Again Thorgils and Thorbrand entered the bedroom and helped Thorkill
to dress. This time he needed little assistance. And this time they
girt him with a sword-belt, and equipped him with a handy belt-knife,
a fine dagger and a sword in a decorated scabbard. Out they escorted
him, Thorkell now walking easily and unaided. In the open he found
awaiting him Thorstein, his three elder sons, Thorfinn, Thorgeir and
Thord; a handsome and very blond young giant who was presented to
him as “Finnvard Sigurdson, of Faskrudsfiord, my future son-in-law,”
Thorstein’s house-skald, Olmod Borkson; and his seneschal, Ari Gormson.
There were a score of men-at-arms lounging about.
After the presentations they set off towards the temple, Thorstein
linking arms with Thorkell and leading the way.
“I myself,” he said, “am Gothi of this temple, which my grandfather,
Thorleif Vilgerdson, built with timber fetched from Norway.”
The temple, Thorkell judged, was a full hundred feet long. Temple
fashion the end under the gable which they approached was doorless. The
side-wall had two ample doorways, each near an end. They passed in by
that nearest them towards the right end of the side-wall, and turned
to their left. In behind them straggled the men-at-arms, who had
trooped after them. Thorkell could feel the reverential awe with which
the great, hulking, burly, truculent spearmen entered the holy place.
Midway of the opposite long-wall they passed the High-Seat, between the
tall pillars, each with its three consecrated bolts of gilded bronze.
They were visible even in the dim light afforded by the small latticed
windows, gut-paned, high up in the gable ends. Towards the end of the
temple they entered the oval, defined by a ring of thin slabs of stone
set on edge. Inside the oval, near the end of it towards the further
gable of the building, was an altar of the customary form, a great
thick slab of dressed stone, full three ells square, supported by four
stone posts, squared, carved with runes, and set deep in the beaten
earth floor. The slab of the altar was also carved with runes. On it
lay the great holy ring, of solid silver, weighing full thirty pounds.
Thorstein lifted the great ring and slid it up his right arm to the
shoulder. There Thorfinn tied it with a crimson wool ribbon, slipped
under his father’s left arm-pit and crossed on his left shoulder;
so that the ring would not slide down the arm. Then, standing on
Thorstein’s right, Thorkell unsheathed his dagger and with its
point lightly slashed the back of his left hand, tilting it till
the dagger-blade ran with blood. Then, placing his left hand on the
temple-ring and holding the dagger point down over the center of the
altar, he swore:
“As my blood drips upon this altar from the point of this dirk, so may
my blood and the heart’s blood of all my kin, of any wife I may wed, of
any children I may have, of all those dear to me, be spilt upon the
earth, if my oath is not truthful. I swear by my own blood, by the holy
ring which I grasp, by this altar, by the pillars of the High Seat, by
their sacred bolts, before Thor and Odin, that I am Thorkell Vilgerdson
of Rogaland in Norway, and that I am newly castaway on the coast of
Iceland and have never, in Iceland, seen or spoken with any Icelander
excepting dwellers here at Hofstadir.
“If my oath is false may my heart’s blood and the blood of all those
dear to me be spilt upon the earth as my blood now drips from the point
of my dirk. Before Odin and Thor I have sworn.”
Thereafter Thorfinn removed the Gothi’s ring from his father’s arm and
he and Thorstein laid it in its place midway of the altar-slab.
Outside the temple Thorgils dressed the slash on the back of Thorkell’s
left hand. Then Thorstein first and after him his sons in the order of
their ages, clasped hands with Thorkell, each uttering the formula:
“You are our dear and trusted cousin.”
Finnvard followed. Then Ari, Olmod and the men-at-arms saluted
Thorkell, crying:
“We are brothers in arms.”
From the temple Thorstein led Thorkell into the storehouse and into
that part of it which was used as an armory.
