The Greenlanders (71 page)

“I have told you before that Ofeig must be outlawed by some means or another, and indeed, it should be quick enough work. I must say, with all respect and affection, that you have been remiss in not getting an action brought by Jon Andres Erlendsson. He wishes to be a respected fellow, folk say.”

“I have spoken to him, but he sees Ofeig differently. He is reluctant. He has no answer other than that he can’t bring an action, although he is courteous enough about it.”

“Then many farmers must go to him at the Thing, and he must be shown how a worthy man does his business, and acquits himself with his neighbors. I shall not go with you, but I will speak to others. You must go to Bjorn Bollason and to Ragnleif Isleifsson, who is the most prominent farmer in Brattahlid.” And so they set about finding support, and this took most of the first day.

This support was not as easy to find as Gunnar considered it would be, for it is the case that however apparent an evil is, men are reluctant to take it upon themselves to rectify it, and many obstacles stand in the way of action, and the greatest obstacle is this, that men do not care to do what they are not in the habit of doing. Twelve men went with Thorkel to Jon Andres Erlendsson on the morning of the second day, and these were the men: Bolli Bjornsson, the eldest son of the lawspeaker, who had recently taken over Hoskuld’s steading in Dyrnes; Arni Magnusson, a prosperous farmer in Vatna Hverfi district and Thorkel’s friend and neighbor; Ozur Osmundsson, the stepson of Ragnleif Isleifsson and the son of Osmund Thordarson, the former lawspeaker; Ragnleif himself, although he was old and bent with the joint ill; Bardi Helgason, a neighbor of Arnkel; his brother, Eyolf Helgason; Thorkel’s own son, Skeggi; and Jona’s brother, Hrolf. Four men from Hvalsey Fjord went as well, including Hakon Haraldsson, Gunnar’s near neighbor.

Jon Andres Erlendsson’s booth was a large and commodious one, and he invited all of the men inside and offered them refreshment. When they declined this, he said, “It must be the case that you have come to speak with me about Ofeig, for indeed, that is the only thing Thorkel ever wishes to speak to me about.” He smiled.

Ragnleif Isleifsson said, “It is true that Ofeig forms part of our concern, but we have more general things to say. A man who won’t defend himself when injury is done to him shows that he thinks little of himself.”

“I do not think little of myself, nor indeed, of my mother, but it seems to me that I am much to blame in her death.”

“You were prepared to take Ofeig or even to kill him when you stood your men about Gunnars Stead and Einar Marsson was killed.”

“In the heat of events, men are often prepared to do what they later regret doing. I regret the death of Einar, who was my companion and friend. I regret a great deal of mischief that I was a part of for many years, although it seemed a pleasure at the time. I regret that folk have been injured at my hands and the hands of my friends. I have put aside the doing of mischief now.”

“Now Ofeig has come among these other folk, who can ill afford him, and folk say he abuses them, and has his way with the wife.”

“Perhaps this is the case, and perhaps it is not. It seems to me that Ofeig is ill-bred and ill-mannered, and it is also the case that he has to live somehow. Perhaps his father would care to take him in, or to find him an abandoned steading in the neighborhood. It does not seem to me that the case is so severe as you make it out to be. I do not see what will make me agree to summon Ofeig and bring an action against him. My father was a litigious man, and got little but ill feeling from it. It seems to me that cases at the Thing end in fighting and killing sooner or later, and always have.”

Now Ragnleif said, “There was a time when the king’s ombudsman would have taken care of these matters, but now we must rely upon the will of folk themselves.”

Jon Andres replied, “I see these things differently than you,” and Bolli Bjornsson colored in anger, and said, “There is no room in these things for each man to see them in his own way. Sira Pall Hallvardsson would say that the Greenlanders are too wayward for their own good.”

Now Thorkel said, “It seems to me that the result of these discussions and hesitations will be very ill, and we will look back upon them with regret. But I see that the master of Ketils Stead thinks himself a great fellow, and is proud of his opinions. Nothing we can say will move him.” Now the men stood up and went out of Jon Andres’ booth, and they spoke of whether Ofeig might be dealt with if a case were not proved against him, but everyone was reluctant to take this course, or, at least, to have others know that he wished to take this course.

