Biorn stayed on some time longer with Eric Red, and had some talk with
Gudrid. He had had his eye on her from the beginning, with curious,
considering looks. After several attempts, swallowed down by himself
with abrupt decision, he did manage to speak out. "It was of you that
Thorberg prophesied at the Ness, I expect," he said.
"Yes, it was," said rueful Gudrid.
He tossed his foot from the knee, and looked at it swinging. "Such
things as that make a man thoughtful."
Gudrid bent over her needlework. "You may be sure that she made me
thoughtful."
"Well," said Biorn, "it is a glory to a woman to hear the like of that.
But it makes a man think twice. Now, I daresay my father spoke to you
about me, with a nod and wink, as we say? He is fond of me, is my
father."
"And you, certainly, of him," Gudrid said. "You seem to be a loving
couple."
"He spoke to me about you," Biorn went on, pursuing his own thoughts.
"He was much taken with you, and seemed to think you were singled out
for great honour. And clearly you are. But I value my life--and so I
told my father. And then he spoke scornfully to me, and hurt my
feelings." Gudrid found something to smile at in this.
But while she scared Biorn she attracted the brothers at Brattalithe,
and others besides them. Thorstan Ericsson was exceedingly shy, and
would never go into the bower to talk to the girls, nor into kitchen or
wash-house when they were working there if he could help it. So he saw
very little of Gudrid, and had nothing to say to her when he did see
her. Yet he loved her deeply within himself, in an honourable way of
worship, with no jealousy about it. Thorwald, his younger brother, was
always in and out of the women's quarters, teasing the girls, getting
in their way, and making them laugh. He was often outrageous, but they
all liked him, and Thorstan trusted in his loyalty. He told Gudrid
that Thorstan thought a great deal about her; but she knew that
already. She used to sing in the evenings when the hall was full, and
everybody praised her except Thorstan; yet she knew that he was more
affected than any one. She felt his heavy eyes on her, and used to
think of songs which would please him.
But Thorstan was dumb, and others were not. One day in the spring
Gudrid was sent for. She was in the wash-house, up to the elbows in
lather and foam, in no state for company. All the girls stopped work,
and one said, "A wooer for Gudrid," and another, "Thorstan has found
his voice." But they all helped her to make herself tidy, and wished
her joy. She went out with all her colours flying. Her father was by
the fire in the hall; Eric Red with him; and another man was standing
there, tall and heavily made, in a red cloak. She had not seen him
before. He was a dark-hued man, with bent brows, rather shaggy, and
had a black beard. He kept his head bent, and his hands behind his
back, but looked at her as she came in. So did Eric, in a kindly way.
Thorbeorn only looked at the fire.
She went up to her father and put her hand on his shoulder. There was
a short silence--but not enough time for her to collect her thoughts.
Indeed, she had no thoughts.
"Gudrid," said Thorbeorn, "we think it is time for you to be settled,
and have here an honourable man who has asked for you. He is our
friend, Thore Easterling. He is well-descended and of good estimation
with our host. His family is of Ramfirth in Iceland, and he has a fine
estate here in Ericshaven. He has the new faith which we believe to be
the true faith. Now we think you ought to feel yourself happy, being
sure that you have every reason to be so. It will be a good marriage
for you."
Gudrid said nothing, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Presently
she removed her hand from her father's shoulder, let it fall to her
side, and stood alone. It was a painful pause, felt to be so by all
four, and broken presently by Thore himself. "Lady," he said, "I hope
to have your good will in this. I have few pretentions to a lady's
liking, but believe I am an honest and friendly man. If you will
accept of my love and service I am content to trust myself to win
yours."
Gudrid's throat was dry. She had difficulty in speaking. "I shall do
my duty," she said. And then, "I shall obey my father in all things,
as I ought."
Eric went over to her and took her hand. "I won't deny I shall be
sorry to see you leave Brattalithe," he said. "I tell Thore here that
if my Leif had been at home there's no saying what might have
happened--but as it is, he's the lucky one. He will have a sweet wife,
and owe it to us that she is as happy as she is good." She gave him a
swift and searching look, a flash of gratitude in it for his humanity,
but resumed her searching of the floor. Thorbeorn rose from his chair
and said to Eric that they had better leave the pair together--but then
Gudrid looked wild. "May I not go now? Must I stay here?" Her eyes
asked so of Eric, but he only smiled. She caught at her father's
sleeve. Then Thorbeorn kissed her forehead and said a few words of
blessing. He and Eric went out together.
When they were gone Thore went over to Gudrid and put his arm firmly
round her. "I see, my dear, that you are upset by this news of ours.
