The Sagas of the Icelanders (90 page)

Gunnlaug Serpent-tongue travels to the courts of kings and earls, praising them in verse and earning personal renown and fortune as a poet (see map overleaf). From the sagas we know that Icelanders enjoyed special status throughout the Viking world (and among English kings) for their poetic skills; in effect they were the nation’s first professional authors. The tradition continued well beyond the Saga Age, even though the Norwegian kings had increasing trouble in understanding the ancient idiom in which their praises were sung. Both Snorri Sturluson and his nephew Sturla Thordarson went to Norway and delivered poetic eulogies there in the thirteenth century.

Travels of Gunnlaug Serpent-tongue

1
There was a man named Thorstein. He was the son of Egil, the son of Skallagrim, the son of the hersir Kveldulf from Norway. Thorstein’s mother was named Asgerd. She was Bjorn’s daughter. Thorstein lived at Borg in Borgarfjord. He was rich and a powerful chieftain, wise, tolerant and just in all things. He was no great prodigy of either size or strength, as his father, Egil, had been. Learned men say that Egil was the greatest champion and duellist Iceland has ever known and the most promising of all the farmers’ sons, as well as a great scholar and the wisest of men. Thorstein, too, was a great man and was popular with everyone. He was a handsome man with white-blond hair and fine, piercing eyes.

Scholars say that the Myrar folk – the family descended from Egil – were rather a mixed lot. Some of them were exceptionally good-looking men, whereas others are said to have been very ugly. Many members of the family, such as Kjartan Olafsson, Killer-Bardi and Skuli Thorsteinsson were particularly talented in various ways. Some of them were also great poets, like Bjorn, the Champion of the Hitardal people, the priest Einar Skulason, Snorri Sturluson and many others.

Thorstein married Jofrid, the daughter of Gunnar Hlifarson. Gunnar was the best fighter and athlete among the farmers in Iceland at that time. The second best was Gunnar of Hlidarendi, and Steinthor from Eyri was the third. Jofrid was eighteen years old when Thorstein married her. She was a widow, having previously been married to Thorodd, the son of Tunga-Odd. It was their daughter, Hungerd, who was being brought up at Borg by Thorstein. Jofrid was an independent woman. She and Thorstein had several children, although only a few of them appear in this saga. Their eldest son was named Skuli, the next Kollsvein and the third Egil.

2
It is said that, one summer, a ship came ashore in the Gufua estuary. The skipper was a Norwegian named Bergfinn, who was rich and getting on in years. He was a wise man. Farmer Thorstein rode down to the ship. He usually had the greatest say in fixing the prices at the market,
and that was the case this time. The Norwegians found themselves lodgings, and Thorstein himself took the skipper in, since Bergfinn asked him if he could stay at his house. Bergfinn was rather withdrawn all winter, but Thorstein was very hospitable to him. The Norwegian was very interested in dreams.

One spring day, Thorstein asked Bergfinn if he wanted to ride with him up to Valfell. The Borgarfjord people held their local assembly there in those days, and Thorstein had been told that the walls of his booth had fallen in. The Norwegian replied that he would indeed like to go, and they set out later that day, taking a servant of Thorstein’s with them. They rode until they arrived at Grenjar farm, which was near Valfell. A poor man named Atli, a tenant of Thorstein’s, lived there. Thorstein asked him to come and help them with their work, and to bring with him a turf-cutting spade and a shovel. He did so, and when they arrived at the place where the booths were they all set to work digging out the walls.

It was a hot, sunny day, and when they had finished digging out the walls, Thorstein and the Norwegian sat down inside the booth. Thorstein dozed off, but his sleep was rather fitful. The Norwegian was sitting beside him and let him finish his dream undisturbed. When Thorstein woke up, he was in considerable distress. The Norwegian asked him what he had been dreaming about, since he slept so badly.

‘Dreams don’t mean anything,’ Thorstein answered.

Now when they were riding home that evening, the Norwegian again asked what Thorstein had been dreaming about.

‘If I tell you the dream,’ Thorstein replied, ‘you must explain it as it really is.’ The Norwegian said that he would take that risk.

Then Thorstein said, ‘I seemed to be back home at Borg, standing outside the main doorway, and I looked up at the buildings, and saw a fine, beautiful swan up on the roof-ridge. I thought that I owned her, and I was very pleased with her. Then I saw a huge eagle fly down from the mountains. He flew towards Borg and perched next to the swan and chattered to her happily. She seemed to be well pleased with that. Then I noticed that the eagle had black eyes and claws of iron; he looked like a gallant fellow.

‘Next, I saw another bird fly from the south. He flew here to Borg, settled on the house next to the swan and tried to court her. It was a huge eagle too. As soon as the second eagle arrived, the first one seemed to become rather ruffled, and they fought fiercely for a long time, and I saw that they were both bleeding. The fight ended with each of them falling off the
roof-ridge, one on each side. They were both dead. The swan remained sitting there, grief-stricken and dejected.