“Look over these weapons,” he said, “and select a sword, poniard and
belt-knife to your mind. Try first those you now have; if they suit
you, keep them. But be sure that the balance of the sword is precisely
what you prefer and that you are armed as you desire.”
Outside, in the mild sunshine of a day unusually mellow for Iceland,
they sat on the benches flanking the doorway and chatted until after
midday. Then Thorstein cautioned Thorkell that a man who had been
exposed and exhausted as he had had best lie down an hour or so before
his first heavy meal after his privations.
When Thorgils wakened and summoned him he found in the great hall
a numerous assemblage. He was presented by Thorstein to Thorkatla
his wife, to his daughter Thorgerd and his two nieces Thorarna and
Thordis, whom he had encountered on the beach. Thorarna was the tall,
full-contoured, black-tressed beauty, and Thordis the exquisite blonde
whom he had thought the most beautiful of the three. Thorfinn’s wife
Arnora and Thord’s wife Valdis were personable young women.
Thorstein occupied the High Seat, facing the fireplace. To the left and
right of him sat his family, on benches ranged along that side of the
hall, but far enough from the wall to leave space for anyone to walk
behind them and to pass in or out of any door. On the opposite side of
the hall, flanking the chimney-piece, was a similar row of benches,
occupied by the men-at-arms, more than forty together. Towards the ends
of the hall sat such dependents and thralls as were not busy serving
the feast. The servitors carried in more than eighty light, collapsible
tables, each in three parts, a square top and two trestles. One was
placed before each diner. The fare was varied and abundant, but notably
characteristic of Iceland. There were unlimited supplies of fresh
whey in jars, pitchers and bowls; bowls of curd; platters heaped with
slices of cheese, both new and aged; there was even an overabundance
of smoked and fresh fish, cooked in every known manner; plenty of
tender fat mutton, beef and veal, and, each borne in by two brawny
thralls, two great platters, one piled with convenient cuts of stewed
horseflesh, the other with similar collops of horseflesh roasted. There
was a moderate supply of manchets of excellent rye, barley and wheaten
bread, handed along in smallish flat osier baskets or on similar trays.
Maids continually passed and repassed proffering basins of warm water
and towels; for, in those days, forks were unknown, and, besides plates
and spoons of beechwood from Norway and belt knives, fingers were the
only table implements, and frequent washing of the hands was necessary
for comfort.
Thorgils and Thorbrand, between whom Thorkell sat, plied him with
offerings of every viand brought in and saw that his goblet was kept
full of well-aged, fragrant mead. Even more than the large household
and lavish fare Thorkill was impressed by the chimney-piece, which
faced him on his left, and by its fireplace, not aglow with smouldering
peat, but ablaze with a generous heap of crackling driftwood. He
commented on this to Thorbrand.
“I have never seen any other chimney or fireplace except ours,” was his
reply. “It is said that two halls in the river-valleys about Faxafloi
have chimney fireplaces, and that there is another in a mansion on
Breidifiord. But none of us have seen any. My great grandfather had
this built of native stone, for there is much fire-resisting rock on
our island.”
“This,” Thorkell said, “is the only chimney fireplace I have myself
ever seen. My home, like every other hall I have ever entered till
now, has only a fireplace midway of its floor, so that the smoke
blackens the rafters before it finds the hole in the roof.”
After the feast Thorstein called for silence.
“We have with us,” he said, “what is almost as good as a visiting
skald, a guest who has had marvellous adventures. All of us will now
listen to Thorkell Vilgerdson of Rogaland in Norway, if he will be so
good as to accede to my request that he tell us of his dangers and of
his escape.”
Thorkell blushed, but was encouraged by the smiling, eager faces turned
towards him. He took courage, stood up, and told his tale, haltingly at
first, later more fluently.
After he had finished and sat down Olmod twanged his harp and recited
a drapa describing and praising the exploits of Floki Vilgerdson the
viking and settler. When he ceased the company dispersed to bed.
