Some weeks afterwards, Karlsefin and Gudrid went down to walk together
on the sea-beach. It would appear that lovers were as fond of rambling
together in those olden times as they are in these modern days. It was
evening when they went to ramble thus--another evidence of similarity in
taste between the moderns and ancients.
"Karlsefin," said Gudrid, stopping at the margin of the fiord, and
looking pensively towards the horizon, where golden clouds and air and
sea appeared to mingle harmoniously, "I wonder that you, with good ships
and many stout men and plenty of means, should choose to remain in this
barren spot, instead of searching out the famous Vinland and making a
settlement there."
"This barren spot is very bright to me, Gudrid; I have no desire to
leave it yet a while. Since you and I were betrothed the ocean has lost
its attractions. Besides, would you have me set out on a voyage of
discovery at the beginning of winter."
"Nay; but you do not even talk about going when spring comes round."
"Because I have other things to talk of, Gudrid."
"I fear me that you are a lazy man," returned the widow, with a smile,
"and will prove but a sorry husband. Just think," she added, with
sudden animation, "what a splendid country it must be; and what a
desirable change for all of us. Thick and leafy woods like those of old
Norway, instead of these rugged cliffs and snow-clad hills. Fields of
waving grass and rye, instead of moss-covered rocks and sandy soil.
Trees large enough to build houses and merchant-ships, instead of willow
bushes that are fit for nothing except to save our poor cattle from
starvation when the hay crop runs out; besides, longer sunshine in
winter and more genial warmth all the year round, instead of howling
winds and ice and snow. Truly I think our adopted home here has been
woefully misnamed."
"And yet I love it, Gudrid, for I find the atmosphere genial and the
sunshine very bright."
"Foolish man!" said Gudrid, with a little laugh. "And then," she added,
recurring to her theme, "there are grapes,--though, to be sure, I know
not what these are, never having tasted them. Biarne says they are very
good--do you think so too?"
"They are magnificent," answered Karlsefin. "In southern lands, where
Tyrker comes from, they have a process whereby they can make a drink
from grapes, which maddens youth and quickens the pulse of age,--
something like our own beer."
"It does not please me to hear that," replied Gudrid gravely; "some of
our carls are too fond of beer. When old Heriulf was sick, a little of
it did him good, and when Eric the Red was in his last days he seemed to
gather a little strength and comfort from beer; but I never could
perceive that it ever did anything to young men except make them boast,
and talk nonsense, and look foolish,--or, what is worse, quarrel and
fight."
"Right, Gudrid, right," said Karlsefin; "my opinion at least is the same
as yours, whether it be right or wrong. There is some reason in
applying heat to cold, but it seems to me unnecessary to add heat to
warmth, artificial strength to natural vigour, and it is dangerous
sometimes to add fuel to fire. I am glad you think as I think on this
point, for it is well that man and wife should be agreed in matters of
importance.--But to return to Vinland: I have been thinking much about
it since I came here, though saying little,--for it becomes a man to be
silent and circumspect in regard to unformed plans. My mind is to go
thither next spring, but only on one condition."
"And what may that be?" asked Gudrid, looking up with a little surprise,
and some interest.
"That you shall go with me, Gudrid; for which end it will be needful
that you and I should wed this winter."
Gudrid could not help blushing a little and looking down, for Karlsefin,
despite his suavity, had a way with him, when thoroughly in earnest,
that was very impressive. She did not hesitate, however, but answered
with straightforward candour, "I will not say nay to that if my brother
Leif is willing."
"It is settled then," replied Karlsefin decisively, "for Leif has
already told me that he is willing if you are, and so--"
At this interesting point in the conversation they were interrupted by a
loud merry laugh not very far from them, and next moment little Olaf,
starting out from behind a bush, ran shouting into Gudrid's extended
arms. "Oh, what do you think?" he exclaimed, "aunt Freydissa has come
over from Heriulfness, and is in _such_ a rage because Biarne has told
her that Thorward has been making love to his cousin Astrid, and--"
"Hush, boy," said Gudrid, covering his mouth with her hand, "you should
not talk so of your aunt. Besides, you know that it is an evil thing to
get the name of a tale-bearer."
"I did not think it was tale-bearing," replied the lad, somewhat
abashed, "for it is no secret. Leif was there, and Astrid herself, and
all the house-carls in the hall must have heard her, for she spoke very
loud. And oh! you should have seen her give Thorward the cold shoulder
when he came in!"
"Well, well, Olaf, hold your noisy tongue," said Gudrid, laughing, "and
come, tell me how would you like to go to Vinland?"
"Like to go to Vinland!" echoed the boy, turning an ardent gaze full on
Karlsefin, "are you going there, sir? Will you take _me_?"
Karlsefin laughed, and said, "You are too quick in jumping to
conclusions, child. Perhaps I may go there; but you have not yet
answered Gudrid's question--would you like to go?"
"I would like it well," replied Olaf, with a bright look of hopeful
expectation that said far more than words could have expressed.
Just then Thorward was seen approaching along the beach. His brows were
knit, his lips pursed, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He was so
engrossed with his thoughts that he did not perceive his friends.
"Here he comes," said Karlsefin--"in the blues evidently, for he does
not see us."
"We had better leave you to his company," said Gudrid, laughing; "a man
i' the blues is no pleasure to a woman.--Come, Olaf, you and I shall to
the dairy and see how the cattle fare."
