The Greenlanders

by Jane Smiley

  This was the summer of 1406, as men reckoned with their stick calendars, and of all of these, that of Finnleif Gudleifsson was the most accurate, and so men remarked among themselves that it had been eight years since the great hunger, and Greenland was full of the sound of children’s voices, but it seemed to folk that they could not hear these voices without sadness and fear, for men never know when the heavy hand of the Lord will fall upon them, for the Lord chooses which sins He will punish, and which He will not, and it is His power to know better than men do what pleases Him. Even so, it seemed to the Greenlanders that their children were a great treasure to them, and that they could not have enough of this treasure. In some steadings four or more children followed upon one another year by year, and the wife and all the servingwomen were round with more.

  At this Thing, Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker said all the laws that he could remember in one day, although it had always taken three days in the time of Osmund Thordarson. After that, cases were conducted, and Ofeig Thorkelsson was outlawed, with only a formal defense by his mother’s brother Hrolf. Men got together from every district, and the priest Eindridi Andresson with them, the men to discuss how the outlaw might be captured and killed, and the priest to say what would be done if Ofeig was indeed a devil. This priest was a hard and outspoken man, but he was not Sira Audun, and folk recalled with wonder how Sira Audun had knocked Ofeig down and sat upon his chest, praying loudly to the Lord. Sira Eindridi would be hard put to do such a thing, folk said.

  Also at this Thing, Jon Andres Erlendsson asked again for the hand of Helga Gunnarsdottir, and Gunnar Asgeirsson did as folk said he should have done the year before, and consented to the marriage. Kollgrim Gunnarsson went about the assembly field at Brattahlid looking dark and ill-tempered, but indeed, he said nothing and threatened no one. And on the last day of the Thing, a peculiar affair took place, and it went as follows.

  Bjorn Bollason had a large new booth, as befitted the lawspeaker, and his wife Signy and his daughter Sigrid arranged it attractively, and were hospitable about serving food to folk who were nearby, and so it was that not a few folk made it their business to be nearby. But among these, there was never anyone from Hvalsey Fjord, for the Hvalsey Fjorders were not especially interesting to the folk from Solar Fell, nor interested in them. But now every time anyone went into the booth, Bjorn Bollason asked after some of the Hvalsey Fjord folk, and about every fourth time he brought up the name of Gunnar Asgeirsson: was Gunnar at the Thing; where was his booth; had he brought any of his folk with him; did Kollgrim Gunnarsson come with him or have a booth of his own; were the father and son on good terms, or were they estranged, as some folk said; was it true that the daughter had been betrothed to a family enemy, and at this very Thing, did Gunnars Stead belong to Gunnar or to Kollgrim; what sort of steading was it, as prosperous as it had once been, or fallen off; was it intact, with two large fields, or had it only the one; what would happen concerning these matters when the marriage took place between Helga and Jon Andres? In short, Bjorn Bollason’s curiosity about Gunnar’s affairs could not be satisfied, and news of this got back to Gunnar, who sat outside his booth and smiled to himself, for he thought that surely Bjorn was thinking to make an offer for Johanna on behalf of one of his sons, and though folk said that the sons were all but indistinguishable from each other, Gunnar thought it would be a good household for Johanna, and he recollected that as matters had turned out, he had not done badly for his daughters after all. But although many folk reported to Gunnar that his name was always in the lawspeaker’s mouth, the lawspeaker himself never appeared, and so Gunnar began to get annoyed, and decided to strike his booth and pack up a little early—on the morning of the fourth day rather than toward evening. And so he was packing his furnishings when a boy who must have been one of the sons came up to him and said in a polite but authoritative way, “Gunnar Asgeirsson, Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker wishes to see you privily in his booth.” Such was not the courteous procedure for betrothal, so Gunnar took his time in finishing his task and arranging his clothing and walking over to the lawspeaker’s booth.

