The Greenlanders Part 10

"But," said Birgitta, "when I saw this disappearance I had Johanna within me, and it happened that she jumped with glee that I should see it, and therefore it seems that she carries ill luck with her, and spreads it like a contagion, though not suffering from it herself."

"And it gives you little love for her, that is plain to see."

"It seems to me that she will live and they will die, just as she, of all of them, has not become ill in this sickness, and she goes about to all the bedclosets and looks in upon them with a curious and unwearying eye."

But Gunnar would not admit that this sickness was any different than any other spell of the vomiting ill had been, where many live and some die and no man can say ahead of time which way it will go for him. Even so, Birgitta would not be freed of her notion that Johanna was an uncanny child, and she avoided her when she could.

Now it happened that the spring came on, and Sira Jon sent out messengers to every district with the news that he would hold an Easter ma.s.s and a feast at Gardar, to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord and the resurrection of all the souls of the dead into heavenly life, for, the messenger declared, Sira Jon often spoke to the folk at Gardar, and declared that G.o.d had much in store for those who suffered among the wastes of the earth, and toiled there for His glory.

There was a woman at Gardar named Olof, who was the daughter of Anna Jonsdottir, who had been in charge of the housekeeping at the steading, and Olof, although she was but twenty winters old or so when Anna herself died in the first year of Bjorn Einarsson's coming, had taken over her mother's position and now had the care of Sira Jon and Sira Audun, and the cleaning of the bishop's chamber, which she carried out with great pains every three days or so, under Sira Jon's orders, in antic.i.p.ation of the new bishop. Sira Jon himself had moved into a tiny, dark chamber, much unlike his former room, and all of the furniture in this room consisted of some furs and lengths of wadmal and a small lamp, and this place was only large enough for him to stand up and lie down in, and he seemed to Olof to like it very much, for he spent a great deal of time there.

Sira Jon often fell into a state which the folk at Gardar referred to as "out of sorts," and when he was in this condition he was especially alert to every sound and every trick of the light, and he looked at his servants as if searching through them. In these times, only Olof could approach him, and also in these times, he would go to his tiny chamber and come out again somewhat relieved. He would be especially impatient with his steward, a man about his age, whose name was Petur, and rage at him no matter what the news was; whether two cows had calved handsomely or whether seventeen lambs and goats had died, Jon took both sorts of news with equal anger. And so it came about that the servants at Gardar watched their master with even more vigilance than is usual among servants, and the great topic of conversation every morning and every evening was how Sira Jon seemed to be. Sira Audun often arranged his trips to other districts suddenly, when the general opinion was that Sira Jon was out of sorts. Folk considered that the two priests were not friends, although not yet enemies.

During the sickness it was the case that most people at Gardar fell ill, but some did not. Sira Jon did not, and Sira Audun did, although he recovered, and Petur the steward did not, and Olof did, and when this happened, Sira Jon went one day to where Petur was standing among the sheep, and he berated Petur. "Indeed," he said, "you are beset with devils and abandoned by the Lord, and therefore it is you, Petur, who should die and take up your abode in h.e.l.l." And then he declared, "It has come to me in a dream that the beasts of the field and the fjord are going to rise up and conquer, and you will be trampled by horses, then gored by cows, then trod upon by scores of sheep, and crushed in the embrace of a walrus, then carried to the depths of the sea by a whale, but even after all of these things are done, there will still be a stone of evil in you, and so you will be carried off to the icy wastes and left there." And Petur, although a strong man, was somewhat frightened by this speech, and began to walk away from his master, which enraged Sira Jon even further, so that his voice, which had been low, and directed to Petur alone, now rose, and all nearby could hear it, and another man, an old servingman, led the priest away. Someone went to find Sira Audun, and though the door to his chamber was closed, he did not answer a knock, and could not be found. When Olof got up from her sickbed, Sira Jon improved, and he gave Petur some sheepskins. It was this miracle, the recovery of Olof, that prompted Sira Jon to celebrate Easter with a feast.

Sira Jon was much delighted with the coming occasion, and seemed hardly out of sorts at all. He especially enjoyed going among the storage chests and taking out the handsome silks and wallhangings, and adorning the altar and the walls of the cathedral with them. For his own wear he took out two separate suits of vestments, one white, shot with gold thread, for the early ma.s.s, and one gold with scarlet borders for the later ma.s.s. These articles had been carefully kept, and so were in good condition except for one or two small rents where the cloth had worn away. After the vestments, he went among all the altar furniture that had ever been gathered, and found the very best pieces, without dents or missing bits, and he cleaned these himself, with fine, pure sand brought in some years before especially for the purpose. After that he went to the kitchen house and among the storehouses, and he looked upon all of the stored food and ancient vessels of wine, and he brought out vats of honey, and wine from the time of Bishop Arni.

As the time grew closer, it seemed that he even wanted to look in upon the rooms where the guests would be staying, and watch the servingwomen beat out the reindeer skins and sweep down the floors. But as Good Friday drew on, Sira Jon seemed to Olof to grow more and more out of sorts, so that the servingfolk were afraid of his coming, and Petur the steward would not go into his presence. Now Olof went to Sira Audun's chamber and beat upon the door so that he could not ignore her, and after some while of this beating and calling, he opened the door and let her in. And Olof told Sira Audun what she wished to do to a.s.sure good ma.s.ses and a pleasant feast, but she said that she could not do this thing by herself, for Sira Jon was her master and she was a servant and a woman to boot. Sira Audun was greatly reluctant, and Olof sat with him for almost an entire morning, and would not leave his room, although he ordered her to. This was on the morning of Good Friday. At last, because of duties that Sira Audun needed to perform, he agreed with Olof, and she went away.

That night, Olof carried an especially rich dinner to Sira Jon in his room, with many kinds of food and in greater quant.i.ty than he could eat, and then she went out, closing the door, as usual. Sira Audun then barred the door so that the other priest could not open it, and Sira Jon stayed in there, sometimes crying out and sometimes silent, until dawn on Easter morning. When they let him out, he was not out of sorts at all. So it was that all the folk who came to Gardar for the feast were much pleased with Sira Jon, and remarked at how calm he seemed, and even Sira Pall Hallvardsson was happy with the other priest's demeanor.

