The Greenlanders Part 21

It was the case that Gunnar had not actually visited Gunnars Stead since removing himself to Lavrans Stead-that is, for the entire life of Kollgrim Gunnarsson, some thirty winters-and when he and Jon Andres and the servingmen came on their horses around the hillside, and the broad fields of Gunnars Stead with their peaceful buildings lay spread before him, he stopped and gazed and knew not what to say, for indeed, the steading had a wide and pleasant aspect. The blue of the sky was cast back by the blue of the lakes that dotted the fields, and the ancient water system ran through the thick gra.s.s, glinting here and there. The great hillside where he had gone to gather blueberries with Margret, and where he had later gone to kill Skuli Gudmundsson, rose, pale and serene, off to the west, and the sun shone upon it. Now he gave his horse a little kick, and the animal trotted into the scene that Gunnar had just been gazing upon, and it seemed to him that he was indeed an unlucky man, but that his ill luck had always taken this lovely shape, so that as it destroyed him, still he clutched it to his breast.

Kollgrim took no interest in their plans for his defense, and they got little satisfaction from him, and so, though they lingered through the day, at last, toward evening, all agreed that there was no more to be said on this subject. Gunnar and Jon Andres returned to Ketils Stead for the night. And now, after their evening meat, when Helga and the child Gunnhild had gone to their bedcloset, and all of the servants as well, Gunnar and Jon Andres sat on the slope that looked from the steading down toward the water of the lake.

Gunnar said, "It seems to me that I have never told you a tale, although it is my habit to tell such tales as I know."

Jon Andres looked at him with some pleasure, and said, "It would please me to hear such a tale as you might have told my Helga when she was a child."

"I will tell this one, then. It is said by folk that some seventy-five winters ago, when my father Asgeir was a boy and folk still lived on the farmsteads of the western settlement, there was a certain man there named Kari, who went out one spring and slew a great she-bear, the greatest that was ever taken in Greenland. This bear was some ten ells from nose to tail and stood on her hind legs as tall as two men. But her cub, which Kari saw after he had made the kill, was as tiny as a puppy, and so Kari, who was a softhearted fellow after all, forbore to kill it, and took it home with him. But instead of putting it in the byre, he brought it into the steading. Now Kari's wife, whose name was Hjordis, had a new baby at the breast, and Kari gave her the following choice, she could either suckle the bear and the child together, or she could milk herself and and feed the bear through an eagle's quill, as folk do when a child is unable to suck. This woman Hjordis was a lazy and not very particular sort of person, and so she chose to suckle the bear and the child together."

Gunnar's voice was nearly a whisper, as if he were speaking to children huddled together in the bedcloset, and Jon Andres moved closer and closed his eyes, for indeed, he had had a fondness for tales as a boy, though gossip had been more the rule with Vigdis and Erlend than tales had been.

"Now the baby and the bear grew apace, and each looked at the other while they were suckling, and each thought that the other was his brother, or himself, and the two began to chatter to each other, bear and boy. Kari was rather pleased with this, and Hjordis, too, but the priest of the parish was less pleased, for men must look upward to the angels, rather than downward to the beasts. Even so, Kari and Hjordis paid little attention to the priest. They named the bear Bjorn, and the boy's name was Ulf. It happened that after the bear came, Hjordis had no more children, and so they looked upon these two as their children.

"The boy, as it turned out, was not so handsome, for he had a squint and a humped back. But the bear was a beautiful bear, with long, soft, white fur that glowed in the light and the dark, and he had a shiny black nose and large, shiny brown eyes, and they were not the eyes of a wild beast, which communicate nothing to men, for there is a veil between them that G.o.d Himself put there. Bjorn's eyes were the eyes of a dog or a horse when such a beast looks longingly at a man and seems about to speak.

"Now, when the bear was four or five winters old, which is about full-grown for a bear, Kari bethought himself, and said to Hjordis, 'It seems to me that we cannot keep our Bjorn with us much longer, for he is too big for his bedcloset, and he eats up all of our meat, and he is no longer content to sit upon the bench for his meals. It seems to me that he must go into the wastelands and live as other bears do, although indeed he is the smallest bear I have ever seen.' And so, Kari's heart was moved again to pity, at the thought of his little Bjorn out in the wastelands. They did nothing and did not speak of sending him away for another few winters.

"At last, when the little bear was some ten winters old, Kari made up his mind, and he put on his skis and took little Bjorn by the paw, and went with him into the wastelands. They spent the night in a shelter that men of the west had built for their hunting trips, and in the morning, Kari divided his meat with the bear and said, 'Now, my Bjorn, we must part, and you must go as a bear, and I must go as a man.' And he put his hands into the bear's thick fur and looked with longing into his eyes, for Kari, as I have said, was a softhearted fellow, and very fond of his bear son. And the bear looked with longing back at Kari. But after that, he went down on all fours and trotted away into the mountains. When Kari got back to his steading, Hjordis declared that Ulf was nowhere to be found, and though they looked everywhere for him, and had the neighbors in, searching, they did not find him, and they were much cast down, for where they had had two children, now they had none. And so they went through the winter.

"In the spring Kari could stand it no longer, and he went back to the wastelands where he had left Bjorn and began to shout for the bear. He stayed there for three days, shouting and looking about, and he saw that nothing was to come of his trip, and he was about to leave, when he heard his name on the breeze, 'Kari! Kari!' Just then, a white bear of enormous size appeared nearby, and Kari saw that it was Bjorn, only he had grown into a real bear during his winter in the wastelands. And Bjorn looked at Kari, and he opened his mouth, and he said, 'Greetings, Kari,' in a growling and bearlike, but friendly, voice. And Kari exclaimed, 'My son! My son! We long for you every day. Please return to us as our Bjorn again!' But Bjorn was a grown male bear, who had swiped fish from the ocean and wandered far and wide and known grown she-bears in the winter. He had little interest in sitting on a bench or sleeping in a bedcloset any longer. It seemed to him, however, that he would like to learn one thing, and so he said to Kari, 'I will come with you if you promise to get the priest to teach me how to read.' And Kari, who wanted nothing more than to have his Bjorn back again, made this promise.

"But indeed, this was a hard promise to keep, for the priest was a stubborn fellow, and Kari knew that the man had never countenanced raising the bear, and that he would consider the bear's talking a devilish thing, and so Hjordis made the bear a large robe with a close-fitting hood, and when the bear put it on, all that could be seen were his beautiful brown eyes. Now Kari went to the priest and said, 'My son has returned to us a changed fellow, for he has been among the folk of the eastern settlement, at Herjolfsnes. But though he has many strange ideas, he would like to be taught to read, and so we beg you to do this for him, for no one knows what his fate will be.' And so, out of pity for Ulf and also because Kari gave him many fine gifts, the priest came with his books and taught the bear to read, and he said to Kari, 'Your son has a very strange voice. It is almost a growl, although not unpleasant.' And Kari said, 'Did you not know? Such is the tone of voice that they cultivate at Herjolfsnes.'

