Part 4 (1/2)

”It seems to me that you have not done ill to take such a talented husbandman into the family, but in the court of Queen Margarethe and in other great houses in Norway and Denmark, it is not considered ill for a man to admire a married woman, to recognize something graceful in her figure, for example, or to see something precious in the color of her eyes.” Now he touched one of her braids with his finger, and said, ”Indeed, it is rare for a woman's hair to grow heavier and paler after girlhood, but your braids are thicker than a man's wrist and as pale as hay in the sunlight.”

Now Margret felt her face grow hot, and said, ”At Gunnars Stead, the married women are sometimes careless of our headdresses, and this is a shame to us.”

”Nonetheless, a man's eyes do no harm to a virtuous woman, and those things he might do in her honor or for her benefit are no compromise to her.”

”Now it seems to me that we have been talking too long and will be missed from the feast.” And she turned and went inside without looking at him again.

In this year after Yule, the weather grew very cold, and a great deal of snow fell, so that the horses and sheep could not paw through it to the gra.s.s beneath. Because of the vomiting ill a year before, there were few extra hands for chasing sheep who strayed toward the fjords or for gathering seaweed as feed. Many sat beside their fires wrapped in cloaks and furs and declared that G.o.d would have to take care of the sheep this year. In some low, moist places, the cowbyres were almost entirely covered in drifting snow, and holes to the breathing vents had to be dug and redug. In other ways, too, the winter seemed especially fierce, and this was a great topic of conversation until the feast of St. Thorfinn, when a very perplexing thing occurred in Eriks Fjord. There was a farmer named Helgi Grimsson, who had a small farm called Mel, where he lived with his son. One day this Helgi went out after a blizzard to seek his sheep, and found them not far from the farmstead, twenty-six of them, and all had had their throats cut, and they lay frozen in the snow.

Shortly after this, Helgi dreamed the same dream for two nights in a row, and that was that a rank of fire came marching up his hillside homefield like an army of men, and burned everything in its path, including Helgi, who both saw himself burn and felt the burning. On the second morning of this dream, Helgi took down the south wall of his cowbyre, in spite of the snow, and led his four cows outside and fed them some hay. That evening, he refused to put the cows back, although he could not say why. In the night, a fire began in the cowbyre, and burnt up all the dung and dried turf in the byre, but through Helgi's cleverness, the cows were saved. Now Helgi refused to live any longer at Mel, and went to Gardar as a servant, giving his son over to the bishop to be trained as a priest. These events were much discussed, and many watched for similar happenings at Gardar once Helgi and the boy were in residence, but all remained quiet. And so spring came on.

One day just before the beginning of the spring work, Gunnar took one of the horses and went to Gardar, where he spent the night. The next day, he spoke to his usual friends, but was also seen in discussion with the farmer Helgi. Then he came home. The result was that after the spring work was completed, and the sheep were in their summer pasture and the fjords were free of ice, four beams were brought to Gunnars Stead in the large boat belonging to Osmund Thordarson, and these were from the farmhouse at Mel, for Helgi had decided to tear down the ill-omened house, and Gunnar had bought the beams for one cow apiece. These cows were taken over to Gardar in the same boat, and kept in the Gardar herd along with Helgi's other cows. Now many folk in Vatna Hverfi said that Gunnar had made a good bargain, and had not had to travel far to make it, but others said that the calculated insult to Erlend Ketilsson weighed heavily against Gunnar's thrift. Olaf and Gunnar now fixed up the old outbuilding for Hrafn and Katla, and Gunnar let it be known that he had three beams of wood to trade. The peculiar happenings at Mel were never explained, though folk spoke of them for a good while.

Skuli Gudmundsson was little impressed by Kollbein Sigurdsson, who complained unceasingly of the discomforts of Thjodhilds Stead, which were certainly greater than those of the court or either of Kollbein's two estates in Norway, and also greater than all but the poorest farms of the Greenlanders. Kollbein was always scheming for invitations to Gardar or Brattahlid and always asking about the prosperous farmers of other districts-how big were their houses, how much hay did they have for the winter, how many sheep and cows and horses and servants. He spoke always of an accounting-the king would have to know what these Greenlanders had, and how much they owed to him, through his trusted tax collector, but beyond sitting with his clerk, an Englishman named Martin of Chester, from time to time, he made no effort to do this accounting, but frittered away what his neighbors gave him for his support. After a while, these sessions with Martin became fewer, and the king with his court seemed farther and farther away.

