Grettir the Outlaw: A Story of Iceland
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Title: Grettir the Outlaw: A Story of Iceland
Creator: S. Baring-Gould
Illustrator: M. Zeno Diemer
Release date: March 31, 2015 [eBook #48622]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48622
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRETTIR THE OUTLAW: A STORY OF ICELAND ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Illustration: THORKELL AND THE OUTLAWED GRETTIR LEAVE THE ASSIZE.]
*Grettir the Outlaw*
*A Story of Iceland*
by
S. BARING-GOULD
Author of "John Herring" "Mehalah" "Iceland: its Scenes and Sagas" &c.
_WITH SIX PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ZENO DIEMER_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
1889
*PREFACE.*
TO MY YOUNG READERS.
It is now just thirty years since I first began to read the "Saga of
Grettir the Strong" in Icelandic. At that time I had only a Danish
grammar of Icelandic and an Icelandic-Danish dictionary, and I did not
know a word of Danish. So I had to learn Danish in order to learn
Icelandic.
It was laborious work making out the Saga, and every line when I began
took me some time to understand. Moreover, I had not much time at my
disposal, for then I was a master in a school.
Now, after I had worked a little way into the Saga, I became intensely
interested in it myself, and it struck me that my boys whom I taught
might like to hear about Grettir. So I tried every day to translate,
after school hours, a chapter, hardly ever more at first, and sometimes
not even as much as that. Then, when on half-holidays I proposed a walk
to some of my scholars, they were keen to hear the story of Grettir.
Well, Grettir went on for some months in this way, a fresh instalment of
the tale coming every half-holiday, and it was really wonderful how
interested and delighted the boys were with the story. Nor was I less
so; the labour of translation which was so great at first became rapidly
lighter, and I was as much interested in the adventures of the hero as
were the boys. The other day I met an old pupil of mine, and almost the
first thing he said to me was: "Oh! do you remember Grettir? Thirty
years ago! Fancy! I am a married man and have boys of my own, and I
have often tried to tell them the story which made such an impression on
me, but I cannot remember all the incidents nor their order. I do wish
you would write it as a story for boys. I should like to read it myself
again, and my boys would love it." "Very well," I said, "I will do so."
Now my boy readers must understand that I have told them the story in my
own words and in my own way. I went to Iceland in 1861, and went over
nearly every bit of the ground made famous by the adventures of Grettir.
Consequently, I am able to help out and illustrate the tale by what I
actually saw. In the original book there is a great deal more than I
have attempted to retell, but much has to do with the ancestors of
Grettir, and there are other incidents introduced of no great importance
and very confusing to the memory. So I have taken the leading points in
the story, and given them.
S. BARING-GOULD.
*CONTENTS.*
CHAP.
I. Winter Tales
II. How Grettir played on the Ice
III. Of the Ride to Thingvalla
IV. The Doom-day
V. The Voyage
VI. The Red Rovers
VII. The Story of the Sword
VIII. Of the Bear
IX. The Slaying of Biorn
X. Of Grettir's Return
XI. The Horse-fight
XII. Of the Fight at the Neck
XIII. How Grettir and Audun made Friends
XIV. The Vale of Shadows
XV. How Grettir fought with Glam
XVI. How Grettir Sailed to Norway
XVII. The Hostel-burning
XVIII. The Ordeal by Fire
XIX. The Winter in Norway
XX. Of what Befell at Biarg
XXI. The Return of Grettir
XXII. The Slaying of Oxmain
XXIII. At Learwood
XXIV. The Foster-brothers
XXV. How Grettir was well nigh Hung
XXVI. In the Desert
XXVII. On the Great Eagle Lake
XXVIII. On the Fell
XXIX. The Fight on the River
XXX. A Mysterious Vale
XXXI. The Death of Hallmund
XXXII. Of Another Attempt against Grettir
XXXIII. At Sandheaps
XXXIV. How Grettir was Driven About
XXXV. On the Isle
XXXVI. Of Grettir on Heron-ness
XXXVII. Of Hoering's Leap
XXXVIII. Of the Attempt made by Grettir's Friends
XXXIX. Of the Old Hag
XL. How the Log came to Drangey
XLI. The End of the Outlaw
XLII. How Asdis received the News
XLIII. How Dromund kept his Word
Epilogue
*ILLUSTRATIONS.*
Thorkell and the outlawed Grettir leave the Assize, _Frontis_.
Grettir challenges Kormak and his Party
Grettir defends Himself from the Mob
Grettir attacked in the Rift by Thorir's Party
Fording the quivering flood
Illugi defends the dying Grettir
[Illustration: PEDIGREE OF THE FAMILY OF ASMUND OF BIARG]
*GRETTIR THE OUTLAW.*
*CHAPTER I.*
*WINTER TALES.*
_The Birthplace of Grettir--The Peopling of Iceland--A History
of Quarrels--Stories Round the Hearth--Biarg--The Great Blue
Bay--The Boy Grettir--The Saga of Onund Treefoot--The Northern
Pirates--The Fight with King Harald--Onund's Wound--After the
Battle_
It was night--drawing on to midnight--in summer, that I who write this
book arrived at the little lonely farm of Biarg, on the Middle River, in
the north of Iceland. It was night, near on midnight, and yet I could
hardly call it night, for the sky overhead was full of light of the
clearest amethyst, and every stock and stone was distinctly visible.
Across the valley rose a rugged moor, and above its shoulder a snow-clad
mountain, turned to rosy gold by the night sun. As I stood there
watching the mist form on the cold river in the vale below, all at once
I heard a strange sound like horns blowing far away in the sky, and
looking up, I saw a train of swans flying from west to east, bathed in
sunlight, their wings of silver, and their feathers as gold.
I had come all the way from England to see Biarg, for there was born,
about the year A.D. 997, a man called Grettir, whose history I had read,
and which interested me so much that I was resolved to see his native
home, and the principal scenes where his stormy life was passed.
The landscape was the same as that on which Grettir's childish eyes had
looked more than eight hundred and fifty years ago. The same outline of
dreary moor, the same snowy ridge of mountain standing above it,
catching the midnight summer sun, the same mist forming over the river;
but the house was altogether different. Now there stood only a poor
heap of farm-buildings, erected of turf and wood, where had once been a
noble hall of wood, with carved gable-ends, surrounded by many
out-houses.
Before we begin on the story of Grettir, it will be well to say a few
words about its claim to be history.
Iceland never was, and it is not now, a much-peopled island. The
farmhouses are for the most part far apart, and the farms are of very
considerable extent, because, owing to the severity of the climate, very
little pasturage is obtained over a wide extent of country for the sheep
and cattle. The population lives round the coast, on the fiords or
creeks of the sea, or on the rivers that flow into these fiords. The
centre of the island is occupied by a vast waste of ice-covered
mountain, and desert black as ink strewn with volcanic ash and sand, or
else with a region of erupted lava that is impassable, because in
cooling it has exploded, and forms a country of bristling spikes and
gulfs and sharp edges, very much like the wreck of a huge ginger-beer
bottle factory.
What are now farmhouses were the halls and mansions of families of noble
descent. Indeed, the original settlers in Iceland were the nobles of
Norway who left their native land to avoid the tyranny of Harold
Fairhair, who tried to crush their power so as to make himself a
despotic king in the land.
These Norse nobles came in their boats to Iceland, bringing with them
their wives, children, their thralls or slaves, and their cattle; and
they settled all round the coast. The present Icelanders are descended
from these first colonists.
Now, the history of Iceland for a few hundred years consists of nothing
but the history of the quarrels of these great families. Iceland was
without any political organization, but it had an elected lawman or
judge, and every year the heads of the families rode to Thingvalla, a
plain in the south-west, where they brought their complaints, carried on
their lawsuits, and had them settled by the judge. There was no army, no
navy, no government in Iceland for a long time; also no foreign wars,
and no internal revolutions.
These noble families settled in the valleys and upon the fiords thought
a good deal of themselves, and they carefully preserved, at first orally
then in writing, the record of their pedigrees, and also the tradition
of the famous deeds of their great men.
In summer there is no night; in winter, no day. In winter there is
little or nothing to be done but sit over the fire, sing songs, and tell
yarns. Now, in winter the Icelanders told the tales of the brave men of
old in their families, and so the tradition was handed on from father to
son, the same stories told every winter, till all the particulars became
well known. At the same time there can be no doubt that little
embellishments were added, some exaggerations were indulged in, and here
and there the grand deed of some other man was grafted into the story of
the family hero. About two hundred or two hundred and fifty years after
the death of Grettir, his history was committed to writing, and then it
became fixed--nothing further was added to it, and we have his story
after having travelled down over two hundred years as a tradition. That
was plenty of time for additions and emendations, and the hobgoblin and
ghost stories that come into his life are some of these embellishments.
But the main facts of his life are true history. We are able to decide
this by comparing his story with those of other families in the same
part of the island, and to see whether they agree as to dates, and as to
the circumstances narrated in them.
In the north-west of Iceland is an immense bay called the Huna-floi,
which branches off into several creeks, the largest of which is called
the Ramsfirth, and the next to that is the Middlefiord. Into this flows
a river that has its rise in the central desert, in a perfect tangle of
lakes. Three rivers issuing from these lakes unite just above Biarg,
and pour their waters a short morning's ride lower through sands into
the Middlefirth.
The valley is not cheerful, running from north to south. Biarg lies on
the east side, and faces the western sun. The moor which lies behind
it, and forms the hill on the other side of the river, is not broken and
picturesque, and if it were not for the peak of Burfell, covered with
snow a good part of the year, the view from Biarg would be as
uninteresting as any to be found in the land. But then, when one rides
down to the coast, or ascends the moor, what a splendid view bursts on
the sight! The great Polar Sea is before one, intensely blue, not with
the deep ultramarine of the Mediterranean, but with the blue of the
nemophyla or forget-me-not, rolling in from the mysterious North; and
across the mighty bay of the Huna-floi can be seen the snowy mountains
of that extraordinary peninsula which runs out to the north-west of
Iceland, and is only just not converted into an island because connected
with Iceland by a narrow strip of land. That great projection is like a
hand with fiords between the fingers of land, and glacier-mountains
where are the knuckles; but the wrist is very narrow indeed, only about
one English mile across, and there lies a trough along this junction,
with a little stream and a lake in it. Now, at this wrist, as we may
call it, lies the farm of Eyre, where, somewhat later, lived the sister
of Grettir, who married a man that farmed there, named Glum.
Looking away across the great blue bay, the mountains of the hand may be
seen rising out of the sea, and looking like icebergs.
Grettir the Strong was the son of a well-to-do bonder, or yeoman, who
lived at Biarg, and was descended from some of the great nobles of
Norway. His father's name was Asmund with the Grey-head, and his
mother's name was Asdis.
He had a brother called Atli, a gentle, kindly young fellow, who never
wittingly quarrelled with anyone, and was liked by all with whom he had
to do. He had also two sisters--one was called Thordis, and she was
married to Glum of Eyre--but neither come into the story; and he had
another sister called Rannveig, who was married to Gamli of Melar, at
the head of Ramsfirth. He had also a little brother called Illugi, of
whom more hereafter. Grettir was not a good-looking boy; he had reddish
hair, a pale face full of freckles, and light blue eyes. He was
broad-built, not tall as a boy, though in the end he grew to be a very
big man.
He was not considered a good-tempered or sociable boy. He seemed lazy
and sullen; he liked to sit by the fire without speaking to anyone,
listening to what was said, and brooding over what he had heard.
If his father set him a task, he did it so unwillingly, and so badly
that Asmund Greyhead regretted having set him to do anything.
Now, during the winter, as we have already seen, when there is but a
very little daylight, and the nights are vastly long, when, moreover,
the whole land is deep in snow, so that there is no farm-work that can
be done, and no travelling about to visit neighbours, it was, and is
still, usual in Iceland for those in the house to tell tales, or sagas,
as they are called. Some of these sagas relate to the old gods of the
Norsemen, some are fabulous stories of old heroes who never existed, or,
if they did exist, have had all sorts of fantastic legends tacked on to
their histories; but other sagas are the tales of the doings of
ancestors of the family.
Now, among the sagas that Grettir used to hearken to with greatest
delight was that of old Onund Treefoot, his great-grandfather, who first
settled in Iceland. And this was the tale:
Onund, the son of Ufeigh Clubfoot, son of Ivar the Smiter, was a mighty
Viking in Norway; that is, he went about every summer harrying the
coasts of England, Ireland, and Scotland. He joined with three friends,
and they had five ships together, and one summer they sailed to the
Hebrides--which were then called the Sudereys, or southern isles. The
Bishop of the Isle of Man is still called Bishop of Sodor and Man,
because his diocese originally included the Sudereys. Then out against
them came Kiarval, king of the Hebrides, with five ships, and they gave
him battle, and there was a hard fray. But the men of Onund were the
mightiest warriors. On each side many fell, but the end of the battle
was that the king fled with only one ship. So Onund took the four
vessels and great spoil, and he wrought great havoc on the coast,
plundering and burning, and so in the fall of the year returned to
Norway. In the history of England, and in that of Scotland and of
Ireland, we read of the terrible annoyance given to the natives of Great
Britain and Ireland by the northern pirates; and, indeed, they conquered
Dublin, and established a kingdom there, and also took to themselves
Orkney. Well, when Onund returned to Norway he did not find that
matters were pleasant there; for King Harald the Unshorn had begun to
establish himself sole king in Norway. Hitherto there had been many
small kings and earls; but Harald had taken an oath that he would not
cut or trim his hair till he had subdued all under his power, and made
himself supreme throughout the land.
A great many bonders and all the little kings united against him, and
there was a great battle fought at Hafrsfiord--the greatest battle that
had as yet been fought in Norway. Onund was in the battle along with
his friend, King Thorir Longchin, and he set his ship alongside of that
of King Longchin. King Harald ran his ship up alongside of that of
Longchin, grappled it, and boarded it. There was a furious fight, and
Harald sent on board his Bearsarks, a set of half-mad ruffians, who wore
not bear but wolf skins, and who were said to lead charmed lives, so
that no weapon would wound them. Thorir Longchin and all his men were
killed; and then King Harald cut away the ship and ran up against that
of Onund. Onund was in the fore part, and he fought manfully. As the
grappling-irons of Harald caught his ship, Onund made a sweep with his
longsword at the man who threw the irons, and in so doing he put his leg
over the bulwark. Then one on the king's ship threw a spear at Onund.
He saw it flung, and leaned his head back to let it fly over him, and as
he did so one on the king's ship smote at him with a battle-axe, and the
axe fell on his leg below the knee and shore his leg off. Then Onund
fell back on board his own vessel, and his men carried him across into
that of a friend named Thrand, who lay alongside of him on the other
board. And Thrand had a great cauldron there of pitch boiled, and Onund
set his knee in the boiling pitch, and never blinked nor uttered a cry.
That staunched the blood. If he had not done this he would have bled to
death.
Now, Thrand saw that King Harald was gaining the mastery everywhere, so
he fled away with his ship and sailed west.
Onund was healed of his wound, but ever after he walked with a wooden
leg, and that is why he got the name of Onund Treefoot.
After the battle of Hafrsfiord, Onund could only return to Norway by
stealth, and he could not recover his lands there, so he deemed it
wisest for him to sail away and seek a home elsewhere. That is how he
left Norway and settled in Iceland.
And when King Harald saw himself lord and master through all the land,
then he had his hair trimmed and combed, and it was so long and so
beautiful, that ever after he who had been called "The Unshorn" went by
the name of "Fairhair," and in history he is known as King Harald
Fairhair.
*CHAPTER II.*
*HOW GRETTIR PLAYED ON THE ICE.*
_An Evil Boyhood--Golf on the Ice--Grettir Quarrels with
Audun--A Threat of Vengeance_
There are several tales told of Grettir when he was a boy, which show
that he was a rough and unkindly lad. He was set by his father to keep
geese on the moors, and this made him angry, so he threw stones at the
geese and killed or wounded them all.
The old man suffered from lumbago, and in winter when unwell asked his
wife and the boys to rub his back by the fire; but when Grettir was
required to do this, he lost his temper, and on one occasion he snatched
up a wool-carding comb and dug it into his old father's back.
Many other things he did which made those at home not like him, and
there was not much love lost between him and his father. The fact was
that Grettir was a headstrong, wilful fellow, and bitterly had he to pay
in after life for this youthful wilfulness and obstinacy. It was these
qualities, untamed in him, that wrecked his whole life, and it may be
said brought ruin and extinction on his family. There were great and
good qualities in Grettir's nature, but they did not show when he was
young; only much suffering and cruel privations brought out in the end
the higher and nobler elements that were in him.
It is so with all who have any good in them, if by early discipline it
is not manifested, then it is brought out by the rough usage of
misfortune in after life.
And now I will give one incident of Grettir's boyhood. It was a
favourite amusement for young fellows at that time to play golf on the
ice, and in winter, when the Middlefirth was frozen over, large parties
assembled there for the sport.
One winter a party was arranged for a match on the ice, and a good many
lads came to Middlefirth from Willowdale, a valley only separated from
the Middlefirth by a long shoulder of ugly moor. The Willowdales-men
had a much better sheet of water, a very large lake called Hop, into
which their river flowed, before discharging itself into the sea; and
the return match was to be played on Hop.
Among the young fellows who came from Willowdale was Audun, a fine,
strapping fellow; frank, well-built, good-looking, and amiable.
When the parties were assembled at the place, there they were paired off
according to age and strength; and on this occasion I am speaking of,
Grettir, who was fourteen, was set to play with Audun, who was two years
older than he, and a head taller.
Audun struck the ball and it flew over Grettir's head, and he missed it,
and it went skimming away over the ice to a great distance, and Grettir
had to run after it. Some of those who were looking on laughed. Then
Grettir's anger was roused. He got the ball and came back carrying it,
till he was within a few yards of Audun, and then, instead of dropping
the ball, and striking it with his golfing-stick, he suddenly threw it
with all his force against his adversary, and struck him between his
eyes, so that it half-stunned him, and cut the skin. Audun whirled his
golfing-bat round, and struck at Grettir, who dodged under and escaped
the blow. Then Audun and Grettir grappled each other, and wrestled on
the ice.
Every one thought that Audun would have the stumpy, thick-set boy down
in a trice, but it was not so; Grettir held his ground;--they swung this
way, that way; now one seemed about to be cast, and then the other, and
although Audun was almost come to a man's strength, he could not for a
long time throw Grettir. At last Grettir slipped on a piece of ice
where some had been sliding, and went down. His blood was up, so was
that of Audun; and the fight would have been continued with their
sticks, had not Grettir's brother Atli thrown himself between the
combatants and separated them. Atli held his brother back, and tried to
patch up the quarrel.
"You need not hold me like a mad dog," said Grettir. "Thralls wreak
their vengeance at once, cowards never."
Audun and Grettir were distant cousins. They were not allowed to play
against each other any more, and the rest went on with their game.
*CHAPTER III.*
*OF THE RIDE TO THINGVALLA.*
_Thorkel Mani's Find--Thorkel Krafla--The Halt at Biarg--A Bad
Prospect--Among the Lakes--The Lost Meal-bags--Suspicion
Confirmed--The Slaying of Skeggi--The Song of the
Battle-ogress--Grettir Chooses to take his Trial_
There lived in Waterdale, a day's journey from Biarg, an old bonder,
named Thorkel Krafla. He was the first Icelander who became a Christian.
In heathen times, among the Northmen as among the Romans, it was
allowable for parents to expose their children to death, if they did not
want to have the trouble of rearing them. Now Thorkel had been so
exposed, with a napkin over his face. It so happened that a great chief
called Thorkel Mani was riding along one day, thinking about the gods
that he had been taught to believe in, who drank and got drunk, and
fought each other, and, being a grave, meditative man, he could not make
out what these rollicking, fighting gods could have had to do with the
world,--with the creation of sun, moon, and stars, and the earth with
its yield. He thought to himself, "There must be some God above these
tipsy, quarrelsome deities; and this higher God must love men, and be
good and kind to men."
As he thought this, he heard a little whimpering noise from behind a
stone; he got off his horse, and went to see what produced this noise,
and found there a poor little baby, that with its tiny hands had rumpled
up the kerchief which had been spread over its nose and mouth. Thorkel
Mani took up the deserted babe in his arms, and looking up to heaven, to
the sun, said, "If the good God, who is high over all, called this
little being into life, gave it eyes and mouth and ears and hands and
feet, He surely never intended His handiwork to be cast out as a thing
of no value, to die. For the love of Him I will take this child."
Then Thorkel Mani rode home, carrying the baby in his arms; and he
called it by his own name, Thorkel; but to distinguish it from himself,
it was given the nickname Krafla, which means to rumple, because the
babe had rumpled up the kerchief, so as to let its cries be heard. So
the child grew up, and kept the name through life of Thorkel Rumple.