  The lawspeaker had grown heavy in the years since the great hunger, for indeed, there was no stint of provisions at Solar Fell. He was also finely dressed, and the weaving of the stuff of his robe attracted Gunnar’s gaze with its softness and the complexity of the pattern. It was not dyed at all, for the lawspeaker was known to affect clothing that was as white as possible. As soon as Gunnar entered the booth, Bjorn bustled about to put him in the high seat and find him refreshment. Then he turned to everyone else in the booth and sent them away, even Signy, his wife, and Bolli, his eldest son. It seemed to Gunnar that he might be a little offended, if the procedure weren’t so unusual. Now Gunnar sat with his bowl of sourmilk, and Bjorn watched him taste it, and nodded, smiling, as if he wished Gunnar to appreciate especially its smoothness and thickness. Gunnar said nothing and looked boldly about. The booth was a rich one, made partly of reindeer skins and partly of foxskins, with decorated wadmal hung about inside. Finally, Bjorn began in this way: “It seems to me that the marriages of one’s children turn out to call for more care and effort than they should. Why is it that they can’t simply be matched up as a father sees that they should be? Instead of this, there is much exertion of will and a great deal of noise about the steading.”

  “No father would disagree with what you say.”

  “And yet, two of your daughters have made great matches.”

  “Folk say so.”

  “It seems to me that it must be different for you than it is for me, as you have many daughters and I have many sons. Sons are said to be more rowdy and troublesome, but all of my four sons give me less grief than my one daughter.”

  Gunnar smiled. “Folk would say the same of my one son. Folk would say that trouble is in his nature.”

  “Indeed, I am not a little sorry to hear these words of you, for my troublesome daughter has set her heart upon your troublesome son, and is fixed in her resolution to be married into Gunnars Stead.”

  “I had not thought that Kollgrim would ever be wed.”

  “He is a handsome and skilled fellow, the best man for hunting of all the Greenlanders, folk say.”

  “Even so, he is like my father’s brother, Hauk Gunnarsson. He has not the faculty for living with a wife. The concerns of women are so remote from him, that he thinks not of them. It seems to me that it would surprise him to know that such concerns exist.” Gunnar fell silent, in thought, then went on, “But perhaps I am speaking of my uncle and not of my son, for Kollgrim is greatly attached to his sister, and grieves at her marriage more than a brother should.”

  “Does he treat her well or ill?”

  “Well, she says, but she has devoted herself to him since he was an infant swaddled in the bedcloset.”

  “But now she is going off.”

  “Sisters go off, in the course of events.” Now the two men fell silent and looked carefully at each other. After a bit of time, Bjorn Bollason said, “Folk must have told you the whereabouts of Margret Asgeirsdottir.”

  Gunnar colored. “Folk know better than to tell me of her.”

  “Even so, should anything come of this talk we are having—”

  “It seems to me better for your daughter that nothing come of it. Many years ago, Kollgrim was dunked into the ocean as a trick. The event has left its marks. It is not for the carefully raised only daughter of the lawspeaker to take this upon herself. When I have seen her about, for example at Thorkel Gellison’s feast, I have seen that she is a merry one, very pert and full of talk. It seems to me that Kollgrim would confuse her, and also that she would confuse him.”

  Now Bjorn Bollason sat long in thought, and Gunnar could see that he was discontented with the outcome of this talk. At last he said, “But is it not better to let them discover their own foolishness in their own way?”

  “But Kollgrim has never spoken of Sigrid Bjornsdottir. And my Helga tells me that a servingmaid at Gun
nars Stead is with child. These things do not seem auspicious to me. Kollgrim is nearly thirty winters of age. I favor early marriage, as I was myself but nineteen and my Birgitta but fourteen when I gained her at the Thing from Lavrans Kollgrimsson.”

  “I will tell her it cannot be, then.” And he smiled sheepishly, and Gunnar envied him not at all for carrying this news. Then Bjorn said, “But let it be that we part as friends, for you have done your best to save my folk from injury. If trouble should arise for you, from whatever quarter, you may say that the lawspeaker is as a brother to you, and will help you in every way.”

  “Folk say that I am an unlucky fellow, and so I pray that you will not live to regret such liberal words.” And the two men stood up, and parted, and it seemed to them that they had decided the outcome of the matter, and they were both much satisfied.