Of Kollbein's retainers, all were sailors and city men by birth except Skuli and two others, brothers who were a farmer's sons named Egil and Erik from the Vestfold. These three often commented on what fine farms Thjodhilds Stead and Foss had once been, with large, well-manured fields, st.u.r.dy buildings, and a good water supply, but it was beyond their strength to farm it by themselves, as heedless as Kollbein was, and the result was that Egil and Erik, like Skuli, preferred to be away from Thjodhilds Stead as much as they could.

In this spring, Skuli Gudmundsson began to meet Margret Asgeirsdottir in the hills above Vatna Hverfi where she was accustomed to roam, setting snares and gathering herbs. Always he spoke about her figure and her countenance in a way that she had never heard before, and after a little, it got to be something that she was consumingly curious to hear. Or he told her tales of life with Kollbein that made her laugh, or tales of Norway and the court of Hakon and Margarethe that dazzled her, or simple bits about himself and his thoughts that intrigued her. Always he made her gifts. His hands were never idle.

These meetings, which were neither frequent nor infrequent, had no effect on Skuli's visits to the Gunnars Stead folk, who welcomed him as readily as ever, and who were especially glad of his a.s.sistance in the building of the new house. Only Margret dreaded his coming, but only she looked for him, and was cast down when three days went by without a visit. Sometimes Birgitta, the sharp-eyed, looked at her and declared that she seemed feverish and anxious. With the building and the lambing and the calving and the birth of a large gray foal to his favorite mare, Mikla, as well as the other work that had to be done about the farm, Olaf Finnbogason was often out of the house. Olaf had now grown to be quite round, but he was reputed a very strong man, and he was sometimes called to other farms to tame unruly bulls and stallions. His large belly was hard and his thighs muscular from seventeen years of farm work.

Skuli looked not at all like Olaf. Where one was dark, the other was fair. Where one's strength was in his legs and hips, the other's was in his arms and shoulders. Where one cut his hair short and went bare-headed, the other wore his hair to his shoulders with a colorful cap as it was done in Norway, at the court. Where one spoke infrequently, and then only to make a joke, the other spoke often, about every subject. Where one had lived only at Gardar and at Gunnars Stead, the other had lived in many places and seen many more. Where one would be a Greenlander all of his life, following the same habits until he died, the other would soon be gone, as he had left before. Where one's work was always to be done and redone through the round of the year, the other fas.h.i.+oned now this cunning knife handle, now that clever chess piece, things that could be taken up in the hand and looked on with pleasure over and over. Where one saw the homefield and the byre and the farmhouse and the dairy and the family with Margret among them, the other saw only Margret, or, at times, he didn't see Margret at all, but instead her hair and her eyes and her hands and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, or the swell of her hips and the sway of her gait, or even smaller things, such as the fall of her cloak at one moment or the turning of her head at another. After being with him, Margret, too, saw these things-her wrist, her skirt swinging about her, and she felt a puzzlement and an exhilaration that, as it faded, she yearned to feel again.

Skuli, too, was deeply curious about Margret Asgeirsdottir, and felt keenly the change that had occurred in her between the visit of Thorleif and the visit of Kollbein, so that she was like two beings to him, a woman and a ghost of a girl or a girl and a ghost of a woman. The result was that when he was not with her he wanted to see her and a.s.suage his curiosity, but when he was with her his curiosity was not a.s.suaged but heightened, so that he cataloged this and that about her, but in speaking of it, lost it, and had to speak of something else. He regretted that he was not a learned man, for he had heard poems written to ladies, extolling their virtues, but he could not remember them. And he had heard a sermon once, which took as its text the Sayings of King Solomon about the Church, but these, too, he had never learned, and he was ashamed to approach Sira Pall Hallvardsson with such a request, asking the priest to inflame him with Holy Writ.