It happened that many folk carried with them the best gifts that they could afford, and placed them on the altar in front of the finger bone of St. Olaf as a thank-offering for bringing them through the winter. Thorkel Gellison gave a stool, carved from olive wood from Jerusalem, that his great-grandfather had carried from Ireland, where it had come from the crusades, and this stool had many fantastic beasts carved upon it in the Eastern manner. Thorkel was pleased to have survived the winter with his wife.

Snaebjorn Bjarnarson of Herjolfsnes and his two sons who had not died made the gift of a French ivory folding altar, which men of their family had always carried with them on sea journeys, and which had afforded them great good luck. These men gave thanks for the survival of their children, eleven in all, though Siggtryg and two of the wives had died.

Magnus Arnason could not bring his gift inside the church, for it was a large and handsome roan stallion, some five winters old and well broke to both drawing and riding, the best of Magnus' fine group of horses, and one of the best of the offspring of Thorkel Gellison's old gray stallion. Magnus gave thanks for the life of his concubine and his other servants as well, for his skraeling-born wife had died many years before.

Bjorn Bollason, the new lawspeaker, gave a chair for the priest to sit in during the ma.s.s, and carved along the back of this chair, which was made from driftwood gathered over a number of seasons, were an eagle and a bear, for St. Jon and St. Kolumban. This was the most magnificent gift, as was appropriate, and many folk pressed in to get a look at it.

Vigdis of Gunnars Stead and Ketils Stead gave a soapstone bowl, shaped and carved with twelve figures holding hands, and these were the twelve apostles. There had once been a face in the bottom of the bowl, the face of Jesus, but Vigdis had this face smoothed away because she declared that it was a sin to cover such a face with sourmilk or broth. This bowl had been among the furniture at Ketils Stead for as long as anyone knew, and its origin and maker were lost.

Ragnleif and his uncle's wife, Gudrunn Jonsdottir, gave a gift together, and this was a pair of walrus tusks that Osmund Thordarson had owned for many years, since the last time a party of men went to the Northsetur, and also these two announced that it was their fixed intention to wed each other at the following Yule, and while some folk disapproved of the haste with which they went about their courtship, others said that the time of courteous formalities was past for Greenlanders, and that a woman and a large steading should not be without a strong farmer for the summer's work.

Gunnar Asgeirsson and Birgitta Lavransdottir made a gift of a length of red silk, sewn into a priest's cope. Folk saw that much elaborate st.i.tching concealed where the lengths had been pieced out.

Other gifts, of wadmal and weaving and furs and sealskins, were plentiful as well, and many were given by unknown folk, in the dark of the night, and among these was a lovely carved olive wood cup wrapped in a woven blue and white border. And after Margret Asgeirsdottir placed these with the other things, she owned nothing more that had once belonged to Skuli Gudmundsson.

After the giving of the gifts, Sira Jon conducted the first ma.s.s, with Sira Audun a.s.sisting him, and Sira Audun spoke the following prayer: Lord, we lie in our turf houses, As in graves covered with snow, And our prayers rise to you as loudly As the voices of the dead.

Lord, You break the ice for us, And call forth the green gra.s.s, And so we rise out of our houses And come forth singing.

But folk did not consider this prayer as good as others of Sira Audun's, and only a few praised it.

Now at this feast, the great topic of talk besides the sickness and the harsh winter was Bjorn Einarsson, and folk recalled how he had acted and the belongings he had brought with him, and the articles of dress Solveig had worn about in every sort of weather. Folk who were interested in ships and boats, as the Hvalsey Fjord folk were, recalled the trim lines and fine carving of his four ships. Folk from Vatna Hverfi recalled the expert way that he had chosen for himself the very best horses in the district. Thord of Siglufjord recalled the types of food he had sent during the hunger of 1388-only wholesome and delicate and tasty items, nothing from the back of the storehouse. Gardar folk recalled his tales of Rome and Jerusalem and France and Iceland, and the way that Einar always stood by to correct and add to these tales. Sira Audun recalled some jokes that Bjorn had made while settling his dispute with the Alptafjorders about where they should worship, and others were led to recall Kollbein Sigurdsson, and his wooden-headed manner of doing the same thing, so that everyone felt cheated when Kollbein was through, and everyone felt benefited when Bjorn was through. Those who had not known Bjorn, or had seen him only from afar, related to their neighbors what they had heard about him. This became a topic of controversy, whether Bjorn in his four ships had carried as many goods to Greenland as Thorleif had in his one ship, and there was great disagreement about this. The result of this was that at the end of the evening, it seemed to folk that visitors such as Bjorn were too good to be true, and some doubted in their minds that he and his ships and his tales had ever really been among them, or declared that he couldn't have been a man, but must have been a ghost or an angel or a devil sent to try or to bless the Greenlanders, and as they went back to their booths and chambers, folk recalled other uncanny things, both those that they had not seen and those that they had seen.

After the visitors pa.s.sed a short while resting, they got up in the dark and went to another ma.s.s, where Sira Jon wore the gold vestments, and Sira Audun repeated his prayer from the morning, so that most folk were confirmed in their dislike of it, while some praised it even more than they had, perhaps as a way of amusing themselves at the expense of their neighbors.