"Every night that this was going on the bear asked for a great deal of meat, so that all the seals that Kari got on the seal hunt were eaten up by the middle of the summer. Then, one day, he said, 'Indeed, my father, your bedcloset where you sleep with my mother is larger than mine, and I would like to stretch out. I fear that if you don't give me your bedcloset, I will have to go off to the mountains, for life in a steading is very cramped, isn't it?'

"But his fur was so soft, and his eyes were so beautiful, and he was so heavy and bearlike, yet withal so graceful that Kari couldn't endure to give him up, and so he and Hjordis went out of their bedcloset and Bjorn went into it, and he lay there, sometimes all day, reading what books could be had for him.

"Now it happened that one night Kari saw Bjorn roll out of his bedcloset and leave the steading, and Kari followed him. The bear went out to the sheepfold in the moonlight, and he climbed up upon the wall. The sheep, being used to the smell of bear, both of Bjorn and of Kari, whose hands smelled of bear after he had been with Bjorn, were not alarmed, and only went on sleeping or grazing, but Bjorn reached down, as bears do with fish, and swept one into his arms, and broke its neck with his teeth, and ripped it open and ate it. Then he went back into the steading.

"In the morning, Kari came to Bjorn and said, 'My Bjorn, there is the carcase of a sheep outside the door, one of my best ewes. Know you of this?'

"'Yes, indeed,' said the bear. 'This ewe was a tasty morsel for me when I awoke hungry in the middle of the night.'

"'But Bjorn,' said Kari, 'you must not eat up my ewes, for they are my wealth and my security.'

"And the bear looked at him for a long time, and he looked at him with the eyes of a wild beast, and finally he said, "But indeed, my father, I was hungry.' That was all they spoke about it, but the next morning, Kari found another carcase outside the door, and said to the bear, 'Bjorn, we have spoken of this before. I am seriously displeased.' And Bjorn said, 'Indeed, Father, I was hungry.' And this went on for three more days. Finally, Kari told Bjorn that he must under no circ.u.mstances dare to eat another of the ewes, but Bjorn only said to him, 'Does it not say in old books, Father, that those who are hungry must be fed?' Now Kari did not know how to reply to this, for he knew nothing of old books.

"That afternoon he loaded himself up with gifts and valuables and he went to the priest and he gave him the gifts and told him the truth of the case, and they put their heads together for most of the afternoon. And after Kari had spoken to the priest, he saw that things could not be as he had hoped them to be, for a bear cannot talk or read his way into knowing what is right for men and what is wrong for them. He will be a bear in the wastelands or he will be a bear in the steading. In any case, he will always be a bear. When Kari returned from the priest's house, he saw that three more of his best ewes had been killed and eaten, and he was very angry, but when he got into the steading and saw the handsome white bear, with his soft fur and beautiful brown eyes, he said nothing.

"Hjordis and Kari and Bjorn now sat down at their evening meat, and Kari looked about his steading. There was nothing upon the shelves that went around the walls except two small seal oil lamps, although Kari had once been a prosperous man, one of the richest in the western settlement. The priest had everything now, all the tapestries and the cloths with their borders of tablet weaving, and the chess set carved from walrus tusk, and the silver cups from England, and all the other bits and pieces that Kari had once had about him. The three ate from their trenchers-some pieces of dried reindeer meat and some sourmilk and some dried sealmeat with b.u.t.ter spread upon it, and pretty soon Bjorn began to look about, for he was still hungry, but there was nothing left in the house, and only some old, tough, and meatless ewes out in the sheepfold, and still Bjorn looked about, for the meat they had eaten only whetted his appet.i.te. Kari was finished with his meat, also, and so he had none to offer his bear son, but Hjordis pushed what was left of hers over to him, and he ate that, but still he was hungry, more hungry, it seemed to Kari, and the man looked into the bear's beautiful brown eyes, and the bear looked into his, and he saw in the bear's eyes only hunger, and he remembered how the bear had said, "Indeed, Father, I was hungry," with such animal innocence, and his heart melted for the bear, as always, and now he pulled back the sleeve of his robe, and he held his arm out to the bear, and the bear took it into his great paws, and closed his claws around it, and with a great crunching of bone, he took a bite, and Kari was surprised to discover both the pain and the pleasure of it. But even so, he knew that the bear would never be satisfied with only an arm, but must, in the end, eat him up."

Now Gunnar fell silent, and Jon Andres gazed upon him, and at length Gunnar said, "When I used to tell this story to Helga, it ended differently than this, but indeed, I am growing old, and cannot bring that ending to mind." After this, they went to their bedclosets, and early the following morning, Gunnar went off to Hvalsey Fjord, and stayed quietly there until it was time for the Thing.

Now Jon Andres and Gunnar and their friends did as they had planned, and carried their booths to the Thing field at Brattahlid, and also all of the weapons they could find, and they came early, and set their booths up near the top of the hillside, above the spot where the judges would meet and hear the cases, and they sat quietly in their booths for two days, while the judges heard some cases about sheep stealing and killings in Herjolfsnes. Bjorn Bollason stayed far away from Gunnar, and said little to anyone who was a.s.sociated with him, and made it appear as if he had a great deal of business, and had to run from place to place day and night. Kollgrim stayed quietly in Gunnar's booth for the whole time. He brought no weapons to the Thing. Birgitta stayed home, for indeed, Gunnar did not want her to see what might happen. Helga stayed at Ketils Stead with Gunnhild.

