The Saga of Colm the Slave

by Mike Culpepper

  Colm felt the girl stiffen beside him. He said nothing but nodded at Braga. She said, “Styr seems to want to marry her.” Colm nodded again, wondering what was required of him in this matter. “Neither of these young people has a man to speak for them in this contract." She paused. "Frosti is not willing to do this at this time. I ask you to speak for Freydis.” Braga sat back and waited.

  “Well,” said Colm, “I would be proud.” He thought Braga meant him to offer something to sweeten the deal with Gunnora and he was willing to do that. He wanted Frosti and his family to do well. “Freydis seems to me an honorable hard-working young woman that would make a fine wife to any man. But how do you feel about this offer?” He turned to Freydis.

  The girl sat with the baby in her lap. Ingveld was big and well-formed and, holding her, Freydis seemed very small and young. “I don’t know,” she said. Then she closed her mouth and said no more.

  Colm waited a moment, then began, “Well, Freydis, if you don’t want to marry Styr...”

  “No! It’s not that. I like him well enough, I suppose. I just don’t know about being married.”

  “Then why not put this off for a little while?”

  Braga spoke. “You mustn’t let the problems of others keep you from happiness.”

  “But I don’t know that I would be happy!” said Freydis.

  “Ah,” said Colm, “Well, I think Gunnora would not be so harsh to...”

  “It’s not Gunnora I’m thinking about!”

  Then Colm thought Freydis was concerned about leaving her mother alone to deal with Frosti and Thurid’s family. Most women did not conceive while nursing, but Thurid seemed an exception. “You know,” he said, “Perhaps another serving-girl is needed here at Helgafeld. I think I could find one...” But Freydis was already shaking her head and now Colm was stumped. He looked off across the yard trying to think.

  There was a sudden commotion in the house and Frosti burst out of the entryway. He saw Colm but didn’t greet him, just ducked his head and ran across the yard toward the home field. Thurid emerged from the house shaking her fist and yelling, “Keep going, you good-for-nothing...” then she caught sight of Colm and stopped shouting. She smoothed her apron and said, “Oh, I didn’t know we had company. You should have called me, Braga.”

  “Actually,” said Colm, “I just came to see Braga for a moment. I... uh... that is, Gwyneth wanted to know if she might come by the Trollfarm and pick up some things we were going to send down here.”

  “Oh? What things?”

  Colm improvised. “I’m not entirely certain. Some baby clothes, I think, and the bilberries were abundant so that she dried a lot, more than we can use.” He shrugged and threw up his helpless male hands to show that he understood little of women’s commerce.

  Thurid nodded, looking into his eyes. “And how is Gwyneth?”

  “She is well,” said Colm. “I think she means to come visit you soon.”

  “I am always pleased to see my mother,” said Thurid.

  Colm rode home, turning things over in his mind. He had a talk with Gwyneth. “Thurid seems unhappy in her marriage.”

  “Then I must go speak to her. I have some baby clothes to give her and we have all those dried bilberries...”

  “That would be a fine thing to take,” said Colm.

  So Gwyneth went to visit Thurid, taking her bilberries and baby clothes. She took a look around. “Well, the place is looking nice!”

  Thurid sniffed. “If you say so.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong!” Thurid waved a hand around her. “Everything! That’s what’s wrong!”

  Gwyneth looked about her. The house was tidy, the earth floors swept clean of trash and the benches newly cleaned. That would be Braga’s job, she thought, and Freydis’. She looked at the women’s platform. There was a distaff and spindle but not much thread in the basket. The loom was empty. “I see nothing wrong,” said Gwyneth. A sudden fear took her. “Are the little ones all right?”

  Thurid waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Braga and Freydis have the brats. I swear, if I hear them crying any more, I think I will go mad.” Thurid looked at Gwyneth for a moment, then burst into tears. Gwyneth embraced her and comforted her.

  They sat together on a bench for a while, then Thurid said, “The real problem is Frosti. He has no ambition and won’t work!”

  “Colm told me that he was doing well. He said that your flock has increased and that your cows are doing fine. He said that Frosti...”

