Part 23 (1/2)

Now as she was speculating about what she might do, she heard a distinct swish and thump, so distinct that she could not dismiss it, but indeed, she little knew where it might be coming from, for it did not seem to be inside the steading. She lay silently. Now Johanna turned over in her bedcloset and hit her knee or her elbow on the side, and it seemed to Helga that the other might have been just such a sleeper's sound as this, except that Johanna was just there, across the room and to the left, and this other sound had no such particularity. She listened again to the silence, and considered the five women and two little girls in the steading, and after a few moments of this consideration, she sat up where she was, and rearranged the cloaks about her over Unn, so that she was more thoroughly hidden among them. Then she crept out of the bedcloset and began to feel her way toward Oddny's bedcloset, where Gunnhild slept, intending to do the same thing there, but just then there were a great many sounds-thumps and brus.h.i.+ngs, and she understood at once that they were coming from the roof of the steading, that someone was trying to get into the steading through the turves above them. Now she reached out her hand in the dark, and put it on the railing of Johanna's bedcloset, and then upon her sister's shoulder, which she shook, and then upon her mouth, so that she prevented the other woman from crying out as she woke. Now she turned and leaned into the bedcloset and said in a whisper, ”Now we are hard put, for some bear or other beast is trying to get into this nest of women, and indeed, we have no weapons, for everything has been taken on the hunt, and I know not what to do.”

Now Johanna sat up, and her face was pale in the gloom, and she listened to the sounds raining down with little bits of earth from the turves above them. She said, ”That's what demons do in old tales, they ride the roof beam until the steading shakes under their weight.”

”Well, the steading isn't shaking yet, and old tales aren't going to make us know what to do in this instance.”

Johanna turned and put her feet over the side of the bedcloset and said, ”It seems to me that we should arouse everyone and herd them into one of the other chambers.”

”But this steading isn't like Gunnars Stead. There is only the one doorway here. The other rooms are blind, for warmth.”

”May we not get into the cowbyre from inside the steading?”

”Vigdis closed off that pa.s.sageway, for the smell, and the mess of the servants going back and forth.”

”But we may open it again, if we have to. A hole to crawl through at the least.” Now the noises came more loudly, and Helga looked up, afraid. Johanna stood up and began going about the bedclosets, rousing the servingwomen. Oddny got up with Gunnhild in her arms, and Helga heard Unn stir among the bedclothes with a m.u.f.fled cry, and it seemed to her, in her growing panic, that the child must suffocate, and so she s.n.a.t.c.hed her out of the bedcloset, and held her tightly in her arms. Now she could not remember what Johanna and she had thought of trying to do, and she stared at her younger sister for a long moment, and Johanna stared back at her, but then said, ”From what chamber does the pa.s.sage to the cowbyre go off?” And Helga gathered her wits, and put her arm around Oddny, and said, ”This one, here-” but just then she was interrupted by the fall of a man's figure through the roof and onto the table. The table broke, and the man landed standing up. She saw in the moonlight that came in through the hole in the roof that the fellow was Ofeig Thorkelsson.

He was not so fat as he once had been, and in fact, his flesh was eked out over his long frame like the flesh of a cow at the end of winter. Bits of clothing hung about him, in no order, tied and wrapped with other bits to keep in some warmth. His hood was torn and mended with little skill, and he stood stoop-shouldered. His beard hung in thin locks to the middle of his chest. He was grinning, and he carried, for weapons, an ax and a small knife. Helga saw that his eyes, accustomed to the bright moonlight outside, could not yet make out who was about him, and she stepped back into the dark, and set Unn back into the bedcloset. But there was only that moment. The next moment, he grabbed Johanna's arm and twisted it behind her, and there was the distinct, low sound of a crack. Johanna gave a gasp of surprise, and stood as still as a rock. ”Now, my girl,” said Ofeig, ”it would not ill please me to break it again, or, indeed, to break the other one, but I am a hungry fellow, and I long for some of the good, soft Ketils Stead cheese that I used to fill my belly with many years ago. So I will stand here with you, and the others will find me what they can.”