Thorkel went back to Gunnar’s booth and reported that the fox had turned into a lamb, and that he half expected to see a halo form over the fellow’s head, or one of those amulets with O.G.N.S. to appear around his neck. “In short,” he said, “someone living at Ketils Stead has refused to summon a case, and soon we may anticipate wine grapes growing at Gardar.” He was much put out. And after he left, a surprising thing happened, and that was that Jon Andres Erlendsson appeared at Gunnar’s booth with some men that he knew, all prosperous farmers from Vatna Hverfi district, and he asked for Helga Gunnarsdottir in marriage.

Now Gunnar invited the men inside his booth and asked them to sit down, and the men, who numbered seven, with Jon Andres, were all men Gunnar had known in Vatna Hverfi district, or else the sons of these men. They were men whose envy of Asgeir had turned into pleasure at the trick that had done Gunnar out of his steading, or so it seemed to Gunnar. Although they sat about smiling, as folk do when there is talk of marriage, their smiles seemed evil and false to Gunnar, and aroused in him a painful sense of shame that he had not especially felt since his removal to Hvalsey Fjord. These were men who had amused themselves by repeating the verses of Ketil the Unlucky against Margret Asgeirsdottir, who had clung tight to Erlend Ketilsson in every case against Gunnar, who had gossiped about the Gunnars Stead folk whenever they could. Now one of them said to Gunnar, “My friend, it is not usual for a man to remain silent when the master of such a steading as Ketils Stead, and all the steadings that go together with it, makes such a proposal.”

Gunnar said, “Indeed, I must hold on to my thoughts if I am to make something of them. I had no notion of this.”

“But the maiden is well past the ideal marriage age. How many different thoughts can there be of such a case?”

Now Jon Andres Erlendsson said, “A man must come to a reply in his own way, and it seems to me wise to let him do so, rather than to distract him and tempt his annoyance.” And so everyone sat about for a little while longer. Gunnar looked at the fellow, and he saw that he had not lost this quality that he had had earlier, when defending himself in the action of Kollgrim’s dunking, a quality of smoothness and charm that had to be likened to something bright—a fire, or a star. If Helga’s gaze were to reveal something unsightly about him, Gunnar could not imagine what it would be. And his friends looked to him in all things, it was easy to see that. Gunnar looked away from him, and reminded himself of the injuries done to him and his father by this man and Erlend, and even Ketil, if old stories were to be believed. Jon Andres said, “Old man, you are scowling, and thinking of what has gone before, but it seems to me that these things may be laid to rest now, for I am heartily sorry for my father’s sins and my own.” The other men smiled and nodded in approval at this speech.

“Nay,” said Gunnar, “I am thinking of what is to come, for business remains unfinished that endangers many folk, and it seems to me a sign of unwisdom to let it linger.”

“I have spoken about Ofeig many times, until I am asleep with the tedium of it.” And in spite of himself, he flushed in anger, although he spoke mildly, and at the sight of this anger, Gunnar, too, grew angry, and turned away from the men, saying, “I am accustomed to referring such matters to the woman herself, but in this case, I have no hesitation in declining the offer.” And so the men got up and went off, and news of this offer and its result went about the Thing. In this, folk said, Gunnar showed himself to be the unlucky fellow he had always been. And that evening, the Thing broke up and folk returned to their own districts.

Later in the summer it happened that Kollgrim was hunting with some men, and they began to twit him with the failure of Helga’s marriage offer, and Kollgrim said, “A maiden is unlucky to marry out of a good steading and into a poor one,” but in fact he knew nothing of this offer. The others laughed, and one of them said, “Now that is the first time Ketils Stead has been called a poor steading that I’ve heard.” Kollgrim said nothing in answer to this, and soon the men divvied up the game they had gotten, and went back to their steadings. When he got to Gunnars Stead, Kollgrim was silent and gloomy, and did not greet Helga with his usual affection. Helga set before him for his meat a bowl of rich broth, but after a few bites, he pushed it from him, spilling some on the eating board. Now Helga sat down beside him on the bench and put her fingers lightly into his hair. She said, “It seems to me that you are downcast, my brother, but things have gone especially well for us this summer. Our father can have no complaints about how we get on here.”

“I am not thinking of our father.”

