“Yes, I feel that,” Vagnhöfdi said heavily. “You are whatever it is you are, and no man may flee his weird.”

“But come in, do,” Haflidi bade, “and we’ll be merry together this evening as of old.”

That did not happen. They drank, they talked of small things and their former days, but Hadding grew fiery and Vagnhöfdi more glum. Hardgreip alone kept trying for lightness.

But when Hadding and Haflidi had lain down to rest, he made out through the darkness that Hardgreip drew her father aside and whispered with him.

In the morning after they had broken their fast she smiled down at Hadding and said, “Shall we take this day free, you and I? Let’s seek out places we like and enjoy them anew” He thought she hoped it would lessen his eagerness to be off. Nothing could do that, but meanwhile he was willing to take some ease. There would soon be little of it for him.

They walked off together, she matching her stride to his, from the house on the hilltop into the woodland beneath. The day was mild and bright, a few clouds catching the sunshine aloft, a breeze sweet with young grass, new-budded leaves, and the earliest flowers. Trees made a rustling roof over the game trail they took, through which light fell in shafts and flecks amidst the shade. A squirrel ran up a bole, a ruddy streak quickly gone in the green and gold above. Birdsong trilled.

“Yes, this land is fair, and I will ever remember it,” Hadding said.

“Is that all you will do, remember?” Hardgreip asked. Looking up, he saw a glint of tears on the great face. Their eyes met, turning at once away, and both of them flushed.

After a while they came to an opening. Here rocks heaved up, thickly mossed, to hold off the beeches that ringed them in. A spring gurgled and glittered among them. It made a shallow pool from which a streamlet purled off. One bank of the pool was free of boulders, blanketed with the same moss, soft and springy.

The day was growing warm. It baked rich smells out of the ground, smells of the life everywhere swelling and begetting, drunk with lustiness.

“Ah, I know this spot,” Hadding mumbled into the silence.

“Well you might,” Hardgreip said, “as often as you’ve watched me here.”

Suddenly she grasped his arm. Her hand was huge and hot, he felt the blood throb in it, but the grip was tender. Astonished, he looked again into her eyes. They shone upon him like the sun.

“Hadding,” she gasped, “don’t go away. Stay. Take me, have me. Now!”

“What?” he blurted, staggered.

“Make me your first woman, take me in your arms, me who took you in mine when you were new-born, me at whose breasts you drank, who kept you alive. Give back what I gave you!”