STANGERD FREES HERSELF
Stanvor Slimlegs tended Berse night and day, and only slept when he
slept--which was not often, because he had fever and was light-headed
with it, and wandered in his wits. She grew very thin and looked more
than her age; her eyes grew larger and lighter, as if they would
absorb danger from all about before it could get at Berse. But she
never failed, and felt sure that she was not tired. From the first
Stangerd had withdrawn herself and taken no part in the issue of the
quarrel--though she herself hardly knew why. Her first thought when she
heard of the mishap was one of anger against her husband. “I offered
myself to save him from this. He would not let me go with him. On his
head be it. I know very well what I can do with men, and what I am
worth. He thought he knew better--and this is the end of it.” So she
sat fuming while they were bringing him in, and would not go to see
him. Stanvor had come to her to say that he was put to bed, and that he
had asked where she was. “Well,” she had replied, “and you told him, I
suppose?” Yes, Stanvor said, she had told him. “And did he ask you to
come and fetch me?” Stangerd wanted to know. Stanvor said No, he did
not ask in so many words. “Let him ask, then,” Stangerd said. “He is
not slow to seek what he wants.”
Stanvor, who was very grave, said that the wound was bitter. “He is
slit from the buttock to the knee. He may limp till his death-day.”
Stangerd flamed and said, “He was Battle-Berse when he took me. Now he
is Buttock-Berse. I am wife to a maimed man. Wife to Buttock-Berse.”
Stanvor, looking scared and grave, left her without another word, and
she sat on in the dusk by herself, twisting her white fingers together
in her lap. When it was dark she got herself some supper, and made a
bed in the Bower, where she slept ever after.
She was left very much to herself by some sort of common consent among
those of the house and Berse’s friends who came to see him. Stanvor saw
her on and off during the days that followed, but offered her no news,
and was not asked for any. But she did hear from common talk how the
fight had gone, and how Cormac had taken some part in it. She did not
praise him for that. She said to herself, “That was not done for love
of me, or to get me. It was done to spite Berse. Between them these
men bring me to shame.” Then she looked at herself a long time in the
glass. She observed the sheen of her cheek where the light caught the
round of it; she felt her smooth throat, and drew her hair between her
fingers and saw it like a mesh of golden silk. She drew her gown tight
across her bosom, and said to herself: “Here am I even as I am, jilted
by a young man, and bought by an old one who is lame of one leg. What
does this mean? I was taught to love without my asking; I was married
without my leave; and now I am to be housewife to a limping dotard just
when my beauty is ripe. Here’s a pretty end to Cormac’s songs; here’s a
good use to make of the girdle of Fricka.”
But she did not yet know what she could do. She was resolved that she
would not stay with Berse, and clear that she could not call Cormac
to her. If he came of his own will she might take him; but she would
want more wooing. Her heart was cool; he must chafe it till it was
hot again. Sometimes she thought of calling Cormac in to help her;
sometimes she turned to her brother Toothgnasher. Finally she decided
that she would go by herself as the law allowed her. There was one
thing against it. If she went she would leave Stanvor alone with
Berse, who almost certainly would make her his third wife. Now she
told herself that it was no concern of hers what became of either of
the pair. She had no quarrel with Stanvor, whom she despised; but she
felt that she might be affected by it if they came together, and did
not wish to be affected by a girl of whom she had so light an opinion.
She wished, on the whole, to go on despising Stanvor. But you cannot
despise a person who makes you uneasy in your mind.
One day--it was towards evening--she stopped Stanvor as she was
carrying a warm drink to Berse.
“Where are you going?” she said, though she knew quite well.
Stanvor looked at her quietly, without a flicker in her light blue
eyes. “I am going to take him this,” she said, “and then he will sleep.”
Stangerd grew angry. “_Him!_” she said. “_He!_ You talk strangely, my
girl. One might think you talked of your husband or lover, to hear you.”
“No one would think so who knows us,” Stanvor said. “You at least know
better.”
“Do I know that he is not your lover, that old man?”
“Yes, you know that.”
“I know that I found you here when I was brought. You have been here
ever since. If I am to share a husband with you, let him be a whole
one, not a fragment.”
Stanvor said now: “Forgive me if I leave you. This gruel will get cold,
and then he will make a grimace and refuse it. I will take it to him,
and then come back and listen to you.” With that she went away.
* * * * *
When she came back she found Stangerd in a cold rage. She stood quietly
before her with unfaltering eyes. Stangerd looked all ways but hers,
then broke out:
“What are you here for? Why are you here?”
“I thought that you had more to say.”
“No, no; there is nothing more to say. You know all that is in my
heart.”
“If I knew that,” said Stanvor, “I should know more than you do.”
“If I knew what was in your heart, my girl,” Stangerd cried, “I should
kill you.”
“No, indeed you would not,” said Stanvor. “You would be sorry for me.”
With that she went about her business.
