“That is their reputation. When you were a child, some Icelanders were in Greenland with a damaged ship, and they fought with the Greenlanders for two winters about driftage rights, and in the end they burnt the ship to the waterline rather than leave it to the Greenlanders without sufficient payment. They are a hard folk.”
“Then we must meet their hardness with our own.” But the fact was that neither man knew just how this might be done.
Now Bjorn Bollason and Bolli Bjornsson began going about on skis every day to farms in Brattahlid district, where Bjorn had many friends, but Gunnar Asgeirsson and Jon Andres Erlendsson were not so well known, and at every farmstead, Bjorn Bollason gave gifts, and enlisted the friendship of everyone, and all remembered how he had distributed food during the great hunger, and how he had kept the Thing together when most of the judges had died off, and all of the farmers swore their friendship to him, without, however, knowing the nature of the case that was being prepared, for Thorstein and Snorri had insisted upon the secrecy of this. This also happened, that Bork and Thorstein went back to Nes in the southern part of Vatna Hverfi district, where they had been staying and talked privily among the other Icelanders there, but because this was Jon Andres Erlendsson’s and Kollgrim Gunnarsson’s district, the Icelanders spoke not to their hosts concerning these matters, but hung together and kept their peace.
Gunnar now went to his cousin Thorkel, and he explained the case to him, and Thorkel was as sanguine as could be. Indeed, no man that Gunnar or Jon Andres spoke to about the case could understand how things could go badly for Kollgrim. The greatest penalty for such a crime was lesser outlawry, and he had, after all, gone with an Icelandic woman, not a Greenlandic one. None of the judges were related to the woman, were they? And she had gone off from her husband to live by herself with the priests, had she not? Does a man, seeing a trinket lying before him in the grass, fail to pick it up? And so Gunnar and Jon Andres went about Vatna Hverfi district, both the northern and the southern parts, and they garnered a great deal of support, and in every farmstead they told what they suspected, that the Icelanders would try to break up the Thing through fighting, and men vowed to carry what weapons they had to the assembly fields, spears and bows and arrows and bone axes and such. And after going about Vatna Hverfi district, Jon Andres went farther south, to where he had other farms, and he found what support he could find there, and Gunnar went about Hvalsey Fjord and over the hills to Kambstead Fjord. Still it was the case that the Icelanders did not summon Kollgrim, and though all folk knew that the case was pending, there was no common talk of it, nor any talk of the woman, only enough to say that she was ill, and had been since early in Lent.
Now Larus the Prophet began going about, as the spring came on, with news of more visions, this time from the angel Gabriel, who, he said, had called him by the most endearing names, for example, my child, and my brother, and my boy, and who had been clothed in his angelic robes, which could not be seen as much as they could be felt, for it seemed to Larus that his fingers became as eyes and his eyes became as fingers, this was how he saw the angelic robes, the halo, and the great wings, which opened out like the wings of an eagle diving for a strike, and each feather was barbed with light. That, said Larus, was the angel Gabriel, and here was his news, that a new age was at hand, and the sign of this new age would be the taking of a certain devil who had long lived among the Greenlanders, and folk, especially those of the southern parts, knew this to be Ofeig Thorkelsson, for his sins and depredations grew season by season, and the folk of the south felt much oppressed by them. When this fellow was taken, the angel Gabriel said, the sign of the new age would be that men would bring bits of wood and planking and furniture and they would comb the beaches and gather up every burnable thing they could find, and they would build a great pyre, and the fellow would be tied to the pyre and burnt up, and the Devil would take the fellow’s soul for his own, and all other men would be saved. But men, the angel said, must deprive themselves and their own families of light and heat in order to make up this pyre, or otherwise they would not be saved, and these were the rewards that they would find after the burning was completed: a ship would come, ornately carved, painted, and decorated with purple, and on it would be the longed-for bishop, a young man in purple robes, with half a dozen trained priests, who would, right there upon the strand, go among the Greenlanders and shrive them and give them the true wafer of wheat and the true drink of wine made from grapes. These folk would bring news that the two popes had died off, and a single pope, the pope of Jerusalem, had risen up and returned his church to holiness, and they would also bring new furnishings for the cathedral—tapestries of silk sewn with golden thread, ewers and chalices of gold chased in silver, altar cloths from far to the east, also made of silk, new glass, of many colors, for the cathedral window, and another set of bells, so that the ears of the Greenlanders would thrill to the rising and falling tones of many bells, not just the booming of the one that hung in the belfry now. This would also be the case, that the new bishop would recognize the holiness of Larus himself, and establish a house for him, where he and his neighbors could have their simple meetings. Such were Larus’ predictions, and for lack of anything better to do, most people talked of them, as they had of his other predictions. He went from farm to farm, and there was always something special to eat for him, and something for him to take home to Ashild and little Tota.
