But it mattered very little what was the subject or the nature of the
conversation, Thorkell found himself more than contented with any
length of time which he might spend with either Thorarna or Thordis.
Yet, after not many days, he was aware of a difference in his feelings
for the two and of theirs for him. Thordis never avoided him, but
never put herself in his way. If everything was favorable and they
happened to be thrown together accidentally, she frankly enjoyed being
with him, but never did anything to prolong a chat or to bring one
about. Thorarna, on the contrary, was most ingenious in postponing the
termination of a colloquy, and was most fertile in clever, adroit, and
unobtrusive devices which resulted in their being together.
Before many days life at Hofstadir, for Thorkell, consisted chiefly
of endeavoring to be with Thordis. Once, when he was basking in her
smiles, her face suddenly clouded and she said:
“There! Thorarna has gone! Please, please try to spend more of your
time with her and less with me. From childhood she and I have been
happy together, and nothing has ever blurred our love for each other
and our unreserved mutual confidence until she began to grow jealous
of me. Since she fell in love with you we have become alienated; she
is chilly to me, distant, reticent, even unfriendly. I grieve that we
are estranged. I love her and I want her to love me. I do not want
her to hate me. Please do all you can to placate her. She keeps her
countenance and is always outwardly serene, sedate and stately. But she
rages inwardly and is so infuriated when you talk to me that I dread
her. Please avoid me and propitiate her all you can. Please promise me
that you will do as I ask.”
Thorkell promised, and, for some days, barely greeted Thordis and
had no converse with her whatever, whereas he spent long hours with
Thorarna, and, to his amazement, found that he enjoyed her society
keenly; yet, even more to his amazement, felt that, when he was not
with Thorarna, he longed for Thordis so acutely that he could hardly
restrain himself from seeking her out and telling her how much he loved
her.
The long spell of clear, mild weather merged into weather decidedly
warm, weather which would have been warm even for Scotland or England.
Thorstein, with a large retinue of spearmen, rode out to visit and
inspect the outlying fringe of farms tenanted by his dependents or
thingmen. It was a very fair day and they had expected an easy jaunt
and an early return to Hofstadir. So it turned out for Thorstein and
most of his company. But, early in the day, they heard a report, hardly
more than a rumor, of distress at a farmstead isolated among uplands
at the extreme southwestern point of Thorstein’s gothorth, very much
out of their way. Thorbrand offered to ride there and investigate
and Thorkell volunteered to go with him. He demurred to his father’s
suggestion that he take some of the men-at-arms, declaring that he and
Thorkell could make better time alone. Off they set. Their errand was
easily accomplished and the rumor found untrue and everyone safe and
well at Mossfell. But, on their return, they encountered conditions
peculiar to Iceland. There it frequently happens during a prolonged
spell of warm weather that great quantities of snow are melted high up
on the plateaus or in hollows among the upper foot-hills, and, very
occasionally, that the waters are dammed back by ice accumulated in
some valley, ravine, gorge or glen, and, if the hot weather lasts on,
are suddenly released by the crumbling of the ice-dam. Such a sudden
and terrific freshet roared across their homeward way and presented a
torrent of deep water not only unfordable, but impossible to swim. They
were, perforce, compelled to await the ebbing of the transitory flood
and so did not reach Hofstadir until the gradual twilight, insensible
gloaming and lingering dusk had melted into semi-darkness.
Thorbrand, sedulously careful of their weary mounts, bade Thorkell go
at once into the hall. Between the stable and the mansion, out of sight
of either behind the storehouse, he encountered Thordis.
She burst into tears; crying:
“Oh! My Love! My Love! Ref and Karli rode in after sunset on lathered
horses reporting that you and Thorbrand had been ambushed and killed.
Oh! My Love! My Love!”
Thorkell caught her in his arms and they clung together, she sobbing,
her head on his breast, he with one arm about her, his other hand
stroking her hair, whispering:
“My Darling! My Darling!”
Suddenly her arms relaxed, she pulled away from him, pushed him from
her, and cried, in a strangled whisper:
“Let me go! Thorarna might see us! Be careful! Thorarna must not see us
together! Let me go! Avoid me! Keep away from me, hardly speak to me!
She must not see us together! Let me go!”
And she sprang away and vanished like a frightened hare.
The weather, for two days afterwards, was not merely warm, but hot,
weather which would have been hot anywhere; an occurrence very unusual
for Iceland, but not unknown, especially on the east coast. On account
of the heat the fire in the hall was allowed to go out entirely, and,
at the evening meal, two of the benches of the men-at-arms were set
across the fireplace, close against the stone work of the chimney-piece.