This Thorkel became a very great man, and Godi, or magistrate, of the
Waterdale; and, as I have said, he was the first man to become a
Christian, when missionaries of the gospel came to Iceland.
Very soon after Grettir's birth Christianity became general, and in the
year 1000 was sanctioned by law; but there were few Christian priests in
the land, so that the knowledge of the truth had not spread much, and
taken hold and transformed men's lives. Thorkel Rumple was now very old.
He was the bosom friend of Asmund, and every year when in the spring he
rode to the great assizes at Thingvalla, he always halted at least one
night at Biarg. Not only were Asmund and he men of like minds, and
friends, but they were also connected. In the spring of the year 1011,
Thorkel arrived as usual at Biarg, attended by a great many men, and he
was most warmly received by Asmund and his wife. He remained with them
three nights, and he and they fell a-talking about the prospects of the
two young men, Atli and Grettir. Asmund told his kinsman that Atli was
a quiet, amiable fellow, now at man's estate, and likely to prove a good
farmer; a man who would worthily succeed him at Biarg when he died, and
keep the honour of the family untarnished, and would enlarge the estate.
"Ah! I see," said Thorkel. "A useful man, good and respectable, like
yourself. But what about Grettir?"
Asmund hesitated a moment before answering; but presently he said, "I
hardly know what to say of him. He is unruly, sullen, makes no friends,
and he has been a constant cause of vexation to me."
Thorkel answered, "That is a bad prospect; however, let him come with me
to Thingvalla, and I shall be able to see on the journey of what stuff
he is made."
To this Asmund agreed; and right glad was Grettir to think he was to go
to the great law-gathering.
Thorkel had sixty men with him, and he rode in some state; for, as
already said, he was a great man. The way led over the great desolate
waste, called the Two-days-ride; but as on this expanse there were few
halting-places, the grass most scanty, and not sufficient to allow of a
stay, the party rode across it down to the settled lands nearer the
coast as quickly as they could, and reached Fleet-tongue in time to
sleep; so they took the bridles off their horses, and let them graze
with their saddles on. Their road had lain among the lakes, from which
issued the rivers that united above Biarg. In each lake floated a pair
of swans. Often they heard the loud hoarse cry of the great northern
diver; but there was hardly any grass, for the moor lies high, is swept
by the icy blasts from the glacier mountains to the south, and is made
up of black sand. Before them all day had stood towering into the sky
the Eyreksjokull, a mountain with perfectly precipitous sides of black
basalt, domed over with glittering ice. It resembles an immense
bridecake. At one place this mountain in former times had gaped, and
poured forth a fiery stream of lava that ran to the lakes, and for a
while converted them to steam. One can still see whence this great
fiery river issued from the mountain. Little did Grettir think then as
he passed under it, a boy of fourteen, that, for the three most lonely,
wretched years of his life, that great glacier-crowned mountain was to
be the one object on which his eye would rest.
The men were all very tired after their long ride, and they slept till
late next morning, lying about on the scant herbage, around a fire made
of the roots of trailing willows that they had dug out of the sand.
When they awoke many of the horses had strayed, and some had rolled in
the sand, burst their girths and shaken off their saddles. But they
could not have gone any great distance, for they were all hobbled. In
Iceland thick woollen ropes are put round the legs of the horses, below
the hocks, and twisted together into a knot with a knuckle-bone. This
serves as a secure hobble, and the wool being soft does not gall the
skin.
It was customary in those days for every one to take his own provisions
with him, and most of those who went to the great assize carried
meal-bags athwart their saddles. Grettir found his horse at last, but
not his meal-bag, which had come off, and was lost; for the saddle was
turned under the belly of his cob.
The horses could not have strayed far, not only because they were
hobbled, but also because the Tongue where they had been turned loose
was a narrow strip of land between two rivers; but then the slope was
considerable in places, and the meal-bag might have rolled down into the
water.
As Grettir was running about hunting for his bag, he saw another man in
the same predicament. What is more, he saw that the rest of the party,
impatient to get on their way, would tarry no longer for them, and were
defiling down the hill to cross the river.
Grettir was in great distress. Just then he saw the man run very
directly in one course, and at the same moment Grettir saw something
white lying under a mass of lava. It was towards this that the fellow
was running. Grettir ran towards it also. It was a meal-sack. The man
reached it first, and threw it over his shoulder.
"What have you got there?" asked Grettir, coming up panting.
"My meal-sack," answered the fellow.
"Let me look at it," said Grettir. "It may be mine, not yours. Let me
look before you appropriate it."
This the man refused to do.
Grettir's suspicion was confirmed, and he made a catch at the sack, and
tried to drag it away from the fellow.
"Oh, yes!" sneered the man--who was a servant at a farm called The
Ridge, in Waterdale, and his name Skeggi,--"Oh, yes! you Middlefirthers
think you will have everything your own way."
"That is not it," answered Grettir. "Let each man take his own. If the
sack be yours, keep it; if mine, I will have it."
"It is a pity Audun is not here," scoffed the serving-man, "or he would
trip up your heels and throttle you, as he did on the ice when golfing."
"But as he is not here," retorted Grettir, "you are not like to get the
better of me."
Skeggi suddenly took his axe by the haft and hewed at Grettir's head.
Grettir saw what he was at, and instantly put up his left hand and
caught the handle below where Skeggi's hand held it; wrenched it out of
his grasp, and struck him with it, so that his skull was cleft. The
thing was done in a moment, and Grettir had done it in self-preservation
and without premeditation. He was but a boy of fourteen, and this was a
full-grown stout churl.
Grettir at once seized the meal-bag, saw it was his own, and threw it
across his saddle. Then he rode after the company. Thorkel Krafla rode
at the head of his party, and he had no misgiving that anything untoward
had taken place.
But, when Grettir came riding up with his meal-bag, the men asked him if
he had left Skeggi still in search of his. Grettir answered in song:
"A rock Troll did her burden throw
Down on Skeggi's skull, I trow.
O'er the battle-ogress saw I flow
Ruby rivers all aglow.
She her iron mouth a-gape
Did the life of Skeggi take."
This sounds like nonsense; to understand it one must have a notion of
what constituted poetry in the minds of Icelanders and Northmen. With
them the charm of poetry consisted in never calling anything by its
right name, but using instead of it some far-fetched similitude or
periphrasis. Thus--the burden of the rock Troll is iron. The Troll is
the spirit of the mountain, and the heaviest thing found in the mountain
is iron. The battle-ogress is the axe which bites in battle. The
verses that the Norse poets sang were a series of conundrums, and the
hearers puzzled their brains to make out the sense. This time they soon
understood what Grettir meant, and the men turned and went back to the
Tongue, and there found Skeggi dead.
Grettir went on to Thorkel, and in few words, and to the point, told how
things had fallen out. He was not the aggressor. He had merely defended
himself.
Thorkel was much troubled, and he told Grettir that he might either come
on to the assize or go home; that this act of man-slaughter would be
investigated at the law-gathering, and judgment given upon it.
Grettir agreed to go on, and see how matters would turn out for him.
*CHAPTER IV.*
*THE DOOM-DAY.*
_The Lava Plain--The Law of Man-slaughter--Grettir's
Sentence--The Grettir Stone_
That evening they arrived at Thingvalla.
The great plain of Thingvalla is entirely composed of lava. At some
remote period before Iceland was colonized a beautiful snowy cone of
mountain, called "The Broad Shield," poured forth a deluge of molten
rock, which ran in a fiery river down a valley for some miles,
half-choking it up, and then spread out over a wide plain where
anciently there had been a great lake. Then all cooled, but after the
cooling, or whilst it was in process, there came a great crack, crack.
The great mass of lava must have been poured over some subterranean
caverns; at any rate the whole plain snapped and sank down a good many
feet, the lava becoming cracked and starred like glass. Nowadays, one
cannot cross the plain because it is all traversed with these fearful
cracks, chasms the bottom of which is filled with black water. Where
the plain sank deepest there water settled and formed the beautiful
Thingvalla Lake.
At the side of one of the cracks where the plain broke off and sank is a
very curious pinnacle of black rock, and this was called the Hanging
Rock, as criminals were hung from it over the chasm.
In one place two of the cracks unite, and there is a high mound of
blistered lava covered with turf and flowers between them. That is
called the Law Hill, because the judge and his assessors sat there, and
no one could get to them, nor could the accused get away across the
chasms.
Now it was the law at this time in Iceland that when any man had been
killed his nearest relatives came to the assize, and the slayer appeared
by proxy and offered blood-money--that is to say, to pay a fine to the
relations, and so patch up the quarrel. But if they refused the money
then they were at liberty to pursue and kill him. There were no police
then. If the relations wanted to have the criminal punished they must
punish him themselves.
Upon this occasion the case was discussed in the court on the finger of
rock between the two chasms, the people standing on the further sides of
these gulfs, listening, but unable to come a step nearer; and Thorkel
appeared for Grettir and offered to pay the blood-money. The relations
of the dead Skeggi, after a little fuss, agreed to accept a certain sum,
and Thorkel at once paid it. But the court ordered that, as Grettir had
acted with undue violence, and as there was no evidence except his word
that Skeggi had made the first attack, he should be outlawed, and leave
Iceland for three winters. If he set his foot in Iceland till three
winters had passed, his life was forfeit. He was allowed a moderate and
reasonable time for finding a ship that would take him out of the
country.
When the assize was over all rode home, and the way that Thorkel and
Grettir went was up the valley that had been half-choked with the lava
that rolled down from Broad Shield. They came to a small grassy plain
with a gently-sloping hill rising out of it, a place where games took
place, the women sitting up the slope and watching the men below. Here
Grettir is said to have heaved an enormous stone. The stone is still
shown, and I have seen it. I also know that Grettir never lifted it; for
it has clearly been brought there by a glacier. But this is an instance
of the way in which stories get magnified in telling. No doubt that
Grettir did "put" there some big stone, and as it happened that at this
spot there was a great rock standing by itself balanced on one point, in
after days folks concluded that this must have been the stone thrown by
Grettir.
*CHAPTER V.*
*THE VOYAGE.*
_Preparations for a Voyage--His Grandfather's Sword--A Bitter
Jester--Vain Reproaches--Haflid's Stratagem--The Tables
Turned--Shipwrecked_
Grettir, then, was doomed by the court to leave his native land whilst
only a boy, and remain in banishment for three years--that is to say,
till he was eighteen. He was not over sorry for this, as he was tired
of being at home, and he wanted to see the world.
There was a man called Haflid who had a ship in which he intended to
sail that autumn to Norway, and Asmund sent to him to ask him to take
Grettir out with him.
Haflid answered that he had not heard a good account of the boy, and did
not particularly wish to have him in his boat; but he would stretch a
point, because of the regard he had for old Asmund, and he would take
him.
Grettir got ready to start; but Asmund would not give him much wherewith
to trade when abroad, except some rolls of home-made wadmall, a coarse
felty cloth, and a stock of victuals for his voyage. Grettir asked his
father to give him some weapon; but the old man answered that he did not
trust him with swords and axes, he might put them to a bad use, and it
would be better he went without till he had learned to control his
temper and keep a check on his hand.
So Grettir parted from his father without much love on either side; and
it was noticed when he left home that, though there were plenty of folks
ready to bid him farewell, hardly anyone said that he hoped to see him
come home again--a certain token that he was not liked by those who had
seen most of him. But indeed he had taken no pains to oblige anyone and
obtain the regard and love of anyone.
His mother was an exception. She went along the road down the valley
with him, wearing a long cloak; and when they were alone, at some
distance from the house, she halted and drew out a sword from under her
cloak, and handing it to Grettir, said: "This sword belonged to
grandfather, and many a hard fight has it been in, and much good work
has it done. I give it to you, and hope it may stand you in good
stead."
Grettir was highly pleased, and told his mother that he would rather
have the sword than anything else that could be given him.
Haflid received Grettir in a friendly manner, and he went at once on
board; the ship's anchor was heaved, and forth they went to sea.
Now, directly Grettir got on board he looked about for a place where he
could be comfortable, and chose to make a berth for himself under a boat
that was slung on deck; then he put up his wadmall, making a sort of
felt lining or wall round against the wind and spray, leaving open only
the side inwards, and inside he piled his provisions and whatever he
had; then he lay down there and did not stir from his snuggery. Now, it
was the custom in those days for every man who went in a ship to help in
the navigation; but Grettir would not only do nothing, but from his den
he shouted or sang lampoons--that is, spiteful songs, making fun of
every man on board. They were not good-natured jokes, but bitter,
stinging ones.
Naturally enough the other men were annoyed, and they were not slow to
tell Grettir what they thought of him. He made no other reply than a
lampoon.
After the ship had lost sight of land a heavy sea was encountered, and
unfortunately the vessel was rather leaky and hardly seaworthy in dirty
weather. The weather was squally and very cold, so that the men suffered
much. Moreover, they had to bale out the water from the hold, and this
was laborious work. They had not pumps in those days.
The gale increased, and the crew and passengers had been engaged for
several days and nights in baling without intermission, but Grettir
would not help. He lay coiled up in his wadmall under the boat, peering
out at the men and throwing irritating snatches of song at them. This
exasperated them to such an extent that they determined to take him and
throw him overboard. Haflid heard what they said, and he went to
Grettir and reproached him, and told him what was menaced.
"Let them try to use force if they will," said Grettir. "All I can say
is that I sha'n't go overboard alone as long as my sword will bite."
"How can you behave as you do?" said Haflid. "Keep silence at least, and
do not madden the men with your mockery and sneers."
"I cannot hold my tongue from stabbing," said Grettir.
"Very well, then, stab on, but stab me."
"No; you have not hurt me."
"I say, stab me. Then, if the fellows hear you sing or say something
spiteful of me, and I disregard it, they will not mind so much the
ill-natured things you say of them."
Grettir considered a moment, and then, remembering that he had heard of
something ridiculous that had once occurred to Haflid, he composed a
verse about it and shouted it derisively at Haflid as he walked away.
"Just listen to him," said Haflid to the men. "Now he is slandering and
insulting me. He is an ill-conditioned cur, so ill-conditioned that I
will not stoop to take notice of his insolence. And if you take my
advice you will disregard him as I do."
"Well," said the men, "if you shrug your shoulders and pay no regard to
his bark, why should we?"
So Haflid, by his tact, smoothed over this difficulty, and averted a
danger from Grettir's head.
The weather slowly began to mend, and the sun shone out between the
clouds; but the wind was still strong, and the leak gained on the ship,
for her bottom was rotten. Now that the sun shone, the poor women who
had been aboard and under cover during the gale, crawled forth and came
to the side where the boat was, and where was a little shelter, and
there sat sewing; whilst Grettir still lay, like a dog in his hutch,
within. Then the men began to laugh, and say that Grettir had found
suitable company at last--he was not a man among men, but a milksop
among women. This was turning the tables on him, and this roused him.
Out he came crawling from his den, and ran aft to where the men were
baling, and asked to be given the buckets. The way in which it was done
was for one to go down into the hold into the water, and fill a tub or
cask and hoist it over his head to another man, who carried it up on
deck and poured it over the bulwarks. Grettir swung himself down into
the hold, and filled and heaved so fast that there had to be two men set
to carry up the baling casks, and then two more, four in all attending
to him. At one time he even kept eight going, so vigorously did he
work;--but then he was fresh, and they exhausted.
When the men saw what a strong, active fellow Grettir was, they praised
him greatly, and Grettir, unaccustomed to praise, was delighted and
worked on vigorously, and thenceforth was of the utmost assistance in
the ship.
They still had bad weather, thick mist, in which they drifted and lost
their bearings, and one night unawares they ran suddenly on a rock, and
the rotten bottom of the ship was crushed in. They had the utmost
difficulty in rescuing their goods and getting the boat ready; but
fortunately they were able to put all the women and the loose goods into
the boat, man her, and row off before the ship went to pieces. They
came to a sandy island, ran the boat ashore, and disembarked in the cold
and wet and darkness.
*CHAPTER VI.*
*THE RED ROVERS.*
_Rescued from the Holm--The Sullen Guest--The Outlawed
Rovers--Yule-tide Gatherings--The Suspicious Craft--Grettir
Guides the Rovers--The Worst Ruffians in Norway--Grettir
Entertains the Band--A Crew of Revellers--When the Wine is
in--Thorfin's Treasures--Prisoners and Unarmed--Mad with Drink
and Fury--One Against Twelve--In Hot Pursuit--The Slaughter in
the Boat-shed--The Last of the Band--Wearied with
Slaying--Thorfin's Return--A Moment of Perplexity--Better than a
Dozen Men--The Gift of the Sword_
One morning, after a night of storm on the coast of Norway, the servants
ran into the hall of a wealthy bonder, named Thorfin, to tell him that
during the night a ship had been wrecked off the coast, and that the
crew and passengers were crowded on a little sandy holm, and were
signalling for help.
The bonder sprang up and ran down to the shore. He ordered out a great
punt from his boat-house, and jumping in with his thralls, rowed to the
holm to rescue those who were there.
These were, I need not tell you, the crew and passengers of Haflid's
merchant vessel. Thorfin took the half-frozen wretches on board his
boat and rowed them to his farm, after which he returned to the islet
and brought away the wares. In the meantime his good housewife had been
lighting fires, preparing beds, brewing hot ale with honey to sweeten
it, and making every preparation she could think of for the sufferers.
Haflid and the rest of the merchants or chapmen who had sailed with him
remained at the farm a week, whilst the women were recovering from the
cold and exposure and their goods were being dried and sorted. Then
they departed, with many thanks for the hospitality shown them, on their
way to Drontheim.
Grettir, however, remained. Thorfin, the master of the house, did not
much like him. He did not ask him to stay; but then he had not the lack
of hospitality to bid him depart. In the farm Grettir never offered to
lend a hand in any of the work; he never joined in conversation, he sat
over the fire warming himself, and ate and drank heartily.
Thorfin was much abroad, hunting or seeing after the wood-cutting, and
he often asked Grettir to come with him. But he was granted no other
answer than a shake of the head and a growl. Now the bonder was a
merry, kindly-hearted fellow, and he liked to have all about him
cheerful. It is no wonder, then, that Grettir, morose and indolent,
found no favour with him.
Yule drew near, and Thorfin busked him to depart, with a number of his
attendants, to keep the festival at one of his farms distant a good
day's journey. His wife was unable to accompany him, as his eldest
daughter was ill and needed careful nursing. Grettir he did not invite,
as his sullenness would have acted as a damper on the joviality of the
banquet.
The farmer started for his house where he was going to spend Yule some
days before. A large company of guests were invited to meet him, so he
took thirty serving-men to attend on him and them.
Norway was at this time being brought into order by Earl Erik, who was
putting down with a high hand the bands of rovers who had been the
terror of the country. He had outlawed all these men, and that meant
that whoever killed them could not be fined or punished in any way for
the slaying. Now Thorfin, the farmer with whom Grettir was staying, had
been very active against these rovers, and they bore him a grudge.
Among the worst of them were two brothers, Thorir wi' the Paunch and Bad
Ogmund. They had not yet been caught, and they defied the power of the
Earl. They robbed wherever they went, burned farms over the heads of
the sleeping inmates, and with the points of their spears drove the
shrieking victims back into the flames when they attempted to escape.
Christmas Eve was bright and sunny, and the sick girl was sufficiently
recovered to be brought out to take the air on the sunny side of the
great hall, leaning on her mother's arm.
Grettir spent the whole day out of doors, not in the most amiable mood
at being shut out from the merry-makings, and left to keep house with
the women and eight dunderheaded churls. He fed his discontent by
sitting on a headland watching the boats glide by, as parties went to
convivial gatherings at the houses of their friends. The deep blue sea
was speckled with sails, as though gulls were plunging in the waters.
Now a stately dragon-ship rolled past, her fearful carved head
glittering with golden scales, her sails spread like wings before the
breeze, and her banks of oars dipping into the sea and flashing as they
rose. Now a wherry was rowed by laden with cakes and ale, and the
boatmen's song rang merrily through the crisp air.
The day began to decline, and Grettir was on the point of returning to
the farm, when the strange proceedings of a craft at no great distance
attracted his attention. He noticed that she stole along in the shadows
of the islets, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Grettir could
make out of her just this much, that she was floating low in the water,
and was built for speed. As she stranded the rowers jumped on the
beach. Grettir counted them, and found they were twelve, all armed men.
They burst into Thorfin's boat-house, thrust out his punt, and in its
place drew in their own vessel, and pulled her up on the rollers.
Mischief was a-brewing--that was clear. So Grettir went down the hill,
and sauntered up to the strangers, with his hands in his pockets,
kicking the pebbles before him.