The spring weather was of a piece with the winter weather, that is, there was much wind and little rain, and sand got in everywhere, and folk were not hopeful for the summer season, for such winds as these carry off the moisture in the grass, and only those steadings with large systems of streams and canals manage to get by with hay for the winter. Even so, the seal hunt was a prosperous one, with many large and small seals for every steading. And after the seal hunt, Thorgrim Solvason brought his case against Kollgrim Gunnarsson, and named his witnesses, and declared that this case would be tried at the Thing. And still Gunnar Asgeirsson had been unable to talk privily with Bjorn Bollason, but at any rate, he was rather sanguine about the case, and considered that unless the Icelanders killed Kollgrim at the Thing, through a pitched battle, the penalty would be one of lesser outlawry, next to nothing for such a man as Kollgrim.
Gunnar and Jon Andres quietly made their plans to defend themselves in a pitched battle, and those were these, that they and the Thorkelssons and some other men from Vatna Hverfi district would arrive at the assembly fields early in the day, and lay down such weapons as they usually had with them, as by law men must do at the beginning of every Thing, but they would keep other weapons with them in their booths. Their booths they would set up on the high ground above the spot where the law courts normally were held, four or five booths in a row across the hill, and men would always be in these booths, so that when the Icelanders should begin disrupting the court and fighting, these men could quickly run down the hill and fall upon them with such weapons as they had.
Some time before the Thing, Jon Andres and Gunnar went to Gunnars Stead, to explain these precautions to Kollgrim, and also to enlist him in his own case, for he had said nothing all spring about his plans for the Thing. It was the law that every accused man had to be present to hear the case against him, and also to hear his defense, if he chose not to make it himself. Gunnar went first to Ketils Stead and spent the night there, and had talk with both Helga and Jon Andres about Kollgrim, but neither of them could surmise how he would receive the plans, for Helga said that he was much confused, it seemed to her, as he had often been years before, after his dunking. If he spoke, she said, he spoke only of his fate and his mortality. Elisabet Thorolfsdottir was no help to him, Helga said, because she was very angry against him for going with the Icelandic woman, and could not swallow the bitter words that came into her mouth. Even so, Kollgrim stayed about the place, and heard the girl out, and seemed not to care what was being said.
It was the case that Gunnar had not actually visited Gunnars Stead sin
ce removing himself to Lavrans Stead—that is, for the entire life of Kollgrim Gunnarsson, some thirty winters—and when he and Jon Andres and the servingmen came on their horses around the hillside, and the broad fields of Gunnars Stead with their peaceful buildings lay spread before him, he stopped and gazed and knew not what to say, for indeed, the steading had a wide and pleasant aspect. The blue of the sky was cast back by the blue of the lakes that dotted the fields, and the ancient water system ran through the thick grass, glinting here and there. The great hillside where he had gone to gather blueberries with Margret, and where he had later gone to kill Skuli Gudmundsson, rose, pale and serene, off to the west, and the sun shone upon it. Now he gave his horse a little kick, and the animal trotted into the scene that Gunnar had just been gazing upon, and it seemed to him that he was indeed an unlucky man, but that his ill luck had always taken this lovely shape, so that as it destroyed him, still he clutched it to his breast.