‘And then I saw another bird fly from the west. It was a hawk. It perched next to the swan and was gentle with her, and later they flew off in the same direction. Then I woke up. Now this dream is nothing much,’ he concluded, ‘and must be to do with the winds, which will meet in the sky, blowing from the directions that the birds appeared to be flying from.’

‘I don’t think that’s what it’s about,’ said the Norwegian.

‘Interpret the dream as seems most likely to you,’ Thorstein told him, ‘and let me hear that.’

‘These birds must be the fetches of important people,’ said the Norwegian. ‘Now, your wife is pregnant and will give birth to a pretty baby girl, and you will love her dearly. Noble men will come from the directions that the eagles in your dream seemed to fly from, and will ask for your daughter’s hand. They will love her more strongly than is reasonable and will fight over her, and both of them will die as a result. And then a third man, coming from the direction from which the hawk flew, will ask for her hand, and she will marry him. Now I have interpreted your dream for you. I think things will turn out like that.’

‘Your explanation is wicked and unfriendly,’ Thorstein replied. ‘You can’t possibly know how to interpret dreams.’

‘You’ll see how it turns out,’ the Norwegian retorted.

After this, Thorstein began to dislike the Norwegian, who went away that summer. He is now out of the saga.

3
Later in the summer, Thorstein got ready to go to the Althing. Before he left, he said to his wife, Jofrid, ‘As matters stand, you are soon going to have a baby. Now if you have a girl, it must be left out to die, but if it is a boy, it will be brought up.’

When the country was completely heathen, it was something of a custom for poor men with many dependants in their families to have their children exposed. Even so, it was always considered a bad thing to do.

When Thorstein had said this, Jofrid replied, ‘It is most unworthy for a man of your calibre to talk like that, and it cannot seem right to you to have such a thing done.’

‘You know what my temper is like,’ Thorstein replied. ‘It will not do for anyone to go against my command.’

Then he rode off to the Althing, and Jofrid gave birth to an extremely
pretty baby girl. The women wanted to take the child to Jofrid, but she said that there was little point in that, and had her shepherd, whose name was Thorvard, brought to her.

‘You are to take my horse and saddle it,’ Jofrid told him, ‘and take this child west to Egil’s daughter Thorgerd at Hjardarholt. Ask her to bring the child up in secret, so that Thorstein never finds out about it. For I look upon the child with such love that I really have no heart to have it left out to die. Now, here are three marks of silver which you are to keep as your reward. Thorgerd will procure a passage abroad for you out there in the west, and will give you whatever you need for your voyage overseas.’

Thorvard did as she said. He rode west to Hjardarholt with the child and gave it to Thorgerd. She had it brought up by some of her tenants who lived at Leysingjastadir on Hvammsfjord. She also secured a passage for Thorvard on a ship berthed at Skeljavik in Steingrimsfjord in the north, and made provision for his voyage. Thorvard sailed abroad from there, and is now out of this saga.

Now when Thorstein came back from the Althing, Jofrid told him that the child had been exposed – just as he said it should be – and that the shepherd had run away, taking her horse with him. Thorstein said she had done well, and found himself another shepherd.

Six years passed without this coming out. Then one day Thorstein rode west to Hjardarholt, to a feast given by his brother-in-law Olaf Peacock, who was then the most respected of all the chieftains in the west country. Thorstein was warmly welcomed at Hjardarholt, as might be expected.

Now it is said that, one day during the feast, Thorgerd was sitting in the high seat talking to her brother Thorstein, while Olaf was making conversation with other men. Three girls were sitting on the bench opposite them.

Then Thorgerd said, ‘Brother, how do you like the look of those girls sitting opposite us?’

‘Very well,’ he replied, ‘though one of them is by far the prettiest, and she has Olaf’s good looks, as well as the fair complexion and features we men of Myrar have.’

‘You are certainly right, brother, when you say that she has the complexion and features of the Myrar men,’ Thorgerd said, ‘but she has none of Olaf Peacock’s looks, since she is not his daughter.’

‘How can that be,’ Thorstein asked, ‘since she’s your daughter?’

‘Kinsman,’ she answered, ‘to tell you the truth, this beautiful girl is your daughter, not mine.’ Then she told him everything that had happened, and begged him to forgive both her and his wife for this wrong.

‘I cannot blame you for this,’ Thorstein said. ‘In most cases, what will be will be, and you two have smoothed over my own stupidity well enough. I’m so pleased with this girl that I count myself very lucky to have such a beautiful child. But what’s her name?’

‘She’s named Helga,’ Thorgerd replied.

‘Helga the Fair,’ mused Thorstein. ‘Now you must get her ready to come home with me.’

And so she did. When he left, Thorstein was given splendid gifts, and Helga rode home to Borg with him and was brought up there, loved and cherished by her father and mother and all her relatives.