During these two days Thorkell spent as much time with Thorarna as he
could arrange, and found her fascinating, but moody, high-strung and
capricious. He sedulously avoided Thordis. Only for one moment did they
have an opportunity to exchange a few words. Then Thordis, on the verge
of tears and gasping, said:
“Oh! I am so afraid of Thorarna. I don’t know what I dread, but I am in
the most fearful dread of her. She is very suspicious of you. I think
she conjectures that you and I love each other. You are too distant
with her for her peace of mind. Thorarna, like all her mother’s family,
is petulant, choleric, touchy, irascible, hot-tempered, acrimonious,
vindictive, impulsive, precipitate and hot-headed. Oh, I am so afraid
of her!”
Thorkell tried to calm her, but could not.
Early the third morning, just after dawn had brightened into day, the
lookouts gave the alarm.
And too late!
For, when the garrison of Hofstadir had barely armed and were not
yet all at their posts, there fell upon them three simultaneous and
perfectly coordinated assaults; from the west along the strand, from
the south down the slope, and from the north, from across the fiord by
a party which had made an unopposed landing on the shore.
Thorkell was among the defenders of the western side of the enclosure,
and, despite the hard fight he and his companions put up, their
assailants succeeded in crossing the trench and scaling the wall. But
thereupon they were beaten back by a desperate rally of the denizens,
in which Thorkell played more than his part, for he, single-handed,
successively slew five formidable antagonists. As their foemen wavered
he sprang at a sixth, parried his thrust and got home a deadly stroke
on his helmet.
The sword snapped!
As his adversary was half stunned and wholly dazed by the force of the
blow Thorkell whirled about and made a dash for the hall. There he
leapt upon one of the benches set across the fireplace, seized the hilt
of one of the six identical swords, wrenched it from its fastenings,
and, waving it, dashed out.
As he cleared the doorway he heard elated shouts and an exultant cheer.
Glancing to his right he saw men in chain-mail hauberks vaulting the
eastern wall of the enclosure. He recognized, in the lead, Lodbrok
and Halfdan, the chiefs, Gellir, Sigurd and Bodvar, his treacherous
friends, and others from the crew of the Sea-Raven. He instantly
divined that they had blundered into Miofifiord or Seydisfiord, had
fraternized with the Seydisfirthers and Miofifirthers and had readily
agreed, for their share in the prospective loot, to take part in
capturing and sacking the richest homestead in eastern Iceland.
On fire with his chance of revenge he flew at Lodbrok, and, as he
charged, it seemed to him that never had he run so swiftly, never
had he felt so strong, so capable, so eager for a fray, so sure of
success. He beat back Lodbrok’s guard and swung a full-arm sweep of
his blade at his head. The sword went up like a feather and came down
like a battle-axe. As if through cheese it clove helm, skull, jaw and
chin down into the breast-bone. Lodbrok fell like a pole-axed ox, and,
as Thorkell saw him go down, almost in two halves, he realized that he
was wielding Floki’s blade.
He whirled on Gellir and the sweep of the sword cut clean through
not only both forearms between wrist and elbow, but also through the
stout ash shaft of the pike he wielded. Behind Gellir was Halfdan,
no mean adversary, truculent, wary and skilled. He held his bright,
round, arabesqued shield close against his left shoulder and lunged
cunningly and viciously. Barely parrying his thrust Thorkell swung his
great sword, and, lo! it shore clean through shield, gorget, hauberk,
shoulder and arm, so that his left forequarter fell clear of Halfdan
and he was dead before he crumpled on the earth.
Similarly Thorkell slew Bodvar, Sigurd and Hrodmar. Two the sharp sword
beheaded at a single sweep; one it cleft under the sword-arm, through
his ribs, into his liver; of the fourth its point pierced his heart
through shield and hauberk.
Instinct made Thorkell spin round and he faced Kollgrim Erlendson,
leader of the Vikings and most redoubtable of them all. Their swords
clashed and Kollgrim’s failed, snapped before the hilt, so that
Thorkell’s blade shore off his right shoulder, slicing through the
rings of his chain-mail hauberk as if it had been of hemp, and he died
as his fellow chieftain Halfdan Ingolfson had died.
