PHILIP AND THE OUTLAWS OF THE ISLAND
That winter when Philip was ill, for the first time, I used to spend
every evening at Abercorran House, chiefly upstairs, reading aloud
or talking. I was supposed to entertain him, but he did most of the
entertaining. Out of his own head or out of books he told me hundreds
of tales; in either case they were very much his own. I cannot imitate
him. For example, he would always bring his characters before himself
and his listener by comparing them to persons known to both. When he
was well and out of doors he would pick out a man or woman passing
us, or at a window, for a comparison. “This Palomides,” he would say,
“was like that butcher, but dressed differently: you could see what
good legs he had.” Another was “like my brother Roland, and if he had
been alive now he could have jumped over spiked railings up to his own
shoulder, though he was not a little man.” The Icelandic Thorbeorg was
“like our Jessie: only she would use a knife, and she had fair hair.”
A certain villain was “a scoundrel, _but_ he had a face like Higgs.”
The man who resembled Roland was an Icelander, Haurd by name, whom
Philip called Roland throughout the tale. Thorbeorg was his sister.
This was the tale:
Haurd was a head taller than most men, and he had grand hair. He was
clever, strong, and bold. He swam better than all others, and his
eyesight was wonderful. But he was a touchy man. Not being asked in
the proper manner to his sister Thurid’s wedding feast, he refused
to go when the bridegroom, Illuge, came on purpose to fetch him. Yet
a little after, when Geir, his own foster-brother, asked him to go
just to please him, he went. However, at the feast he treated Illuge
lightly; refused the present of a shield--accepted a ring, but with
the remark that in his opinion being a brother-in-law would not mean
much to Illuge. Hearing Haurd say such things in a lazy way for no
apparent reason and taken aback by it, he did not answer. As soon as
he got home, Haurd gave the ring to his sister, Thorbeorg, bidding her
remember him when he was dead. Soon afterwards, with Geir and his other
foster-brother, Helge, who was a tramp’s son, he left home.
Twenty years before that, when Thorbeorg’s mother Signy was married to
Grimkel, her brother Torfe took offence in the same way, because he was
not consulted. Signy was very fond of him, and it was at his house that
she gave birth to Thorbeorg and died the same day. Grief for his sister
made him hate the child; he cast it out of the house, and chance alone
saved its life. Thus Grimkel had a quarrel with Torfe over Signy’s
marriage portion and the injury to his child, Thorbeorg.
Fifteen years Haurd stayed away from home. He got renown as a fighter.
He won honour, wealth, and an earl’s daughter, Helga, for a wife. This
Helga was as noble a lady as Thorbeorg.
Geir was the first of the exiles to return. He went to take possession
of the farm at Netherbottom, on the death of Grim, his father. Here
now, with Geir, were living his old mother and Thorbeorg, Haurd’s
sister. Perhaps Geir wished to marry Thorbeorg, but he was not the
king of men she wanted, though he was honest and feared nothing; so he
did not win her. She preferred one named Eindride, who came wooing her
once in Geir’s absence. She was not in love with him, but her father,
Grimkel, liked the match, and maybe she expected to be freer. When the
wedding was over Grimkel consulted a witch about the future. Whatever
she answered, it was bad, and the old man died that evening. Until his
son, Haurd, came back, Grimkel’s property fell into the care of the two
sons-in-law, Illuge and Eindride.
Haurd came back with Helge, with Sigrod his uncle, Torfe’s foster-son,
and thirty followers. The quarrel with Torfe and Illuge soon had an
opportunity of growing. In a fit of anger Helge killed a boy for
injuring a horse which belonged to Haurd. Haurd offered to atone for
the crime to Ead, the boy’s father, but too late. Torfe, replied the
man, had already listened to his complaint and was taking up the case.
At this, Haurd drew his sword in fury and hewed the man in two and a
servant with him. He burnt Ead’s homestead, his stores, and two women
who were afraid to come out of hiding.
Haurd would have liked to win over to his part his sister Thorbeorg’s
husband, Eindride, but instead of going himself he sent Helge. If a
good man had come, said Thorbeorg afterwards, things might have turned
out differently. Eindride excused himself on account of an engagement
with Illuge; not content to let this end the matter, he suggested that
Haurd should come over himself. Helge turned upon him and taunted him
with being a craven if he would not break that engagement with Illuge,
but Eindride had nothing to add. All that Helge brought back to Haurd
was that Eindride offered no help.