Late on the second day of the Thing, the Icelanders appeared with Bolli Bjornsson and the other three Bjornssons, and they marched straight up the hill in force, for there were twenty-four of them, and they made an imposing company. They laid their weapons down at the agreed-upon spot, and folk got a good look at what they had, including four swords, some daggers, and lots of axes. Now Thorgrim stepped up into the circle where the judges were sitting, and this is what he said: "I name my case against Kollgrim Gunnarsson of Gunnars Stead in Vatna Hverfi district, for this man has done me grievous injury through my wife, and this injury has two parts, which are these. The first part is that he has seduced her affections away from me, although for our entire married life before this, which amounted to some two years, she was faithful and attentive to me, and treated me as the best wives treat their husbands, that is, they do not turn aside from serving them and they make their husbands' concerns their own. And as witnesses to this behavior, I call my fellows Snorri Torfason and Thorstein Olafsson and Bork Snaebjornsson, who were with me when I offered for the lady's hand, and when we made our marriage together. And I also say this, that I have treated the lady in all ways as fitting, giving her good clothing and other articles of value, and never beating her or showing her more anger than a man must show his wife to a.s.sure her good behavior." Now he stopped and looked around, and took some deep breaths, for he had never made such a case as this before, but it is the law that the injured husband must make his own case at the Thing. He went on: "Now it is the case, and I name the same witnesses to attest to this, that the fellow Kollgrim Gunnarsson was once a frequent visitor to the steading called Solar Fell, where he was betrothed to the daughter of the house, whose name is Sigrid Bjornsdottir, and at that time, the woman Steinunn Hrafnsdottir, who is my wife, never once looked at or engaged in conversation with this man, and otherwise showed no knowledge of his presence, and this was true for the entire winter that she lived at the steading before the betrothal was broken off at the behest of the lady Sigrid Bjornsdottir, for this reason, that the man had a concubine and child at his steading, and this concubine would not be persuaded to leave the steading before the marriage." He looked at Thorstein, who was not far off, and Thorstein nodded his head in approval.

"Now it happened that my wife, Steinunn Hrafnsdottir, showed some winter distress at the steading of Solar Fell, for indeed, folk say that this was an unusual winter, and hard for folk who are not accustomed to it, and so she removed herself to Gardar and stayed with the priests, and went to the cathedral every day for long prayers, and as a witness to this, I have Sira Eindridi Andresson. And it is the case that my wife Steinunn was much given to holy things, and so her desire to be at the seat of the bishop, where the relic is, came as no surprise to me or to anyone else who knows her. But it so happened that with great suddenness she began to go with this Greenlander whom she had never before shown any knowledge of. And for this knowledge, we have as witnesses Thorgrim Solvason and Bork Snaebjornsson, and myself and Snorri Torfason, for we all came upon them when they were together. And this behavior was accountable in only one way: that is that she was seduced by witchcraft, such witchcraft as this fellow, who goes about not as other men do, learned of from the Devil himself in the waste places. And here is another sign of enchantment, that after she was carried away from him, she fell into a stupor that still clings to her, so that she can neither stand nor sit up, nor speak, nor eat much, so that broth runs out between her lips and meat sits unchewed in her mouth. It seems to me that she will die from this, and others agree with me. And so we make our case, not upon the fact of seduction, but upon the grounds of witchcraft, and we ask for this, that the man be burnt at the stake, as those found guilty of witchcraft are treated in Norway and Iceland and elsewhere in the north." And now Thorgrim held out his hands, palms up, and showed that he had no weapons on him, and so Gunnar, who was standing nearby, looked about at the Icelanders, but they made no move toward their stock of weapons, and Gunnar saw that he had prepared to counter the wrong strategy, and that the Icelanders had no intention of breaking up the Thing with fighting. Now Thorgrim sat down, and Bjorn Bollason called to Sira Eindridi to stand up, and come into the circle, and this is what Sira Eindridi said: "All men must know that the Devil himself is always among us, that his minions swarm over the ground like mosquitoes in the summer, that they get into our eyes and our ears and our mouths without us knowing about them, and they carry their evil intentions into our hearts. The wastelands are home to these devils, for they find little rest among Christian men. Do we Greenlanders not see their creatures all about us, in the form of skraelings, who perform evil magic in their little boats? Who put spells upon the seals, and upon themselves, so that they may capture seals at their blow holes all winter? Think you that any man is safe against this evil, if he not strive against it with all his might? I tell you that he is not, and that once it gets into him, he brings it with him among others, a great contagion that dooms men to live among devils for all of eternity." And this is all that Sira Eindridi said, and he went out of the circle, and the shipmaster Snorri Torfason went into the circle, and described again the condition of the woman, and told how others he had seen in other places who had been the victims of witches had fallen into the same condition, sometimes dying and sometimes not, and he cited four cases of this, two in Iceland and two in Norway, exactly the same sort of thing, with no detail different. And he spoke carefully, and soberly, and those standing about were much moved by his tale, and the woman did indeed seem to have been enchanted, for nothing of the sort had ever happened before among the Greenlanders, had it?

Now there was a long pause, when Bjorn Bollason and the judges spoke among themselves, and then they called Kollgrim Gunnarsson into the circle, and they waited a long time for him to make his appearance.

Gunnar climbed the hillside to his booth, and inside he found Kollgrim, and Kollgrim was sleeping and difficult to awaken, although Gunnar called to him, and shook him, and at last pulled his hair. Now Kollgrim sat up, and Gunnar said, "My son, have you had a dream? For such a sleep as I have now aroused you from is a portentous one." But Kollgrim declared that he had had no dreams, and stood up and looked about him. There was no one else in the booth. Gunnar said, "Boy, they have made their case against you on the grounds of witchcraft, and have not elected to resort to fighting, as we expected. Instead they say that you have turned the woman's eyes to your face through evil artifice. You must make your case against this charge, and you have much hope in this, for it is a foolish charge, and the judges do not care to give it credit." Still Kollgrim looked about himself, as if little certain where he was. Now Gunnar went on, "My Kollgrim, you must gather your wits, for your life hangs upon your defense, and in such a case, no one can make it for you." Now Kollgrim turned his face to his father, and it seemed to Gunnar that his boy did not see him, although his eyes were as voracious as they had ever been. Kollgrim said, "What did they say of her?"

"I will not hide from you that she is ill and stupefied, and her state hasn't changed since last you saw her."

"Will she die?"

"They say so. Men cannot predict such things."

Now Kollgrim began to arrange his clothing and his hair, and as he did this, he moved restively about inside the booth, then stopped still, and stood staring at the ground. The flap of the booth twitched and opened. It was Jon Andres. He said, "The accused must defend himself or be lost. That is the law." And the two men began to lead Kollgrim down the hillside, one at each arm, and to Gunnar, Kollgrim's arm seemed hard and thick as a piece of driftwood, not a man's arm at all. The faces of the men below turned and peered up at them.

Now Kollgrim went into the circle, and the judges gazed upon him, and finally, one of them said, "How was it that you came to seduce the woman Steinunn Hrafnsdottir?"

The folk who were standing about stepped closer to the center of the circle, and listened eagerly to hear what Kollgrim would say. He looked up, toward the fjord, then down again. At length he said, "I don't know."

"Did you draw her affections to you by using such black arts as the Devil teaches folk?"

"I don't know."

"Did you learn such arts as these in the wastelands, from skraelings or other unaccountable folk as would be seen away from the dwellings of the Lord?"

"I know not."

"How was it that you first came to meet the woman?"

"I do not know these things. It may be as you say, if she is dying. It may be that the power of the Devil works through me. I know not."