"Who is your leader?" he asked curtly.
"I am. What do you want with me?" answered a stout coarse man--"Thorir,
whom they nickname 'wi' the Paunch.' Here is my brother Ogmund. I
reckon that Thorfin knows our names well enough. Don't you think so,
brother? We have come here to settle a little outstanding reckoning.
Is he at home?"
"You are lucky fellows," laughed Grettir, "coming here in the very nick
of time. The bonder is away with all his able-bodied and fighting men,
and won't be back for a couple of days. His wife and daughter are,
however, at the farm. Now is your time if you have old scores to wipe
off; for he has left all his things that he values unprotected, silver,
clothing, ale, and food in abundance."
Thorir listened, then turning to Ogmund he said, "This is as I had
expected. But what a chatterbox this fellow is, he lets out everything
without being asked questions."
"Every man knows the use of his tongue," said Grettir. "Now, follow me,
and I will do what I can for you."
The rovers at once followed. Then Grettir took fat Thorir by the hand
and led him to the farm, talking all the way as hard as his tongue could
wag. Now the housewife happened at the time to be in the hall, and
hearing Grettir thus talking, she was filled with surprise, and called
out to know whom he had with him.
"I have brought you guests for Yule," said Grettir. "We shall not keep
it in as dull a fashion as we feared. Here come visitors uninvited, but
merry, uncommon merry."
"Who are they?" asked the housewife.
"Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad, and ten of their comrades."
Then she cried out: "What have you done? These are the worst ruffians
in all Norway. Is this the way you repay the kindness Thorfin has shown
you in housing and keeping you here, without it's costing you anything?"
"Stay your woman's tongue!" growled Grettir. "Now bestir yourself and
bring out dry clothes for the guests."
Then the housewife ran away crying, and her sick daughter, who saw the
house invaded by ill-looking men all armed, hid herself.
"Well," said Grettir, "as the women are too scared to attend on you, I
will do what is necessary; so give me your wet clothes, and let me wipe
your weapons and set them by the fire lest they get rusted."
"You are a different fellow from all the rest in the house."
"I do not belong to the house. I am a stranger, an Icelander."
"Then I don't mind taking you along with us when we go away."
"As you will," answered the young fellow; "only mind, I don't behave
like this to every one."
Then the freebooters gave him their weapons, and he wiped the salt water
from them, and laid them aside in a warm spot. Next he removed their
wet garments, and brought them dry suits which he routed out of the
clothes-chests belonging to Thorfin and his men.
By this time it was night. Grettir brought in logs and faggots of fir
branches, and made a roaring fire that filled the great hall with ruddy
light and warmth. In those days the halls were long buildings with a
set of hearths running down the middle, and benches beside the fires.
"Now, then, my men," said Grettir, "come to the table and drink, for I
doubt not you are thirsty with long rowing."
"We are ready," said they. "But where are the cellars?"
"Oh, if you please, I will bring you ale."
"Certainly, you shall attend on us," said Thorir.
Then Grettir went and fetched the best and strongest ale in Thorfin's
cellars, and poured it out for the men. They were very tired and
thirsty, and they drank eagerly. Grettir did not stint them in meat or
drink, and at last he took his place by them, and recited many tales
that made them laugh, he also sang them songs; but they were becoming
fast too tipsy to rack their brains to find out the meaning in the
poetry.
Not one of the house-churls showed his face in the hall that evening;
they slunk about the farm, in the stables and sheds, frightened and
trembling.
Then said Thorir: "I'll tell you what, my men. I like this young chap,
and I doubt our finding another so handy and willing. What say you all
to our taking him into our band?"
The pirates banged their drinking-horns on the table in token of
approval. Then Grettir stood up and said:
"I thank you for the offer, and if you are in the same mind to-morrow
morning when the ale is no longer in your heads, I will strike hands and
go with you."
"Let us drink brotherhood at once," shouted the rovers.
"Not so," said Grettir calmly. "I will not have it said that I took
advantage of you when you were not sober. It is said that when the wine
is in the wit is out."
They all protested that they would be of the same mind next morning, but
Grettir stuck to his decision. They were now becoming so tipsy that he
proposed they should go to bed.
"But first of all," said he, "I think you will like to run your eyes
over Thorfin's storehouse where he keeps all his treasures."
"That we shall!" roared Thorir, staggering to his feet.
Then Grettir took a blazing firebrand from the hearth, and led the way
out of the hall into the night.
The storehouse was detached from the main buildings. It was very
strongly built of massive logs, firmly mortised together. The door also
was very solid, and the whole stood on a strong stone basement, and a
flight of stone steps led up to the door. Adjoining the storehouse was
a lean-to building divided off from it by a partition of planks.
The sharp frosty air of night striking on the faces of the revellers
increased their intoxication, and they became very riotous, staggering
against each other, uttering howls and attempting to sing.
Drawing back the bolt Grettir flung the door open, and showed the twelve
rovers into the treasury; and he held the flaming torch above his head
and showed the silver-mounted drinking-horns, the embroidered garments,
the rich fur mantles, gold bracelets, and bags filled with silver coins
obtained from England. The drunken men dashed upon the spoil, knocking
each other over and quarrelling for the goods they wanted.
In the midst of this noise and tumult Grettir quietly extinguished the
torch, stepped outside and ran the bolt into its place; he had shut them
all--all twelve, into the strong-room, and not one of them had his
weapons about him.
Then Grettir ran to the farm door and shouted for the housewife. But
she would not answer, as she mistrusted him; and no wonder, for he had
seemed to be hand and glove with the pirates.
"Come, come!" shouted Grettir, "I have caught all twelve, and all I need
now are weapons. Call up the thralls and arm them. Quick! not a moment
must be lost."
"There are plenty of weapons here," answered the poor woman, emerging
from her place of concealment. "But, Grettir, I mistrust you."
"Trust or no trust," said Grettir, "I must have weapons. Where are the
serving-men? Here, Kolbein! Swein! Gamli! Rolf! Confound the
rascals, where are they skulking?"
"Over Thorfin's bed hangs a great barbed spear," said the housewife.
"You will also find a sword and helmet and cuirass. No lack of weapons,
only pluck to wield them is needed."
Grettir seized the casque and spear, girded on the sword and dashed into
the yard, begging the woman to send the churls after him. She called
the eight men, and they came up timidly--that is to say, four appeared
and took the weapons, but the other four, after showing their faces, ran
and hid themselves again, they were afraid to measure swords with the
terrible rovers.
In the meantime the pirates had been trying the door, but it was too
massive for them to break through, so they tore down the partitions of
boards between the store and the lean-to room at the side. They were mad
with drink and fury. They broke down the door of the side-room easily
enough, and came out on the platform at the head of the stone steps just
as Grettir reached the bottom.
Thorir and Ogmund were together. In the fitful gleams of the moon they
seemed like demons as they scrambled out, armed with splinters of deal
they had broken from the planks and turned into weapons. The brothers
plunged down the narrow stairs with a howl that rang through the
snow-clad forest for miles. Grettir planted the boar-spear in the
ground and caught Thorir on its point. The sharp double-edged blade,
three feet in length, sliced into him and came out between his
shoulders, then tore into Ogmund's breast a span deep. The yew shaft
bent like a bow, and flipped from the ground the stone against which the
butt-end had been planted. The wretched men crashed over the stair,
tried to rise, staggered, and fell again. Grettir trod on Thorir,
wrenched the spear out of him, and then running up the steps cut down
another rover as he came through the door. Then the rest came out
stumbling over each other, some armed with bits of broken stick, others
unarmed, and as they came forth Grettir hewed at them with the sword, or
thrust at them with the spear.
In the meantime the churls had come up, armed indeed, but not knowing
how to use the weapons, and in a condition of too great terror to use
them to any purpose. The pirates saw that they were being worsted, and
their danger sobered them. They went back into the room and ripped the
planks till they had obtained serviceable pieces, and then came two
together down the stair, warding off Grettir's blows with their sticks,
and not attempting to strike. Then they forced him back and allowed
space and time for those behind to leap down to the ground. If then they
had combined they might have recovered the mastery, but they did not
believe that they were assailed by a single enemy, they thought that
there must have been many; consequently those who had leaped from the
platform, instead of attacking Grettir from behind, ran away across the
farmyard, and those who were warding off his blows, finding themselves
unsupported, lost heart, and leaped down as well and attempted to
escape. The yard was full of flying frightened wretches, too blinded by
their fear to find the gate, and in the wildness of their terror they
climbed or leaped over the yard wall and ran towards the boat-house.
Grettir went after them. They plunged into the dark boat-shed, and
possessed themselves of the oars, whilst some tried to run their boat
down into the water. Grettir followed them in the gloom, smiting to
right and left. The bewildered wretches in the darkness hit each other,
stumbled and fell in the boat, and some wounded went into the water.
The thralls, content that the pirates had cleared out of the yard, did
not trouble themselves to pursue them, but went into the farmhouse. The
good woman in vain urged them to go after and succour Grettir. They
thought they had done quite enough. It is true, they had neither killed
nor wounded anyone, but they had seen some men killed. So Grettir got
no help from them. He was still in the boat-house, and he had this
advantage: the boat-house was open to the air on the side that faced the
sea, whilst the further side was closed with a door, consequently
Grettir was himself in shadow. But the moon shone on the water, and he
could see the black figures of the rovers cut sharply against this
silver background. So he could see where to strike, whilst he himself
was unseen.
One stroke from an oar reached him on the shoulder, and for the moment
numbed his arm; but he speedily recovered sensation, and killed two more
of the ruffians; then the remaining four made a dash together, past him,
through the door, and separating into pairs, fled in opposite
directions. Grettir went after one of the couples and tracked them to a
neighbouring farm, where they dashed into a granary and hid among the
straw. Unfortunately for them most of the wheat had been thrashed out,
so that only a few bundles remained. Grettir shut and bolted the door
behind him, then chased the poor wretches like rats from corner to
corner, till he had cut them both down. Then he opened the door, and
cast the corpses outside.
In the meanwhile the weather was changing, the sky had become overcast
with a thick snow fog that rolled up from the sea, so that Grettir, on
coming out, saw that he must abandon the pursuit of the remaining two.
Moreover, his arm pained him, his strength was failing him, and a sense
of overpowering fatigue stole over him.
The housewife had placed a lamp in a window of a loft as a guide to
Grettir in the fog; the stupid house-thralls could not be induced by her
to go out in search of him, and she was becoming uneasy at his
protracted absence. The fog turned into small snow, thick and blinding,
and Grettir struggled through it with difficulty, as the weariness he
felt became almost overpowering. At last he reached the farm and
staggered in through the door. He could hardly speak. He went to the
table, took a horn of mead, drank some, and then threw himself down
among the rushes on the floor by the fire, full armed grasping the
sword, and in a moment was asleep.
He did not wake for twelve hours; but the cautious and prudent housewife
had sent out the carles in search of the pirates. The dead bodies were
found, some in the yard, some in the boat-house; then Grettir woke and
came to them and pointed out in what direction the only remaining two
had run. The snow had fallen so thick that their traces could not be
followed, but before nightfall they were discovered, dead, under a rock
where they had taken refuge; they had died of cold and loss of blood.
All the bodies were collected and a great cairn of stones was piled over
them.
When they had been buried, then the housewife made Grettir take the high
seat in the hall, and she treated him with the utmost respect, as he
deserved.
Time passed, and Thorfin prepared to return home; he dismissed his
guests, and he and his men got into their boat to return home. No
tidings had reached him of the events that had happened whilst he had
been away. The first thing he saw as he came rowing to his harbour was
his punt lying stranded. This surprised and alarmed him, and he bade his
men row harder. They ran to the boat-house, and then saw it occupied by
a vessel, on the rollers, which there was no mistaking; he knew it well,
it belonged to those redoubted pirates Thorir and Ogmund. For a moment
he was silent with the terror and grief that came on him. "The Red
Rovers!" he said, when he recovered the stunning sense of alarm. "The
Red Rovers are here--they are on my farm. God grant they have not hurt
my wife and daughter!"
Then he considered what was to be done, whether it was best to go at
once to the farm, or to make a secret approach to it from different
quarters, and surprise the enemy.
Grettir was to blame. He ought not to have allowed Thorfin to be thus
thrown into uncertainty and distress. He had seen the master's boat
round the headland and enter the bay, but he would neither go himself to
meet him on the strand, nor suffer anyone else to go.
"I do not care even if the bonder be a bit disturbed at what he sees,"
said the young man.
"Then let me go," urged the wife.
"You are mistress, do as you like," said Grettir bluntly.
So the housewife and her daughter went down towards the boat-house, and
when Thorfin saw them he ran to meet them, greatly relieved but much
perplexed, and he clasped his wife to his heart and said, "God be
praised that you and my child are safe! But tell me how matters have
stood whilst I have been away, for I cannot understand the boat being
where I found it."
"We have been in grievous peril," answered his wife. "But the
shipwrecked boy whom you sheltered has been our protector, better than a
dozen men."
Then he said, "Sit down on this rock by me and tell me all."
They took each other by the hand and sat on a stone; and the attendants
gathered round, and the housewife told them the whole story from
beginning to end. When she spoke of the way in which the young
Icelander had led the tipsy rovers into the storehouse and fastened them
in, without their swords, the men burst into a shout of joy; and when
her tale was concluded, their exultant cries rang so loud that Grettir
heard them in the farmhouse.
Thorfin said nothing to interrupt the thread of his wife's story; and
after she had done he remained silent, rapt in thought. No one ventured
to disturb him. Presently he looked up, and said quietly, "That is a
good proverb which says, 'Never despair of anyone.' Now I must speak a
word with Grettir."
Thorfin walked with his wife to the farm, and when he saw Grettir he
held out both his hands to him, and thanked him.
"This I say to you," said Thorfin, "which few would say to their best of
friends--that I hope some day you may need my help, and then I will
prove to you how thankful I am for what you have done. I can say no
more."
Grettir thanked him, and spent the rest of the winter at his house. The
story of what he had done spread through all the country, and was much
praised, especially by such as had suffered from the violence of the Ked
Rovers. But Thorfin made to Grettir a present, in acknowledgment of
what he had done; and that present was the sword that had hung above his
bed, with which Grettir had killed so many of the rovers. Now,
concerning this sword a tale has to be told.
*CHAPTER VII.*
*THE STORY OF THE SWORD.*
_The Light on the Cliff--The Grave of Karr the Old--The Visit to
the Ness--The Chamber of the Dead--The Shape on the Throne--In
the Dead Man's Arms--A Fearful Wrestle--The Dead Vanquished--The
Dragon's Treasure--The Tale of the Sword--The Two Swords of
Grettir_
Some little while before the slaying of the Red Rovers, a strange event
had taken place.
Grettir had made the acquaintance of a man called Audun, who lived at a
little farm at some distance from the house of Thorfin, and he walked
over there occasionally to sit and talk with his friend. As he returned
late at night he noticed that a strange light used to dance at the end
of a cliff that overhung the sea, at the end of a headland; a lonely
desolate headland it was, without house or stall near it. Grettir had
never been there, and as it was so bare, he knew that no one lived on
that headland, so he could not account for the light. One day he said
to Audun that he had seen this strange light, which was not steady but
flickered; and he asked him what it meant.
Audun at once became very grave, and after a moment's hesitation said,
"You are right. No one lives on that ness, but there is a great mound
there, under which is buried Karr the Old, the forefather of your host
Thorfin; and it is said that much treasure was buried with him. That is
why the ghostly light burns above the mound, for--you must know that
flames dance over hidden treasure."
"If treasure be hidden there, I will dig it up," said Grettir.
"Attempt nothing of the kind," said Audun, "or Thorfin will be angry.
Besides, Karr the Old is a dangerous fellow to have to deal with. He
walks at night, and haunts all that headland and has scared away the
dwellers in the nearest farms. No one dare live there because of him.
That is why the Ness is all desolate without houses."
"I will stay the night here," said Grettir, "and to-morrow we will go
together to the Ness, and take spade and pick and a rope, and I will see
what can be found."
Audun did not relish the proposal, but he did not like to seem
behindhand with Grettir, and he reluctantly agreed to go with him.
So next day the two went out on the Ness together. They passed two
ruined farmhouses, the buildings rotting, the roofs fallen in. Those
who had lived in them had been driven away by the dweller in the old
burial mound, or barrow. The Norse name for these sepulchral mounds is
_Haug_, pronounced almost like How; and where in England we have places
with the names ending in _hoe_, there undoubtedly in former times were
such mounds. Thus, in Essex are Langenhoe and Fingringhoe, that is to
say the Long Barrow and Fingar's How. Also, the Hoe, the great walk at
Plymouth above the sea, derives its name from some old burial mound now
long ago destroyed.
The Ness was a finger of land running out into the sea, and on it grew
no trees, only a little coarse grass; at the end rose a great circular
bell-shaped mound, with a ring of stones set round it, to mark its
circumference. Grettir began to dig at the summit, and he worked hard.
The day was short, and the sun was touching the sea as his pickaxe went
through an oak plank, into a hollow space beneath, and he knew at once
that he had struck into the chamber of the dead. He worked with
redoubled energy, and tore away the planks, leaving a black hole beneath
of unknown depth, but which to his thinking could not be more than seven
feet beneath him. Then he called to Audun for the rope. The end he
fastened round his waist, and bade his friend secure the other end to a
pole thrown across the pit mouth. When this was done, Audun cautiously
let Grettir down into the chamber of the dead.
Now, you must know that in heathen times what was often done with old
warriors was to draw up a boat on the shore, and to seat the dead man in
the cabin, with his horse slain beside him, sometimes some of his slaves
or thralls were also killed and put in with him, and his choicest
treasures were heaped about him. This men did because they thought that
the dead man would want his weapons, his raiment, his ornaments, his
horse and his servants in the spirit world. Of late years such a mound
has been opened in Norway, and a great ship found in it, well preserved,
with the old dead chief's bones in it. When a ship was not buried, then
a chamber of strong planks was built, and he was put in that, and the
earth heaped over him. Into such a chamber had Grettir now dug.
He soon reached the bottom, and was in darkness, only a little light
came in from above, through the hole he had broken in the roof of the
cabin or chamber. His feet were among bones, and these he was quite
sure were horse bones. Then he groped about.
As his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he discerned a
figure seated in a throne. It was the long-dead Karr the Old. He was
in full harness, with a helmet on his head with bull's horns sticking
out, one on each side; his hands were on his knees, and his feet on a
great chest. Round his neck was a gold torque or necklet, made of bars
of twisted gold, hooked together behind the head. Grettir in the dark
could only just make out the glimmer of the gold, but it seemed to him
that a phosphorescent light played about the face of the dead chief.
So little light was left, that Grettir hasted to collect what he could.
There stood a brazen vessel near the chair, in which were various
articles, probably of worth, but it was too dark for Grettir to see what
they were. He brought the vessel to the rope and fastened the end of
the cord to its handle. Then he went back to the old dead man and drew
away a short sword that lay on his lap, and this he placed in the brass
vessel. Next he began to unhook the gold torque from his neck, and as
he did this the phosphorescent flame glared strangely about the dead
man's face.
Then, all at once, as both his hands were engaged undoing the hook
behind Karr's neck, he was clipped. The dead man's arms had clutched
him, and with a roar like a bull Karr the Old stood up, holding him
fast, and now all the light that had played over his features gathered
into and glared out of his eyes.
When Audun heard the roar, he was so frightened that he ran from the
barrow, and did not stay his feet till he reached home, feeling
convinced that the ghost or whatever it was that lived in the tomb had
torn Grettir to pieces.
Then began in the chamber of the dead a fearful wrestle. Grettir was at
times nigh on smothered by the gray beard of the dead chief, that had
been growing, growing, in the vault, ever since he had been buried.
How long that terrible struggle continued no one can tell. Grettir had
to use his utmost force to stand against Karr the Old. The two wrestled
up and down in the chamber, kicking the horse bones about from side to
side, stumbling over the coffer, and the brass vessel, and the horse's
skull, striking against the sides, and when they did this then masses of
earth and portions of broken plank fell in from above.
At last Karr's feet gave way under him and he fell, and Grettir fell
over him. Then instantly he laid hold of his sword, and smote off Old
Karr's head and laid it beside his thigh.
This, according to Norse belief, was the only way in which to prevent a
dead man from walking, who had haunted the neighbourhood of his tomb,
and in the Icelandic sagas we hear of other cases where the same
proceeding was gone through. The Norsemen held to something more
dreadful than ghosts walking; they thought that some evil spirit entered
into the bodies of the dead, that when this happened the dead no longer
decayed, but walked, and ate, and drank, and fought, very much like
living ruffians, but with redoubled strength. Then, when this happened,
nothing was of any avail save the digging up of the dead man, cutting
off his head and laying it at his thigh.
