The spring and summer of that year passed quietly enough at
Brattalithe, but after harvest a fine ship from Norway came into the
haven and the owner came ashore. Eric Red, Lief and Gudrid rode down
to town to meet him and hear the news. He soon explained himself, for
he had a copious flow of speech. He treated Gudrid with great
deference, thinking her the lady of the land, and when it was explained
to him that she was nobody's wife, but a widow, he smiled, saying, "So
much the better," and continued to treat her as before. He was a large
man, broad-faced and broad-shouldered, with light-blue eyes, and much
fun in them. He looked at you when he spoke as if he wished to make
you laugh, but hardly hoped it.
His friends called him Karlsefne, which means "a proper man," and his
real name was Thorfinn Thordsson. "Thord of Head was my father," he
told Gudrid, "and was called Horsehead, not without reason, for I will
tell you that no man born could be more like a horse to look at than my
father was. He was the son of Snorre who was a Viking in Earl Hakon's
day; and that Snorre was the son of Thord, the first of Head." It
seemed that he was well-to-do, and that he had on board his vessel,
besides a crew of forty hands, a notable cargo of goods. He offered
Gudrid what she pleased to take of it. "I do that," he told her, "to
win your good will, for I see very well that you rule the roost
here--and rightly enough. I have never been to Greenland before, and
tell you fairly that I never knew there was the like of yourself to be
found here. If I had known that I should have been here long ago--and
then, who knows? Maybe you would not be a widow this day." He said it
as if in joke, but yet he meant it. He was greatly taken with her
beauty.
Eric offered him winter quarters at Brattalithe and he accepted it
gladly. His goods were landed, and stood in Eric's warehouse, his ship
was laid up for the winter, his men boarded in Ericshaven. As for
himself, he was very soon at home in Brattalithe, and everybody liked
him well. He was a good poet, and sang his own songs; he told tales,
he made jokes--but was always good-tempered.
Towards Christmas Eric Red, who was now very much aged and apt to worry
himself over trifles, became sad and depressed. They thought that he
was grieving for the two sons he had lost, but he would not talk to any
of them of his troubles. Karlsefne asked Gudrid what was the matter
with his host. He always talked to her when he had a chance.
She told him what she thought: "He is an old man now, and cannot help
remembering his two sons."
"That is not like an Icelander," said Karlsefne. "You yourself, lady,
show the spirit of our people better. You don't fret yourself vainly.
You were wedded to a good man. You were happy in him; he died. Well,
you have had what you have had, and if there is to be no more, you will
wait your turn. Is it not so?"
"It may be," Gudrid said. "I have learned not to build too high, by
falling so far. And I think my Thorstan is at rest. He would not be
if he were here now."
"Very likely not," said Karlsefne, "if he was of a jealous turn.
Moreover he was a poet, one who can always see in his mind a state much
better than that he lives in. That's no way to be happy. But I will
talk to Eric Red. He is friendly to me."
And so he did. "What is it, host, which makes you so heavy? Your
friends say you brood over the past, but I tell them that is not
likely."
"No, no," said Eric, "that's not the way of it at all. The present is
bad enough."
"You are treating me nobly," said Karlsefne. "I should be a churl if I
did not tell you so. What else do you need?"
Then Eric said that he was aware how his house was diminished by
misfortune. "I had a wife, but she has cut herself adrift; I have a
daughter, but she has turned sour to me. Two of my sons are dead, look
you. Now the time was when with a great houseful I could give a feast
with the best. A man is best judged by his children. If they are free
and high-hearted, he is judged a good man. But now I must receive you
with broken rites, and it hurts me to the heart that you shall sail
away in the spring of the year, and say to your friends: 'Old Eric is
down in the world. A sadder Yule than that have I never spent.' I do
what I can, but that is heavy on my mind."
"Nay, nay, friend," said Karlsefne, "that will never be the way of it.
I am better off than I hoped for--you are treating me like an earl.
Now if we are to do better and all be kings together, remember that I
have a well-found ship out yonder, with stores of corn and meal, and
malt for brewing; mead also, and smoked salmon are on board--whereof
you shall make as free as you will, and provide such a feast as
Greenland knows nothing of yet. But what a man you are to be fretted
by such a thing as that!"
Eric said that he had lived in a great way all his life, and had not
been used to stint his friends of hospitality. He thanked Karlsefne
heartily, shook hands with him, and said, "Ask of me what you will,
friend, and it shall be agreed to."
Karlsefne laughed. "Maybe I shall ask a great thing of you before I go
to sea." He had made up his mind that he would have Gudrid from him if
he could get her, but did not wish to precipitate matters and risk a
refusal. "That fair woman has a delicate mind," he thought, "and is
very religious. It will be well to make myself her friend before I
offer to be her sweetheart."