And now the judges fell silent, looking at the man before them. At last, Bjorn Bollason spoke up and said, "Kollgrim Gunnarsson, the Icelanders ask for a cruel punishment for this crime, for the crime is not seduction, but witchcraft. You must make a defense against this charge, or by the law of the northern places, you must be burned at the stake."

"I know not of these matters. Is it not for the judges to decide?"

Now the judges spoke among themselves, and men stood about waiting for them to make up their minds. After a while, they called upon Sira Eindridi to come among them, and he did so. The twenty-four Icelanders stood together in a group, and their clothing was bright. All eyes were drawn to them, including those of Bjorn Bollason, who looked from them to the judges to Sira Eindridi and back to them, and seemed to Gunnar to be talking without listening, and looking without seeing. Sira Eindridi spoke at length and with vehemence. The judges regarded him gravely and nodded their heads. One by one, the judges, too, cast their eyes at the Icelanders, and at Bjorn Bollason, to whom most of them owed their offices, for he had put a lot of Brattahlid men into these judgeships after the great hunger. But, indeed, no one looked at Kollgrim, who stood with his eyes cast down, as immobile as a skraeling at the seal hole. But even though everyone looked at the Icelanders, they looked at no one, but only gazed resolutely out to the fjord, and across it to the clouds hanging above the mountains.

Now the sun began to drop in the sky, and Bjorn Bollason stood up and came into the center of the circle, and cleared his throat and announced the verdict of the judges, which was that Kollgrim Gunnarsson, for the crime of seducing the Icelandic woman, Steinunn Hrafnsdottir, through black arts, would be taken by the Icelanders and be burned at the stake on the last day of the Thing, for indeed, it would be a great sin to allow the fellow to walk among virtuous men for any longer than necessary, for it is the case that in his desperate last gasp, the Devil gains ten times his original strength, and pulls the souls of ten times as many men down along with him. And so, folk remarked, Larus' prophecy was fulfilled, and a devil was to be burned at the stake, and men began to talk about how this would release the Greenlanders from their long wait for a bishop, some news from Rome or Avignon, or even the pope of Jerusalem. Among themselves, the Icelanders smiled.

And here is how the Greenlanders went about burning Kollgrim Gunnarsson of Gunnars Stead in Vatna Hverfi district. They went down along the sh.o.r.e, and gathered what driftwood they were able to find, and one or two old boats were broken apart with axes, and men went across the fjord, and back into the birch woods that still stood in the clefts behind Steinstraumstead, and they cut some of this birch, although it was green and moist with summer. After that, the folk who lived nearby, at Brattahlid and behind there, these folk went into their steadings and found stools and such furniture as was broken apart or otherwise in need of repair, and they carried this to the spot. Two men went to their steadings, and found broken beams in buildings that had fallen down, and these, too, were carried to the spot, and so the pyre grew bigger, but Thorstein Olafsson and Snorri Torfason agreed that it is difficult to burn a man. Not so difficult, said Bjorn Bollason, if he is soaked in seal oil first, his clothing and his hair, and so this they also decided to do, for it did not look as though the man would resist such a thing.

The energy of many men makes quick work of most tasks, and this was no different, for the pyre grew through the night, and was ready on the next day, and many folk strolled about it and looked at it, for they had never seen such a thing, but mindful of Larus' prediction, they all contributed some little object to it, if not wood, then bone, for it is well known in Greenland that bone burns well enough for heat, if not for light, when there is nothing else. It happened that men were so drawn to this pile of objects that they forgot their morning meat and everything else in order to gaze upon it. All the other business of the Thing was completed, rather hurriedly, some folk said, and the judges came to the burning place, and stood about. The Icelanders brought forth Kollgrim Gunnarsson, who was their prisoner, and Sira Eindridi was with him, and he had shriven the fellow and given him his rites, and he led him to the pyre, and Kollgrim looked to Gunnar to be as blank and dead as he had ever seen him, until he saw the pile of objects and wood, and then his eyes leapt out of his head at the sight, and he quickened his step. The Icelanders stopped him, though, to pour seal oil over his clothing, and the stench of seal oil rose in the air.

Now Kollgrim stepped up onto the pyre, and embraced the beam that stood in the middle, and Thorstein tied his wrists together with a thong of seal gut so that it seemed to Gunnar that the boy's arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets. Now Gunnar went near to the pyre, and tried to gain Kollgrim's gaze, but Kollgrim looked not at him. Thorgrim Solvason went up behind Kollgrim with a torch that burned pale in the sunlight and set it against the seal-oil-soaked pyre, and then stepped away. The fire crept among the bits and pieces for a little while, and Gunnar saw Kollgrim close his eyes, and he did not open them again after that. From some of the folk who were standing about, there came talking and moaning, but Kollgrim made no sound.

Soon enough Kollgrim was hanging off the beam in the midst of a great pale blaze that roared smokily around him, ate off his clothing, blackened his skin, chewed up his fingers and his eyebrows and his hair. Thick smoke smelling richly of seal oil hung in the air. Now the beam collapsed, and the flames rose higher with the new fuel, and then it seemed to Gunnar that Kollgrim's flesh and bones were burning, for the nature of the stench changed, and folk who had stood fascinated were driven away by it, but indeed, there was not much left to see, and the smoke was as thick as could be, so that folk's eyes teared with it, and they began to think of other business that they had to do.

Now it is usually the case that folk linger about the Thing field when they are taking down their booths, and making their arrangements to return to their own districts, for indeed, the opportunity to meet with folk and exchange news is a cherished one, and there is always the chance that some late bit of business will be carried out. But in this year, folk gathered up what belongings they could find, and carried them off, and many articles were left behind from the haste. At the last, when the pyre had fallen into ash and fragments, only Gunnar, Jon Andres, the Thorkelssons, and Sira Eindridi were standing about, and Gunnar saw that for once, Sira Eindridi did not know what to do, but kept looking over to him and looking away, but indeed, Gunnar himself knew not what to do, nor how to gather his strength to do it, and so they lingered into the late twilight.

At last, Jon Andres spoke, and said, "It seems to me that we must pour water upon the ashes, and then gather up what bones we might find of our brother, and bury them where it is proper to do so, according to the law of the Church and of the northern places." And he looked at Sira Eindridi. Sira Eindridi looked out toward the fjord, toward the ancient ruin of Thjodhilds church, that Erik the Red once built for his wife in the early days of the settlement, and he said, "Here at Brattahlid, there are men buried who never accepted Christ. These ashes may be put there," and so the Thorkelssons went off to a nearby steading and got some spades, and set about digging a hole on the north side of the little church. And because the spades were small and the day had been a long one, they dug for most of the night. Gunnar and Jon Andres gathered up what seemed to be pieces of bone and laid them on the moist gra.s.s to cool.