After this second ma.s.s, there were more refreshments laid upon the tables of the hall, and folk took their trenchers and sat about on benches next to the walls or sat upon the floor, and the business of this gathering was to exchange news and make plans, or to tell tales. And Sira Jon sat in his high seat with a bowl of sourmilk and a carved spoon, looking out over the rest of the folk, so that some of the more prosperous farmers came over and sat near him, as was only proper. But he did not fall to eating, and so the other farmers were unable to eat themselves, and sat politely waiting. Soon Sira Jon began to gaze upon the farmers one by one, so that each man hesitated to return the gaze and seem unfriendly, and some of these men looked about for Sira Pall Hallvardsson or Sira Audun or Olof to come among them, but Olof was at the serving table, Sira Pall Hallvardsson was speaking with a group of farmers from Vatna Hverfi, and Sira Audun was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Thorkel Gellison spoke up and said, "Priest, thy bowl contains goodly victuals, and it must be that thou art hungry, after thy great efforts," and folk noticed that Thorkel used the formal mode of address and praised him for such skill. Nevertheless, Sira Jon only looked at his bowl, and did not eat from it. And now, just when Thorkel was opening his mouth to speak again, Sira Jon spoke and said, "I have a tale to tell," and this was Sira Jon's tale: It happened, he said, that there was a young man named Alf, from Stavanger Fjord, in Norway. When he was twenty-seven winters of age, he made a journey to Denmark and then to Aachen, in Germany, and there he went to the palace of the bishop, and asked to see the prelate, but the guards at the door beat him and sent him away. And so the next day at the same time, he returned and asked to see the bishop, and once again the guards beat him, only this time with sticks, and sent him off. And still he went, on the third day, and as soon as they saw him, the guards fell upon him, and were about to beat him, when the bishop went out of the gate with a hunting party, and he saw what was taking place and had his steward call off the guards. Now this German bishop rode over to Alf on his horse, and looked at him, and saw such holiness in his eyes that he dismounted from his horse and had the young man carried into the bishop's palace, and there, while Alf was recovering from his beatings, the two men held discourses about holy matters, and the bishop was much impressed by Alf's understanding of everything pertaining to the Church, so that when he had recovered, the bishop put him in major orders, and installed him in a benefice he then had in his gift. And Sira Alf lived in this way for six years, until he was thirty-three, which was the age of the Lord Jesus Christ when He was crucified for our sins at Jerusalem. And all of this is known and written down in the annals of the bishopric of Aachen. And in addition to this, folk at Aachen considered that their bishop was transformed by the coming of Sira Alf, from a young man sunk in sin to a holy and virtuous personage, and this was thought a miracle, for in the previous year, this bishop had fathered four b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and provided each of them with benefices, although they were but newborn babies. And Sira Alf declared this, that the name of Aachen had come to him in a dream, as he was walking down a road, and before this he had not known that name at all.

Those listening began to look around and shift in their seats, for they little believed such things of Bishop Alf, who had been good enough as a bishop, but no saint, and had performed no miracles in Greenland. Some also began to eat, because it is not considered improper to eat when a tale is being told. Sira Jon went on.

Now it came time for Sira Alf to leave Aachen, although the bishop and many other folk were loath to see him depart, and gave him many rich gifts, which he in turn gave to the cathedral there at Aachen, keeping only a few things for himself. It happened that he set out for Bremen, intending to go from there northward to Bergen, and from there to Nidaros.

And so, on a day in springtime he set out toward Bremen in his priest's robe, and leading a donkey, and loaded on the donkey were many gifts for the bishops he would meet upon the way, but Alf refused guards, saying that the Lord would guard him. The first day pa.s.sed uneventfully, until he came to a certain shrine, where he intended to make a pilgrimage. There it happened that at dusk a beautiful woman approached him, dressed in the richest and most colorful garments, and she began to speak to him shyly and innocently, but he saw at once through her deceptive manner, and knew her for a wh.o.r.e, and he began to speak to her in a loving fashion, and he prevailed on her so that she put off her rich clothing and put on a simple wadmal robe, and she consecrated herself to the Lord then and there. And the next morning Sira Alf went on.

It so happened that toward dusk of the second day, it became clear that Sira Alf and the donkey would have to spend the night upon the roads, for they were far from any town. And so Sira Alf found a secluded spot and hobbled the donkey, and got down upon his knees to make his evening prayers. And while he was in the midst of these prayers, thieves came and began to unload the donkey and take away the treasures that Sira Alf was carrying with him, but Sira Alf was so holy and so sunk in his prayers that he didn't notice what was happening. And now, when the donkey was unloaded, and relieved of even its most precious burden, which was a reliquary containing the jawbone of Joseph of Arimathea, it began to bray loudly, as if crying out, so loudly that a man's hair might stand up on end, but instead of getting up from his prayers, Sira Alf called, "Oh, faithless beast, your cries are wasted, for they will never change the hearts of our persecutors, nor will they call up helpers for us. Better that you pray to the Lord who created you that He move the feelings of these thieves!" and so Sira Alf continued in his praying, and the donkey fell silent. But then it happened that when the priest arose in the morning, the two packs were sitting, neatly tied together, beside the road, and nothing had been taken from them. He loaded them onto the donkey's back and set out.

And now, on this third day, they came to the town of Cologne, where there is a great and beautiful cathedral. And at dusk they went through the city gates as they were closing, and began toward the cathedral. But as soon as Sira Alf got into the city, he was set upon by murderers, who carried daggers, and these folk declared their intention of killing the priest and stealing his goods, and to that end they threw him to the stones of the street and raised their weapons. But Sira Alf looked at them steadily, and did not cry out in fear, only saying in a low voice to the donkey, "So we are brought nearer to the hope of Heaven." And it happened just then that a storm broke out above their heads, and a bolt of lightning came down and struck the leader of this gang of murderers, so that he was knocked down and rendered blind. And the others of the gang were greatly afraid and they stepped backward and allowed Sira Alf to get up. And the Norwegian laid about himself with his fists, and many of the murdering band were knocked insensible, and so Sira Alf continued to the precincts of the cathedral, where the bishop himself was waiting to greet him. The bishop said three dreams had come to him of Sira Alf, a dream of a wh.o.r.e, a dream of thieves, and a dream of murderers, and in each instance Sira Alf had done the work of a holy man, for a holy man is one who turns away from sin, one who relies on the Lord, and one who battles the enemies of the Lord with all the means at his command. And Sira Alf was received into the cathedral, and he lived there for one year, discoursing with the bishop and a.s.sisting at ma.s.ses in that beautiful temple.

Now Sira Jon fell silent, and began to eat the sourmilk he had in his bowl, and the a.s.sembled folk considered this a pleasant tale, and one well told, whether this Alf was the Alf they knew or not. And now folk recollected that Sira Jon had been among them for some twenty-three winters, although it hardly seemed so long, and they praised him for his feast and for his stewardship of Gardar, which he had maintained in greater state than Ivar Bardarson had done when he was steward. And, with much talk along these lines, folk went to their beds.

