The Sagas of the Icelanders (92 page)

7
King Ethelred, the son of Edgar, was ruling England at that time. He was a good ruler, and was spending that winter in London. In those days, the language in England was the same as that spoken in Norway and Denmark, but there was a change of language when William the Bastard conquered England. Since William was of French descent, the French language was used in England from then on.

As soon as he arrived in London, Gunnlaug went before the king and greeted him politely and respectfully. The king asked what country he was from. Gunnlaug told him – ‘and I have come to you, my lord, because I have composed a poem about you, and I should like you to hear it’.

The king said that he would. Gunnlaug recited the poem expressively and confidently. The refrain goes like this:

The king thanked him for the poem and, as a reward, gave him a cloak of scarlet
^*
lined with the finest furs and with an embroidered band stretching down to the hem. He also made him one of his followers. Gunnlaug stayed with the king all winter and was well thought of.

Early one morning, Gunnlaug met three men in a street. Their leader was named Thororm. He was big and strong, and rather obstreperous.

‘Northerner,’ he said, ‘lend me some money.’

‘It’s not a good idea to lend money to strangers,’ Gunnlaug replied.

‘I’ll pay you back on the date we agree between us,’ he promised.

‘I’ll risk it then,’ said Gunnlaug, giving Thororm the money.

A little while later, Gunnlaug met the king and told him about the loan.

‘Now things have taken a turn for the worse,’ the king replied. ‘That fellow is the most notorious robber and thug. Have nothing more to do with him, and I will give you the same amount of money.’

‘Then your followers are a pretty pathetic lot,’ Gunnlaug answered. ‘We trample all over innocent men, but let thugs like him walk all over us! That will never happen.’

Shortly afterwards, Gunnlaug met Thororm and demanded his money back, but Thororm said that he would not pay up. Then Gunnlaug spoke this verse:

‘Now I’ll give you the choice the law provides for,’ said Gunnlaug. ‘Either you pay me my money or fight a duel with me in three days’ time.’

The thug laughed and said, ‘Many people have suffered badly at my hands, and no one has ever challenged me to a duel before. I’m quite ready for it!’

With that, Gunnlaug and Thororm parted for the time being. Gunnlaug told the king how things stood.

‘Now we really are in a fix,’ he said. ‘This man can blunt any weapon just by looking at it. You must do exactly as I tell you. I am going to give you this sword, and you are to fight him with it, but make sure that you show him a different one.’

Gunnlaug thanked the king warmly.

When they were ready for the duel, Thororm asked Gunnlaug what kind of sword he happened to have. Gunnlaug showed him and drew the sword, but he had fastened a loop of rope around the hilt of King’s Gift and he slipped it over his wrist.

As soon as he saw the sword, the berserk said, ‘I’m not afraid of that sword.’

He struck at Gunnlaug with his sword, and chopped off most of his shield. Then Gunnlaug struck back with his sword King’s Gift. The berserk left himself exposed, because he thought Gunnlaug was using the same weapon as he had shown him. Gunnlaug dealt him his death-blow there and then. The king thanked him for this service, and Gunnlaug won great fame for it in England and beyond.

In the spring, when ships were sailing from country to country, Gunnlaug asked Ethelred for permission to do some travelling. The king asked him what he wanted to do.

‘I should like to fulfil a vow I have made,’ Gunnlaug answered, and spoke this verse:

‘And so it will be, poet,’ said the king, giving him a gold arm ring weighing six ounces. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘you must promise to come back to me next autumn, because I don’t want to lose such an accomplished man as you.’

8
Then Gunnlaug sailed north to Dublin with some merchants. At that time, Ireland was ruled by King Sigtrygg Silk-beard, the son of Olaf Kvaran and Queen Kormlod. He had only been king for a short while.
^*
Straight away, Gunnlaug went before the king and greeted him politely and respectfully. The king gave him an honourable welcome.

‘I have composed a poem about you,’ Gunnlaug said, ‘and I should like it to have a hearing.’

‘No one has ever deigned to bring me a poem before,’ the king replied. ‘Of course I will listen to it.’

Gunnlaug recited the drapa, and the refrain goes like this:

And it contains these lines as well:

The king thanked Gunnlaug for the poem, and summoned his treasurer.

‘How should I reward the poem?’ he asked.

‘How would you like to, my lord?’ the treasurer said.

‘What kind of reward would it be if I gave him a pair of knorrs?’ the king asked.

