They took each other by the hand and sat on a stone; and the attendants
gathered round, and the housewife told them the whole story from
beginning to end. When she spoke of the way in which the young
Icelander had led the tipsy rovers into the storehouse and fastened them
in, without their swords, the men burst into a shout of joy; and when
her tale was concluded, their exultant cries rang so loud that Grettir
heard them in the farmhouse.
Thorfin said nothing to interrupt the thread of his wife's story; and
after she had done he remained silent, rapt in thought. No one ventured
to disturb him. Presently he looked up, and said quietly, "That is a
good proverb which says, 'Never despair of anyone.' Now I must speak a
word with Grettir."
Thorfin walked with his wife to the farm, and when he saw Grettir he
held out both his hands to him, and thanked him.
"This I say to you," said Thorfin, "which few would say to their best of
friends--that I hope some day you may need my help, and then I will
prove to you how thankful I am for what you have done. I can say no
more."
Grettir thanked him, and spent the rest of the winter at his house. The
story of what he had done spread through all the country, and was much
praised, especially by such as had suffered from the violence of the Ked
Rovers. But Thorfin made to Grettir a present, in acknowledgment of
what he had done; and that present was the sword that had hung above his
bed, with which Grettir had killed so many of the rovers. Now,
concerning this sword a tale has to be told.
*CHAPTER VII.*
*THE STORY OF THE SWORD.*
_The Light on the Cliff--The Grave of Karr the Old--The Visit to
the Ness--The Chamber of the Dead--The Shape on the Throne--In
the Dead Man's Arms--A Fearful Wrestle--The Dead Vanquished--The
Dragon's Treasure--The Tale of the Sword--The Two Swords of
Grettir_
Some little while before the slaying of the Red Rovers, a strange event
had taken place.
Grettir had made the acquaintance of a man called Audun, who lived at a
little farm at some distance from the house of Thorfin, and he walked
over there occasionally to sit and talk with his friend. As he returned
late at night he noticed that a strange light used to dance at the end
of a cliff that overhung the sea, at the end of a headland; a lonely
desolate headland it was, without house or stall near it. Grettir had
never been there, and as it was so bare, he knew that no one lived on
that headland, so he could not account for the light. One day he said
to Audun that he had seen this strange light, which was not steady but
flickered; and he asked him what it meant.
Audun at once became very grave, and after a moment's hesitation said,
"You are right. No one lives on that ness, but there is a great mound
there, under which is buried Karr the Old, the forefather of your host
Thorfin; and it is said that much treasure was buried with him. That is
why the ghostly light burns above the mound, for--you must know that
flames dance over hidden treasure."
"If treasure be hidden there, I will dig it up," said Grettir.
"Attempt nothing of the kind," said Audun, "or Thorfin will be angry.
Besides, Karr the Old is a dangerous fellow to have to deal with. He
walks at night, and haunts all that headland and has scared away the
dwellers in the nearest farms. No one dare live there because of him.
That is why the Ness is all desolate without houses."
"I will stay the night here," said Grettir, "and to-morrow we will go
together to the Ness, and take spade and pick and a rope, and I will see
what can be found."
Audun did not relish the proposal, but he did not like to seem
behindhand with Grettir, and he reluctantly agreed to go with him.
So next day the two went out on the Ness together. They passed two
ruined farmhouses, the buildings rotting, the roofs fallen in. Those
who had lived in them had been driven away by the dweller in the old
burial mound, or barrow. The Norse name for these sepulchral mounds is
_Haug_, pronounced almost like How; and where in England we have places
with the names ending in _hoe_, there undoubtedly in former times were
such mounds. Thus, in Essex are Langenhoe and Fingringhoe, that is to
say the Long Barrow and Fingar's How. Also, the Hoe, the great walk at
Plymouth above the sea, derives its name from some old burial mound now
long ago destroyed.
The Ness was a finger of land running out into the sea, and on it grew
no trees, only a little coarse grass; at the end rose a great circular
bell-shaped mound, with a ring of stones set round it, to mark its
circumference. Grettir began to dig at the summit, and he worked hard.
The day was short, and the sun was touching the sea as his pickaxe went
through an oak plank, into a hollow space beneath, and he knew at once
that he had struck into the chamber of the dead. He worked with
redoubled energy, and tore away the planks, leaving a black hole beneath
of unknown depth, but which to his thinking could not be more than seven
feet beneath him. Then he called to Audun for the rope. The end he
fastened round his waist, and bade his friend secure the other end to a
pole thrown across the pit mouth. When this was done, Audun cautiously
let Grettir down into the chamber of the dead.
Now, you must know that in heathen times what was often done with old
warriors was to draw up a boat on the shore, and to seat the dead man in
the cabin, with his horse slain beside him, sometimes some of his slaves
or thralls were also killed and put in with him, and his choicest
treasures were heaped about him. This men did because they thought that
the dead man would want his weapons, his raiment, his ornaments, his
horse and his servants in the spirit world. Of late years such a mound
has been opened in Norway, and a great ship found in it, well preserved,
with the old dead chief's bones in it. When a ship was not buried, then
a chamber of strong planks was built, and he was put in that, and the
earth heaped over him. Into such a chamber had Grettir now dug.
He soon reached the bottom, and was in darkness, only a little light
came in from above, through the hole he had broken in the roof of the
cabin or chamber. His feet were among bones, and these he was quite
sure were horse bones. Then he groped about.
As his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he discerned a
figure seated in a throne. It was the long-dead Karr the Old. He was
in full harness, with a helmet on his head with bull's horns sticking
out, one on each side; his hands were on his knees, and his feet on a
great chest. Round his neck was a gold torque or necklet, made of bars
of twisted gold, hooked together behind the head. Grettir in the dark
could only just make out the glimmer of the gold, but it seemed to him
that a phosphorescent light played about the face of the dead chief.
So little light was left, that Grettir hasted to collect what he could.
There stood a brazen vessel near the chair, in which were various
articles, probably of worth, but it was too dark for Grettir to see what
they were. He brought the vessel to the rope and fastened the end of
the cord to its handle. Then he went back to the old dead man and drew
away a short sword that lay on his lap, and this he placed in the brass
vessel. Next he began to unhook the gold torque from his neck, and as
he did this the phosphorescent flame glared strangely about the dead
man's face.
Then, all at once, as both his hands were engaged undoing the hook
behind Karr's neck, he was clipped. The dead man's arms had clutched
him, and with a roar like a bull Karr the Old stood up, holding him
fast, and now all the light that had played over his features gathered
into and glared out of his eyes.
When Audun heard the roar, he was so frightened that he ran from the
barrow, and did not stay his feet till he reached home, feeling
convinced that the ghost or whatever it was that lived in the tomb had
torn Grettir to pieces.
Then began in the chamber of the dead a fearful wrestle. Grettir was at
times nigh on smothered by the gray beard of the dead chief, that had
been growing, growing, in the vault, ever since he had been buried.
How long that terrible struggle continued no one can tell. Grettir had
to use his utmost force to stand against Karr the Old. The two wrestled
up and down in the chamber, kicking the horse bones about from side to
side, stumbling over the coffer, and the brass vessel, and the horse's
skull, striking against the sides, and when they did this then masses of
earth and portions of broken plank fell in from above.
At last Karr's feet gave way under him and he fell, and Grettir fell
over him. Then instantly he laid hold of his sword, and smote off Old
Karr's head and laid it beside his thigh.