When Grettir had done this, he despoiled Karr the Old of his helm, his
breast-plate, his torque, and he took the box on which the feet had
rested. He fastened all together to the rope, and called to Audun to
haul up. He received no answer, so he swarmed up himself, and finding
that his friend had run away he pulled up what he had tied together, and
carried the whole lot in his arms to the house of Thorfin. Thorfin and
his party were at supper; and when Grettir came in, the bonder looked
up, and asked why he did not keep regular hours, and be at the table
when the meal began. Grettir made no other answer than to throw all he
carried down on the supper-table before the master. Thorfin raised his
eyebrows when he saw so much treasure.
"Where did you get all this?" he asked.
Then Grettir answered in one of his enigmatical songs:
"Thou who dost the wave-shine shorten,
My attempt has been to find
In the barrow what was hidden,
Deep in darkness black and blind.
Nothing of the dragon's treasure
With the dead is left behind."
By the wave-shine shortener he meant Thorfin; the dragon's treasure
meant gold, because dragons were thought to line their lairs with that
metal.
Thorfin saw that Grettir's eye looked longingly at the short sword that
had lain on the knees of Karr. He said: "It was a heathen custom in old
times to bury very much that was precious along with the dead. I do not
blame you for what you have done; but this I will say, that there is no
one else about this place who would have ventured to attempt what you
have done. As for that sword on which you cast your eyes so longingly,
it has ever been in our family, and I cannot part with it till you have
shown that you are worthy to wear it."
Then that sword was hung up over Thorfin's bed. You have heard how
Grettir did show that he was worthy to wear it, and also how Thorfin
gave it him.
Now, this tale about the sword will very well illustrate what was said
at the beginning, that the history of Grettir contains, in the main,
truth; but that this substance of truth has been embroidered over by
fancy. What is true is, that during the winter in which he was with
Thorfin he did dig into the mound in which Karr was buried, and did take
thence his treasures and his sword. But all the story of his fight with
the dead man was added. The same story occurs in a good many other
sagas, as in that of Hromund Greip's son, who also got a sword by
digging into a barrow for it. When the history of Grettir was told, and
this adventure of his was related, those who told the story imported
into it the legend of the fight of Hromund in the grave with the dead
man, so as to make the history of Grettir more amusing. As you will see
by the tale, no one else was present when it happened, for Audun had run
away, and it was not like Grettir to boast of what he had done. This
was an embellishment added by the story-teller, and from the storyteller
the incident passed into the volume of the story-writer.
Grettir had now two good swords; one long, which he called Jokull's
Gift, that he had received from his mother, and this short one that he
wore at his girdle, which he had taken out of the grave of Karr the Old,
and which he had won fairly by his bravery in the defence of the house
and family of Thorfin.
*CHAPTER VIII.*
*OF THE BEAR.*
_Grettir goes North--Biorn the Braggart--The Bear's Den--Biorn's
Feat--A Hunting Party--The Lost Cloak--Grettir Seeks the Bear
Alone--Grettir's Hardest Tussle--The Fall Over the
Cliff--Thorgils Acts as Peacemaker--Grettir Restrains Himself_
When spring came, then Grettir left his friend Thorfin, and went north
along the Norwegian coast, and was everywhere well received, because the
story of how he had killed twelve rovers, he being as yet but a boy, was
noised through all the country, and every one who had anything to lose
felt safer because that wicked gang was broken up. Nothing of
consequence is told about him during that summer. For the winter he did
not return to Thorfin as asked, but accepted the invitation of another
bonder, named Thorgils.
Thorgils was a merry, pleasant man, and he had a great company in his
house that winter. Among his visitors was a certain Biorn, a distant
cousin, a man whom Thorgils did not like, as he was a slanderous-tongued
fellow, and moreover he was a braggart. He was one of those persons we
meet with not infrequently who cannot endure to hear another praised;
who, the moment a good word is spoken of someone, immediately puts in a
nasty, spiteful word, and tells an unkind story, so as to drag that
person down in the general opinion. At the same time, concerning
himself he had only praiseworthy and wonderful feats to relate about his
wit, his wisdom, his craft, his knowledge of the world, about his
strength and courage.
Thorgils knew how much, or rather how little, to believe of what Biorn
said, and he did not pay much regard to his talk. But now Grettir had
an opportunity of seeing and of feeling how mistaken had been his
conduct on board the ship upon which he had come to Norway, when he made
lampoons on the sailors and chapmen, and stung them with sharp words.
He saw how disagreeable a fellow Biorn was, how much he was disliked,
and by some despised; and he kept very greatly to himself and out of
Biorn's way. He did not wish to quarrel with him, because he was the
relative of his host, and he was afraid that his anger would get the
better of him if he did come to words with the braggart.
Grettir had grown a great deal since he left Iceland, and he was now a
strapping fellow, broad built but not short. He was not handsome, but
his face was intelligent.
It fell out that a bear gave much trouble that winter to Thorgils and
the neighbouring farmers. It was so strong and so daring that no folds
were secure against it, and Thorgils and the other farmers endured
severe losses through the depredations of Bruin.
Before Yule, a party was formed to go in search of and kill the bear,
but all that was done was to find the lair.
The bear had taken up his abode in the face of a tremendous cliff that
overhung the sea. There was but one path up to the cave, and that was
so narrow that only one man could creep along it at a time. Moreover, if
his foot slipped he would be flung over the edge upon the rocks or
skerries below against which the waves dashed.
"When the den of the bear had been discovered," Biorn said, "That is the
main thing. Now I know where the rogue lies, I'll settle with him,
trust me. I've been the death of scores of bears. My only dread is lest
he be afraid of me, and will not come on."
And, actually, Biorn went out on several moonlit nights to watch for the
bear. He saw that the only way to deal with him would be to stop the
track from the den, and fight him as he attempted to come away. He took
his short sword and great shield with him covered with ox-hide, and one
night he laid himself down on the path of the bear, and put his shield
over him. He thought that Bruin would come smelling at the great
hide-covered shield, and then all at once he (Biorn) would spring up and
drive his sword into the heart of the bear. That was his plan--and not a
bad plan--only, unfortunately for Biorn, the bear did not come out for a
long time. He had got an inkling that a man was watching for him, so he
was shy, and whilst he waited before venturing forth, Biorn, who had
been drinking pretty freely that evening, went to sleep.
Presently the bear came out, crept cautiously down the narrow track,
snuffing about, and when he came to Biorn, he plucked with his claws at
the shield, and with one wrench had it off and tumbled it down the
cliff.
Biorn woke with a start, rose to his knees, saw the huge bear before
him, and in a moment turned tail, and ran as hard as he could run to
Thorgils' house, and was too scared to be able to boast that he had
killed or wounded the bear.
Next morning his shield was found where the bear had thrown it, and much
fun did this adventure of the braggart occasion. This made him very
irritable and more spiteful than ever.
Thorgils now said that really something must be done to rid the
neighbourhood of the bear, so a party of eight set out well armed with
spears; of this party were Biorn and Grettir. They reached the point
where the track to the den ran up the cliff to the lair, and one man
after another tried it. But there was no getting at the bear; for as
soon as a man came near the beast put his great forepaws forth and
caught and snapped the spear-heads or beat them down. As already said,
only one could crawl up at a time.
Grettir had gone out that day in a fur coat that his friend Thorfin had
given him, and which he greatly valued. When the onslaught against the
bear began, he took off his fur coat, and folded it, and put it on a
stone. Biorn saw this, and, when none observed, he took the fur coat
and threw it into the cave of the bear. Grettir did not see what had
been done till the party, disappointed with their want of success, made
ready to depart, when he missed it, and then some suspicion entered his
head as to what had been done with it, and by whom, but he said nothing.
As they walked home, Biorn began to taunt Grettir with having done
nothing all day. He could kill robbers who were unarmed and were drunk,
perhaps asleep, but a bear was too serious an adversary for him.
Grettir said nothing, but as his gaiter thong became broken, he stopped
and stooped to mend it. Thorgils asked if they should wait for him.
Grettir declined.
"Oh," said Biorn, "it is all nonsense. It is a pretence. He means to
have all the glory of fighting the bear alone when we have gone on."
He said the truth, but he had no idea when he spoke that it was the
truth.
Grettir tarried till the party had crossed a hill and was out of sight,
then he turned and went back to the bear's den. He slipped his hand
through the loop at the end of the handle of his short sword that he had
taken from the grave of Karr the Old, and let it hang on his wrist, but
he held the long sword, Jokull's gift, by the pommel. His plan was to
use the long sword if needed, but if the bear came to close quarters he
would throw it down and grasp the short one without having to put his
hand to his girdle for it. Very cautiously he crept along the path.
Bruin saw him, and was now angry and hungry, and came down to meet him.
The bear was somewhat above him; Grettir halted, and the bear stood up
growling on his hind-legs.
At once the long sword was whirled and fell on the right wrist above the
paw, and cut it off. The bear immediately fell down on all-fours; but
the amputated paw was on the side away from the wall of rock, and when
he went down on the stump he was overbalanced, and came down with his
whole weight on Grettir.
Grettir let fall his long sword at once, and with both hands grasped the
brute's ears, and held his head off lest he should get a bite at him.
Grettir, in after years, was wont to say that this was the hardest
tussle he had in his life--it was even worse than anything he had to do
with the rovers. For if the beast had but been able to nip him on the
breast, or shoulder, or face with his great fangs, all would have been
up with him. Moreover, the ears were so smooth that he had to do his
utmost not to let them slip. Grettir had the wit to drag back the
brute's head to the rock, and by so doing the bear could not use his
only uninjured fore-leg, armed with terrible claws, which would have
ripped Grettir's clothes and flesh.
In the struggle the two went over the edge, and for a moment Grettir
thought, as they spun in the air, that he was lost. But the bear was
heavier than the lad, consequently he fell crash on the rocks at the
bottom first, and Grettir on him, breaking Grettir's fall by his great
body. The bear's back was broken.
Then Grettir got up, shook himself, left the bear, went up the path and
found his fur coat torn to tatters, and he put it about him, recovered
also his long sword, and took the cut-off paw of the bear.
He now went back to Thorgils' house, and when he came into the hall
where the fires were blazing, every one laughed to see him in his
tattered coat; but when he gave the paw of the bear to Thorgils the
general merriment exchanged to surprise. Biorn, however, could not
contain himself for vexation, and launched forth some coarse jest that
made Grettir's blood tingle in his veins.
"Do not listen to him," said Thorgils. "You are a brave fellow, and
there are not many your like." Then turning to Biorn, he said,
"Kinsman, I advise and warn you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or
you will come to rue it, and have to be taught better manners."
"Oh, if I am to learn manners from Grettir, that is sending me to a cub
indeed!"
"I want to know," said Grettir, "whether you threw my fur coat into the
den?"
"I am not afraid of saying that I did."
"Will you give me another in its place?"
"I have not the smallest intention of doing charity to beggars."
The braggart knew that Grettir was restraining himself because he did
not wish to quarrel with his host's kinsman, and he took advantage of
his knowledge. But Thorgils was greatly distressed and ashamed, and he
said to Grettir:
"Pay no attention to his words. He has insulted you, and I will pay you
a fine in compensation for his insult, that it may be buried and
forgotten."
That was customary then. When one had hurt another in body or in honour
by blow or foul word, he was bound to pay a sum of money; if he did not
then the man injured was required by the laws of honour to revenge the
injury.
But when Biorn heard this proposal, he shouted out that he would not
suffer the matter to be so compromised; he was not ashamed of his words.
Thorgils drew Grettir aside, and said to him that his kinsman was a
badly-behaved, brutal fellow, but that he hoped Grettir would not take
up the quarrel in his house; and Grettir promised him solemnly that he
would not attempt to take revenge for the rudeness of Biorn so long as
they were both inmates of his house.
"As for what may happen between you later," said Thorgils, "I wash my
hands of responsibility. If Biorn is offensive to those who have never
hurt him, he must take the consequences."
So matters remained; only that Biorn, presuming on his position, became
daily more arrogant, intolerable, and abusive, so that Grettir had to
exercise daily self-restraint to keep his hands off him. And glad he
was when spring came, that he might get away to another part of Norway.
As for Biorn, he went in the summer to England in a ship that belonged
to Thorgils, trading there for Thorgils and for himself. Consequently,
all that summer he and Grettir did not meet.
*CHAPTER IX.*
*THE SLAYING OF BIORN.*
_The Meeting on the Island--Biorn's Death--Thorfin Comes to
Grettir's Aid--Grettir's Life in Danger--Hiarandi's Revenge--A
Doomed Man_
Grettir left Thorgils very good friends, and he went with some merchants
to the north, but when the summer was over he came back south, and
arrived at a little island in the entrance of the Drontheim firth. His
intention was to see Earl Sweyn, and perhaps take service under him; but
if so, things fell out other than he had reckoned. For, as he was in
this island, there came in a large merchant vessel from England, and
Grettir and those with him at once went to see the shipmen, and among
them was Biorn. The ship was, in fact, that of Thorgils, and it was
laden with commodities bought in England, or obtained by exchange for
the wool, and furs, and women's embroidery sent out in the spring by
Thorgils.
Directly Biorn saw Grettir he turned red, and pretended not to recognize
him; but Grettir went to him at once and said:
"Now has come the time when we two can settle our differences."
"Oh," said Biorn, "that is soon done. I don't object to paying a
trifle."
"The time for paying is over," said Grettir. "Thorgils offered an
indemnity for your insolence, and you refused to consent to it."
Then Biorn saw that there was no help for him but that he must fight.
So he girded him for the conflict, and he and Grettir went down on the
sand, and they fought.
The fight did not last long. Grettir's sword cut him that he fell and
died.
When the news reached Thorgils, he got ready, and came by boat as fast
as he could to see the earl at Drontheim. He found the earl very angry,
but he said to him:
"I am a kinsman of the fallen man, and I know that he treated Grettir
with intolerable insolence, and that he refused every compromise. Then
remember what a benefit has been done to the country by Grettir, who
ridded it of the Red Rovers, Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad."
Thorfin also came to Drontheim when he heard of the straits into which
Grettir had come through killing Biorn. The earl called a council on
the matter, and said he would not come to a decision till he had heard
what Biorn's brother Hiarandi had to say on the matter. Hiarandi was a
violent man, and he was very wroth. He would hear of no patching up of
the matter, and he vowed he would not, as he expressed it, "bring his
brother into his purse." As already said, it was customary when a man
had been killed to offer a sum of money to the next of kin, and if he
accepted the money the quarrel was at an end. When we now speak of
"pocketing an injury," reference is made to this same ancient usage, by
which every offence was estimated at so much money, and if the wronged
man took money for the offence committed against him, he was said _to
pocket it_. When the earl went into the matter, and heard how Grettir
had been wronged and outraged by Biorn, he gave his decision that
Grettir had not acted contrary to law, and that Biorn had justly
forfeited his life. Thorfin offered the sum of money which the earl
considered was sufficient to atone to the relations for the death of
Biorn, but Hiarandi refused absolutely to touch it.
Then Thorfin knew that Grettir's life was in danger, for Hiarandi would
certainly try to take it; so he begged his kinsman Arinbiorn to go about
with Grettir, and keep on the look-out against the mischief that
threatened.
Now it fell out one day that Grettir and Arinbiorn were walking down a
street in Drontheim when their way led before a narrow lane opening into
it. They did not see any danger in the way, and were unaware of this
lane. But just as they had passed it a man jumped out from behind, in
the shadow, swinging an axe, and he struck at Grettir between the
shoulder-blades. Fortunately, Arinbiorn had looked round at the lane,
and he saw the man leap out, so he suddenly dragged Grettir forward with
such a jerk that Grettir fell on his knee. This saved his life, for the
axe came on his shoulder-blade, made a gash that cut to his armpit, and
then the axe buried itself in the roadway. Instantly Grettir started to
his feet, turned round, and with his short sword smote in the very nick
of time as the man, who was Hiarandi, was pulling up his axe to cut at
Grettir again. Grettir's sword fell on his upper arm near the shoulder,
and cut it off. Then out rushed some servants of Hiarandi on Arinbiorn
and Grettir, who set their backs against a house-wall and defended
themselves with such valour that they killed or put to flight all who
had assailed them.
Now, this had been a base and cowardly attempt on the life of Grettir,
and Hiarandi richly deserved his fate. But the earl was exceedingly
angry when he heard the news, and he called a council together. Thorfin
and Grettir attended, and the earl angrily charged Grettir with having
committed great violence, and being the cause of the death of Hiarandi
and some of his servants.
Grettir acknowledged this; but showed his wound, and stated how he had
been attacked from behind; how his life had been saved by the
promptitude of Arinbiorn, and how he had but defended himself against
enemies who sought his life.
"I wish you had been killed," said the earl, "and then there would have
been an end to these disorders."
"You would not have a man not raise his hands to save his head?" said
Grettir.
"I see one thing," exclaimed the earl. "Ill luck attends you, and you
are doomed to commit violences wherever you are."
The end of it was that Earl Sweyn said he would not have Grettir to live
in Norway any longer, lest he should be the cause of fresh troubles.
But he remained over the third winter, and next spring sailed for
Iceland, the time of his outlawing being ended.
*CHAPTER X.*
*OF GRETTIR'S RETURN.*
_Iceland Once More--Life's Bitter Lessons--Grettir Pays Audun a
Visit--Some Icelandic Terms--Byres and Sels--A Chief's Hall--The
Return of Audun--Grettir's Second Wrestle with Audun--Bard
Interposes--The Cousins Reconciled_
When Grettir came back to Biarg, he found his father so old and infirm
as to be no more able to stir abroad, and Atli managed the farm for him
along with Illugi, Grettir's youngest brother, now grown up to be a big
boy. Grettir was now aged eighteen, but he looked and was a man.
Illugi was about fifteen, a gentle, pleasant boy. He and the kindly,
careful Atli were as unlike Grettir as well could be; they avoided
quarrels, they had a civil word for every one, and took pains to make
themselves agreeable, whether to guests in their house, or when staying
anywhere, to their hosts. Grettir never troubled himself to be courteous
or to be obliging to anyone. Now that he was back from Norway he was
rather disposed to think much of himself as a man more brave and
audacious than his fellows, for, had he not killed twelve rovers, broken
into a barrow, slain a bear, and been the death of one man in a duel,
and another who had attempted to assassinate him? Atli did not much
like his manner, and cautioned him not to be overbearing whilst at home,
lest he should involve himself in fresh troubles. But words were wasted
on Grettir. He was not the fellow to listen to advice, but one of those
men who must learn the bitter lessons of life by personal experience.
It is so with men always. Some, who are thoughtful, see what God's law
is which is impressed on all society, and listen to what others have
found out as the lessons taught them by their lives, so they are able to
go out equipped against the trials and difficulties of life. But others
will neither look nor listen, and such have to go through every sort of
adversity, till they have learned the great truths of social life, and
perhaps they only acquire them when it is too late to put them in
practice.
It is with laws and courtesies of life as with the three R's. A man
will fare badly who cannot read, write, and cipher. If he learns these
accomplishments as a child, he does well; he is furnished for the
struggle of life, and starts on the same footing as other men; but if as
a child he is morose and indifferent, and refuses to learn, then all
through his life he is met with difficulties, owing to his ignorance,
and he finds that he must learn to read, write, and do sums; and he has
to acquire these in after years with much less ease than he might have
learnt as a child, and after he has lost many chances of getting on
which might have been seized, had he known these things before.
Grettir's temper on his return may be judged by one incident that
happened almost directly. He had not forgotten his struggle on the ice
with his cousin Audun, and he was resolved to have another trial of
strength with him. So he had not been home many days before he rode
over the hill to Audunstead in his best harness, and with a beautiful
saddle on his horse that had been given him by Thorfin. The time was
that of hay, and he saw the field round Audun's farm full of rich grass,
ready to be cut. He took the bridle off his horse and turned it into
Audun's meadow. This was not out of thoughtlessness, but out of
insolence, and was intended to exasperate Audun. In Iceland grass grows
very little, and only fit to be cut for hay round the farms in what is
called the _tun_, where it is richly dressed with stable-dung.
Consequently hay is very scarce and very precious. The grass never
grows much longer than one's fingers, and so even in the tun it is not
plentiful. He knocked at the door of the farm and asked for his cousin,
and was told that Audun had gone to the highland _sel_ to fetch curds,
and would be back later. The _sel_ was a farm on the highland, only
occupied in summer, when the cattle were driven to the moors and hills
to feed on the grass there, and to save that in the lowlands against
winter.