  Now it also happened on the last day of the Thing that Kollgrim was standing outside his booth, and he had just finished washing himself in a basin of water, when Sigrid Bjornsdottir ambled past. She was dressed very richly, and Kollgrim saw that she had made a fine hood for herself out of the foxskins he had given her. She passed him without looking up or speaking, and he let her go for a bit, until she was well past him. Then he called out, “Indeed, Sigrid Bjornsdottir, it would befit you to thank me for those foxskins you are so vain of.”

  She spoke without turning around. “Have I not made my trade, and paid their full worth? Can there be more that you want from me?”

  Now Kollgrim went after her, and stepped in front of her, and said, “You have a merry smile. A sight of that would be good thanks, except that perhaps it is the case that I would wish for more payments after I had the one.”

  Sigrid laughed. Kollgrim said, “Indeed, I do wish for more.”

  “Men are not to wish for such things. It is discourteous.”

  Now Kollgrim laughed. “I am a Hvalsey Fjorder. It is not for me to know what is discourteous, as the daughter of the lawspeaker herself does.”

  “Folk say you are a Vatna Hverfi man, though.”

  “And folk say that you are living at Solar Fell, but I happen to know that you were born elsewhere, in Dyrnes.”

  “We share something then.” She smiled brightly, and Kollgrim looked her up and down. She was much unlike Helga, small and trim and lively, with those curls spilling out of her hood and falling about her face. He said, “It seems to me that we might share more things, if events turned out a certain way.”

  “Even so, folk know nothing of what is to come. At any rate, the Thing is breaking up today, and when our servants have our booth down, then we must depart. But indeed, it is a large booth, and my father has brought along many furnishings. Of course, also there are not a few servants.” After saying this, Sigrid began to walk up the hillside, and Kollgrim followed her, and they had more conversation. At the top of the hill, Kollgrim turned off, and went to Gunnar’s booth, which was nearby. Gunnar was beginning to separate the reindeer skins from one another, when Kollgrim entered the booth. He said, “My father, I will not mince words with you. It is my intention to wed Sigrid Bjornsdottir of Solar Fell,” and this speech was so unexpected to Gunnar, that he let out a great noise that was half a gasp and half a groan. Now Kollgrim went on, and said, “I see that it is your wish to thwart me in this matter, too.”

  “It seems to me an ill-omened match, especially as we hear from Helga that Elisabet Thorolfsdottir is with child. A wife and a concubine on the same steading always bring trouble, and the sons know not how they stand with one another.”

  “Elisabet Thorolfsdottir may return to Lavrans Stead. Whatever the outcome of the birth, there will be room for the child on one steading or the other. But it is not for a servingmaid to stand in the way of a good match. Helga is leaving me, and it pleases me to have a woman about the place.”

  “Sigrid Bjornsdottir seems more like a girl to me.”

  “She is a good many winters older than Birgitta Lavransdottir was when you brought her to Gunnars Stead. Solar Fell is a well-arranged steading. I doubt that her training has been lacking.”

  “Even so, the folk at Solar Fell are used to good fortune, and none more so than the only daughter. I am not sanguine.” Now Gunnar looked closely at Kollgrim, and said, “But nevertheless, my Kollgrim, I will not stand in the way of this betrothal, for your fate is your own, as is the case with all men, despite the views of their fathers. Perhaps if I support you in this, you will see that I am your friend.”

  “My mother will be pleased with the news.”

  “Pleased enough. More pleased if you should come to Lavrans Stead and tell it to her yourself.”

  “Now you must find Thorkel and Arni Magnusson and go with me to the lawspeaker’s booth. It seems to me that we won’t be disappointed in our reception.” And they went off. After the betrothal was agreed upon, the Thing broke up, and folk went back to their own districts with much to talk about. Gunnar saw that Bjorn Bollason was indeed an easygoing fellow, for he made not the smallest objection to Sigrid’s plans. And he saw that he himself was as easygoing as Bjorn Bollason, although perhaps not as sanguine.