This, according to Norse belief, was the only way in which to prevent a
dead man from walking, who had haunted the neighbourhood of his tomb,
and in the Icelandic sagas we hear of other cases where the same
proceeding was gone through. The Norsemen held to something more
dreadful than ghosts walking; they thought that some evil spirit entered
into the bodies of the dead, that when this happened the dead no longer
decayed, but walked, and ate, and drank, and fought, very much like
living ruffians, but with redoubled strength. Then, when this happened,
nothing was of any avail save the digging up of the dead man, cutting
off his head and laying it at his thigh.
When Grettir had done this, he despoiled Karr the Old of his helm, his
breast-plate, his torque, and he took the box on which the feet had
rested. He fastened all together to the rope, and called to Audun to
haul up. He received no answer, so he swarmed up himself, and finding
that his friend had run away he pulled up what he had tied together, and
carried the whole lot in his arms to the house of Thorfin. Thorfin and
his party were at supper; and when Grettir came in, the bonder looked
up, and asked why he did not keep regular hours, and be at the table
when the meal began. Grettir made no other answer than to throw all he
carried down on the supper-table before the master. Thorfin raised his
eyebrows when he saw so much treasure.
"Where did you get all this?" he asked.
Then Grettir answered in one of his enigmatical songs:
"Thou who dost the wave-shine shorten,
My attempt has been to find
In the barrow what was hidden,
Deep in darkness black and blind.
Nothing of the dragon's treasure
With the dead is left behind."
By the wave-shine shortener he meant Thorfin; the dragon's treasure
meant gold, because dragons were thought to line their lairs with that
metal.
Thorfin saw that Grettir's eye looked longingly at the short sword that
had lain on the knees of Karr. He said: "It was a heathen custom in old
times to bury very much that was precious along with the dead. I do not
blame you for what you have done; but this I will say, that there is no
one else about this place who would have ventured to attempt what you
have done. As for that sword on which you cast your eyes so longingly,
it has ever been in our family, and I cannot part with it till you have
shown that you are worthy to wear it."
Then that sword was hung up over Thorfin's bed. You have heard how
Grettir did show that he was worthy to wear it, and also how Thorfin
gave it him.
Now, this tale about the sword will very well illustrate what was said
at the beginning, that the history of Grettir contains, in the main,
truth; but that this substance of truth has been embroidered over by
fancy. What is true is, that during the winter in which he was with
Thorfin he did dig into the mound in which Karr was buried, and did take
thence his treasures and his sword. But all the story of his fight with
the dead man was added. The same story occurs in a good many other
sagas, as in that of Hromund Greip's son, who also got a sword by
digging into a barrow for it. When the history of Grettir was told, and
this adventure of his was related, those who told the story imported
into it the legend of the fight of Hromund in the grave with the dead
man, so as to make the history of Grettir more amusing. As you will see
by the tale, no one else was present when it happened, for Audun had run
away, and it was not like Grettir to boast of what he had done. This
was an embellishment added by the story-teller, and from the storyteller
the incident passed into the volume of the story-writer.
Grettir had now two good swords; one long, which he called Jokull's
Gift, that he had received from his mother, and this short one that he
wore at his girdle, which he had taken out of the grave of Karr the Old,
and which he had won fairly by his bravery in the defence of the house
and family of Thorfin.
*CHAPTER VIII.*
*OF THE BEAR.*
_Grettir goes North--Biorn the Braggart--The Bear's Den--Biorn's
Feat--A Hunting Party--The Lost Cloak--Grettir Seeks the Bear
Alone--Grettir's Hardest Tussle--The Fall Over the
Cliff--Thorgils Acts as Peacemaker--Grettir Restrains Himself_
When spring came, then Grettir left his friend Thorfin, and went north
along the Norwegian coast, and was everywhere well received, because the
story of how he had killed twelve rovers, he being as yet but a boy, was
noised through all the country, and every one who had anything to lose
felt safer because that wicked gang was broken up. Nothing of
consequence is told about him during that summer. For the winter he did
not return to Thorfin as asked, but accepted the invitation of another
bonder, named Thorgils.
Thorgils was a merry, pleasant man, and he had a great company in his
house that winter. Among his visitors was a certain Biorn, a distant
cousin, a man whom Thorgils did not like, as he was a slanderous-tongued
fellow, and moreover he was a braggart. He was one of those persons we
meet with not infrequently who cannot endure to hear another praised;
who, the moment a good word is spoken of someone, immediately puts in a
nasty, spiteful word, and tells an unkind story, so as to drag that
person down in the general opinion. At the same time, concerning
himself he had only praiseworthy and wonderful feats to relate about his
wit, his wisdom, his craft, his knowledge of the world, about his
strength and courage.
Thorgils knew how much, or rather how little, to believe of what Biorn
said, and he did not pay much regard to his talk. But now Grettir had
an opportunity of seeing and of feeling how mistaken had been his
conduct on board the ship upon which he had come to Norway, when he made
lampoons on the sailors and chapmen, and stung them with sharp words.
He saw how disagreeable a fellow Biorn was, how much he was disliked,
and by some despised; and he kept very greatly to himself and out of
Biorn's way. He did not wish to quarrel with him, because he was the
relative of his host, and he was afraid that his anger would get the
better of him if he did come to words with the braggart.
Grettir had grown a great deal since he left Iceland, and he was now a
strapping fellow, broad built but not short. He was not handsome, but
his face was intelligent.
It fell out that a bear gave much trouble that winter to Thorgils and
the neighbouring farmers. It was so strong and so daring that no folds
were secure against it, and Thorgils and the other farmers endured
severe losses through the depredations of Bruin.
Before Yule, a party was formed to go in search of and kill the bear,
but all that was done was to find the lair.
The bear had taken up his abode in the face of a tremendous cliff that
overhung the sea. There was but one path up to the cave, and that was
so narrow that only one man could creep along it at a time. Moreover, if
his foot slipped he would be flung over the edge upon the rocks or
skerries below against which the waves dashed.
"When the den of the bear had been discovered," Biorn said, "That is the
main thing. Now I know where the rogue lies, I'll settle with him,
trust me. I've been the death of scores of bears. My only dread is lest
he be afraid of me, and will not come on."
And, actually, Biorn went out on several moonlit nights to watch for the
bear. He saw that the only way to deal with him would be to stop the
track from the den, and fight him as he attempted to come away. He took
his short sword and great shield with him covered with ox-hide, and one
night he laid himself down on the path of the bear, and put his shield
over him. He thought that Bruin would come smelling at the great
hide-covered shield, and then all at once he (Biorn) would spring up and
drive his sword into the heart of the bear. That was his plan--and not a
bad plan--only, unfortunately for Biorn, the bear did not come out for a
long time. He had got an inkling that a man was watching for him, so he
was shy, and whilst he waited before venturing forth, Biorn, who had
been drinking pretty freely that evening, went to sleep.
Presently the bear came out, crept cautiously down the narrow track,
snuffing about, and when he came to Biorn, he plucked with his claws at
the shield, and with one wrench had it off and tumbled it down the
cliff.
Biorn woke with a start, rose to his knees, saw the huge bear before
him, and in a moment turned tail, and ran as hard as he could run to
Thorgils' house, and was too scared to be able to boast that he had
killed or wounded the bear.