Helga stepped forward, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oddny and Gunnhild disappear into Johanna's bedcloset. She did not know if Ofeig saw this, and so she said, ”Ofeig, it is but the beginning of the summer, and such cheeses as we have are old and hard, but I will make up a trencher for you.”

”You may fill it as you please, as long as it is plentiful and good. I don't want any garbage, like gnawed bones or offal, and if you give me any, I will jam it down this little one's throat here, for indeed, she has wandered into my power now, and everything that displeases me will cause her dissatisfaction.” He jerked on Johanna's arm, and she gasped again, but did not cry out. Now Ofeig twisted her around so that he could see her. ”Are you a servingmaid, or what? Tell me your name.”

”Johanna Gunnarsdottir.” Her voice was firm and cool, though Helga's had trembled when she spoke. Helga picked a trencher up off the floor, where the collapse of the table had thrown it, and began to go about, looking for what food there was to be had. Johanna said, ”My Helga, there is wholesome dried sealmeat in that chest there,” as if they were speaking of their evening meat. Helga lifted the lid of the chest with shaking fingers, and scooped almost all of the meat into the trencher. Then she cut some pieces of cheese, and held the trencher out to Ofeig, who said, ”Stand here, and hold it while I eat. Now that I have caught this little one, I don't intend to let her go.” And he jerked her arm again. And Johanna said, ”If you are Ofeig Thorkelsson, then folk say that you are the devil himself, and it must be the case that prayer is our only hope.” And she began to pray in a firm voice, ”Hail Mary, Mother of G.o.d.” He jerked her arm again, harder, and said, ”I like this praying little,” but Johanna continued, ”Blessed art thou among women-” until Helga herself put her hand over Johanna's mouth and stopped her. Ofeig said, ”The Devil is a powerful fellow, I have heard, and he doesn't go from steading to steading, as I do, being satisfied with a bit of this and a bit of that. I will tell you this, that the Greenlanders are a n.i.g.g.ardly lot, and I hate them as much as the Devil does. Indeed, it is a poor part of the earth that we live in, bitter cold and waste, and the wind bites the flesh like a dog. Give me some more of that.” And Helga took the trencher and began looking about for other things to serve him. Johanna said, as coolly as before, ”There is sourmilk in the near storeroom, a big vat of it, and some pickled blubber and some svid, as well.” He gave her arm another jerk, and this time, expecting it, she made no sound at all. He went on, ”And I'll tell you another thing, I hate these Gunnars Stead folk. I hear they burned up the one, the staring one who used to follow us about. That rejoiced me, indeed. But you must be his sister. I see somewhat of the same stare about you, now that I've had something to eat and can look about me. Why don't you light a lamp here? I'd like to see what's about the place. Indeed, I hate this steading. I hate every place I've ever been in this G.o.dforsaken land, and that's a fact.”

Helga said, ”I haven't a flint. On these long days, we don't light the lamps.” She fingered the flint in her pocket, and prayed that Unn would make no sound behind her. It seemed to her that the darkness was her only salvation, and also that she must give up her sister to preserve her daughters, and her heart sank within her so that she could hardly keep on her feet. Johanna seemed to be two people to her-this doomed, pale creature, standing stock-still in the streaming moonlight, and also that sunlit figure of the smooth countenance and firm tread whom she had watched go in and out of the steading all morning long. And it was the case that she repented with all her heart of the annoyance she had felt during the winter and the spring, and she saw that whatever Johanna lacked of softness, she had in extra measure of goodness and grace. Now Johanna said, in her clear, firm voice, ”Have you finished eating, Ofeig Thorkelsson? For indeed, I remember something else that might please you, and that is dried capelin with some bits of sour b.u.t.ter.”

”Now I see that this little one really does wish to please me. It seems to me that I have such a hunger that I could eat you out of this steading, and it has been no little time since I have had such a treat.”

