The Iron Chariot
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"That sound of wheels, gradually stifled by the forest until it faded away, brought back one of the strange little incidents of the previous night: my meeting with the fisherman. I recalled that he, too, had come from the moor, and like me had stood listening to the sound of distant, rolling wheels. But what was it he spoke of? The Iron Chariot... I saw him before me again, standing in the dark, small, hunched, shaking his head at my question: Who owns the Iron Chariot? "Yes, who owns it," he had said".Summertime, and at a small seaside guesthouse, living is easy. The guests sit on the veranda...
"That sound of wheels, gradually stifled by the forest until it faded away, brought back one of the strange little incidents of the previous night: my meeting with the fisherman. I recalled that he, too, had come from the moor, and like me had stood listening to the sound of distant, rolling wheels. But what was it he spoke of? The Iron Chariot... I saw him before me again, standing in the dark, small, hunched, shaking his head at my question: Who owns the Iron Chariot? "Yes, who owns it," he had said".Summertime, and at a small seaside guesthouse, living is easy. The guests sit on the veranda and recharge their batteries before the city's hustle starts again. One of them is the narrator, an author, who loves the ladies and has set his sights on the squire's sister: Hilde of Gjærnes Manor. One evening, he sets out to woo her, but is surprisingly turned away at the gates. Returning to the guesthouse through the forest, he suddenly hears a deafening, ghostly clanging sound. It is the iron carriage in which old landowner Gjærnes drove himself to death. According to legend, the sound of the iron carriage means one thing: someone will die"
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