At last, Larus was brought forth and made to stand before Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker and Sira Eindridi. The woman and the child sat nearby, staring into Bjorn Bollason’s face and then into Larus’ face and they were greatly afraid. Bjorn Bollason drew himself up to his most imposing height, and said, “Larus Thorvaldsson, the case is that our settlement has had the misfortune to lose for a time the arm of the king, whose duty it would be to ascertain the truth of your tales through forcible means, for it may be that you are an obdurate liar whose soul must be vigorously cleansed. The Devil clings fast to those he has captured. It may be, however, that an angel of the Lord has truly visited you, as the Angel Gabriel appeared to Our Lady, and twice to Daniel as well. The souls of the Greenlanders are as close to the Lord as souls anywhere, and the Lord may walk among us if He should choose to. For this reason, we intend to allow you to go back to your steading with your wife and your wife’s child.” Now Bjorn Bollason looked upon Larus with a lowering gaze, and went on, “But we must command you to abjure from telling these tales for three winters, until it happens that the ship you foretell comes or does not come. If, indeed, it does not come, then you will be stripped of your property and your life and any mercy the Church might have upon your soul.” And so Larus was released and sent home, and without being fed, although Signy gave the wife some bits of cheese for the journey. And Bjorn Bollason said to Sira Eindridi that certainly that would be the end of Larus Thorvaldsson, and they had not done badly with him, all things considered. The next day Sira Eindridi went back to Gardar and reported to Sira Pall Hallvardsson everything that had taken place, and Sira Pall Hallvardsson did not agree that they had seen the last of Larus Thorvaldsson, “but,” he said, “events will take their course, as always in Greenland.”
After the affair of Larus Thorvaldsson was past, Bjorn Bollason grew more cheerful, and so did the rest of the folk at Solar Fell. Margret had noticed that folk at Solar Fell were almost always cheerful, for, indeed, almost everything went their way, so that they expected to prosper, and their expectations were usually borne out. By this time, Margret had woven a great many pieces of cloth for Sigrid Bjornsdottir, but the case was that no man could be found to marry her, her kin were so prosperous and she herself was so pleasant and handsome. Such young men as were left on the best farms were not so good-looking as they might be, and in many cases were ill taught, so that Sigrid shamed them with the quickness of her wit and the breadth of her knowledge. Twice Bjorn Bollason took his boat and went to Herjolfsnes, for the family there was prosperous and proud, but the oldest son there was a mere twelve winters old, fully six winters younger than Sigrid. Sigrid herself was not so eager to go off to Herjolfsnes, for folk didn’t hear from Herjolfsnes from one season to the next, and she was greatly fond of her father and mother and brothers, and her petted position among them.
Now it happened that one day in the autumn, after the questioning of Larus Thorvaldsson, but before Eriks Fjord had iced over, the folk of the steading were down upon the strand, gathering seaweed for winter fodder, when a man in a small boat rowed past, and in the boat lay the pelts of some blue foxes. Sigrid could see them from the height of the strand, and she called out to the fellow to draw up to the shore. Seeing her fine clothing and friendly smile, the owner of the boat pulled around and called out to her, “Do you have something for me, then?”
“Nay.” Sigrid laughed. “It is you that has something for me!”
The man got out of his boat. “And what might that be, then?”
“Your foxskins. They are the most beautiful foxskins I have ever seen, not black, not blue, not white, but all of these. I could make a flattering hood of them.”
“For whom?”
“Why, myself of course.”
“They are indeed very fine skins, for they come from the glacier east of Brattahlid, and that is where the finest foxes in the eastern settlement are to be found. I had thought to give them to my sister, but it may be that you have something to trade for them.”
“Indeed, I have nothing to trade,” said Sigrid, laughing merrily. “I thought that you might give them to me.”
Now the hunter himself smiled at the absurdity of this notion. “Why might I give them to you, for no return, then?”
