[Illustration: PEDIGREE OF THE FAMILY OF ASMUND OF BIARG]
*GRETTIR THE OUTLAW.*
*CHAPTER I.*
*WINTER TALES.*
_The Birthplace of Grettir--The Peopling of Iceland--A History
of Quarrels--Stories Round the Hearth--Biarg--The Great Blue
Bay--The Boy Grettir--The Saga of Onund Treefoot--The Northern
Pirates--The Fight with King Harald--Onund's Wound--After the
Battle_
It was night--drawing on to midnight--in summer, that I who write this
book arrived at the little lonely farm of Biarg, on the Middle River, in
the north of Iceland. It was night, near on midnight, and yet I could
hardly call it night, for the sky overhead was full of light of the
clearest amethyst, and every stock and stone was distinctly visible.
Across the valley rose a rugged moor, and above its shoulder a snow-clad
mountain, turned to rosy gold by the night sun. As I stood there
watching the mist form on the cold river in the vale below, all at once
I heard a strange sound like horns blowing far away in the sky, and
looking up, I saw a train of swans flying from west to east, bathed in
sunlight, their wings of silver, and their feathers as gold.
I had come all the way from England to see Biarg, for there was born,
about the year A.D. 997, a man called Grettir, whose history I had read,
and which interested me so much that I was resolved to see his native
home, and the principal scenes where his stormy life was passed.
The landscape was the same as that on which Grettir's childish eyes had
looked more than eight hundred and fifty years ago. The same outline of
dreary moor, the same snowy ridge of mountain standing above it,
catching the midnight summer sun, the same mist forming over the river;
but the house was altogether different. Now there stood only a poor
heap of farm-buildings, erected of turf and wood, where had once been a
noble hall of wood, with carved gable-ends, surrounded by many
out-houses.
Before we begin on the story of Grettir, it will be well to say a few
words about its claim to be history.
Iceland never was, and it is not now, a much-peopled island. The
farmhouses are for the most part far apart, and the farms are of very
considerable extent, because, owing to the severity of the climate, very
little pasturage is obtained over a wide extent of country for the sheep
and cattle. The population lives round the coast, on the fiords or
creeks of the sea, or on the rivers that flow into these fiords. The
centre of the island is occupied by a vast waste of ice-covered
mountain, and desert black as ink strewn with volcanic ash and sand, or
else with a region of erupted lava that is impassable, because in
cooling it has exploded, and forms a country of bristling spikes and
gulfs and sharp edges, very much like the wreck of a huge ginger-beer
bottle factory.
What are now farmhouses were the halls and mansions of families of noble
descent. Indeed, the original settlers in Iceland were the nobles of
Norway who left their native land to avoid the tyranny of Harold
Fairhair, who tried to crush their power so as to make himself a
despotic king in the land.
These Norse nobles came in their boats to Iceland, bringing with them
their wives, children, their thralls or slaves, and their cattle; and
they settled all round the coast. The present Icelanders are descended
from these first colonists.
Now, the history of Iceland for a few hundred years consists of nothing
but the history of the quarrels of these great families. Iceland was
without any political organization, but it had an elected lawman or
judge, and every year the heads of the families rode to Thingvalla, a
plain in the south-west, where they brought their complaints, carried on
their lawsuits, and had them settled by the judge. There was no army, no
navy, no government in Iceland for a long time; also no foreign wars,
and no internal revolutions.
These noble families settled in the valleys and upon the fiords thought
a good deal of themselves, and they carefully preserved, at first orally
then in writing, the record of their pedigrees, and also the tradition
of the famous deeds of their great men.
In summer there is no night; in winter, no day. In winter there is
little or nothing to be done but sit over the fire, sing songs, and tell
yarns. Now, in winter the Icelanders told the tales of the brave men of
old in their families, and so the tradition was handed on from father to
son, the same stories told every winter, till all the particulars became
well known. At the same time there can be no doubt that little
embellishments were added, some exaggerations were indulged in, and here
and there the grand deed of some other man was grafted into the story of
the family hero. About two hundred or two hundred and fifty years after
the death of Grettir, his history was committed to writing, and then it
became fixed--nothing further was added to it, and we have his story
after having travelled down over two hundred years as a tradition. That
was plenty of time for additions and emendations, and the hobgoblin and
ghost stories that come into his life are some of these embellishments.
But the main facts of his life are true history. We are able to decide
this by comparing his story with those of other families in the same
part of the island, and to see whether they agree as to dates, and as to
the circumstances narrated in them.
In the north-west of Iceland is an immense bay called the Huna-floi,
which branches off into several creeks, the largest of which is called
the Ramsfirth, and the next to that is the Middlefiord. Into this flows
a river that has its rise in the central desert, in a perfect tangle of
lakes. Three rivers issuing from these lakes unite just above Biarg,
and pour their waters a short morning's ride lower through sands into
the Middlefirth.
The valley is not cheerful, running from north to south. Biarg lies on
the east side, and faces the western sun. The moor which lies behind
it, and forms the hill on the other side of the river, is not broken and
picturesque, and if it were not for the peak of Burfell, covered with
snow a good part of the year, the view from Biarg would be as
uninteresting as any to be found in the land. But then, when one rides
down to the coast, or ascends the moor, what a splendid view bursts on
the sight! The great Polar Sea is before one, intensely blue, not with
the deep ultramarine of the Mediterranean, but with the blue of the
nemophyla or forget-me-not, rolling in from the mysterious North; and
across the mighty bay of the Huna-floi can be seen the snowy mountains
of that extraordinary peninsula which runs out to the north-west of
Iceland, and is only just not converted into an island because connected
with Iceland by a narrow strip of land. That great projection is like a
hand with fiords between the fingers of land, and glacier-mountains
where are the knuckles; but the wrist is very narrow indeed, only about
one English mile across, and there lies a trough along this junction,
with a little stream and a lake in it. Now, at this wrist, as we may
call it, lies the farm of Eyre, where, somewhat later, lived the sister
of Grettir, who married a man that farmed there, named Glum.
Looking away across the great blue bay, the mountains of the hand may be
seen rising out of the sea, and looking like icebergs.
Grettir the Strong was the son of a well-to-do bonder, or yeoman, who
lived at Biarg, and was descended from some of the great nobles of
Norway. His father's name was Asmund with the Grey-head, and his
mother's name was Asdis.
