The Greenlanders

by Jane Smiley

  Now she held up what was in her hand, and Kollgrim laughed. “Indeed, what would I do with your scissors?”

  “I care not. You may give them to your sister or melt them down, for the handles are pure silver. But I will have the furs you promised me.”

  “And what will you cut your thread with, if you have no scissors?”

  “I will bite it, as the skraeling women do. Besides this, do you think that the household of the lawspeaker is so poor that it has but a single pair of scissors?” Her voice seemed to Helga to flow out into the moonlight in cascading ripples. Kollgrim backed away, laughing, and Sigrid pursued him. Helga saw at once that the lawspeaker’s daughter was intent upon him, although he himself did not see this. He stumbled in the snow and threw up his hands, laughing. “Take them all, then,” he said. “I have twelve or thirteen in my pack. I would not have you think that I intended to shortchange you, rather to give more in this bargain than I thought I would receive. Truly, folk say of you that you are a persistent child!”

  “Do they say I am a child then?”

  “Indeed, I know not what they say, for I am not in everyone’s confidence, but if they do not say this, then they should, for I have not met another like you for relentlessness.”

  “Then we have made a bargain, and we must act on it now, while it is fresh.” She pressed the scissors into his hand. “Now they are yours. I would not touch them again.” Her hand fell upon his sleeve, and grasped it tightly, and after that the two went off. A little while later, Helga stood up and shook out her dress, and Gunnar came around the corner of the steading. “You have awakened, then,” he said. “Your mother has just been spreading some furs in Johanna’s bedcloset for you. I thought I would have to carry you there, as I used to when you were a child. Johanna is already asleep.” And he told her what feats of skating and storytelling she had missed, but she told him nothing of Kollgrim and Sigrid Bjornsdottir. During the next day, she could think of little except the desire in Sigrid Bjornsdottir’s gaze, and the power of her grip when she laid her hand on Kollgrim’s sleeve, and these thoughts shamed her when Jon Andres Erlendsson was about, and so she avoided him for as long as the feast lasted, which was until the morning of the third day.

  At Gunnars Stead it was apparent to Helga that Kollgrim cared little for the scissors, for he left them about thoughtlessly, and finally threw them into one of the chests as if they were in his way. This seemed to Helga a shame upon Sigrid Bjornsdottir, although only Helga knew of it. After the feast, Kollgrim went hunting a great deal, for hares and ptarmigan to put upon the table. He was out almost every day and many nights as well. He began going sometimes to the bedcloset of Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, and the servingmaid had the effect upon him of making him very gay.

  One day in Lent, a servingman from Ketils Stead carried some cheeses over to Gunnars Stead and gave them to Helga, saying that Helga’s and Kollgrim’s late coming would have robbed them of the summer’s milk. The fellow was ill at ease, and not very well schooled in the proper phrases. Helga thanked him and he went off. Now Helga sat down in the steading by herself and gazed upon the cheeses. They were misshapen and Birgitta would have thought them very badly made. Helga looked at them for a long time, as if they were an omen whose meaning she could divine.

  When Bjorn Bollason and his family returned to Solar Fell, Sigrid went at once to Margret Asgeirsdottir, who had stayed home from the feast, and showed her the foxskins, and she said, “These were gotten for me by Kollgrim Gunnarsson, your nephew, who seems to me a fine fellow, with a great steading and the reputation for many skills. His father is a man who is said to read and write as a priest does, his sister is married to the foster son of the greatest man who ever came to Greenland, and his other sister is a handsome and well-dressed woman with no reputation for peevishness. It seems to me that such a man would be proper for me, more proper than any lad from Herjolfsnes could be.”

  The next day, when the two were at their sewing, and Sigrid brought these things up again, Margret said, “Is it not better that you should speak to Bjorn Bollason of this matter? He has more of worth to say to you about it than I do, and also more to say to those you think upon, for indeed, I cannot help you there.”

  “My father cares little to hear of how this Kollgrim’s eyes twinkle, or how he laughs aloud when I laugh, or how tall he is, or how quick he is at untying the knots of his pack. My father would wish me to say that Kollgrim Gunnarsson goes about as other men do, only with more weight.” She laughed merrily. “But indeed, he is not as other men, and they would rather be apart from him and he from them.”