In addition to this, Margret was so unlike his wife that when he was with the Greenland woman, he could not stop remembering the other. He remembered her, and his sons, as he had been unable to do by himself, and he longed for them more and more freshly, until it seemed that only Margret, who looked and acted nothing like his wife had done (for the one was teasing and talkative and the other quiet and serious) could a.s.suage the stab and twist of such longing. The result was that in the spring, after the ground had warmed up and Margret's herb gathering afforded her a daily excuse for forays into the hills, Skuli and Margret lay together as man and wife, and Margret admitted that she had never in fact been with Olaf in this way since she was given at her marriage feast by her brother Gunnar Asgeirsson.

Of Gunnar Asgeirsson and his wife Birgitta Lavransdottir there is this to say, that they ceased entirely to be children in the winter after the death of the baby. Gunnar was now twenty-two years old and fully grown, as big as Hauk Gunnarsson and more similar to him in appearance than to Asgeir, with long arms and legs and something of Hauk's graceful way of moving, although he still had no skill at hunting or trapping. For him, Birgitta Lavransdottir was a fitting companion, and folk said they made a handsome enough couple. Birgitta was short but not slight, agile and strong for a woman. Her hair had darkened and thinned, and she no longer forgot her headdress. She was seventeen years old.

One day in the spring, she called Katla to her and she gave her two lengths of wadmal for gowns, and another length for clothes for Hrafn's sons. Then she gave her a handsome carved horn spoon in a clasped case, and praised her for her good work and faithful service. Now they went into the dairy and counted the cheeses and lumps of b.u.t.ter and tubs of sourmilk, and Birgitta declared that in the time of Asgeir Gunnarsson, there had been such an abundance of these things that another storehouse was needed in addition to the dairy, just to hold the summer's produce. Then they went to the storehouse where the dried sealmeat was kept, and the store was greatly depleted, for the end of winter had pa.s.sed and spring was only just begun, and Birgitta declared that, soon enough, dried sealmeat would mount to the ceiling, year around, so that ugly or rotten bits could be thrown away without a second thought. After this they looked into vats of seal blubber, both melted and pickled, and racks of dried reindeer meat, and other dried meats. Then they got out all the rolls of wadmal and all the hides and sheepskins, and Birgitta looked carefully at everything before having it put back. Then she walked around the farm and looked carefully at the buildings, and the livestock, and the two boats, and the wheeled cart, and the stone walls around the homefield, and then she walked across the homefield and gazed for a long time at Erlend's field, which his servants were manuring, but which had for generations been the Gunnars Stead second field and had supplied Gunnars Stead with all that could be called wealth-everything above a sufficiency. She was at this for two days.

Now she was sitting at her evening meat, and she said to Gunnar, ”A poor man is like a farmer who farms on a low island. When the river rises over his fields, he counts himself lucky to have his sheep, for he has moved them higher, and when the river carries away his sheep, he congratulates himself for leading the cows onto the roof of the cowbyre and letting them graze there, and after the drowning of the cows, he thanks the Lord that he has a boat to put his children in. When the boat is swamped and the children swept away, he considers himself lucky to be able to swim, and he loves his luck all the way until his strength gives out and he, too, goes under. But a rich man is a man with forethought enough to farm high on the sh.o.r.e, who never speaks of luck, and expects the river to flood every year.”

”This is probably true enough,” said Gunnar.

Now Birgitta looked at him, and said, ”I asked Lavrans at Easter when his father used to carry the cows out of the cowbyre, and he said that this used to be at the beginning of the summer nights, but once or twice much earlier than that, close to the beginning of Lent. Now, we often cannot carry the cows out before the feast of St. Hallvard, and never as early as Lent. Once we carried the cows out in the week after Easter and counted ourselves fortunate to do it.”

”I have heard such things myself, but often old men misremember.”

”There is another tale you might care to hear.”

”I might.”

Birgitta lifted her eyes to his, and said, ”More often than not, Lavrans' father, this Kollgrim, did not carry his cows into the field at all, but led them, for in those days the hay always lasted through the winter, and the cows themselves went to it and finished it off in the spring.”

”This might indeed be true.”

Now Birgitta said, ”A rising flood can take many forms.”