Here a word or two must be said about Icelandic names of places and
people. When Iceland was colonized, those who first settled in the land
and built farms, called the places after their own names in a great many
cases; they called them so-and-so's _stead_, or so-and-so's _by_ or
farm. A _by_ is the Scotch byre, and in Icelandic is _boer_, pronounced
exactly like the Scotch word. Wherever, in the north and east of
England, Norse settlers came, there we find names of places ending in
the same way, and we know that these were farms and dwellings of old
Norse settlers. Thus in Northumberland, Yorkshire, and Lincolnshire,
are plenty of Norse place-names. Near Thirsk is Thirkelby or
Thorkel's-byre, near Ripon is Enderby or Andrew's-byre. Not only so,
but where there are high hills there we find also _sels_, that is
summer-farms, like the Alps to which the cattle are driven in
Switzerland. Next as to the names of people. What is a little puzzling
to remember is the number of persons whose names begin with Thor. Thor,
the god of thunder, was regarded with the highest reverence by the
Icelanders; they thought of him even more than they did of Odin, the
chief god of all, who had one eye, and his one fiery eye was the sun.
Thor was called the Redbeard, and the aurora borealis was thought to be
his waving red-beard in the sky. The thunderbolt they regarded as his
hammer. To show their respect for him, children were named after him:
Thor-grim means Thor's wrath; Thor-kel, Thor's kettle, in which the
sacrificial meat was cooked in offering to Thor; Thor-gil was Thor's boy
or servant; Thor-hall was Thor's flint spear-head, and so on. The
Northumbrian king, St. Osmund, takes his name from the Hand of God, and
the name is the same as Asmund, the father of Grettir. Oswald means the
elect of the god; in Icelandic the name would be Aswald.
When Grettir found that Audun was from home, he went into the hall and
lay down on the bench nearest the door. The hall was dark.
The halls of the Icelandic chiefs were like bodies of churches, and were
divided into a nave with side aisles; and were lighted by windows in a
clere-story that were covered with the skin of the lining of a sheep's
stomach, to let in light and keep out cold, because they had no glass.
In the side aisles were the beds of those who lived in the house, some
with doors and shutters, which could be fastened from within; and a man
in danger of his life would so sleep. He would go to bed, and then
close himself in and lock the shutters, that no one could get at him
when he was asleep. The fires and benches and tables were in the nave,
or middle of the great hall. Over the partitions for the beds were hung
shields and swords and spears, and on grand occasions hangings were put
up all along the sides, hiding the beds and berths in the side aisles.
The arrangement in an Icelandic house at the present day is much the
same, only on a very much reduced scale. The people live and eat and
sleep in the same room, like the saloon-cabin of a ship, with the berths
round the walls.
Audun arrived in the afternoon with a horse that carried curds in skins
on its back; that is to say, skins were made into bottles, as is still
common in Palestine. When he saw that a horse with a saddle on it was
wandering about in his meadow, trampling down the grass and eating it,
he was very vexed; and throwing one bottle of curd over his back, and
hanging another in front on his breast to counterbalance it, he ran into
the house to ask who had done this.
The hall was dusky, and Audun's eyes were accustomed to the bright
summer-light. As he entered Grettir put out his foot; Audun did not see
it, and stumbled over it, fell on the skin of curds and burst it. Then
he jumped up, very angry, and asked who had played him this scurvy
trick. Grettir named himself, and said he had come over about that
matter of the wrestle on the ice. Audun, still very irate, all at once
stooped, picked up the burst skin, and dashed it in Grettir's face,
smothering him with curds. Then he threw down the other curd-bottle,
and began to wrestle with Grettir. They swung up and down the hall,
kicking over the benches, now upon the floor, then on the stone-paved
fire-hearth in the midst; then they crashed against the walls and
pillars of the bed-chambers, and as they did so the shields and weapons
hung over them clashed like bells. Some frightened servant-maids came
in, and ran out again in alarm, calling for aid.
Audun felt now that Grettir had outgrown him in strength, but he would
not give in; then they slipped on the curd and both fell, parted for a
moment, rose, and flew at each other once more. Again, up and down,
banging, stumbling, writhing in each other's arms, twisting legs round
each other, to try to trip each other up, and ever Grettir bearing Audun
backwards, but never wholly mastering him. Audun could not trust his
cousin, for though they were akin, and though he had not really done him
an injury, there was no telling to what a pitch Grettir's blood might
mount and blind him; so as they wrestled, Audun took care to twist the
short sword out of Grettir's belt and throw it away. As, to do this, he
had to disengage his hand from Grettir's shoulder, he lost an advantage.
Grettir managed to trip him, and throw him flat on his back.
At that moment, fortunately, a man, big, wearing a red kirtle, and in
full harness, entered the hall and asked what was the meaning of the
noise and fight? As he did not receive an immediate answer, he came to
the rescue of Audun, and drew Grettir from him.
"We are only in play with each other," said Grettir.
"Rather rough play," said the man, "and likely to end in tears rather
than laughter."
"Who are you that interfere?" asked Grettir.
"My name is Bard."
Then Audun scrambled to his feet.
"What is the reason of this rough play?" asked Bard.
Then Grettir answered, by singing:
"Prithee, Audun, will you say
How, upon the ice one day,
You to throttle did essay?
Now, for that I this have done,
On Audun honour I have won;
Curds and wrestle make good fun."
"Oh, I see," said Bard; "fighting out an old grudge. I have nothing to
say against that. Now, shake hands, and be loving cousins again."
Audun held out his hand, and Grettir agreed to let the matter end thus.
But he was dissatisfied, and ever after bore Bard a grudge. However, he
never again wrestled with Audun, and remained on good terms with him.
*CHAPTER XI.*
*THE HORSE-FIGHT.*
_Atli's Roan--The Coming Fight--Unfair Play--Grettir
Retaliation--Smouldering Fire_
One of the rude and cruel sports that amused the Icelanders in summer
time was horse-fighting. A smooth piece of turf was chosen, and was
staked round. Into this inclosure two or sometimes more horses were
introduced, and a man attended each, who urged on his own horse, armed
with a goad. By means of these goads the horses were stung to madness,
and attacked each other, biting each other savagely. Now, Atli had a
beautiful roan, with a black mane, which he and his old father were very
proud of. Lower down the valley, near the sea, was a farm called Mais,
in which lived a bonder named Kormak, and his brother; they had in their
house a man called Odd the Foundling, a sly, captious fellow, who, like
Grettir, made verses; but his verses were not generally thought to be so
good as those of Grettir. On the opposite side of the river is a
hot-spring; it is still hot, but not so hot as it was in those days,
when it boiled up and poured forth a cloud of steam, and ran in a
scalding rill down to the river. There was a convenient level place
near the river for a horse-fight, and it stood above the water on one
side rather steeply, so that it needed only fencing on three sides.
Kormak had a brown horse that fought well, and it was resolved that
autumn to have a fight between the horse of Kormak and the roan of Atli.
Odd was to goad on Kormak's brown, and Grettir offered himself to his
brother to run with the roan. Atli did not much like the proposal, as
he feared Grettir's temper; but he could not well decline his offer, so
he said, "I will consent, brother; only I pray you, be peaceable, for we
have to do with overbearing men, and it will be very unfortunate if a
broil should come of this."
"If they begin, I shall not run away," said Grettir.
"Not if they begin; but be very careful not to provoke a quarrel."
"Quarrels come and are not made," said Grettir.
"That I do not hold," answered Atli.
The day of the horse-fight arrived, and the horses were led to the place
of contest. They had been fed up and groomed for the occasion, and each
had a band round his middle of colour, by which he who went with the
horse could hold, and the goad of each was tied with a tuft of feathers
at the head, stained the same colour as the belt about the horse.
The two horses were introduced within the inclosure, and were soon
goaded into anger, and began to plunge, and snort, and snap at each
other. The by-standers outside the railing cheered and shouted, and the
horses seemed to understand that they were to do their best; so they
pranced about each other, struck at each other, and tried to get round
each other so as to bite the flank. At one moment the roan bit the side
of the brown, and held. Odd ran his goad into the horse of Grettir to
make it let go;--this was against the rules; he did it to save his own
horse from a terrible wound. Grettir saw what he did, but he said
nothing. Now the horses bore towards the river, and were rearing and
plunging close to the edge, and the two men had much ado to hold on.
Then Odd took the opportunity when Grettir's back was turned to drive at
him with his goad between the shoulders, where was the great scar still
red, and only just fully healed, that he had received from the axe of
Hiarandi. It was a cruel blow, and this also was against all rule of
fair play.
At that moment the roan reared, and instantly Grettir ran under him, and
struck Odd with such a blow that he reeled back towards the water edge,
and in so doing dragged the brown horse he was holding over the edge,
and both went down into the water together. The river was very full
with the melted snows, and Odd was brought ashore with difficulty. It
was found that three of his ribs were broken; but whether with the blow
dealt by Grettir, or by his fall on the rock, or by the hoof of the
horse as it fell and struggled in the river, cannot be said; but the
party of Kormak, of course, charged Grettir with having broken Odd's
ribs with his stick, and they flew to arms, and threatened the party
from Biarg. However, the people of the nearest vales and firths
interfered, and no bloodshed ensued. But the men of Mais and of Biarg
separated bearing each other much ill-will, each charging the other with
having broken the laws of the sport.
Atli did not say what he felt, he was greatly annoyed; but Grettir was
less careful of his words, he said that the matter was by no means
ended, and that he hoped there would be a meeting between the men of
Mais and the men of Biarg, and then--it would not be a fight of horses,
but of men; not a biting of horses, but of sharp blades.
*CHAPTER XII.*
*OF THE FIGHT AT THE NECK.*
_The Desolate Moor--Grettir challenges Kormak--Oxmain comes on
the Scene--Slow-coach taunts Grettir--Grettir's Vexation_
The next fiord on the west of that into which the river that flowed past
Biarg poured was called the Ramsfirth, and at the head of it lived
Grettir's married sister.
In the following summer, that is in 1014, Grettir paid his sister a
visit; he had with him two servant-men from Biarg, and he spent three
days and nights at his sister's. Whilst there, news reached him that
Kormak, who had been away from Mais for a week or two, was on his road
home, and who was now staying at a house called Tongue. Grettir at once
made ready to depart, and his brother-in-law sent two men with him, for
it was not safe that Grettir should have only two churls with him, as
there was ill blood between him and Kormak about that affair of the
horse-fight.
A high, long shoulder of desolate moor lies between the Ramsfirth and
the Westriver-dale, in which is a confluent of the river that flows past
Biarg. This shoulder rises to the north into a great hump, called
Burfell, and on the saddle is a little lake. A very fine view is
obtained from this shoulder of moor over the northern immense bay of
Hunafloi, towards the glaciers and mountains of that curious excrescence
of land that lies on the north-west of Iceland. I know exactly the road
taken by Grettir on this occasion, for I have ridden over it. Along the
top of this shoulder the rocks are scraped by glaciers, that must at one
time have occupied the whole centre of the island, and have slowly
slidden down into the firths on all sides. Here, what is curious is,
that the rocks are furrowed, just as if carved with a graving tool, in
lines from south to north, showing the direction from which the glaciers
slipped down. Now, on the slope of this bit of upland is a great stone
poised on a point, which I have seen. Grettir came to this stone, and
spent a long time in trying to upset it. It is called Grettir's-heave
to this day. The men who were with him rather wondered at him why he
wasted time over this, instead of pushing on. But his sharp eye had
noticed the party of Kormak leaving Tongue, and he was bent on an
encounter. He thought that if Odd had seen him going over the hill he
would make a lampoon about him running away from his sister's house the
moment he heard that danger was threatening. So he determined to tarry
till Kormak came up and fight him. He had not long to wait, for
presently over the top of the hill came Kormak with Odd and some others.
Grettir at once rode to meet them, and said, "Now we have our weapons on
both sides, let us fight like men of good birth, and not with sticks as
churls."
Then Kormak turned to his men and bade them accept the challenge and
fight.
Accordingly they ran at one another and fought. Grettir bade his two
serving-men stand behind his back and defend that, and he, sweeping his
longsword from left to right, went forward against Kormak. Thus they
fought for a while, and some were wounded on both sides.
Now it so happened that at a rich farm in the Ramsfirth-dale lived a
well-to-do, and very strong man, called Thorbiorn--that is, Thor's
Bear--nicknamed Oxmain. He had ridden that day over Burfell-heath, with
a party, and was now returning. As he came along he heard shouts and the
clashing of arms, so he quickened his pace, and presently came in sight
of the fighters. He at once ordered his men to dash in between the
combatants. But by this time the passions of those engaged were so
furious that they would not be separated. Grettir sweeping his
long-sword about him strode forward, and the men of Kormak fell back
before him. Down went two of those who were with Kormak, and one servant
of Atli, Grettir's brother, was killed.
[Illustration: GRETTIR CHALLENGES KORMAK AND HIS PARTY.]
Then Thorbiorn Oxmain raised his great voice and roared out, that he and
his party would take sides against the first man who dealt another blow.
Grettir saw that it would hardly do if Thorbiorn Oxmain brought all his
force against him, so he gave up the battle; but they did not part till
every one of those engaged was wounded, and two were killed on one side,
and one on the other. Grettir was ill pleased that the affray had ended
in this manner, and he felt resentment against Oxmain for his
interference. Unfortunately, Oxmain's brother, who went by the name of
the Slow-coach, made fun of the matter, and laughed about Grettir
sneaking away from the fight directly he saw that he was getting the
worst of it. Whatever he said was reported at Biarg, and, as may well
be imagined, did not improve Grettir's temper, or liking for Oxmain and
Slow-coach. Nothing further occurred between him and Kormak, probably
he and Kormak were content with the trial of strength that had taken
place, and were disinclined to renew a profitless contest.
Atli took no notice of the loss of his house-churl; he desired peace,
and not a stirring afresh of the fires of discord. To his peaceable
behaviour it was doubtless due that the quarrel with Kormak came to an
end. But the vexation felt by Grettir against Oxmain for his
meddlesomeness, and against Slow-coach for his gibes, rankled in his
breast.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*HOW GRETTIR AND AUDUN MADE FRIENDS.*
_Audun's Pedigree--His relation to Grettir--Grettir's-heaves--In
Willowdale--The Place called Tongue--A very strange Tale_
Grettir remained through the autumn at Biarg, after the skirmish at the
Neck, till September, and then he thought he would ride away east and
see Audun again, with whom he had had that little ruffle that was almost
a quarrel, and which was fortunately interrupted by the entrance of
Bard. Audun was a cousin, though not a near one, and Grettir had no
desire that any bad blood should exist between kinsfolk. Audun belonged
to what was called the Madpate family; for it had had in it at least two
who had been so odd in their ways that folk said they were not quite
right in their minds. The relationship will easily be understood by a
look at the pedigree. It will be remembered that old Onund Treefoot,
who had settled in Iceland, had to wife secondly Thordis, an Icelandic
woman, and his son by her was Thorgrim Grizzlepate, and this Thorgrim
bought the estate and house of Biarg about the year 935. Onund Treefoot
died in or about 920, and then his widow Thordis married again a man
called Audun Skokull, and they had a son who was called Asgeir, who
settled in Willowdale, and either went off his head or proved so queer
in his ways that folks called him Madpate. This Madpate married and had
a son Audun, and a daughter Thurid who married away west into a very
good family; and she had a son called Thorstein Kuggson, of whom we
shall hear more presently. Audun of Willowdale's son was Madpate the
Second, and the lad Audun who wrestled with Grettir and burst the bottle
of curds was the son of this Madpate the Second. Consequently the
relationship to Grettir was through Grettir's great-grandmother, and
Audun belonged to a generation younger than that of Grettir, because
Grettir was the son of Asmund's old age. Moreover, Asmund's father
Thorgrim had married somewhat late in life, whereas all the Madpate
family had dashed into marriage at a very early age. Thus it came about
that Grettir's great-grandmother was Audun's great-great-grandmother,
and that, nevertheless, Audun was somewhat older than Grettir.
Grettir rode straight up over the hill behind his house. Now this hill
like the Neck, already described, is rather curious, for on it are a
number of rocks that have been deposited by glaciers, and not only so,
but they have been dragged along by ice, scratching the rocks over which
they were driven forward, and so these beds of rock are rubbed and
scored with lines made by the stones forced over them by ice. Above
Biarg there is one large stone that has scratched a deep furrow in the
bed of rock and then has stopped at the end of the furrow it had itself
scored. This remarkable phenomenon tells us of a time when the whole of
the centre of Iceland was covered with glaciers, like the centre of
Greenland now. These glaciers slided down the slopes of the hills, and
were thrust along to the sea, where they broke off and floated away as
icebergs.
Nowadays folk in Iceland do not understand these odd stones perched in
queer places, which were deposited by the ancient glaciers, and they
call them Grettir-taks or Grettir's-heaves. So the farmer at Biarg told
me that the curious stone at the end of the furrow in the bed of rock on
top of the hill was a Grettir-tak; it had been rubbed along the rock and
left where it stands by Grettir. But I knew better. I knew that it was
put there by an ancient glacier ages before Grettir was born, and before
Iceland was discovered by the Norsemen. I have no doubt that in
Grettir's time this stone was said to have been put there by some troll.
Afterwards, when people ceased to believe in trolls, they said it was
put there by Grettir.
Grettir's ride led him by a pretty little blue lake that lies folded in
between high hills and has a stream flowing from it into a very large
lake near Hop. But he did not follow the stream down; he crossed
another hill, not very steep and high, and reached his cousin's house at
Audun stead in Willowdale. Now this valley took its name from the woods
of willows that grew in it when first settled, but at the present day
none remain; all have in course of time been burnt for fuel, and except
for scanty grass the Willowdale is very dreary-looking. We may be sure
that Iceland presented a much more smiling and green appearance eight
hundred or a thousand years ago than it does at present.
When Grettir came to Willowdale, Audun received him in a friendly
manner, and Grettir made him a present of a handsome axe he had. He
remained with him some little while, and they talked over old tales of
Onund Treefoot and his doings, and every shadow of rivalry and anger
disappeared, so that they parted at length in the best of tempers and as
true and affectionate cousins.
Audun would have desired to keep Grettir there longer, but Grettir would
not stay. He desired to get on to the head of Waterdale, where lived an
uncle of his called Jokull, his mother's brother, at a place called
Tongue.
So he rode away over the moor, and reached Tongue. Here a stream comes
rushing through a gorge in a series of waterfalls, and meets another
stream that comes down a valley called the Valley of Shadows further
east.
Tongue is so called because it lies on a grassy slope exactly in the
tongue of land between these two streams. There is now a good farm
there and a church, and there I stayed a few days. At the back of
Tongue the hill rises rapidly to a fell called Tongue-heath. This hill
was covered with snow when Grettir arrived. This uncle Jokull was glad
to see him.
He was a rough and violent man, very big and strong; and it was clear to
everyone that his nephew took after his mother's family more than his
father's, for there was a strong likeness both in build and face and in
character between Jokull and Grettir.
He received Grettir heartily in his rough, blunt way, and bade him stay
there as long as he liked. Jokull had been a seafaring man, and had made
much by his merchant trips. He would probably have been a richer and
more respected man had he not been so violent and overbearing and ready
to pick quarrels.
Now Grettir had not been at Tongue three days before he heard a very
strange tale. Jokull's mouth was full of it, and with good reason, for
the events had taken place not an hour's ride distant. It was a tale
about the nearest farm in the Valley of Shadows, a farm called
Thorhall's-stead, which was reported to be haunted; and so serious had
affairs become there that no servants would remain, and the farmer and
his family had been driven from house and home by the hauntings last
winter, and had come and lodged with Jokull at Tongue, and he had
entertained them for some two or three months. Now this was not a case
of mere fancy and fantastic fear. It was something very real and very
marvellous. But it is a long story, and must be consigned to another
chapter.
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*THE VALE OF SHADOWS.*
_A Turning-point in Grettir's Life--The Farm in the Valley--The
haunted Sheep-walks--A strange-looking Fellow--"Here is my
Hand"--Glam keeps Faith--Glam is missing--Following the Red
Track--The Ghost of Glam--Glam's Successor--Thorgaut is
Missing--From Bad to Worse--Fate of the old
Serving-man--Thorhall's Perplexity--Grettir offers Aid_
We have come now to an incident which formed a turning-point in
Grettir's life. It is a very mysterious and inexplicable story, not one
that can be put aside as we have that of his fight in the tomb with Karr
the Old. This is a story even more gruesome. It relates to an event
that so shook Grettir's nerves that he never after could endure to be
alone in the dark, and would risk all kinds of dangers to escape
solitude. How much of truth lies under this strange narrative we cannot
now say, but that something really did take place is certain from the
effect it had on Grettir ever after.