Next morning his shield was found where the bear had thrown it, and much
fun did this adventure of the braggart occasion. This made him very
irritable and more spiteful than ever.
Thorgils now said that really something must be done to rid the
neighbourhood of the bear, so a party of eight set out well armed with
spears; of this party were Biorn and Grettir. They reached the point
where the track to the den ran up the cliff to the lair, and one man
after another tried it. But there was no getting at the bear; for as
soon as a man came near the beast put his great forepaws forth and
caught and snapped the spear-heads or beat them down. As already said,
only one could crawl up at a time.
Grettir had gone out that day in a fur coat that his friend Thorfin had
given him, and which he greatly valued. When the onslaught against the
bear began, he took off his fur coat, and folded it, and put it on a
stone. Biorn saw this, and, when none observed, he took the fur coat
and threw it into the cave of the bear. Grettir did not see what had
been done till the party, disappointed with their want of success, made
ready to depart, when he missed it, and then some suspicion entered his
head as to what had been done with it, and by whom, but he said nothing.
As they walked home, Biorn began to taunt Grettir with having done
nothing all day. He could kill robbers who were unarmed and were drunk,
perhaps asleep, but a bear was too serious an adversary for him.
Grettir said nothing, but as his gaiter thong became broken, he stopped
and stooped to mend it. Thorgils asked if they should wait for him.
Grettir declined.
"Oh," said Biorn, "it is all nonsense. It is a pretence. He means to
have all the glory of fighting the bear alone when we have gone on."
He said the truth, but he had no idea when he spoke that it was the
truth.
Grettir tarried till the party had crossed a hill and was out of sight,
then he turned and went back to the bear's den. He slipped his hand
through the loop at the end of the handle of his short sword that he had
taken from the grave of Karr the Old, and let it hang on his wrist, but
he held the long sword, Jokull's gift, by the pommel. His plan was to
use the long sword if needed, but if the bear came to close quarters he
would throw it down and grasp the short one without having to put his
hand to his girdle for it. Very cautiously he crept along the path.
Bruin saw him, and was now angry and hungry, and came down to meet him.
The bear was somewhat above him; Grettir halted, and the bear stood up
growling on his hind-legs.
At once the long sword was whirled and fell on the right wrist above the
paw, and cut it off. The bear immediately fell down on all-fours; but
the amputated paw was on the side away from the wall of rock, and when
he went down on the stump he was overbalanced, and came down with his
whole weight on Grettir.
Grettir let fall his long sword at once, and with both hands grasped the
brute's ears, and held his head off lest he should get a bite at him.
Grettir, in after years, was wont to say that this was the hardest
tussle he had in his life--it was even worse than anything he had to do
with the rovers. For if the beast had but been able to nip him on the
breast, or shoulder, or face with his great fangs, all would have been
up with him. Moreover, the ears were so smooth that he had to do his
utmost not to let them slip. Grettir had the wit to drag back the
brute's head to the rock, and by so doing the bear could not use his
only uninjured fore-leg, armed with terrible claws, which would have
ripped Grettir's clothes and flesh.
In the struggle the two went over the edge, and for a moment Grettir
thought, as they spun in the air, that he was lost. But the bear was
heavier than the lad, consequently he fell crash on the rocks at the
bottom first, and Grettir on him, breaking Grettir's fall by his great
body. The bear's back was broken.
Then Grettir got up, shook himself, left the bear, went up the path and
found his fur coat torn to tatters, and he put it about him, recovered
also his long sword, and took the cut-off paw of the bear.
He now went back to Thorgils' house, and when he came into the hall
where the fires were blazing, every one laughed to see him in his
tattered coat; but when he gave the paw of the bear to Thorgils the
general merriment exchanged to surprise. Biorn, however, could not
contain himself for vexation, and launched forth some coarse jest that
made Grettir's blood tingle in his veins.
"Do not listen to him," said Thorgils. "You are a brave fellow, and
there are not many your like." Then turning to Biorn, he said,
"Kinsman, I advise and warn you to keep a civil tongue in your head, or
you will come to rue it, and have to be taught better manners."
"Oh, if I am to learn manners from Grettir, that is sending me to a cub
indeed!"
"I want to know," said Grettir, "whether you threw my fur coat into the
den?"
"I am not afraid of saying that I did."
"Will you give me another in its place?"
"I have not the smallest intention of doing charity to beggars."
The braggart knew that Grettir was restraining himself because he did
not wish to quarrel with his host's kinsman, and he took advantage of
his knowledge. But Thorgils was greatly distressed and ashamed, and he
said to Grettir:
"Pay no attention to his words. He has insulted you, and I will pay you
a fine in compensation for his insult, that it may be buried and
forgotten."
That was customary then. When one had hurt another in body or in honour
by blow or foul word, he was bound to pay a sum of money; if he did not
then the man injured was required by the laws of honour to revenge the
injury.
But when Biorn heard this proposal, he shouted out that he would not
suffer the matter to be so compromised; he was not ashamed of his words.
Thorgils drew Grettir aside, and said to him that his kinsman was a
badly-behaved, brutal fellow, but that he hoped Grettir would not take
up the quarrel in his house; and Grettir promised him solemnly that he
would not attempt to take revenge for the rudeness of Biorn so long as
they were both inmates of his house.
"As for what may happen between you later," said Thorgils, "I wash my
hands of responsibility. If Biorn is offensive to those who have never
hurt him, he must take the consequences."
So matters remained; only that Biorn, presuming on his position, became
daily more arrogant, intolerable, and abusive, so that Grettir had to
exercise daily self-restraint to keep his hands off him. And glad he
was when spring came, that he might get away to another part of Norway.
As for Biorn, he went in the summer to England in a ship that belonged
to Thorgils, trading there for Thorgils and for himself. Consequently,
all that summer he and Grettir did not meet.
*CHAPTER IX.*
*THE SLAYING OF BIORN.*
_The Meeting on the Island--Biorn's Death--Thorfin Comes to
Grettir's Aid--Grettir's Life in Danger--Hiarandi's Revenge--A
Doomed Man_
Grettir left Thorgils very good friends, and he went with some merchants
to the north, but when the summer was over he came back south, and
arrived at a little island in the entrance of the Drontheim firth. His
intention was to see Earl Sweyn, and perhaps take service under him; but
if so, things fell out other than he had reckoned. For, as he was in
this island, there came in a large merchant vessel from England, and
Grettir and those with him at once went to see the shipmen, and among
them was Biorn. The ship was, in fact, that of Thorgils, and it was
laden with commodities bought in England, or obtained by exchange for
the wool, and furs, and women's embroidery sent out in the spring by
Thorgils.
Directly Biorn saw Grettir he turned red, and pretended not to recognize
him; but Grettir went to him at once and said:
"Now has come the time when we two can settle our differences."
"Oh," said Biorn, "that is soon done. I don't object to paying a
trifle."
"The time for paying is over," said Grettir. "Thorgils offered an
indemnity for your insolence, and you refused to consent to it."
Then Biorn saw that there was no help for him but that he must fight.
So he girded him for the conflict, and he and Grettir went down on the
sand, and they fought.
The fight did not last long. Grettir's sword cut him that he fell and
died.