During the ensuing days Thorkell became well acquainted with Hofstadir,
its denizens and its neighborhood. As soon as he felt his full strength
and vigor return he spent his mornings with Thorgir, Thorbrand,
Thorgils and Finnvard at fencing, target practice with spears or
arrows, wrestling, and other such manly exercises. At all of these
he excelled, yet his genial demeanor was so winsome that his easy
victories gave no offence to his companions.
They also went swimming together, and fishing, both in the many nearby
streams, and offshore in a very handy small boat, heavily built, blunt
bowed, yet a good sailor. Thorkell was amazed at the numbers of fish
and at the rapidity with which they could be caught. A hook thrown
into the water was taken almost at once.
They rode about the neighborhood on fine mounts, for, in those early
days, Icelandic horses were still fully equal to Norwegian horses, as
the breed was kept up by constant importations of tall, strong, speedy
and spirited stallions.
After not many days Thorkell learned the country further afield, for
he was invited to accompany Thorstein on a tour of inspection of his
district; for he was not only Gothi, that is, priest, of the temple at
Hofstadir, but also Gothi, that is, magistrate, of a district called a
gothorth, all Iceland being divided into gothorths. Thorstein made his
tour attended by his five sons; by several cousins, among whom were
Thorlak Vilgerdson of Thelmark and Thorvald Vilgerdson of Husavik;
by many thingmen, dependents and yeomen; and by a strong guard of
well-horsed spearmen.
Thorkell was much edified by Thorstein’s promptness at settling
controversies and redressing grievances. The old man displayed an
uncanny intuition and seemed to know all his vassals’ thoughts,
motives, wants, desires and needs without being told.
After the tour was over, at a moment when Thorstein was at ease,
Thorkell ventured to express his admiration.
His host smiled.
“A chieftain,” he said, “must possess the faculty of seeing into his
vassals’ hearts and of knowing their thoughts without question asked
and answer given; even without any uttered word. A man who cannot
divine the unspoken thoughts of his dependents will not long retain
the prestige vital for a Gothi, or for any sort of chieftainship.
Necessarily, I know much without being told, with hardly even a glance.
Mostly for instance, I can foresee months in advance, sometimes even
years in advance, what girl each youth will woo for his wife, what
maiden each lad desires, even what lad finds favor in each maiden’s
eyes. Such must any chieftain divine.”
At Hofstadir Thorkell was soon at home among the buildings. Not less
than by the chimney, inset fireplace and lavish wood fire was he
impressed by the fortifications of the homestead. It was protected all
round with a dry moat, the earth from which, thrown up on the inner
side, formed a considerable rampart, topped on all four sides of the
enclosure by a solid wall of large, roughly squared blocks of stone.
At the corners were jutting, bulging circular bastions well stockaded
with birch logs, set deep in the earth, butt up and touching each
other, everyone fully three spans broad at the upturned butt, for, in
those early days, the primeval woods of Iceland furnished logs much
larger than any now obtainable on the island. The stockades, like the
walls, were breast-high. Thorkell had never seen a bastion before, nor
heard of one, and was much impressed by the novelty, originality and
manifest adequacy of the device. The idea of a bastion, that it affords
defenders of a fortification an opportunity of shooting sideways at an
assailant crossing the fosse or scaling the parapet, appears so obvious
to us that we can scarcely realize that there ever was a time when
it was unknown. Yet, hundreds, even thousands of years after it was
common and a matter of course in the Mediterranean countries, it had
not yet penetrated the ruder northern lands. In fact, in all parts of
the world, men were not quick to conceive the idea, and, as with other
devices, very slow to adopt it from foemen.
Almost as much was Thorkell impressed by the bath-house, a small
structure, one might say a hut, built of sod and stone, with a low
door and only one very tiny window. Inside there was room for only one
person and a pail of water beside a very small stone stove. This was
heated almost red-hot and then the bather, with a dipper, poured on
it water which at once filled the hut with steam, both cleansing and
refreshing.