  “Oh, sheep!” said Thurid. “Who cares about sheep!”

  “Well what else, then?” said Gwyneth. But Thurid only looked at her and began crying all over again.

  Gwyneth was very concerned. She told Colm, “She seems worried that Frosti isn’t doing his share...” But even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t the real problem.

  “I’ll pay him to look to our horses for a bit,” said Colm. “I’ve been meaning to do it anyway. There’s one or two I’m concerned about.” Gwyneth nodded and lapsed into thought while she worked her loom.

  Colm rode up to the meadows and found Frosti tending one of his mares. Frosti said, “I think this one’s got a small problem. See here?” He lifted the animal’s hoof and pointed to a place that looked to Colm just like horseleg.

  “So, is there anything to be done?” Colm, the farmer, knew that a sick animal was usually a dead animal.

  “Oh, yes,” said Frosti, “I’ll keep her quiet for a few days, then she’ll be right as rain.”

  “Ah, good. I knew I was right to call on you.”

  Frosti shrugged. “Your herd is doing fine. You don’t need any help.”

  “Well,” said Colm, “That’s for me to say. It’s a stiff man who never asks for help, and a stiff branch that breaks in the wind.”

  Frosti sat on the grass. He looked off over the meadow and sighed. “All right,” he said, “I suppose I could use some advice.”

  “I suppose that is easy enough to give.”

  “It is Thurid. I know everyone loves her, and I do as well, but she has been so... so...” Frosti wrung his hands. “Sometimes I think of hitting her, but how could I treat her so? Anyway, look at the women whose husbands beat them! They are broken like ill-treated horses.” Frosti shook his head. “It is my fault! I am useless like Adals!”

  “You are far from useless, Frosti.” And Colm reminded him how well he had done with the farm and how his flock had increased and so on. He did not say anything about his children. Frosti sat and nodded and seemed to buck up a bit, but Colm was concerned about him.

  Colm told Gwyneth about his talk with Frosti. Gwyneth set her mouth in a line. “That girl needs a good shaking!”

  “Frosti will not hurt her.”

  “No. Well, that’s probably for the best. It would be one more thing for her to complain about.” Colm was surprised by Gwyneth’s words. She said, “I think that I will fetch Groa and that we two will have a word with our daughter!” Colm nodded, glad that they weren’t having a word with him!

  So Gwyneth and Groa went to visit Thurid. Thurid wasted no time before starting in on Frosti and how unhappy she was. Groa sat quietly, looking at the floor. Thurid was going on about the farm and how it wasn’t as good as she wanted, and how her children cried all the time, and how Frosti wasn’t doing enough... Groa finally raised her head. “Shut up!” she said.

  “What?” Thurid was flustered.

  “I said shut up.” Groa stood up and bent over her daughter. Her voice shook with anger. “You have a husband, You have a working farm. You have healthy children. You think that’s not enough? You think you deserve more? This is all there is! There is no more! If it’s not enough for you then you will live your life unsatisfied.” Groa waved her hand at the empty loom and the idle spindle. “Try doing your part around here. If you do nothing but listen to your own complaining, you will find yourself a poor companion. As, I expect, everyone else does.”

  Thu
rid sat stock still, her face flushing red, her lips trembling. “Mother...”

  “We spoiled you, we three. We never once made you do anything that you didn’t want. Now see what a bitch we created!” Thurid began to cry but Groa did not embrace her but stood over her, arms folded. Gwyneth watched helplessly. After a time, Groa said, “Now dry your eyes. Braga and her daughter are working in the milk shed and tending your children at the same time. Go work beside them!”

  Thurid stood up and nodded. Head bowed, she walked to the milk shed. “You were hard on her,” said Gwyneth.

  “If she had answered me back, I would have slapped her,” said Groa. “Life is short and unpredictable. If Thurid cannot deal with everyday, then how will she meet the unexpected problems that suddenly confront us?” She looked into Gwyneth’s face. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yes,” said Gwyneth, “Things happen. Illness, danger...” She thought of the berserk. She thought of Geirrid. She shook her head. “It is hard raising children properly.”