“For these reasons,” said Sigrid. “Because I want them and because it is the case that folk often enjoy giving me things. It is something that I have noticed. But if you do not give them to me, they are still beautiful, and I am pleased to have seen them and to have spoken to you, as well, for I don’t often meet strangers.”
“I am Kollgrim Gunnarsson, and, as this is Solar Fell, it seems to me that you must be Sigrid, the daughter of the lawspeaker.”
“I am indeed.”
“You live a grand life here.”
“Do we?”
“Folk say so.”
“It seems to me that folk live grander lives in Vatna Hverfi district, for I have heard that the pastures there are wide and fertile, and that the sheep are twice the size of other folk’s sheep, and that folk there wear colored clothing every day.” She laughed again, and Kollgrim saw that she was teasing him. He said, “When I go back there, I shall look about me and see if this is the case.” Now he turned and went down the strand toward his boat, and Sigrid called out cheerfully, “You will not give me your furs, then?”
Kollgrim turned around. “Nay, I will not, for these are promised to my sister, who will also look well in them. But if I come by here again with similar furs, or even better ones, whiter as the winter draws on, and you have something to trade for them, some little thing, then I will give you as many as you care to have.”
“I will look for you!” called Sigrid. Then she walked up the strand and joined her brothers, and told them of her encounter, and her brothers said that this was a great promise indeed, for Kollgrim Gunnarsson was well known as a hunter, and in addition, he was the nephew of Margret Asgeirsdottir herself. After this, Sigrid pondered what small thing she might give Kollgrim in return for the furs. Neither Signy nor Bjorn Bollason spoke a word against this transaction, for both Signy and Bjorn Bollason always looked for the best from every occasion.
At Gunnars Stead, the winter was early but mild and snowy, and, as there were no sheep to be slaughtered, only the twelve that had to be gotten through the winter on the little hay they had been able to cut from the homefield, circumstances were narrow, although not gloomy. The steading itself and the hills above it, between Gunnars Stead and the fjord, seemed to be overrun with hares, which Helga seethed and roasted and seethed and roasted again. It was not whalemeat, at least, the winter staple of Hvalsey Fjord, and it seemed to Helga that she would not soon get tired of this meat, partaking as it did of her new life on this fine steading, where the bedclosets were neatly carved with the figures of birds and bears and foxes and men and women and children, where the storehouse had wooden planks as shelves, planks cut from the timbers once carried from Markland, where the sheep byre faced south and the cowbyre was as tight as the steading and the bath house had a convenient little stream running through it.
The ill deeds done in the steading seemed to her to have departed with the men and women who did them, and to have left none of their spirit behind, but she did seem to sense the spirit of other doings, of her mother’s sight of the Virgin and Child walking in the homefield, of the birth of herself and her sister Gunnhild, whom she remembered with affection, of, perhaps, the love between Margret Asgeirsdottir and the Norwegian, which she knew about well enough, from the gossip of Jona, Thorkel Gellison’s wife. Jona made the Norwegian out to have been a handsome and personable man, very quick with his hands, and as brave as anyone when the time for his deathblow came. It was a pity, Jona said, that Margret had been tricked into marrying Olaf, and that was a fact, for Olaf was more like a farm beast than a man, and always had been. Helga had grown up with Olaf, with his smell and his coarse manner, and she had not thought much of it when he died at last, after years of complaints. That Gunna
r had himself killed the Norwegian made both the Norwegian and Gunnar glitter in Helga’s imagination, as the folk in Gunnar’s tales always glittered in her dreams after an evening of stories. She could not remember when any of these folk, Margret, tall and beautiful and as pale-haired as Gunnhild had been, and Skuli, broad-shouldered and handsome and a member of Queen Margarethe’s court, had ever been spoken of at Lavrans Stead, but that didn’t mean that she did not consider them in her heart. Other folk were ready enough to talk about them.