  “It seems to me, my Sigrid, that your days will be happiest if you find yourself some prosperous, sanguine, and energetic fellow with wide fields and plenty of livestock, as well as many friends who think well of him.”

  “What Greenlanders are there these days who could be so described? None that my father has found, other than himself. Even my brothers seem to stand gaping in the presence of Bjorn Bollason, and there is more to them than most other folk. This Kollgrim stands apart from the rest of the Greenlanders, as you yourself do. You are an old woman, but you stand as straight and move as quickly as a girl. Gunnar Asgeirsson looks to be his own wife’s son, and his own son’s brother.”

  “But things in the world do not look as they are. Nor does the unreliable husband look anything like the handsome suitor, though they be the same man.” Now Sigrid Bjornsdottir laid her sewing in her lap and looked at Margret with her lips tightly closed, and Margret saw that the girl’s purpose was fixed. She said, “We Gunnars Stead folk are an unlucky lineage.”

  Sigrid tossed her curls and laughed. “And we Solar Fell folk are as lucky as can be.” And that was all they spoke of the matter for the time. Sigrid made herself a very long hood that came down around her shoulders and dangled in the back almost to the hem of her dress, and this hood was neatly sewn, so that the bluish color in the foxskins formed a pattern of chevrons over Sigrid’s shoulders and about her face, and was flattering to her.

  Now the spring came on, and the ice broke up in the fjords, and the time for the seal hunt came around, and at the seal hunt, Larus the Prophet, as folk called him, sneeringly, declared in the hearing of many men that a dream had come to him in which St. Nikolaus himself declared that Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker was to be made king of Greenland, for the king of Norway, St. Nikolaus said, had been consumed in a great fire, with all his offspring. He was to be crowned with a crown carved of walrus ivory and anointed by the new bishop, the episcopal representative of the pope of Jerusalem, who would shortly appear on the long-awaited ship. Men considered Larus the Prophet a peculiar fellow indeed, for he would not leave off these speeches, although he was threatened and then beaten for them, but he only took a breath and started in anew, and he always had something more to say. The seal hunt was not so successful as it had been in recent years, and men were angered and disturbed by this, and blamed it upon the ravings of Larus.

  After the seal hunt, these things were reported to Bjorn Bollason, and he went to Gardar and spoke at length with Sira Eindridi Andresson, his friend, but afterwards he had little to say about the matter, perhaps because he had come off so ill in the earlier encounter with Larus. At any rate, nothing prevented Larus from speaking, now, and he spread his tales about the Brattahlid district all during the summer. The ship, he predicted, would arrive in one summer, and it would carry both men and women, numbering thirty together.

  Also in this summer, Eyvind Eyvindsson fell and broke his leg in the hills above the church at Dyrnes, and was out among the hills for three days, and died of exposure to the weather. When news of this was brought to Margret from Anna Eyvindsdottir, she was much cast down, for Eyvind was in the habit of visiting her at Solar Fell when he could. His shoulders and hands had been much twisted with the joint ill, but he was still a wild man, disdaining his pain and his disabilities, and full of a great deal of talk. It seemed to Margret that he had been much overlooked by everyone,
including, perhaps, herself. And now the Thing came on, and the folk at Solar Fell prepared to make a great display there.

  In this year, Gunnar carried with him to the Thing fields at Brattahlid a new booth, for his white reindeer skins had fallen into rags, although he had looked after them carefully. His new set of reindeer skins was pieced together with wadmal, and the booth was not so nice as Gunnar had hoped it to be. Indeed, however, when he looked about, he saw that with the Greenlanders’ booths it was as it was with their clothing—most folk could not furnish themselves as they once had, but made do with a bit of trim here and a bit of color there. Now as Gunnar was arranging his provisions inside the booth, Thorkel Gellison came to him with one of his sons. When Gunnar turned to greet his cousin, he saw that Thorkel’s face was gray, and he was much aged, even since the Yuletide feast. Gunnar said, “You do not have good news for me, I can see that.”

