by Various
"That was no question to ask a man!" flared Thorgunna. "He should have slain you for it!"
"He should indeed," laughed Grim. "But let me carry on the tale. I thought we would also repair your bridge over the foss. Well, he can just barely handle a saw, but he nearly took his own foot off with the adz."
"We don't use those tools, I tell you!" Gerald doubled his fists and looked close to tears.
I motioned my guests to sit down. "I don't suppose you can butcher a hog or smoke it either," I said.
"No." I could scarce hear him.
"Well, then, man... what can you do?"
"I--" He could get no words out.
"You were a warrior," said Thorgunna.
"Yes that I was!" he said, his face kindling.
"Small use in Iceland when you have no other skills," I grumbled, "but perhaps, if you can get passage to the eastlands, some king will take you in his guard." Myself I doubted it, for a guardsman needs manners that will do credit to his master; but I had not the heart to say so.
Ketill Hjalmarsson had plainly not liked the way Thorgunna stood close to Gerald and spoke for him. Now he sneered and said: "I might even doubt your skill in fighting."
"That I have been trained for," said Gerald grimly.
"Will you wrestle with me, then?" asked Ketill.
"Gladly!" spat Gerald.
Priest, what is a man to think? As I grow older, I find life to be less and less the good-and-evil, black-and-white thing you say it is; we are all of us some hue of gray. This useless fellow, this spiritless lout who could even be asked if he did women's work and not lift ax, went out in the yard with Ketill Hjalmarsson and threw him three times running. There was some trick he had of grabbing the clothes as Ketill charged... I called a stop when the youth was nearing murderous rage, praised them both, and filled the beer-horns. But Ketill brooded sullenly on the bench all evening.
Gerald said something about making a gun like his own. It would have to be bigger, a cannon he called it, and could sink ships and scatter armies. He would need the help of smiths, and also various stuffs. Charcoal was easy, and sulfur could be found in the volcano country, I suppose, but what is this saltpeter?
Also, being suspicious by now, I questioned him closely as to how he would make such a thing. Did he know just how to mix the powder? No, he admitted. What size would the gun have to be? When he told me at least as long as a man I laughed and asked him how a piece that size could be cast or bored, even if we could scrape together that much iron. This he did not know either.
"You haven't the tools to make the tools to make the tools," he said. I don't know what he meant by that "God help me, I can't run through a thousand years of history all by myself."
He took out the last of his little smoke sticks and lit it. Helgi had tried a puff earlier and gotten sick, though he remained a friend of Gerald's. Now my son proposed to take a boat in the morning and go up to Ice Fjord, where I had some money outstanding I wanted to collect. Hjalmar and Ketill said they would come along for the trip, and Thorgunna pleaded so hard that I let her come along too.
"An ill thing," muttered Sigurd. "All men know the landtrolls like not a woman aboard a ship. It's unlucky."
"How did your father ever bring women to this island?" I grinned.
Now I wish I had listened to him. He was not a clever man, but he often knew whereof he spoke.
At this time I owned a half share in a ship that went to Norway, bartering wadmal for timber. It was a profitable business until she ran afoul of vikings during the disorders while Olaf Tryggvason was overthrowing Jarl Haakon there. Some men will do anything to make a living thieves, cutthroats, they ought to be hanged, the worthless robbers pouncing on honest merchantmen. Had they any courage or honesty they would go to Ireland, which is full of plunder.
Well, anyhow, the ship was abroad, but we had three boats and took one of these. Besides myself, Thorgunna, and Helgi, Hjalmar and Ketill went along, with Grim and Gerald. I saw how the stranger winced at the cold water as we launched her, and afterward took off his shoes and stockings to let his feet dry. He had been surprised to learn we had a bathhouse did he think us savages? but still, he was dainty as a woman and soon moved upwind of our feet.
There was a favoring breeze, so we raised mast and sail. Gerald tried to help, but of course did not know one line from another and got them tangled. Grim snarled at him and Ketill laughed nastily. But erelong we were under way, and he came and sat by me where I had the steering oar.
