The Greenlanders (28 page)

Sira Jon spoke. “You have little experience with many servants or a large establishment. You were raised among monks. You would not know what to do with the means at Gardar, or how to rule the men.”

Pall Hallvardsson stood up. “This is indeed true, and about this I will never contradict you, nor will I ever challenge your authority at Gardar or among the Greenlanders. I am pleased to place in your hands my faith and my friendship, and I ask only to serve the see as you consider fit.”

Now Jon inhaled deeply, and looked at Pall Hallvardsson with a flicker of pleasure. “On such a day as this, there is no little difficulty in attending to all that folk wish to say to us. But this speech is clear and easy to grasp, and we thank you for it. It shall be the staff that steadies our steps.”

Now Sira Pall Hallvardsson went out and found the room where the bishop had been laid out, and he got to his knees at the feet of the corpus and said many prayers. After a few days he returned to Hvalsey Fjord for the seal hunt. The death of the bishop was the subject of great talk among the Greenlanders, especially in light of how young he had been next to Sira Nikolaus and his “wife.” Some folk laughed and said that Sira Nikolaus would come to be the bishop after all, if he hung on long enough. Folk found it reassuring that activities at Gardar went on as before, with no change or diminishment, for all greatly feared even the slightest falling off, declaring that this would betoken only a steeper decline into the godlessness of the earlier time. Families hurried to send their sons to Gardar for training, and some of these were taken on and taught some letters. There were, perhaps, fewer feasts and masses, but folk said that this was less important than other things, namely the richness of the Gardar hay crop, the good repair of the buildings, and the state of the beasts. Although he was not the bishop, Sira Jon began wearing bits of Bishop Alf’s apparel, and speaking to folk with more of the distance and formality that the bishop had used, and the Greenlanders spoke of this with approval, and recalled how lowly Ivar Bardarson had held himself, so that others, too, held him lowly, and his office.

It was a fact that Erlend Ketilsson was one of the two or three most prosperous farmers south of Gardar. He farmed not only Ketils Stead, but also two other farms in Vatna Hverfi. Sigmund Sigmundsson of Petursvik, the husband of Thorunn’s niece, had died during the vomiting ill, willing his farm to Erlend as well, for, folk said, the case Erlend had won for him against Asgeir Gunnarsson had made his rotten dried sealmeat taste like roast lamb and his sourmilk taste like wine to him, and he had never considered himself a poor man again. Nonetheless, the farm fell waste, for Petursvik was far away, and the folk there hard put, and Erlend could not find anyone to do the farming for him.

When folk died, or farms were abandoned, as had happened more and more after the vomiting ill and the famine, people came to Erlend and Vigdis first, asking to be put to work and bringing their livestock and their goods, and most of these folk Erlend and Vigdis took in. Erlend was as tight-lipped as ever, and Vigdis as stern, and in addition folk were made to work long hours, but, it was said, folk always work long hours, and at Ketils Stead, the hours ended in a full trencher. In addition to this, wherever many folk gather, there is talk, and jesting, and tale-telling, no matter whether the master gains enjoyment or not. Erlend had many friends.

It happened that in this year the seal hunt was especially lucky, with many seals taken and no man killed, nor even injured, and so folk prepared for the winter with more confidence than they had in recent years. At Gunnars Stead, a third child was conceived, and Birgitta Lavransdottir had such experience at these things now that she went about her business unfatigued and full of joy, for it came to her in a dream that the child was a boy. Svava Vigmundsdottir had become a regular member of the Gunnars Stead household, and two chests of her treasures had been carried from Siglufjord to Gunnars Stead. She was given Margret Asgeirsdottir’s bedcloset, and Olaf went to the one Ingrid had used.

Folk in Vatna Hverfi no longer spoke of the dull wits of Gunnar Asgeirsson, but declared that although others had sometimes doubted Gunnar’s future, they had never done so, but had always considered that the shrewdness of Asgeir Gunnarsson and his brother Hauk would surface in the boy sooner or later. Gunnar was not as powerful or prosperous as the richest men in the district, but the storehouses were nearly as full as they had been in Asgeir’s time, and far better disposed, for Birgitta Lavransdottir, it was said, was the sort of wife who must always know what she has. Concerning the killing of Skuli Gudmundsson, it was widely remarked that he was a Norwegian after all, and given to wearing peculiar bright clothing, as all of the ombudsman’s men had been, and in addition had been given too little to do by his lord. Did not Norwegians who came to Greenland always turn out thus—idle and troublemaking? That he had gone forward to his death without cowardice, however, was something to be praised.