After this feast the spring came on, and it was a hot one that turned the gra.s.s suddenly, and there was little rain, but there was so much snowmelt from the previous winter that the fields were rich and thick. Now the time came for Margret Asgeirsdottir to return to Steinstraumstead with Sigurd, and she readied her belongings. On the day of her departure, as she was speaking with one of the servingmen about how she wished to load the boat and how much she had to carry, Gudrunn Jonsdottir came to her and said this, "Things have changed here now, for Osmund has died, and this farm of his is poorer than it was in the time of Marta Thordardottir. In addition to that, most of the folk are removing themselves to Ragnleif's steading, where you are unknown and have few friends. For these reasons, you must find another winter place, or take yourself back to your brother in Hvalsey Fjord, which seems to me the best course of action. But in order that folk will not think me an ungenerous woman, I am sending with you as your own seven ewes, not only five, and all of these ewes have lambs at their sides." And she stood by for Margret to thank her. And Margret said, "This news is not unexpected, for you have treated me with little respect during my time here, although I nursed all of the folk in this steading back to health when I found them dying. Two more ewes than I am accustomed to receiving is little enough payment for the death of Asta Thorbergsdottir, in my view." And then the ewes were led down the hillside and carried into the boat, and Margret went off.

But it happened that the Lord was not finished with the Greenlanders, for after the feast, some folk who had been there fell ill with the stomach ill, wherein folk vomit and spend much time in the privy and sweat and have great pain in their bellies. Those folk who had it first were from Vatna Hverfi district and Dyrnes district, and soon after the feast, others in these districts had the disease as well, and some old people and some children died from it. Then the disease came to Brattahlid and Hvalsey Fjord, and after that to the south, to Herjolfsnes, and though few died, the great result of the disease was that folk were in their privies when they should have been manuring their fields and after that many were unable to join the summer seal hunt, and fewer seals were taken. But even so, the gra.s.s in the fields looked so thick and rich that the priests spoke in church of the way that the Lord takes things from us and then gives them back in other forms. At Lavrans Stead, everyone had it but only Lavrans was much devastated by the disease, and died after three days, and folk round about marveled at how shrunk he had become in so brief a time, for his skin lay over his bones wrinkled and loose, and he had no flesh to speak of, although he had always been a st.u.r.dy man. Of the other households in Hvalsey Fjord, Sira Pall Hallvardsson's household had it the worst, and folk who didn't go much to church had it the least, and many remarked on the peculiarity of this.

At Lavrans Stead it was the habit of Finn, Gunnar, and Olaf to go on the seal hunt, but in this year Gunnar and Olaf were laid low by the stomach ill, and so Finn was to go alone, as his case had been mild and he had already recovered. Kollgrim was not quite twelve winters of age, but he was tall and large, built as Hauk Gunnarsson had been, and he came to Birgitta and begged her to allow him to go off with Finn on the seal hunt. Birgitta declared that he could not, but then he tormented her so relentlessly for the next three days that at last she relented, but without telling Gunnar, who had little faith in Kollgrim's good conduct and even less in Finn's ability to control the boy, for Finn was often amused at Kollgrim's teasing and saw no reason to curb him.

Nonetheless, Kollgrim came of his own accord to his mother just before the departure and vowed that he would do as Finn instructed him and would remember himself and try hard not to shame the Lavrans Stead family, for, as Birgitta often said, Kollgrim was not ill-meaning, and only tended to get carried away, and after doing evil, he felt greater remorse than anyone. Such were her excuses for him. Even so, she felt little faith that he would partic.i.p.ate in the seal hunt without causing trouble, and she regretted having given in to his whims.

On the evening after the departure, Gunnar came to himself and felt somewhat better than he had, and he called to Helga to bring him some food in his bedcloset, for it is the effect of the stomach ill to make folk so hungry that some folk call it the hunger ill, and yet however hungry folk become, they dread to eat, for no one can tell beforehand if the food will burn and torment him or not. In this case, Gunnar was pleased to discover that he could indeed eat his broth, which was very hot and savory-guillemot that Finn had snared, seethed with a seal flipper for fat, and seasoned with herbs. While he was eating Helga sat beside him and began to chatter about Johanna, who had gotten into the carded wool and scattered it about the main room of the steading while Birgitta was in the privy, and then, frightened at what she had done, she had gotten out Birgitta's spindle and attempted to spin it into thread, so that she had tangled everything together, unspun wool and spun wool and dirt. Helga found this very amusing, and Gunnar, too, began to laugh at the thought. After he had finished his food, Gunnar told Helga to send Kollgrim to him, for he had some instructions for the boy, and Helga cast down her eyes, so that Gunnar demanded to know what sort of trouble Kollgrim had gotten into, and Helga said, "None, that we know of, but Birgitta is greatly afraid, for she allowed him to go with Finn on the seal hunt."

Now Gunnar leaped out of the bedcloset, in spite of the pains in his belly, and began shouting for Birgitta, who came in from the dairy, where she had been cutting cheese curds. And Birgitta, too, cast down her eyes, for she knew the source of Gunnar's anger. And after this, for the next six days, Gunnar refused to speak to Birgitta, and the two waited in fear for news of the seal hunt. And no knowledge of any sort came to Birgitta, in dreams or awake, and this made her a bit sanguine for a good outcome.

It was the custom of the Greenlanders to row their boats to the mouth of Alptafjord and hide there among the islands until the seals began to appear from the south in their great numbers. Then the boats would move outward in a line, and go among the seals and try to force groups of them into small inlets and fjords, where they could be speared or clubbed and dragged quickly out before they sank. For this work, Finn was not ready to be amused, or to allow any transgressions on the part of Kollgrim Gunnarsson, and it happened that he tied the boy by his hands to the gunwale of the boat and bade him only to watch. And Kollgrim was tied thus for three days, and only let go at night, when boats were pulled out of the water and folk were engaged in butchering and boiling down blubber. And when he let Kollgrim go, Finn only said that Kollgrim should be ready for the boat when the time came to depart, for it was not possible for Finn to wait for him and allow the seals to get far past them. And so Kollgrim was on his own at night.

On one of these nights, Kollgrim was going among the camps of men and looking about, and some folk called him over and asked his name, as often happened. He gazed boldly upon them and said that all who knew anything knew that he was Kollgrim Gunnarsson of Lavrans Stead in Hvalsey Fjord, and that he had been brought along by the hunter Finn Thormodsson, surely they knew of him, to help in the seal hunt. Now the men laughed, and one of them said, "Is your father, Gunnar, then, a famous man, though he dwells on but a poor steading that came to him through his wife?"

"Any man may be tricked out of his patrimony, and that is a fact. Certain folk, who have the second sight, see that it will return to us."