He had plainly lain long awake thinking, and now he ventured timidly: "In my land they have... will have a rig and rudder which are better than this. With them, you can crisscross against the wind."
"Ah, so now our skilled sailor must give us redes!" sneered KetilL
"Be still," said Thoigunna sharply. "Let Gerald speak."
He gave her a sly look of thanlr^ and I was not unwilling to listen. 'This is something which could easily be made," he said. "I've used such boats myself, and know them well. First, then, the safl should not be square and hung from a yardarm, but three-cornered, with the third corner lashed to a yard swiveling from the mast Then, your steering oar is in the wrong place there should be a rudder in the middle of the stem, guided by a bar." He was eager now, tracing the plan with his fingernail on Thoigunna's cloak, "Witibt these two things, and a deep keel going down to about the height of a man for a boat this size a ship can move across the path of the wind... so. And another sail can be hung between the mast and the prow."
Well, priest, I must say the idea had its merits, and were it not for fear of bad luck for everything of his was unlucky I might even now play with it. But there are clear drawbacks, which I pointed out to him in a reasonable way.
"First and worst," I said, "this rudder and deep keel would make it all but impossible to beach the ship or sail up a shallow river. Perhaps they have many harbors where you hail from, but here a craft must take what landings she can find, and must be speedily launched if there should be an attack. Second, this mast of yours would be hard to unstep when the wind dropped and oars came out. Third, the sail is the wrong shape to stretch as an awning when one must sleep at sea."
"The ship could lie out, and you could go to land in a small boat," he said. "Also, you could build cabins aboard for shelter."
"The cabins would get in the way of the oars," I said, "unless the ship were hopelessly broad-beamed or unless the oarsmen sat below a deck like the galley slaves of Mildagard; and free men would not endure rowing in such foulness."
"Must you have oars?" he asked like a very child.
Laughter barked along the hull. Even the gulls hovering to starboard, where the shore rose darkly, mewed their scorn. "Do they also have tame winds in the place whence you came?" snorted Hjalmar. "What happens if you're becalmed for days, maybe, with provisions running out "
"You could build a ship big enough to carry many weeks' provisions," said Gerald.
"If you have the wealth of a king, you could," said Heigi. "And such a king's ship, lying helpless on a flat sea, would be swarmed by every viking from here to Jomsborg. As for leaving the ship out on the water while you make camp, what would you have for shelter, or for defense if you should be trapped there?"
Gerald slumped. Thorgunna said to him gently: "Some folks have no heart to try anything new. I think it's a grand idea."
He smiled at her, a weary smile, and plucked up the will to say something about a means for finding north even in cloudy weather he said there were stones which always pointed north when hung by a string. I told him kindly that I would be most interested if he could find me some of this stone; or if he knew where it was to be had, I could ask a trader to fetch me a piece. But this he did not know, and fell silent. Ketill opened his mouth, but got such an edged look from Thorgunna that he shut it again; his looks declared plainly enough what a liar he thought Gerald to be.
The wind turned contrary after a while, so we lowered the mast and took to the oars. Gerald was str
ong and willing, though clumsy; however, his hands were so soft that erelong they bled. I offered to let him rest, but he kept doggedly at the work.
Watching him sway back and forth, under the dreary creak of the tholes, the shaft red and wet where he gripped it, I thought much about him. He had done everything wrong which a man could do thus I imagined then, not knowing the future and I did not like the way Thorgunna's eyes strayed to him and rested there. He was no man for my daughter, landless and penniless and helpless. Yet I could not keep from liking him. Whether his tale was true or only a madness, I felt he was honest about it; and surely there was something strange about the way he had come. I noticed the cuts on his chin from my razor; he had said he was not used to our kind of shaving and would grow a beard. He had tried hard. I wondered how well I would have done, landing alone in this witch country of his dreams, with a gap of forever between me and my home.
Perhaps that same misery was what had turned Thorgunna's heart. Women are a kittle breed, priest, and you who leave them alone belike understand them as well as I who have slept with half a hundred in six different lands. I do not thmlr they even understand themselves. Birth and life and death, those are the great mysteries, which none will ever fathom, and a woman is closer to them than a man.