  “Nay,” said Thorkel, “but it is no worse than news I have brought you before this, since that has been as bad as can be.”

  “Ofeig has come among the Vatna Hverfi folk, then. If he has done ill to Helga, you must tell me straight out.”

  “Nay. He is closer to Hestur Stead. He has forced a man to take him in and feed him. Do you recall Arnkel Thorgrimsson and his wife, Alfdis? Little good will come of his visit there.”

  “I have seen these folk.”

  “They have nothing to defend themselves against such a fellow as Ofeig. He has his way with the wife, for one thing. And the neighbors are small folk, who can do nothing.”

  “Have you this news from Arnkel himself?”

  “Nay, from his cousin, who sent his servingman there a while ago. His news was that they were putting a good face on things, out of fear. This cousin is himself afraid to go near the steading.”

  “I have told you before that Ofeig must be outlawed by some means or another, and indeed, it should be quick enough work. I must say, with all respect and affection, that you have been remiss in not getting an action brought by Jon Andres Erlendsson. He wishes to be a respected fellow, folk say.”

  “I have spoken to him, but he sees Ofeig differently. He is reluctant. He has no answer other than that he can’t bring an action, although he is courteous enough about it.”

  “Then many farmers must go to him at the Thing, and he must be shown how a worthy man does his business, and acquits himself with his neighbors. I shall not go with you, but I will speak to others. You must go to Bjorn Bollason and to Ragnleif Isleifsson, who is the most prominent farmer in Brattahlid.” And so they set about finding support, and this took most of the first day.

  This support was not as easy to find as Gunnar considered it would be, for it is the case that however apparent an evil is, men are reluctant to take it upon themselves to rectify it, and many obstacles stand in the way of action, and the greatest obstacle is this, that men do not care to do what they are not in the habit of doing. Twelve men went with Thorkel to Jon Andres Erlendsson on the morning of the second day, and these were the men: Bolli Bjornsson, the eldest son of the lawspeaker, who had recently taken over Hoskuld’s steading in Dyrnes; Arni Magnusson, a prosperous farmer in Vatna Hverfi district and Thorkel’s friend and neighbor; Ozur Osmundsson, the stepson of Ragnleif Isleifsson and the son of Osmund Thordarson, the former lawspeaker; Ragnleif himself, although he was old and bent with the joint ill; Bardi Helgason, a neighbor of Arnkel; his brother, Eyolf Helgason; Thorkel’s own son, Skeggi; and Jona’s brother, Hrolf. Four men from Hvalsey Fjord went as well, including Hakon Haraldsson, Gunnar’s near neighbor.

  Jon Andres Erlendsson’s booth was a large and commodious one, and he invited all of the men inside and offered them refreshment. When they declined this, he said, “It must be the case that you have come to speak with me about Ofeig, for indeed, that is the only thing Thorkel ever wishes to speak to me about.” He smiled.

  Ragnleif Isleifsson said, “It is true that Ofeig forms part of our concern, but we have more general things to say. A man who won’t defend himself when injury is done to him shows that he thinks little of himself.”

  “I do not think little of myself, nor indeed, of my mother, but it seems to me that I am much to blame in her death.”

  “You were prepared to take Ofeig or even to kill him when you stood your men about Gunnars Stead and Einar Marsson was killed.”

  “In the heat of events, men are often prepared to do what they later regret doing. I regret the death of Einar, who was my companion and friend. I regret a great deal of mischief that I was a part of for many years, although it seemed a pleasure at the time. I regret that folk have been injured at my hands and the hands of my friends. I have put aside the doing of mischief now.”

  “Now Ofeig has come among these other folk, who can ill afford him, and folk say he abuses them, and has his way with the wife.”

  “Perhaps this is the case, and perhaps it is not. It seems to me that Ofeig is ill-bred and ill-mannered, and it is also the case that he has to live somehow. Perhaps his father would care to take him in, or to find him an abandoned steading in the neighborhood. It does not seem to me that the case is so severe as you make it out to be. I do not see what will make me agree to summon Ofeig and bring an action against him. My father was a litigious man, and got little but ill feeling from it. It seems to me that cases at the Thing end in fighting and killing sooner or later, and always have.”

