"Why," said Heriolf, "we should like to know how it stands with this
house, and with those who are in it, and those who are of it; and how
long these plagues of sickness and death are to oppress us; and other
things which you may read out of the dark, and be moved to tell us."
She thought for a while, looking down the hall above the heads of those
who stood to hear her. Just below the dais Gudrid was standing with
the house-girls.
After a time Thorberg said, "Set me the spell-seat," and remained
abstracted while it was being done.
Heriolf set up the spell-seat, and then Thorberg opened her pouch of
magic and took out certain small flat stones covered with writing, and
some tufts of feathers, a lump of brown amber, a ring of jet, and some
teeth of a great sea-beast. All these she laid round the seat in a
circle, except the ring of jet, which she kept in her hand. Then she
sat upon the spell-seat, and said to Heriolf, "Bring me the woman who
is to sing the Ward-locks." Those were the charms which had to be
sung, not so much to invoke the spirits with whom she was familiar as
to keep away those who were adverse.
Every man looked at his neighbour; the women whispered together, but
all shook their heads. In and out among his guests Heriolf ran in a
great taking. "Heard any one the like of this, that I should think of
everything, and fail for one?" But nobody knew the songs. In his
naked bed behind the wall lay old Thorbeorn with the blanket up to his
nose, and jerked his thin legs, losing not one tittle of all this.
Presently, with Heriolf hot and flustered and at his wits' end, with
women scouring the kitchen and the bower to find some one not counted
yet, Gudrid turned round about to face the Wise Woman. She was pale,
but her eyes were bright. "Whisht now," Thorberg cried in her deep
tones; "heed the fair girl." The hush then was dreadful, but Gudrid
said what was in her. "I am not a sorceress, and know nothing of
magic, but Halldis my foster-mother taught me some songs which she said
were Ward-locks and charms." Heriolf clapped his hands, and Thorberg
smiled and said, "I believed thee wise when I saw thee first. And now
perhaps it is for me to kiss thy hands, or even for the most of this
company, for thou art timely as well as wise."
But Gudrid looked troubled. She did not at all wish to sing. "The
songs," she said, "were sung idly at home while we sat at needlework.
They did not mean anything to me. I thought no harm of them."
"Nor is there harm, my child," said Thorberg.
Gudrid said, "But this is a rite, and the song is part of it. I think
I ought not to sing, because I am a Christian."
Thorberg was still smiling, but her eyes glittered. "It may be that
thou canst serve the company here, and do no harm to thyself. Who
should think the worse of thee? Certainly not I. But this is for our
host to see about. It is he who made me sit here."
Now it was Heriolf's turn, and he pressed Gudrid hard. The girls too,
and all the women who were there, were closely about her, asking with
eyes and voices. Gudrid could not resist them, though she knew
Thorbeorn would be angry, and believed herself that she ought not to
have anything to do in magic. But she promised. The women made a
circle about her; she thought for a little while, then lifted her head,
and sang loud and clear--
"To Vala sang Vrind,
The first charm I wind--
What evil thou meetest
Let drop it behind.
Thyself for guide,
The ghost is defied--
Look forth
To what thou shalt find.
Next charm I call--
If despair thee befall
As thou goest thy journey,
May the Good Folk wall
With wings, with wings
Thy wayfarings--
Look forth,
Fear not at all.
This third charm I make--
If the dark thee take
On the road thou goest
For this man's sake,
May the hags of night
Do thee no spite.
Look forth,
My heart is awake.
The fourth charm I tell
Is the loosing spell--
Though they bind thee in fetters
And cast thee in cell,
No walls shall clip thee,
The irons shall slip thee--
Look forth,
All shall go well."
The song was to a strange wild air, very beautiful, known to many, of
whom many had tears in their eyes to hear it again, and sung so well.
Thorberg sat with her eyes closed, and nodded her head to the beats of
it. It made a great effect, and Gudrid was praised by everybody. When
it was over, Thorberg, being squarely on the spell-seat, said to her:
"I thank you for the song, and for the good heart which was in it. I
tell you that many beings besides those whom you see have been drawn in
by the sound of your voice, beings who without it would have passed
over our heads and paid no heed to us and our concerns. They have been
here, they are here now all about us, and by their means I see many
things clearly. And first, you, Heriolf, need not fear the death nor
the sickness which are rife at this time. They will pass with the
winter, and return again with another winter; and for a long time the
winter will be hard upon you men in Greenland."
So much she said to Heriolf, but she had not ended her soothsay. Her
eyes returned to Gudrid, who stood just below her.
"As for you, my daughter," she said, "I can read what is in store for
you as if it was written in a book. You will have three husbands here
in Greenland, and shall not go far to get them. All will be honourable
men. One will be a famous man, and one an ugly man; but he will be
kind. With all of them you will go great journeys over sea, but they
will not all last long. One journey you will go, to a country far from
here, which will be of the greatest length, and have hardships in it,
and wonders, and a good gift for you. But all your ways lead to
Iceland, and thither you will return. Out of you will come a great
race of men, and you shall end your life-days in the way that pleases
you best." Then her eyes grew less blank, and seemed able to see more
clearly. She held out her hand towards Gudrid, who stood rooted,
staring up with great eyes. "Farewell, daughter, and I give you hail,"
she said. Gudrid ran up the steps and kissed her hand.