He had a brother called Atli, a gentle, kindly young fellow, who never
wittingly quarrelled with anyone, and was liked by all with whom he had
to do. He had also two sisters--one was called Thordis, and she was
married to Glum of Eyre--but neither come into the story; and he had
another sister called Rannveig, who was married to Gamli of Melar, at
the head of Ramsfirth. He had also a little brother called Illugi, of
whom more hereafter. Grettir was not a good-looking boy; he had reddish
hair, a pale face full of freckles, and light blue eyes. He was
broad-built, not tall as a boy, though in the end he grew to be a very
big man.
He was not considered a good-tempered or sociable boy. He seemed lazy
and sullen; he liked to sit by the fire without speaking to anyone,
listening to what was said, and brooding over what he had heard.
If his father set him a task, he did it so unwillingly, and so badly
that Asmund Greyhead regretted having set him to do anything.
Now, during the winter, as we have already seen, when there is but a
very little daylight, and the nights are vastly long, when, moreover,
the whole land is deep in snow, so that there is no farm-work that can
be done, and no travelling about to visit neighbours, it was, and is
still, usual in Iceland for those in the house to tell tales, or sagas,
as they are called. Some of these sagas relate to the old gods of the
Norsemen, some are fabulous stories of old heroes who never existed, or,
if they did exist, have had all sorts of fantastic legends tacked on to
their histories; but other sagas are the tales of the doings of
ancestors of the family.
Now, among the sagas that Grettir used to hearken to with greatest
delight was that of old Onund Treefoot, his great-grandfather, who first
settled in Iceland. And this was the tale:
Onund, the son of Ufeigh Clubfoot, son of Ivar the Smiter, was a mighty
Viking in Norway; that is, he went about every summer harrying the
coasts of England, Ireland, and Scotland. He joined with three friends,
and they had five ships together, and one summer they sailed to the
Hebrides--which were then called the Sudereys, or southern isles. The
Bishop of the Isle of Man is still called Bishop of Sodor and Man,
because his diocese originally included the Sudereys. Then out against
them came Kiarval, king of the Hebrides, with five ships, and they gave
him battle, and there was a hard fray. But the men of Onund were the
mightiest warriors. On each side many fell, but the end of the battle
was that the king fled with only one ship. So Onund took the four
vessels and great spoil, and he wrought great havoc on the coast,
plundering and burning, and so in the fall of the year returned to
Norway. In the history of England, and in that of Scotland and of
Ireland, we read of the terrible annoyance given to the natives of Great
Britain and Ireland by the northern pirates; and, indeed, they conquered
Dublin, and established a kingdom there, and also took to themselves
Orkney. Well, when Onund returned to Norway he did not find that
matters were pleasant there; for King Harald the Unshorn had begun to
establish himself sole king in Norway. Hitherto there had been many
small kings and earls; but Harald had taken an oath that he would not
cut or trim his hair till he had subdued all under his power, and made
himself supreme throughout the land.
A great many bonders and all the little kings united against him, and
there was a great battle fought at Hafrsfiord--the greatest battle that
had as yet been fought in Norway. Onund was in the battle along with
his friend, King Thorir Longchin, and he set his ship alongside of that
of King Longchin. King Harald ran his ship up alongside of that of
Longchin, grappled it, and boarded it. There was a furious fight, and
Harald sent on board his Bearsarks, a set of half-mad ruffians, who wore
not bear but wolf skins, and who were said to lead charmed lives, so
that no weapon would wound them. Thorir Longchin and all his men were
killed; and then King Harald cut away the ship and ran up against that
of Onund. Onund was in the fore part, and he fought manfully. As the
grappling-irons of Harald caught his ship, Onund made a sweep with his
longsword at the man who threw the irons, and in so doing he put his leg
over the bulwark. Then one on the king's ship threw a spear at Onund.
He saw it flung, and leaned his head back to let it fly over him, and as
he did so one on the king's ship smote at him with a battle-axe, and the
axe fell on his leg below the knee and shore his leg off. Then Onund
fell back on board his own vessel, and his men carried him across into
that of a friend named Thrand, who lay alongside of him on the other
board. And Thrand had a great cauldron there of pitch boiled, and Onund
set his knee in the boiling pitch, and never blinked nor uttered a cry.
That staunched the blood. If he had not done this he would have bled to
death.
Now, Thrand saw that King Harald was gaining the mastery everywhere, so
he fled away with his ship and sailed west.
Onund was healed of his wound, but ever after he walked with a wooden
leg, and that is why he got the name of Onund Treefoot.
After the battle of Hafrsfiord, Onund could only return to Norway by
stealth, and he could not recover his lands there, so he deemed it
wisest for him to sail away and seek a home elsewhere. That is how he
left Norway and settled in Iceland.
And when King Harald saw himself lord and master through all the land,
then he had his hair trimmed and combed, and it was so long and so
beautiful, that ever after he who had been called "The Unshorn" went by
the name of "Fairhair," and in history he is known as King Harald
Fairhair.
*CHAPTER II.*
*HOW GRETTIR PLAYED ON THE ICE.*
_An Evil Boyhood--Golf on the Ice--Grettir Quarrels with
Audun--A Threat of Vengeance_
There are several tales told of Grettir when he was a boy, which show
that he was a rough and unkindly lad. He was set by his father to keep
geese on the moors, and this made him angry, so he threw stones at the
geese and killed or wounded them all.
The old man suffered from lumbago, and in winter when unwell asked his
wife and the boys to rub his back by the fire; but when Grettir was
required to do this, he lost his temper, and on one occasion he snatched
up a wool-carding comb and dug it into his old father's back.
Many other things he did which made those at home not like him, and
there was not much love lost between him and his father. The fact was
that Grettir was a headstrong, wilful fellow, and bitterly had he to pay
in after life for this youthful wilfulness and obstinacy. It was these
qualities, untamed in him, that wrecked his whole life, and it may be
said brought ruin and extinction on his family. There were great and
good qualities in Grettir's nature, but they did not show when he was
young; only much suffering and cruel privations brought out in the end
the higher and nobler elements that were in him.
It is so with all who have any good in them, if by early discipline it
is not manifested, then it is brought out by the rough usage of
misfortune in after life.
And now I will give one incident of Grettir's boyhood. It was a
favourite amusement for young fellows at that time to play golf on the
ice, and in winter, when the Middlefirth was frozen over, large parties
assembled there for the sport.