And Johanna said to Helga, ”In the back of the near storeroom. You can feel with your hands where the b.u.t.ter and the dried sealmeat are. And there are other things, too. Some dried reindeer meat, and some mutton, and a round of cheese.” And Helga went out, trembling, and felt about the storeroom in the dark with clumsy fingers, and returned with what she had found, and then she stood again beside Ofeig, and held the trencher while he ate from it. Now he sat down upon the bench, with Johanna on his lap, with her arm still twisted behind her, and he let out two mighty belches, and then he began to lay his hand upon Johanna's belly and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and Helga saw her sister close her eyes, and move her lips in prayer. Helga said, ”You have eaten much savory food, Ofeig Thorkelsson. Are you not dry, as well?”

”Give me the day's milking, for I am dry enough, now that you mention it.”

Now Helga opened the door of the steading, and reached for a vat of ewe's milk from the evening milking, for it was the case that everyone had been so weary from the day's tasks that the vats had not been carried to the dairy, and she brought it into the steading and dipped up two cups full for Ofeig. He took his hand off Johanna's breast and drank them down, and then two more, and then he let out another belch and put his hand on his belly. And it seemed to Helga that he had eaten a prodigious amount, more than any three men. And now there was a whimper from Unn, a whimper followed by a cry, and Helga stepped back suddenly, and put her hand into the bedcloset. Ofeig began to stand up, Johanna still with him, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then he suddenly clutched for his belly with both hands, and doubled over on the bench. He let out a groan, and now he began to vomit all of the food he had gorged himself upon, and it spewed out everywhere, all over Johanna, and the broken table, and the floor, and a little bit on the hem of Helga's robe, and Johanna, her arm free, jumped away and grabbed the ax and the knife he had laid down for the tasks of eating and fondling her. And she said, ”Ofeig Thorkelsson, you are the Devil indeed, and it is manifest in your hatred and your gluttony, and now you are cast down, through the grace of the Lord and the intercession of our prayers.”

And now Ofeig began rolling about in the agony of a big feeding after a long fast, which every Greenlander is wary of, and the servingwomen came forth out of the bedclosets, where they had been hiding, and they began to beat upon Ofeig with trenchers and other utensils, about the head and the shoulders. Johanna even lifted the ax, but indeed, he had more strength than they thought, for suddenly he scrabbled to his feet and threw himself out the door, and the last they saw of him, he was running off in the moonlight.

Through the broken-down roof, Helga saw that the sky was lightening toward dawn. She sat down upon the bench, and looked at the others gathered about her. Gunnhild sat upon Oddny's lap, and Unn sat upon Thordis' lap, and Johanna sat with a smile on her face, and with her arm limp at her side, and Helga said, ”Your arm must hurt you more than a little, for I fear that this demon has broken it.”

”We will walk over to Gunnars Stead after our morning meat, and Margret Asgeirsdottir will set it for me.” And that was all she had to say on the subject. And Ofeig was not seen again in that district, although Helga looked for him each night until the return of Jon Andres and the other men. But Johanna did not, and went to bed in faith and trust every evening.

Now it happened that the end of the seventh day came round, and Jon Andres failed to return, and the end of the eighth day as well, and Gunnar Asgeirsson, too, stayed away, although all of the servingfolk came back to Gunnars Stead, and the result of this was that on the ninth day, when Jon Andres did return, much dirtied and fatigued by the hunt, the tale that Helga had hoped to make of her adventure with Ofeig was stopped in her mouth, and the wish that she had had, to speak of this, and then speak of other things, that were nearer to her heart, was unfulfilled, and the silence between herself and her husband continued unabated. Jon Andres heard the story from Oddny and probed Johanna about it. He was much disturbed by it, but Helga did not mention it, though he gave her the chance more than once. Then he vowed not to speak of it to Helga if she had no care to mention it to him, and so things went on between them for the rest of the summer, and Margret's proscription was fulfilled, and Helga had nothing to do with her husband that might endanger her life. In the summer, Johanna moved back to Gunnars Stead, and Helga was much cast down to see her go, and she considered Johanna a great friend of hers, although the two women never spoke of this.

