As Liv and Åsne came down the last stretch of trail, their packhorse whinnied in greeting. Åsne shaded her eyes against the westering sun. Someone else had just ridden into Homme's yard and was dismounting near the barn. "Aslak!" she cried, and broke into a run.

After they broke from a hug, she asked, "Well?"

Aslak grinned and patted his jacket pocket. "All set."

Liv cocked an eye as she led the packhorse past. "Surprise, surprise," she murmured, then raised her voice. "A little help here, perhaps?"

The three of them unloaded parcel after parcel of flatbread. "I don't have to ask what you've been doing," Aslak said, sniffing at the aroma. "But where?"

"At Byggland," Åsne said. "Flatbread-baking for the past five days, Mor and Sigrid and I – and Guro."

"From Brekke?"

"Ja. Four mouths to feed at Brekke, but she's only seventeen and not very skilled with the roller yet. It goes much faster for everyone when many hands join in." Åsne's lips stretched thin. "And she needs a break from that husband of hers."

"Hard Knut."

"Hard indeed," Liv said. "Poor girl. She has bruises on her arms. Finger marks. Someone needs to straighten that man out."

Aslak grimaced. "I just saw the priest today. If I'd known, I could have told him."

"You'll be seeing him again soon, if I'm guessing right," Liv said.

The sweethearts both grinned. "I'll tell him then," Aslak said.

Halvor called down from the hayloft. "Øy, wanderer, what's the news from town?"

Aslak waved a sheaf of yellowing paper. "War and peace and the price of wheat."

After horses were stabled, brushed, and fed, the folk at Homme supped and pored over Aslak's newspapers. The three-year-old paper told more about that war in Amerika. At the battle of Yorktown, French troops had joined George Washington's forces in attacking the British general's base in Virginia. A French fleet provided sea support and fended off the reinforcements answering General Cornwallis' call. The British surrendered that battle, but both sides were so exhausted that war efforts sputtered out.

The other paper, only twelve months past printing, announced Amerika's independence, won in 1783's Treaty of Paris. "Great Britain gave the United States all the land from the mountains of--" Aslak stumbled over the pronunciation as he read from his crumpled newspaper, "Appalachia to the river of, hmm, Missi-pissi. "

"Missi-pissi?" Åsne laughed. "'Squint and pee'!"

"Indian words, I think," Aslak said.

"Let me see," Liv said. "Nei, nei, it's Missi-sippi."

"Then it means, 'Squint and whine'!"

"The Indians don't speak Norse," Aslak growled. "It means something else entirely."

"Now you are missig-sippig," Åsne said with a giggle.

"Better than missig-pissig," Aslak said. He grabbed Åsne's hand. "Here comes my brother at last. Let's go hide in the Garden of Eden while he talks with your father."

Halvor strode to the door to see Knut of Dalen riding into the courtyard. "Now what would your brother need to consult me about?" he asked with a grin as he slapped Aslak on the back. "Think you've finally saved up enough money, have you? What if I've raised my price?"

"Far!" Åsne chided. "Don't make it sound as if you're selling another colt." The two took off in the other direction, heading for the loft.

Liv smiled. Halvor had no intention of making things difficult for the couple. He had even offered to let them take one of Homme's two outfarms and forget about the traditional bride-price, but Aslak insisted on pulling his own weight, even if it meant just scraping along.

.

BEHIND THE SCENES

Remember, Halvor of Homme (Liv's second husband) is the brother of Tarald, who married Liv's daughter Sigrid from her first marriage. When Halvor's parents left him the Homme farm around 1759, they moved to Uddedalen farm, overlooking Lake Bandak. Tarald and Sigrid lived at Uddedalen, too, for a few years, then in 1772 moved to one of the two farms at Byggland.