One winter a party was arranged for a match on the ice, and a good many
lads came to Middlefirth from Willowdale, a valley only separated from
the Middlefirth by a long shoulder of ugly moor. The Willowdales-men
had a much better sheet of water, a very large lake called Hop, into
which their river flowed, before discharging itself into the sea; and
the return match was to be played on Hop.
Among the young fellows who came from Willowdale was Audun, a fine,
strapping fellow; frank, well-built, good-looking, and amiable.
When the parties were assembled at the place, there they were paired off
according to age and strength; and on this occasion I am speaking of,
Grettir, who was fourteen, was set to play with Audun, who was two years
older than he, and a head taller.
Audun struck the ball and it flew over Grettir's head, and he missed it,
and it went skimming away over the ice to a great distance, and Grettir
had to run after it. Some of those who were looking on laughed. Then
Grettir's anger was roused. He got the ball and came back carrying it,
till he was within a few yards of Audun, and then, instead of dropping
the ball, and striking it with his golfing-stick, he suddenly threw it
with all his force against his adversary, and struck him between his
eyes, so that it half-stunned him, and cut the skin. Audun whirled his
golfing-bat round, and struck at Grettir, who dodged under and escaped
the blow. Then Audun and Grettir grappled each other, and wrestled on
the ice.
Every one thought that Audun would have the stumpy, thick-set boy down
in a trice, but it was not so; Grettir held his ground;--they swung this
way, that way; now one seemed about to be cast, and then the other, and
although Audun was almost come to a man's strength, he could not for a
long time throw Grettir. At last Grettir slipped on a piece of ice
where some had been sliding, and went down. His blood was up, so was
that of Audun; and the fight would have been continued with their
sticks, had not Grettir's brother Atli thrown himself between the
combatants and separated them. Atli held his brother back, and tried to
patch up the quarrel.
"You need not hold me like a mad dog," said Grettir. "Thralls wreak
their vengeance at once, cowards never."
Audun and Grettir were distant cousins. They were not allowed to play
against each other any more, and the rest went on with their game.
*CHAPTER III.*
*OF THE RIDE TO THINGVALLA.*
_Thorkel Mani's Find--Thorkel Krafla--The Halt at Biarg--A Bad
Prospect--Among the Lakes--The Lost Meal-bags--Suspicion
Confirmed--The Slaying of Skeggi--The Song of the
Battle-ogress--Grettir Chooses to take his Trial_
There lived in Waterdale, a day's journey from Biarg, an old bonder,
named Thorkel Krafla. He was the first Icelander who became a Christian.
In heathen times, among the Northmen as among the Romans, it was
allowable for parents to expose their children to death, if they did not
want to have the trouble of rearing them. Now Thorkel had been so
exposed, with a napkin over his face. It so happened that a great chief
called Thorkel Mani was riding along one day, thinking about the gods
that he had been taught to believe in, who drank and got drunk, and
fought each other, and, being a grave, meditative man, he could not make
out what these rollicking, fighting gods could have had to do with the
world,--with the creation of sun, moon, and stars, and the earth with
its yield. He thought to himself, "There must be some God above these
tipsy, quarrelsome deities; and this higher God must love men, and be
good and kind to men."
As he thought this, he heard a little whimpering noise from behind a
stone; he got off his horse, and went to see what produced this noise,
and found there a poor little baby, that with its tiny hands had rumpled
up the kerchief which had been spread over its nose and mouth. Thorkel
Mani took up the deserted babe in his arms, and looking up to heaven, to
the sun, said, "If the good God, who is high over all, called this
little being into life, gave it eyes and mouth and ears and hands and
feet, He surely never intended His handiwork to be cast out as a thing
of no value, to die. For the love of Him I will take this child."
Then Thorkel Mani rode home, carrying the baby in his arms; and he
called it by his own name, Thorkel; but to distinguish it from himself,
it was given the nickname Krafla, which means to rumple, because the
babe had rumpled up the kerchief, so as to let its cries be heard. So
the child grew up, and kept the name through life of Thorkel Rumple.
This Thorkel became a very great man, and Godi, or magistrate, of the
Waterdale; and, as I have said, he was the first man to become a
Christian, when missionaries of the gospel came to Iceland.
Very soon after Grettir's birth Christianity became general, and in the
year 1000 was sanctioned by law; but there were few Christian priests in
the land, so that the knowledge of the truth had not spread much, and
taken hold and transformed men's lives. Thorkel Rumple was now very old.
He was the bosom friend of Asmund, and every year when in the spring he
rode to the great assizes at Thingvalla, he always halted at least one
night at Biarg. Not only were Asmund and he men of like minds, and
friends, but they were also connected. In the spring of the year 1011,
Thorkel arrived as usual at Biarg, attended by a great many men, and he
was most warmly received by Asmund and his wife. He remained with them
three nights, and he and they fell a-talking about the prospects of the
two young men, Atli and Grettir. Asmund told his kinsman that Atli was
a quiet, amiable fellow, now at man's estate, and likely to prove a good
farmer; a man who would worthily succeed him at Biarg when he died, and
keep the honour of the family untarnished, and would enlarge the estate.
"Ah! I see," said Thorkel. "A useful man, good and respectable, like
yourself. But what about Grettir?"
Asmund hesitated a moment before answering; but presently he said, "I
hardly know what to say of him. He is unruly, sullen, makes no friends,
and he has been a constant cause of vexation to me."
Thorkel answered, "That is a bad prospect; however, let him come with me
to Thingvalla, and I shall be able to see on the journey of what stuff
he is made."
To this Asmund agreed; and right glad was Grettir to think he was to go
to the great law-gathering.
Thorkel had sixty men with him, and he rode in some state; for, as
already said, he was a great man. The way led over the great desolate
waste, called the Two-days-ride; but as on this expanse there were few
halting-places, the grass most scanty, and not sufficient to allow of a
stay, the party rode across it down to the settled lands nearer the
coast as quickly as they could, and reached Fleet-tongue in time to
sleep; so they took the bridles off their horses, and let them graze
with their saddles on. Their road had lain among the lakes, from which
issued the rivers that united above Biarg. In each lake floated a pair
of swans. Often they heard the loud hoarse cry of the great northern
diver; but there was hardly any grass, for the moor lies high, is swept
by the icy blasts from the glacier mountains to the south, and is made
up of black sand. Before them all day had stood towering into the sky
the Eyreksjokull, a mountain with perfectly precipitous sides of black
basalt, domed over with glittering ice. It resembles an immense
bridecake. At one place this mountain in former times had gaped, and
poured forth a fiery stream of lava that ran to the lakes, and for a
while converted them to steam. One can still see whence this great
fiery river issued from the mountain. Little did Grettir think then as
he passed under it, a boy of fourteen, that, for the three most lonely,
wretched years of his life, that great glacier-crowned mountain was to
be the one object on which his eye would rest.
