In other connections, though, Father Willibald had a great deal to say at this feast; and already on the first day, when all the guests had been fitted into their places in the church and every man and woman had received his or her cup of welcome-ale, he lit before his altar, on which his cross had been set up, three fine wax candles that he and Asa had molded, and spoke to the gathering about the holy place in which they now found themselves.
“The God who rules in this house,” he said, “is the only true god, and surpasses all others in wisdom, strength, and the ability to impart luck. His house, into which you have been permitted to enter, is the house of peace. For He dwelleth in peace, and rejoiceth in it, and giveth of it to such as come to Him for succor. You have come to this house from the regions of darkness and heresy to rest for a brief moment in His presence; and to darkness and heresy you will return when you have left it, to wallow in sin and luxuriate in abomination until the span of your life is ended, when you will take your places among the regiments of the damned. But Christ offers His infinite friendship even to you, although you daily slight His name and teaching; therefore you have been permitted to enter this house. For He wants all men to be happy; that is why, when He himself was a wanderer on this earth, He turned water into good ale, that He might give joy to His friends. But the time is almost come when He will cease to be meek to such as refuse His friendship; and when they feel the whip of His anger, terrible indeed shall be their suffering, worse than that of the chieftain in the song who perished in a pit of snakes. So I think you will all agree that it will be a bad thing to be counted among His enemies. But as yet His offer still holds good, that any man or woman who wishes to do may become His servant and gain His protection merely by being baptized. Those, however, who will not do this must protect themselves as best they can.”
The guests listened with interest to Father Willibald’s address and murmured to one another that there was wisdom in a good deal of the things he had said, though some of his observations were difficult to be taken seriously. It was noticeable that the old people listened more attentively than the young, for the latter, whether boys or girls, found it difficult to take their eyes from Ylva. She was, indeed, a sight to marvel at, for she was now in the full prime of her beauty, at peace with the world and full of good-will toward everyone. She wore new garments, made from the costliest cloth that had been found in Östen’s sacks, embroidered with silk and silver; and around her throat she wore the Andalusian chain. It was clear from the way so many of the guests gazed at her that such a woman and such an ornament were sights the like of which a man did not often see; and Orm was not the less happy for observing that they were properly appreciated.
When the priest had finished his speech, Orm tried to persuade one or two of the wiser among his guests to agree that a sensible man would be neglecting his own interests if he did not become a Christian; but he got no further than that two men expressed the opinion that the matter was, certainly, worth consideration; and even several hours later, when they were well on the way toward being drunk, they refused to commit themselves further.
The next day was a Sunday, and Father Willibald told the guests how God had built the world in six days and had then rested on the seventh, which they agreed to be an excellent story; also, how on this same day, many years later, Christ had risen from the dead, which they found more difficult to believe. Then Harald Ormsson was brought into the church to be baptized. Asa carried him to the tub, and Father Willibald performed the ceremony with the maximum of pomp and solemnity, chanting Latin prayers so loudly that they drowned the infant’s bawling and caused the congregation to tremble on their benches. When the ceremony was over, toasts were drunk to the infant’s luck, and to the memory of the three great heroes, Harald Blue-Tooth, Sven Rat-Nose, and Ivar Broad-Hug, whose blood ran in his veins.
Then all the guests trooped out of the church to see the Smalanders baptized in the river. Östen and his two men were led from the bathhouse and were made to wade a short way into the water. There they stood in a row, bareheaded and scowling, while Father Willibald stood before them on the washing-barge, with Rapp beside him holding a couple of spears in case the men should try to offer resistance. Father Willibald read over them, his voice quivering with excitement and joy, for this was, for him, a great day; then he bade them bow their heads and dowsed them one by one with a scoop. Having done this, he blessed each of them in order, placing his hands upon each man’s head; then he leaned perilously forward from his barge and gave each of them a brotherly kiss upon the forehead.
They endured all this with no sign of expression in their faces, as though they were scarcely aware of Father Willibald’s presence or of what he was doing to them, and as though the spectators on the banks did not exist at all.
When they had waded ashore again, Orm told them that they were now free to go whithersoever they pleased.
“But before you leave me,” he said, “I wish to give you one further example of Christian behavior. It is commanded that we who follow Christ shall be generous toward our enemies, even to such as have sought our life; and I do not intend to show myself less religious in my observance of this command than anyone else.”
He then ordered each of the three men to be given food for their journey, the same as the guests had enjoyed in the church on the previous evening. In addition, he presented every one of them with a horse, from those that they had brought with them in their caravan.
“Now depart in peace,” he said, “and do not forget that you belong to Christ.”
Östen glared at him and, for the first time that day, words passed his lips.
“I am a man whose memory is long,” he said slowly; and he spoke as though he was very weary.
He said no more, but climbed upon his horse, rode out through the gate, and, together with his two companions, disappeared into the forest.
Then everybody returned to the church, and the feast proceeded amid much merriment and noise, so that when Father Willibald tried to tell them more about the Christian religion, he had difficulty in getting a hearing. They would prefer, the guests declared, to hear about the adventures that Orm had had in foreign lands, as well as about his feud with King Sven; so Orm complied with this request. There was little love lost between King Sven and the inhabitants of these parts, for it was a peculiarity of the border-dwellers that they were always generous in their praise of dead kings, but seldom found anything good to say about living ones. When, therefore, Orm told them how Father Willibald had thrown a stone at King Sven and hit him in the mouth, so that blood had appeared and his teeth had been loosened, there was tremendous applause and jubilation, and all the guests made haste to fill their cups that they might drink to the honor of the little priest. Many of them swayed backwards and forwards on their benches with tears streaming from their eyes, and their mouths wide open, while others were unable to swallow their ale for laughing, and snorted it out on the table in front of them; and they all cried joyfully that they had never heard the like of such a feat by so tiny a man.
“The spirit of the Lord was upon me,” said Father Willibald humbly. “King Sven is God’s enemy, and so my weak hand brought him down.”
“We have heard it said,” remarked a man of note called Ivar the Smith who was seated near Orm, “that King Sven hates all Christians, and their priests especially, so that he kills all he can lay his hands on. It is not difficult to guess the reason for his hatred, if he received such a blow as this from the hand of one of them. For there are few greater indignities that a king could undergo, and few that would take longer to forget.”