  “Well, I did a poor job with this one,” said Groa.

  “No. You were right; it was all three of us. We indulged ourselves by rescuing this child and spoiling her, now that self-indulgence has become part of her.”

  “Yes.”

  “But she is young yet and may develop.”

  “Perhaps. I will visit again and, next time, I’ll praise her work.” Groa swept a glance over the unused tools on the woman’s platform and sighed. “Hopefully she’ll have done something praiseworthy.”

  After this confrontation, Thurid became a more serious person. She did not complain as much but she did not smile and laugh as much as she used to, either. Frosti wondered if he were to blame. He felt guilty and threw himself into his work. The farm prospered and, in time, Frosti realized that he had become fairly wealthy. Meanwhile, Thurid had more babies and most of them lived. Many people looking at this couple envied them and thought them a model of what a family should be.

  33. Gunnora And Freydis

  About six months after Thurid had faced her mothers, Freydis decided that she didn’t want to be a spinster after all. So Colm went to speak to Gunnora and Styr.

  “But she is a slave’s daughter!” said Gunnora.

  Styr said, “Mother, I will always listen to your advice, but I don’t care about her parents. I want to marry this girl.”

  Gunnora saw that her son was very serious. She said, “I suppose I should go have a look at her before deciding.”

  It was late winter and snow covered the land. It was not a good time to travel but Gunnora got out a sleigh and bundled herself into a heap of cloaks and set out for Helgafeld. As she drew near the home field, she saw Frosti’s flock and Freydis moving among the sheep, touching the pregnant ewes’ bellies and judging their time, and testing their wool to see if was ready to be tugged. Gunnora sat watching from a distance for a time, then drove the sleigh over to the enclosure.

  Freydis saw her approach and walked over to the stone fence to meet her. She held her chin up and stood very erect. Gunnora smiled at her pride for she saw how tender it was. She fumbled with her cloaks. “I’m in quite a tangle here,” she said.

  “Let me help you,” said Freydis. She climbed over the stile and began pulling at Gunnora’s covers.

  “Oh, it’s too cold to leave this warm sleigh, anyway,” said Gunnora. “Here, climb in beside me.” So Freydis got into the sleigh and under the cloaks with her. “No use standing out in the cold until icicles hang off your chin!” Freydis smiled a little. “How are the ewes coming along?” asked Gunnora and Freydis told her and they talked about this and that, chatting for a time, and Freydis relaxed. Gunnora made a joke and Freydis laughed, teeth flashing in her face, her cheeks red with the cold. She is a pretty girl, thought Gunnora, I understand why Styr is taken with her. “Now,” she said, “My son tells me good things about you.”

  “That is nice of him. I think well of him, too.”

  “Yes. Well, he is talking of marriage.” Freydis said nothing, just looked into Gunnora’s face. “I wondered how you felt about that.”

  “I think it would please me very much to be married to Styr,” said Freydis.

  “In that case,” said Gunnora, “I suppose there should be serious talk on the subject. Styr will speak for himself. I understand Colm will speak for you?” Freydis nodded. “Well, then,” said Gunnora, “We’ll leave the details up to the men. Now it’s time I got back to my farm. I don’t want to be caught out in the dark.”

  “I’m sure that Thurid would be glad to have you stay over,” said Freydis.

  “Oh, I really want to get back,” said Gunnora. She did not want to embarrass Freydis by taking hospitality in a house where she was a servant. “Tell your mother I was by and will call again to speak to her. Or, better, have her come visit me.” And Gunnora drove on home.

  That spring, Freydis and Styr were married. Freydis went to live at Styr’s place. She worked hard and Gunnora never had a bad word to say about her.

  34. The Althing Considers Religion

  Travellers brought back the news that King Olaf had seized every Icelander in Norway and was holding them hostage until Iceland became Christian. People were upset at the news and there was a great deal of talk about what to do. Finally, it was decided that the whole question of religion would be brought up at the Althing and Iceland’s future would be determined. The Christians planned their campaign well and chose Hall of Sida to lead their faction. He was a well-respected godi who had been baptized early. The pagans had no single leader but thought that they had the right of things.