"It seems to me that Gunnar Asgeirsson is but a murderer and a fool, and Vatna Hverfi district is the more pleasant for his leaving." These men continued to laugh, and none more loudly than the man who was speaking.

Now Kollgrim stooped and picked up a large rock, and raised his arm to throw it, but another man, who was standing not far off, caught his arm and deflected the missile so that it hit a nearby boulder with a sharp smack.

Now the man who had been talking said, "The pup is like to the dog, then. Well, here is one you should meet." And he stepped aside to reveal another man sitting on a rock behind him, eating his meat. This man now looked up. He was a burly dark fellow, but withal he had such a beautiful countenance that Kollgrim was content to look upon him for a few moments. The loud man yelled at him, "This is the one to throw your rock at, boy, this is the fellow who lives at Gunnars Stead, Jon Andres Erlendsson, and a wild fellow he is. 'Tis not a rock that will stop him if he cares to have something he wants."

"Right now, Ofeig Thorkelsson, what I wish to have is my meat, and you are making a great deal of noise," said Jon Andres. Then he looked at Kollgrim. It was the case that although Kollgrim was large for his age, he was still a boy. Jon Andres Erlendsson was just become a man, with a man's stature and a man's breadth. He looked sternly at Kollgrim for some moments while spooning up his food, then he put aside his bowl and said, "Do you know, boy, that your father injured my three brothers, so that they lay in torment before they were fortunate enough to die, and that this fellow Finn Thormodsson was the fiend who concocted the scheme of their destruction?"

"I know that your father and mother gave three sons so that they might have our great steading. It was a small price to pay, or so folk said at the time." But indeed, Kollgrim could not take his eyes off Jon Andres. "Here is another tale. That your father and his second wh.o.r.e were gnawed by dogs. What neighbor do you blame for that?"

Now the man Ofeig began to laugh again, and he said, "I truly think this boy is half fox. He would rather bite than live."

Now Kollgrim looked at him. "Are you intending to kill me, then, Ofeig Thorkelsson? Will it be by pushing my head into your belly and suffocating me?" And it was the case that Ofeig was somewhat fat. Now Kollgrim stooped again and picked up another rock.

Now Jon Andres spoke up and said, "It is not my wish to start a fight with a boy. You came upon us unexpectedly, and we only wished to know who you might be, little thinking that it would have anything to do with us. You had best go back to Finn Thormodsson and forget that we have met."

Now Kollgrim glanced around, and in the late dusk, for this was not long before the feast of St. Kolumkilli and the days were very long, he saw some birds down by the sh.o.r.e, picking among the leavings of the Greenlanders, and he shouted and raised his arm, and the birds lifted a little off the strand, and he threw the rock and felled one of them, as Finn had taught him to do. And after this he turned to Jon Andres and said, "This is the sort of boy that I am," and he walked off, but as if reluctantly, and he looked back two or three times. One of the men with Ofeig, whose name was Mar, went down to the water and picked up the bird. When he brought it back to Ofeig, they saw that its head was smashed in.

The next morning Finn Thormodsson tied Kollgrim's hands to the gunwale of the boat once again, and they set out. On this, the third day, it was intended that the seals would be herded into Hvalsey Fjord and Kambstead Fjord, but it was the custom that all the hunters would follow the seals until the end of the hunt, to make sure that the northerly farmsteads would have as much sealmeat as the southerly ones. Even so, Finn intended to stop at Lavrans Stead and get another suit of clothes for himself, as the ones he was wearing were wet and soaked with blood and melted blubber.

Before the sun was well up, they were nearly to Lavrans Stead, and Finn looked at Kollgrim and said, "It may be that Gunnar is up and about after the pa.s.sage of these days, and it may be that he will seize you and prevent you from going on the rest of the hunt."

Kollgrim replied, "Do you wish that he will?"

Now Finn smiled, showing lots of teeth, and said, "You are no trouble to me, however you seem to folk from other districts."

"It may be that folk from other districts will not insult me and threaten me again."

"Or it may be that they will be led by mischief into doing whatever they please. Folk from other districts often act in unaccountable ways."

"Even so, this hunting life is agreeable to me. I wonder that my father and Olaf don't like it."

And so Finn put Kollgrim out of the boat on sh.o.r.e some distance from the Lavrans Stead jetty, and told him that he would return shortly, and so he did, in other clothes, and bringing clothes for Kollgrim as well. And when Kollgrim climbed into the boat, Finn tied his hands to the gunwale and they rowed in silence back out the mouth of the fjord, and this detour had taken them but a short while, and Finn caught up quickly to the line of boats that was herding seals into the islands at the mouth of Eriks Fjord, and he didn't speak of what he had found at Lavrans Stead, although Kollgrim looked at him with curiosity and eagerness.

Now they brought a pod of seals to a very good bay, wide at the mouth and then narrowing sharply and ending in a low sandy beach. Only a few boats were needed to drive many seals out of the water and up onto the strand, where they would lie, mildly awaiting the strokes of the Greenlanders' spears. But even so, the wide mouth of the bay was deceptively deep, and men who had hunted before never speared seals in the water here, for they were sure to sink at once, and carry spears with them. Now it happened that someone in a boat near Finn's boat succ.u.mbed to the temptation of the boiling seals around him, for a man could reach out and touch their slick bodies, and he poked his spear into the back of the seal nearest him-a succulent, half-grown beast. But the seal now twisted and pulled the spear out of the man's hands, and without thinking, the man reached for it, and was pitched by his leaping boat into the water, among the seething of the pod of seals. And this disturbance seemed to arouse some of the seals, and more than half of the pod turned and broke through the line of boats, and made for the open sea, so that the catch was considerably diminished, and in addition to this, the man and his spear were lost and his boat was tossed against a rock by the swimming of the seals, and caved in.

In the midst of this, Finn leaned forward and untied Kollgrim's hands, so that he could balance himself better in the boat, and when they had driven the seals up onto the strand, Finn handed the boy a short spear, and so Kollgrim went among the prostrate beasts and stabbed them in their throats, and the blood spurted out over his spear and his hands, so that the spear grew slippery and hard to grasp, and Kollgrim seized a large rock and began smashing this weapon down upon the heads of the seals, large and small, white and brown. After he was finished, Finn and another hunter came to him and praised him highly, for he had killed some twenty-five beasts, enough for the farmstead to live on through the autumn at least until Yule. And now Finn said, "So it is become true, what I told Gunnar Asgeirsson this morning, that you are more a help than a hindrance on the trip."