Everyone being against them, Haurd and Helge were outlawed. They had to
quit the homestead, and rather than leave it for Torfe, they burnt it
and all the hay with it. They and the household took refuge at Geir’s
house, Netherbottom. From here they raided the country on every side,
carrying off whatever they wanted. Before long men gathered together
to subdue them. Geir was for making a fort against the attack. Haurd,
fearing that they would be starved out, proposed retreating to an
impregnable islet which lay not far from land by a river’s mouth. Haurd
prevailed and they took possession. The islet consisted of precipices
surmounted by a single level platform, “not half the size of the
Wilderness,” from which one steep pathway led to the sea. With timber
from Netherbottom, the outlaws built a hall on this platform; and it
had underground passages. The islet was called Geir’s Holm, and they
raided from it as they had done before, both craftily and boldly. Once
on the islet they were safe from any attack. “It was the very place for
Lewis,” said Philip; “only there was no water in it, and no food unless
there were sea-gulls’ eggs.”
Many of the landless and outlawed men of Iceland attached themselves
to Haurd and Geir, swearing to be faithful to these two and to one
another, and to share in all labours. It was a law of Geir’s Holm that
if a man was ill more than three nights he was to be thrown over the
cliffs. The most that were on the island at one time was two hundred,
the least eighty. Haurd, Geir, Sigrod, Helge, Thord Colt, and Thorgar
Girdlebeard, were the chief men. The cruellest of all was Thorgar, and
the readiest for every kind of wrongdoing.
At last men met together to consider how they might stop the raiding.
Thorbeorg would not be left behind by Eindride, though he warned her
that she would hear nothing pleasant at the meeting. The crowd became
silent as she entered, and she spoke immediately to some of the chief
men.... Here, Philip got up out of bed looking very grim while he
uttered the words of Thorbeorg: “I know what you want to do. Very
good. I cannot stop you by myself. But this I can do, and will--I will
be the death of the man who kills Haurd....” Philip stood entranced and
still as a statue at the window, as if he could see her so long as he
remained still. His weakness, however, made him totter, and he got into
bed, saying: “She was magnificent. I would have done anything for her.
She said nothing else. She rode away without waiting for an answer.”
Torfe advised swift and violent measures against the Islanders, but
when Ref suggested that someone should put them off their guard by
pretending that they were free to go where they wished and be at peace
with all men, he thought well of the plan: in fact he said they should
ride that very night to a place out of sight of the Islanders. Next day
they saw Thorgar and Sigrod with twelve other outlaws coming for water.
Twice their number were sent against them. Thorgar and seven others
ran away. He formed a band of his own and was only killed after a long
freedom. Sigrod and those who were left made a hard fight, but all were
killed.
It was not easy to get a man to go next day and play the traitor on
the Holm, although Torfe declared that whoever went would have great
honour. In the end, Ref’s brother, Kiartan, offered to go, if he could
have Haurd’s ring for a reward. He took the boat of Thorstan Goldknop,
both because he disliked that man and because, being his, it would
not excite suspicion. The story he told the outlaws was that, chiefly
through Illuge and his friends, it had been decided that they should be
free to go where they wished and have peace. If they agreed, he himself
would row them ashore. Geir believed Kiartan, especially as he came in
the boat of one who was sworn never to betray them. Many others also
were eager to leave. But Haurd thought that Kiartan did not look like
a man who was bringing good, and he said so. Kiartan offered to swear
that he was speaking truth, and still Haurd told him that he had the
eyes of a man whose word was not worth much. Haurd did not hide his
doubts. Nevertheless, a full boat-load went off with Kiartan, talking
cheerfully. They were landed out of sight of the Holm, and every one of
them was penned in and killed on the spot.
Kiartan returned for a second load. In spite of Haurd’s advice, Geir
now entered the boat. So many followed him that only six were left with
Haurd and Helga and their two sons, and Helge, Haurd’s foster-brother.
Haurd was sad to see the boat going, and Geir and his companions were
silent. When they rounded the spit, out of sight of those on the Holm,
they saw the enemy waiting. Close to land Geir sprang overboard and
swam out along the rocks. A man of Eindride’s company struck him with a
javelin between the shoulders, and he died. This Helga saw sitting on
the Holm; but Haurd, who was with her, saw differently. The rest were
penned in and butchered.
A third time Kiartan rowed out. Haurd bantered him for a ferryman who
was doing a good trade, but still stuck to the opinion that he was not
a true man. If Kiartan had not taunted him with being afraid to follow
his men, Haurd would never have gone in that boat. Helga would not
go, nor let her sons go. She wept over her husband as a doomed man.
Once the boat had put out he was angry with himself. When they came
alongside the rocks and saw the dead body of Geir, Huard stood up in
the boat and clove Kiartan down as far as the girdle with his sword.
The men on shore made friendly signs to the last, but as soon as the
boat touched land all were made prisoners except Haurd, who refused to
be taken until he had slain four men. Eindride, who first laid hands
on him, remembering what Thorbeorg had promised her brother’s murderer,
held out the axe for someone else to slaughter him; but no one would;
and it was Haurd himself that seized the axe, for he burst his bonds.