Now, after a short darkness the birds began to call again, and then the sky grew light, and Sira Eindridi and the Thorkelssons went into their booths and lay down for a short sleep, and Gunnar and Jon Andres sat down upon the hillside and began to talk. Jon Andres said, "I am little eager to bring this news to Helga, for we were not a little sanguine of the outcome before we came to the Thing field."

"Even so, it seems to me that she will hardly be surprised, and that my Birgitta will be less surprised. But indeed, there are times when a man knows not what to say of the will of the Lord, and such a time has come upon me."

"This is not the will of the Lord, but the will of men."

"The wish of Thorgrim, perhaps, who felt his injury so deeply."

"Do you not see that this Thorgrim is the dupe of the others? Men may go among the judges during the next winter or so, and gossip about this case," said Jon Andres. "Certainly it will be on everybody's tongue, and it will take little to put it on everybody's lips. I have a great curiosity about who said what and to whom, do you not?"

"Nay, my son. I have no curiosity at all."

"Evil has gone on here. We may at the least bring a case."

"Against whom?"

"That is what we will find out by careful gossip."

"This seems an ill course to me. I have never had luck in the law courts."

"But I have."

Gunnar said, "I will say to you what Greenlanders always say to each other, which is that you will do as you please in this as in all else." Now they sat quietly for a while, until the wife from a nearby steading brought them some bits of food for their morning meat, and then the Thorkelssons and Sira Eindridi got up, and the fragments of bone were cool, and these were placed in a sealskin bag, and buried among the remains of the unbaptized near Thjodhilds church, and the place of the burning was left through the summer, for no one cared to approach it or pick over the ashes.

Now Gunnar and the others went in the Gardar boat to the landing place that sits on the Eriks Fjord side of the Gardar neck, and they walked over the hill, and then Gunnar and Jon Andres and the Thorkelssons got into the Thorkelssons' boat, and set off down Einars Fjord, and the weather was calm and clear. None of the men spoke much among themselves, only to mention icebergs that were floating near, or such items of business that no one cared to hear about. It was the case that the sight that he had seen both recurred to Gunnar's thoughts and did not. The familiar snowy peaks and gray slopes with their skating black shadows pa.s.sed on either side of the fjord in stately progression, apart from the effort of the rowers, who heaved and sweated just in front of where Gunnar was sitting. It occurred to Gunnar that such an event as had overtaken Kollgrim had never happened in the sight of these slopes before, for all the dangers of the hunt, and for all the pleasure Greenlanders took in fighting and killing each other, and for this reason it seemed not to have happened, in fact. Certainly he felt little grief and less anger. The punishment had fit the crime fantastically, like a huge man's robe on a tiny child. Gunnar knew not how to think of it, or to feel it, or, for that matter, to speak of it to Birgitta. Such were his idle thoughts as the boat slid nearer and nearer to the Ketils Stead landing. And it seemed to him that he felt the parting with his son-in-law and former enemy more than he felt the parting with his son, for indeed, tears came into his eyes to see the familiar supple figure and the well-known curly head turn away from the boat and begin to climb the gra.s.sy slope that led to the steading.

Now Gunnar took his place at the oars, and the mountains, darkening with nightfall, began to recede from his gaze and disappear, leaving only the light of the water and the glow of the icebergs floating here and there. Skeggi Thorkelsson said, "Gunnar, the long day is ending, and my father Thorkel will be pleased if we bring you to Hestur Stead for what remains of the night." But Gunnar refused this offer, and so some while later, they put him down at the landing, where folk who do not care to row around the wide spit of land that folds about Hvalsey begin their trek through the valley that leads to Lavrans Stead. And when they put him down here, the sky was as dark as it gets in midsummer, but light enough for him to see his way.

He was an old man, some fifty-six winters old, and he had repeated every step he was making myriad times before, and yet he was born like a baby into a new life, and each step toward Lavrans Stead was unsteady and frightening. Each glance ahead into the night was an effort to see into the future, which men cannot see, though they think to themselves that they can make familiar furniture out of the shapes before them. He stopped and looked about. A great storm of grief was waiting for him at his steading that he must lean into, as a man leans into the wind, and closes his eyes against the ice that flies in his face. As calm as this night was to him, threading his path between the mountains that rose on either side, just so violent would be this storm inside his steading, and it would lift him up and suck the breath from his corpus and set him down some other place, as another man, and though he walked eagerly, he also quailed before this storm. He saw that grief would be the gift that Birgitta would give him, as once before she had given him herself as a girl, then his own life, then his children, then herself again as an old woman. And it was the case that he must reach out his hands and take this gift with the same eagerness as any other gift. He came out at the top of the slope above the steading and saw that the sun was already brightening the sky above Hreiney. Now he paused for a moment, then he went on, and came to the steading.

Toward the feast of St. Lavrans, the old woman Birgitta Lavransdottir of Lavrans Stead took a long knife made of sharpened bone, and opened a great wound in her belly, although considering her age and her frailty, folk were much surprised that she had the strength to do this. She gave up much blood, and grew very ill after this incident, but lingered without dying, and then gained some of her strength back. Some folk considered that she performed this act out of grief over the death of Kollgrim Gunnarsson, and some considered that she performed it out of shame at his crime and execution. In the fall, she came into possession of a bird arrow and succeeded in driving it into her breast so that it pierced her heart and she died from this. Folk considered, as they do, that perhaps this was the best thing after all, if her grief was so great, although, of course, self-murder is a sin and affront to the Lord, and bars the soul from the hope of Heaven.

Now the winter came on, and it was much different from the previous one, being very snowy in every district. There was a great deal of visiting from steading to steading and district to district, for the fine days were still and pleasant for skiing. After Yule, Gunnar Asgeirsson and Johanna Gunnarsdottir piled all of their furnishings on a great sledge that could be pulled through the valley that leads to Einars Fjord, and they and some of their men servants pulled these things behind them. At the landing beside Einars Fjord, which was frozen, Skeggi Thorkelsson met them with three horses, and the horses pulled the sledge the rest of the way to Gunnars Stead, where Gunnar had decided to remove himself, and so it was that at the beginning of Lent some thirty-two winters after leaving, Gunnar returned to the steading of his fathers in Vatna Hverfi district. It seemed to him that although his daughter and his servants were with him, and his other daughter and her children were around the hillside at Ketils Stead, and the baggage and food they carried with them caused a great deal of annoyance and labor, he was returning to this steading a dest.i.tute fellow, and as it were giving himself up to it, that when he would open the ancient wooden door, coopered from Markland fir, he would enter and disappear. But of course, this did not happen. He only lit a seal oil lamp and looked about, then set up his parchment so that he might write something down if it came to him.