The men were all very tired after their long ride, and they slept till
late next morning, lying about on the scant herbage, around a fire made
of the roots of trailing willows that they had dug out of the sand.
When they awoke many of the horses had strayed, and some had rolled in
the sand, burst their girths and shaken off their saddles. But they
could not have gone any great distance, for they were all hobbled. In
Iceland thick woollen ropes are put round the legs of the horses, below
the hocks, and twisted together into a knot with a knuckle-bone. This
serves as a secure hobble, and the wool being soft does not gall the
skin.
It was customary in those days for every one to take his own provisions
with him, and most of those who went to the great assize carried
meal-bags athwart their saddles. Grettir found his horse at last, but
not his meal-bag, which had come off, and was lost; for the saddle was
turned under the belly of his cob.
The horses could not have strayed far, not only because they were
hobbled, but also because the Tongue where they had been turned loose
was a narrow strip of land between two rivers; but then the slope was
considerable in places, and the meal-bag might have rolled down into the
water.
As Grettir was running about hunting for his bag, he saw another man in
the same predicament. What is more, he saw that the rest of the party,
impatient to get on their way, would tarry no longer for them, and were
defiling down the hill to cross the river.
Grettir was in great distress. Just then he saw the man run very
directly in one course, and at the same moment Grettir saw something
white lying under a mass of lava. It was towards this that the fellow
was running. Grettir ran towards it also. It was a meal-sack. The man
reached it first, and threw it over his shoulder.
"What have you got there?" asked Grettir, coming up panting.
"My meal-sack," answered the fellow.
"Let me look at it," said Grettir. "It may be mine, not yours. Let me
look before you appropriate it."
This the man refused to do.
Grettir's suspicion was confirmed, and he made a catch at the sack, and
tried to drag it away from the fellow.
"Oh, yes!" sneered the man--who was a servant at a farm called The
Ridge, in Waterdale, and his name Skeggi,--"Oh, yes! you Middlefirthers
think you will have everything your own way."
"That is not it," answered Grettir. "Let each man take his own. If the
sack be yours, keep it; if mine, I will have it."
"It is a pity Audun is not here," scoffed the serving-man, "or he would
trip up your heels and throttle you, as he did on the ice when golfing."
"But as he is not here," retorted Grettir, "you are not like to get the
better of me."
Skeggi suddenly took his axe by the haft and hewed at Grettir's head.
Grettir saw what he was at, and instantly put up his left hand and
caught the handle below where Skeggi's hand held it; wrenched it out of
his grasp, and struck him with it, so that his skull was cleft. The
thing was done in a moment, and Grettir had done it in self-preservation
and without premeditation. He was but a boy of fourteen, and this was a
full-grown stout churl.
Grettir at once seized the meal-bag, saw it was his own, and threw it
across his saddle. Then he rode after the company. Thorkel Krafla rode
at the head of his party, and he had no misgiving that anything untoward
had taken place.
But, when Grettir came riding up with his meal-bag, the men asked him if
he had left Skeggi still in search of his. Grettir answered in song:
"A rock Troll did her burden throw
Down on Skeggi's skull, I trow.
O'er the battle-ogress saw I flow
Ruby rivers all aglow.
She her iron mouth a-gape
Did the life of Skeggi take."
This sounds like nonsense; to understand it one must have a notion of
what constituted poetry in the minds of Icelanders and Northmen. With
them the charm of poetry consisted in never calling anything by its
right name, but using instead of it some far-fetched similitude or
periphrasis. Thus--the burden of the rock Troll is iron. The Troll is
the spirit of the mountain, and the heaviest thing found in the mountain
is iron. The battle-ogress is the axe which bites in battle. The
verses that the Norse poets sang were a series of conundrums, and the
hearers puzzled their brains to make out the sense. This time they soon
understood what Grettir meant, and the men turned and went back to the
Tongue, and there found Skeggi dead.
Grettir went on to Thorkel, and in few words, and to the point, told how
things had fallen out. He was not the aggressor. He had merely defended
himself.
Thorkel was much troubled, and he told Grettir that he might either come
on to the assize or go home; that this act of man-slaughter would be
investigated at the law-gathering, and judgment given upon it.
Grettir agreed to go on, and see how matters would turn out for him.
*CHAPTER IV.*
*THE DOOM-DAY.*
_The Lava Plain--The Law of Man-slaughter--Grettir's
Sentence--The Grettir Stone_
That evening they arrived at Thingvalla.
The great plain of Thingvalla is entirely composed of lava. At some
remote period before Iceland was colonized a beautiful snowy cone of
mountain, called "The Broad Shield," poured forth a deluge of molten
rock, which ran in a fiery river down a valley for some miles,
half-choking it up, and then spread out over a wide plain where
anciently there had been a great lake. Then all cooled, but after the
cooling, or whilst it was in process, there came a great crack, crack.
The great mass of lava must have been poured over some subterranean
caverns; at any rate the whole plain snapped and sank down a good many
feet, the lava becoming cracked and starred like glass. Nowadays, one
cannot cross the plain because it is all traversed with these fearful
cracks, chasms the bottom of which is filled with black water. Where
the plain sank deepest there water settled and formed the beautiful
Thingvalla Lake.
At the side of one of the cracks where the plain broke off and sank is a
very curious pinnacle of black rock, and this was called the Hanging
Rock, as criminals were hung from it over the chasm.
In one place two of the cracks unite, and there is a high mound of
blistered lava covered with turf and flowers between them. That is
called the Law Hill, because the judge and his assessors sat there, and
no one could get to them, nor could the accused get away across the
chasms.
Now it was the law at this time in Iceland that when any man had been
killed his nearest relatives came to the assize, and the slayer appeared
by proxy and offered blood-money--that is to say, to pay a fine to the
relations, and so patch up the quarrel. But if they refused the money
then they were at liberty to pursue and kill him. There were no police
then. If the relations wanted to have the criminal punished they must
punish him themselves.
