But Ingunn would not take part in the game. She sat with her cloak wrapped about her and looked as though she felt the cold; she was so quiet that something seemed to have depressed her spirits. Seeing it, Olav left the dance and seated himself by his wife—and soon after, it grew so dark that they all came into the house. It then appeared that the three sisters knew many games, riddles, and jests that were fitted for indoors, and they had sweet voices when they sang—in everything they were courtly and well-bred maidens. But Ingunn remained in ill humour, and Olav was not able to enjoy himself fully, for he could not guess what ailed his wife.

Olav put his arm about Torunn and led her to Ingunn. Torunn was not yet thirteen, a fair and merry child. But not even she could thaw the mistress of the house.

In the evening Olav accompanied his guests on the way. It was fine weather; the full moon shone brightly in the clear sky, but the frost fog was beginning to creep in from the fiord, blotting out the shadows. Olav walked, leading Torunn’s horse.

“Your wife likes us not, Olav,” said the little maid.

“Can you think that?” said Olav with a laugh. “Not like you! I know not what it is that has gone against Ingunn tonight.”

Ingunn was in bed when Olav came home, and when he lay down beside her, he found that she was weeping. He stroked her and bade her say why she was so sorrowful. At long last he got her to come out with it—she felt so mortally unwell; it must come from her having eaten some shellfish when she was down by the waterside that morning. Olav told her not to do such things—she could speak to him or to Björn if she had a mind to such food, and they would find her some shellfish that was good to eat. Then he asked if she did not think his kinswomen were pleasant and comely maids.

Ingunn answered yes, “and merry indeed were these daughters of Arne,” she said in a tone of disapproval. “And you sported right wantonly with them, Olav—utterly unlike you. I can guess that you like them.”

“Yes,” said Olav, and his voice was filled with gladness at the thought of the mirthful evening. ’Twould be a great comfort to them both that he had these blithe and courtly young kinswomen so near at hand, he said again.

Olav could hear that she was breathing heavily. After a while she whispered:

“Were we not as sisters to you, Tora and I, in your boyhood?—but never do I mind me that you romped and jested so wantonly with us.”

“Oh, maybe ’twas not unknown,” replied Olav. “But I was under another man’s roof,” he added quietly. “Had I grown up among my own kindred and in my own home, I trow I had been less grave and silent as a boy.”

Soon after, he heard that she was weeping again. And now her sobs took such hold that he had to get water for her. On lighting a splinter of wood he saw her face so red and swollen that he feared she had eaten something downright poisonous. He threw on some clothes, dashed out, and fetched fresh milk, which he forced her to drink, and then at last she began to mend and fell asleep.

One day just before Hallowmas Olav was at the manse together with certain other franklins; they had come to have letters drawn up by the priest. Olav had—not exactly fallen out—with another man, named Stein; but yet the two had exchanged words somewhat sharply once or twice.

As they were about to ride home again, some of the men went out to look at Apalhvit, the horse Olav Audunsson was riding. They praised the horse highly and remarked how well groomed he was. And they teased Stein, who also had a white horse, but his was ill kept and rusty yellow, and it was easy to see that he had been roughly handled by his rider.

Stein said: “It has been Olav’s calling to break and tend horses—’tis but meet that a knight’s horse should be well groomed. But wait till you have known a few years of husbandry; then you will have forgotten all your courtly ways. And then you will own the truth of the old saying that white horses and too fair wives are not for country folk, for they have no time to watch them.”

“’Twill surely never go so hard with me that I have not the means to keep two white horses,” said Olav proudly. “Will you sell me the horse, Stein?”

Stein named a price, and at once Olav held out his hand and bade the others witness the bargain. It was settled on the spot how and when Olav should pay over the purchase money.