  A short time before Althing was to convene, Gizur the White and Hjalti Skeggason landed in the Vestmann Islands. They had been held captive by King Olaf but released on the condition that they bring about the conversion of Iceland. Gizur went about gathering all the Christians that he could find but Hjalti stayed behind on the islands because he was still under the sentence of lesser outlawry and it might mean his death should he enter the country.

  Thorolf sat outside his booth at Thingveillir, brooding and pulling his beard. His sword lay on the ground beside his stool. Colm and some other farmers were nearby, talking in hushed tones, sometimes throwing a worried glance at Thorolf. Hallvard went around to the other booths, gathering information. After a time, he returned. Snorri the godi was with him.

  Snorri gestured to Thorolf’s sword and said, “I hope you aren’t planning to use that.”

  Thorolf growled. “So far it has been others who have used their sword against me. Or have you forgotten my grandson’s murder by a Christian?”

  “I could not forget a crime so terrible and wicked. And, as I told you, I will back your suit against Thorodd. If he ever re-appears in Iceland, I may kill him myself.”

  Thorolf muttered and looked away. “This is an unlucky time.”

  “It is a time of change, and we must give over to it.”

  “I see no change coming. The men gathered here are mostly pagans.”

  “The Christians have not yet arrived. You may be surprised at how many they are. Missionaries performed many conversions in the North and East Quarters. Only here in the West did they fail to convert more than a few.”

  Thorolf looked straight at Snorri. “Some of the unconverted seem Christian enough to me.”

  “Yes, I think this new religion is better than the one we have now. And, anyway, it is better to convert than to have a great war amongst ourselves. There are many among the pagans who think the same way.”

  “So the question is already decided, then.”

  “No. It is not decided yet. And there may be bloodshed, but I will do what I can to prevent that. Will you join me in trying to keep the peace?”

  “I have never broken the peace!” snarled Thorolf. “I do not wish bloodshed. But my grandson’s unavenged death gnaws at my belly as though I swallowed a live rat!” He spat on the ground and everyone could see the blood in his spittle. Thorolf gestured at it. “See
there! I feel this thing eating me all the time. I am sick with pain!”

  There was little Snorri could say to this and he soon left. Hallvard stayed with his grandfather, trying to soothe him. Colm thought, from the way Snorri and Hallvard acted toward one another, that they had reached an understanding of some kind.

  So men walked about, some wearing weapons now, and the women stayed inside their booths, making anxious conversation. There was none of the festivity that usually accompanied Althing; no jugglers or conjurors, no gambling tents, no merchants selling trinkets or food. Tension buzzed like flies in the still air.

  Word arrived that the Christians were coming. Gizur was at their head but Hjalti Skeggason was coming too. A party of armed Christians had formed around him and meant to protect him, outlaw that he was. Pagan men took up their own weapons and went to meet Gizur’s party. They outnumbered the Christians but there were many men on both sides. The two forces faced each other and shouted curses and threats at one another. Some men, like Snorri the godi, rode back and forth between the groups, appealing for calm. Eventually, it was agreed that the two sides would meet at the Lawrock the next day and make their case.

  That night, leaders of the pagan faction decided to hold a sacrifice to ask for the gods’ help in preserving the old religion. It was agreed that each quarter would supply two slaves to be sacrificed. It was thought the gods would not ignore the gift of eight lives.

  Thorolf said that he would take part in the sacrifice. He asked Colm if he had a slave to spare. “I have no male slaves,” said Colm, “And I don’t want to ask Gwyneth for any of her women.”

  Thorolf grumbled at this. “I can’t get any help from Hallvard, either! What is it with people feeling so tender toward slaves right now?” He spat and the grass turned red with his blood.

  The next day, everyone gathered at the Lawrock. The Christians marched up led by some Icelanders who had been consecrated as priests. One of them was Ljot Thorgilsson.