After this, Gunnar, too, got into the habit of overlooking the work on Erlend's field, and Birgitta became as irritable about waste as Vigdis was reputed to be, so that the folk at Gunnars Stead sometimes laughed and called her over to look at their trenchers when they had finished eating their meat. However, she was not n.i.g.g.ardly, and fed everyone generously, for she had taken over much of the cooking from Margret, with Katla as her helper. In this summer, she sent Hrafn's older boy to Hvalsey Fjord with twenty ewes and lambs, and there these beasts grazed on Lavrans' rich pasturage, and this was a practice that continued for many years, so that in some years there were more Gunnars Stead sheep at Lavrans Stead than there were Lavrans Stead sheep. The Gunnars Stead flock grew very large, and approached the size of Asgeir's flock in the days of Helga Ingvadottir's ewes, but many more had to be slaughtered in the autumn than Asgeir had been in the habit of slaughtering, for lack of winter hay.

Also in this spring, Birgitta and Katla walked to the church every Sunday that there was a service there, and Birgitta grew friendly with some women of the district for the first time since coming into Vatna Hverfi. After this, many praised her looks and quickness, for she showed herself anxious to ask the advice of these women about everything from cooking to conceiving healthy children, and she often lamented her ignorance compared to their wisdom. Some now said that the dull-witted Gunnar was fortunate to find such a wife, but others said that it was possible that the husband was not as dull-witted as he had always appeared.

One day Margret met Skuli in the hills, and as usual they spoke of many things, until they fell to discussing the queen, Margarethe, and her ladies of the court. The one thing important to these women, declared Skuli, was their dress, and they strove always to wear bright colors, beautiful furs, and flattering headdresses, which were not unlike Margret's headdress in shape and purpose, but much unlike it in effect, for men's eyes were caused to look toward the heads of these women, rather than to look away. The colors, purple, red, rose, for example, seemed to touch the cheeks of the ladies and make them more beautiful. Other things were daring, too, such as necklines cut to reveal the swell of the b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and then veiled with a fine tissue, or waists set high and pulled tight. The queen especially preferred sleeves that were tight at the shoulder then flowed more loosely to the hand, and sometimes hung almost to the floor. In winter these would be trimmed with furs of various colors, from Russia, perhaps, and in summer they would be cut and embroidered, and in fact it was this sort of work that his wife had done for Margarethe. Skuli spoke idly, while watching Margret tie snares, and even when he talked of his wife, his tone was light. In France, he had heard, the fas.h.i.+on was for other things more outlandish still-shoes a man could barely walk in, a robe that was more like a s.h.i.+rt, with stockings a different color on each leg. He went on in this vein for a while, then began speaking of dogs, for King Hakon had a great pack of Irish wolfhounds that looked like wolves themselves, but roamed the palace freely, terrifying visitors. Soon it was time to part, and Margret, swaying gracefully under her load of small animals and other gatherings, went off without looking back. Skuli took his dinner and spent the night, as he often did, at Undir Hofdi church, for the ”wife” of old Sira Nikolaus was particularly fond of him.

That night, Margret took a small seal blubber lamp and stole from her bedcloset after everyone else had gone to sleep. Now she went from chest to chest, opening, searching carefully, and closing, but all the chests were newly cleaned and rearranged after Birgitta's inventory. At last, however, Margret found and drew forth the roll of red silk from Bergen that Birgitta had brought with her as her marriage portion. Debate arose from time to time as to what might be done with this silk. Once in a while, Gunnar suggested that they give it to the bishop or to Undir Hofdi church as part of their t.i.the, but at these times, Birgitta always wanted to save it for their children. When Birgitta was bent upon donating it, as she had been after seeing the Virgin and Child strolling in the homefield, or after the death of the baby, it was Gunnar who wanted to save it, and so nothing had been done with it. It was, after all, the only cloth of its kind in Vatna Hverfi district. Margret laid it across her cheek and wrapped it around her neck, then rolled it up and put it away again, this time in her own chest. She seemed to herself to be in a kind of fever that only the coolness of the silk could quench.

