The Saga of Colm the Slave

by Mike Culpepper

  They watched the horse in silence for a time, then Colm said, “There is a serious matter I need to speak to you about.”

  Frosti nodded. He knew what Colm meant. “I will not hurt Geirrid, though I would rather not see him for a while in case my anger overrides my sense.”

  “Geirrid has gone abroad.”

  Frosti’s head jerked up. “Is that true?”

  “True as daybreak.”

  Frosti nodded. “Well, I’m glad of that. Now people won’t pester me to fight him.”

  “Are people pestering you?”

  Frosti shrugged. “Some of the boys have said a few things. Orm says that I was cheated and should seek vengeance, but he’s just bitter because Gerda has refused to let Marta marry him.”

  “Has she?”

  “Yes. And Orm is the one Marta likes best, too. I don’t think the amber piece mattered all that much in the end. She just likes Orm better, that’s all.”

  “I see,” said Colm. “Well, there’s no use trying to win a woman’s heart if it’s set elsewhere.”

  “No. That leads to trouble later.”

  Both men were silent, recalling instances where a woman had allowed, or even connived at, the killing of an undesired husband.

  “There is one thing,” said Colm. “You have something of value to me.”

  Frosti was puzzled for a moment, then his face cleared. “Oh, Raven’s-Mane is not for sale.”

  “No, not the horse. You have a silver penny on a chain that has great meaning to me. I know you came by it honestly, but I would like to buy it from you.”

  “You mean this?” Frosti hauled the penny out of his shirt. “I have been wearing it to remind me not to be a fool.”

  “Yes,” said Colm. “I also use it as a reminder.”

  “Well, I hear it’s not worth much.”

  “To me it’s worth a great deal. It is a valuable ward against... Well, against various things, not just foolishness. To me it speaks of truth and lies.”

  “Ah! Because the coin itself is a lie?”

  “Partly. Anyway, I will give you a good price.”

  Frosti shrugged and started to speak but Colm cut him off. “I will give you a gold mark and twelve cloaks for it.”

  Frosti’s mouth hung open. “That is a great price for this piece.”

  “It is worth as much to me as that piece of amber. At least as much!”

  Frosti nodded. “I understand. Well, this is a done deal.” The two slapped hands. Frosti took the penny from around his neck and gave it to Colm. Colm took a purse from under his tunic and gave it to the boy. “I’ll send the cloaks over later.”

  Frosti nodded. “No hurry.”

  The two men stood talking for a while in the sunlit meadow before Colm made ready to go. “Frosti,” he said, “If you ever need anything at all, come to me and I will help you all I can.” Frosti nodded and they parted, both feeling good about the morning’s events.

  18. Marta Wants To Marry

  Marta went to speak to Gerda. “Mother,” she said, “It’s time we thought about my marriage.”

  “So people have been saying,” said Gerda, “But I think it might wait a year or two.” Marta was her only daughter and Gerda meant to make certain that her life was shaped properly.

  “You were betrothed at my age.”

  “And look how that turned out! A husband dead before the wedding!” She did not mention her lover, killed by a slave.

  “People say that you weren’t lacking in male attention.”

  “Don’t speak to me of gossip!” Gerda narrowed her eyes and leaned into her daughter’s face. “I wasn’t married for two years after that,”

  Marta didn’t flinch. “Even so, you had your chance at my age.”

  “I suppose you’re thinking of marrying some slave offspring and bringing shame on our household!”

  “I mean to marry Orm Ketilsson.”

  “He isn’t suitable.”

  “He suits me!” Marta narrowed her eyes and pushed her face into her mother’s. “I will marry him, too!”

  Gerda was taken aback at seeing her own expression on her daughter’s face. She had never seen her so angry and determined. “Not if... if...” She started to say, Not if you want to remain my daughter! Then she thought suddenly that she was backing herself into a corner. She was frightened, all at once, of her child. She felt old.

  Marta said, “I will go speak to Grandfather.” And she strode out, head high. Gerda sat dejected and alone.

