The Watch on the Hill.
This part of the mountain was a singularly favourable situation for seeing what was doing on the spot on which every one’s attention was fixed this day. While the people on the fiord could not see what was going forward at Saltdalen, nor those at Saltdalen what were the movements of the farm, the watchers on the ridge could observe the proceedings at all the three points. The opportunity was much improved by the bishop having a glass—a glass of a quality so rare at that time, that there would probably have been some talk of magic and charms, if it had been seen in Olaf’s hands, instead of the bishop’s.
By means of this glass, the bishop, M. Kollsen, or Madame Erlingsen announced, from time to time, what was doing, as the evening advanced;—how parties of two or three were leaving Saltdalen, creeping towards the farm under cover of rising grounds, rocks, and pine-woods;—how small companies, well-armed, were hidden in every place of concealment near Erlingsen’s;—and how there seemed to be a great number of women about the place. This was puzzling. Who these women could be, and why they should choose to resort to the farm when its female inhabitants had left it for safety, it was difficult at first to imagine. But the truth soon occurred to Frolich. No doubt some one had remembered how strange and suspicious it would appear to the pirates, who supposed the bishop to be at the farm, that there should be no women in the company assembled to meet him. No doubt, these people in blue, white, and green petticoats, who were striding about the yards, and looking forth from the galleries, were men dressed in their wives’ clothes, or in such as Erlingsen furnished from the family chests. This disguise was as good as an ambush, while it also served to give the place the festive appearance looked for by the enemy. It was found afterwards that Oddo had acted as lady’s maid, fitting the gowns to the shortest men, and dressing up their heads, so as best to hide the shaggy hair. Great numbers were certainly assembled before night; yet still a group might be seen now and then, winding down from some recess of the wide-spreading mountain, making circuits by the ravines and water-courses, so as to avoid crossing the upland slopes, which the pirates might be surveying by means of such a glass as the bishop’s.
The bishop was of opinion that scarcely a blow would be struck,—so great was the country force, compared with that of the pirates. He believed that the enemy would be overpowered and disarmed, almost without a struggle. Erica, who could not but tremble, with fear as well as expectation, blessed his words in her heart: and so, in truth, did every woman present.
No one thought of going to rest, though Madame Erlingsen urged it upon those over whom she had influence. Finding that Erica had sat up to watch the cattle the night before, she compelled her to go and lie down: but no compulsion could make her sleep; and Orga and Frolich did the best they could for her, by running to her with news of any fresh appearance below. Just after midnight, they brought her word that the bishop had ordered every one but M. Kollsen away from the ridge. The schooner had peeped out from behind the promontory, and was stealing up with a soft west wind—
“A west wind!” exclaimed Erica. “Any fog?”
“No, not a flake of mist. Neither you nor any one will say that Nipen is favourable to the enemy to-night, Erica.”
“You will hear me say less of Nipen, henceforward,” said Erica.
“That is wise for to-night, at least. Here is the west wind; but only to waft the enemy into our hands. But have you really left off believing in Nipen, and the whole race of sprites?”
These words jarred on Erica’s yet timid feelings. She replied that she must take time for thought, as she had much to think about: but the bishop had to-day spoken words which she believed would, when well considered, lift a heavy load from her heart.