The richest valley for grass in all this quarter of Iceland, and the
most peopled, is the Waterdale. On the east rises a mountain ridge of
precipitous basaltic cliffs, down which leap waterfalls from the snows
above. The river that flows through this valley is fed by two main
streams that unite at the farm called Tongue. The stream on the east
rises a long way inland in a mass of lava, and flows through a valley so
narrow and so gloomy that it goes by the name of the Valley of Shadows.
The high ranges of moor and waste to the south shut off the southern
sun, and the lofty banks of mountain to east and west so close it in
that it gets no sun morning or evening.
A little way up this valley--not far, and not where it is most
gloomy--are now the scanty ruins of a farm called Thorhall's-stead.
Above this the valley so contracts and the hills are so steep that it is
only with great difficulty that a horse can be led along. This I know
very well; for in crossing an avalanche slide my horse and I were almost
precipitated into the torrent below. Further up the valley stands a
tongue of high land with a waterfall on one side and the ravine on the
other, and here at one time some robbers had their fortress who were the
terror of the neighbourhood. No trace of their fortress remains at
present, but it was to find this place that I explored the valley.
In the farm that is now but a heap of ruins lived a bonder named
Thorhall and his wife. He was not a man of much consideration in the
district, for he was planted on cold, poor land, and his wealth was but
small. Moreover, he had no servants; and the reason was that his
sheep-walks were haunted.
Not a herdsman would remain with him. He offered high wages, he
threatened, he entreated, all in vain. One shepherd after another left
his service, and things came to such a pass that he determined to have
the advice of the law-man or chief judge at the next annual assize.
He saddled his horses and rode to Thingvalla. Skapti was the name of the
judge then, a man with a long head, and deemed the best of men for
giving counsel. Thorhall told him his trouble.
"I can help you," said Skapti. "There is a shepherd who has been with
me, a rude, strange man, but afraid of neither man nor hobgoblin, and
strong as a bull; but he is not very clear in his intellect."
"That does not matter," said Thorhall, "so long as he can mind sheep."
"You may trust him for that," said Skapti. "He is a Swede, and his name
is Glam."
Towards the end of the assize two gray horses belonging to Thorhall
slipped their hobbles and strayed; so, as he had no serving-man, he went
after them himself, and on his way met a strange-looking fellow, driving
before him an ass laden with faggots. The man was tall and stalwart;
his face attracted Torhall's attention, for the eyes were ashen gray and
staring. The powerful jaw was furnished with white protruding teeth,
and about his low brow hung bunches of coarse wolf-gray hair.
"Pray, what are you called?" asked Thorhall, for he suspected that this
was the man Skapti had spoken about.
"Glam, at your service."
"Do you like your present duties--wood-cutting?" asked the farmer.
"No, I do not. I am properly a shepherd."
"Then, will you come with me? Skapti has spoken of you and offered you
to me."
"What are the drawbacks to your service?" asked Glam cautiously.
"None, save that my sheep-walks are haunted."
"Oh! is that all? Ghosts won't scare me. Here is my hand. I will come
to you before winter."
They separated, and soon after the farmer found his horses; they had got
into a little wood, and were nibbling the willow tops. He went home,
having thanked Skapti.
Summer passed, then autumn, and nothing further was heard of Glam. The
winter storms began to bluster up the valley from the cold Polar Sea,
driving the flying snowflakes and heaping them in drifts at every turn
of the vale. Ice formed in the shallows of the river, and the streams
which in summer trickled down the sides were now turned to icicles. I
was there the very end of June, and then the whole of the mountain flank
to the west was covered with frozen streams spread like a net of icicle
over the black and red striped bare rock.
One gusty night a violent blow at the door startled all in the farm. In
another moment Glam, tall and wild, stood in the hall glowering out of
his gray staring eyes, his hair matted with frost, his teeth rattling
and snapping with cold, his face blood-red in the glare of the fire that
glowed in the centre of the hall.
He was well received by Thorhall, but the housewife did not like the
man's looks, and did not welcome him with much heartiness. Time passed,
and the shepherd was on the moors every day with the flock; his loud and
deep-toned voice was often borne down on the wind as he shouted to the
sheep, driving them to fold. His presence always produced a chill in
the house, and when he spoke it sent a thrill through the women, who did
not like him.
Christmas-eve was raw and windy; masses of gray vapour rolled up from
the Arctic Ocean, and hung in piles about the mountain tops. Now and
then a scud of frozen fog, covering bar and beam with feathery
hoar-frost, swept up the glen. As the day declined snow began to fall
in large flakes.
When the wind lulled there could be heard the shout of Glam high up on
the hillside. Darkness closed in, and with the darkness the snow fell
thicker. There was a church then at Thorhall's farm; there is none there
now, since the valley has been abandoned from its cold and ill name.
The lights were kindled in the church, and every snowflake as it sailed
down past the open door burned like a golden feather in the light.
When the service was over, and the farmer and his party returned to the
house, Glam had not come home. This was strange; as he could not live
abroad in the cold, and the sheep would also require shelter. Thorhall
was uneasy and proposed a search, but no one would go with him; and no
wonder, it was not a night for a dog to be out in, and the tracks would
all be buried in snow. So the family sat up all night listening,
trembling and anxious.
Day broke at last faintly in the south over the great white masses of
mountains. Now a party was formed to search for the missing man. A
sharp climb brought them to the top of the moor above Tongue. Here and
there a sheep was found shivering under a rock or half buried in a
snowdrift, but of Glam--not a sign.
Presently the whole party was called together about a spot on the
hilltop where the snow was trampled and kicked about, and it was clear
that some desperate struggle had taken place there. There the snow was
also dabbled with frozen blood. A red track led further up the mountain
side, and the searchers were following it when a boy uttered a shriek of
fear. In looking behind a rock he had come on the corpse of the
shepherd lying on its back with the arms extended. The body was taken
up and carried to the edge of the gorge, and was there buried under a
pile of stones, heaped over it to the height of about six feet. _How_
Glam had died, _by whom_ killed, no one knew, nor could they make a
guess.
Two nights after this one of the thralls who had gone for the cows burst
into the hall with a face blank from terror; he staggered to a seat and
fainted. On recovering his senses, in a broken voice he assured those
who were round him that he had seen Glam walking past him, with huge
strides, as he left the stable door. The shepherd had turned his head
and looked at him fixedly from his great gray staring eyes. On the
following day a stable lad was found in a fit under a wall, and he never
after recovered his senses. It was thought he must have seen something
that had scared him. Next, some of the women, declared that they had
seen Glam looking in on them through a window of the dairy. In the dusk
Thorhall himself met the dead man, who stood and glowered at him, but
made no attempt to injure his master, and uttered not a word. The
haunting did not end thus. Nightly a heavy tread was heard round the
house, and a hand groping along the walls, and sometimes a hand came in
at the windows, a great coarse hand, that in the red light from the fire
seemed as though steeped in blood.
When the spring came round the disturbances lessened, and as the sun
obtained full power, ceased altogether.
During the course of the summer a Norwegian vessel came into the fiord;
Thorhall went on board and found there a man named Thorgaut, who had
come out in search of work. Thorhall engaged him as a shepherd, but not
without honestly telling him his trouble, and what there was uncanny
about his sheep-walks, and how Glam had fared. The man did not regard
this, he laughed, and promised to be with Thorhall at the appointed
season.
Accordingly he arrived in autumn, and he soon established himself as a
favourite in the house; he romped with the children, helped his
fellow-servants, and was as much liked as his predecessor had been
detested. He was such a merry careless fellow that he did not think
anything of the risks that lay before him, and joked about them.
When winter set in strange sights and sounds began to alarm the folk at
the farm, but Thorgaut was not troubled; he slept too soundly at night
to be disturbed by the heavy tread round the house.
On the day before Yule, as was his wont, Thorgaut drove out the sheep to
pasture. Thorhall was uneasy. He said to him: "I pray you be careful,
and do not go near the barrow under which Glam was laid."
"Don't fear for me," laughed Thorgaut, "I shall be back in time for
supper, and shall attend you to church."
Night settled in, but no Thorgaut arrived. There was little mirth at
table when the supper was brought in. All were anxious and fearful.
The wind was cold and wetting. Blocks of ice were driving about in the
bay, grinding against each other, and the sound could be heard far up
the valley. Aloft, the aurora flames were lighting up the heavens with
an arch of fire. Again this Christmas night the dwellers in the farm
sat up and did not go to bed, waiting for the return of Thorgaut, but he
did not arrive.
Next morning he was sought, and was found lying dead across the barrow
of Glam, with his spine and one leg and one arm broken. He was brought
home and laid in the churchyard.
Matters now rapidly became worse. Outbuildings were broken into of a
night, and their woodwork was rent and shattered; the house door was
violently shaken, and great pieces of it were torn away; the gables of
the house were also pulled furiously to and fro.
Now it fell out that one morning the only man who remained in the
service of the family went out early. Not another servant dared to
remain in the place, and this man remained because he had been with
Thorhall and with his father, and he could not make up his mind to
desert his master in his need. About an hour after he had gone out
Thorhall's wife took her milking cans and went to the cow-house that she
might milk the cows, as she had now not a maid in the house, and had to
do everything herself. On reaching the door of the cow-house she heard
a terrible sound from within, the bellowing of the cattle, and the deep
bell-notes of an unearthly voice. She was so frightened that she
dropped her pails and ran back to the house and called her husband.
Thorhall was in bed, but he rose instantly, caught up a weapon, and
hastened to the cow-house.
On opening the door he found all the cattle loose and goring each other.
Slung across the stone that separated their stalls was the old
serving-man, perfectly dead, with his back broken. He had, apparently,
been tossed by the cows, and had fallen on this stone backwards.
Neither Thorhall nor his wife explained his death in this way; they
thought that Glam must have been there, have driven the cattle wild, and
that just as he had broken the back of Thorgaut, so had he now broken
that of the poor old serving-man.
It was impossible for the bonder to remain longer in that place; he and
his wife therefore removed down to Tongue, which lies at the junction of
the two rivers, and there things were quiet. There he was hospitably
received by Jokull. Thorhall was able to persuade some of his runaway
servants to come back to him, but no man all that winter would go near
the moor where was the barrow of the shepherd Glam.
Not till the summer returned, and the sun had dispelled the darkness,
did Thorhall venture back to the Vale of Shadows. In the meanwhile his
daughter's health had given way under the repeated alarms of the winter;
she became paler every day; with the autumn flowers she faded, and was
laid in the churchyard before the first snowflakes fell. What was
Thorhall to do through the winter? He knew that it was not possible for
him to secure servants if he remained on his own farm; besides, he did
not know what loss might come to his stock. Then, he could not spend
the whole winter at Tongue, for that was another bonder's house, and
though the farmer there had kindly received him and entertained him for
three months the winter before, he could not ask him to give him
houseroom to himself, his cattle, and servants for a whole long winter.
So he was in the greatest possible perplexity what to do. Help came to
him from an unexpected quarter.
Grettir had heard the story of the hauntings, and he rode to Thorhall's
farm and asked if he might be accommodated there for the night. He said
that it was his great desire to encounter Glam.
Thorhall was surprised, but not exactly pleased, for he thought that the
family at Biarg would attribute the wrong to him were anything to happen
to Grettir.
Grettir put his horse into the stable, and retired for the night to one
of the beds in the hall and slept soundly.
*CHAPTER XV.*
*HOW GRETTIR FOUGHT WITH GLAM.*
_Grettir awaits Glam--The Sound of Feet--Glam breaks into the
Hall--A Strange Figure--Grettir seizes Glam--Grettir's Last
Chance--Glam's Curse--The End of Glam--Was it True?_
Next morning Grettir went with Thorhall to the stable for his horse.
The strong wooden door was shivered and driven in. They stepped across
it; Grettir called to his horse, but there was no responsive whinny.
Grettir dashed into the stall and found his horse dead; its neck was
broken.
"Now," said Thorhall, "I will give you a horse in exchange for that you
have lost. You had better ride home to Biarg at once."
"Not at all. My horse has been killed, and I must avenge it." So
Grettir remained.
Night set in. Grettir ate a hearty supper, and was right merry. But
not so Thorhall, who had his misgivings. At bed-time the latter crept
into a locked bedstead beside the hall; but Grettir said he would not go
into a bed, he would lie by the fire in the hall. So he wrapped himself
up in a long fur cloak and flung himself on a bench, with his feet
against the posts of the high seat. The fur cloak was over his head,
and he kept an opening through which he could look out.
There was a fire burning on the hearth, a smouldering heap of glowing
embers, and by the red light Grettir looked up at the rafters of the
blackened roof. The smoke escaped by a _louvre_ in the middle. The wind
whistled mournfully. The windows high up were covered with parchment,
and admitted now and then a sickly yellow glare from the full moon,
which, however, shone in through the smoke hole, silvering the rising
smoke. A dog began to bark, then bay at the moon. Then the cat, which
had been sitting demurely watching the fire, stood up with raised back
and bristling tail, and darted behind some chests. The hall-door was in
a sad plight. It had been so torn by Glam that it had to be patched up
with wattles. Soothingly the river prattled over its shingly bed as it
swept round the knoll on which stood the farm. Grettir heard the
breathing of the sleeping women in the adjoining chamber, and the sigh
of the housewife as she turned in her bed.
Then suddenly he heard something that shook all the sleep out of him,
had any been stealing over his eyes. He heard a heavy tread, beneath
which the snow crackled. Every footfall went straight to Grettir's
heart. A crash on the turf overhead. The strange visitant had scrambled
on the roof, and was walking over that. The roofs of the houses in
Iceland are of turf. For a moment the chimney gap was completely
darkened--the monster was looking down it--the flash of the red fire
illumined the horrible face with its lack-lustre eyes. Then the moon
shone in again, and the heavy tramp of Glam was heard as he walked to
the other end of the hall. A thud--he had leaped down.
Then Grettir heard his steps passing to the back of the house, then the
snapping of wood showed that Glam was destroying some of the outhouse
doors. Presently the tread was heard again approaching the house, and
this time the main entrance. Grettir thought he could distinguish a
pair of great hands thrust in over the broken door. In another moment
he heard a loud snap--a long plank had been torn out of place, and the
light of the moon shone in where the gap had been made. Then Glam began
to unrip the wattles.
There was a cross-beam to the door, acting as bolt. Against the gray
light Grettir saw a huge black arm thrust in trying to remove the bar.
It was done, and then all the broken door was driven in and went down on
the floor in shivers. Now Grettir could see a tall dark figure, almost
naked, with wild locks of hair about the head standing in the doorway.
That was but for a minute, and then Glam came in stealthily; he entered
the hall and was illumined by the firelight. The figure Grettir now saw
was unlike anything he had seen before. A few rags hung from the
shoulders and waist, the long wolf-gray hair was matted. The eyes were
staring and strange. Grettir could hear Thorhall within his locked bed
trembling and breathing fast.
Presently Glam's eyes rested on the shaggy bundle by the high seat. He
stepped towards it, and Grettir felt him groping about him. Then Glam
laid hold of one end of the fur cloak and began to pull at it. The cloak
did not come away. Another jerk. Grettir kept his feet firmly pressed
against the posts, so that the fur was not pulled away. Glam seemed
puzzled; he went to the other end of the bundle and began to pull at
that. Grettir held to the bench, so that he was not moved himself, but
the fur cloak was torn in half, and the strange visitant staggered back
holding the portion in his hand wonderingly before his eyes. Before he
could recover from his surprise, Grettir started to his feet, bent his
body, flung his arms round Glam, and driving his head into the breast of
the visitor, tried to bend him backward and so snap his spine. This was
in vain, the cold hands grasped Grettir's arms and tore them from their
hold. Grettir clasped them again about his body, and then Glam threw his
also round Grettir, and they began to wrestle. Grettir saw that Glam
was trying to drag him to the door, and he was sure that if he were got
outside he would be at a disadvantage, and Glam would break his back.
He therefore made a desperate effort not to be drawn forth. He clung to
benches and posts, but the posts gave way, and the benches were torn
from their places.
At each moment he was being dragged nearer to the door. Sharply
twisting himself loose, Grettir flung his arms round a beam of the roof,
for the hall was low. He was dragged off his feet at once. Glam
clenched him about the waist, and tore at him to get him loose. Every
tendon in Grettir's breast was strained; still he held on. The nails of
Glam cut into his side like knives, then his hands gave way. He could
endure the strain no longer, and Glam drew him towards the doorway, in
so doing trampling over the broken fragments of the door, and the
wattles that lay about. Grettir knew that the last chance was come for
saving himself. Here, in the hall, he could hold to posts and beams,
and so make some resistance; but outside he would have nothing to cling
to, and strong though he was, his strength did not equal that of his
opponent.
Now the door-posts were of stone, and the beam that had served as bolt
went across the door, slid into a hollow on one side cut in the
door-post, and was pulled across and fitted into another hollow in the
other post. As the wrestlers neared the opening, Grettir planted both
his feet against the stone posts, one against each, and put his arms
round Glam. He had the enemy now at an advantage; but then, he merely
held him, and could not hold him so for ever. He called to Thorhall,
but Thorhall was too greatly frightened to leave his place of refuge.
"Now," thought Grettir, "if I can but break his back!" Then drawing Glam
to him by the middle, he put his head beneath the chin of his opponent
and forced back the head. If he could only drive the head far enough
back he would break his neck.
At that moment one or both of the door-posts gave way; down crashed the
gable-trees, ripping beams and rafters from their places, frozen clods
of turf rattled from the roof and thumped into the snow.
Glam fell on his back outside the door, and Grettir on top of him. The
moon was, as I said before, at her full; large white clouds chased each
other across the sky. Grettir's strength was failing him, his hands
quivered in the snow, and he knew that he could not support himself from
dropping flat on the mysterious and dreadful visitant, eye to eye, lip
to lip.
Then Glam said: "You have done ill matching yourself with me; now know
that never shall you be stronger than you are to-day, and that, to your
dying day, whenever you are in the dark you will see my eyes staring at
you, so that for very horror you will not dare to be alone."
At this moment Grettir saw his short sword in the snow, it had slipped
from his belt as he fell. He put out his hand at once, clutched the
handle, and with a blow cut off Glam's head, and at once laid it beside
his thigh.
Thorhall came out at this juncture, his face blanched; but when he saw
how the fray had ended, he joyfully assisted Grettir to roll the dead
man to the top of a pile of faggots that had been collected for winter
fuel. Fire was applied, and soon far down the Waterdale the flames of
the pyre startled folks, and made them wonder what new horror was being
enacted in the Vale of Shadows.
Next day the charred bones were conveyed a long way--some hours'
ride--into the great desert in the interior, and in one of the most
lonely spots there a cairn or pile of stones was heaped over them. I
have seen this mound, which is still pointed out as that under which the
redoubted Glam lies.
And now we may well ask, what truth is there in the story? That there
is a basis of truth can hardly be denied. The facts have been
embellished, worked up, but not invented. The only probable explanation
of the story is this.
As already said, further up the valley, in a spot difficult to be
reached, stood the old fortress of some robbers, with many caves in the
sandstone about it very convenient for shelter. Now, it is not
improbable that some madman may have taken refuge in this safe retreat,
and may have come out at night in search of food, and carried off the
sheep of Thorhall. It may be that Glam caught him attempting to steal a
sheep, and fought with him, and was killed, and that in like manner
Thorgaut was killed. Then when people saw a great wild man wandering
about they thought it was Glam, whereas it was the man who had haunted
the region before Glam came there, and had killed Glam. This is the
simplest and easiest explanation of this wild and fearful tale.
*CHAPTER XVI.*
*HOW GRETTIR SAILED TO NORWAY.*
_Olaf the Saint--Slowcoach with the Nimble Tongue--Slowcoach
insults Grettir--Ill Words--Death of Slowcoach--In Search of
Luck_
Early in the spring of the year 1015, news reached Iceland of a change
of rulers in Norway. Olaf Harald's son, commonly known as Olaf the
Saint, had come to be King of Norway; Earl Sweyn had been defeated in
battle and driven out of the country. Now Grettir was remotely
connected with the king, that is to say, his father's grandfather was
brother to the grandfather of Asta, Olaf's mother. The cousinship was
somewhat distant; but in those days folk held to their kin more than
they do now. Grettir thought that a good chance had opened to him for
doing well in Norway, so he resolved to leave Iceland, and enter the
service of his relative, the king. There was a ship bound for Norway
lying in Eyjafiord, and Grettir engaged a berth in her, and made ready
for the voyage.
Now his father Asmund was very old and feeble, and was well nigh
bedridden. He had given over the entire management of the farm to his
eldest son Atli, and to young Illugi, who was a few years younger than
Grettir. Atli was everywhere liked, he was such a prudent, peaceable,
and kindly man.