Kollgrim took no interest in their plans for his defense, and they got little satisfaction from him, and so, though they lingered through the day, at last, toward evening, all agreed that there was no more to be said on this subject. Gunnar and Jon Andres returned to Ketils Stead for the night. And now, after their evening meat, when Helga and the child Gunnhild had gone to their bedcloset, and all of the servants as well, Gunnar and Jon Andres sat on the slope that looked from the steading down toward the water of the lake.
Gunnar said, “It seems to me that I have never told you a tale, although it is my habit to tell such tales as I know.”
Jon Andres looked at him with some pleasure, and said, “It would please me to hear such a tale as you might have told my Helga when she was a child.”
“I will tell this one, then. It is said by folk that some seventy-five winters ago, when my father Asgeir was a boy and folk still lived on the farmsteads of the western settlement, there was a certain man there named Kari, who went out one spring and slew a great she-bear, the greatest that was ever taken in Greenland. This bear was some ten ells from nose to tail and stood on her hind legs as tall as two men. But her cub, which Kari saw after he had made the kill, was as tiny as a puppy, and so Kari, who was a softhearted fellow after all, forbore to kill it, and took it home with him. But instead of putting it in the byre, he brought it into the steading. Now Kari’s wife, whose name was Hjordis, had a new baby at the breast, and Kari gave her the following choice, she could either suckle the bear and the child together, or she could milk herself and and feed the bear through an eagle’s quill, as folk do when a child is unable to suck. This woman Hjordis was a lazy and not very particular sort of person, and so she chose to suckle the bear and the child together.”
Gunnar’s voice was nearly a whisper, as if he were speaking to children huddled together in the bedcloset, and Jon Andres moved closer and closed his eyes, for indeed, he had had a fondness for tales as a boy, though gossip had been more the rule with Vigdis and Erlend than tales had been.
“Now the baby and the bear grew apace, and each looked at the other while they were suckling, and each thought that the other was his brother, or himself, and the two began to chatter to each other, bear and boy. Kari was rather pleased with this, and Hjordis, too, but the priest of the parish was less pleased, for men must look upward to the angels, rather than downward to the beasts. Even so, Kari and Hjordis paid little attention to the priest. They named the bear Bjorn, and the boy’s name was Ulf. It happened that after the bear came, Hjordis had no more children, and so they looked upon these two as their children.
“The boy, as it turned out, was not so handsome, for he had a squint and a humped back. But the bear was a beautiful bear, with long, soft, white fur that glowed in the light and the dark, and he had a shiny black nose and large, shiny brown eyes, and they were not the eyes of a wild beast, which communicate nothing to men, for there is a veil between them that God Himself put there. Bjorn’s eyes were the eyes of a dog or a horse when such a beast looks longingly at a man and seems about to speak.
“Now, when the bear was four or five winters old, which is about full-grown for a bear, Kari bethought himself, and said to Hjordis, ‘It seems to me that we cannot keep our Bjorn with us much longer, for he is too big for his bedcloset, and he eats up all of our meat, and he is no longer content to sit upon the bench for his meals. It seems to me that he must go into the wastelands and live as other bears do, although indeed he is the smallest bear I have ever seen.’ And so, Kari’s heart was moved again to pity, at the thought of his little Bjorn out in the wastelands. They did nothing and did not speak of sending him away for another few winters.
“At last, when the little bear was some ten winters old, Kari made up his mind, and he put on his skis and took little Bjorn by the paw, and went with him into the wastelands. They spent the night in a shelter that men of the west had built for their hunting trips, and in the morning, Kari divided his meat with the bear and said, ‘Now, my Bjorn, we must part, and you must go as a bear, and I must go as a man.’ And he put his hands into the bear’s thick fur and looked with longing into his eyes, for Kari, as I have said, was a softhearted fellow, and very fond of his bear son. And the bear looked with longing back at Kari. But after that, he went down on all fours and trotted away into the mountains. When Kari got back to his steading, Hjordis declared that Ulf was nowhere to be found, and though they looked everywhere for him, and had the neighbors in, searching, they did not find him, and they were much cast down, for where they had had two children, now they had none. And so they went through the winter.