Now she watched for a time when everyone would be away from the farmstead, and this came soon enough, the next time Birgitta and Katla walked over to Undir Hofdi church for services, for Gunnar had gone to Gardar and Olaf was up in the hills with Hrafn and his sons, shearing the sheep. Now Margret found the silk, spread it out, and fell upon it as if in a fury, and in very little time she had cut it into pieces for a gown. Now she sat back and the fever was quenched, and she saw what she had done and became sorely afraid, so she rolled up the pieces and put them away again in her chest.

Not long after this, she met Skuli once again in the mountains, and he was wearing an especially colorful suit of light blue and green, while Margret was wearing her same gown of purplish Gunnars Stead wadmal, and Margret asked him, as if idly, ”How came you by clothing of such outlandish colors?”

Skuli stepped back and looked down at himself and laughed. ”My former master would be little obliged to you for your words, since every retainer on his estate wore such colors every day, except those engaged in field work. Such bright dress is much thought of in Norway now, and no one goes about like a Viking princess as you do.” After this, he took her in his arms, and they spoke no more of dress, but their lovemaking did nothing to abate the fever that was once more upon Margret, and she parted with Skuli quickly and returned home.

Now the farmstead was well populated, for everyone was about, especially Birgitta, who was in and out of the house, chattering and asking questions. For this reason, Margret stayed far from her chest, although it glowed in her eyes like an ember, and drew her much as Skuli did. First there was the preparation of the evening meal, and then the eating of it, and after this Gunnar and Olaf sat over their trenchers and talked at length about Olaf's sheep shearing. Then Birgitta sat at Gunnar's elbow and asked him for a tale, so he told the tale of the two women, Gudrid Thorbjarnardottir and Freydis Eriksdottir, both of whom were related to Leif Eriksson, the lucky.

Now this is a famous story among the Greenlanders, for it treats of some of their favorite subjects, namely Vinland, and the kin of Erik the Red. And in this story, there is a good woman and a bad woman, and so folk often tell it as a lesson concerning the wills of women, for Freydis Eriksdottir was always resolved to have her will, and caused the deaths of a number of men, as well as herself killing seven women with an ax. Though this story went on for a long time, and Olaf and Hrafn fell asleep and Katla went off to her house, Margret could not leave off listening, although it seemed unbearable to her. Gunnar finished the story, thus, ”For Gudrid things went much differently, for she had three husbands, all of whom died wealthy, and each was followed by another handsomer and more agreeable than the last, until Gudrid died in her bed with her sons, including Snorri, who had been born in Vinland, about her.” And Birgitta pinched his arm and yawned, and said, ”I didn't foresee such a long story. Indeed,” she smiled, ”Vigdis would like this tale, for I'm sure she fancies herself such a woman as Gudrid is, prosperous and pious. But, Gunnar, you must tell me, how is it that those seven women that Freydis murdered stood still for it, and how is it that twenty men stood about and watched it? This Freydis must have been fierce indeed.” Gunnar shrugged and laughed and so the two went to their bedcloset, and their talking died down after a bit.

After this Margret went to her chest and opened it and drew forth a piece of red silk and a spindle whorl and she began to pull threads from the silk and spin them together into sewing thread. Such work was easily done in the half light of the spring night, and her hands worked quickly, sometimes spinning and sometimes winding the spun thread onto a length of reindeer antler. Once or twice she got up to put away the pieces of silk that she was not spinning from, but each time she sat down again with the tissue in her hand. After she was done, and had spun all of the threads together, she sat with the roll in her hands. Just before Olaf got up for the morning work, she put everything away again.

As usual, Olaf went out while Margret dished up his morning meal. There were many things she could say to him when he returned, about how Asgeir had loved him, and how familiar and necessary he was about Gunnars Stead, and about her grat.i.tude at the way he had saved them from starvation before, and the way they depended on him to do so even now. Some of these things she formed with her lips, trying out how she would say them when he was sitting before her. But when he was sitting before her, scooping up his sourmilk with a piece of dried sealmeat, she said none of these things, for these things could not be said to this Olaf, who tied a band of wadmal around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and whose shoulders hunched over his trencher as if to protect it from polar bears. Soon enough, telling her he would be manuring the homefield for the rest of the day, he pushed himself to his feet and went out, carrying a skin bag full of cheese and dried reindeer meat.