Upon this occasion the case was discussed in the court on the finger of
rock between the two chasms, the people standing on the further sides of
these gulfs, listening, but unable to come a step nearer; and Thorkel
appeared for Grettir and offered to pay the blood-money. The relations
of the dead Skeggi, after a little fuss, agreed to accept a certain sum,
and Thorkel at once paid it. But the court ordered that, as Grettir had
acted with undue violence, and as there was no evidence except his word
that Skeggi had made the first attack, he should be outlawed, and leave
Iceland for three winters. If he set his foot in Iceland till three
winters had passed, his life was forfeit. He was allowed a moderate and
reasonable time for finding a ship that would take him out of the
country.
When the assize was over all rode home, and the way that Thorkel and
Grettir went was up the valley that had been half-choked with the lava
that rolled down from Broad Shield. They came to a small grassy plain
with a gently-sloping hill rising out of it, a place where games took
place, the women sitting up the slope and watching the men below. Here
Grettir is said to have heaved an enormous stone. The stone is still
shown, and I have seen it. I also know that Grettir never lifted it; for
it has clearly been brought there by a glacier. But this is an instance
of the way in which stories get magnified in telling. No doubt that
Grettir did "put" there some big stone, and as it happened that at this
spot there was a great rock standing by itself balanced on one point, in
after days folks concluded that this must have been the stone thrown by
Grettir.
*CHAPTER V.*
*THE VOYAGE.*
_Preparations for a Voyage--His Grandfather's Sword--A Bitter
Jester--Vain Reproaches--Haflid's Stratagem--The Tables
Turned--Shipwrecked_
Grettir, then, was doomed by the court to leave his native land whilst
only a boy, and remain in banishment for three years--that is to say,
till he was eighteen. He was not over sorry for this, as he was tired
of being at home, and he wanted to see the world.
There was a man called Haflid who had a ship in which he intended to
sail that autumn to Norway, and Asmund sent to him to ask him to take
Grettir out with him.
Haflid answered that he had not heard a good account of the boy, and did
not particularly wish to have him in his boat; but he would stretch a
point, because of the regard he had for old Asmund, and he would take
him.
Grettir got ready to start; but Asmund would not give him much wherewith
to trade when abroad, except some rolls of home-made wadmall, a coarse
felty cloth, and a stock of victuals for his voyage. Grettir asked his
father to give him some weapon; but the old man answered that he did not
trust him with swords and axes, he might put them to a bad use, and it
would be better he went without till he had learned to control his
temper and keep a check on his hand.
So Grettir parted from his father without much love on either side; and
it was noticed when he left home that, though there were plenty of folks
ready to bid him farewell, hardly anyone said that he hoped to see him
come home again--a certain token that he was not liked by those who had
seen most of him. But indeed he had taken no pains to oblige anyone and
obtain the regard and love of anyone.
His mother was an exception. She went along the road down the valley
with him, wearing a long cloak; and when they were alone, at some
distance from the house, she halted and drew out a sword from under her
cloak, and handing it to Grettir, said: "This sword belonged to
grandfather, and many a hard fight has it been in, and much good work
has it done. I give it to you, and hope it may stand you in good
stead."
Grettir was highly pleased, and told his mother that he would rather
have the sword than anything else that could be given him.
Haflid received Grettir in a friendly manner, and he went at once on
board; the ship's anchor was heaved, and forth they went to sea.
Now, directly Grettir got on board he looked about for a place where he
could be comfortable, and chose to make a berth for himself under a boat
that was slung on deck; then he put up his wadmall, making a sort of
felt lining or wall round against the wind and spray, leaving open only
the side inwards, and inside he piled his provisions and whatever he
had; then he lay down there and did not stir from his snuggery. Now, it
was the custom in those days for every man who went in a ship to help in
the navigation; but Grettir would not only do nothing, but from his den
he shouted or sang lampoons--that is, spiteful songs, making fun of
every man on board. They were not good-natured jokes, but bitter,
stinging ones.
Naturally enough the other men were annoyed, and they were not slow to
tell Grettir what they thought of him. He made no other reply than a
lampoon.
After the ship had lost sight of land a heavy sea was encountered, and
unfortunately the vessel was rather leaky and hardly seaworthy in dirty
weather. The weather was squally and very cold, so that the men suffered
much. Moreover, they had to bale out the water from the hold, and this
was laborious work. They had not pumps in those days.
The gale increased, and the crew and passengers had been engaged for
several days and nights in baling without intermission, but Grettir
would not help. He lay coiled up in his wadmall under the boat, peering
out at the men and throwing irritating snatches of song at them. This
exasperated them to such an extent that they determined to take him and
throw him overboard. Haflid heard what they said, and he went to
Grettir and reproached him, and told him what was menaced.
"Let them try to use force if they will," said Grettir. "All I can say
is that I sha'n't go overboard alone as long as my sword will bite."
"How can you behave as you do?" said Haflid. "Keep silence at least, and
do not madden the men with your mockery and sneers."
"I cannot hold my tongue from stabbing," said Grettir.
"Very well, then, stab on, but stab me."
"No; you have not hurt me."
"I say, stab me. Then, if the fellows hear you sing or say something
spiteful of me, and I disregard it, they will not mind so much the
ill-natured things you say of them."
Grettir considered a moment, and then, remembering that he had heard of
something ridiculous that had once occurred to Haflid, he composed a
verse about it and shouted it derisively at Haflid as he walked away.
"Just listen to him," said Haflid to the men. "Now he is slandering and
insulting me. He is an ill-conditioned cur, so ill-conditioned that I
will not stoop to take notice of his insolence. And if you take my
advice you will disregard him as I do."
"Well," said the men, "if you shrug your shoulders and pay no regard to
his bark, why should we?"
So Haflid, by his tact, smoothed over this difficulty, and averted a
danger from Grettir's head.
The weather slowly began to mend, and the sun shone out between the
clouds; but the wind was still strong, and the leak gained on the ship,
for her bottom was rotten. Now that the sun shone, the poor women who
had been aboard and under cover during the gale, crawled forth and came
to the side where the boat was, and where was a little shelter, and
there sat sewing; whilst Grettir still lay, like a dog in his hutch,
within. Then the men began to laugh, and say that Grettir had found
suitable company at last--he was not a man among men, but a milksop
among women. This was turning the tables on him, and this roused him.