As for Kollgrim, she got along well enough with him these days. When he came home from his trips away hunting, he was eager to chatter about this and that, what he had seen, whose steadings looked trim and prosperous, whose did not, what stratagems he had used to get these birds, and how those foxes had nearly escaped, how he had a new idea for a sort of trap that would hold the foxes better without doing so much damage to their pelts. When he came home and said that he had had conversation with Sigrid Bjornsdottir, she did not think much of the news, since he was ready to have conversation with anyone he might meet, and, like most of those who hunted a great deal, he knew a bit of the skraeling tongue, and even had conversation with them. Anyway, she heard little of his talk, so taken was she with the foxskins he brought her. That very evening she set about scraping and softening them so that she could make herself a hood for Yule, for Thorkel Gellison had sent out messengers announcing a great Yule feast to be held at Hestur Stead, and Helga and Kollgrim were to be guests of honor. The servingmaid, Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, said that she had never seen such skins, of such an unusual color, and it seemed to Helga that everyone would admire her and that therefore she would have great pleasure at the feast.
Of Jon Andres Erlendsson they had seen nothing since coming to Gunnars Stead, and Helga’s fears of him were eased as she became accustomed to the proximity of Ketils Stead. One day shortly after the first snowfall, however, she went out in the morning to look after the sheep, and saw that a strange horse, a very fine beast, was standing with the two horses Thorkel Gellison had given them. It was black, with white on its face, and rather taller than her two. When she had seen to the sheep, she went back inside and found Thorolf at his morning meat and said, “Thorolf, there is a strange horse in the field with our two. When you are finished eating, you must catch it and lead it around the hillside to Ketils Stead, and give it right into the hand of Jon Andres Erlendsson, and say that the folk at Gunnars Stead are returning their stray horse as quickly as can be done, and that they send their neighborly regards.” In this way she hoped to avoid any appearance of unfriendship between the two steadings, and also to banish the new horse as quickly as possible.
At mid-day, Thorolf returned, and Helga, who had been watching for him, accosted him at once and said, “Have you given the horse right into the hands of the master of the steading?”
“Yes.”
“And what was his reply?”
“He said, ‘Thank you. What is your name, then?’ and I said, ‘Thorolf Bessason of Hvalsey Fjord.’ ”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He said, ‘Good-bye.’ ”
“That was all?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“And you are sure that it was the master you spoke to?”
“One of the servingmen told me that it was, when I wouldn’t give the horse to him.”
“And that was all he said?”
“Yes.”
Helga turned away, and knew not what to think, either of Jon Andres Erlendsson, or of herself.
Now the time for Thorkel’s feast drew on, and Johanna Gunnarsdottir went off on skis from Lavrans Stead, to carry some cheeses Birgitta had made and to offer Jona her services with the preparations, and Gunnar accompanied her. When he got to Hestur Stead, Gunnar saw that the preparations were going forward with great dispatch, for there were others from other steadings who had come to help as well. Jona expected to seat fourscore folk and more, if children and servants were counted. No one had held such a feast in Greenland since the time of Bjorn Einarsson Jorsalfari. Jona was in a great tizzy of business, and very pleased with herself, but Gunnar saw that Thorkel was somewhat cast down, and said to him, “Some folk about Hestur Stead seem not so high spirited as others.”
Now Thorkel replied, “Some folk have ill tidings to consider.”
They sat silently for a while. Then Thorkel said, “My wife’s brother, Hrolf, has recently spoken with Ofeig, but he has told no one of this, not even his own wife. Ofeig proposes to live at Hrolf’s steading with him, whether or not he is wanted. Either that or Hrolf must find him an abandoned steading, and furnish him with meat and other sustenance for the winter.”
“I thought Ofeig was content in Alptafjord. An action of outlawry must be brought against him.”
“Whether he is made an outlaw or not, he is no longer content to live as an outlaw.”
“If he is made an outlaw, then he must live as an outlaw, for if he comes into the districts of men, they may kill him with impunity.”