And of course Skuli had done Thorkel Gellison a great turn, for after the killing, his was the only stallion anyone cared to breed their mares to, although it must be said that most of the farmers came to him shamefacedly and as if looking after other business. Thorkel kept the great gray horse in a round pen just in front of the door to his steading, and always conducted business in the open doorway, and it always happened that after talk of other things, the visitor would remark at how attractive the horse was, and Thorkel would declare the animal an unlucky one, who had caused the death of a man, and then the other would remark that even so, it was a fine horse indeed, and they would walk forward and lean upon the wall of the pen. Thorkel grew very rich.

Gunnar was a very fair man, as fair as Olaf Finnbogason was ugly, and at least a head taller than his foster brother. He still busied himself spinning and weaving and sewing and tale-telling during the long dark months of winter, and his dress was somewhat peculiar, as he devised it himself. One time his hood would have a face piece with slits for the eyes. Another time his gown would have patch pockets of different sizes stitched all down the front, and into these pockets he would put his tools. Another time his gown would be very short, as the Norwegians had worn theirs, and his hose very thick, or his shoes would have peculiar flaps and fastenings. He tried weaving oddly colored threads into the Gunnars Stead wadmal and sometimes the Gunnars Stead folk appeared in outlandish stripes. Concerning all of this, Birgitta Lavransdottir said nothing and seemed to have no thoughts. When Gunnar wore stripes that ran from arm to arm, or even from neck to knee, Birgitta wore them as well, and dressed little Gunnhild and Helga in them. She even wore gowns that Gunnar contrived for her, although she did not make Katla or the other servants put on such things.

Birgitta had six servants about her now, including Svava. Besides Hrafn and his sons, Gunnar and Olaf had taken on a new man with a great fondness for hunting and fishing, who looked to have skraeling blood in him, though his name was Finn Thormodsson and he spoke and dressed as a Norseman. He was somewhat old, and had come from the western settlement as a boy of twelve. He had never owned land in the eastern settlement, but had moved from farmstead to farmstead and working at game-taking and tanning skins. After the famine, such men had come to be greatly in demand, for it was said by some that a man’s cattle could no longer carry him through the winter as they once had. Gunnar considered himself lucky to have Finn, and he treated him well.

All these folk sat at Gunnars Stead during the winter, and helped Gunnar to gather together the goods that would be needed for the payment that would regain Asgeir’s second field. Birgitta and the women servants had been busy at their tablet weaving for two winters, and had produced a green and white altar cloth with a wide border, that depicted the angel speaking to the Virgin Mary of the coming of the Lord. Olaf had gotten together a great pile of sheepskins, half of them white and half black, and the dairy had furnished two dozen large round cheeses. There were reindeer hides from the great hunt and bags of seal blubber. But the man Finn had done something few had done since the end of the Northsetur, and that was to procure a narwhal tusk and a white hawk, which he was training. These were very desirable and valuable goods, and Gunnar expected that Sira Jon would be pleased with them, even though he was not friends with the Gunnars Stead folk.

Days passed quietly at Gunnars Stead, and the winter was no colder than previous ones, Lent no longer, and Easter no warmer. The sheep were just beginning to lamb when the time arrived for Gunnar to take his goods to Gardar and reclaim Asgeir’s second field. The custom was in such cases that on the day nine years to the day after the sentence was passed, the guilty man or his heirs would appear with goods to a value already fixed upon, pay them over, and receive his rights again, but if he did not appear on this day, then he was to lose his rights permanently and the duty of the bishop, or in this case, his representative, was to dispose of the confiscated property as he saw fit. Everyone in the district knew which day this was to be—two days before the feast of St. Hallvard of Oslo—and Pall Hallvardsson went forth himself to Gardar to make sure of Sira Jon.

Now it happened that on the evening before the day of the journey, the goods were placed in chests and all things were made ready, as Gunnar and Olaf intended to stay at Gardar for two or three days, and then the folk went to their bedclosets and slept.