‘That is too much, my lord,’ he replied. ‘Other kings give fine treasures – good swords or splendid gold bracelets – as rewards for poems.’

The king gave Gunnlaug his own new suit of scarlet clothes, an embroidered tunic, a cloak lined with exquisite furs and a gold bracelet which weighed a mark. Gunnlaug thanked him profusely and stayed there for a short while. He went on from there to the Orkney Islands.

In those days, the Orkney Islands were ruled by Earl Sigurd Hlodvesson. He thought highly of Icelanders. Gunnlaug greeted the earl politely and said that he had a poem to present to him. The earl said that he would indeed listen to Gunnlaug’s poem, since he was from such an important family in Iceland. Gunnlaug recited the poem, which was a well-constructed flokk. As a reward, the earl gave him a broad axe, decorated all over with silver inlay, and invited Gunnlaug to stay with him.

Gunnlaug thanked him for the gift, and for the invitation, too, but said that he had to travel east to Sweden. Then he took passage with some merchants who were sailing to Norway, and that autumn they arrived at
Kungalf in the east. As always, Gunnlaug’s kinsman, Thorkel, was still with him. They took a guide from Kungalf up into Vastergotland and so arrived at the market town named Skarar. An earl named Sigurd, who was rather old, was ruling there. Gunnlaug went before him and greeted him politely, saying that he had composed a poem about him. The earl listened carefully as Gunnlaug recited the poem, which was a flokk. Afterwards, the earl thanked Gunnlaug, rewarded him generously and asked him to stay with him over the winter.

Earl Sigurd held a great Yule feast during the winter. Messengers from Earl Eirik arrived on Yule eve. They had travelled down from Norway. There were twelve of them in all, and they were bearing gifts for Earl Sigurd. The earl gave them a warm welcome and seated them next to Gunnlaug for the Yule festival. There was a great deal of merriment. The people of Vastergotland declared that there was no better or more famous earl than Sigurd; the Norwegians thought that Earl Eirik was much better. They argued about this and, in the end, both sides called upon Gunnlaug to settle the matter. It was then that Gunnlaug spoke this verse:

Both sides, but particularly the Norwegians, were pleased with this assessment. After Yule, the messengers left with splendid gifts from Earl Sigurd to Earl Eirik. They told Earl Eirik about Gunnlaug’s assessment. The earl thought that Gunnlaug had shown him both fairness and friendliness, and spread the word that Gunnlaug would find a safe haven in his domain. Gunnlaug later heard what the earl had had to say about the matter. Gunnlaug had asked Earl Sigurd for a guide to take him east into Tiundaland in Sweden, and the earl found him one.

9
In those days, Sweden was ruled by King Olaf the Swede, the son of King Eirik the Victorious and Sigrid the Ambitious, daughter of Tosti the Warlike. He was a powerful and illustrious king, and was very keen to make his mark.

Gunnlaug arrived in Uppsala around the time of the Swedes’ Spring Assembly. When he managed to get an audience, he greeted the king, who welcomed him warmly and asked him who he was. He said that he was an Icelander. Now Hrafn Onundarson was with the king at the time.

‘Hrafn,’ the king said, ‘what family does this fellow come from in Iceland?’

A big, dashing man stood up from the lower bench, came before the king and said, ‘My lord, he comes from the finest of families and is the noblest of men in his own right.’

‘Then let him go and sit next to you,’ the king said.

‘I have a poem to present to you,’ Gunnlaug said, ‘and I should like you to listen to it properly.’

‘First go and sit yourselves down,’ the king commanded. ‘There is no time now to sit and listen to poems.’

And so they did. Gunnlaug and Hrafn started to chat, telling one another about their travels. Hrafn said that he had left Iceland for Norway the previous summer, and had come east to Sweden early that winter. They were soon good friends.

One day when the assembly was over, Hrafn and Gunnlaug were both there with the king.

‘Now, my lord,’ Gunnlaug said, ‘I should like you to hear my poem.’

‘I could do that now,’ the king replied.

‘I want to recite my poem now, my lord,’ Hrafn said.

‘I could listen to that, too,’ he replied.

‘I want to recite my poem first,’ Gunnlaug said, ‘if you please.’

‘I should go first, my lord,’ Hrafn said, ‘since I came to your court first.’

‘Where did our ancestors ever go with mine trailing in the wake of yours?’

Gunnlaug asked. ‘Nowhere, that’s where! And that’s how it’s going to be with us, too!’