Grettir's ill-luck still followed him; for, as it chanced, Thorbiorn,
the Slowcoach, the relation of Thorbiorn Oxmain, had resolved to go to
Norway also, and in the same ship. Now the Slowcoach may have been
overslow in his movements, but he was overnimble with his tongue, and he
was strongly advised either not to go in the same boat with Grettir, or,
if he did, to mind his words.
Such advice was thrown away on the Slowcoach, who, instead of practising
caution, in order to show himself off, began to brag of his strength,
and to say scurvy things of Grettir, which were duly reported by
tale-bearers to Grettir. Consequently, when Grettir arrived in the
Eyjafiord with his goods, he was not very amiably disposed towards the
Slowcoach. However Atli had impressed on him the necessity of
controlling himself, and Grettir was resolved not to quarrel with the
man unless he could not help it.
At the side of the shore, those who were about to sail had run up booths
and cabins for themselves and their stores. Many of those going in the
boat were chapmen, and they took with them goods with which to traffic
in Norway.
Just as the vessel was ready, and about to sail next day, Slowcoach
arrived, slow as usual, and after every one else was ready, and their
goods on board. As it was the last evening on shore, all the merchants
and seamen were sitting about their booths, when Thorbiorn Slowcoach
arrived, and rode along the lane between the wooden cabins. The men
shouted to him to know if he had any news to tell them.
Thorbiorn's eye caught that of Grettir, who was sitting on a bench, and
he answered, "I don't hear any news, except that the old idiot Asmund of
Biarg is dead."
This was not true; the old man was not dead, but very ill. Some of
those who heard him said, "That is sad news indeed, for he was a worthy
and honourable old man, and he could ill be spared."
"I don't know that," said Thorbiorn with a scornful laugh.
"But how did he die? What did he die of?"
"Die of?" repeated the Slowcoach loud enough to be heard by Grettir.
"Smothered like a dog in the poky little kennel they call their hall at
Biarg. As for any loss in him, it is news to me that the world is not
well rid of dotards."
"These are ill words," said those who heard him. "No good man will speak
slightingly of old and blameless chiefs. Besides, such words as these
Grettir will not endure."
"Grettir!" scoffed Thorbiorn. "Before I face him I must see him use his
weapons better than he did last summer, when engaged with Kormak. Then
I put my elbow between them, and Grettir was but too ready to accept the
interference. I never saw a man before so shake in his shoes."
Thereat Grettir stood up, and controlling himself, said, "If I have any
faculty of foresight, Slowcoach, I see that you will not be smothered
with smoke like a dog. You should have done other than speak foul words
of very aged men. Gray hairs deserve respect."
"I don't think more of your foresight than I do of the wisdom of your
old fool of a father," said Thorbiorn.
The end was that they fought. The insult was too gross to be endured,
and Grettir felt it incumbent on him to strike for his father's honour.
The fight did not last long; the Slowcoach was slow in his fighting,
slow of hand, only not slow of tongue, and Grettir's sharp sword wounded
him to death.
Slowcoach was buried in the nearest churchyard; and the chapmen gave
Grettir credit for having restrained himself as long as possible, and
allowed that, according to the ideas of the time, he was justified in
fighting and killing the Slowcoach for his spiteful and strife-provoking
words. But Grettir was not pleased, he regretted the contest, because
he knew that it left occasion of strife behind, which might occasion
Atli trouble. Thorbiorn Oxmain would, lie feared, be sure to take up
the quarrel, and then Atli would have to pay a heavy fine in silver to
atone for the death.
The vessel set sail, and reached the south of Norway. There Grettir
took ship in a trading keel, to go north to Drontheim, because he heard
that the king was there, and his heart beat high with hopes that Olaf
would acknowledge him as a cousin, and would take him into his
body-guard, and treat him with honour; and that so, though he had had
ill-luck in Iceland, good luck might attend him in Norway.
*CHAPTER XVII.*
*THE HOSTEL BURNING.*
_Aground in the Fiord--The Light over the Water--Grettir Swims
Across--The Fight for Fire--The Burned Hostel--At Drontheim_
There lived a man named Thorir at Garth in Iceland who had spent the
summer in Norway when Olaf returned from England, and he had stood in
great favour with the king. He had two sons, and at this time both were
well-grown men.
Thorir left Norway for Iceland, where he broke up his ship, not
intending again to go a seafaring. But when he heard the tidings that
Olaf was king over the whole of Norway, then he deemed it would be well
for his sons to go there and pay their respects to the king, and remind
him of his old friendship for their father.
On reaching Norway much about the same time as had Grettir, they took a
long rowing-boat, and skirted the coast on their way north to Drontheim.
They preceded Grettir by a few days. On reaching a fine fiord, in which
there was shelter from the gales that began to bluster violently with
the approach of winter, the sons of Thorir ran in their boat, and as
there was a large wooden hostelry there built for the shelter of
weather-bound travellers, they took refuge in it, and spent their days
in hunting and their nights in revelry.
Now it so fell out that Grettir's merchant ship came into this same
fiord one evening and ran aground on the opposite shore to that on which
was the hostel. The night was bitterly cold; storms of snow drove over
the country, whitening the mountains. The men from the ship were worn
out and numbed with cold, and they had no means of kindling a fire.
Then, all at once, they saw a light spring up on the opposite side of
the firth, twinkling cheerfully between the trees. This was a sight to
make them more eager for a fire, and they began to wish that some one of
their number would swim across and bring over a light.
"In the good old times there must have been men who would have thought
nothing of swimming across the streak of water at night," said Grettir.
"No comfort to us to know that," said one of the crew. "It does not
concern us what may have been in the past, we are shivering in the
present. Why do you not get us fire?"
Grettir hesitated. The night was very like that on which he had fought
with Glam: the same full moon, with snow-laden clouds rolling over its
face for a while obscuring it, and then the full glare falling over the
face of earth again; and, unaccountably, a sense of doubt and depression
had come over him, as though that evil adversary were now about to
revenge his downfall upon him. He looked round suddenly, for he thought
that the fearful eyes were staring at him from out of the black shadows
of the fir-wood.
The rest of the crew united in urging him, and at length, reluctantly,
Grettir yielded. He flung his clothes off, and prepared himself to
swim. He had on him a fur cape, and a pair of wadmal breeches. He took
up an iron pot, and jumped into the sea and swam safely across.
On reaching the further shore, he shook the water off him, but before
long his trousers froze like boards, and the water formed in icicles
about the cape. Grettir ascended through the pine-wood towards the
light, and on reaching the hostel from which it proceeded, walked in
without speaking to anyone, and striding up to the fire, stooped and
began to scrape the red-hot embers into his iron pot. The hall was full
of revellers, and these revellers were the sons of Thorir and their
boat's crew. They were already more than half intoxicated, and when
they saw a wild-looking man enter the hall, half naked and hung with
icicles, they thought he must be a troll or mountain-spirit.
At once every one caught up the first weapon to hand, and rushed to the
attack. Grettir defended himself with a fire-brand plucked from the
hearth; the sons of Thorir stumbled over the fire, and the embers were
strewn about over the floor that was covered with fresh straw.
In a few moments the hall was filled with flame and smoke, and Grettir
took advantage of the confusion to effect his escape. He ran down to
the shore, plunged into the sea and swam across.
He found his companions waiting for him behind a rock, with a pile of
dry wood which they had collected during his absence. The cinders were
blown upon, and twigs applied, till a blaze was produced, and before
long the whole party sat rubbing their almost frozen hands over a
cheerful fire.
Next morning the merchants recognized the fiord, and, remembering that a
hostel stood on the further side, they crossed the water to see it,
when--what was their dismay to find of it only a heap of smoking embers!
From under some of the charred timber were thrust scorched human limbs.
The chapmen, in alarm and horror, turned upon Grettir and charged him
with having maliciously burned the house with all its inmates.
"See, now," said Grettir, "I had a thought that this expedition would
not bring luck. I would I had not taken the trouble to get fire for
such a set of thankless churls."
The ship's crew raked out the embers, pulled aside the smoking rafters,
in their search for the bodies. Some of these were not so disfigured but
that they could recognize them. Moreover, they knew the ship that lay
at anchor under the lee, hard by, and they saw that Grettir had brought
the sons of Thorir to an untimely end. The indignation of the merchants
became so vehement, and their fear so great that they might be
implicated in the matter, that they drove Grettir from their company,
and refused to receive him into their vessel for the remainder of their
voyage. Grettir, in sullen wrath, would say no word of self-defence; he
had to make his way on foot to Drontheim, where he resolved to lay the
whole matter before the king.
The vessel reached Drontheim before him, and the news of the hostel
burning roused universal indignation against Grettir.
*CHAPTER XVIII.*
*THE ORDEAL BY FIRE.*
_Grettir tells his Story--Preparing for the Ordeal--The
Procession--Attacked by the Mob--The King Intervenes--Wicked or
Unlucky_
One day, as King Olaf sat in audience in his great hall, Grettir strode
in, and going before his seat, greeted the king. Olaf looked at him and
said:
"Are you Grettir the Strong?"
He answered: "That is my name, and I have come hither, kinsman, to get a
fair hearing, and to clear myself of the charge of having burned men
maliciously. Of that I am guiltless."
King Olaf replied: "I heartily trust that what you say is true, and that
you will be able to rid yourself of a charge so bad."
Grettir replied that he was ready to do whatsoever the king desired, in
order to prove his innocence.
Then said the king to him, "Tell me the whole story, that I may be able
to judge."
Grettir answered by relating the circumstances. He had simply taken fire
from the hearth, when he was fallen upon by those who were drinking, and
who were too tipsy to understand his explanation. He went away with the
red-hot embers, and did not set fire to anything, but the drunken men
kicked the glowing coals about amidst the straw.
The king remained silent some moments, and then he said: "There are no
witnesses either on your behalf or against you. No man was by who is
not dead. God and his angels alone know whether you speak the truth or
not, therefore I must refer you to the judgment of God."
"What must I do?" asked Grettir.
"You will have to go through the ordeal of fire," said the king.
"What is that?" asked the young man.
"You must lift bars of red-hot iron, and walk with bare feet on
ploughshares heated red in a furnace."
"And what if I am burnt?"
"Then will you be adjudged guilty."
Grettir shrugged his shoulders: "If it must be so, let it be at once;
but whether I be burnt or not, I declare that I am clear of all intent
to hurt those men."
"You cannot undergo the ordeal now," said the king. "You would be
burned to a certainty. You must go through preparation first."
"What preparation?"
"A week of fasting and prayer," was the reply.
Then Grettir was taken away and put in ward, and fed with bread and
water for a week, and the bishop visited him and taught him to pray that
if he were innocent, God would reveal his innocence by enabling him to
pass unscathed through the ordeal.
The day came, and Drontheim was thronged with people from all the
country round, to see the Icelander of whom such tales were told. A
procession was formed; first went the king's body-guard followed by the
king himself, wearing his crown, then came the bishop, the choir, and
the clergy, and last of all Grettir, his wild red hair flying loose in
the breeze, his arms folded, and his eyes wandering over the sea of
heads that filled the square before the cathedral doors. The crowd
pressed in closer and closer. Opinions differed as to whether he were
guilty or not. Among the mob was a young man of dark complexion, who
made a great noise, shouldering his way to the front, and shouting.
"Look at the fellow!" he exclaimed. "This is the man who, in cold
blood, burnt down a house over helpless men, and now he is to be given u
chance of escape."
"But he says he is guiltless," argued one in the crowd.
"Guiltless!" exclaimed the youth. "If one of us had done the deed,
should we have been trifled with? The king wants him for his
body-guard, because he is so strong."
"He should be given a chance of clearing himself," said one who stood
near.
"Yes--of course--because he is a kinsman of the king. So the irons have
been painted red, to look as if hot. I know how the trick is done. But
he shall not escape me."
Thereupon the young man sprang at Grettir and drove his nails into his
face so that they drew blood; at the same time he poured forth against
him a stream of insulting names.
This was more than the Icelander could bear; he caught the young man, as
a cat catches a mouse, held him aloft, shook him, and then threw him
away, when he fell on the ground and was stunned. It was feared he might
be killed. This act gave occasion to a general uproar; the mob wanted
to lay hands on Grettir; some threw stones, others assaulted him with
sticks; but he, planting his back against the church wall, turned up his
sleeves, guarded off the blows, shouting to his assailants to come on.
Not a man came within his reach but was sent reeling back or was felled
to the ground. In the meantime the king and the bishop were in the choir
waiting. The red-hot ploughshares which had been laid on the pavement
were gradually cooling, but no Grettir appeared.
[Illustration: GRETTIR DEFENDS HIMSELF FROM THE MOB.]
At last the sounds of the uproar reached the king's ear, and he sent out
to know the occasion. His messenger returned a moment after to report
that the Icelander was fighting the whole town and had knocked down and
well nigh killed several persons. The king thereupon sprang from his
throne, hastened down the nave, and came out of the great western door
when the conflict was at its height.
"Oh, sire," exclaimed Grettir, "see how I can fight the rascals!" and at
the word he knocked a man over at the king's feet.
With difficulty the tumult was arrested, and Grettir separated from the
combatants; and then he wanted to go with the king and try the ordeal of
fire.
"Not so," answered Olaf, "you have already incurred sin. It is possible
that some of those you have knocked down may never recover, so that
their blood will lie at your door."
"What is to be done?" asked Grettir.
The king considered.
"I see you are a very wicked or at all events a very unlucky man. When
you were here before you were the occasion of several deaths. I do not
desire to keep you in Norway, but as winter has set in you may tarry
here till next spring, and then you shall be outlawed and return to
Iceland."
*CHAPTER XIX.*
*THE WINTER IN NORWAY.*
_At Einar's Farm--The Bearsarks--A Visit from Snoekoll--The
Bearsark's Demand--Grettir Temporizes--The Bearsark has a
Fit--Death of Snoekoll--Dromund's History--Grettir's Arms--A
Pair of Tongs_
King Olaf had decided that Grettir must leave Norway and return to
Iceland. If he was not a guilty man he was a most unfortunate one.
Now, the Norse race, whether in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, or Iceland,
believed in luck. They said that certain men were born to ill-luck, and
such men they avoided, because they feared lest the ill-luck that clung
to them might attach itself to, and involve those who came in contact
with them.
It was not possible for Grettir to return that year to Iceland, for all
the ships bound for his native land had sailed before winter set in, so
King Olaf agreed to allow him to remain in the kingdom through the
winter, but bound him to depart on the first opportunity next year.
Somewhat sad at heart with disappointment, and with the impression that
perhaps Olaf the king was right, and that ill-luck really did weigh on
him, Grettir left the court, and went at Yule to the house of a bonder
or yeoman called Einar, and remained with him awhile. The farm was in a
lonely place in a fiord opening back to the snowy mountains. Einar was
a kindly man, hospitable, and he did his best to make Grettir's stay
with him pleasant. He had a daughter, a fair, beautiful girl, with blue
eyes, and hair like amber silk, and her name was Gyrid. Perhaps the
beautiful Gyrid was one attraction to Grettir, but if so he never spoke
what was on his heart, because he knew it would be useless. He was an
unlucky man; he had made himself a name, indeed, as one of great daring,
but he had won for himself neither home, nor riches, nor favour.
Now it fell out that at this time there were some savage ruffians in the
country who were called Bearsarks. They were outlaws in most cases, and
they lived in secret dens in the dense forests, whence they issued and
swooped down on the farms, and there challenged the bonders to fight
with them, or to give up to them whatever they needed. These ruffians
wore bear-skins drawn over their bodies, and they thrust their heads
through the jaws of the beasts, so that they presented a hideous and
frightening appearance. Then they worked themselves into paroxysms of
rage, when they were like madmen; they rolled their eyes, they roared
and howled like wild beasts, and foam formed on their mouths and dropped
on the ground. They were wont also, when these fits came on them, to
bite the edges of their shields, and with their fangs they were known to
have dinted the metal quite deep. Some folks even said they had bitten
pieces out of solid shields. It was usually supposed that these
Bearsarks were possessed by evil spirits, and it is probable that in
many cases they were really mad--mad through having given way to their
violent passions, till they knew no law, and thought to carry everything
before them by their violence. It was even at one time thought by the
superstitious that they could change their shapes, and run about at will
in the forms of bears or wolves; but this idea grew out of the fact of
their clothing themselves in bear or wolf skins, and drawing the skull
of the beast over their heads as a rude helmet, and looking out through
the open jaws that thus formed a visor.
One day, just after Yule, to the terror and dismay of Einar, one of the
most redoubtable of these Bearsarks, a fellow called Snoekoll, came
thundering up to his door on a huge black horse, followed by three or
four others on foot, all clothed in skins; but Snoekoll, instead of
wearing the bear's skin over his head, had on a helmet with great tusks
of a boar protruding from it, and a boar's head drawn over the metal.
It is worth remark that the crests worn later by knights, and which we
have still on our plate and on harness, are derived from similar
adornments to helmets. Some warriors put wings of eagles on their
head-pieces, others put the paws of bears or representations of lions.
These were badges of their prowess, or marks whereby they might be
known.
Snoekoll struck the door of the farmhouse with his spear, and roared to
the owner to come forth. At once Einar and Grettir issued from the hall,
and Einar in great trepidation asked the Bearsark what he wanted.
"What do I want?" shouted Snoekoll. "I want one of two things. Either
that you give me up your beautiful daughter to be my wife, and with her
five-score bags of silver, or else that you fight me here. If you kill
me, then luck is yours. If I kill you, then I shall carry off your
daughter and all that you possess."
Einar turned to Grettir and asked him in a whisper what he was to do.
He himself was an old man whose fighting days were over, and he had no
chance against this savage.
Grettir answered that he had better consult his honour and the happiness
of Gyrid, and not give way to a bully. The Bearsark sat on his horse
rolling his eyes from one to another. He had a great iron-rimmed shield
before him.
Then he bellowed forth: "Come! I am not going to wait here whilst you
consider matters. Make your selection of the two alternatives at once.
What is that great lout at your side whispering? Does he want to play a
little game of who is master along with me?"
"For my part," said Grettir, "the farmer and I are about in equal
predicament; he is too old to fight, and I am unskilled in arms."
"I see! I see!" roared Snoekoll. "You are both trembling in your
shoes. Wait till my fit is on me, and then you will shake indeed."
"Let us see how you look in your Bearsark fit," said Grettir.
Then Snoekoll waxed wroth, and worked himself up into one of the fits of
madness. There can be no doubt that in some cases this was all bluster
and sham. But in many cases these fellows really roused themselves into
perfect frenzies of madness in which they did not know what they did.
Now Snoekoll began to bellow like a bull, and to roll his eyes, and he
put the edge of the great shield in his mouth and bit at it, and blew
foam from his lips that rolled down the face of the shield. Grettir
fixed his eyes steadily on him, and put his hands into his pockets.
Snoekoll rocked himself on his horse, and his companions began also to
bellow, and stir themselves up into madness. Grettir, with his eye
fixed steadily on the ruffian, drew little by little nearer to him; but
as he had no weapon, and held his hands confined, Snoekoll, if he did
observe him, disregarded him. When Grettir stood close beside him and
looked up at the red glaring eyes, the foaming lips of Snoekoll, and
heard his howls and the crunching of his great teeth against the strong
oak and iron of the shield, he suddenly laughed, lifted his foot, caught
the bottom of the shield a sudden kick upwards, and the shield with the
violence of the upward shock broke Snoekoll's jaw. Instantly the
Bearsark stopped his bellows, let fall the shield, and before he could
draw his sword Grettir caught his helmet by the great boar tusks, gave
them a twist, and rolled Snoekoll down off his horse on the ground,
knelt on him, and with the ruffian's own sword dealt him his death-blow.
When the others saw the fall of their chief they ceased their antics,
turned and ran away to hide in the woods.
The bonder, Einar, thanked Grettir for his assistance, and the lovely
Gyrid gave him also her grateful acknowledgments and a sweet smile; but
Grettir knew that a portionless unlucky man like himself could not
aspire to her hand, and feeling that he was daily becoming more attached
to her, he deemed it right at once to leave, and he went away to a place
called Tunsberg, where lived his half-brother, Thorstein Dromund.
Now, to understand the relationship of Dromund to Grettir, you must know
that his father, Asmund, had been twice married. He had been in Norway
when a young man with a merchant ship, and he had also gone with his
wares to England and France, and had gained great wealth; and as he had
many relations in Norway he was well received there in winter, when he
came back from his merchant trips. On one of these occasions he had met
a damsel called Ranveig, whose father and mother were dead. She was of
good birth, and was wealthy. Asmund asked for her hand and married her,
and settled on the lands that belonged to her in Norway. They had a son
called Thorstein, who, because he was rather slow of speech and manner,
was nicknamed Dromund; but as we meet with other Thorsteins in this
story, to prevent confusion we will speak of him as Dromund.