At Gunnars Stead, Johanna found things to be much the same as they had been for many years; that was, it seemed to her now, very elderly. At Ketils Stead, she had conceived an affection for Gunnhild and Unn that she had not felt before. It seemed to her that children must wear into one, that a bit of fellows.h.i.+p with them was more than enough, but constant fellows.h.i.+p with them was less than enough. She was some twenty-four winters in age, not so much past the time of marrying for a Gunnars Stead maiden, and it occurred to her that her father might take her to the Thing this year, or might go himself, and seek about for a husband for her, but when she thought of this, it was not just any husband or any establishment that she felt this bit of longing for, but what was to be found at Ketils Stead, and so she held her peace. Gunnar and Margret were pleasant to her, and her footsteps about the place, and her pauses to look upon their work, one at her loom and the other at his parchment, were refres.h.i.+ng to them and long missed. Gunnar saw that she was his favorite child, as untroubling to him and as pure as water from tarns high in the mountains, and it also seemed to him, since her defeat of Ofeig, that she must outlive him, for which he felt simple grat.i.tude.

At the spring seal hunt, Gunnar and Jon Andres had listened to many men, to many complaints of the absence of Kollgrim Gunnarsson, that issued from the mouths of men who themselves had tossed some wooden trinket upon the pyre that burned him. Gunnar and Jon Andres had nodded, had recalled, once in a while, how Kollgrim once killed forty-two seals in an afternoon, how he rowed his boat as quickly and as agilely as a skraeling, how he had preserved the life of Hrafnkel Snaefelsson when his boat was lost, so that he barely got his legs wet. Indeed, they had an ally in Hrafnkel himself, who was something of a blowhard, and always ready to tell the tale of his near drowning, and how he had felt himself all at once lost and saved, with Kollgrim's arm, ”like a roof beam, that big and hard, about my arms and chest.” The Icelanders, when they were about, cast a silence over the Greenlanders, a silence in which the cheerful tones of Bjorn Bollason and his sons rang like bells. The seal hunt had not been so prosperous as some, not so meager as some. No boats had been lost and no man killed. After it, the Thing came on, and then the rest of the summer, and folk went about their work as they had always done, in Greenland, and it seemed they would always do.

One day shortly after the next Yule, Snorri Torfason got out of the bedcloset where he had established himself for most of the previous four years, and he said that he would like to see his farms in Iceland, and after he said this he was as a demon of energy. That very day, he took some of his men and went on skis to Gardar, where their s.h.i.+p was drawn up on rollers, and pulled off such coverings as were over it and surveyed what damage there was to be repaired. There were a few staved-in boards, and some rot along the keel, and the steppings for the mast were split. These difficulties, which had seemed too tedious to rectify when Snorri didn't really want to return to Iceland, now seemed inconsequential. Snorri went straight to Sira Eindridi and began quizzing him that evening about such resources as were available for the repair of the s.h.i.+p. After that, the Icelanders went around on skis, trading for such wood as they needed, and seal oil, which is not so good as pitch for spreading over the outside of the s.h.i.+p, but must do where there is no pitch to be had. The short case of it was that as soon as the ice broke up and blew out of Einars Fjord after the feast of St. Erik, the Icelanders, with Sigrid Bjornsdottir and Bolli Bjornsson, were gone. And one day after this departure, Gunnar Asgeirsson and Jon Andres Erlendsson went about Vatna Hverfi district and Hvalsey Fjord and called witnesses to hear that they were pressing a case at the Thing, against Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker, for the untimely death of Kollgrim Gunnarsson. And most Greenlanders who were the least bit knowledgeable of the law said that they had never heard of such a case being made against the lawspeaker himself, but indeed, folk may press any case that they wish, if they can make the judges hear it.