The ill wind stiffened, the sea grew iron gray and choppy under low leaden clouds, and our headway was poor. At sunset we could row no more, but must pull in to a small unpeopled bay and make camp as well as could be on the strand.
We had brought firewood along, and tinder. Gerald, though staggering with weariness, made himself useful, his little sticks kindling the blaze more easily than flint and steel. Thorgunna set herself to cook our supper. We were not warded by the boat from a lean, whining wind; her cloak fluttered like wings and her hair blew wild above the streaming flames. It was the time of light nights, the sky a dim dusky blue, the sea a wrinkled metal sheet and the land like something risen out of dreammists. We men huddled in our cloaks, holding numbed hands to the fire and saying little.
I felt some cheer was needed, and ordered a cask of my best and strongest ale broached. An evil Norn made me do that, but no man escapes his weird. Our bellies seemed all the emptier now when our noses drank in the sputter of a spitted joint, and the ale went swiftly to our heads. I remember declaiming the death song of Ragnar Hairybreeks for no other reason than that I felt like declaiming it.
Thorgunna came to stand over Gerald where he slumped. I saw how her fingers brushed his hair, ever so lightly, and Ketill Hjalmarsson did too. "Have they no verses in your land?" she asked.
"Not like yours," he said, looking up. Neither of them looked away again. "We sing rather than chant. I wish I had my guitar here that's a kind of harp."
"Ah, an Irish bard!" said Hjalmar Broadnose.
I remember strangely well how Gerald smiled, and what he said in his own tongue, though I know not the meaning: "Only on me wither's side, begorra" I suppose it was magic.
"Well, sing for us," asked Thorgunna.
"Let me think," he said. "I shall have to put it in Norse words for you." After a little while, staring up at her through the windy night, he began a song. It had a tune I liked, thus:
From this valley they tell me you're leaving,
I shall miss your bright eyes and sweet smile.
You will carry the sunshine with you,
That has brightened my life all the while....
I don't remember the rest, except that it was not quite decent.
When he had finished, Hjalmar and Grim went over to see if the meat was done. I saw a glimmering of tears in my daughter's eyes. "That was a lovely thing," she said.
Ketill sat upright. The flames splashed his face with wild, running hues. There was a rawness in his tone: "Yes, we've found what this fellow can do: sit about and make pretty songs for the girls. Keep him for that, Ospak."
Thorgunna whitened, and Helgi clapped hand to sword. I saw how Gerald's face darkened, and his voice was thick: "That was no way to talk. Take it back."
Ketill stood up. "No," he said, "HI ask no pardon of an idler living off honest yeomen."
He was raging, but he had sense enough to shift the insult from my family to Gerald alone. Otherwise he and his father would have had the four of us to deal with. As it was, Gerald stood up too, fists knotted at his sides, and said, "Will you step away from here and settle this?"
"Gladly!" Ketill turned and walked a few yards down the beach, taking his shield from the boat Gerald followed. Thorgunna stood with stricken face, then picked up his ax and ran after him.
"Are you going weaponless?" she shrieked.
Gerald stopped, looking dazed. "I don't want that," he mumbled. "Fists."
Ketill puffed himself up and drew sword. "No doubt you're used to fighting like thralls in your land," he said. "So if you'll crave my pardon, I'll let this matter rest"
Gerald stood with drooped shoulders. He stared at Thorgunna as if he were blind, as if asking her what to do. She handed him the ax.
"So you want me to kill him?" he whispered.
"Yes," she answered.
Then I knew she loved him, for otherwise why should she have cared if he disgraced himself?
Helgi brought him his helmet He put it on, took the ax, and went forward.
"How is this," said Hjalmar to me. "Do you stand by the stranger, Ospak?"
"No," I said, "He's no kin or oath-brother of mine. This is not my quarrel."
"That's good," said Hjalmar. "I'd not like to fight with you, my friend. You were ever a good neighbor."
We went forth together and staked out the ground. Thorgunna told me to lend Gerald my sword, so he could use a shield too, but the man looked oddly at me and said he would rather have the ax. They squared away before each other, he and Ketill, and began fighting.