  Thorolf greeted his granddaughter warmly. He loved his grandchildren dearly but when they had problems, he detached a small part of himself and looked at them through his chieftain’s eyes, as he did anyone he needed to assess.

  Marta said, “It is time I was betrothed, Grandfather. I want you to arrange a match for me.”

  “I see,” said Thorolf. “Have you spoken to your mother about this?”

  “You are the man in this household, Grandfather.”

  Thorolf knew very well that Gerda had said that none of Marta’s suitors measured up. “Well,” he said, “Suppose I ask around. Perhaps in the next district...”

  “The man I want for husband lives in this district. His name is Orm Ketilsson.” She folded her arms and looked at her grandfather with narrow eyes.

  Thorolf almost laughed out loud. He had seen that look before, on Gerda’s face. “I believe your mother thinks that young man unsuitable.”

  “What does she know!” spat Marta. “He is a wonderful man.”

  “Is he, then? Well, sit over beside me and tell me about this fellow.” Marta sat next to her grandfather and began prattling on about Orm while Thorolf sat chuckling to himself at the thought of the confrontation between Marta and Gerda. He remembered, too, Gerda sitting beside him in much the same way when she was young and he had to talk her down from some high dudgeon she was in. He got a lump in his throat then. I am getting old, he thought, and sentimental. It is good that Hallvard is coming along so well. Soon I will be good for nothing.

  After a time, when Marta began to repeat herself, singing Orm’s praises, Thorolf said, “Well, he sounds a very fine match to me. Let me think on this a while and we’ll see about what happens next.”

  “Oh, yes!” Marta leapt up and clapped her hands. “I knew you would help me! Oh, you are so good!” And she kissed him on his bald spot.

  As if I needed another reminder about getting old, thought Thorolf. Ah, well, youth amuses even as it insults. In fact, youth can be very persuasive, he thought. After Marta left, he sent for Hallvard.

  “Your sister wishes to be married,” said Thorolf.

  “Yes,” said Hallvard, “All the girls her age speak of it.”

  “She has her eyes set on this Orm Ketilsson fellow.”

  “He seems a worthy man, but his family is not particularly distinguished.”

  “No, but it is not a shameful match, either. Ketil will post a high marriage price. I am already thinking of that patch of timber that he owns above the river. And he will have silver, too. We could build a house for the couple near the woodlot. Ketil could give up a piece of land and I could give over an equal amount.”

  “So they would start off with a farm.”

  “Yes, and be out of Ketil and Ingunn’s house and away from their influence.” And under mine, he thought.

  “I am certain that contract could be made.”

  “There is one hitch. Your mother is opposed to this match.”

  “Why?”

  “She thinks Orm is not good enough. But, probably, she doesn’t think anyone good enough barring, perhaps, the King of Norway.”

  Hallvard said, “My mother can be a stubborn person.”

  “Yes, but so can your sister. In matters like this, I think it important not to inflame young people’s passion. You know I asked your opinion on Astrid.” Thorolf had arranged a match for Hallvard with Astrid, a girl from a good family in the next district. Her father, Viga-Dan, was prosperous and related by marri
age to Ozurr, the godi there. It was a good match for all except that Thorolf was a little concerned that Astrid had too many family connections that he might have to support in time of trouble. Too many threads leave knots in the weaving.

  “Yes,” said Hallvard. “I like her well enough and think I could grow to love her.”

  “Of course,” said Thorolf. “You are a reasonable man and marriage will suit you. Astrid is a pretty girl, too. More important, she is in love with you and wants you very much. There is no use going against these things. It is like trying to stop a river. Viga-Dan will discover that.” Viga-Dan was delaying the marriage, looking for better terms, but Thorolf was convinced that Astrid would wear him down.

  “Well, then,” said Hallvard, “I should try to help my sister.”

  “Exactly!” Thorolf beamed. He loved it when Hallvard showed signs of learning the lessons he tried to teach him.