Be sure that I understand it. My belief is, that you will be happy
with me. I have a good house, warm and dry. You will see company, you
will have your maids to see after; and when we have settled down
together--maybe before the end of the summer, we will take ship to
Iceland and pay a visit to my old mother who is in charge of my
property out there. Now let me hear your voice. I know how sweetly
you can talk--for I've heard you. And your singing makes me younger: a
dreamer of dreams."
He seemed kind; his arm was strong and temperate. She imagined him
much older than he was. But she didn't in the least know what to say
to him. He waited for her, still holding her close, but she said
nothing. So then: "Come, come," he said, "just a word or two"; and
when she looked up and saw him laughing, she laughed too; and then he
kissed her. "There," he said, "that is better," and drew her closer.
"You seem kind," she said.
"Ah," said Thore, "you will find me so. The fonder I grow the kinder I
shall be." He gave her a very friendly squeeze, and she began at once
to be sorry for this strong, gentle-hearted man as she thought him.
Her face was now against his shoulder, his black beard brushed and
tickled her forehead. She was rather breathless, but quite determined
to tell him her trouble. "There is something which I ought to tell
you."
"Is there, indeed? I thought that you might find your tongue perhaps,
if I gave you time."
"But I should have found it before," she said, "if it had not been for
my trouble."
"Well," he said, "and now for your trouble. Mind you, I've seen a good
deal of the world, and don't expect miracles out of the church. So if
you have had a sweetheart or two, think no more about it. Bless
you--do you think I don't know?"
"No," she said, "it's not that. But it is that I have heard prophecies
about myself. I am not a fortunate woman at all."
"Hum," he said. "Perhaps we had better clear up that. Now, you come
and sit on my knee by the fire, and let me hear all about it." She did
not decline that seat, but still she chose another. He sat in Eric's
great chair, and she brought up a stool. He noticed that, and approved
of it. "This is a girl who is not for the mere asking," he thought.
When she had told him all about Thorberg, he did not scoff, nor laugh,
nor take it seriously either. He just considered it, with one large
hand grasping his beard. "Well," he said, "some people have the gift,
there's no doubt, and if your Thorberg had it not, all her mummeries
would avail her nothing. You set them up for a deal, I fancy, but they
are little to me. I am willing to believe her story, but what then?
So long as I am the first husband you have you may have twenty when I
am gone. Likely enough that you will see to the burying of me. I must
be twice your age. So much for your trouble, my dear."
"It was horrible to me," said Gudrid; "I have been unhappy ever since.
It seemed to me that I was accursed, and that no man ought to look at
me."
"But how can they help looking at you, foolish girl, and you like a
rose!" That gave her roses indeed, and a good deal more too.
"You are certainly very kind," she said, and he replied that if that
was kindness, there need be no end to it.
She went away after a time, so free of her shadowy load that she sang
as soon as she was out of the hall. She accepted the exuberant
greeting of the girls with evident pleasure. Her colour was clear, her
eyes shone like stars. They had plenty to tell her of Thore. He was
very rich, they said, and a widower. He had had a querulous and sick
wife, and had always treated her well. He was not exactly "near," but
thought twice about what he spent. He had a stone-built house up the
country. A just man, and one who did not bend his knee to any one.
Eric Red had often quarrelled with him. Except Theodhild he was the
only Christian among the great men. It was a pity he was so much
older, with such a great beard. They wanted to know if it scratched
you, but Gudrid wouldn't say.
It was all very pleasant, except for one small matter. Thorstan
immediately went away, and stopped away for ten days or a fortnight.
No one knew exactly where he was except Thorwald his brother. He was
teasing about it, when Gudrid asked him where Thorstan was. "I shall
tell him you asked me," he said. That made her sorry she had asked,
but she did not like to say tell him by all means, nor beg him not to
tell. It turned out that Thorwald did tell him.
Freydis said, "If you must marry, that is the man you should choose.
Not a half-skald like my brother Thorstan, nor a pranking pie like
Thorwald. You will have a master in Thore, and most women like that.
He might beat you."
"I think he will not," said Gudrid. Freydis looked at her with
narrowed eyes.
"And I think that you are right. You know how to make yourself
respected, I believe. But many women like to be beaten. I know that I
should love the man who could beat me. But he would have to fight with
me first. My husband is as timid as a Norway rat. You don't see him
here often." Gudrid had never seen him. "He comes when I send for
him," said Freydis.
After that she saw Theodhild at Mass, and went home with her to her
hermitage and told her the news. Theodhild said little, but one thing
she said struck Gudrid. She said: "You will have much trouble, and
give more of yourself than you can afford. But you will leave
something to give to God at the end--more than I have left." Gudrid
said: "It is foretold of me that I shall have three husbands, then go
to Iceland and live as pleases me best." "It may well be so," said
Theodhild. "Love is all to women, but if they can love God they are
happiest. Love of man is more sorrow than joy. Love of God is pure
joy. You will find it so."
Gudrid was young enough to wonder if that was true.