The talk at the feast turned again to Wineland, and Leif Ericsson was
eloquent about the sweetness of the air, the fertility of the soil, and
the open winter weather which he had found there. Then Karlsefne asked
Gudrid whether she would not like to go thither.
She shook her head. "Not now. Thorstan and I were on our way when the
fate turned against us, and he died. It has brought us no luck yet.
Two of Eric's sons have died for the sake of Wineland. But you," she
said, looking in his face, "you will go. I think you are a lucky man.
You have luck in your face."
"Eh," said Karlsefne, "I have thought myself pretty lucky so far; but
now I am not so sure. I have been building on my luck since I came
here. But I may get a fall."
She laughed. "You are bold, I can see, but yet you are careful too.
You do not build except on good footings."
"If you think me bold, lady," he said, with raised brows, "you will
think me too bold perhaps presently. Remember, when that time comes,
that if a man sees his profit within his reach he is a fool if he don't
stretch out his hand."
"He may be a fool," she said, "to think it so near." Her colour was
high, her eyes shone. His own, narrowed and intense, held them.
"Do you know the name I give you in my private mind?" he asked her.
She shook her head.
"I call you Constant-Kind."
"And why do you call me that? Do you think I am kind to every one?"
"I think that you have been," said Karlsefne, "and I believe that you
would not willingly deny a service if you could do it."
"And what service do you ask of me?"
"Ah, I ask none as yet. But maybe I shall."
Certainly she knew what he wanted, and wondered whether he was the man
predicted. Thorberg had prophesied an ugly man for one of her
husbands. That could not be said of Karlsefne. He was not handsome by
any means, but so full of fun that he would pass anywhere as
well-looking. She had no love to give him; all that was buried with
her doomed Thorstan; and yet she could see life to be a very pleasant
thing with him beside her--a warm, sheltered, pleasant thing. She was
rather of Freydis's opinion after an experience of two kinds of life,
that a woman was happier in being loved than in loving. She had not
thought so when Thorstan was her lover. Then her triumph and pride had
been that she could give him inexhaustibly what he needed--but look how
that had ended. She said to herself: "He will be kind to me, because
he is kind by nature. I believe that is my nature too. Therefore I
can give him what he wants, and find some comfort in it. I have known
the highest, and that is enough for me. That will never come again.
Let the other suffice, if it will satisfy him." With that she put the
thought away in her heart, wishing to leave it there; yet she could not
resist taking it out and looking at it now and again. It was still
good to be loved, good to be desired, good to be the centre of a man's
thoughts. Every time she looked at her hoard it seemed a little
brighter.
Karlsefne took his time. It was close upon the spring when he asked
her if she would have him. She met his looks calmly, and told him what
she felt about it. "I am not very old yet," she said, "but I have had
a great deal of experience. I have been married twice, and loved
deeply once. That can never be again."
"Nay," he said, "I don't ask impossibilities of you. But I have love
enough in my heart for the two of us. Do you trust me?"
"Yes," she said, "I do trust you."
"Why then," said Karlsefne, "will you give yourself to me?"
She thought. "You shall ask Eric if he is willing," she told him. "He
loves me, and he is an old man. Since my father died he has been
father to me. I have had nothing but love and kindness from him and
his family. I will not leave him now, if he needs me--for he knows,
and I know, that if I leave him again it will be for the last time."
Karlsefne drew near her and put his arm about her. "I will ask
him--but if he agrees you will come?" She smiled and nodded her head.
Then, "Will you kiss me?" he said.
"Is that in the bargain?"
He drew her close to him. "Oh, Gudrid, kiss me once. I'm on fire."
So then she kissed him.
Eric looked rather chap-fallen. "You are asking me for the jewel on my
breast," he said.
"That I know very well," said Karlsefne.
"She is not only a fair woman, but a wise and good woman. She is
sweet-mannered, and sweet-natured. The soothsay about her is that she
will rear a great race."
"She shall, if I have anything to do with it," said Karlsefne. "You
know the name they give me."
"I think highly of you," Eric allowed. "Everything speaks well for
you. But I will tell you this. If my son Leif were not entangled with
a foreign woman, an earl's daughter by whom he has got a son, it would
have been my joy to see him take Gudrid and rear that great race to my
name. But it may well be that she will fulfil her destiny with you
rather."
"I believe she will," said Karlsefne. "The moment I clapped eyes on
her I said to myself, 'There stands before you the sweetest woman that
lightens the world.' And I have had no other thought or desire since
which has not drawn me to her. If you will give her to me you will do
me the utmost service one man can do another. And she will come to me
if you say the word. I tell you that."
Eric said it should be as he wished. The last feast that fine old man
was ever to see was that which he made for Gudrid's wedding with
Karlsefne.