“Perhaps you are thinking of our mother. She—”

“Nay, I am not thinking of our mother.” Now Kollgrim got up and walked out of the steading, and when Helga went after him a little while later, she saw that he was standing out by the homefield fence, gazing off into the distance. She began to be afraid that they must prepare for one of his spells of confusion and grief, and she made such prayers as she always did during these spells, that he would return to himself, that he would hurt no one, and especially not himself, in his grief, that she would have the strength to endure if things went on for a long time. Now she went to the dairy, and called for Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, and said, “It seems to me that our Kollgrim is discontented by this trip he has come back from. We must not be afraid, but must deal with him strongly if we have to. You should go to your bedcloset and shake out the clothes, and carry some soothing herbs in there, and also comb your hair and put on a bit of decoration. Perhaps such things will distract him.”

Now Elisabet did what Helga had asked her to do, and she looked very pretty, Helga thought, so Helga gave her a trencher with some pieces of dried meat on it, and sent her out to where Kollgrim was standing, but he declined the food, and seemed not to see the loveliness of the girl, and Helga grew more fearful. Sometime after this, Helga and Elisabet and the servingmen went to the bedclosets, and Helga lay awake for a long time, but she never heard Kollgrim come into the steading, and so she dropped off to sleep. Now this state went on for two more days, but did not change to such weeping as Helga expected, and on the third day, at his morning meat, Kollgrim looked up at Helga from where he was sitting at the table, and said, “The farmer at Ketils Stead has made an offer of marriage for you to our father.” And he looked at her closely, and Helga dropped the spoon she was holding. Kollgrim went on, “It seems to me that you will allow yourself to be stolen away by him, although things at that steading can’t be better for you than things here. But women are deceptive and weak, and we are mistaken to place our trust in them.”

Helga replied, “This offer means nothing to me, and this is the first time I have heard of it. If our father turned it down, then you have little to concern yourself with, it seems to me.”

“Then you have not been holding conversations with the fellow when I am gone off on hunting trips?”

“When you are off on hunting trips, there is little time for conversation even with the servants.”

“But you think of the fellow enough.”

“Nay, Kollgrim, you misjudge me severely.”

“You would like to be married, I’m sure, tupping and rutting, as the mares do.”

Helga fell silent, astonished, for Kollgrim had never made such a speech to her before, and she had no breath to speak. He said, “You see, I have spoken what is in your mind. You are not as deceptive as you may try to be.”

“My Kollgrim, I am little used to such cruelties as these from you.”

“But you think of leaving me.”

“For ten summers, my father has thought of taking me to the Thing and finding me a husband. A woman must always think of leaving her home.”

“I see that you try to deflect me with quibbling, but if you are my friend, then you will say what has been in your mind.”

“Nay, Kollgrim, I will not say anything more to you.” And after this, for six days, Helga would have no conversation with her brother. On the seventh day it happened that a storm came up and blew some meat drying racks down, and all the folk of the steading went out and began to work at setting them up again, and during this work, Helga and Kollgrim exchanged some words, so that Helga was sorry for her hardheartedness, and said, “Every day that I have no talk with you, my brother, is a sorry day for me.”

“Say what you have been thinking, then, and admit what encouragement you have given the master of Ketils Stead.” And Helga saw that his anger at her was undiminished, and she closed her lips tight. A day or so later, Kollgrim went off again, as the time was at hand for the autumn seal hunt. And now, while she was busy cleaning and preparing the storerooms for the meat and blubber Kollgrim would bring home, thoughts of Jon Andres Erlendsson did come to her, so thick that she could not keep them off. She could remember his looks exactly, although it was the case that she had seen him only a few times, and for the most recent of those times, she had been afraid to look at him, but she must have seen him somehow, because she remembered his long red cloak, and the pattern that ran up the side of his boots. She remembered his face, which was thinner and more pointed than the faces in her family, and broadened at the top to a wide, smooth forehead topped by luxuriant curly dark hair. When he was serious, his face had one shape, and was all forehead, but when he smiled suddenly, his face changed to a balanced whole, for his smile was wide and white. That she remembered these particulars so clearly magnified the sting of Kollgrim’s wrath, and made her ashamed. She was greatly unhappy for the entire duration of the seal hunt, and for the first time in her life found her work so taxing that she was tempted to slight it. Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, too, seemed cast down, for Kollgrim had treated her angrily two or three times before his departure. The days were very long.