  After the Thing it was decided that the wedding between Jon Andres Erlendsson and Helga Gunnarsdottir would take place just before the autumn seal hunt, that is, on the feast of St. Bartholomew, or as close to that as those with calendars might agree upon. And now Birgitta came out of her bedcloset, and went alone with many of her belongings to Gunnars Stead, so that she could oversee the preparations. The wedding itself was to take place at Ketils Stead, for it is not considered seemly for a bride to be married out of her own steading, unless she be widowed. And so it was the case that Birgitta was often thrown into the company of Jon Andres Erlendsson, and at first these meetings disquieted her very much, for she was reminded of the summer of her pregnancy with Gunnhild, when it seemed to her that Vigdis was casting the evil eye upon her. Although folk said that it was remarkable (or worse) how little Jon Andres looked and acted like his parents, nevertheless, Birgitta saw his mother’s eyes staring out at her from under the dark eyebrows, and was hard put to keep up the talk. But he was devilishly thoughtful of her, and always sent one of his fine horses for her to ride upon, with a handsome servingman to lead it, or else he came himself to Gunnars Stead, and they spoke at length of cheeses and dried meat and stews and roast ptarmigan, as well as tapestries that could be repaired, and benches and tables and the names of guests.

  It seemed to her that the outbuildings of Gunnars Stead rested as peacefully in the wide sunny fields as icebergs floating in the blue fjord in midsummer. She said to Helga, “I have forgotten the pleasant aspect of this steading. The wind never blows here, more than to ruffle the outer hairs of the sheep. Ketils Stead has not such a favorable look about it.”

  “It seems favorable enough to me. This will be good for Sigrid Bjornsdottir. She is accustomed to agreeable surroundings.”

  “The servants there are well meaning, but ill-trained.”

  “If they are well meaning, then they may be well trained.”

  “Helga, have you no fears, then? Every bride goes to her husband as to a great enigma, hoping that not too much that is ill will be revealed, but in this case, it seems to me the enigma is insoluble, and that, every day, Jon Andres Erlendsson will be a great source of surprise to you.”

  “I have no fears.” And Birgitta saw that this was the case. But it seemed to her anyway that Helga was doomed, and this came to her as a great certainty, but she drew from her certainty a special calm and saw that it is fruitless to argue with maidens about the husbands they choose.

  Now the time of the wedding drew near, and Gunnar and Johanna and many of the servingfolk from Lavrans Stead put aside their work at that steading, and came to Vatna Hverfi, although Gunnar stayed far from Gunnars Stead. The weather continued warm and calm. Sira Pall Hallvardsson came to Undir Hofdi church, and opened up the priest’s house and lived there for three weeks, and each week he held the services and called the banns. The pr
iest’s house was in great disarray, but Ofeig had apparently gone off to the south to some other district, for he was nowhere in Vatna Hverfi district all during the summer. Sira Pall Hallvardsson was so old now that he walked with a crutch, but folk still liked him better than Sira Eindridi Andresson, or the boy priest, Sira Andres Eindridason, who seemed to know little, and yet think quite well of himself. Of Sira Jon, who was still alive, no one spoke. No one even recalled him, except to say among themselves that once there had been a mad priest at Gardar, whose arms had swiveled in their sockets at the onset of his madness.

  Now it happened that on the day before the wedding was to take place, a great ship sailed up Einars Fjord, and it was full of Icelanders, thirty-two of them, both men and women, and the case was that this ship was traveling to Iceland from Norway, and was blown off course, and the people on the ship were suffering greatly from hunger and exposure, for it was late in the season to be coming to Greenland, and the ice had already begun to float up from Cap Farvel and gather at the mouths of the fjords. When they heard this news, folk remarked that Larus the Prophet had indeed been right in his prophesying. And so it was that these thirty-two Icelanders, or at least those who had the strength for it, were invited to come to the wedding at Ketils Stead, and they brought a great deal of news and some good gifts, namely four chased silver goblets, a neatly carved ivory crucifix, and twelve of the new coins of Queen Margarethe, which were shiny silver crowns, beautiful but not so heavy as the old coins from the time of King Sverri.