Jon Andres Erlendsson made many trips about the settlement in the course of the winter after the burning, and it seemed to folk that he wished to ingratiate himself with everyone in every district. Some folk declared that the burning was a great shame to him, but others did not know what to make of his actions, his smiles, his chat about sheep and cows and boats and all the business of the Greenlanders except the burning. But at the last, they all talked of this to him, too, for indeed, everyone wanted to know what the Gunnars Stead folk and the Ketils Stead folk were thinking, what had been done with the ashes, what had been said, what was planned. And so, though men vowed not to talk of this subject, Jon Andres was so agreeable and mild about it, that they did talk of it after all, and they did speculate about how it had come about that a man had been burned for such a little thing. What man had not gone with another's wife? or at least another's daughter or sister? If such things were to be punished in this wise, well, there would be no men left in Greenland, and that was a fact. Jon Andres nodded and smiled. He gave gifts, cheeses, dried sealmeat. He gave advice. He offered his rams and bull for breeding. He was a prosperous farmer and a well-known man. Folk were flattered at his attention. He came back to Gunnars Stead and he said to Gunnar, "It was Bjorn Bollason who suggested that they douse our brother in seal oil. If they had not done such a thing, there would not have been wood enough to carry out the burning."

"Who has told you this?"

"Folk speak of it everywhere."

"But perhaps only those who have something against Bjorn Bollason?"

"Nay, they praise him for it, though rather shamefacedly in front of me. They consider that he showed a little wit, as he did during the hunger, when he took provisions that had been stacked up at Gardar. Folk speak of him as an enterprising fellow, as good as the Icelanders in his way." Now Jon Andres smiled bitterly.

It seemed to Gunnar that this talk brought Kollgrim's death throes into his mind more vividly and with more completeness than when he had stood there as a witness to them, so vividly that the pictures took his breath away, and he felt the burning smoke in his eyes that Kollgrim must have felt, and his own flesh shrank as Kollgrim's must have shrunk from the heat, and this happened, also, that he felt a little flame in his innards that was the desire to crush Bjorn Bollason. And this desire came to him with as much urgency as any in his life-the desire to marry Birgitta, the desire to look upon his children, the desire to preserve Kollgrim from his fate. He said, "I have killed men twice in my life, and one of those times, the men who met their fates were your brothers. We dug that pit, and set the trap for them, and we were serious, but antic at the same time. It was a great chase, for deadly stakes, but our hearts were high with trickery, and running, and the secrecy of nighttime, and it might have been that they would have caught us and killed us and the contest would have gone the other way. When another man died, the Norwegian Skuli Gudmundsson, my foster brother Olaf and I went to the killing with heavy heart and more anger at the perfidy of women than at the fellow himself. Now I feel something else in my bosom that frightens me, and it is the will to make Bjorn Bollason suffer and suffer and suffer. To bring him into such agonies as a man should never know, to deny him shrift, to tear his flesh shred from shred. And how will I ever be forgiven for such a l.u.s.t as this?"

Jon Andres looked Gunnar in the face, and Gunnar saw that his daughter's husband, a peaceful man, carried the same desire in his heart. The younger man shrugged his shoulders, and the two sat silently for some little time.

Now it became known among the Greenlanders that Larus the Prophet and Sira Eindridi Andresson were much seen together these days, with Larus going back and forth to Gardar in the small Gardar boat, and Sira Eindridi going to Larus Stead, and standing outside and looking in when Larus was carrying on one of his little services. After this, Sira Eindridi said nothing about it, neither for it nor against it, and so some folk were made bolder in their attendance at them. Larus pretended not to care one way or another, but went on, always in low rounded tones, always telling this bit or that bit of his visions, always having a little something to eat after. Where there used to be three women for every man who came to the services, now there were almost as many men as women, and folk spoke openly about these things, even when they were with others who did not partic.i.p.ate in them. He and Ashild and little Tota dressed as simply as possible, all in the same sort of long robe woven and pieced together by some of the women who came to the services. They went bareheaded, and wore no hood nor headdress, but indeed, folk said that they were as unpretentious as could be. After the burning, everyone waited eagerly for the bishop's ship to come. Larus and Sira Eindridi were very a.s.sured about it, so a.s.sured that they did not look for it at all, but went about their business as if it weren't ever going to come.

The old mad priest, Sira Jon, died in this winter after the burning, and was carried out, wrapped in a fine silk shroud, and was as little as a child. The women who laid him out said among themselves that his hair had grown to his waist, and his eyebrows hung into his eyes, and his beard matted on his chest, and altogether, their duty had been an unpleasant one, for the lice jumped off him as lively as capelin jumping into the nets in summer. There was a great smell in his little chamber that had gotten into the very stones themselves, and the cook, not such a fastidious soul as a rule, said that nothing edible could be stored there, and so the door to the place was closed as tightly as it had been in the old fellow's life, and most folk forgot that he had died, and two or three times, the cook made up his dinner, as she was accustomed to doing, and left it by habit for Sira Pall Hallvardsson to take to him.

Sira Pall Hallvardsson was much crippled now, and had a boy who ran about for him, and either sat down or stood the whole time while he said the services in the cathedral.

It also happened to Sira Pall Hallvardsson that after the death of Sira Jon, he found his food so distasteful that it nearly gagged him to eat of it, although always before he had been of good appet.i.te. It was a tenet of his preaching that whatever the Lord gave men for their nourishment was wholesome to them, and it was good for them to eat their fill of it, unless for some special penance they had engaged to fast for a brief time. He had also early gotten a taste for the foods of the Greenlanders, as sour and pungent as they were. But now the very odors of his meat brought nauseating juices into his mouth, or else his mouth grew so dry that he could not chew what he took between his teeth. Those about him urged him to eat, as he had always urged Sira Jon, and he found himself toying with it in the same wise as Sira Jon had always toyed with his meat.

He did not regret Sira Jon's death, for it is a sin to do so, when a man has been shriven and reconciled with the Lord and his friends may be confident that he has received his best reward. But it was also the case that there were many hours of the day to fill that had been filled before with something-carrying food, or talking, or sitting nearby, or whatever. These days, Sira Pall could not exactly remember what they had been filled with, but these days, also, he sat a great deal in the high seat of the great Gardar hall and looked about himself, or lay in his bed in the dark hours, sleepless, or sat in the cathedral, praying, sometimes energetically, sometimes idly, but always with the sense that while things needed to be done, there was nothing for him to do.

