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Updated: June 7, 2025
Old Gunhild comes out from the house, and seeing us standing there by the chopping-block wasting time in idle talk, she tells Grindhusen he'd better start on the painting. "So you've turned painter now?" said I. Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a thing that should not have been said in others' hearing.
She was fond of Baard and was deeply incensed at Egil for his murderous act, and she stormed at the king for his mildness of temper till he broke out: "You are forever egging me on to acts of violence; but now you must hold your peace, for I have given my kingly word and cannot break it." Gunhild, thus repulsed, sought other means of revenge.
"This is young Ingmar's polka," he called out. "Hoop-la! Now the whole house must dance for young Ingmar!" Two such pretty girls as Gertrude and Gunhild had to be in every dance, of course. Ingmar did not do much dancing. He stood talking most of the time with some of the older men at the farther end of the room.
Each time that Carlino had ventured at night into the more lonely parts of Bruges he had seen this sinister figure, wandering, as it seemed, aimlessly. "That is a nice way to reassure people," said Noemi. Carlino shrugged his shoulders, and declared the meeting to have been most fortunate, since it had suggested the name of Gunhild for his heroine, Noemi being that of a mother-in-law.
In this casket Gunhild's mother had always kept her most cherished keepsakes-the worn-down wedding ring which had belonged to her mother, the old-fashioned watch which had been her father's, and her own gold earrings. But when Gunhild opened the box, she found that all these things had been taken out, and in their place lay a letter. It was a letter that she herself had written.
It was afterwards said that Gunhild the sorceress had bewitched the arrow and sent it with orders to use it only against King Haakon. In those days it was easy to have men believe tales like that, but, witchcraft or not, the blood still ran and the king grew weaker.
Gunhild had been staying at the Ingmar Farm since deciding to go with the others to Jerusalem. She had felt that this was preferable to living at home in constant strife with her parents, who could not become reconciled to the thought of her going. As Gunhild stepped down from the cart she noticed that the place looked quite deserted.
But this time I am resolved. Peace I will have, at any cost. And for the present I have taken a room in a cottage here, with Old Gunhild to look after me. Here and there among the pines are rowans, with ripe coral berries; now the berries are falling, heavy clusters striking the earth. So they reap themselves and sow themselves again, an inconceivable abundance to be squandered every single year.
Gudrod, son of worthy Bjorn the Chapman, was grandfather of Saint Olaf, whom all men have heard of, who has a church in Southwark even, and another in Old Jewry, to this hour. In all these violences, Gunhild, widow of the late king Eric, was understood to have a principal hand.
On it he thrust the head of a dead horse, crying out: "I turn this dishonor against all the land-spirits of this land, that they may all stray bewildered and none of them find his home until they have driven King Erik and Queen Gunhild out of this land." This message of defiance he cut in runes the letters of the Northland into the pole, that all might read it, and then sailed back to Iceland.
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