She lay on the floor below Berse’s bed, having covered herself with a
bearskin. She was awake, and listened to him grumbling and muttering to
himself.
“There’s no sense in it,” said Berse. “I’m an old fool for my pains.
A great, splendid, sizable girl beside a handy, vigorous man--and a
dead fire between them, cold ashes.” Then he stopped for a while, but
grunted as his pains shot in him. “A pretty child, a pretty girl,” he
went on. “All that the heart of a man could desire--mine at a nod. But
the other touches my pride. I’ve always had what I wanted.” Then he
dropped off to sleep, but Stanvor lay with her eyes wide open, staring
into the dark corners. She was very excited. Her heart was beating
fast. But she was so guarded that not even to herself would she voice
that which made her blood race in her. And she would do nothing one way
or the other.
As the days wore on she knew that Stangerd was busy about something.
Stangerd used to go out by herself, and was away for a good many hours
of the day. One of the house-carles said that she had been seen down by
the firth talking to Thorveig the spae-wife. Berse had given up asking
about her. He was getting better, and had begun to take notice of
Stanvor. One day he said to her, “You ought to be married, sweetheart.”
Stanvor’s heart stood still, but she recovered herself. “Get well
again, and we can think about it.”
“That I will,” said Berse. “He’ll be a lucky fellow that gets you.”
She turned away her head.
Then came the day when he could get about the house. He came hobbling
out into the sun, leaning upon a stick and Stanvor’s shoulder. They
came full upon Stangerd, who was sunning herself in the court. There
were house-carles at work in the outhouses. Stangerd clapped her hands
together, and when they looked up, she called to them to come to her.
Berse all this time was shaking on his stick, watching her, twitching
his eyebrows.
When the men were standing about, Stangerd, whose colour was like
flame, swept Berse into her talk with a stretched-out arm. “Take
notice, all of you, and bear me witness,” she said, “that I, Stangerd,
Thorkel’s daughter, separate myself from this half-man. He was called
Battle-Berse when I took him; but now he is Buttock-Berse, and I will
have nothing to do with a blemished man. I separate myself from him,
and claim my liberty and my goods. That is all I have to say.”
“Mistress,” said Berse, who was very still, leaning on his two sticks,
“you have said enough. Less would have served your turn.” Then he
turned and left her, hobbling along the flags in the sun with Stanvor
walking beside him. Stanvor held herself as stiffly as a young
birch-tree. Not a word upon the scene passed between them: Berse talked
gently and quietly, and Stanvor helped him all she could.
* * * * *
That same day Stangerd left him and rode down to the water. She went
home to her own people. Berse made no effort to stop her, and when she
was gone he called Stanvor to him and took her in his arms. She came
readily.
“It’s you and me now, sweetheart,” he said.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Do you mean that?” said Berse, holding her close. “Have you no pride?”
“I have a great deal,” she said. “But I gave it to you long ago.”
Berse kissed her, but immediately put her down.
“If I have your pride to keep, I’ll use it to the best advantage. You
and I will keep our distance of each other for a while longer. We must
see what that termagant does next. She is a fine woman--I never saw a
finer--but some fiend is in her. Let him take her. She is nothing to me
now.”
“She is beautiful,” Stanvor said.
Berse regarded her. “Yes,” he said, “so she is--as a field of corn full
of red poppy is a goodly sight. But there’s the less corn, there’s the
less nourishment for the husbandman. Now in your little slim body, in
your kitten face and great blue eyes there may be the joy of a man’s
days and nights. Wait till I can get about again, and we’ll see what
can be done.”
Stanvor said, “I am yours when you want me. I have always been that.”
Things went quietly for a few days; but Stanvor was aware that Berse
often looked at her when he thought she did not know anything about
it. She smiled to herself and kept a good heart. By and by, before
the winter had come, and no tidings yet from Stangerd’s kin, Berse
stopped in front of Stanvor and said, “I am minded to take a child in
fostership. It will be good for you, and the money will be kept for you
when you want it. What do you say to this, sweetheart?”
Stanvor said, “I say what you say. What child have you in mind?”
“I shall take Anlaf Hoskil’s son Haldor,” said Berse. “A good, strong
boy, more than twelve years old. He shall be in your fostership and
sleep in your bed.”
Stanvor said, “Very well; I’ll do my best with him.”
* * * * *
So that was done. Haldor was a bold lad, saucy, and forward for his
age. Stanvor got very fond of him, and he of her. He learned of her to
consider Berse the greatest paragon in Iceland. Berse, except for a
slight limp, was now as well as ever he had been, and amused himself
that winter by teaching Haldor how to exercise himself. He showed him
the use of the sword, the bill, the axe, and the spear; he gave him
horses to ride, and made him swim in the river every day. Haldor was
a rough boy when he came, but this sort of work made him as fierce
as a young man. Stanvor used to talk to him every night about Berse’s
gentleness and good temper. Between them they were in a fair way to
make a man of Haldor.