Bjorn Bollason did not quite know what to do about this. He went to his friends in Brattahlid district, and talked to them about it, and to Sira Eindridi, but all said that he was the lawspeaker, and therefore had the laws at the tip of his tongue, and so he must make up his own defense, which, indeed, did not seem as if it would be so hard to do. And Gunnar Asgeirsson had never won a case at the Thing in his life, and Jon Andres Erlendsson was not a litigious man, having only had to defend himself once, and never having pressed a case. But still the lawspeaker was flurried and dismayed, for the Icelanders were gone, and he saw that those friends among the Greenlanders that he had once had were somewhat more remote than he remembered them being, and he regretted that he had not cultivated his status more industriously in late years. After going to Brattahlid district, he went to Dyrnes and spoke to folk there, but Hoskuld, his foster father, had died in the previous year, and Hoskuld's own sons, who were powerful men as folk in Dyrnes go, were also a bit reserved, with, they said, difficulties of their own. Bjorn Bollason saw that, indeed, they were in some sense his enemies, because while they would not lift a hand against him, for the sake of long acquaintance, they would also not lift a hand for him, for Hoskuld had lifted his hand to help Bjorn Bollason perhaps too many times in the past, at the expense of his own sons. A man need only to sit across from them at evening meat, and watch the way they glanced out the door or across the room whenever Bjorn Bollason looked them in the face, to know this. And so he came back to Solar Fell, which was after all not really in any special district, but set off by itself, somewhat cast down.

Now the Thing came on, and it was thickly attended, for everyone in all the nearest districts wanted to see how these men acquitted themselves. All thought well of Gunnar Asgeirsson, but considered that he had always had ill enough luck. Bjorn Bollason was spoken of as the lesser man with the greater luck, and it was said that such distinctions between the two might never have been made if this case had not come up, for it is in these conflicts that the worth of men is measured by their neighbors. And that is why the Greenlanders always chatter of the concerns of others, for it is in the nature of folk to ask of themselves as well as of the Lord, how is each man to be judged? And when there are few enough men and women about, as there are in Greenland, then each one is seen more often, but the wealth of opinion is so diverse that no man is seen whole, or, indeed, seen as he wishes to be.

Jon Andres Erlendsson set up his booth, which was a rich one, in the very center of the Thing field, and about his booth, in a great wheel, were some twelve other booths, larger and smaller, from Vatna Hverfi district and Hvalsey Fjord district. Booths from the other districts were scattered about these, so that men had to walk through these in order to get to the others. The flaps of these twelve booths were always open, and men and boys, some of whom hadn't been to many Things before, or any, were always milling about them. And if they hadn't many provisions, then Jon Andres had food for them, as Bjorn Bollason had always fed everyone who came by in the early days, when he was just become lawspeaker. Gunnar Asgeirsson set up his booth in his usual spot, a little ways above the Thing field, and he had nothing to say at all.

Now Bjorn Bollason began, on the first morning of the Thing, to say out the laws, and this lasted almost until the end of the day, with some repet.i.tions and muddlings, but indeed, few enough of the older folk knew to correct even one or two of these. There were six cases to be decided, with the case against Bjorn Bollason, and these were as follows: A man in Herjolfsnes claimed driftage rights over some wood that came to his strand, and then drifted off in the night and came to his neighbor's strand, and he had beaten a servant of his neighbor's when the servant had begun to carry off the wood, so that the servant had lost use of his arm and shoulder, and was therefore of less value to his master. Two fishermen, who were brothers, had built a boat together, and then fallen out, so that each claimed the boat. A man from Dyrnes had set to beating his wife, but had ended up killing her instead of chastising her. Two boys from the southern part of Vatna Hverfi district had gone about stealing from various storehouses, so that they ama.s.sed some thirty-six whole rounds of cheese, and instead of eating it, they had broken it up and left it to rot in Antler Lake. A man and his wife from Brattahlid laid claim to a farm abandoned by their brother, although the brother himself had made a present of the farm to his concubine. Such were the cases that occupied the Thing in this year, and as usual, many complained that most of these disputes might have been settled in the households, or the districts. In this way the Greenlanders were accustomed to complain of their long journeys and the trouble they had in setting up their booths.

