Murdo, feeling he had said more than enough, wisely kept his mouth shut, as if accepting his mother's final decree. That night he lay awake imagining what he would say to Ragna when he saw her, and wondering whether some sort of gift might be required for the occasion. He determined to give the matter serious consideration, and fell asleep dreaming of her pleasantly surprised reaction to his affection and generosity.

In the days to follow, it took all of Murdo's cunning to appear indifferent to the impending visit. He contrived to help Peder ready the boat; after wintering on the shore, there was always a deal of work to get the craft seaworthy once more, and the old sailor was most exacting about how the various chores were done. Peder had collected a supply of pitch to be mixed together with a little wool, the compound to be pressed into the seams and any cracks which had opened during the cold months. Then, the hull would be scraped with pumice stone and a fresh layer of pitch applied. Also, during the long winter, Peder fashioned lengths of rope from twisted hemp; these would have to be stretched and soaked, stretched and soaked again, and then spliced together to make good stout seaworthy lines-an arduous process, but, as Peder never tired of pointing out, at sea a man's life hung by each and every strand of seaman's thread.

Save for the smell of hot pitch, Murdo did not mind the work. He preferred the sailing to farming anyway, and Peder's rambling talk took his mind off the aching anticipation of seeing Ragna again. The thought tormented him like an inflamed itch, and he could not wait for the day. Easter had gradually assumed a towering significance for Murdo, and he began to fear he would not live to see it. The incomparable day hung over him like doom itself, and he even considered praying that God would allow him the blessing of beholding the lovely Ragna once more. If I can but see her dressed in her Easter finery before I die, he thought, I can depart this world a contented soul. And if, by some miracle, he was granted the favour of a kiss, he would meet judgement day a happy, happy man.

Despite his feelings, however, Murdo made no prayers. He felt it beneath his dignity to honour that distant tyrant with his reverence, and he certainly did not care to enter into any bargains which might require him to atone in some disagreeable way, or attend church more often than he already did. He bore his affliction as best he could, working hard and taking long walks at dusk when his thoughts inevitably turned towards the forthcoming journey… and the ineffable delight which lay at the end of it.

When the day of their departure finally dawned, Murdo was awake and ready before the cock had finished crowing. For the life of him, he could not understand why, this day of all days, everyone had suddenly become so sluggish and slow. It was not as if they were taking the entire holding with them; besides his mother, Murdo was the only other person going, along with Peder, of course, and Hin, one of the younger servingmen, who was to help with the boat. But there were numerous baskets and bundles of food, and several chests of clothing and other belongings to be loaded onto the wagon and carried down to the boat, and stowed aboard.

'We are not settling unknown territory,' Murdo observed tartly. 'Why do we need all this-this tack?'

'Is it impatient you are?' his mother cooed sweetly. 'Ah, heart of my heart, you will see your Ragna again soon enough.'

Murdo gaped at his mother. All this time he had been so careful-how did she know? How could she know?

He could feel his cheeks burning, and turned away quickly. 'I was only thinking of the weather,' he said vehemently. 'Peder says we will have a good wind to begin, but it will grow tassy by midday.'

'Listen to you now,’ Niamh said, her eyes glinting mischievously as she stepped near, 'going on about the weather, when the merest mention of her name brings the colour to your cheeks… or was that the wind as well?'

He glared at his mother, but held his tongue lest he make the thing worse.

'Murdo,' she coaxed, 'you have been stalking around here like a caged bear ever since we decided to go to Cnoc Carrach-did you really think I would not guess the reason? I have been the mother of sons for a fair few years; there is very little I do not ken of menfolk.'

Murdo softened under her gentle reproof. He shrugged, and said, 'Well, we have been shut up here all winter, after all. I know how eager you are to see your friend again.'

Lady Niamh put her hand on her son's shoulder. 'Hear me, my soul,' she said, 'Ragna is a splendid young woman, and nothing would make me happier than seeing you take her to wife. Your father feels the same, I know. We are both noble families, and there is a great deal to be said for binding our houses together. I have good reason to believe Lord Brusi would welcome the match.'

'Mother,' he said, mystified, 'why are you telling me this?'

She smiled. 'So that you will feel free to follow your heart in the matter.' She lifted her hand and lightly touched his cheek. 'I have seen the way you look at her. Truly, a love match is a rare thing, my light. Your father and I have been fortunate, but many-nay most – are not so blessed.' She paused. 'As it happens, I have also seen the way Ragna looks at you.'

Murdo jerked his head back in disbelief.

'Oh, aye,' his mother assured him, 'she likes you, Murdo. She surely does.'

Unable to endure any more of this talk, Murdo turned away, seized the nearest basket, and strode from the room as quickly as his wilted dignity allowed. 'You could do worse, dear son of mine,' Niamh called after him. 'Just you ponder that!'

The boat made landfall in the narrow cove below Cnoc Carrach on the western side of Hrolfsey. The house was built on the southeastern side of the cnoc, or hill, so that it might not be seen from the sea, but Murdo knew where it was, and his heart quickened at the thought that Ragna was so near. To his dismay, he found his hands trembled on the tiller as Peder and Hin readied the pole and anchor in preparation of coming alongside Lord Brusi's timber quay.

No one appeared to notice his excitement, however, and Murdo quickly busied himself with helping unload the boat. They were still about this chore when two servingmen and an ox-drawn cart appeared on the winding track leading down to the cove. 'We saw your boat in the narrows,' the elder servant explained. 'Lady Ragnhild sent us to help you.' Addressing Niamh, he said, 'If it pleases you, my lady, you might go ahead to the house. It's for us to see to your possessions.'

Murdo's mother thanked the servants, but declined, saying, 'There is no hurry. We will stay and help you.' She then directed Murdo to assist the servingmen, while Peder and Hin secured the ship. Owing to the steepness of the cliff, the cart could not reach the quay and so all the chests and baskets had to be carried half-way up the hill to the waiting wagon. This simple task seemed to take forever, and the sun was already disappearing behind the shoulder of the hills by the time the cart was loaded and the oxen prodded into motion.

The visitors climbed the hill and walked the short distance to the house, and by the time they reached the yard, Murdo was almost faint with anticipation. His heart pounded in his chest and his vision swam; it was all he could do to keep from falling over at every step.

Ah, but his expectation was not misplaced. For no sooner had the cart come to a halt than the door to the great house opened and Ragna emerged, bearing a golden cup on a wooden tray. She stepped lightly into the yard, her limp visible only in the slight tilt and jiggle of the tray she carried. To Murdo, however, she seemed not so much to walk, as to glide a little above the ground.