“In the spring Kari could stand it no longer, and he went back to the wastelands where he had left Bjorn and began to shout for the bear. He stayed there for three days, shouting and looking about, and he saw that nothing was to come of his trip, and he was about to leave, when he heard his name on the breeze, ‘Kari! Kari!’ Just then, a white bear of enormous size appeared nearby, and Kari saw that it was Bjorn, only he had grown into a real bear during his winter in the wastelands. And Bjorn looked at Kari, and he opened his mouth, and he said, ‘Greetings, Kari,’ in a growling and bearlike, but friendly, voice. And Kari exclaimed, ‘My son! My son! We long for you every day. Please return to us as our Bjorn again!’ But Bjorn was a grown male bear, who had swiped fish from the ocean and wandered far and wide and known grown she-bears in the winter. He had little interest in sitting on a bench or sleeping in a bedcloset any longer. It seemed to him, however, that he would like to learn one thing, and so he said to Kari, ‘I will come with you if you promise to get the priest to teach me how to read.’ And Kari, who wanted nothing more than to have his Bjorn back again, made this promise.
“But indeed, this was a hard promise to keep, for the priest was a stubborn fellow, and Kari knew that the man had never countenanced raising the bear, and that he would consider the bear’s talking a devilish thing, and so Hjordis made the bear a large robe with a close-fitting hood, and when the bear put it on, all that could be seen were his beautiful brown eyes. Now Kari went to the priest and said, ‘My son has returned to us a changed fellow, for he has been among the folk of the eastern settlement, at Herjolfsnes. But though he has many strange ideas, he would like to be taught to read, and so we beg you to do this for him, for no one knows what his fate will be.’ And so, out of pity for Ulf and also because Kari gave him many fine gifts, the priest came with his books and taught the bear to read, and he said to Kari, ‘Your son has a very strange voice. It is almost a growl, although not unpleasant.’ And Kari said, ‘Did you not know? Such is the tone of voice that they cultivate at Herjolfsnes.’
“Every night that this was going on the bear asked for a great deal of meat, so that all the seals that Kari got on the seal hunt were eaten up by the middle of the summer. Then, one day, he said, ‘Indeed, my father, your bedcloset where you sleep with my mother is larger than mine, and I would like to stretch out. I fear that if you don’t give me your bedcloset, I will have to go off to the mountains, for life in a steading is very
cramped, isn’t it?’
“But his fur was so soft, and his eyes were so beautiful, and he was so heavy and bearlike, yet withal so graceful that Kari couldn’t endure to give him up, and so he and Hjordis went out of their bedcloset and Bjorn went into it, and he lay there, sometimes all day, reading what books could be had for him.
“Now it happened that one night Kari saw Bjorn roll out of his bedcloset and leave the steading, and Kari followed him. The bear went out to the sheepfold in the moonlight, and he climbed up upon the wall. The sheep, being used to the smell of bear, both of Bjorn and of Kari, whose hands smelled of bear after he had been with Bjorn, were not alarmed, and only went on sleeping or grazing, but Bjorn reached down, as bears do with fish, and swept one into his arms, and broke its neck with his teeth, and ripped it open and ate it. Then he went back into the steading.
“In the morning, Kari came to Bjorn and said, ‘My Bjorn, there is the carcase of a sheep outside the door, one of my best ewes. Know you of this?’
“ ‘Yes, indeed,’ said the bear. ‘This ewe was a tasty morsel for me when I awoke hungry in the middle of the night.’
“ ‘But Bjorn,’ said Kari, ‘you must not eat up my ewes, for they are my wealth and my security.’
“And the bear looked at him for a long time, and he looked at him with the eyes of a wild beast, and finally he said, “But indeed, my father, I was hungry.’ That was all they spoke about it, but the next morning, Kari found another carcase outside the door, and said to the bear, ‘Bjorn, we have spoken of this before. I am seriously displeased.’ And Bjorn said, ‘Indeed, Father, I was hungry.’ And this went on for three more days. Finally, Kari told Bjorn that he must under no circumstances dare to eat another of the ewes, but Bjorn only said to him, ‘Does it not say in old books, Father, that those who are hungry must be fed?’ Now Kari did not know how to reply to this, for he knew nothing of old books.