Out he came crawling from his den, and ran aft to where the men were
baling, and asked to be given the buckets. The way in which it was done
was for one to go down into the hold into the water, and fill a tub or
cask and hoist it over his head to another man, who carried it up on
deck and poured it over the bulwarks. Grettir swung himself down into
the hold, and filled and heaved so fast that there had to be two men set
to carry up the baling casks, and then two more, four in all attending
to him. At one time he even kept eight going, so vigorously did he
work;--but then he was fresh, and they exhausted.
When the men saw what a strong, active fellow Grettir was, they praised
him greatly, and Grettir, unaccustomed to praise, was delighted and
worked on vigorously, and thenceforth was of the utmost assistance in
the ship.
They still had bad weather, thick mist, in which they drifted and lost
their bearings, and one night unawares they ran suddenly on a rock, and
the rotten bottom of the ship was crushed in. They had the utmost
difficulty in rescuing their goods and getting the boat ready; but
fortunately they were able to put all the women and the loose goods into
the boat, man her, and row off before the ship went to pieces. They
came to a sandy island, ran the boat ashore, and disembarked in the cold
and wet and darkness.
*CHAPTER VI.*
*THE RED ROVERS.*
_Rescued from the Holm--The Sullen Guest--The Outlawed
Rovers--Yule-tide Gatherings--The Suspicious Craft--Grettir
Guides the Rovers--The Worst Ruffians in Norway--Grettir
Entertains the Band--A Crew of Revellers--When the Wine is
in--Thorfin's Treasures--Prisoners and Unarmed--Mad with Drink
and Fury--One Against Twelve--In Hot Pursuit--The Slaughter in
the Boat-shed--The Last of the Band--Wearied with
Slaying--Thorfin's Return--A Moment of Perplexity--Better than a
Dozen Men--The Gift of the Sword_
One morning, after a night of storm on the coast of Norway, the servants
ran into the hall of a wealthy bonder, named Thorfin, to tell him that
during the night a ship had been wrecked off the coast, and that the
crew and passengers were crowded on a little sandy holm, and were
signalling for help.
The bonder sprang up and ran down to the shore. He ordered out a great
punt from his boat-house, and jumping in with his thralls, rowed to the
holm to rescue those who were there.
These were, I need not tell you, the crew and passengers of Haflid's
merchant vessel. Thorfin took the half-frozen wretches on board his
boat and rowed them to his farm, after which he returned to the islet
and brought away the wares. In the meantime his good housewife had been
lighting fires, preparing beds, brewing hot ale with honey to sweeten
it, and making every preparation she could think of for the sufferers.
Haflid and the rest of the merchants or chapmen who had sailed with him
remained at the farm a week, whilst the women were recovering from the
cold and exposure and their goods were being dried and sorted. Then
they departed, with many thanks for the hospitality shown them, on their
way to Drontheim.
Grettir, however, remained. Thorfin, the master of the house, did not
much like him. He did not ask him to stay; but then he had not the lack
of hospitality to bid him depart. In the farm Grettir never offered to
lend a hand in any of the work; he never joined in conversation, he sat
over the fire warming himself, and ate and drank heartily.
Thorfin was much abroad, hunting or seeing after the wood-cutting, and
he often asked Grettir to come with him. But he was granted no other
answer than a shake of the head and a growl. Now the bonder was a
merry, kindly-hearted fellow, and he liked to have all about him
cheerful. It is no wonder, then, that Grettir, morose and indolent,
found no favour with him.
Yule drew near, and Thorfin busked him to depart, with a number of his
attendants, to keep the festival at one of his farms distant a good
day's journey. His wife was unable to accompany him, as his eldest
daughter was ill and needed careful nursing. Grettir he did not invite,
as his sullenness would have acted as a damper on the joviality of the
banquet.
The farmer started for his house where he was going to spend Yule some
days before. A large company of guests were invited to meet him, so he
took thirty serving-men to attend on him and them.
Norway was at this time being brought into order by Earl Erik, who was
putting down with a high hand the bands of rovers who had been the
terror of the country. He had outlawed all these men, and that meant
that whoever killed them could not be fined or punished in any way for
the slaying. Now Thorfin, the farmer with whom Grettir was staying, had
been very active against these rovers, and they bore him a grudge.
Among the worst of them were two brothers, Thorir wi' the Paunch and Bad
Ogmund. They had not yet been caught, and they defied the power of the
Earl. They robbed wherever they went, burned farms over the heads of
the sleeping inmates, and with the points of their spears drove the
shrieking victims back into the flames when they attempted to escape.
Christmas Eve was bright and sunny, and the sick girl was sufficiently
recovered to be brought out to take the air on the sunny side of the
great hall, leaning on her mother's arm.
Grettir spent the whole day out of doors, not in the most amiable mood
at being shut out from the merry-makings, and left to keep house with
the women and eight dunderheaded churls. He fed his discontent by
sitting on a headland watching the boats glide by, as parties went to
convivial gatherings at the houses of their friends. The deep blue sea
was speckled with sails, as though gulls were plunging in the waters.
Now a stately dragon-ship rolled past, her fearful carved head
glittering with golden scales, her sails spread like wings before the
breeze, and her banks of oars dipping into the sea and flashing as they
rose. Now a wherry was rowed by laden with cakes and ale, and the
boatmen's song rang merrily through the crisp air.
The day began to decline, and Grettir was on the point of returning to
the farm, when the strange proceedings of a craft at no great distance
attracted his attention. He noticed that she stole along in the shadows
of the islets, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Grettir could
make out of her just this much, that she was floating low in the water,
and was built for speed. As she stranded the rowers jumped on the
beach. Grettir counted them, and found they were twelve, all armed men.
They burst into Thorfin's boat-house, thrust out his punt, and in its
place drew in their own vessel, and pulled her up on the rollers.
Mischief was a-brewing--that was clear. So Grettir went down the hill,
and sauntered up to the strangers, with his hands in his pockets,
kicking the pebbles before him.
"Who is your leader?" he asked curtly.
"I am. What do you want with me?" answered a stout coarse man--"Thorir,
whom they nickname 'wi' the Paunch.' Here is my brother Ogmund. I
reckon that Thorfin knows our names well enough. Don't you think so,
brother? We have come here to settle a little outstanding reckoning.
Is he at home?"