Helge followed, and they got away, though the ring of enemies was
three deep. Haurd would never have been overtaken, though Ref was on
horseback, if a spell had not been cast on him: moreover, Helge began
to limp with a fearful wound. Even so, Haurd again broke through them,
killing three more. Ref again caught him, yet dared not meddle with
him, though he now had Helge on his back, until the others made a ring
about him with the aid of a spell. There was nothing for it but to drop
Helge and save him from his enemies by killing him. Haurd was enraged
because he knew that a spell was being used on him; he was so fearful
to look at that no one would go for him until Torfe had promised
Haurd’s ring to the man who did. Almost a dozen set on him together to
earn the ring. Six of them had fallen before him when the head flew
off his axe; nor did any one venture even then to close with him. From
behind, however, Thorstan Goldknop, a big red-headed man, but mean,
swung at his neck with an axe, so that he died. He had killed sixteen
men altogether. Even his enemies said now that Haurd--Philip, in tears,
said Roland, not Haurd--had been the bravest man of his time. If he had
not had rogues among his followers he would have been living yet; but
he never had been a lucky man. Thorstan got his ring. At that time he
had not heard of Thorbeorg’s vow; when he did hear he took no pleasure
in the ring.
Sixty of the Islanders had been slain. All the rest had escaped,
except Helga, and the two sons of Helga and Haurd, who had stayed on
the island. It was too late to fetch away those three that evening,
and before the sunrise next day they also had escaped. Under cover of
darkness the mother swam over first with Beorn, who was four, and next
with Grimkel, who was eight. Then carrying Beorn and leading Grimkel by
the hand, Helga climbed over the hills until they came to Eindride’s
house. Under the fence of the yard, Helga sank down with Beorn. Grimkel
she sent up to Thorbeorg to ask her to save them. Haurd’s sister was
sitting alone at the end of the hall, looking so grand and stern that
the child stopped still without a word. “She was like a great queen of
sorrows,” said Philip, “but she had to come down to him.” She led him
outside to the light, she picked him up to take a good look at him, she
asked who he was. He told her that he was Haurd’s son. She asked him
where his mother was, and what had happened. He told her what he could
while they were walking down to the fence. The sister and the wife of
Haurd looked at one another. Thorbeorg gave the three a hiding place in
an out-house, and herself took the key. Not long afterwards Eindride
came home with a number of men. Thorbeorg served a meal for them, and
they related all that had happened; but she said nothing until one
of them told how Thorstan Goldknop had struck Haurd from behind when
he was unarmed. “He was no better than a hangman or a butcher,” said
Philip. Thorbeorg cried that she knew a spell had been cast on her
brother, or they would never have overcome him. That night as they were
going to bed Thorbeorg made a thrust at Eindride with a knife, but
wounded him in the hand only. He asked her if anything he could do now
would satisfy her. “The head of Thorstan Goldknop,” she replied. Next
morning Eindride slew Thorstan and brought back the head. “He deserved
it,” said Philip, “and Thorbeorg kept her vow.” Still she was not
satisfied. She refused to make peace with her husband unless he would
befriend Helga and her sons, should they need it. Eindride, supposing
that they had been drowned, readily promised to do what she asked.
Thorbeorg showed him his mistake. She went out, and came back, leading
Helga and the two boys. Eindride was sorry, because he had sworn
already not to do anything for Haurd’s family, but he had to keep his
oath to Thorbeorg. Nor did men blame him, and they praised Thorbeorg.
Still she was not satisfied. Twenty-four men died in the next months
because of Haurd, and most of them at her instigation. She and Eindride
lived on after that in peace to a great age, leaving behind them good
children and grandchildren, who in their turn had many brave and
honourable descendants. “I am sorry,” said Philip, “that Haurd got that
blow from behind. But he was a man who had to make a story before he
died. And if this had not happened Thorstan might have gone on living,
and have missed his due. Also perhaps Thorbeorg would not have had a
chance of showing what she was good for. Now it is all over. They are
put in a tale. I don’t know what happened to Torfe and Illuge, but
everyone who hears the story either hates them or forgets them: so they
have _their_ reward. If Grimkel and Beorn lived to be men, I am sure
Torfe and Illuge did not die in their beds.”
With a deep sigh Philip stopped. For some minutes he said nothing.
When he broke his silence it was to say: “Perhaps Roland will really
do something like Haurd. He looks like it. He could. Don’t you think
he is one of those people who look as if men would some day have to
tell stories of them to one another? _He_ would not build a tower up
on a mountain for nothing, and live there no better than a man could
live at Clapham Junction.” Here Philip cried, which I never saw him do
before or after that day. It was the beginning of the worst part of
his illness. Not for many weeks was he out of bed, and once more my
companion in the house, in the yard, in Our Country, or at school on
those rare days when he attended.