Although their chiefs were all dead the Vikings, descrying but one
defender before them, were swarming over the wall. Among them Thorkell
dashed and at each stroke of Floki’s blade a foeman died. Yet Thorkell
must have been overwhelmed by mere numbers if some of the Vilgerdsons
and their men-at-arms, now victorious to north and south, had not
flocked to his aid, amazed to see that Hofstadir had been saved by his
unaided valor and spurred on by admiration of him.
Thorkell at their head they drove the survivors of the Sea-Raven’s crew
in headlong flight across the wall and trench, and Thorkell beheld in
the distance the thralls Erp, Ulf, Hundi, Kepp, Sokholf and Vifill,
standing ready with spare shields, spears, bows and quivers, cast away
their burdens and turn in flight before the foremost of the fleeing
Vikings reached them.
The fight was over. The assailants were everywhere beaten and routed.
Thorstein forbade pursuit on foot, and only some twenty of the
men-at-arms found horses ready, mounted and sped out of the main
gateway of the enclosure to complete the rout of the assailants, who
left more than forty corpses behind them.
Of the victors twelve spearmen had fallen and with them seven of
Thorstein’s dependent yeomen, four of his thingmen, and two cousins,
Thorberg Vilgerdson of Snowfell and Thorod Vilgerdson of Gelsbank.
Thorkell, Thorstein himself and Thorfinn were the only unwounded
warriors among the defenders. All the rest of the family, all the
cousins, thingmen, yeomen, and men-at-arms had suffered one or more
wounds; but, of the family, only Thord was wounded seriously. His
wounds were at once bound up and the blood staunched.
Then, with one accord, every warrior of them all acclaimed Thorkell
as their savior. They cheered him and saluted him as “hero.” Thorfinn
and Thorgeir seized him by the elbows, and, following their father and
followed by the cheering throng, marched him into the great hall and up
to the High Seat. There Thorstein stood aside and motioned Thorkell to
mount the dais and occupy the High Seat. Before his dazed astonishment
could protest, Thorfinn and Thorgeir had gently forced him into it.
There he sat, Floki’s blade, still red, point down between his knees,
his hands crossed on the pommel of the upright hilt.
Thorstein shouted:
“Mead for the hero! Not a man of us shall touch horn or bowl to lip
until the hero has had his fill of my best mead. Mead for the hero!”
At the call Thorarna appeared from the kitchen through the rear
doorway carrying with both hands a great bowl high before her. Down
the hall she came, her face lit with a triumphant smile, magnificent
and stately. Before the High Seat she knelt and offered the bowl to
Thorkell. The fighters cheered again.
As Thorarna held up the bowl, Thorkell, to his horror, felt his right
hand grasp the sword-hilt with a grip he could not loosen, felt
the sword raise itself and his arm till the blade swung high above
Thorarna, felt the magic of the sword drag down his arm in a deadly
sweep, felt and saw the blow descend, felt and saw the blade shear
through Thorarna’s left shoulder, shoulder-blade, collar-bone and
ribs, cleaving her to the very heart.
She crumpled in a horrid welter of spilt mead, gushing blood,
disordered raiment and huddled flesh.
The onlookers stood, frozen mute.
Into the hall rushed Thordis and Thorgerd, screaming:
“Do not drink! The mead is poisoned! Do not drink! The mead is
poisoned!”
At sight of the High Seat, Thorkell on it and what lay before him,
Thordis collapsed in a faint. Thorgerd was at once absorbed in tending
her cousin.
Thorstein shouted for his thralls.
“Ref! Karli! Mar! Odd! Remove that carrion! Cleanse the dais!”
And, when his orders had been obeyed and the dais and hall were again
seemly, he called once more:
“Mead for the hero!”
Thordis, now restored, though tottering, her golden-haired,
pink-cheeked, blue-eyed loveliness amazing even in her confusion,
herself carried to Thorkell a horn.
He took it, quaffed it as he sat and handed it back to her. Then
Thorstein shouted:
“Mead for all of us, and more mead for the hero!”
Maid servants flocked in with bowls, horns and goblets and behind them
thralls with pails of mead to replenish those drained. All drank,
Thorkell too, a second horn offered him by Thordis. From her knees he
raised her and made her stand beside the High Seat.
Then Thorstein shouted:
“Hail the hero!”
Whereupon all the warriors cheered Thorkell until they were hoarse.
Into the ensuing silence Thorstein spoke clearly and gravely:
“To-morrow we shall revel in honor of our deliverance, victory and
safety. And the banquet shall be the wedding feast of my niece Thordis
and of her bridegroom, my cousin, Thorkell Vilgerdson of Rogaland in
Norway, our hero!”
1924