When he sat in the hall and looked about, it was his habit to remember the cathedral as it had once been, under the care of Bishop Alf, or even under the care of Sira Jon, a pleasant and well-kept spot, where folk took holy pleasure when they came. This was no longer the case. The floor was a mat of old and new rushes and leaves that gave off a rotting, dusty odor. The tapestries hung in blackened shreds, and no one dared to touch them, for the slightest pressure separated thread from thread, and they fell into bits on the floor. The altar furnishings were as black as could be, and dinted and bent. The high seat itself wobbled, for the joinings were coming apart, and the crucifix had a great crack now, that ran from the legend above His head, through His cheek, down the left side of His torso and His leg, so that the leg was separated from the body, and then through the lower limb of the crucifix. Once in a while a dream came to Sira Pall, in which he was praying with great fervor, lying on the floor beneath the crucifix, as he had not been able to do for some number of years, and the very pressure of his praying split the crucifix in two, so that as he looked up at it, it fell apart and toppled to the floor.

About the kitchen and the rest of the residence, things were in as much disrepair as they were in the cathedral, or more. The cook and the other servingfolk complained repeatedly of making do, of having little to eat or wear, of being cold, of the dampness of their chambers. And the storehouses were nearly empty. Here and there, some provisions, enough for a day or so, were stacked in a corner. The fact was that none of the t.i.thes were collected any longer. During the hunger, Greenlanders had gotten out of the habit of bringing their dues, and Sira Pall had not had the patience or the heart to demand them when times improved. Now folk expected Gardar, which anyway had the largest and best fields, to take care of itself. Sira Pall thought that it might have, with a more practical man in charge of things, but it had not. It had not taken care of itself at all. These were his thoughts when he sat in the high seat in the hall.

Awake in bed in the dark of night, he thought not a little of Steinunn Hrafnsdottir, who still lay close to death at Solar Fell, wasted and silent, but alive. What sort of man might have saved her, and the boy Kollgrim Gunnarsson? A harder man, such as Sira Eindridi, who would have bullied her sins out of her? He saw now, had seen at once after the Icelanders broke in, that she had been about to confess to him that day at the loom, when he put his cloak about her shoulders. But what had he been thinking of? Sira Jon, no doubt, who filled his mind always. It was the Lord's principle that folk had choice in these matters, and Steinunn had had this choice as well. She might have opened her heart to him, and she had chosen wrongly, with poor judgment, to hug her sin unto her bosom, and not trust in the Lord's forgiveness. It was hard to tell. It was always and ever hard to tell with women why they chose one way and not another. Even so, it was also the Lord's principle that His stewards on earth must see and hear and act so that sin does not go forward, and result in more sin, and this little sin, of adultery, had gone forward, and blossomed in the great sin of wrongful death, or so Sira Pall thought, in spite of Sira Eindridi, who was vocal in his approval of the measures that had been taken against the powers of darkness, and Bjorn Bollason, who was less vocal, but no more doubtful. As he lay on his pallet, Sira Pall thought of Kollgrim, too, a man of the old style, full of fate, as lost as if he had worshiped the old G.o.ds and not the True Lord. He turned over in his mind this thought, that there must be a language to speak to such folk, a h.o.a.rd of words that they could hear, and would listen to.

But indeed, he had not found it in time, had he? He had not found it in time to save either the son or the mother, and it was with the greatest regret of all that thoughts of Birgitta Lavransdottir came to him, for she had always turned her gaze upon him with friendship and concern, had learned so quickly to read, in those early days, picking up words and sentences as if she were gathering little stones to keep, had mystified him always with her view of things that were unseen by others, had carried food and pieces of weaving to him at Hvalsey Fjord, making sure that he was comfortable and had some small pleasures to beguile himself with, always she had come after him, and peppered him with opinions, about the Lord, about himself, about the Greenlanders, about her own folk and the thoughts that came to her, opinions that he was drawn to attending, although it is well known that the views of women are worthless and false. He had made sure of her friendship, told her all the best things that he knew, spoken to her at length of the duties of folk on the earth, watched her as carefully as a shepherd may watch but one of his sheep, but then she, too, had sunk away from him, drawn to death by the deaths of her children, and now a self-murderer, unshriven, unforgiven.

How was it, Sira Pall sometimes thought in the darkness of his chamber, when the seal oil lamp had gone out, that the Lord gathered these folk together in one spot for only a long enough moment so that they came to love and depend on one another, and then wrested them apart for eternity, some to perdition, some to Heaven, some to bide their time in purgatory? And how could it be that the soul should endure perpetual separation, when even the little separations between deaths were hardly bearable? And it was also the case that he knew the answer to these questions, that men must love the Lord above all else, that these other loves must burn away in the fire of love for the Lord, a fire that should burn so hot that not even ash survives it. But although he knew the answer to these questions, he did not know how to make the answer part of himself.

When he sat on a bench in the church, praying, he prayed and thought about Sira Jon. Concerning this brother of his, he strove to feel no sorrow, for the man had been shriven and blessed, and had spoken all such words as were needful to a.s.sure himself of his heavenly reward. As at the death of Sira Audun, Sira Pall Hallvardsson saw that it was himself that he had to labor against, against his own regret and loneliness more than against sorrow for the departed soul. It was always a sin to sorrow for the departed soul, for it showed no real knowledge of G.o.d's grace. But even so, as he sat and prayed, or merely gazed upon the cloven face on the crucifix, his heart seemed a hole into which these comforting thoughts disappeared without a trace, a hole that breathed forth sorrow and despair, as vapors come out the earth in places like Iceland, for example. The real case of Sira Jon's death was somewhat different from appearances, and if Sira Pall Hallvardsson could see this, could not the Lord Himself, more readily, and without struggling to understand this sign and that mark?

For it was the case that although Sira Jon never spoke without speaking the proper words, such words as he had learned at his uncle's knee, and in school, such words as he had repeated over and over for the sixty-four winters of his life, the words were inflected in such a way as to cast doubt over everything he said. "Our Father, who art in Heaven." How many times had Jon said that? And how many times had a lifting of his voice thrown suspicion over one word or the other, slipping into Sira Pall's own thoughts the suspicion that some of us have no father, or that there is no father, or that such fathers as there are do not dwell in Heaven. How many times had the two priests' eyes flickered toward one another as such words were being spoken, and what had been communicated then, if not a sense of conspiracy, but a conspiracy that Sira Pall was not party to, and hardly recognized. He readily saw that he was a dull fellow in comparison to Sira Jon, hardly capable of dividing the Peter's pence from the t.i.thes by throwing them into different chests, as he used to do in Hvalsey Fjord days. And he had been a dull fellow all along, never knowing what to do in the days of Sira Jon's madness, running after him when he was wild, hardly doing more than gaping with the servingfolk. After that, when his brother merely refused to eat, or wash or dress, he had been even more at a loss, sometimes thinking it best to force him, sometimes thinking it best to let him be, sometimes seeking the answers to these questions in the man's own words and actions, sometimes overlooking those words and actions completely. Oh, he was a dull fellow, indeed, and he sat on a bench in the cathedral, and looked away from His face, and cursed his own dullness. He was a dull fellow who stood with his hands outstretched before him, and what he wished to fall into them he had no idea of.