The next day they followed the seals to the most northerly of the settlements, where men lived very poorly and depended almost entirely upon seals and stranded whales for sustenance, and had few dogs, and no church at all, and the next day after that, they returned to Hvalsey Fjord with some fifteen beasts, in the boat and in tow, not so many as folk had hoped there would be, but indeed to Kollgrim it seemed that he was mired in blubber and lost in a mountain of sealmeat. Finn told Gunnar that Kollgrim had caused no trouble and attracted none, and Gunnar looked upon his son with unaccustomed pleasure for many days after this.

Soon came St. Bartholomew's ma.s.s and the sun stayed high and hot, but the gra.s.s in Hvalsey Fjord seemed to draw moisture up from the depths of the earth, for it continued green and thick, and so it was in other districts, too, and in this summer Gunnar allowed Kollgrim to go off with Finn more and more, for snaring birds or catching hares and foxes, and it happened that Kollgrim especially liked to hunt in Einars Fjord, though the best hunting was not to be found there, and on these hunts, Kollgrim caught glimpses of Undir Hofdi church and Gunnars Stead and Ketils Stead and the folk who went about these farms, and Finn saw this curiosity, but after all he said nothing of it to Gunnar and the summer pa.s.sed uneventfully and in the fall the sheep were very fat and healthy and toward the beginning of the winter nights the stomach ill pa.s.sed from the Greenlanders entirely, and no one had it or knew anyone who had it, and at the beginning of this winter there were more feasts than usual.

Margret Asgeirsdottir stayed with Sigurd at Steinstraumstead only until the end of the summer nights, then she herded her sheep along the northerly sh.o.r.e of Eriks Fjord and across the river there at the head of the fjord that was known as Braided River, and then she herded them down the southerly side of the fjord, with her other belongings on her back and Sigurd by the hand, and she stopped at each steading and offered her services weaving and five of her twelve ewes and lambs as payment for winter boarding, and before she came to Brattahlid she went over land along the river and asked at the inland farms between Eriks Fjord and Isafjord, and it happened that she found a place with an old couple who had a foolish son and some servingmen but no servingwomen. And this is where Margret and Sigurd stayed for the winter. As it happened, though, she was too silent for the old woman, who was always looking for someone to talk to and to share news with, and they agreed in the spring that this would not be a customary arrangement but that Margret might return if she failed to find herself another place in that fall.

Also in this winter, Gunnar continued with his parchment making and his writing, as he had done for the two previous winters, and he was somewhat more pleased with his hand and his words than he had been. In this winter he wrote down what he remembered of Hauk Gunnarsson, and his trips to the Northsetur and to Markland, and his journey with the English Monk Nicholas into the far north. But indeed, this was painstaking work, not such a great pleasure as spinning and weaving, his old winter occupations, had been, and not so appreciated by Birgitta Lavransdottir, who complained of the mess, nor by Olaf Finnbogason, who thought it an endeavor of little worth.

Now in this summer Sigurd Kolsson was nine winters old and more, and he looked to be strong and big, as Asta had been. He was a great help to Margret around Steinstraumstead, and she was very fond of him. He had a certain way about him that was unusual, of seeming to step back from each event or object and take it in for a moment before acting. It seemed to Margret that this considering manner must be an inheritance from Quimiak, whom Asta had called Koll. Quimiak himself she had not seen in about two years, since before the death of Asta Thorbergsdottir, and she did not really expect to see him again, as skraelings were like wild animals in this, that they appeared for many seasons in a row and then, inexplicably, disappeared, perhaps to reappear again and perhaps not. Folk sometimes spoke of the vanishing of the reindeer, and even the vanishing of such as foxes and hares, after they had been everywhere only the year before. At any rate, Margret did not wonder about Quimiak, and only remembered him from time to time when she was gazing upon Sigurd.

Steinstraumstead was falling down. Many hard winters had damaged the turf about the walls of the steading so that it crumbled away at a touch and blew away in the breeze and washed away in the rain. Margret had neither the means nor the knowledge to cut turf, even as inexpertly as Asta had done from time to time for repairs. Other things that they had been given upon coming here, or that Margret had brought with her, such as basins and coverlets and spoons, were in equal disrepair, and the folk Margret had stayed with the previous winter had had none themselves to give her, and indeed, the old man had sighed at the departure of Margret's five ewes, though she had left him three yearling sheep, a ram and two ewes. The woman had taken all of the agreed-upon weaving and put it away in her chests, and not offered any of it to Margret on her departure, as even Gudrunn did at Brattahlid, but it was the case that this family's clothes were poor and threadbare, and through the joint ill the old woman had been unable to weave, or even to spin, for many years. At any rate, all of Margret's and Sigurd's things, from their clothing (for Margret had no loom at Steinstraumstead) to their steading, had come bit by bit to a state of disrepair, and between the woman and the boy there was neither the skill nor the energy to put much to rights. The ewes dropped four healthy lambs and gave plentifully of their milk, though, and so Margret made lots of cheeses.

And in the middle of the summer, a boat came from Brattahlid, from Sira Isleif, who sent word that he was now entirely blind and confined within doors, for the light gave him throbbing headaches, but he sent his goodwill to Margret and also a boatload of dried sealmeat from the hunt, which had been especially good this year. He also said that he would send another boatload of reindeer meat in the autumn. The servant had much gossip of Ragnleif and Gudrunn, who, he said, were not suited to each other, but happy enough in the size of their farm, and this was what kept them together. Sira Isleif, he said, was so little thought of by Gudrunn, in spite of the fact that he was Ragnleif's brother, that sometimes he didn't even get his dinner, as an oversight, and then when someone pointed it out, Gudrunn would say, "Well, he can eat more in the morning, then," and not let any of the servants rectify the matter. It was true that Sira Isleif had become a querulous and complaining dependent who had little to contribute to the work on the steading, but indeed, there was too much work, with all the fields, no respite from raking manure, manuring the fields, forking it in, repairing fences, herding sheep, making cheese. Too few servants and too much land.