Margret ran to her chest and drew forth the pieces of silk. It seemed the only virtue now to sew them together as quickly as possible. She took fine st.i.tches with Skuli's finest needle, and the thread she had spun pulled through the silk as if it were water. Birgitta and Gunnar arose late, laughing, and she had sewn a long seam.

One day not long after this, she went into the mountains wearing her cloak, although the sun was warm on the scree of the mountain sides, and then she lingered here and there in some of the clefts where Skuli had a habit of meeting her. Now she saw him at the bottom of the hill, looking back over his shoulder toward Undir Hofdi church. Then he turned and began again to climb the path. He was wearing simple blue clothing that she had seen many times before, and an ornate band of blue and white tablet weaving around his hair, which hung luxuriantly to his shoulders. He climbed confidently, knowing where to step without looking. From time to time he picked up twigs and threw them down again. No wood in Greenland except driftwood was satisfactory for carving, but Margret smiled that he liked to handle bits of it anyway. Now he looked up, and perhaps caught sight of her, for he seemed to smile and quicken his pace. Margret stepped out of sight into a copse of willow brush, removed her cloak, and waited. The red dress was too long, and fell in folds over her shoes, a good fas.h.i.+on for court ladies with nothing to do, of little use in Greenland, but it pleased her, the flow of the red silk and the cool sway of it against her skin.

Now came the crunch of Skuli's foot on the scree, a foot she could see, shod in blue, then another one. He spoke her name. She reached forward and pushed aside some branches of willow brush and his face was so close that it startled her and she snorted. He turned toward her, and at first his face had no expression, and then she saw his jaw drop and his eyes widen into perfect admiration and surprise, such as she had never seen on his or any face before in her life, and at the same time that she knew this as sin and vanity she also fell into the terror of never seeing such a look on his face again.

On this afternoon, the two stayed together much longer than usual, walking back and forth along the side of the hill and talking of many things. Skuli told Margret of two or three men of the court, who had fallen deeply in love with ladies who were married to other men, and one of these men was the brother of the king of Sweden. By subterfuge, the knight and his lady saw one another two or three times during the year, and the rest of the time the lady stayed with her husband and children and the knight governed his estates, and it was said by all that the good sense with which he did all of his works was the direct result of the love that he felt for the lady, and the way in which that love showed him the proper love of G.o.d, so that he was never cruel toward his tenants, and was always hospitable and openhanded to strangers and visitors. And she, too, was without anger or pride or envy or sloth, and was considered an excellent wife and loving mother, and this love between the two lasted many years, until the lady's children were grown and her hair was gray. But when, at last, the Great Death came upon the world, and the lady was lying ill and ready to repent of all her sins, the only sin she could not repent freely of was her love for the king's brother, and so she held this in her heart, and died unshriven of that sin, and her maids feared for her soul, until not long after her death, when her corpus lay on its bier and the maids were was.h.i.+ng it, there arose from it a great fragrance, as of the purest flowers in spring, so that it filled the lady's steading with a pleasing odor, and this fragrance continued in the lady's chamber for many years after she was buried, and was seen as a sign of her virtue. And no one who was about her during her last days died of the contagion, for the fragrance served to repel bad airs from the steading.

There was another story, said Skuli, of a poor man who went on a crusade against the Turks, and he, too, was much in love with the wife of a fellow knight, who stayed home. And this man was made very bold in his crusade, so that he slew great numbers of the infidel, and was rewarded with many lands back in Denmark, where his concubine lived, but his love for the lady moved him to give away these prizes to the Church, and keep for himself only his horse and a sufficiency of plunder so that he could provide for his manservant and himself. It so happened that after twenty years of fighting, he was grievously wounded and near to death when his servant carried him from the field, but he grieved more over the knowledge that he had nothing to send back to his lady as a reminder of himself and a keepsake except a fragment of a green banner that he had won in the day's battle. This the servant vowed to take to the lady, and he did so, traveling for five more years. But when he had made his return, he discovered that the lady was dead, and when he found her tomb near the church, he saw that she had died on the selfsame day as the knight had died, and that hanging from her tomb was an unfaded sleeve of the same color of green as the banner, and the fragment of the banner fit into the sleeve as if they had been cut from the same cloth. Margret could not hear enough of such stories, and when Skuli came to the end of the ones he knew, she begged him to repeat them, which he gladly did. When she returned to Gunnars Stead, the evening meal was finished, and all the Gunnars Stead folk were asleep. Margret was not a little pleased with this great piece of luck.