  Now Ragnleif said, “There was a time when the king’s ombudsman would have taken care of these matters, but now we must rely upon the will of folk themselves.”

  Jon Andres replied, “I see these things differently than you,” and Bolli Bjornsson colored in anger, and said, “There is no room in these things for each man to see them in his own way. Sira Pall Hallvardsson would say that the Greenlanders are too wayward for their own good.”

  Now Thorkel said, “It seems to me that the result of these discussions and hesitations will be very ill, and we will look back upon them with regret. But I see that the master of Ketils Stead thinks himself a great fellow, and is proud of his opinions. Nothing we can say will move him.” Now the men stood up and went out of Jon Andres’ booth, and they spoke of whether Ofeig might be dealt with if a case were not proved against him, but everyone was reluctant to take this course, or, at least, to have others know that he wished to take this course.

  Thorkel went back to Gunnar’s booth and reported that the fox had turned into a lamb, and that he half expected to see a halo form over the fellow’s head, or one of those amulets with O.G.N.S. to appear around his neck. “In short,” he said, “someone living at Ketils Stead has refused to summon a case, and soon we may anticipate wine grapes growing at Gardar.” He was much put out. And after he left, a surprising thing happened, and that was that Jon Andres Erlendsson appeared at Gunnar’s booth with some men that he knew, all prosperous farmers from Vatna Hverfi district, and he asked for Helga Gunnarsdottir in marriage.

  Now Gunnar invited the men inside his booth and asked them to sit down, and the men, who numbered seven, with Jon Andres, were all men Gunnar had known in Vatna Hverfi district, or else the sons of these men. They were men whose envy of Asgeir had turned into pleasure at the trick that had done Gunnar out of his steading, or so it seemed to Gunnar. Although they sat about smiling, as folk do when there is talk of marriage, their smiles seemed evil and false to Gunnar, and aroused in him a painful sense of shame that he had not especially felt since his removal to Hvalsey Fjord. These were men who had amused themselves by repeating the verses of Ketil the Unlucky against Margret Asgeirsdottir, who had clung tight to Erlend Ketilsson in every case against Gunnar, who had gossiped about the Gunnars Stead folk whenever they could. Now one of them said to Gunnar, “My friend, it is not usual for a man to remain silent when the master of such a steading as Ketils Stead, and all the steadings that go together with it, makes such a proposal.”

  Gunnar said, “Indeed, I must hold on to my thoughts if I am to make something of them. I had no notion of this
.”

  “But the maiden is well past the ideal marriage age. How many different thoughts can there be of such a case?”

  Now Jon Andres Erlendsson said, “A man must come to a reply in his own way, and it seems to me wise to let him do so, rather than to distract him and tempt his annoyance.” And so everyone sat about for a little while longer. Gunnar looked at the fellow, and he saw that he had not lost this quality that he had had earlier, when defending himself in the action of Kollgrim’s dunking, a quality of smoothness and charm that had to be likened to something bright—a fire, or a star. If Helga’s gaze were to reveal something unsightly about him, Gunnar could not imagine what it would be. And his friends looked to him in all things, it was easy to see that. Gunnar looked away from him, and reminded himself of the injuries done to him and his father by this man and Erlend, and even Ketil, if old stories were to be believed. Jon Andres said, “Old man, you are scowling, and thinking of what has gone before, but it seems to me that these things may be laid to rest now, for I am heartily sorry for my father’s sins and my own.” The other men smiled and nodded in approval at this speech.

  “Nay,” said Gunnar, “I am thinking of what is to come, for business remains unfinished that endangers many folk, and it seems to me a sign of unwisdom to let it linger.”

  “I have spoken about Ofeig many times, until I am asleep with the tedium of it.” And in spite of himself, he flushed in anger, although he spoke mildly, and at the sight of this anger, Gunnar, too, grew angry, and turned away from the men, saying, “I am accustomed to referring such matters to the woman herself, but in this case, I have no hesitation in declining the offer.” And so the men got up and went off, and news of this offer and its result went about the Thing. In this, folk said, Gunnar showed himself to be the unlucky fellow he had always been. And that evening, the Thing broke up and folk returned to their own districts.