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panted to the first person to arrive.
    The boy scampered to do as he was told. The rest crowded up, shouting, “Why? Is it Dorig?”
    Gest had used up all his breath and could only shake his head. The young woman shyly answered instead. “It’s my brother, Orban. I’m Og’s daughter, Adara.”
    This caused gasps and murmurs. It was well known that Og loved his daughter more than he loved himself. Adara was said to be the most beautiful woman on the Moor, and the wisest who ever lived. And it looked as if Gest had carried her off.
    â€œWar,” said the Beekeeper gloomily. “This means war.”
    â€œDoesn’t,” said Gest, still very short of breath. “Did three tasks for her. Marry her tomorrow. Got to rest now. Get a feast ready.”
    â€œJust like that!” Miri said indignantly, as she and Tille led Adara off to Tille’s house to rest. “Does he think we can have a feast ready in five minutes?”
    â€œOf course you can’t,” said Adara. “I don’t suppose he thought. I’ll go back and tell him to put it off, shall I?”
    This of course put both Tille and Miri on their mettle. “You’ll do no such thing!” said Tille. “We’ll manage.”
    â€œBesides, if he’s carried you off, it’s not proper to wait,” said Miri.
    â€œHe didn’t carry me off. I came of my own accord,” Adara protested.
    â€œWhat you thought of it doesn’t count,” Miri said severely. “Now you get to bed and get some rest. We’ll see to it.”
    By the time she and Tille had put Adara to bed, they had both lost their hearts to her. Neither of them blamed Gest for losing his. “Or his head into the bargain,” Miri said sourly. Adara was gentle and sympathetic and not in the least proud. But the greatest point in her favor, Miri and Tille agreed, was that though she was supposed to be the Wisest Woman ever, you would never have known it from the way she talked. “I can’t abide Wise Women who are always letting you know what a fool you are,” said Miri, from bitter experience, being a Wise Woman herself. “I wish she’d told us what happened though. Now we’ll have to wait for brother Orban to tell us.”
    Orban arrived as she spoke. Garholt quivered with the noise. From the shouts and thumps at the main door, it sounded as if half the men of Otmound had come with Orban.
    Gest, refreshed with a long drink of beer, took all the men of Garholt out of the side doors. The two bands confronted one another under a full Moon, and everyone inside the mound waited for the battle to begin.
    Orban, who had grown into a lumpish, sulky man, stepped out in front of the massed Otmounders and scowled at Gest. “I want to speak to you alone,” he said.
    The Garholters were beginning to get used to Gest. They were not surprised when he agreed. The Otmounders, however, were clearly very surprised. They stared uneasily after Orban and Gest as the two climbed to the top of the mound together. But Orban made no attempt to hit Gest. Instead, he spoke to him in an undertone, savagely and urgently. Nobody heard what he said. Once Gest, who had been shaking his head at Orban every so often, put both hands up to his neck, with the gesture of a man about to remove his collar. Then he seemed to remember his collar was gone, and took his hands away.
    â€œNo, the other one, you fool!” Orban was heard to say. “The one Kasta—” But then he realized other people could hear and lowered his voice again.
    â€œWho’s Kasta?” the younger smith whispered to Banot.
    â€œOrban’s wife,” whispered Banot. “Awful woman. She—”
    He was interrupted by a roar from Orban. “GIANTS! You —!”
    Gest said something loudly at the same time. Orban seemed to calm down. He stood under the Moon with his arms folded, growling sullenly at Gest, and