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Updated: June 26, 2025
The peasant thought that no one had ever looked at him with such shining, admiring eyes, or thought him so magnificent, arrayed in his festival clothes, as that boy thought him in the torn skin dress. He was both touched and provoked. That miserable thief had no right to admire him. "Were there no feasts in your house?" he asked. Tord laughed. "Out there on the rocks with father and mother!
"No; but," said the boy, and pressed his lips together as if to keep in the words, "but if some one had a father who stole," he hinted after a while. "One inherits money and lands," replied Berg Rese, "but no one bears the name of thief if he has not himself earned it." Tord laughed quietly. "But if somebody has a mother who begs and prays him to take his father's crime on him.
His body was less well filled out but his muscles were as hard as steel. His hair grew suddenly gray. Young Tord could never weary of looking at this man. He had never before seen anything so beautiful and powerful. In his imagination he stood high as the forest, strong as the sea. He served him as a master and worshipped him as a god.
She turned their faces towards her, that they might forever remember her who had made their father a murderer. But Unn stood calm and so beautiful that the men trembled. She thanked me for the deed and told me to fly to the woods. She bade me not to be robber, and not to use the knife until I could do it for an equally just cause." "Your deed had been to her honor," said Tord.
"You son of a thief!" he said, hissing out the words, "I have trusted you and loved you." But when Tord saw him bend for the axe, he knew that it was now a question of his own life. He snatched his own axe from his belt and struck at Berg before he had time to raise himself. The edge cut through the whistling air and sank in the bent head.
Spirits and phantoms crept about among the trees. Suddenly he heard who it was who spoke in the storm. It was God, the great Avenger, the God of justice. He was hunting him for the sake of his comrade. He demanded that he should deliver up the murderer to His vengeance. Then Tord began to speak in the midst of the storm. He told God what he had wished to do, but had not been able.
Finding that he could not break through their defences, Sir Tord and his men turned in a pretended flight and were hotly pursued by the enemy, who abandoned their lines to follow the flying Swedes. Suddenly Sir Tord turned and led his men in a fierce attack upon the disordered pursuers, falling upon them with such bold fury that he had two horses killed under him.
As for Ture and his men, they managed to escape from the place where they had been left for safe keeping, and made their way to Denmark. Meanwhile Sir Tord Bonde was kept busy, for King Christian of Denmark several times invaded the land. On each occasion he was met by the valiant defender of West Gothland and driven out with loss.
He thought much more now of the girl than he had done the day before. Towards night he happened to ask Berg Rese if he knew her name. Berg looked at him inquiringly. "Perhaps it is best for you to hear it," he said. "She is Unn. We are cousins." Tord then knew that it was for that pale girl's sake Berg Rese wandered an outlaw in forest and mountain. Tord tried to remember what he knew of her.
Once Berg asked him if the peasants had not tried to tempt him to betray him, and when he heard what they had offered him as a reward, he said scornfully that Tord had been foolish not to accept such a proposal. Then Tord looked at him with a glance, the like of which Berg Rese had never before seen. Never had any beautiful woman in his youth, never had his wife or child looked so at him.
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