Now Margret wondered aloud whether Gudrunn might need some help in the autumn, but the servingman gazed upon her skeptically and said that she should go elsewhere, for all of Marta Thordardottir's former favorites had a hard time of it, and were blamed for everything that went wrong, and Ragnleif had no control over this, or over much else, even the treatment of his only remaining daughter by his first wife, who acted the part of a servant herself, though she was but ten years old. Now they sat silently for a while, and then Margret said aloud, "How was it that Sira Isleif could send such a quant.i.ty of sealmeat, then?"

The servingman shrugged and smiled. After a moment, he said, "Sira Isleif has one or two friends among the servingfolk, it might be said, who have their own schemes for this and that."

"But Gudrunn Jonsdottir will be angry with you."

"But indeed, there is plenty of work to do about the place, and experience is valuable. She will only be angry, she won't act upon her anger."

Now their talk turned to others. Among the guests about the place recently, the new lawspeaker had turned up and been greatly honored. He was a very young man, not more than twenty-five winters or so, this Bjorn Bollason. Already he had a daughter and two sons by his wife, who was some five winters older than he. He was a proud man, well dressed and haughty, but for all that much interested in Sira Isleif, with whom he had spent most of his visit, and it turned out that Sira Isleif had been teaching him some of the laws, for he did not know half of what he needed to know. It was said that Gudrunn planned to send Sira Isleif to the man in the winter, since he was so fond of him, and Sira Isleif was not loath to go. But nothing of these things had actually been spoken aloud, only in whispers among the servants. "However low folk have fallen," said the servingman, whose hair was gray and who had a habit of rubbing his fingers, for they were afflicted with the joint ill, "sending away a priest and a brother and a blind man into the care of strangers is still something they hesitate before doing."

After the servingman departed, with a promise to listen for word of any farms that needed servants during the winter, Margret told Sigurd that she felt uncommonly low, for this was the effect of unexpected company, to leave you more in silence than you had been, and farther from others. Such a thing as this Margret could not remember ever having spoken of to anyone, not even Skuli Gudmundsson, for she had always been of a taciturn bent, so much so that all the folk she had ever known complained of it, but indeed, unlike all the folk she had ever known, Sigurd was nearly as reticent as she was, and so if talk was to be made, she had to help make it.

Also unlike all the folk she had ever known, Sigurd occasionally aroused her to anger, and most often it happened in the same way, that the boy would take a notion to do something and would not be moved from this, no matter what sort of work needed to be begun or finished about the steading. One time, Margret had finished milking the ewes and had set the milk on the shady side of the steading, and was ready to go off with the sheep to their pasture. One of the younger ewes took a fright, for Margret made a noise behind her, and she veered away from where the others were standing, and Margret looked about for Sigurd to herd the beast back in. She saw that the boy had taken to pitching stones into the water and called him over, but indeed, he had no intention of stopping his game, or even acknowledging her shout, but stood there tossing rocks as if entranced. Another instance, later in the summer, took place in the early morning, when the boy would not rise from his bed, but lay there with his eyes open, ignoring her, and on this occasion she gave in to the temptation to strike him, not, after all, when he refused to help her, but when he showed no interest in his morning meat. But indeed, he went his own way even so, as all folk do, whether they are fully grown or not, and Margret resolved upon no more blows.

Shortly after this incident, Quimiak reappeared. He was now a much changed fellow, no longer with anything of a boy about him, and on his upper lip he sported a few long threads of mustache in the skraeling fashion. His furs were very rich. He bounded up the hill as Margret was folding the sheep for the night and without speaking to her, for skraelings do not like to look at or speak to women if they don't have to, he searched all about the steading, and opened the door of the little house. Margret saw that he was looking for Asta and Bryndis, and she gestured to him that they were dead of sickness. Now he stood there staring at her for a long moment, and it seemed to Margret that he was much disturbed by this news. Just then, Sigurd came from behind the steading.

Now Quimiak smiled broadly, as if surprised, and Margret saw that he had understood the boy to be dead, as well. Sigurd, not being used to visitors, perhaps, or not recognizing the skraeling, ran over to Margret and pressed against her robe. At this, Quimiak stepped up to her and took the boy by the shoulders and pulled him away from her and turned him about, and Margret said, "Indeed, child, you must stand up straight, for this is your father, whom you have seen many times before and should remember." Quimiak was much pleased with the boy, and pinched his flesh between his forefinger and thumb, then ran his hand down the boy's side, then put his hand on top of the boy's head, and regarded how tall Sigurd was. Then he began talking in the skraeling tongue and smiling. After this, he pulled something from underneath his fur shirt, and this was a smaller shirt, in the same style as his own, and made of white rabbit and blue fox skins sewn together in a pattern of chevrons. This he handed to Sigurd, who looked at Margret as he took it. Margret said, "This is a handsome gift, Sigurd, and your father has brought it to you from the Northsetur or the eastern lands. Other children do not have such things." Sigurd thanked Quimiak in the Norse tongue, and Quimiak seemed to understand the gist of his reply.

Now Quimiak held out his hand, and, with a look at Margret, Sigurd placed his within it. Thinking that this was some sort of skraeling custom, Margret nodded and smiled, but then she was surprised to see Quimiak begin half to lead and half to drag Sigurd down the hillside toward his skin boat. When Sigurd balked, Quimiak picked him up with ease and began to carry him. At this, Sigurd began to shout to Margret, but it was as if she could not respond or move, as if she were entranced by a spell, and she suddenly remembered the same sensation from the killing of Skuli Gudmundsson as freshly as if that death were but a day old and not some sixteen summers in the past. It was not until they were nearly at the boat that it came to her that she could run after them, and so she did, across the trackless willow scrub that caught at her feet and made her stumble, and she, too, was crying out, but Quimiak paid no heed, and simply put the screaming boy into the skin boat. Margret fell down and got up again, and by the time she was to the water, the skin boat was far out into the fjord, and Sigurd's frightened voice came back to her, amplified by the water, calling for her to come and to save him and to help him, and the sound of these cries lasted almost as long as she could see the boat.

In this same summer, a pair of messengers came to St. Birgitta's church from Gardar, and they were the steward Petur and the servingwoman Olof, and they spoke to Sira Pall Hallvardsson for an afternoon, an evening, and a morning, and the result was that Sira Pall Hallvardsson got into the Gardar boat and returned with them to the bishop's residence. It could not be said that the Hvalsey Fjord folk were much surprised by these events, but they were put out even so, as they had become used to much activity about the church, and more than a few of the farmers visited Sira Pall Hallvardsson rather often.