This was no holmgang, with rules and a fixed order of blows and first blood meaning victory. There was death between those two. Ketill rushed in with the sword whistling in his hand. Gerald sprang back, wielding the ax awkwardly. It bounced off KetHTs shield. The youth grinned and cut at Gerald's legs. I saw blood well forth and stain the ripped breeches.
It was murder from the beginning. Gerald had never used an ax before. Once he even struck with the flat of it. He would have been hewed down at once had Ketill's sword not been blunted on his helmet and had he not been quick on his feet. As it was, he was soon lurching with a dozen wounds.
"Stop the fight!" Thorgunna cried aloud and ran forth. Helgi caught her arms and forced her back, where she struggled and kicked till Grim must help. I saw grief on my son's face but a malicious grin on the carle's.
Gerald turned to look. Ketill's blade came down and slashed his left hand. He dropped the ax. Ketill snarled and readied to finish him, Gerald drew his gun. It made a flash and a barking noise. Ketill fell, twitched for a moment, and was quiet. His lower jaw was blown off and the back of his head gone.
There came a long stillness, where only the wind and the sea had voice.
Then Hjalmar trod forth, his face working but a cold steadiness over him. He knelt and closed his son's eyes, as token that the right of vengeance was his. Rising, he said. "That was an evil deed. For that you shall be outlawed."
"It wasn't magic," said Gerald in a numb tone. "It was like a... a bow. I had no choice. I didn't want to fight with more than my fists."
I trod between them and said the King must decide this matter, but that I hoped Hjalmar would take weregjld for Ketill.
"But I killed him to save my own life!" protested Gerald.
"Nevertheless, weregild must be paid, if Ketill's kin will take it," I explained. "Because of the weapon, I think it will be doubled, but that is for the King to judge."
Hjalmar had many other sons, and it was not as if Gerald belonged to a famfly at odds with his own, so I felt he would agree. However, he laughed coldly and asked where a man lacking wealth would find the silver.
Thorgunna stepped up with a wintry calm and said we would pay
it. I opened my mouth, but when I saw her eyes I nodded. "Yes, we will," I said, "in order to keep the peace."
"Then you make this quarrel your own?" asked Hjalmar.
"No," I answered "This man is no blood of my own. But if I choose to make him a gift of money to use as he wishes, what of it?"
Hjalmar smiled. There was sorrow crinkled around his eyes, but he looked on me with old comradeship.
"Erelong this man may be your son-in-law," he said. "I know the signs, Ospak. Then indeed he will be of your folk. Even helping him now in his need will range you on his side."
"And so?" asked Helgi, most softly.
"And so, while I value your friendship, I have sons who will take the death of their brother ill. They'll want revenge on Gerald Samsson, if only for the sake of their good names, and thus our two houses will be sundered and one manslaying will lead to another. It has happened often enough erenow." Hjalmar sighed. "I myself wish peace with you, Ospak, but if you take this killer's side it must be otherwise."
I thought for a moment, thought of Helgi lying with his skull cloven, of my other sons on their garths drawn to battle because of a man they had never seen, I thought of having to wear byrnies every time we went down for driftwood and never knowing when we went to bed whether we would wake to find the house ringed in by spearmen.
"Yes," I said, "you are right, Hjalmar. I withdraw my offer. Let this be a matter between you and him alone."
We gripped hands on it.
Thorgunna gace a small cry and fled into Gerald's arms. He held her close. "What does this mean?" he asked slowly.
"I cannot keep you any longer," I said, "but belike some crofter will give you a root Hjalmar is a law-abiding man and will not harm you until the King has outlawed you. That will not be before midsummer. Perhaps you can get passage out of Iceland ere then."
"A useless one like me?" he replied bitterly.
Thorgunna whirled free and blazed that I was a coward and a perjurer and all else evil. I let her have it out, then laid my hands on her shoulders.
"It is for the house," I said. "The house and the blood, which are holy. Men die and women weep, but while the kindred live our names are remembered. Can you ask a score of men to die for your own hankerings?"