"You are lucky fellows," laughed Grettir, "coming here in the very nick
of time. The bonder is away with all his able-bodied and fighting men,
and won't be back for a couple of days. His wife and daughter are,
however, at the farm. Now is your time if you have old scores to wipe
off; for he has left all his things that he values unprotected, silver,
clothing, ale, and food in abundance."
Thorir listened, then turning to Ogmund he said, "This is as I had
expected. But what a chatterbox this fellow is, he lets out everything
without being asked questions."
"Every man knows the use of his tongue," said Grettir. "Now, follow me,
and I will do what I can for you."
The rovers at once followed. Then Grettir took fat Thorir by the hand
and led him to the farm, talking all the way as hard as his tongue could
wag. Now the housewife happened at the time to be in the hall, and
hearing Grettir thus talking, she was filled with surprise, and called
out to know whom he had with him.
"I have brought you guests for Yule," said Grettir. "We shall not keep
it in as dull a fashion as we feared. Here come visitors uninvited, but
merry, uncommon merry."
"Who are they?" asked the housewife.
"Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad, and ten of their comrades."
Then she cried out: "What have you done? These are the worst ruffians
in all Norway. Is this the way you repay the kindness Thorfin has shown
you in housing and keeping you here, without it's costing you anything?"
"Stay your woman's tongue!" growled Grettir. "Now bestir yourself and
bring out dry clothes for the guests."
Then the housewife ran away crying, and her sick daughter, who saw the
house invaded by ill-looking men all armed, hid herself.
"Well," said Grettir, "as the women are too scared to attend on you, I
will do what is necessary; so give me your wet clothes, and let me wipe
your weapons and set them by the fire lest they get rusted."
"You are a different fellow from all the rest in the house."
"I do not belong to the house. I am a stranger, an Icelander."
"Then I don't mind taking you along with us when we go away."
"As you will," answered the young fellow; "only mind, I don't behave
like this to every one."
Then the freebooters gave him their weapons, and he wiped the salt water
from them, and laid them aside in a warm spot. Next he removed their
wet garments, and brought them dry suits which he routed out of the
clothes-chests belonging to Thorfin and his men.
By this time it was night. Grettir brought in logs and faggots of fir
branches, and made a roaring fire that filled the great hall with ruddy
light and warmth. In those days the halls were long buildings with a
set of hearths running down the middle, and benches beside the fires.
"Now, then, my men," said Grettir, "come to the table and drink, for I
doubt not you are thirsty with long rowing."
"We are ready," said they. "But where are the cellars?"
"Oh, if you please, I will bring you ale."
"Certainly, you shall attend on us," said Thorir.
Then Grettir went and fetched the best and strongest ale in Thorfin's
cellars, and poured it out for the men. They were very tired and
thirsty, and they drank eagerly. Grettir did not stint them in meat or
drink, and at last he took his place by them, and recited many tales
that made them laugh, he also sang them songs; but they were becoming
fast too tipsy to rack their brains to find out the meaning in the
poetry.
Not one of the house-churls showed his face in the hall that evening;
they slunk about the farm, in the stables and sheds, frightened and
trembling.
Then said Thorir: "I'll tell you what, my men. I like this young chap,
and I doubt our finding another so handy and willing. What say you all
to our taking him into our band?"
The pirates banged their drinking-horns on the table in token of
approval. Then Grettir stood up and said:
"I thank you for the offer, and if you are in the same mind to-morrow
morning when the ale is no longer in your heads, I will strike hands and
go with you."
"Let us drink brotherhood at once," shouted the rovers.
"Not so," said Grettir calmly. "I will not have it said that I took
advantage of you when you were not sober. It is said that when the wine
is in the wit is out."
They all protested that they would be of the same mind next morning, but
Grettir stuck to his decision. They were now becoming so tipsy that he
proposed they should go to bed.
"But first of all," said he, "I think you will like to run your eyes
over Thorfin's storehouse where he keeps all his treasures."
"That we shall!" roared Thorir, staggering to his feet.
Then Grettir took a blazing firebrand from the hearth, and led the way
out of the hall into the night.
The storehouse was detached from the main buildings. It was very
strongly built of massive logs, firmly mortised together. The door also
was very solid, and the whole stood on a strong stone basement, and a
flight of stone steps led up to the door. Adjoining the storehouse was
a lean-to building divided off from it by a partition of planks.
The sharp frosty air of night striking on the faces of the revellers
increased their intoxication, and they became very riotous, staggering
against each other, uttering howls and attempting to sing.
Drawing back the bolt Grettir flung the door open, and showed the twelve
rovers into the treasury; and he held the flaming torch above his head
and showed the silver-mounted drinking-horns, the embroidered garments,
the rich fur mantles, gold bracelets, and bags filled with silver coins
obtained from England. The drunken men dashed upon the spoil, knocking
each other over and quarrelling for the goods they wanted.
In the midst of this noise and tumult Grettir quietly extinguished the
torch, stepped outside and ran the bolt into its place; he had shut them
all--all twelve, into the strong-room, and not one of them had his
weapons about him.
Then Grettir ran to the farm door and shouted for the housewife. But
she would not answer, as she mistrusted him; and no wonder, for he had
seemed to be hand and glove with the pirates.
"Come, come!" shouted Grettir, "I have caught all twelve, and all I need
now are weapons. Call up the thralls and arm them. Quick! not a moment
must be lost."
"There are plenty of weapons here," answered the poor woman, emerging
from her place of concealment. "But, Grettir, I mistrust you."
"Trust or no trust," said Grettir, "I must have weapons. Where are the
serving-men? Here, Kolbein! Swein! Gamli! Rolf! Confound the
rascals, where are they skulking?"
"Over Thorfin's bed hangs a great barbed spear," said the housewife.
"You will also find a sword and helmet and cuirass. No lack of weapons,
only pluck to wield them is needed."
Grettir seized the casque and spear, girded on the sword and dashed into
the yard, begging the woman to send the churls after him. She called
the eight men, and they came up timidly--that is to say, four appeared
and took the weapons, but the other four, after showing their faces, ran
and hid themselves again, they were afraid to measure swords with the
terrible rovers.
In the meantime the pirates had been trying the door, but it was too
massive for them to break through, so they tore down the partitions of
boards between the store and the lean-to room at the side. They were mad
with drink and fury. They broke down the door of the side-room easily
enough, and came out on the platform at the head of the stone steps just
as Grettir reached the bottom.