When the news reached Thorgils, he got ready, and came by boat as fast
as he could to see the earl at Drontheim. He found the earl very angry,
but he said to him:
"I am a kinsman of the fallen man, and I know that he treated Grettir
with intolerable insolence, and that he refused every compromise. Then
remember what a benefit has been done to the country by Grettir, who
ridded it of the Red Rovers, Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad."
Thorfin also came to Drontheim when he heard of the straits into which
Grettir had come through killing Biorn. The earl called a council on
the matter, and said he would not come to a decision till he had heard
what Biorn's brother Hiarandi had to say on the matter. Hiarandi was a
violent man, and he was very wroth. He would hear of no patching up of
the matter, and he vowed he would not, as he expressed it, "bring his
brother into his purse." As already said, it was customary when a man
had been killed to offer a sum of money to the next of kin, and if he
accepted the money the quarrel was at an end. When we now speak of
"pocketing an injury," reference is made to this same ancient usage, by
which every offence was estimated at so much money, and if the wronged
man took money for the offence committed against him, he was said _to
pocket it_. When the earl went into the matter, and heard how Grettir
had been wronged and outraged by Biorn, he gave his decision that
Grettir had not acted contrary to law, and that Biorn had justly
forfeited his life. Thorfin offered the sum of money which the earl
considered was sufficient to atone to the relations for the death of
Biorn, but Hiarandi refused absolutely to touch it.
Then Thorfin knew that Grettir's life was in danger, for Hiarandi would
certainly try to take it; so he begged his kinsman Arinbiorn to go about
with Grettir, and keep on the look-out against the mischief that
threatened.
Now it fell out one day that Grettir and Arinbiorn were walking down a
street in Drontheim when their way led before a narrow lane opening into
it. They did not see any danger in the way, and were unaware of this
lane. But just as they had passed it a man jumped out from behind, in
the shadow, swinging an axe, and he struck at Grettir between the
shoulder-blades. Fortunately, Arinbiorn had looked round at the lane,
and he saw the man leap out, so he suddenly dragged Grettir forward with
such a jerk that Grettir fell on his knee. This saved his life, for the
axe came on his shoulder-blade, made a gash that cut to his armpit, and
then the axe buried itself in the roadway. Instantly Grettir started to
his feet, turned round, and with his short sword smote in the very nick
of time as the man, who was Hiarandi, was pulling up his axe to cut at
Grettir again. Grettir's sword fell on his upper arm near the shoulder,
and cut it off. Then out rushed some servants of Hiarandi on Arinbiorn
and Grettir, who set their backs against a house-wall and defended
themselves with such valour that they killed or put to flight all who
had assailed them.
Now, this had been a base and cowardly attempt on the life of Grettir,
and Hiarandi richly deserved his fate. But the earl was exceedingly
angry when he heard the news, and he called a council together. Thorfin
and Grettir attended, and the earl angrily charged Grettir with having
committed great violence, and being the cause of the death of Hiarandi
and some of his servants.
Grettir acknowledged this; but showed his wound, and stated how he had
been attacked from behind; how his life had been saved by the
promptitude of Arinbiorn, and how he had but defended himself against
enemies who sought his life.
"I wish you had been killed," said the earl, "and then there would have
been an end to these disorders."
"You would not have a man not raise his hands to save his head?" said
Grettir.
"I see one thing," exclaimed the earl. "Ill luck attends you, and you
are doomed to commit violences wherever you are."
The end of it was that Earl Sweyn said he would not have Grettir to live
in Norway any longer, lest he should be the cause of fresh troubles.
But he remained over the third winter, and next spring sailed for
Iceland, the time of his outlawing being ended.
*CHAPTER X.*
*OF GRETTIR'S RETURN.*
_Iceland Once More--Life's Bitter Lessons--Grettir Pays Audun a
Visit--Some Icelandic Terms--Byres and Sels--A Chief's Hall--The
Return of Audun--Grettir's Second Wrestle with Audun--Bard
Interposes--The Cousins Reconciled_
When Grettir came back to Biarg, he found his father so old and infirm
as to be no more able to stir abroad, and Atli managed the farm for him
along with Illugi, Grettir's youngest brother, now grown up to be a big
boy. Grettir was now aged eighteen, but he looked and was a man.
Illugi was about fifteen, a gentle, pleasant boy. He and the kindly,
careful Atli were as unlike Grettir as well could be; they avoided
quarrels, they had a civil word for every one, and took pains to make
themselves agreeable, whether to guests in their house, or when staying
anywhere, to their hosts. Grettir never troubled himself to be courteous
or to be obliging to anyone. Now that he was back from Norway he was
rather disposed to think much of himself as a man more brave and
audacious than his fellows, for, had he not killed twelve rovers, broken
into a barrow, slain a bear, and been the death of one man in a duel,
and another who had attempted to assassinate him? Atli did not much
like his manner, and cautioned him not to be overbearing whilst at home,
lest he should involve himself in fresh troubles. But words were wasted
on Grettir. He was not the fellow to listen to advice, but one of those
men who must learn the bitter lessons of life by personal experience.
It is so with men always. Some, who are thoughtful, see what God's law
is which is impressed on all society, and listen to what others have
found out as the lessons taught them by their lives, so they are able to
go out equipped against the trials and difficulties of life. But others
will neither look nor listen, and such have to go through every sort of
adversity, till they have learned the great truths of social life, and
perhaps they only acquire them when it is too late to put them in
practice.
It is with laws and courtesies of life as with the three R's. A man
will fare badly who cannot read, write, and cipher. If he learns these
accomplishments as a child, he does well; he is furnished for the
struggle of life, and starts on the same footing as other men; but if as
a child he is morose and indifferent, and refuses to learn, then all
through his life he is met with difficulties, owing to his ignorance,
and he finds that he must learn to read, write, and do sums; and he has
to acquire these in after years with much less ease than he might have
learnt as a child, and after he has lost many chances of getting on
which might have been seized, had he known these things before.
Grettir's temper on his return may be judged by one incident that
happened almost directly. He had not forgotten his struggle on the ice
with his cousin Audun, and he was resolved to have another trial of
strength with him. So he had not been home many days before he rode
over the hill to Audunstead in his best harness, and with a beautiful
saddle on his horse that had been given him by Thorfin. The time was
that of hay, and he saw the field round Audun's farm full of rich grass,
ready to be cut. He took the bridle off his horse and turned it into
Audun's meadow. This was not out of thoughtlessness, but out of
insolence, and was intended to exasperate Audun. In Iceland grass grows
very little, and only fit to be cut for hay round the farms in what is
called the _tun_, where it is richly dressed with stable-dung.
Consequently hay is very scarce and very precious. The grass never
grows much longer than one's fingers, and so even in the tun it is not
plentiful. He knocked at the door of the farm and asked for his cousin,
and was told that Audun had gone to the highland _sel_ to fetch curds,
and would be back later. The _sel_ was a farm on the highland, only
occupied in summer, when the cattle were driven to the moors and hills
to feed on the grass there, and to save that in the lowlands against
winter.