Olaf's capacity for imbibing milk and cream being unlimited, he gladly
accepted this invitation, and followed his aunt, while Karlsefin
advanced to meet his friend.
"How now, Thorward, methinks an evil spirit doth possess thee!"
"An evil spirit!" echoed Thorward, with a wrathful look; "nay, a legion
of evil spirits possess me! A plague on that fellow Biarne: he has
poisoned the ears of Freydissa with lies about that girl Astrid, to whom
I have never whispered a sweet word since we landed."
"I trust you have not whispered sour words to her," said Karlsefin,
smiling.
"And Freydissa, forsooth, gives me the cold shoulder," continued the
exasperated Norseman, not noticing the interruption, "as if I were
proved guilty by the mere assertion."
"It is my advice to you, Thorward, that you return the compliment, and
give the cold shoulder to Freydissa. The woman has a shrewish temper;
she is a very vixen, and will lead you the life of a dog if you marry
her."
"I had rather," said Thorward between his teeth, and stamping, "live a
dog's life with Freydissa than live the life of a king without her!"
Karlsefin laughed at this, and Thorward, taking offence, said fierily,
and with some scorn--"Thinkest thou that because thy Gudrid is so
smooth-tongued she is an angel?"
"That is what I am inclined to think," answered Karlsefin, with a smile
that still further exasperated his friend.
"Perchance you may find yourself mistaken," said Thorward. "Since you
are so free with your warnings, let me remind you that although the
course of your courtship runs smooth, there is an old proverb--descended
from Odin himself, I believe--which assures us that _true_ love never
did so run."
"Then I recall my words, Thorward, and congratulate you on your true
love--for assuredly your courtship runs in an uncommonly rugged course."
At this Thorward turned on his heel and walked away in a towering
passion.
It so happened that, on drawing near to Brattalid, he met Biarne coming
in the opposite direction. Nothing could have pleased him better--for
in the state of his mind at the time he would have turned savagely on
himself, had that been possible, in order to relieve his feelings.
"So!" he cried, confronting Biarne, "well met! Tell me, Biarne, didst
thou poison the ears of Freydissa by telling her that I had been
courting thy cousin Astrid?"
Biarne, who was not aware of the consequences of what he had said in
jest, felt inclined to laugh, but he checked himself and flushed
somewhat, not being accustomed to be addressed in such haughty tones.
Instead of explaining the matter, as he might otherwise have done, he
merely said, "I did."
"Liar!" exclaimed Thorward fiercely, for he was a very resolute man when
roused; "go, tell her that the assertion was a falsehood. Go _now_, and
come back to tell me thou hast done it, else will I chop thy carcase
into mince-meat. Go; I will await thee here."
He laid his hand upon his sword, but Biarne said quietly, "I go, sir;"
and, turning round, hastened up to the hamlet.
Thorward could scarcely believe his eyes, for Biarne was fully as stout
as himself, and somewhat taller, besides having the look of a courageous
man. He had issued his imperative mandate more as a defiance and
challenge than anything else, so that he gazed after the retreating
Biarne with mingled feelings of surprise, contempt, and pity; but
surprise predominated. He had not long to wait, however, for in about
ten minutes Biarne returned.
"Well, have you told her?"
"I have," replied Biarne.
"Hah!" exclaimed Thorward, very much perplexed, and not knowing what to
say next.
"But, Thorward," said Biarne, after a momentary pause, "methinks that
you and I must fight now."
"With all my heart," answered Thorward, much relieved, and again
grasping his sword.
"Nay, not with such weapons," said Biarne, stepping up to him, "but with
the weapons of friendship."
With that he bestowed such a hearty buffet on Thorward's left ear that
it turned the irascible man head over heels, and laid him at full length
on the sand.
Thorward rose slowly, being somewhat stunned, with a confused impression
that there was something wrong with his head. Before he had quite
recovered, Biarne burst into a laugh and seized him by the hand.
"Freydissa bids me tell you--" he said, and paused.
The pause was intentional. He saw that Thorward was on the point of
snatching away his hand and returning the blow or drawing his sword; but
he restrained himself in order to hear Freydissa's message.
"She bids me tell you," repeated Biarne, "that you are a goose."
This was not calculated to soothe an angry man, but Thorward reflected
that the epithet was figurative, and bore a peculiar signification when
uttered by a woman; he therefore continued his self-restraint and waited
for more.
"She also said," added Biarne, "that she never for a moment believed my
statement (which, by the way, was only made in jest), and that she
thinks you deserve a good buffet on the ear for taking the thing up so
hotly. Agreeing with her entirely in this, I have fulfilled her wish
and given you your deserts. Moreover, she expects you to accompany her
to Heriulfness to-night. So now," said Biarne, releasing Thorward's
hand and touching his sword-hilt, "if you are still inclined--."
"Well, well," said Thorward, whose visage, while his friend was
speaking, had undergone a series of contortions indicative of a wild
conflict of feelings in his breast, "well, well, I am a goose, and
deserved the buffet. After all, I did call you a liar, so we are quits,
Biarne--tit for tat. Come, let us shake hands and go up to Leif's
cottage. You said Freydissa was there, I think."
During that winter Karlsefin married Gudrid and Thorward Freydissa, and,
in the following spring, they embarked in Karlsefin's ship--with a large
party of men, women, children, and cattle--and set sail for Vinland.