After dark, some men came over the hill from the south, and they were servants of Erlend Ketilsson, led by Ketil the Unlucky, who was now a young man with an evil reputation about the district. There were six in the band. The first thing they did was to drag the two small Gunnars Stead boats north over the hill to the waters of the fjord, where they set them adrift. After this, they returned to Gunnars Stead and began to round up the four horses, thinking to take them into the mountains and hobble them where they would be difficult to find, but it so happened that the mare Mikla would not at first allow herself to be caught, and when she was caught through the effort of four of the men, she began whinnying and fighting so that Ketil took out his knife and cut her throat and left her lying in the horse pen. The other horses were taken off and left at the spot where Skuli Gudmundsson had met his death. The Gunnars Stead folk slept as if under a spell.

Now it was almost morning. Ketil’s last act was to open the fence of the sheep pen and drive the flock into the homefield, where the grass was new and the earth wet from snow melt. When, a while later, Olaf rose to make ready for his journey, he found livestock scattered everywhere.

At Ketils Stead, Erlend and Vigdis made ready their goods, and had them carried to their boat, which was moored near the church in Einars Fjord, and sometime in the morning, they, too, along with Ketil and their steward, set out for Gardar, arriving just after mid-day. Now everyone at Gardar sat still and waited for the appearance of Gunnar and Olaf, but the day went on and then declined into darkness, and they neither came themselves nor sent a message. Pall Hallvardsson sat with Sira Jon so that Erlend might not get at him, and the two priests stayed up through the whole night until the morning light, but day did not shine upon the folk from Gunnars Stead, and Sira Jon came out into the hall and greeted Erlend and Vigdis, and received their goods, but asked them to stay one more day in case Gunnar might show up, for Pall Hallvardsson was determined that Gunnar not be cheated or tricked.

But on this day, the day before the feast of St. Hallvard, a great storm blew off the ice cap so that no journeys could be made, and folk were hard put even to go from the farmstead to the byre, and the ewes at Gardar chose this day to drop their lambs, and so there was a great stir there. This storm lasted all that day and all the next, and then Erlend and Vigdis made ready to go back to Ketils Stead, and as there still had been no message from Gunnar, they were awarded the great field, to have entirely as their own. It happened that as they rowed back to Vatna Hverfi, they espied the two Gunnars Stead boats, smashed to pieces by the storm.

When they arrived at Ketils Stead, Erlend’s shepherd came up to him and took him to one side, and he remarked that a certain gray mare with a dark stripe down her back had been discovered in the horse pen at Gunnars Stead with her throat slit, and at this news, Erlend took Ketil into the dairy house and began to beat him. Erlend was a big, heavy man with large hands, and Ketil was a slight fellow better known for his sour wit than his strength. And Erlend said, “It is certain truth that you are indeed an unlucky fellow, and you have brought our lineage nothing but evil since the day you were born. When you and Vigdis set your heads together, every man can be sure that mischance will follow.” And Ketil lay recuperating from this beating for many weeks. Vigdis only remarked to Erlend, “Most men are pleased to get what they want, especially if it means felling an enemy at the same time.” To this, Erlend replied, “Ill luck only can follow such an unlucky fellow as Ketil Ragnarsson, and you will know this better than anyone one of these days.”

About his misfortunes Gunnar spoke little. One day he took the narwhal tusk to Axel Njalsson, a powerful man, and traded it for a small boat made from the remains of an old ship, and in very good condition. Another day he took the altar cloth the women had made and decorated to Thorkel Gellison in the southern part of the district, and came back a few days later leading a handsome mare who was in foal to the famous gray stallion. The white hawk was set free. The other goods in their chests were put away and not spoken of. The homefield dried up, but it took much labor to break up the hard clods churned up by the sheep, and the hay crop was set back a week or so. Gunnar and Finn Thormodsson could frequently be seen conferring, but the subject of their talk was unknown even to Birgitta, even to Olaf. Olaf buried Mikla on the hillside above the byre, and set up a small cairn over the grave. After that, he worked all the time that he wasn’t sleeping, and never took meals with the rest of the farm folk. It was said in the district that he minded the death of the mare more than the departure of his wife, but if he did, it was not something he mentioned to anyone.