Thorir and Ogmund were together. In the fitful gleams of the moon they
seemed like demons as they scrambled out, armed with splinters of deal
they had broken from the planks and turned into weapons. The brothers
plunged down the narrow stairs with a howl that rang through the
snow-clad forest for miles. Grettir planted the boar-spear in the
ground and caught Thorir on its point. The sharp double-edged blade,
three feet in length, sliced into him and came out between his
shoulders, then tore into Ogmund's breast a span deep. The yew shaft
bent like a bow, and flipped from the ground the stone against which the
butt-end had been planted. The wretched men crashed over the stair,
tried to rise, staggered, and fell again. Grettir trod on Thorir,
wrenched the spear out of him, and then running up the steps cut down
another rover as he came through the door. Then the rest came out
stumbling over each other, some armed with bits of broken stick, others
unarmed, and as they came forth Grettir hewed at them with the sword, or
thrust at them with the spear.
In the meantime the churls had come up, armed indeed, but not knowing
how to use the weapons, and in a condition of too great terror to use
them to any purpose. The pirates saw that they were being worsted, and
their danger sobered them. They went back into the room and ripped the
planks till they had obtained serviceable pieces, and then came two
together down the stair, warding off Grettir's blows with their sticks,
and not attempting to strike. Then they forced him back and allowed
space and time for those behind to leap down to the ground. If then they
had combined they might have recovered the mastery, but they did not
believe that they were assailed by a single enemy, they thought that
there must have been many; consequently those who had leaped from the
platform, instead of attacking Grettir from behind, ran away across the
farmyard, and those who were warding off his blows, finding themselves
unsupported, lost heart, and leaped down as well and attempted to
escape. The yard was full of flying frightened wretches, too blinded by
their fear to find the gate, and in the wildness of their terror they
climbed or leaped over the yard wall and ran towards the boat-house.
Grettir went after them. They plunged into the dark boat-shed, and
possessed themselves of the oars, whilst some tried to run their boat
down into the water. Grettir followed them in the gloom, smiting to
right and left. The bewildered wretches in the darkness hit each other,
stumbled and fell in the boat, and some wounded went into the water.
The thralls, content that the pirates had cleared out of the yard, did
not trouble themselves to pursue them, but went into the farmhouse. The
good woman in vain urged them to go after and succour Grettir. They
thought they had done quite enough. It is true, they had neither killed
nor wounded anyone, but they had seen some men killed. So Grettir got
no help from them. He was still in the boat-house, and he had this
advantage: the boat-house was open to the air on the side that faced the
sea, whilst the further side was closed with a door, consequently
Grettir was himself in shadow. But the moon shone on the water, and he
could see the black figures of the rovers cut sharply against this
silver background. So he could see where to strike, whilst he himself
was unseen.
One stroke from an oar reached him on the shoulder, and for the moment
numbed his arm; but he speedily recovered sensation, and killed two more
of the ruffians; then the remaining four made a dash together, past him,
through the door, and separating into pairs, fled in opposite
directions. Grettir went after one of the couples and tracked them to a
neighbouring farm, where they dashed into a granary and hid among the
straw. Unfortunately for them most of the wheat had been thrashed out,
so that only a few bundles remained. Grettir shut and bolted the door
behind him, then chased the poor wretches like rats from corner to
corner, till he had cut them both down. Then he opened the door, and
cast the corpses outside.
In the meanwhile the weather was changing, the sky had become overcast
with a thick snow fog that rolled up from the sea, so that Grettir, on
coming out, saw that he must abandon the pursuit of the remaining two.
Moreover, his arm pained him, his strength was failing him, and a sense
of overpowering fatigue stole over him.
The housewife had placed a lamp in a window of a loft as a guide to
Grettir in the fog; the stupid house-thralls could not be induced by her
to go out in search of him, and she was becoming uneasy at his
protracted absence. The fog turned into small snow, thick and blinding,
and Grettir struggled through it with difficulty, as the weariness he
felt became almost overpowering. At last he reached the farm and
staggered in through the door. He could hardly speak. He went to the
table, took a horn of mead, drank some, and then threw himself down
among the rushes on the floor by the fire, full armed grasping the
sword, and in a moment was asleep.
He did not wake for twelve hours; but the cautious and prudent housewife
had sent out the carles in search of the pirates. The dead bodies were
found, some in the yard, some in the boat-house; then Grettir woke and
came to them and pointed out in what direction the only remaining two
had run. The snow had fallen so thick that their traces could not be
followed, but before nightfall they were discovered, dead, under a rock
where they had taken refuge; they had died of cold and loss of blood.
All the bodies were collected and a great cairn of stones was piled over
them.
When they had been buried, then the housewife made Grettir take the high
seat in the hall, and she treated him with the utmost respect, as he
deserved.
Time passed, and Thorfin prepared to return home; he dismissed his
guests, and he and his men got into their boat to return home. No
tidings had reached him of the events that had happened whilst he had
been away. The first thing he saw as he came rowing to his harbour was
his punt lying stranded. This surprised and alarmed him, and he bade his
men row harder. They ran to the boat-house, and then saw it occupied by
a vessel, on the rollers, which there was no mistaking; he knew it well,
it belonged to those redoubted pirates Thorir and Ogmund. For a moment
he was silent with the terror and grief that came on him. "The Red
Rovers!" he said, when he recovered the stunning sense of alarm. "The
Red Rovers are here--they are on my farm. God grant they have not hurt
my wife and daughter!"
Then he considered what was to be done, whether it was best to go at
once to the farm, or to make a secret approach to it from different
quarters, and surprise the enemy.
Grettir was to blame. He ought not to have allowed Thorfin to be thus
thrown into uncertainty and distress. He had seen the master's boat
round the headland and enter the bay, but he would neither go himself to
meet him on the strand, nor suffer anyone else to go.
"I do not care even if the bonder be a bit disturbed at what he sees,"
said the young man.
"Then let me go," urged the wife.
"You are mistress, do as you like," said Grettir bluntly.
So the housewife and her daughter went down towards the boat-house, and
when Thorfin saw them he ran to meet them, greatly relieved but much
perplexed, and he clasped his wife to his heart and said, "God be
praised that you and my child are safe! But tell me how matters have
stood whilst I have been away, for I cannot understand the boat being
where I found it."
"We have been in grievous peril," answered his wife. "But the
shipwrecked boy whom you sheltered has been our protector, better than a
dozen men."