Now Skuli persuaded Kollbein Sigurdsson to allow him to lodge at Undir Hofdi church, in order to help the old priest, Nikolaus, with the summer work. Kollbein was not a little reluctant to do this, since he had great plans of his own for Skuli's time, but Skuli pointed out to him that Nikolaus' steading was within easy visiting distance of all the farms in Vatna Hverfi, and it would be convenient from there to judge the wealth of the district. Kollbein declared that indeed this was so, and allowed Skuli's departure. Even so, Skuli put off the move for a few days, and seemed to himself almost afraid, and yet he found the thought of Margret Asgeirsdottir irresistibly alluring, as if she had changed into a person he had never seen before. In the red dress, she seemed to burst forth like a phoenix, burning up everything around her, more beautiful than any court lady he had ever seen, and yet not proud at all, as frightened by him as he was by her. The stories he told her came out of him w.i.l.l.y-nilly, ones he knew fairly well and ones he barely remembered hearing, and they gave him a feeling of intoxication that he had never had in Greenland before, for the lack of beer and ale. If she showed the least mote of doubt, he felt himself swell with the knowledge that everything he said was perfect truth. But then it seemed to him after a while that she never showed any doubt at all.

In this same spring, Pall Hallvardsson the Priest and Jon the Priest had a disagreement about some of the revenues of Hvalsey church, where Pall Hallvardsson was now living and preaching. With the great snows of the past two winters, the church and especially the priest's house had fallen into disrepair, so that rain and wind came in upon the paris.h.i.+oners as they knelt at their prayers, and in addition, three of the six rooms of Pall Hallvardsson's house were unusable most of the time. Gunnar Asgeirsson agreed to supply three beams of wood and some men in Hvalsey Fjord agreed to work at repairing the church and at least one room of the priest's house, if these services could be applied against the t.i.the and the Peter's pence that were owed to Gardar. But Jon declared that the bishop could not afford to forgo these revenues, for Gardar itself was in poorer straits than it had been before the sickness. Jon said that the most important endeavor was to rebuild Gardar to the same degree of richness and splendor as two years before, for the greater glory of G.o.d, and that temporary repairs of Hvalsey church would do until the following year. The men of Hvalsey Fjord were greatly angered by this, for they said that it showed in what little esteem they and their families were held by the men at Gardar, and in addition to this, it showed how little Jon, and perhaps others, had learned about Greenland since coming, for it took no time at all for a Greenland building, once the wind and windborne sand got in, to be utterly laid waste, and at least those at Gardar had four solid walls about them when they wors.h.i.+ped.

One day Pall Hallvardsson got on his horse and rode to Gardar, and met with Jon, for although he was accustomed to bowing to the other man, he was also much disturbed at the complaints of his paris.h.i.+oners. Now when Pall Hallvardsson was announced, Jon retired to his cell and put on a red monsignor's gown and the ring and the other paraphernalia of his rank, so that Pall Hallvardsson would know that it was permissible for him to seek redress, but that the power for giving or withholding lay with Jon, especially now, when the bishop was weak and ill. When the servant showed Pall Hallvardsson to Jon's working chamber, Jon was sitting very upright in his seat. Pall Hallvardsson went to him and kissed his ring, and asked politely after his health and that of the bishop.

Jon looked down upon him. ”The bishop finds it difficult to throw off his illness of the spring, and keeps mostly to his bed and is often dozing. It is in our power these days to make all but the most important decisions.” He closed his eyes once, in exasperation. ”We have not seen fit to disturb his peace with the unreasonable demands of the Hvalsey Fjord farmers.”

”A day's row from Hvalsey church is a long row, and once inside the solid walls of Gardar, a man might find it difficult to see how a church could be in such disrepair as to drench the wors.h.i.+pers in a sudden shower or to render them windblown and uncomfortable in a stiff onsh.o.r.e breeze. Gardar is low and warm and damp, but St. Birgitta's is higher and more exposed, and closer to the open sea.”