Here was another of his sins, that he longed to care for Sira Jon, still; that he would have called back the other man's suffering if he could have called back his life, so that he could have brought his meat to him, and held his arm under the other's head, and spooned his broth into his mouth, and smoothed the lengths of wadmal that were spread over his pallet, and carried him to the chamber pot, and done for him all the other services that had filled his days for so many years; so that he might have prayed with him more convincingly, and drained the other man's words of those doubting tones that he now thought of without ceasing, when he was sitting on a bench in the cathedral, and repeating those same prayers himself.

Sometimes, out of doors, looking at the dark faces of the mountains looming over the blue fjords and the green strips of pasture, he considered Erik the Red, who held onto his faith in the old G.o.ds until death, and it seemed to him that such events as had overtaken the Greenlanders would hardly have surprised him. Darkness, darkness. That's what Erik expected: Odin paid with his eye for a little insight, and the measure of the strength he gave away was the measure of how short he was to be when Fenrir snapped his chain and the powers of evil came forth to battle the Aesir. Old stories. Sira Pall Hallvardsson knew little about them, and cared not to think upon them.

Now the boy came to him with news that the cook was looking for him, and Sira Pall Hallvardsson lifted himself carefully, with the boy's help, and took his sticks, and made his way toward the kitchen. As difficult as it was sometimes to move, his very slowness pa.s.sed the time, and the attention he must pay to his movements so as to mitigate the pain of them occupied his thoughts.

When he came out of the cathedral, Sira Pall Hallvardsson saw that Bjorn Bollason and Larus the Prophet had come, and that they and Sira Eindridi were deep in talk, but not so deep that Bjorn Bollason did not break off at once, and make his way across the gra.s.s to Sira Pall Hallvardsson. This was Bjorn Bollason's way, always to show respect and concern, and it was Sira Pall Hallvardsson's way always to be charmed by the other fellow's manner, charmed in spite of the distrust he felt for the lawspeaker. Now Bjorn Bollason came forward quickly, with a great grin upon his face, and he said, "Well met, Sira Pall Hallvardsson. I come to announce the betrothal of my daughter Sigrid, and indeed, may this be the last such announcement I have to make. The fellow seems to have enough resolution for the both of them, and he has subdued her with jokes and rhymes and merriment, so that she knows not what to think, or at least, what to say."

"That is a good state for a wife to be in, folk say."

"Few are, though. But Signy is pleased with this betrothal. The man is Thorstein Olafsson the Icelander."

"I cannot say that this bit of news surprises me." Sira Pall Hallvardsson saw that Bjorn was beside himself with pleasure at this news, and indeed, of all the Icelanders, only Snorri Torfason, the shipmaster, was a more powerful or respectable man. It was a marriage to please anyone, especially after the cloud cast upon Sigrid's marital prospects by the death of the man Kollgrim, even though that betrothal had been broken off long before his crime was committed. Sira Pall smiled, and said, "After many a storm, sometimes the little ship does come into harbor."

"And there is this, too. My son Bolli intends to take ship with the Icelanders and seek his fortune upon the sea. There is no reason why he cannot learn what there is to know from Snorri Torfason, and then bring a ship back to Greenland. The Greenlanders have been little enterprising in past years, compared to what they once were."

"Snorri seems to have made a prosperous life for himself upon the sea, and I am sure he is fond of the boy, for Bolli is a good boy."

"Yes, he is. I have four good boys." Bjorn said this with his usual self-congratulatory candor, and Sira Pall smiled. But, indeed, what circ.u.mstances had ever challenged Bjorn Bollason's opinion of himself or his good fortune?

"Things go well for you, Bjorn Bollason."

"It seems to me that it was a moment of great good luck for me when I first looked upon Snorri's ship in Einars Fjord, and that is the truth." And so he took some deep breaths, and his chest swelled in pride, and he parted from Sira Pall and went back to where Sira Eindridi and Larus were still having converse.

It was interesting to Sira Pall the way Eindridi and Larus had become friends, where they had once been as suspicious as two male dogs. Larus seemed to Sira Pall to be a sly little man, with his soft voice and his neatly delivered tales. Sira Audun would have appreciated him, Sira Pall thought. It was hard to believe now that Larus had been a servingman all of his life before the hunger: he spoke of everything, from the Virgin to the spoons on the table before him, with such mild fluency. He had the sort of voice that did not announce itself immediately, but caught the ear after a bit, and held it, dropping and dropping to a fascinating whisper, and folk were fascinated indeed at the tales he reported. Sira Pall did not himself know what to make of them, did not know whether the man was a true mystic or just an inventive fellow. Anything was possible, after all, and he had not the perspicacity to see into such things. Sira Eindridi was well meaning, but hard, with some verbal fluency of his own, though it was of a rather bombastic sort, and fascinated no one but Sira Eindridi himself. It was hard to know who had wooed whom, in this case, but these days Larus and Sira Eindridi were often together, and though Sira Eindridi always had the most to say, and spoke in the louder voice, and led the other man about, Sira Pall had little belief that the priest was the top dog. Now they both turned and came over to him, and spoke to him with the respect due to age, and asked after his health and his soul and his business, and the short result of it was that after but a few moments of this conversation, Sira Pall Hallvardsson conceived a great longing to go into his chamber and sleep like an old man.

The news of Birgitta Lavransdottir's self-murder came to Dyrnes shortly after Yule, with the folk who were returning from Solar Fell, where they had feasted with the Icelanders. Margret Asgeirsdottir had stayed in Dyrnes with Signy's brother's household after Sigrid went back to Solar Fell, because not only did she care little to go there, but she was little welcome there. Bjorn Bollason and Signy agreed that it was rather inconvenient, the way they had taken the woman up after the great hunger, considering how things had turned out, but it was not the way of such folk as themselves to turn her out of her place. In addition to this, Signy's mother rather liked having Margret in Dyrnes, as she was quiet and useful. Margret was much cast down by the news of Birgitta's death and kept very much to herself. During Lent, it occurred to her that she must now be some sixty-four winters old, as old as the nurse Ingrid had been in the year of her death. Still she was little afflicted with the joint ill. Only her finger joints and the joints of her big toes throbbed in wet weather. She thought often of Eyvind Eyvindsson, and less often of Skuli Gudmundsson.