When Sira Pall Hallvardsson came to Gardar, he found Sira Jon locked in his chamber, as Olof had said he would, and when Olof unlocked the door and he went in, Sira Pall Hallvardsson's nose turned at the odor of the tiny place. Sira Jon had nothing on, and his flesh was covered with scratches that he had made with his own fingernails before Olof had had the sense to cut them. When Sira Pall Hallvardsson entered, Sira Jon, who had been sitting by the wall, stood up and approached with his old haughty manner. Sira Pall Hallvardsson greeted him. He had never seen a man go naked in Greenland except to swim in the hot springs of the south, such was the coolness of the climate. Now Sira Jon gave him the episcopal kiss on his cheek and held out his hand for Sira Pall Hallvardsson to kiss. To get down upon his knee and kiss the other man's ring, or in this case, his finger, for there was no ring, was something Sira Pall Hallvardsson had never been asked to do before. He did it with difficulty, for his knees were much affected by the joint ill. The mad priest stood shamelessly and apparently unchilled, for his arms hung loosely at his sides though his skin was bluish. Sira Pall Hallvardsson rose to his feet. The top of his head brushed a beam of the ceiling.

Now Sira Jon said, "Welcome, then, Pall Hallvardsson. You are come to ask for money, I suspect, as you are always wanting to improve your church at the expense of everything else in the bishopric."

"No, indeed, the church is in good repair, and even the priest's house is-"

"It was a sight to see, indeed."

"What was that?"

"After they carried him out, such rot! Mice were living in the bedcloset, and indeed, making use of his hair for their nests and his clothing for their litters. Folk say he was a hundred and fifty years old, and she wasn't far behind. They say that only such a disease as the vomiting ill could have killed him, because of the relics in the church."

"The relics in the church?"

"Those stolen from Gardar when Bishop Arni died. That's why they lived so long. They kept the relics in their bedcloset. The bedcloset glowed from the holy radiance. Many people saw it. But then some mice carried off the relics to their nesting site away from the steading, and the vomiting ill came on, and they were as mortal as anyone, the demons." Now he began to laugh.

"These tales seem to me to be rumors inflated by the pa.s.sage of time. It is true that Sira Nikolaus and his wife lived in poor conditions and to a great age, but everything folk say about them is not truth."

"Indeed?" Sira Jon smiled. "Well, it is a habit of yours to tell me what is true and what is false, and to correct me at every turn, and to contradict everything I say, with that respectful tone, and to deny me. False humility and priggishness are sins, as well."

"As well as what?"

"No doubt you would like to know, for it is generally thought that you are a nosy fellow."

"Would it soothe you to have confession, or to pray with me?"

"Even the boards were rotten, and chewed away by mice. And listen to this. The dogs were gnawing on their bones."

"Sira Nikolaus didn't keep any dogs." And so the conversation went on in this vein, sometimes about Sira Nikolaus and sometimes about how Pall Hallvardsson had betrayed Sira Jon at every turn in the last twenty-five years. What seemed most peculiar to Pall Hallvardsson was not the other priest's manner, or even, in the end, his nakedness, but the persuasiveness of his case against himself, for indeed, he saw now that his secret sin for all these years had been the pleasure he took in setting the other man right, in undermining his self-confidence and stature among the Greenlanders. Even, perhaps, in seeing him go wrong with them and then turn away in amus.e.m.e.nt. At last Sira Jon asked Pall Hallvardsson what he was lingering for, and Pall Hallvardsson went off to find Sira Audun.

Now when he had knocked twice upon Sira Audun's door without any response and was turning away to seek him elsewhere, Olof appeared and said to him in a low voice, "Indeed, he is in there, but he will say that he was sleeping, or he didn't hear you knocking so softly, or he was sunk in his work, or he was at prayer. You must beat upon the door so that in the end he cannot stand it any longer and knows that he can't wait you out." And she approached the door and struck it with great force over and over, and after some two dozen blows, the door opened a bit and Sira Audun peeped out. When he saw Olof, he opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw Pall Hallvardsson, he stepped back and allowed him in. When Olof looked as though she, too, might enter, he closed the door hastily in her face.

Sira Audun's was a cell Pall Hallvardsson had not visited before, and, though small, it was very neatly contrived, with a small lamp for light, a large lamp for heat, an old door set up as a desk, and a pleasantly carved three-legged stool beside it. The dirt floor was covered with two layers of reindeer skins, and more furs were piled in the corner for a bed. Some hooks had been made of antler pieces, and Sira Audun's other robe and some additional clothing hung from these. In a line on a shelf that occurred naturally in the stone wall were a series of figures carved out of walrus teeth. These numbered thirteen, and Pall Hallvardsson could see that they were Christ and His apostles, each carrying his particular emblem, two crossed keys, a winged lion, but they were dressed as Greenlanders. Pall Hallvardsson stood admiring them. It soon became apparent that each man wished the other to speak first. At length Sira Audun said, "I was sleeping, for I have been to the churches of the south. Indeed, I am set to go to Dyrnes tomorrow or the day after."

"You went to the south when this had happened?"

"As it was, I happened to leave a day or so before the worst. Olof and I thought that he was getting better."

"But that very night, I am told, was the night that he raged through the cathedral and tore down the hangings and went about the steading unclothed for the first time, so that Petur could not approach him, nor any of the other servingmen, but only Olof, a young girl-"

"It cannot be said that I have had any soothing effect on him heretofore. When others cannot approach, neither can I."

"But, indeed, you left his fate to servants and boys, so that the shame of his madness was known to everyone."

Now it looked as though Sira Audun intended to continue his protests, for he scowled and thrust his hands into the pockets of his robe, but then he said only, "I am to blame, indeed, and I thank you for your castigation of my faults." After that, though, he went over to his stool and sat upon it and leaned over his work as if Pall Hallvardsson were no longer there, and Pall Hallvardsson saw that it would indeed be a long time before he returned to Hvalsey Fjord, and that his wish, of leaving the administration of the bishopric in the hands of Sira Audun, was a vain one. So he went out again without speaking and found Olof waiting for him.