‘Let’s be polite enough not to fight over this,’ Hrafn replied. ‘Let’s ask the king to decide.’

‘Gunnlaug had better recite his poem first,’ the king declared, ‘since he takes it badly if he doesn’t get his own way.’

Then Gunnlaug recited the drapa he had composed about King Olaf,
and when he had finished, the king said, ‘How well is the poem composed, Hrafn?’

‘Quite well, my lord,’ he answered. ‘It is an ostentatious poem, but is ungainly and rather stilted, just like Gunnlaug himself is in temperament.’

‘Now you must recite your poem, Hrafn,’ the king said.

He did so, and when he had finished, the king asked: ‘How well is the poem put together, Gunnlaug?’

‘Quite well, my lord,’ he replied. ‘It is a handsome poem, just like Hrafn himself is, but there’s not much to either of them. And,’ he continued, ‘why did you compose only a flokk for the king, Hrafn? Did you not think he merited a drapa?’

‘Let’s not talk about this any farther,’ Hrafn said. ‘It might well crop up again later.’ And with that they parted.

A little while later, Hrafn was made one of King Olaf’s followers. He asked for permission to leave, which the king granted.

Now when Hrafn was ready to leave, he said to Gunnlaug, ‘From now on, our friendship is over, since you tried to do me down in front of the court. Sometime soon, I will cause you no less shame than you tried to heap on me here.’

‘Your threats don’t scare me,’ Gunnlaug replied, ‘and I won’t be thought a lesser man than you anywhere.’

King Olaf gave Hrafn valuable gifts when they parted, and then Hrafn went away.

Hrafn left the east that spring and went to Trondheim, where he fitted out his ship. He sailed to Iceland during the summer, and brought his ship into Leiruvog, south of Mosfell heath. His family and friends were glad to see him, and he stayed at home with his father over the winter.

Now at the Althing that summer, Hrafn the Poet met his kinsman Skafti the Lawspeaker.

‘I should like you to help me ask Thorstein Egilsson for permission to marry his daughter Helga,’ Hrafn said.

‘Hasn’t she already been promised to Gunnlaug Serpent-tongue?’ Skafti answered.

‘Hasn’t the time they agreed passed by now?’ Hrafn countered. ‘Besides, Gunnlaug’s so proud these days that he won’t take any notice of this or care about it at all.’

‘We’ll do as you please,’ Skafti replied.

Then they went over to Thorstein Egilsson’s booth with several other men. Thorstein gave them a warm welcome.

‘My kinsman Hrafn wants to ask for the hand of your daughter Helga,’ Skafti explained. ‘You know about his family background, his wealth and good breeding, and that he has numerous relatives and friends.’

‘She is already promised to Gunnlaug,’ Thorstein answered, ‘and I want to stick to every detail of the agreement I made with him.’

‘Haven’t the three winters you agreed between yourselves passed by now?’ Skafti asked.

‘Yes,’ said Thorstein, ‘but the summer isn’t gone, and he might yet come back during the summer.’

‘But if he hasn’t come back at the end of the summer, then what hope will we have in the matter?’ Skafti asked.

‘We’ll all come back here next summer,’ Thorstein replied, ‘and then we’ll be able to see what seems to be the best way forward, but there’s no point in talking about it any more at the moment.’

With that they parted, and people rode home from the Althing. It was no secret that Hrafn had asked for Helga’s hand.

Gunnlaug did not return that summer. At the Althing the next summer, Skafti and Hrafn argued their case vehemently, saying that Thorstein was now free of all his obligations to Gunnlaug.

‘I don’t have many daughters to look after,’ Thorstein said, ‘and I’m anxious that no one be provoked to violence on their account. Now I want to see Illugi the Black first.’

And so he did.

When Illugi and Thorstein met, Thorstein asked, ‘Do you consider me to be free of all obligation to your son Gunnlaug?’

‘Certainly,’ Illugi replied, ‘if that’s how you want it. I cannot add much to this now, because I don’t altogether know what Gunnlaug’s circumstances are.’

Then Thorstein went back to Skafti. They settled matters by deciding that, if Gunnlaug did not come back that summer, Hrafn and Helga’s marriage should take place at Borg at the Winter Nights, but that Thorstein should be without obligation to Hrafn if Gunnlaug were to come back and go through with the wedding. After that, people rode home from the Althing. Gunnlaug’s return was still delayed, and Helga did not like the arrangement at all.