Here a word or two must be said about Icelandic names of places and
people. When Iceland was colonized, those who first settled in the land
and built farms, called the places after their own names in a great many
cases; they called them so-and-so's _stead_, or so-and-so's _by_ or
farm. A _by_ is the Scotch byre, and in Icelandic is _boer_, pronounced
exactly like the Scotch word. Wherever, in the north and east of
England, Norse settlers came, there we find names of places ending in
the same way, and we know that these were farms and dwellings of old
Norse settlers. Thus in Northumberland, Yorkshire, and Lincolnshire,
are plenty of Norse place-names. Near Thirsk is Thirkelby or
Thorkel's-byre, near Ripon is Enderby or Andrew's-byre. Not only so,
but where there are high hills there we find also _sels_, that is
summer-farms, like the Alps to which the cattle are driven in
Switzerland. Next as to the names of people. What is a little puzzling
to remember is the number of persons whose names begin with Thor. Thor,
the god of thunder, was regarded with the highest reverence by the
Icelanders; they thought of him even more than they did of Odin, the
chief god of all, who had one eye, and his one fiery eye was the sun.
Thor was called the Redbeard, and the aurora borealis was thought to be
his waving red-beard in the sky. The thunderbolt they regarded as his
hammer. To show their respect for him, children were named after him:
Thor-grim means Thor's wrath; Thor-kel, Thor's kettle, in which the
sacrificial meat was cooked in offering to Thor; Thor-gil was Thor's boy
or servant; Thor-hall was Thor's flint spear-head, and so on. The
Northumbrian king, St. Osmund, takes his name from the Hand of God, and
the name is the same as Asmund, the father of Grettir. Oswald means the
elect of the god; in Icelandic the name would be Aswald.
When Grettir found that Audun was from home, he went into the hall and
lay down on the bench nearest the door. The hall was dark.
The halls of the Icelandic chiefs were like bodies of churches, and were
divided into a nave with side aisles; and were lighted by windows in a
clere-story that were covered with the skin of the lining of a sheep's
stomach, to let in light and keep out cold, because they had no glass.
In the side aisles were the beds of those who lived in the house, some
with doors and shutters, which could be fastened from within; and a man
in danger of his life would so sleep. He would go to bed, and then
close himself in and lock the shutters, that no one could get at him
when he was asleep. The fires and benches and tables were in the nave,
or middle of the great hall. Over the partitions for the beds were hung
shields and swords and spears, and on grand occasions hangings were put
up all along the sides, hiding the beds and berths in the side aisles.
The arrangement in an Icelandic house at the present day is much the
same, only on a very much reduced scale. The people live and eat and
sleep in the same room, like the saloon-cabin of a ship, with the berths
round the walls.
Audun arrived in the afternoon with a horse that carried curds in skins
on its back; that is to say, skins were made into bottles, as is still
common in Palestine. When he saw that a horse with a saddle on it was
wandering about in his meadow, trampling down the grass and eating it,
he was very vexed; and throwing one bottle of curd over his back, and
hanging another in front on his breast to counterbalance it, he ran into
the house to ask who had done this.
The hall was dusky, and Audun's eyes were accustomed to the bright
summer-light. As he entered Grettir put out his foot; Audun did not see
it, and stumbled over it, fell on the skin of curds and burst it. Then
he jumped up, very angry, and asked who had played him this scurvy
trick. Grettir named himself, and said he had come over about that
matter of the wrestle on the ice. Audun, still very irate, all at once
stooped, picked up the burst skin, and dashed it in Grettir's face,
smothering him with curds. Then he threw down the other curd-bottle,
and began to wrestle with Grettir. They swung up and down the hall,
kicking over the benches, now upon the floor, then on the stone-paved
fire-hearth in the midst; then they crashed against the walls and
pillars of the bed-chambers, and as they did so the shields and weapons
hung over them clashed like bells. Some frightened servant-maids came
in, and ran out again in alarm, calling for aid.
Audun felt now that Grettir had outgrown him in strength, but he would
not give in; then they slipped on the curd and both fell, parted for a
moment, rose, and flew at each other once more. Again, up and down,
banging, stumbling, writhing in each other's arms, twisting legs round
each other, to try to trip each other up, and ever Grettir bearing Audun
backwards, but never wholly mastering him. Audun could not trust his
cousin, for though they were akin, and though he had not really done him
an injury, there was no telling to what a pitch Grettir's blood might
mount and blind him; so as they wrestled, Audun took care to twist the
short sword out of Grettir's belt and throw it away. As, to do this, he
had to disengage his hand from Grettir's shoulder, he lost an advantage.
Grettir managed to trip him, and throw him flat on his back.
At that moment, fortunately, a man, big, wearing a red kirtle, and in
full harness, entered the hall and asked what was the meaning of the
noise and fight? As he did not receive an immediate answer, he came to
the rescue of Audun, and drew Grettir from him.
"We are only in play with each other," said Grettir.
"Rather rough play," said the man, "and likely to end in tears rather
than laughter."
"Who are you that interfere?" asked Grettir.
"My name is Bard."
Then Audun scrambled to his feet.
"What is the reason of this rough play?" asked Bard.
Then Grettir answered, by singing:
"Prithee, Audun, will you say
How, upon the ice one day,
You to throttle did essay?
Now, for that I this have done,
On Audun honour I have won;
Curds and wrestle make good fun."
"Oh, I see," said Bard; "fighting out an old grudge. I have nothing to
say against that. Now, shake hands, and be loving cousins again."
Audun held out his hand, and Grettir agreed to let the matter end thus.
But he was dissatisfied, and ever after bore Bard a grudge. However, he
never again wrestled with Audun, and remained on good terms with him.
*CHAPTER XI.*
*THE HORSE-FIGHT.*
_Atli's Roan--The Coming Fight--Unfair Play--Grettir
Retaliation--Smouldering Fire_
One of the rude and cruel sports that amused the Icelanders in summer
time was horse-fighting. A smooth piece of turf was chosen, and was
staked round. Into this inclosure two or sometimes more horses were
introduced, and a man attended each, who urged on his own horse, armed
with a goad. By means of these goads the horses were stung to madness,
and attacked each other, biting each other savagely. Now, Atli had a
beautiful roan, with a black mane, which he and his old father were very
proud of. Lower down the valley, near the sea, was a farm called Mais,
in which lived a bonder named Kormak, and his brother; they had in their
house a man called Odd the Foundling, a sly, captious fellow, who, like
Grettir, made verses; but his verses were not generally thought to be so
good as those of Grettir. On the opposite side of the river is a
hot-spring; it is still hot, but not so hot as it was in those days,
when it boiled up and poured forth a cloud of steam, and ran in a
scalding rill down to the river. There was a convenient level place
near the river for a horse-fight, and it stood above the water on one
side rather steeply, so that it needed only fencing on three sides.
Kormak had a brown horse that fought well, and it was resolved that
autumn to have a fight between the horse of Kormak and the roan of Atli.
Odd was to goad on Kormak's brown, and Grettir offered himself to his
brother to run with the roan. Atli did not much like the proposal, as
he feared Grettir's temper; but he could not well decline his offer, so
he said, "I will consent, brother; only I pray you, be peaceable, for we
have to do with overbearing men, and it will be very unfortunate if a
broil should come of this."
"If they begin, I shall not run away," said Grettir.
"Not if they begin; but be very careful not to provoke a quarrel."
"Quarrels come and are not made," said Grettir.
"That I do not hold," answered Atli.
The day of the horse-fight arrived, and the horses were led to the place
of contest. They had been fed up and groomed for the occasion, and each
had a band round his middle of colour, by which he who went with the
horse could hold, and the goad of each was tied with a tuft of feathers
at the head, stained the same colour as the belt about the horse.
