Svarte was no more of a horseman than anyone else, nor was he any worse. He shoed all the horses at Arnäs, nowadays with the new horseshoes that were indeed better than the ones they had used before. He rode like all the others who had anything to do with horses, free men or thralls, peasants or retainers. But he couldn't ride like Arn, he had to admit that at once. When they were some distance from Arnäs, Arn did things that no other rider could do on horseback; Svarte and his son Kol agreed on that. The horse may not have looked like much when it was standing still, but when it ran so hard and so fast with Arn at the reins it was just as they had imagined Odin's steed would look.
They didn't have an easy time making themselves understood and often had to ask questions that made them feel embarrassed, so little was said for the first few hours.
As soon as they got up into the oak forests on Kinnekulle above Husaby, Arn showed himself to be just as wretched a hunter as his brother. But what clearly differentiated him from Herr Eskil was that he realized when he had made a mistake, apologized, and then asked many questions about the correct way to proceed.
This happened when for the first time they got very close to some deer taking their rest in a clearing. There was a strong wind, so they approached from downwind. Since there had been little rain, the fall leaves rattled in the wind, disturbing the stags' hearing so that the men could probably get within range even though it was broad daylight. Svarte and Kol had seen the animals well before Arn suddenly noticed them, announcing eagerly that he saw several deer up ahead. Since the deer surely heard what Arn had to say as well as Svarte and Kol did, and immediately understood what was going on, they jumped up and bounded off.
Around the campfire that evening Arn asked many childish questions, which Svarte and Kol answered patiently without revealing what they thought of such questions. Yes, he always had to approach from downwind, otherwise deer and boars, and all other animals for that matter, would know that he was coming. Yes, game could hear a person at a distance of an arrow-shot if it was quiet with little wind, otherwise from half an arrowshot. No, he shouldn't shoot the ones with horns, they tasted the worst and especially this time of year when they'd just been in rut. Yes, rut was the time when the stags mounted the does and then the stags' meat smelled strongly of their piss. It was the same thing with boars; you shouldn't shoot the big ones but rather those of medium size. It would be good if he could shoot a sow with many small piglets following her, because when she lay down to die all the little ones would gather around her. And if he had luck and the gods' support he could shoot all the piglets one by one, and they tasted the best.
As the thralls sat there by the campfire, politely answering the ignorant questions of their master's son, a loud bellow was heard from the oak forest nearby. Arn jumped up in terror and grabbed his bow and quiver. He peered quizzically at Svarte and Kol, who sat quite still by the fire, smiling. When Arn saw that the others were not afraid, he sat back down but looked quite bewildered.
Svarte explained that uninformed people called that sound everything from the battle cry of the mountain king to the roar of the troll taking revenge on human beings. Such evils did exist, of course, but this was an old stag that still had some of his rut left in his body. The sound scared many people out of their wits because it was the loudest sound in the forest, but for hunters it was good to hear. It meant that in a few hours, when the first light of dawn appeared, they could hope to find all the does and yearlings that the old stags were after. If they followed the old stags in rut, tracking their roars in the dark, especially a bit earlier in the autumn, it was the surest method of finding does and yearlings to bring home to the spit-turners and cookhouses, for salting and drying.
Early that morning, well before dawn, they ventured cautiously into the forest to listen for the old stag and his does. But it was difficult to walk quietly since the night had arrived with frost. The frozen oak leaves and beech leaves and acorns crunched and crackled with each step, even under the light tread of Svarte and Kol. When Arn walked it sounded to the others like a flock of retainers in full armor. When Svarte didn't dare go any closer they had reached a clearing in the oak forest next to a tarn. They had the light breeze in their faces, since Svarte never would have approached in any other way, nor would Kol. But the tarn lay straight ahead of them on the other side of the clearing, in the direction of the wind. From the tarn the mist rose so thick that they could hear the mighty roars of rut from the old stag quite close, but they couldn't see the does or yearlings except to glimpse them occasionally in the mist. After a while Arn asked, very quietly as he had now learned to do, why they didn't shoot. They whispered back that they were too far out of range; they couldn't hit a stag until they were at half that distance. Arn gave them a skeptical look and whispered back that he could shoot.
Svarte wanted to shake his head at such nonsense but wisely thought that it would be better for Arn to learn from his own mistakes than from his thrall. Curtly he repeated something he had said by the campfire the night before. Aim far behind the shoulder, through the lungs. Then the stag would stand still if the shot was true. Because low behind the shoulder was the heart. And the stag would take off in fright and spread his fear to the others. If the stag was hit well in the lungs and stood still, he could try to shoot another one.
Arn nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, held it fast with his left thumb, and crossed himself. Then they waited.
After a wait that surely seemed much longer to Arn than to the thralls, three stags stood still, listening into the mist. But they were clearly visible. Arn touched Svarte lightly on the shoulder so he could ask with his eyes rather than say anything. Svarte whispered quietly in Arn's ear that they were in good position, but too far away. Arn nodded that he understood.
But then he suddenly drew his bow all the way and seemed to take aim an arm's length above the yearling that was closest within range. He let the arrow fly without hesitating. They heard the arrow strike, but then saw the yearling stand still as if uncomprehending that it now harbored death within itself. Arn shot another arrow. And another in rapid succession. Now they could hear the stags running off.
Arn wanted to run out into the mist to see what had happened, but Kol grabbed him by the arm and then grew frightened at what he had done. Yet Arn wasn't the least bit angry about being held back; he nodded that he'd understood. They had to wait until the sun had burned away the elf dance, which the thralls believed could bring nothing but trouble and misfortune.
After they unpacked their cloaks bundled on their backs, Svarte and Kol wrapped themselves in them and lay down next to a log and fell asleep. Arn sat down but couldn't sleep. He had shot as well as he could and was sure that his first two shots had hit home, but he was uncertain about what had happened to the third shot, although he had a feeling that something was wrong. Maybe he had shot too quickly, maybe he had been too tense. His heart had pounded so loudly that he thought the deer might have heard it.