  “No use being on the losing side,” said Hallvard, citing a lesson his grandfather had taught him. The two men laughed together. “Now how can I can help Marta?”

  Thorolf and Hallvard talked for a long while after that.

  Hallvard went to see Gerda. “Mother, everyone is saying that Marta ought to be betrothed now.”

  “Yes, everyone with nothing better to do than blather about things that are none of their business! I don’t listen to such gossip.”

  “Well, even so, I think Marta may be listening.”

  “I’ll tell her when it’s time to think of marriage,” said Gerda. “Anyway, what’s become of your betrothal? I thought your grandfather had that all worked out.”

  “It’s true that it’s taken a little longer than expected. I spoke to Grandfather and he’s agreed to stop pressuring Viga-Dan for better terms and to get on with the match.”

  “You told your grandfather?”

  “Yes. He is not so proud and stiff-necked that he won’t listen to what is best for me. He wants me to be happy. I expect this betrothal will be announced very soon and that I will marry Astrid this autumn.”

  “And this will make you happy?”

  Hallvard said, “It’s time I got on with making a place for myself. If I am to be godi then I have to show everyone that I can manage a family and farm. No one thinks an unmarried person is more than a child.”

  “Well, sometimes that is the case. I don’t know that your sister is enough of an adult to marry anyone.”

  “That may be,” said Hallvard, “But she thinks that she is.”

  “She should listen to her mother.”

  “I think she does listen,” said Hallvard, “But she also hears people calling her a child and she doesn’t want to be mocked.”

  Gerda tightened her lips and folded her arms over her bosom. Hallvard went on, “It reflects on everyone around Marta that people can talk about her so...”

  “Who? Tell me their names and I’ll teach them to keep their mouths shut!”

  Hallvard never raised his voice, just kept speaking smoothly. “Sooner or later they are going to gossip about Marta and Orm and then, should those two marry other people, they will talk about them all their lives.”

  “What gossip can there be about them? There is nothing out of the way there!”

  Hallvard raised a shoulder, “Marta could change that...”

  “You mean she could get pregnant?” Gerda’s eyes blazed. “Then perhaps there’d be another no-account baby exposed or thrown into the sea!”

  Hallvard shook his head. “You would never shame yourself by allowing something like that. I know that Marta is headstrong and needs guidance and everyone knows you are the person who provides it.”

  Gerda’s brows knit. “What do you mean?

  “During those years when Father abandoned himself to despair it was you who raised us all. Yes, Mother, we looked to you for wisdom and guidance.”

  “Well,” said Gerda, “I suppose that is so.”

  “Yes,” said Hallvard, “And everyone knows it.” He shook his head. “It pains Marta to come up against you this way and she must doubt herself all the time. And it must trouble you to see your child suffering from self-doubt, when you have raised her to be strong-minded like yourself.”

  “Well... I don’t want her to be a weak weed in the wind. She must be able to stand up for herself, especially when she marries. She can’t have her husband always telling her what to do!”

  “Of course not. You’ve raised her well.” Hallvard shook his head. “Who else could stand up to you?” He looked Gerda right in the face and his eyes shone with admiration for his mother.

  Gerda looked at her son and her heart melted. After Gudbrand died and she came to understand that her children were mortal, she had loved them all the more. Hallvard, her eldest living son, she loved the best. She reached out and touched his hair. “So perhaps I should speak to Marta of marriage.”

  “Well, it can’t happen anytime soon, Mother. My marriage is next! But perhaps next spring or summer. That will give Marta another half-year or so to grow up a little more.”

  Gerda nodded. “Well, then, I suppose that might help.” She smiled at her son. “You can be very persuasive.”

  Hallvard said, “It is something I learned from you, Mother.” And Grandfather, he thought.

  Gerda looked off into the future, calculating. “Anyway, it’s not like she won’t be here where I can look after her.” She thought about being a mother-in-law and helping Marta get the upper hand in this marriage. Hallvard watched her, half-smiling. He didn’t mention that Thorolf was already planning a new house for the couple so that they could start a life outside Gerda’s clutches.