On the afternoon of the second day of the Thing, it came to Jon Andres to make the case against Bjorn Bollason, and he strode into the circle among the judges, where cases were made, and his many followers pressed around, Gunnar among them. And it was the case that in the years since Jon Andres had defended himself against Gunnar Asgeirsson, he had lost none of his eloquence or grace, but only gained a certain confidence of manner, such as men have that boys don't have, and so now, as then, all eyes were riveted upon him. His smile flashed, and then his face grew as sober as could be, and he spoke as follows: ”What man among us does not have a brother or a son or a cousin who acts as he pleases, whether folk agree with his ways or not? Indeed, what man himself acts as he knows he should every moment of his life? What man is not led by desire or fear into stumbling? If he is starving, does he not bend down to pick some berries that are growing in the pathway, though the pathway may be through his neighbor's field? And when the priest comes to his district church, the man confesses his sin, and the priest gives him penance, and he is forgiven for this sin. If he says that he stretched his hand out for the berries, then other men may understand his action, for, indeed, every man himself has done such a thing in his time, and so, through our own sin, we come to understand the sinner. For does not the Lord Himself say that you must love the sinner, though you hate the sin?

”Now all men know that there are other sins that are not so trivial as eating a few berries. Stealing another man's lamb is one of these sins, or stealing the affections of his wife, and such sins must also be confessed, and the penance is greater, but there is forgiveness for these sins as well, is there not? For if there were not, we would surely all be condemned to h.e.l.l, and have no hope of salvation, and who among us here can say that he has no hope of salvation? The Greenlanders are great fighting men, are they not? And it sometimes happens in a fight that a man is killed, and those who have killed him must recognize their sin, and do penance, but indeed, are they barred from all hope of salvation for their deed? Well,” said Jon Andres, ”it is the case that no one knows the answer to this question, who is barred from Heaven and who is not, for Christ has not come among us to separate the sheep from the goats, has He?” And he spoke all of these things in a quiet, even tone that men strained to hear. Everything that he said seemed just and true.

Now, he said, ”I too had a brother whose ways were not mine. Once upon a time, I acted toward this man as if he were my enemy, and I caused him great injury, and those folk who knew him before and after the injury say that he was never again quite himself, but was subject to confusion of mind, and forever after this injury, and as I came to know this man as my brother, I was heartily sorry and remorseful for this injury that I had done him, the more that I saw that he did not really forgive me in his heart, although he acted as a brother to me in all things. And so it happened that I came to love him who had once been my enemy, and my heart went out to him in his confusion of mind, for I saw that life was too much for him, and that many times he knew not how to direct his steps in the best possible fas.h.i.+on. The habit of wayward willfulness was so strong in him that he always took counsel in a contrary fas.h.i.+on. Even so, he was a strong and useful fellow, with talents of a certain nature such as no other man among the Greenlanders can claim, and this man was Kollgrim Gunnarsson of Gunnars Stead in Vatna Hverfi district. But who among us does not have a brother or a cousin or a son who seems as though he cannot be helped to do right, but must always find his own way through the thickest undergrowth, although the clear path be near by? Who among us does not sometimes grow angry and sometimes grow bitter and sometimes grow melancholy at the ways of such folk?

”Now it happened that my brother stumbled, and came to desire a woman that was wedded to an Icelander, but who was living by herself for a time. It may be said about this woman that she, too, was of an unusual and melancholy temperament, for when others were laughing, she might only smile, and when others were smiling, she might look down at her hands in her lap, and when others were listening, she might be dumb with her own thoughts. Was it so unusual that these two melancholy folk, who set themselves apart from others, should meet on some common footing that is not readily apparent to the rest of men? For it is also the case that the ways in which a man and a woman come together are multifarious and even laughable to the rest of folk.

”At any rate, they did not come together for very long, for they were discovered in right good time by the husband and his friends, and they were parted then, with some grief on both sides. Perhaps it may be said that they were parted with no little grief, for the case was that they were of the grieving sort. And it happened that the husband brought an action against my brother Kollgrim for this adultery, and all the Greenlanders laughed privily at this, for if every man were brought to the Thing for adultery, then indeed we would be here for a fortnight every summer.