And a ballad was made of these doings as they were thought to have fallen out.

One evening—it was three years later—as Steinfinn sat drinking with his men, he asked if there were any who could sing the ballad that had been made upon him. At first all the house-carls made as though they knew naught of any ballad. But when Steinfinn promised a great gift to him who could sing his dance, it came out that the whole household knew it. Steinfinn heard it to the end; now and then he bared his teeth in a sort of smile. As soon as it was done, he went to bed together with his half-brother Kolbein Toresson, and the folk heard the two talking behind the bed-shutters till near midnight.

This Kolbein was a son of Tore of Hov by a concubine he had had before his marriage; and he had always cared more for his children by her than for those born in wedlock. For Kolbein he had made a good marriage and got him a great farm to the northward on Lake Mjösen. But there was little thrift in Kolbein; he was overbearing, unjust, and of a hasty temper and was ever in lawsuits both with lesser men and with his equals. So he was a man of few friends and there was little love between him and his true-born half-brothers, until, after his misfortune, Steinfinn took up with Kolbein. After that these two brothers were always together and Kolbein charged himself with Steinfinn and all his affairs. But he ordered them as he ordered his own and brought trouble with him even when he acted on his brother’s behalf.

Assuredly it was not that Kolbein had a will to harm his younger brother; he was fond of Steinfinn in his own way, after that the younger in his perplexity had put himself wholly into his half-brother’s hands. Careless and lazy Steinfinn had been in his days of prosperity; he had thought more of lordly living than of taking care for his estate. After the night of the raid he shunned all men for a time. But afterwards, by Kolbein’s advice, he took a whole band of house-carls into his service—young men well trained to arms, and by choice such as before had done lord’s service elsewhere. Steinfinn and his men slept in the great hall, and they followed their master wherever he went, but they neither could nor would do much work on the estate, so that he had great cost and little gain of the whole band.

Nevertheless the farm work at Frettastein was seen to in a way, for the old bailiff, Grim, and Dalla, his sister, were children of one of Steinfinn’s grandmother’s thralls, and they had no thought beyond the welfare of their young master. But now, when Steinfinn had need of a return from his outlying farms, he cared neither to see nor to speak with his own tenants and bailiffs—and Kolbein, who took charge of all such matters in his stead, brought with him trouble without end.

Ingebjörg Jonsdatter had been a skilful housewife, and in former days this had made great amends for her husband’s lavish and indolent ways. But now she hid herself in the little outhouse with her maids, and the rest of the household scarcely saw her. She spent her days in pondering and repining, never inquired of the condition of the house or estate, but rather seemed to be angered if any disturbed her thoughts. Even with her children, who lived with their mother in the outhouse, she was silent, caring little for how they fared or what they did. Yet before, in the good days, she had been a tender mother, and Steinfinn Toresson had been a happy and loving father, proud of their strong and handsome children.

So long as her sons, Hallvard and Jon, were still small, she often took them in her lap and sat rocking them, with her chin resting on their fair-haired crowns, while she moped, lost in sorrowful thought. But the boys were not very old before they grew weary of staying in the outhouse with their mournful mother and her women.

Tora, the younger daughter, was a good and pretty child. She saw full well that her father and mother had suffered a grievous wrong and were now full of cares and sorrow, and she strove to cheer them, kindly and lovingly. She became the favourite of both. Steinfinn’s face would brighten somewhat when he looked at this daughter of his. Tora Steinfinnsdatter was delicate and shapely in body and limbs, she ripened early into womanhood. She had a long, full face, a fair skin, and blue eyes; thick plaits of smooth, corn-yellow hair hung over her shoulders. Her father stroked her cheek: “A good child you are, Tora mine—God bless you. Go to your mother, Tora; sit with her and comfort her.”

Tora went, and sat down spinning or sewing beside her sorrowful mother. And she thought herself more than rewarded if Ingebjörg said at the last: “You are good, Tora mine—God preserve you from all evil, my child.” Then Tora’s tears began to fall-she thought upon her parents’ heavy lot, and, full of righteous wrath, she looked at her sister, who had never enough constancy to sit still with their mother and could not come into the outhouse without making her impatient with her continual restlessness—till Ingebjörg bade her go out again. And Ingunn made for the door, carefree and unrepentant, and ran out to play and shout with the other children of the place—Olav and some boys belonging to the serving-folk at Frettastein.

Ingunn was the eldest of all Steinfinn’s and Ingebjörg’s children. When she was little, she had been marvellously fair; but now she was not half as pretty as her sister, people thought.