pole for land-measuring), which he had placed in the meadow in front of his house, and sent three or four shafts into it.
Cloudesley with a bearing arrow
Clave the wand in two.
The Dogberries were alarmed, and, after discharging a few bullets, turned tail.
There were in the loft some curious reminiscences of this daring fellow, e.g., an ancient sword, and some old tapestry, or rather canvas painted over with some historical subject, which I could not make out. In ancient times the interior of the houses was often decorated with hangings of this kind (upstad, aaklæd). But what I chiefly wanted to see was a genuine old Pagan idol, which had been preserved on the spot many hundred years. But “Faxe,” I found, was not long ago split up for fuel. The real meaning of “faxe” is horse with uncut mane, so that it was most likely connected with the worship of Odin.
Regaining my old road, by a short cut, which fortunately did not turn out a longer way, I plodded on to Bjaräen, a lonely house in the forest. Here I found my excellent conductress, who, alarmed at my non-appearance, had halted, and it being now dusk, further advance to-night was not to be thought of.