On either side of the chimney-piece in the great hall was a sort of
trophy of spears, shields and swords arranged in a pattern like a
six-pointed star; six short pikes crossed and lashed to pegs, six small
round shields set between the radiating spears, and twelve swords, two
by each shield. Above the fireplace was another, of six long swords,
their points together, their hilts apart, with shields between.
Thorkell, inquiring about these, was told that they had been placed
there by Thorstein’s grandfather, Thorleif Vilgerdson, who had built
the hall and temple. The spears and swords forming the two flanking
trophies were fine and valued weapons of former Vilgerdsons: the trophy
over the fireplace was formed of the very sword worn all his life by
Floki Vilgerdson the Viking and settler, and of five cunningly exact
replicas of it, made at Thorleif Vilgerdson’s command by Hoskuld
Vestarson, a famous smith.
“I do not myself know,” said Thorstein, “which is Floki’s blade. My
father told me that he did not know. No one knows. No man has used
any one of those six swords since before I was born. It is told that
Floki’s blade is enchanted, that no one except a Vilgerdson could
wield it, that to anyone not a Vilgerdson it would be heavier than
a thick bar of iron; but that, in time of peril to Floki’s heirs
or kin, it is magical to infuse into its wielder superhuman valor,
swiftness, dexterity and strength. It is also told of Floki’s blade
that it knows friend from foe and will not smite a friend, no matter
how frenziedly its wielder believes him a foe, nor yet will it fail to
smite a treacherous foe, no matter how implicitly its wielder trusts
the traitor. We have come to regard these swords as almost as holy as
the bolts in the pillars by the High Seat in our temple, as almost as
sacred as the temple ring itself. Their presence in our hall we regard
as a protection and safeguard to us all, as a sort of talisman for
Hofstadir. We all and all my men-at-arms and thingmen and retainers
reverence and treasure them.”
Thorkell could see that they were very handsome swords.
He learned that Thorstein never had fewer than sixty men-at-arms on
duty, but not all of them were ever at Hofstadir itself. Some were on
watch along the cliffs, on the lookout for an attack from seaward.
There were always two or more patrol-boats on the offing conning the
sea northwards. The lookouts on the cliffs also watched the fiord for
signs of an attempt to attack in boats from its northern shore. And
some men-at-arms were always scattered about at the farmsteads of
Thorstein’s thingmen and other dependents, especially towards the head
of Revdarfiord, round which must come any attack in force by land.
Thorkatla he found kind-hearted, but taciturn, sharp-tongued when
she did speak, and of a very stern, harsh and austere disposition.
Thorgerd, staid, astute and shrewd, was yet, by nature, trustful,
unsuspicious, confiding, artless and unaffected. She gave Thorkell an
experience entirely novel to him. For she displayed for him a warm
sisterly interest, as to which she was entirely frank and open, while
indubitably ardently in love with her handsome Finnvard.
Thorarna and Thordis he greatly admired and liked. He could not make
out at first which he liked better. That both were manifestly deeply
in love with him he took as a matter of course. He had long become
habituated to having attractive maidens fall in love with him on short
acquaintance and show it.
The immemorial usages of Scandinavian life made it absolutely
unthinkable, in the Iceland of those days, that a young man and a young
woman should ever be alone together, even for a moment. But, on the
other hand, life in Iceland was so free, open, frank, spontaneous,
unconventional and inartificial that not only were lads and lasses
constantly encountering each other about the dwellings, but that not
merely was chatting a matter of course and unremarked, but that such
young folk as Thorkell, Thorarna and Thordis might and did walk about
together out of doors, and sit together side by side conversing for
hours in the hall, in full sight of those about them, unnoticed and
left to themselves.
In this way Thorkell became rapidly well-acquainted with both his
host’s nieces and heard from each her story; stories very much alike
and of a kind far too common in Iceland at that period, and for
centuries later. The envenomed and unremitting enmity between the
Revdarfirthers and their neighbors the Miofifirthers and Seydisfirthers
had resulted in recurrent reprisals.