The two horses were introduced within the inclosure, and were soon
goaded into anger, and began to plunge, and snort, and snap at each
other. The by-standers outside the railing cheered and shouted, and the
horses seemed to understand that they were to do their best; so they
pranced about each other, struck at each other, and tried to get round
each other so as to bite the flank. At one moment the roan bit the side
of the brown, and held. Odd ran his goad into the horse of Grettir to
make it let go;--this was against the rules; he did it to save his own
horse from a terrible wound. Grettir saw what he did, but he said
nothing. Now the horses bore towards the river, and were rearing and
plunging close to the edge, and the two men had much ado to hold on.
Then Odd took the opportunity when Grettir's back was turned to drive at
him with his goad between the shoulders, where was the great scar still
red, and only just fully healed, that he had received from the axe of
Hiarandi. It was a cruel blow, and this also was against all rule of
fair play.
At that moment the roan reared, and instantly Grettir ran under him, and
struck Odd with such a blow that he reeled back towards the water edge,
and in so doing dragged the brown horse he was holding over the edge,
and both went down into the water together. The river was very full
with the melted snows, and Odd was brought ashore with difficulty. It
was found that three of his ribs were broken; but whether with the blow
dealt by Grettir, or by his fall on the rock, or by the hoof of the
horse as it fell and struggled in the river, cannot be said; but the
party of Kormak, of course, charged Grettir with having broken Odd's
ribs with his stick, and they flew to arms, and threatened the party
from Biarg. However, the people of the nearest vales and firths
interfered, and no bloodshed ensued. But the men of Mais and of Biarg
separated bearing each other much ill-will, each charging the other with
having broken the laws of the sport.
Atli did not say what he felt, he was greatly annoyed; but Grettir was
less careful of his words, he said that the matter was by no means
ended, and that he hoped there would be a meeting between the men of
Mais and the men of Biarg, and then--it would not be a fight of horses,
but of men; not a biting of horses, but of sharp blades.
*CHAPTER XII.*
*OF THE FIGHT AT THE NECK.*
_The Desolate Moor--Grettir challenges Kormak--Oxmain comes on
the Scene--Slow-coach taunts Grettir--Grettir's Vexation_
The next fiord on the west of that into which the river that flowed past
Biarg poured was called the Ramsfirth, and at the head of it lived
Grettir's married sister.
In the following summer, that is in 1014, Grettir paid his sister a
visit; he had with him two servant-men from Biarg, and he spent three
days and nights at his sister's. Whilst there, news reached him that
Kormak, who had been away from Mais for a week or two, was on his road
home, and who was now staying at a house called Tongue. Grettir at once
made ready to depart, and his brother-in-law sent two men with him, for
it was not safe that Grettir should have only two churls with him, as
there was ill blood between him and Kormak about that affair of the
horse-fight.
A high, long shoulder of desolate moor lies between the Ramsfirth and
the Westriver-dale, in which is a confluent of the river that flows past
Biarg. This shoulder rises to the north into a great hump, called
Burfell, and on the saddle is a little lake. A very fine view is
obtained from this shoulder of moor over the northern immense bay of
Hunafloi, towards the glaciers and mountains of that curious excrescence
of land that lies on the north-west of Iceland. I know exactly the road
taken by Grettir on this occasion, for I have ridden over it. Along the
top of this shoulder the rocks are scraped by glaciers, that must at one
time have occupied the whole centre of the island, and have slowly
slidden down into the firths on all sides. Here, what is curious is,
that the rocks are furrowed, just as if carved with a graving tool, in
lines from south to north, showing the direction from which the glaciers
slipped down. Now, on the slope of this bit of upland is a great stone
poised on a point, which I have seen. Grettir came to this stone, and
spent a long time in trying to upset it. It is called Grettir's-heave
to this day. The men who were with him rather wondered at him why he
wasted time over this, instead of pushing on. But his sharp eye had
noticed the party of Kormak leaving Tongue, and he was bent on an
encounter. He thought that if Odd had seen him going over the hill he
would make a lampoon about him running away from his sister's house the
moment he heard that danger was threatening. So he determined to tarry
till Kormak came up and fight him. He had not long to wait, for
presently over the top of the hill came Kormak with Odd and some others.
Grettir at once rode to meet them, and said, "Now we have our weapons on
both sides, let us fight like men of good birth, and not with sticks as
churls."
Then Kormak turned to his men and bade them accept the challenge and
fight.
Accordingly they ran at one another and fought. Grettir bade his two
serving-men stand behind his back and defend that, and he, sweeping his
longsword from left to right, went forward against Kormak. Thus they
fought for a while, and some were wounded on both sides.
Now it so happened that at a rich farm in the Ramsfirth-dale lived a
well-to-do, and very strong man, called Thorbiorn--that is, Thor's
Bear--nicknamed Oxmain. He had ridden that day over Burfell-heath, with
a party, and was now returning. As he came along he heard shouts and the
clashing of arms, so he quickened his pace, and presently came in sight
of the fighters. He at once ordered his men to dash in between the
combatants. But by this time the passions of those engaged were so
furious that they would not be separated. Grettir sweeping his
long-sword about him strode forward, and the men of Kormak fell back
before him. Down went two of those who were with Kormak, and one servant
of Atli, Grettir's brother, was killed.
[Illustration: GRETTIR CHALLENGES KORMAK AND HIS PARTY.]
Then Thorbiorn Oxmain raised his great voice and roared out, that he and
his party would take sides against the first man who dealt another blow.
Grettir saw that it would hardly do if Thorbiorn Oxmain brought all his
force against him, so he gave up the battle; but they did not part till
every one of those engaged was wounded, and two were killed on one side,
and one on the other. Grettir was ill pleased that the affray had ended
in this manner, and he felt resentment against Oxmain for his
interference. Unfortunately, Oxmain's brother, who went by the name of
the Slow-coach, made fun of the matter, and laughed about Grettir
sneaking away from the fight directly he saw that he was getting the
worst of it. Whatever he said was reported at Biarg, and, as may well
be imagined, did not improve Grettir's temper, or liking for Oxmain and
Slow-coach. Nothing further occurred between him and Kormak, probably
he and Kormak were content with the trial of strength that had taken
place, and were disinclined to renew a profitless contest.
Atli took no notice of the loss of his house-churl; he desired peace,
and not a stirring afresh of the fires of discord. To his peaceable
behaviour it was doubtless due that the quarrel with Kormak came to an
end. But the vexation felt by Grettir against Oxmain for his
meddlesomeness, and against Slow-coach for his gibes, rankled in his
breast.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*HOW GRETTIR AND AUDUN MADE FRIENDS.*
_Audun's Pedigree--His relation to Grettir--Grettir's-heaves--In
Willowdale--The Place called Tongue--A very strange Tale_
Grettir remained through the autumn at Biarg, after the skirmish at the
Neck, till September, and then he thought he would ride away east and
see Audun again, with whom he had had that little ruffle that was almost
a quarrel, and which was fortunately interrupted by the entrance of
Bard. Audun was a cousin, though not a near one, and Grettir had no
desire that any bad blood should exist between kinsfolk. Audun belonged
to what was called the Madpate family; for it had had in it at least two
who had been so odd in their ways that folk said they were not quite
right in their minds. The relationship will easily be understood by a
look at the pedigree. It will be remembered that old Onund Treefoot,
who had settled in Iceland, had to wife secondly Thordis, an Icelandic
woman, and his son by her was Thorgrim Grizzlepate, and this Thorgrim
bought the estate and house of Biarg about the year 935. Onund Treefoot
died in or about 920, and then his widow Thordis married again a man
called Audun Skokull, and they had a son who was called Asgeir, who
settled in Willowdale, and either went off his head or proved so queer
in his ways that folks called him Madpate. This Madpate married and had
a son Audun, and a daughter Thurid who married away west into a very
good family; and she had a son called Thorstein Kuggson, of whom we
shall hear more presently. Audun of Willowdale's son was Madpate the
Second, and the lad Audun who wrestled with Grettir and burst the bottle
of curds was the son of this Madpate the Second. Consequently the
relationship to Grettir was through Grettir's great-grandmother, and
Audun belonged to a generation younger than that of Grettir, because
Grettir was the son of Asmund's old age. Moreover, Asmund's father
Thorgrim had married somewhat late in life, whereas all the Madpate
family had dashed into marriage at a very early age. Thus it came about
that Grettir's great-grandmother was Audun's great-great-grandmother,
and that, nevertheless, Audun was somewhat older than Grettir.
