When the Ting was opened, the eagerness of the people was so great that it seemed as if the stars would fall down from the sky were this marriage not decided upon. And although the King twice roughly said 'No' both to the peace and to the wooing, it was of no avail. It was of no avail that he would not hear the name of King Olaf mentioned. The people only shouted: 'We will not have war with Norway. We will that these two, who by all are accounted the greatest, shall wander through life together.' What could old Oluf Skötkonung do when the people rose against him with threats, strong words, and clashing of shields? What was he to do when he saw nothing but swords lifted and angry men before him? Was he not compelled to promise his daughter away if he would keep his life and his crown? Must he not swear to send the Princess to Kungahälla next summer to meet King Olaf there? In this way the whole people helped to further Ingegerd's love. But no one helped Astrid to the attainment of her happiness; no one asked her about her love. And yet it lived--it lived like the child of the poor fisherman's widow, in want and need; but all the same it grew, happily and hopefully. It grew and thrived, for in Astrid's soul there were, as at the sea, fresh air and light and breezy waves. II In the rich city of Kungahälla, far away at the border, was the old castle of the kings. It was surrounded by green ramparts. Huge stones stood as sentinels outside the gates, and in the courtyard grew an oak large enough to shelter under its branches all the King's henchmen. The whole space inside the ramparts was covered with long, low wooden houses. They were so old that grass grew on the ridges of the roofs. The beams in the walls were made from the thickest trees of the forest, silver-white with age. In the beginning of the summer Olaf Haraldsson came to Kungahälla, and he gathered together in the castle everything necessary for the celebration of his marriage. For several weeks peasants came crowding up the long street, bringing gifts: butter in tubs, cheese in sacks, hops and salt, roots and flour. After the gifts had been brought to the castle, there was a continual procession of wedding guests through the street. There were great men and women on side-saddles, with a numerous retinue of servants and serfs. Then came hosts of players and singers, and the reciters of the Sagas. Merchants came all the way from Venderland and Gardarike, to tempt the King with bridal gifts. When these processions for two whole weeks had filled the town with noise and bustle they only awaited the last procession, the bride's. But the bridal procession was long in coming. Every day they expected that she would come ashore at the King's Landing-Stage, and from there, headed by drum and fife, and followed by merry swains and serious priests, proceed up the street to the King's Castle. But the bride's procession came not.