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While yet these thoughts were in the mind of Torarin, he saw the old mistress of the house put her hand to her ear to listen. And then she turned to Herr Arne and asked him: "Why are they whetting knives at Branehog?" So deep was the silence in the room that when the old lady asked this question all gave a start and looked up in fright.
I thought I had three werewolves in the house with me, and I was glad when at last they took themselves off." When Torarin heard this he told the charcoal-burner what he himself had witnessed at the parsonage. "So it was true enough that this night they whetted knives at Branehog," said Torarin, laughing.
A week after his death Herr Arne was buried in Solberga church, and on the same day an inquest was held upon the murder in the assize house at Branehog. Now Herr Arne's fame was such throughout Bohuslen, and so many people came together on the day of his funeral, both from the mainland and the islands, that it was as though an army had assembled about its leader.
But even a strong man like him must one day die, and he is near ninety years old." He guided his horse into a road which led past the farm of Branehog to Odsmalskil. When he was come to Branehog he saw sledges standing in the yard and lights shining through the cracks of the closed shutters. Then Torarin said to Grim: "These folks are still up.
Long after midnight a couple of men came out of the house at Branehog to harness their horses and drive home. When they had come into the yard they saw a great fire flaring up against the sky in the north. They hastened back into the house and cried out: "Come out! Come out! Solberga parsonage is on fire!"
And so great a concourse moved between Solberga church and Branehog that toward evening not an inch of snow could be seen that had not been trampled by men's feet. But late in the evening, when all had gone their ways, came Torarin the fish hawker driving along the road from Branehog to Solberga.
"Yes," answered the man, "it is Torarin the fish hawker, who has been this day at the assize at Branehog." Herr Arne's looks seemed to grow more cheerful at this, and Torarin heard him say: "Come forward then, Torarin, and give us news of the assize! I have sat here and waited for half the night." All this had such a real and natural air that Torarin began to feel more and more courageous.
Herr Arne bent his head to her and said: "I know not what it is that affrights you." "I am in fear of the long knives they are whetting at Branehog," she said. "How can you hear them whetting knives at Branehog?" said Herr Arne, smiling. "The place lies two miles from here. Take up your spoon again and let us finish our supper." The old woman made an effort to overcome her terror.
Branehog had no other tenants besides them and me." "Say rather there are none but you," said the man. "You cannot call me a tenant. I am only a poor charcoal-burner whom you have allowed to settle on your land." The man seated himself beside Torarin and they began to converse. The newcomer told Torarin how it was he came so late to the feast.
When they saw that she was listening for something, they kept their spoons quiet and strained their ears. For some moments there was dead stillness in the room, but while it lasted the old woman became more and more uneasy. She laid her hand on Herr Arne's arm and asked him: "How can it be that they are whetting such long knives at Branehog this evening?"
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