“They may, but can they? What weapons do the Greenlanders have now against such a bear as Ofeig? It is as it was twenty winters ago, when Ofeig was a child. He could not be chastised, and defied beatings, so that folk were tempted to beat him harder and harder, to make sure that the blows were felt. We prevented his mischief only by the harshest measures, and only as long as our strength was greater than his.”
“At any rate an action must be brought, and you must persuade the master of Ketils Stead to bring it, and you must find someone to take Ofeig’s behalf so that everything is according to law. After that a way will be found to stem the child’s mischief.”
“It may be as you state, and it may be that Jon Andres Erlendsson will summon witnesses against Ofeig, although he hasn’t before this, and it may be that the relatives of Einar Marsson will not insist upon damages from Jon Andres Erlendsson, but a half a year lies before us until the time of the Thing, and Ofeig will not sit quietly for us, nor go where we wish him to go. Indeed, it seems to me that he can be counted on to make a great deal of noise and go where he is least wanted.”
“If we are defeated before he comes among us, then we might as well abandon all to him, and go ourselves into the wastelands as outlaws.”
“The fact is, that I am an old man and he has indeed defeated me. He has risen up among my sons like a polar bear grazing with sheep. The shepherd knows he should stay, but longs to run back to the steading.”
“Even so, you will have many prosperous farmers here for the Yule feast, and more than a few of them can lead Jon Andres Erlendsson into talk of Vigdis and Ofeig. Erlend was a litigious man, and Vigdis knew more law than any woman. If the son is scratched, he must bleed the father’s blood.”
“Is it in such a way that folk condemn me, when they speak of Ofeig?” said Thorkel Gellison. Now Gunnar left on skis for Lavrans Stead, and Thorkel went to find Hrolf, and he sent with Hrolf some extra provisions to be given to Ofeig, for Hrolf was not a prosperous man, nor was he especially stout or skilled at fighting.
At Lavrans Stead, Gunnar set about trying to persuade Birgitta to go with himself and Johanna to the Yule feast. When she said that she was too weak, he promised that they would pull her on a sledge. When she said that she was more comfortable at home, he said that such comfort would be her death. When she said that her presence or absence were of no concern to anyone, he said that Jona and all of her helpers had wished to have Birgitta among them. When she said that her robes were old and ill kept, and not very festive, he said that such was the case with all the Greenlanders these days, and perhaps he would set about weaving her a piece of wadmal himself. The skill had not left him. From these replies, Birgitta saw that Gunnar was determined for her to accompany him to the feast, and she made up her mind that she must go, elsewise he would not leave her alone.
After this, she crept about, looking into chests and pulling out gowns and carrying them into the light. Once she said to him, “It is easier to be an
old woman in the darkness of one’s bedcloset than in the light of many stares. Folk will look at me and say that Kollgrim is my grandson and that you are my son. How did I become so little and bent? I dare not look into the rainbarrel. When I have braided my hair, you must say if it is neat or not, for old people must look trim and thorough, or folk will say that they can no longer care for themselves.”
Once she had found a decent robe to wear, and had decorated it with a bit of colored tablet weaving about the hem and the sleeves, then she began asking Gunnar what Jona and the others had been preparing for the feast, what stews and pickles, for example? And after he told her what he had seen, which was not much, she went into the storehouse and found some birds that Kollgrim had snared for her, and some seal fat, and some thyme and bilberries and other herbs that grew about Hvalsey Fjord, and she seethed the birds until the meat fell from the bones, then rendered the seal fat and mixed it with the fat from the birds, and then lay down the meat and the fat and the herbs in layers in a vat, and masked all with more fat, and decorated the top with a design of white cheese, cut finely and laid into the cold dark fat so as to look like a bird in flight. The dish was very pretty, and Birgitta was pleased with it, so pleased that she went out into the storehouse for a morning and sat among the stores, counting out what would get them through the winter. In the days after that, there were things to clean and arrange so that she stayed out of the bedcloset most of the day every day.