  So, that autumn, Hallvard and Astrid married. They moved into Thorolf’s house and Astrid busied herself with learning to be the mistress of that domain. Thorolf regarded his daughter-in-law with great affection and some amusement. The household got on well. The following summer, Marta and Orm wed and moved into a new house above the river, near the valuable woodlot that was part of the marriage settlement. Orm set to work at making the farm viable and Marta did her part in organizing the household. Gerda came over to visit from time to time, casting sharp eyes on every aspect of her daughter’s life, but she could find little fault with the couple and, in time, ceased trying to do so. She was filled with joy when first Astrid, then Marta, became pregnant.

  Now things were quiet for a time.

  19. Colm And Frosti

  Colm was now a wealthy man. Like most men of importance, he spent a great deal of time talking to others about affairs of the district. His farmhands worked well even when he was away and he trusted them. These were all free men. There were only a few slaves left at the Trollfarm, young women that worked in the household. Gwyneth tended to free them when they became of marriageable age, then they worked as free women, trying to gather a stake so that they and their husbands could find a farm somewhere.

  So Colm looked in on his herds of sheep and cattle and horses, and oversaw the cutting of hay. He took a personal interest at trying to grow barley but nothing much ever came of that project. He organized driftwood collection at the places where foreshore rights weren’t bespoke, and salt-making and fishing and birding. Sometimes he gathered sulfur for trade with the ships that visited Iceland. He took very careful note of everything that happened on his farm. The farmhands never knew when he might suddenly appear to examine their work. He was busy and he was prosperous. He was a serious man. Still, he found time to look in on Mar and see that everything was going well, or visit Gunnar or Ketil, who he treated as a subordinate ever since Orm had refused to sell him the amber pendant, and, from time to time, he went to see Frosti.

  Adals had taken his winnings from the horsefight and bought mares to breed to Raven’s-Mane. He tried to choose the offspring of other good fighting horses. Soon he had quite a herd and began trying to train the young stallions to fight. Alas, Adals was not much good as a horse-trainer and quickly ran through his cash.

  The farm at Helgafeld had few sheep and
only one cow. So Frosti spent his days in the meadows with the horses. He tended them and watched over them, treating the injuries they gave one another and those they developed from falls. He gave special attention to Raven’s-Mane, who now seemed recovered from the fight with Gryr, except for a terrible scar on his muzzle.

  Colm came upon Frosti in the meadow. He was rubbing herbs on the horse’s skin. “It keeps the flies away,” he told Colm. “I’ve watched and some plants the horses don’t like and others they don’t mind, if you bring them on slowly. These are good ones to keep away the flies.”

  Colm took the bruised plants from Frosti and smelled them. “I wonder if they would work on sheep.”

  “I don’t know. I know nothing about sheep.”

  “Well, you seem to know horses pretty well. Raven’s-Mane looks fresh and healthy.”

  Frosti became pensive. “Yes. He is now. But not for long, I think.”

  “How is that?”

  “Adals is going to fight him again.”

  Colm was taken aback by the sadness in Frosti’s voice. “And you fear for him?”

  “He may win or not, I don’t know, but he has never quite recovered from the fight with Gryr. And he is old. Well, at least eight, but I think, ten years old. I think, win or lose, Raven’s-Mane will suffer such wounds that he will die.”

  “Have you spoken to Adals about this?”

  “Yes. But it doesn’t matter. The other stallions have not developed as fighters and they haven’t been trained as riding animals, either. No one wants them.” Frosti shrugged. “Adals needs money. This is the only way he sees to get it.”

  “But...”

  Frosti shook his head. “The horse is doomed. There is no escaping it.”

  Colm had never thought much about fighting horses. So far as he was concerned, a horse was for riding or for sacrifice. If a fighting horse should die... well, that was its doom, as Frosti said. But the young man’s sadness touched him. “I suppose everything has its fate and animals are fated to serve men until they die.”