Thorarna was the only survivor of an overwhelmingly successful assault
upon her father’s homestead. Her father, Thorstein’s brother Thorleik,
had been killed in the fighting, and, when the buildings were set on
fire by the victorious assailants, all the family had perished in the
flames except Thorarna, who, a child of three, had been saved by her
faithful nurse.
Thordis, the only daughter of Thorstein’s brother Thorgest, was the
survivor of a similar massacre.
Much of the evening leisure at Hofstadir was taken up with tales of
such atrocities as these and of like assaults on homesteads, some by
one side, some by the other; some craftily planned, artfully delivered
and overwhelmingly successful; others resulting in drawn battles and
leaving the homestead in mourning for some of its defenders, but
unpillaged and unburnt; yet others unplanned, impulsive, foolhardy,
undermanned or bungled in delivery and resulting in the utter
discomfiture of the assailants. Thorkell sat in silence and listened
to many long tales of this kind from Olmod the house-skald, from
Thorstein himself and from his elder sons. From them also he listened
to even longer tales of complaints against one or the other side before
the Althing at Thingvellir, nearly every year at the two-weeks summer
meeting of this national assembly. They told in great detail of the
impassioned accusations of the plaintiffs, of the indignant rejoinders
of the defendants, of the citations of the respondents before the
high court of justice, of the evidence of the witnesses for each side,
of the arguments of the lawmen, of the disagreements of the judges,
of their occasional agreement, of their verdicts and judgments and of
the indemnities they assessed upon the convicted aggressors. In almost
every case Thorkell heard of the ignoring or flouting of the court’s
decision and of yet further reprisals, duels, forays and outrages.
What astonished him most was that, in all these tales of duels,
murders, treacheries, ambushes, pillagings, outrages, butcheries,
massacres and arson and of their consequences, the narrators talked
as if the Althing were an efficient legislature with power to see to
it that its enactments be observed as the law of the island; as if
the courts had the authority they assumed to have and could enforce
their judgments, verdicts, decrees and penalties; as if, in truth,
law and justice did exist in Iceland: whereas, in fact, it appeared
from every tale he listened to, from every detail of every narrative,
that their vaunted Althing was merely a turbulent yearly social
gathering, accomplishing nothing except the waste of time in futile
wrangling, making a vain show of counterfeiting a sham legislature,
which empty pretense all Icelanders kept up with a curious mingling of
unconscious self-deception and shamefaced effrontery; that the courts,
while generally spoken of with respect, were in fact derided by all
malefactors, and unable to give effect to their decrees, judgments
and verdicts, to enforce their penalties or to exact the indemnities
they granted, so that they were, on the whole, a costly, time-wasting,
exhausting and pitiable farce.
It was plain to Thorkell that the Icelanders, if his host and his
household were fair samples, had somehow duped themselves into fancying
that they had courts which dispensed justice and a government which
maintained law and order; whereas it was manifest that they lived in
a condition of utter anarchy, where there was no protection for life
or property except the fighting prowess of the men of a homestead as
concerned themselves, their folk and their possessions; or of the
men-at-arms of a chieftain for him and his. It was plain that beautiful
Thordis, magnificent Thorarna, lovely Thorgerd, fair Arnora, dainty
Valdis and stern Thorkatla were living in daily peril of a horrible
death and were safe only in so far as their men could protect them. Yet
they, like their men, boasted of the noble freedom of life in Iceland,
pitied the servile condition of Norwegians under their tyrannical king,
vaunted their island institutions, and lauded the system of local
gothorths, yearly elections, yearly assemblies at Thingvellir of their
unwieldy and ineffective Althing, and the complex, lengthy, laborious
and fruitless procedure of their fatuous courts. Local pride seemed
a passion which blinded them to the most glaring imperfections of
anything Icelandic.