After a while Asmund's wife Ranveig died, and then her relatives
insisted on taking away all her lands and possessions and keeping them
in trust for little Dromund. Asmund did not care to quarrel with them,
so he left Dromund with his late wife's relatives and went home to
Iceland, where, after a few years, he married Asdis, and by her became
the father of Atli, Grettir, and Illugi, and of two daughters, one of
whom he named after his first wife.
Dromund grew up in Norway on his estates at Tunsberg, and became a man
of wealth and renown, a quiet man, but one who held his own, and was
generally respected.
Now Grettir went to him, and his half-brother received him very
affectionately, and insisted on his remaining with him all the rest of
the winter till it was time for him to sail to Iceland.
One little incident is mentioned concerning that time that deserves to
be recorded.
Grettir slept in the same apartment as did his brother.
One morning Dromund awoke early, and he saw how that Grettir's arms were
out of bed, and he wondered at their size.
Presently Grettir awoke, and then Dromund said to him: "Grettir, I have
been amused with looking at your bare arms. What muscles you have got!
I never saw the like."
"I need strong muscles to do what I have to do."
"True enough, brother," said Dromund. "But I could wish there were a
little more luck as well as muscle attached to those bones."
"Let me look at your arms," said Grettir.
Then Dromund put his arms out of bed, and when he saw them Grettir burst
out laughing, for they were so thin and scraggy.
"Upon my word, brother, I never saw such a wretched pair of tongs in my
life," he said.
"They may be a pair of tongs, old boy," answered Dromund, "but they are
tongs that shall ever be extended to help you when in need. And," added
Dromund in a lower tone, "if it should ever befall you that your
ill-luck should overmaster you, and you not die in your bed; then,
Grettir, I promise you, if I am alive, that I shall not let this pair of
tongs rest till, with them, I have avenged you."
No more is related of their talk together. The spring wore on, and in
summer Grettir took ship.
The brothers parted with much affection, and they never again saw each
other's face.
*CHAPTER XX.*
*OF WHAT BEFELL AT BIARG.*
_Thorbiorn's Servant--Ali at Biarg--Seeking a Quarrel--A Fair
Answer--Atli's Dilemma--Thorbiorn's Revenge--The Slaying of
Atli--Atli's Grave_
Whilst Grettir was in Norway, that ill-luck which pursued him did not
fail to touch and trouble his Icelandic home as well.
It will be remembered that Grettir had been forced to fight the
Slowcoach, and had killed him. Now the cousin of this man was Thorbiorn
Oxmain, who lived in the Ramsfirth. This Thorbiorn had got a
serving-man named Ali, a somewhat lazy man, strong, but unruly. As he
did his work badly, and was slow about it, his master rebuked him, and
when rebukes failed, he threatened him. Threats also proved unavailing,
so Thorbiorn one day took the stick to his back, and beat him till he
danced. After this Ali would remain no longer in his service; he ran
away, crossed the ridge to the Midfiord, and came to Biarg, where he
presented himself before Atli, who asked him what he wanted.
The fellow said that he was in quest of service.
"But," said Atli, "you are, I understand, one of Thorbiorn's workmen."
"I was so, but I have left his service because I was badly treated. He
beat me till I was black and blue; no one can remain with him, he is so
rough with his men, and he exacts of them too much work. I have come
here because I hear that you treat your servants well."
Atli replied: "I have hands enough, you had better go back to Thorbiorn,
for I do not want you."
"I will never go back to him, that I declare," said the churl. "If you
turn me away, I have nowhere to which I can go."
So he remained for a few nights at Biarg; and Atli did not like to turn
him out of the house. Then one day he went to work with Atli's men, and
worked hard and well, for he was a powerful man. So time passed. Atli
did not agree to pay him any wage, and he did not send him away. He did
not feel best pleased at having the man there, but he was too
kind-hearted to drive him away.
Not only did he remain there and work well, but he showed himself ready
to turn his hand to anything, and was the most useful man about the
place.
Now Thorbiorn heard that his churl was at Biarg. The death of Slowcoach
had rankled in his breast. He had felt that it was his duty to take up
the case and demand recompense, yet he had not done so; now he was
angered that Atli had opened his doors to his runaway servant. He had
covenanted with the man for a year, but the fellow was so disagreeable
that he would have gladly dispensed with his service; but that Atli
should have received him, and that the man should be making himself
useful at Biarg,--that made him very angry indeed.
So he mounted his horse and rode to Biarg, attended by two men, and
called out Atli to talk with him.
Atli came forth and welcomed him.
Then Thorbiorn said: "You are determined to pick up fresh occasion of
quarrel, and stir ill-will between us. Why have you enticed away my
servant? You had no right to behave thus to me."
Atli replied quietly: "You are mistaken. I did not entice him away.
The fellow came to me. I did not know for certain that he was your
servant, nor did I know for how long he was engaged to you. Show me that
I have done wrong and I will make reparation. If he is yours, reclaim
him, I will not keep him. At the same time I do not like to shut him
out of my house."
"I claim the man," said Thorbiorn; "I forbid him to do a stroke of work
here. I expect him returned to me."
"Nay," said Atli, "take the man, you are welcome to him; but I cannot
bind him hand and foot and convey him to your house. If you can get him
to go with you, well and good, I will not detain him."
Atli had answered fairly, but this did not satisfy Thorbiorn; he knew
that he could not drag the man back to his farm, nor could he persuade
him to follow, so he rode home in a mighty bad temper, his heart boiling
with anger against Atli. And now he thought that he would at one and
the same time punish Atli for taking away his servant, and wipe out the
wrong of the slaying of the Slowcoach.
In the evening when the men came in from work, Atli said that Thorbiorn
had been there and had reclaimed his churl, and Atli bade the fellow
depart and go back to his master.
Then the man said: "That's a true proverb, He who is most praised is
found most faulty at the test. I came to you because I heard so much
good of you, and now that I have toiled for you without wages all the
early summer, as I have worked for none else, you want to kick me out of
doors as winter draws on. I will not go. You will have to beat me as
Thorbiorn beat me to make me leave this house, and then, even, I am not
sure but that I shall remain in spite of being beaten."
Atli did not know exactly what to do. He did not wish to ill-treat the
fellow, and yet without ill-treatment there was no getting rid of him.
So he let him remain on.
One day a warm wet rainy mist covered the land, the hills were enveloped
in cloud; Atli sent out some of his men to mow at a distance where there
was some grass, and others he sent out fishing. He remained at home
himself with only two or three men.
That day Thorbiorn rode over the ridge that divided the dales, with a
helmet on his head, a sword at his side, and a barbed spear in his hand.
He came to Biarg, and no one noticed his approach. He went to the main
door, and knocked at it. Then he drew back behind the buildings, so
that no one might see him from the door. In Iceland the walls of a
house between the gables are buttressed with turf--thick walls or
buttresses that project several feet, and are about six or nine feet
thick. Such buttresses stood one on each side of the hall door at
Biarg, and behind one of these Thorbiorn concealed himself.
When he had knocked at the door, a woman came to it, unbarred and looked
up and down the terrace or platform on which the house was built, but
saw no one. Thorbiorn peeped from behind the wall of turf and caught a
glimpse of her, and then backed again into his hiding-place. The woman
then returned into the house, and told Atli that there was no one
outside.
She had hardly spoken before Thorbiorn knocked again. Then Atli jumped
up and said: "There must be someone there, and I will go and see myself
who it is."
Then he went forth and looked out of the door, but saw no one, as
Thorbiorn had again retreated behind the bank of turf. The water was
streaming down, so Atli did not go from under cover, but laid a hand on
each of the door-posts, and looked up and down the valley.
Just as he was looking away from where Thorbiorn was concealed, that man
suddenly swung himself round the bank of turf, and with all his might
drove the spear against Atli, using both his hands. The spear entered
him below the ribs, and ran right through him. Atli uttered no cry, and
fell forward over the threshold. At that the women rushed forth, and
they took Atli up, but he was dead.
Then Thorbiorn, who had run to his horse, which was tied up behind the
house, rode out on the terrace, and halting before the door proclaimed
that he had done this deed.
Now this was a formality which, according to Icelandic law, made his act
to be not regarded as a murder. A murder by law was the slaying of a
man by one who concealed his name.
Then Thorbiorn rode home.
The goodwife, Asdis, sent for her men, and Atli's body was laid out, and
he was buried beside his father, old Asmund, who had died during the
winter. There was a church in those days at Biarg, but there is none
there now. When I was there I asked of the farmer now living in Biarg
where was the old churchyard, but its site was lost; so I could not tell
where were the graves of Atli the kind-hearted, honourable man, and the
rest of the family.
Great was the lamentation through the district at the death of one so
loved and respected, and hard things were said of Thorbiorn for what he
had done.
*CHAPTER XXI.*
*THE RETURN OF GRETTIR.*
_An Old Charge--Trial in Absence--Three Messengers of
Ill--Grettir and his Mother--Grettir goes to Revenge Atli_
That same summer news reached Iceland of the burning of the hostel by
Grettir. When Thorir of Garth heard of the death of his sons he was
furious. He rode to the great annual assize at Thingvalla, with a large
retinue, and charged Grettir with having killed his boys maliciously;
and he demanded that for this offence Grettir should be outlawed.
Then Skapti the judge said: "If things are as reported, then surely
Grettir has committed an evil deed; but we have only heard one side of
the story, and we only know of what has happened at third hand, by
report; there are two ways of telling every story. Let us wait till
Grettir returns to Iceland. There will be time enough for this action to
be taken. I will not give my word that Grettir is guilty till we have
heard what he has to say for himself."
But Thorir was such a powerful chieftain that he overbore all
resistance. It was said that he could not lawfully take action against
a man in his absence; but this was overridden by Thorir, who by packing
the court was able to carry out what he wanted. Moreover, owing to the
death of Atli there was no one to oppose him vigorously.
He pushed on matters so hard that nought could avail to acquit Grettir,
and he was proclaimed an outlaw throughout the whole of Iceland, and
Thorir also put a price on his head of many ounces of silver, which he
said he would pay to that man who would kill him in Norway or Iceland,
or wherever he might find him.
Towards the close of the summer Grettir arrived in a vessel off the
mouth of the White-river, an exile from Norway.
It was a still summer night when the ship dropped anchor. A boat came
from the shore, and was rowed to the ship. Grettir stood watching it
from the bows, leaning on his sword. As it touched the side of the
ship, he called, "What news do you bring?"
"Are you Grettir, Asmund's son?" asked a man rising in the boat.
"I am," replied Grettir.
"Then we bear you ill news: your father is dead."
Another man stood up in the boat, and said: "Grettir, he was an old man,
and you can hardly have expected to hear that he was still alive. But
what I have to say concerns you as closely, and is unexpected. Your
brother Atli has been slain by Thorbiorn Oxmain."
Then a third man rose and said: "But these tidings concern others first
and you secondly. What I have to say concerns you mainly. You have
been made an outlaw throughout the length and breadth of the land, and a
price is set on your head."
It is said that Grettir did not change colour, nor did a muscle in his
whole body quiver; but he lifted up his voice and sang this strain--
"All at once are showered
Round me, the Rhymer,
Tidings sad--my exile,
Father's loss and brother's,
Branching boughs of battle!
Many a blue-blade-breaker
Shall suffer for my sorrow."
The branching bough of battle is a periphrasis for a man, so also is a
blue-blade-breaker; and it is the use of such periphrases that
constituted poetry to Icelandic ideas. One night Grettir swam ashore.
He thought that his enemies would be awaiting him, and should he venture
to land in a boat would fall on him in overwhelming numbers; so he took
to the water and swam to a point at some distance. Then he took a horse
that he found in a farm near where he came ashore, and he rode across
country to the Middle-firth, and reached home in two days. He reached
Biarg during the night when all were asleep; so instead of disturbing
the household, he opened a private door, stepped into the hall, stole up
to his mother's bed, and threw his arms round her neck.
She started up, and asked who was there. When he told her, she clasped
him to her heart, and laid her head, sobbing, on his breast, saying.
"Oh, my son! I am bereaved of my children! Atli, my eldest, has been
foully murdered, and you are outlawed; only Illugi remains."
Grettir remained at home a few days in close concealment. Even the men
of the farm were not suffered to know that he was there. He heard the
story of how Thorbiorn Oxmain had basely and in cowardly manner slain
his brother, when Atli was unarmed; and Grettir considered that it was
his duty to avenge his death.
*CHAPTER XXII*
*THE SLAYING OF OXMAIN.*
_By the Boiling Spring--Grettir knocks the Nail from his
Spear--Oxmain places his Son in Ambush--The Fight with
Oxmain--Grettir's Spear-head--The Law concerning Manslaying--A
Rising Black Cloud_
One fine day, soon after his return, Grettir mounted a horse, and
without an attendant rode over the hill to the Ramsfirth, and came down
to Thorod's-stead. This is still a good farm, the best on the fiord,
and it is by far the best built pile of buildings thereabouts. It faces
the south and is banked up with turf to the north, to shelter it against
the cold and furious gales from the Polar Sea. The soil is
comparatively rich there, and there are tracts of good grass land on the
slope of the hill by the side of the inlet of sea. The farm buildings
consists at present of a set of wooden gable ends painted red, and the
roofs are all of turf, where the buttercups grow and shine luxuriantly.
Grettir rode up to the farmhouse, about noon, and knocked at the door.
Some women came out and welcomed him; they did not know who he was, or
they would have been more sparing in their welcome. He asked after
Thorbiorn, and was told that he was gone to the meadow, a little way
further down the firth, where he had gone to bind hay, and that he had
taken with him his son, called Arnor, who was a boy of sixteen.
When Grettir heard this, he said farewell to the women, and turned his
horse's head to ride down the fiord towards a boiling spring that
bubbles up out of the rock, throwing up a cloud of steam, and running in
a scalding rill into the sea. Now the rock is perhaps warm there, or
the warm water helps vegetation; certain it is that thereabouts the
grass grows thickly, and there it was that Thorbiorn was making his
bundles of hay. As Grettir rode along near the water, below the field,
Thorbiorn saw him. He had just made up one bundle of hay, and he was
engaged on another. He had set his shield and sword against the load,
and his lad Arnor had a hand-axe beside him.
Thorbiorn looked hard at Grettir as he came along, and he said to the
boy: "There is a fellow riding this way. I wonder who he is, and
whether he wants us. Leave tying up the hay, and let us find out what
his errand is."
Then Grettir leaped off his horse; he had a helmet on his head, and was
girt with the short sword, and he bore a great spear in his hand that
had a long sharp blade but no barbs. The socket was inlaid with silver,
and a nail went through the socket fastening it on to the staff of the
spear. He sat down on a stone, and knocked the nail out. His reason
was that he intended to throw the spear at Thorbiorn, and if he missed
him, he thought the spear-head and the haft would come apart, and would
be of no use to Thorbiorn to fling back at him.
Oxmain said to his son: "I verily believe that is Grettir, Asmund's son,
he is so big; I know no one else so big. He has got occasion enough
against us, and if he is come here it is not with peaceable intentions.
Now we must manage cunningly. I do not know that he has seen you; so
you hide behind the bundle of hay, and lie hid till you see him engaged
with me. Then you steal up noiselessly behind with your axe, and strike
him one blow with all your might between the shoulder-blades. When I
see you coming up, I will fight the more furiously so as to draw off his
attention, that he may not be able to look round. Have no fear, he
cannot hurt you, as his back will be turned to you. Get close enough to
make sure, and you will kill him with one blow."
Now Grettir came uphill into the field, and when he came within a
spear-throw of them, he cast his spear at Thorbiorn; but the head was
looser on the shaft than he had expected it would be, and it became
detached in its flight, and fell off and dropped into a marshy place and
sank, and the shaft flew on but a little way and then fell harmlessly to
the ground.
Then Thorbiorn took his shield, put it before him, drew his sword and
ran against Grettir and engaged him. Grettir had, as already said, the
short sword that he had taken out of the barrow, and with that he warded
off the blows of Thorbiorn and smote at him. Oxmain was a very strong
man, and his shield was covered with well-tanned hide stretched over
oak, and the blade of Grettir fell on it, hacked into it, and sometimes
caught so that he could not at once withdraw it. Thorbiorn now began to
deal more furious blows. Now just as Grettir was wrenching his sword
away from the shield, into which it had bitten deep, he saw someone
close behind him with an axe raised. Instantly he tore out his sword
and smote back over his head to protect his back from his assailant
behind, and the blow came on Arnor just as he was on the point of
driving his axe in between the shoulders of Grettir, so that he
staggered back, mortally wounded. Thorbiorn, whose eye was on his son,
retreated a step, lost his presence of mind for a moment, and thereupon
down came Grettir's sword on his shield and split it in half. Grettir
pursued his advantage, pressed on him, and struck him down at his feet,
dead at a blow.
Then he went in search of his silver-inlaid spear-head, but could not
find it. So he mounted his horse again, rode on to the nearest
farmhouse, and there told what he had done. Many, many years after,
about 1250, the spear-head was found in the marsh. When I was in
Iceland I also obtained a very similar spear-head, only not
silver-inlaid, that was found in the volcanic sand; it had probably been
lost in a very similar manner.
It seems to us in these civilized times very horrible this continual
slaying that took place in Iceland; but we must remember that, as
already said, there were in those days not a single policeman, soldier,
or officer of justice in the island. When a trial took place, the
prosecutor was the person aggrieved, or the nearest akin. The court
pronounced sentence, and then the prosecutor was required to carry out
what the law had ordered. He was to be constable and executioner. Now
the law, or custom which was the same as law, for there was no written
code, was that when one man had been killed, the next of kin was bound
to prosecute the slayer and obtain from him money compensation, or
outlawry, or else he might kill the slayer himself, or one of his kin.
This latter provision seems to us outrageous, that because A kills B,
therefore that C, who is B's brother, may kill D, who is brother to A.
But so the law or custom stood and was recognized as binding, and not to
carry out the law or custom was regarded as dishonourable. It must be
remembered that Iceland was colonized about A.D. 900, and that Grettir
was born only about 97 years after, and that Christianity was adopted in
1000; that is to say, it was sanctioned by law, but no one was forced to
become a Christian unless he liked. Also, that there was no government
in the island, no central authority, and that the colonists lived much
as do the first settlers now in a new colony which is not under the
crown, or like the diggers at the gold mines.
When Grettir had slain Thorbiorn Oxmain, he went home to Biarg and told
his mother, who said it was well that Atli's blood was wiped out by the
death of the man who had so basely and in such cowardly fashion slain
him; but she said she foresaw more trouble coming like a rising black
cloud, and that this would make it more difficult for Grettir to get
relief from his outlawry.
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*AT LEARWOOD.*
_At Hvamsfiord--Iceland Scenery--An Iceland Paradise--One Lucky
Chance--Kuggson's Story--Onund's Voyage--In Search of
Uninhabited Land--The Landing--Eric's Gift--A Cold Back!--Better
than Nothing--An Oversight--Death of Onund--Planning a
Murder--Killing the Curd Bottle--The Churl's Axe--The Red
Stream--Hard Times--The "Wooden-tub"--The Stranded Whale--The
Fight over the Whale--Retreat of the Coldbackers--Before the
Assize--The Judgment--An Evil Act--Ill-luck follows Ill_
After the slaying of Thorbiorn Oxmain, Grettir would not remain at home,
lest trouble should come on his mother; so he rode across the Neck first
of all to his brother-in-law, at Melar, at the head of the Ramsfirth, to
ask his advice. His brother-in-law there was called Gamli; he was not
very rich or powerful, and he represented to Grettir that it would never
do for him to remain in such near proximity to Thorod's-stead, in the
same valley, at the head of the same firth. This Grettir acknowledged,
so he stayed there but a few days, and then rode over the high
table-land to the Lax, or Salmon-dale, where was the watershed, and the
river of the salmon ran west into Hvamsfiord. One of the most
interesting and best written of the Icelandic sagas relates to the
history of this valley. The Hvamsfiord is by nature wonderfully
protected against western storms, for the entrance is almost blocked to
the west by a countless multitude of islands, of which only one is
moderately large, and to the north-west is not only a grassy promontory,
but also a natural breakwater of three long narrow islands.
Outside the cluster of islands are eddies and whirlpools, and the
passage between them is not always safe; but when a vessel has passed
through between the islets it enters as into a wide beautiful inland
lake, the shape of which is that of a boot, with the sole to the east
and the toe turned up north. Moreover, along the north side of this
sheltered firth are high and steep hills that screen from the water all
gales sweeping from the Pole; and in the glens and under the crags of
these hills exposed to the south are beautiful woods of birch.
Formerly in Iceland the woods were much more extensive than they are
no
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