Grettir rode straight up over the hill behind his house. Now this hill
like the Neck, already described, is rather curious, for on it are a
number of rocks that have been deposited by glaciers, and not only so,
but they have been dragged along by ice, scratching the rocks over which
they were driven forward, and so these beds of rock are rubbed and
scored with lines made by the stones forced over them by ice. Above
Biarg there is one large stone that has scratched a deep furrow in the
bed of rock and then has stopped at the end of the furrow it had itself
scored. This remarkable phenomenon tells us of a time when the whole of
the centre of Iceland was covered with glaciers, like the centre of
Greenland now. These glaciers slided down the slopes of the hills, and
were thrust along to the sea, where they broke off and floated away as
icebergs.
Nowadays folk in Iceland do not understand these odd stones perched in
queer places, which were deposited by the ancient glaciers, and they
call them Grettir-taks or Grettir's-heaves. So the farmer at Biarg told
me that the curious stone at the end of the furrow in the bed of rock on
top of the hill was a Grettir-tak; it had been rubbed along the rock and
left where it stands by Grettir. But I knew better. I knew that it was
put there by an ancient glacier ages before Grettir was born, and before
Iceland was discovered by the Norsemen. I have no doubt that in
Grettir's time this stone was said to have been put there by some troll.
Afterwards, when people ceased to believe in trolls, they said it was
put there by Grettir.
Grettir's ride led him by a pretty little blue lake that lies folded in
between high hills and has a stream flowing from it into a very large
lake near Hop. But he did not follow the stream down; he crossed
another hill, not very steep and high, and reached his cousin's house at
Audun stead in Willowdale. Now this valley took its name from the woods
of willows that grew in it when first settled, but at the present day
none remain; all have in course of time been burnt for fuel, and except
for scanty grass the Willowdale is very dreary-looking. We may be sure
that Iceland presented a much more smiling and green appearance eight
hundred or a thousand years ago than it does at present.
When Grettir came to Willowdale, Audun received him in a friendly
manner, and Grettir made him a present of a handsome axe he had. He
remained with him some little while, and they talked over old tales of
Onund Treefoot and his doings, and every shadow of rivalry and anger
disappeared, so that they parted at length in the best of tempers and as
true and affectionate cousins.
Audun would have desired to keep Grettir there longer, but Grettir would
not stay. He desired to get on to the head of Waterdale, where lived an
uncle of his called Jokull, his mother's brother, at a place called
Tongue.
So he rode away over the moor, and reached Tongue. Here a stream comes
rushing through a gorge in a series of waterfalls, and meets another
stream that comes down a valley called the Valley of Shadows further
east.
Tongue is so called because it lies on a grassy slope exactly in the
tongue of land between these two streams. There is now a good farm
there and a church, and there I stayed a few days. At the back of
Tongue the hill rises rapidly to a fell called Tongue-heath. This hill
was covered with snow when Grettir arrived. This uncle Jokull was glad
to see him.
He was a rough and violent man, very big and strong; and it was clear to
everyone that his nephew took after his mother's family more than his
father's, for there was a strong likeness both in build and face and in
character between Jokull and Grettir.
He received Grettir heartily in his rough, blunt way, and bade him stay
there as long as he liked. Jokull had been a seafaring man, and had made
much by his merchant trips. He would probably have been a richer and
more respected man had he not been so violent and overbearing and ready
to pick quarrels.
Now Grettir had not been at Tongue three days before he heard a very
strange tale. Jokull's mouth was full of it, and with good reason, for
the events had taken place not an hour's ride distant. It was a tale
about the nearest farm in the Valley of Shadows, a farm called
Thorhall's-stead, which was reported to be haunted; and so serious had
affairs become there that no servants would remain, and the farmer and
his family had been driven from house and home by the hauntings last
winter, and had come and lodged with Jokull at Tongue, and he had
entertained them for some two or three months. Now this was not a case
of mere fancy and fantastic fear. It was something very real and very
marvellous. But it is a long story, and must be consigned to another
chapter.
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*THE VALE OF SHADOWS.*
_A Turning-point in Grettir's Life--The Farm in the Valley--The
haunted Sheep-walks--A strange-looking Fellow--"Here is my
Hand"--Glam keeps Faith--Glam is missing--Following the Red
Track--The Ghost of Glam--Glam's Successor--Thorgaut is
Missing--From Bad to Worse--Fate of the old
Serving-man--Thorhall's Perplexity--Grettir offers Aid_
We have come now to an incident which formed a turning-point in
Grettir's life. It is a very mysterious and inexplicable story, not one
that can be put aside as we have that of his fight in the tomb with Karr
the Old. This is a story even more gruesome. It relates to an event
that so shook Grettir's nerves that he never after could endure to be
alone in the dark, and would risk all kinds of dangers to escape
solitude. How much of truth lies under this strange narrative we cannot
now say, but that something really did take place is certain from the
effect it had on Grettir ever after.
The richest valley for grass in all this quarter of Iceland, and the
most peopled, is the Waterdale. On the east rises a mountain ridge of
precipitous basaltic cliffs, down which leap waterfalls from the snows
above. The river that flows through this valley is fed by two main
streams that unite at the farm called Tongue. The stream on the east
rises a long way inland in a mass of lava, and flows through a valley so
narrow and so gloomy that it goes by the name of the Valley of Shadows.
The high ranges of moor and waste to the south shut off the southern
sun, and the lofty banks of mountain to east and west so close it in
that it gets no sun morning or evening.
A little way up this valley--not far, and not where it is most
gloomy--are now the scanty ruins of a farm called Thorhall's-stead.
Above this the valley so contracts and the hills are so steep that it is
only with great difficulty that a horse can be led along. This I know
very well; for in crossing an avalanche slide my horse and I were almost
precipitated into the torrent below. Further up the valley stands a
tongue of high land with a waterfall on one side and the ravine on the
other, and here at one time some robbers had their fortress who were the
terror of the neighbourhood. No trace of their fortress remains at
present, but it was to find this place that I explored the valley.
In the farm that is now but a heap of ruins lived a bonder named
Thorhall and his wife. He was not a man of much consideration in the
district, for he was planted on cold, poor land, and his wealth was but
small. Moreover, he had no servants; and the reason was that his
sheep-walks were haunted.
