XX

The winter fell upon them in bitter earnest within the next fortnight.

The snow was up to the top of the windows, and being there, froze hard,

and had to be cut away with an axe. That was how they made a road to

the byres where the stock were, and where they must be fed. The two

Thorstans worked hard at this and at fuel-getting, and hewing of wood.

Gurth the reeve helped them, but he was ailing already with the

sickness, and not much use.

Grimhild, a strong-faced, huge woman, managed all the house, but Gudrid

helped her now willingly. There were no maids there. In the evenings

they sat by the fire and told tales. It was as merry as might be, and

with Thorstan Black there was always some fun to be had. He was the

lightest-hearted man and the happiest whom Gudrid had seen in

Greenland, where mostly, it seemed, men had to fight with life at too

long odds to have any heart left over for pastime. Thorstan Black

owned to it. "There is no people but ours of Iceland, I do believe,

who would hold out against this white death," he said. "So fast as we

come we die of it. Then come others, and so the game goes on. It is

the fighting we love; we were always fighters--what with horses, or our

young men. But here we fight with the earth, sea and sky, and do

little slaughter of our own kind."

"It is the fog that kills us," said Grimhild; and Gurth smothered his

cough and hugged himself over the fire.

Gudrid said: "Why should you stay here? I think it is a terrible

country. We shall go to Wineland as soon as the spring comes." Then

she told them of that good country--of the tall trees, and the clear

sky, of the dew which was sweet to the taste, of the vines tumbling

over the hot rocks, the birds' voices in the forest, and the strange

stars at night. Grimhild was moved by the recital.

"Ay," she said, "I have heard tell of such lands, and you may see them,

being young. But this place has made me old, and almost broken my

heart. In a little while I shall ask no better than to be laid in the

snow."

Thorstan Black patted her on the back.

"Courage, old lass," he said. "You and I have seen the worst of it. I

think it may be better hereafter. As for your land of summer all round

the year, I know not that it would suit Icelanders. If you take our

hardihood from us, what have we left? That which swills and eats

heavily, and plays the mischief. Nay, give me a dark ghyll in Iceland,

with a river racing down its length, and the sea never far off. That

means more to me than your vines and soft winters. As for this

stricken land, we shall beat the sickness yet. A man tempers himself.

There should be a fine race here one day, of them who have got through."

Gurth turned up the whites of his eyes. He was very sick.

By and by they had news from the Settlement, where things were going

badly. The sickness was very rife. Many of Thorstan's men from

Ericsfrith were dead of it. They took down stores in the sleigh, and

were much concerned at what they saw and heard. The strangers from the

east were all sick; six were dead, and could only be buried in the

snow. Thorstan promised that he would take all the bodies back to

Ericsfrith if he had to heap the ship with dead men. When they

returned to the homestead the first thing they heard was that Gurth was

dead.

Gradually, as the winter thickened, gloom began to fall upon the

housemates. The hall grew cold; it was as if there were no heat in the

burning coals; as if the cold was become master of the fire. Grimhild

grew strange in her ways. She was always listening, waiting for

something. She said she expected a visitor, but would never say who it

was. She became very silent, and tried to avoid the others. Thorstan

Black told Thorstan Red that he feared the worst. "The trustiest

woman!" he said. "She has stood by me in sickness and health for

twenty years--and now she turns her back on me--hunches her poor

shoulders and will take no comfort from me. That's a sure sign of the

sickness. You distrust your old friends first." "Is that the way of

it?" said our Thorstan, with fear in his heart.

Grimhild grew more and more remote, but remained on terms with Thorstan

Red, in whom she confided some of her growing fancies. "The dead are

unquiet," she told him when she had him out of range of the others,

"and how should I be quiet? They are all about us. So soon as it

grows dusk they come out of the snow. I hear them quarrelling,

murmuring, and some of them grieve. I shall be with them soon--and

perhaps you will see me there. It has been bad enough other winters,

but none so bad as this. There are strangers here--that's how it is.

We shall never quiet them till we have burned the bodies. That's the

only way."

"They shall be burned, mistress," said Thorstan. "I will see to it."

She looked at him queerly, with one eyebrow arching into her hair.

"You?" she said, then turned away her face. "Well, well--Christ have

mercy on us."

When the fever took her and seemed to stretch her skin to

cracking-point, she would not go to bed, and nobody could persuade her.

She huddled by the fire, rocking herself, until the evening; but

directly it was dusk she was restless. The wind used to moan about the

house, and she heard in it the voices of the dead. She thought she

could distinguish one from the other. "Gurth is railing--hark to

him. . . . That was Wigfus answering, and that deep one is Kettleneb.

Oh, let me rest--have done!" She wandered forth and back, but was

mostly in the kitchen, listening at the door. Thorstan Black grieved

for her and used to try to coax her back to the fire. She scowled at

him as if he were a stranger, and would not let him touch her. Gudrid

was afraid to go near her.

Once when she was out there on a wild moon-lit night, the others by the

fire heard her cry aloud; and then she called on Thorstan. The two

Thorstans looked at each other. Thorstan Black said, "It's you she

wants. Go and talk to her." Thorstan Red went out.

Grimhild had the kitchen door open; dry snow was sweeping in upon her;

the front of her gown was white with it. "Look at them there," she

said; "look at them. Gurth is whipping them round the garth. See how

they huddle--heed their crying. There, there--and there go I among

them, wringing my hands." She clutched his arm. "Hush--and there go

you."

Thorstan's heart jumped, and then fell quiet. "Do you see me there,

mistress?"

"You are standing there in the shadow of the byre. He will not touch

you. Round and round. No rest in the snow." Then she turned to him

and screamed: "Don't let him touch me!" She caught at him and he tried

to draw her into the house; but she struggled fiercely, and before he

could stop her she was outdoors racing through the snow. Thorstan

shouted to his host, who came to him in a hurry. "She's gone," said

Thorstan Red. Thorstan Black and he went out together, but by now she

had passed through the garth and was deep in the snow beyond. They got

her home at last, but she was quite mad and fought against them all the

way.

They put her to bed and kept her there by main force until she was

exhausted. They were up with her all night, and she died in the small

hours of the morning. There was nothing for it but to bury her in the

snow.

Gudrid laid her out while Thorstan and his host were making the coffin.

She put candles at her head and feet in the Christian fashion, with a

cross of wood between her hands. Then she knelt by the bed to watch

the corpse. It was piercingly cold, and she grew numb with it, and

then drowsy. It is likely that she dropped off to sleep as she lay,

for she came to herself with a start and saw the corpse sitting up,

staring with open and glassy eyes. Her heart stood still, she neither

felt nor thought. How long they were, the living and the dead, staring

at each other, Gudrid could never have told--she was incapable of

moving, being frozen with terror and cold. Presently the dead woman's

mouth opened, as if she were going to speak; and then her head fell

forward and she dropped. Gudrid staggered to her feet and ran out of

the house. She found the men in the outhouse, and caught Thorstan

Black by the wrist. Her face told her story; it was no longer that of

a sane woman. Thorstan went back with her.

That night they buried Grimhild in the snow; and Thorstan Red took the

sickness. He told Gudrid of it when they were in bed. He held her

closely in his arms and spoke with passion: "My love, I am sick, and it

may go hard with me. Remember now what I say--that the thing which I

may be is not I. Be not afraid of it. You have had the best I could

be--and it was you who made me. Remember what we have been, and think

of me as dead already. And when I am dead, take my body back to

Ericsfrith."

She clung to him, but not with tears. Tears were denied her now. The

cold had mastered even them. For now she knew what must come.