Not a herdsman would remain with him. He offered high wages, he
threatened, he entreated, all in vain. One shepherd after another left
his service, and things came to such a pass that he determined to have
the advice of the law-man or chief judge at the next annual assize.
He saddled his horses and rode to Thingvalla. Skapti was the name of the
judge then, a man with a long head, and deemed the best of men for
giving counsel. Thorhall told him his trouble.
"I can help you," said Skapti. "There is a shepherd who has been with
me, a rude, strange man, but afraid of neither man nor hobgoblin, and
strong as a bull; but he is not very clear in his intellect."
"That does not matter," said Thorhall, "so long as he can mind sheep."
"You may trust him for that," said Skapti. "He is a Swede, and his name
is Glam."
Towards the end of the assize two gray horses belonging to Thorhall
slipped their hobbles and strayed; so, as he had no serving-man, he went
after them himself, and on his way met a strange-looking fellow, driving
before him an ass laden with faggots. The man was tall and stalwart;
his face attracted Torhall's attention, for the eyes were ashen gray and
staring. The powerful jaw was furnished with white protruding teeth,
and about his low brow hung bunches of coarse wolf-gray hair.
"Pray, what are you called?" asked Thorhall, for he suspected that this
was the man Skapti had spoken about.
"Glam, at your service."
"Do you like your present duties--wood-cutting?" asked the farmer.
"No, I do not. I am properly a shepherd."
"Then, will you come with me? Skapti has spoken of you and offered you
to me."
"What are the drawbacks to your service?" asked Glam cautiously.
"None, save that my sheep-walks are haunted."
"Oh! is that all? Ghosts won't scare me. Here is my hand. I will come
to you before winter."
They separated, and soon after the farmer found his horses; they had got
into a little wood, and were nibbling the willow tops. He went home,
having thanked Skapti.
Summer passed, then autumn, and nothing further was heard of Glam. The
winter storms began to bluster up the valley from the cold Polar Sea,
driving the flying snowflakes and heaping them in drifts at every turn
of the vale. Ice formed in the shallows of the river, and the streams
which in summer trickled down the sides were now turned to icicles. I
was there the very end of June, and then the whole of the mountain flank
to the west was covered with frozen streams spread like a net of icicle
over the black and red striped bare rock.
One gusty night a violent blow at the door startled all in the farm. In
another moment Glam, tall and wild, stood in the hall glowering out of
his gray staring eyes, his hair matted with frost, his teeth rattling
and snapping with cold, his face blood-red in the glare of the fire that
glowed in the centre of the hall.
He was well received by Thorhall, but the housewife did not like the
man's looks, and did not welcome him with much heartiness. Time passed,
and the shepherd was on the moors every day with the flock; his loud and
deep-toned voice was often borne down on the wind as he shouted to the
sheep, driving them to fold. His presence always produced a chill in
the house, and when he spoke it sent a thrill through the women, who did
not like him.
Christmas-eve was raw and windy; masses of gray vapour rolled up from
the Arctic Ocean, and hung in piles about the mountain tops. Now and
then a scud of frozen fog, covering bar and beam with feathery
hoar-frost, swept up the glen. As the day declined snow began to fall
in large flakes.
When the wind lulled there could be heard the shout of Glam high up on
the hillside. Darkness closed in, and with the darkness the snow fell
thicker. There was a church then at Thorhall's farm; there is none there
now, since the valley has been abandoned from its cold and ill name.
The lights were kindled in the church, and every snowflake as it sailed
down past the open door burned like a golden feather in the light.
When the service was over, and the farmer and his party returned to the
house, Glam had not come home. This was strange; as he could not live
abroad in the cold, and the sheep would also require shelter. Thorhall
was uneasy and proposed a search, but no one would go with him; and no
wonder, it was not a night for a dog to be out in, and the tracks would
all be buried in snow. So the family sat up all night listening,
trembling and anxious.
Day broke at last faintly in the south over the great white masses of
mountains. Now a party was formed to search for the missing man. A
sharp climb brought them to the top of the moor above Tongue. Here and
there a sheep was found shivering under a rock or half buried in a
snowdrift, but of Glam--not a sign.
Presently the whole party was called together about a spot on the
hilltop where the snow was trampled and kicked about, and it was clear
that some desperate struggle had taken place there. There the snow was
also dabbled with frozen blood. A red track led further up the mountain
side, and the searchers were following it when a boy uttered a shriek of
fear. In looking behind a rock he had come on the corpse of the
shepherd lying on its back with the arms extended. The body was taken
up and carried to the edge of the gorge, and was there buried under a
pile of stones, heaped over it to the height of about six feet. _How_
Glam had died, _by whom_ killed, no one knew, nor could they make a
guess.
Two nights after this one of the thralls who had gone for the cows burst
into the hall with a face blank from terror; he staggered to a seat and
fainted. On recovering his senses, in a broken voice he assured those
who were round him that he had seen Glam walking past him, with huge
strides, as he left the stable door. The shepherd had turned his head
and looked at him fixedly from his great gray staring eyes. On the
following day a stable lad was found in a fit under a wall, and he never
after recovered his senses. It was thought he must have seen something
that had scared him. Next, some of the women, declared that they had
seen Glam looking in on them through a window of the dairy. In the dusk
Thorhall himself met the dead man, who stood and glowered at him, but
made no attempt to injure his master, and uttered not a word. The
haunting did not end thus. Nightly a heavy tread was heard round the
house, and a hand groping along the walls, and sometimes a hand came in
at the windows, a great coarse hand, that in the red light from the fire
seemed as though steeped in blood.
When the spring came round the disturbances lessened, and as the sun
obtained full power, ceased altogether.
During the course of the summer a Norwegian vessel came into the fiord;
Thorhall went on board and found there a man named Thorgaut, who had
come out in search of work. Thorhall engaged him as a shepherd, but not
without honestly telling him his trouble, and what there was uncanny
about his sheep-walks, and how Glam had fared. The man did not regard
this, he laughed, and promised to be with Thorhall at the appointed
season.
Accordingly he arrived in autumn, and he soon established himself as a
favourite in the house; he romped with the children, helped his
fellow-servants, and was as much liked as his predecessor had been
detested. He was such a merry careless fellow that he did not think
anything of the risks that lay before him, and joked about them.
When winter set in strange sights and sounds began to alarm the folk at
the farm, but Thorgaut was not troubled; he slept too soundly at night
to be disturbed by the heavy tread round the house.
On the day before Yule, as was his wont, Thorgaut drove out the sheep to
pasture. Thorhall was uneasy. He said to him: "I pray you be careful,
and do not go near the barrow under which Glam was laid."
"Don't fear for me," laughed Thorgaut, "I shall be back in time for
supper, and shall attend you to church."
Night settled in, but no Thorgaut arrived. There was little mirth at
table when the supper was brought in. All were anxious and fearful.
The wind was cold and wetting. Blocks of ice were driving about in the
bay, grinding against each other, and the sound could be heard far up
the valley. Aloft, the aurora flames were lighting up the heavens with
an arch of fire. Again this Christmas night the dwellers in the farm
sat up and did not go to bed, waiting for the return of Thorgaut, but he
did not arrive.
Next morning he was sought, and was found lying dead across the barrow
of Glam, with his spine and one leg and one arm broken. He was brought
home and laid in the churchyard.