The Greenlanders Part 9

Of other matters at Steinstraumstead, there is this to say, that Asta and Margret had made of the place a simple but comfortable steading, and by living with great austerity, they managed to stay there from the time when the ice broke up in Eriks Fjord almost until Yule every year. Margret had gotten for herself ten ewes, and from their milk she made an excellent quant.i.ty of cheese, for the pasturage above the tiny steading was rich and little used. All the steadings up that side of Eriks Fjord were abandoned and she could pasture them for a great distance along the fjord and also as far back into the mountains as the glacier. At Yule they went with her across the fjord to Brattahlid and were bred to Osmund's ram. Also in the summer she spun a great deal of wool and in the winter she wove this into wadmal for the use of folk at Brattahlid, as well as for clothing for herself, Asta, and Sigurd. She was quick at the loom, and was pleased to show the Brattahlid servants what she remembered of the patterns Kristin the wife of Thord of Siglufjord had taught her long ago. Her hair was completely white and her body as thin and hard as a whale bone. She was some forty winters old, and still suffered little if at all from the joint ill. She no longer complained of her dreams. She no longer had recourse to Sira Isleif, and had not taken communion or made a confession in three summers. Sira Isleif was afraid to approach her concerning this matter, for he was a timid man, especially since the death of Marta Thordardottir some two winters before.

Some things were changed at Steinstraumstead, and one of these happened as follows: one day when Sigurd was sitting at his meat, he knocked over his cup of ewe's milk and spilled it into the moss that lay upon the floor of the steading. At once he began to cry, because he was very fond of this drink, and sorry to lose his. Now it happened that Asta, without speaking or considering, took up the other cup of ewe's milk at the table and placed it in front of Sigurd, and he drank it down. This cup of milk belonged to Margret, and at once Asta realized this, and was stricken with mortification, and she and Margret gazed upon each other's faces without speaking for some moments. Then Margret smiled, for she was amused, and she said, "Although you are my servant, Asta, it seems to me that you grow to fill every nook of this place, and all things here flow to Sigurd. We spend our days consulting his pleasure as servants do a peevish master. You grow and flourish as richly as a patch of angelica by the side of a clear stream, but it seems to me that I shrink and harden and shrink and harden, and when I die I will be as a small pebble, and this is not frightening to me, but pleasant."

And Asta, because she had her child beside her, leaning into her so that she could feel the warmth of his body against hers, was somewhat offended by this remark and offered no reply. When Sigurd jumped up and wandered out of the steading, she, too, got up, and went to the vat of ewe's milk from that morning and dipped up another cupful for Margret. This Margret drank, and all of the rest of the evening, Asta dogged Margret's steps and helped her with tasks she was accustomed to doing herself and quieted Sigurd or sent him out of the way when he seemed to be annoying Margret, but by awakening time the next morning these things were forgotten, and Asta went back to thinking first of Sigurd in all things. Margret took some cheese and followed the sheep for the entire day, eating bilberries as she went about the hillsides, and this was a great pleasure to her.

At the farmstead, Asta had begun to look for Koll's visit, for it was at this time of the summer and in such weather, brisk and bright, that he often came to her. This waiting was little agreeable to her, for fear was mixed with eagerness so that she alternately dreaded and yearned for the first sudden meeting. On the one hand, she had grown familiar with and almost fond of Koll's face, so that it seemed as commonplace to her as any Norse face she knew. On the other hand, she had not gotten accustomed to the smell that arose from his clothing and his hands and his hair, and this came over her like a miasma, freshly each time. Fortunately, however, it seemed to go away after he had been near her for a while. Koll also seemed to share her fondness for Sigurd, whom he called by a name in the skraeling tongue. He always brought the boy exquisite gifts, finer even than those he had brought Asta to win her. The boy slept between two snowy white bearskins and as a baby had been swaddled in a length pieced from the fur of blue and white foxes. There were also carvings of ivory and two lamps of the skraeling style as well as various weapons and tools that Asta thought little of but kept for the boy.

As a balance to this antic.i.p.ation, Asta had a great fear of Koll's other fondnesses when he saw her, for he came for the purpose of having intercourse, that was plain to see, and this activity seemed odd and not a little shocking. She had learned at his first reappearance, about a year after the marriage proposal, that to run or scream merely inflamed him and gave him greater strength. And yet the penetration itself, the pinning of her arms and the writhing of his flesh against her made her gasp and choke. This was a thing he wished to do many times during each visit. Each time he did it, Asta thought of Sira Isleif and regretted her sin, for this was sin indeed, but after each time was over, it seemed a small thing in retrospect, and little to pay for such boons as Sigurd and the gifts and, even, the fondness of Koll himself, who slapped her flanks and laughed at her flesh, and chattered about it in the skraeling tongue as if it were a thing of great beauty and pride to him.

Now she sat Sigurd in front of the steading with a basin of water and some other vessels, both whole and broken, and Sigurd set about pouring the water back and forth among the vessels. Then Asta went into the steading and carried out all of the skins of the two beds, and laid them on the hillside in the sun. Then she gathered some birch branches and lashed them together with a willow whip and began to beat the skins so that the fleas and lice rose out of them as well as dirt and dust. After that, she took a comb and set about combing the remaining vermin out of Sigurd's bearskins, and this was something she did four or five times in a summer, more often than most folk, because she was very particular about such things.

As she was engaged in this, Sigurd got up from his play and came over to the furs and began to lie down upon them and roll around on them, laughing merrily, for they were soft and clean and sweet to the skin, and though he was undoing her work, Asta was incapable of wrath at her son, and she merely laughed with him and knelt down and ruffled his hair and put her face close to his and looked at him. His mother's admiration moved the boy to jump up and begin running back and forth on the flat place in front of the steading, as fast as he could. Then he began to gather small stones and toss them down the hill toward the water, for it was his fixed desire to stand just in front of the steading and throw a stone so that it went into the water, although the strip of hillside was some fifty paces in width. He threw these stones with great intensity of thought, one after the other. Asta went back to her work, and finished combing the skins and began to carry them indoors.

In the shade of the steading was a vat of ewe's milk from the morning, and beside it a smaller one from the evening before. Asta went over to these and looked at the milk, then gathered some small pieces of driftwood and a clump of sheep's dung and built a small fire. On this she set a soapstone pot, and into that she poured the night's milk, letting it heat until she could just barely endure to touch it with her finger. Then she poured it out into the morning's milk. Now she went into the steading and got a small basin of b.u.t.termilk from the b.u.t.ter making of the day before, and poured it into the milk. After this she took Sigurd farther down the slope so that there would be no chance of his coming against the vat of milk or disturbing it in any way. She sat with him on the lower slope, looking across to Brattahlid, and she played with him a game that involved their four hands, where she put one of her hands down upon her leg, and he covered it with one of his, and she covered his, and he put his on top. Then she removed her bottom hand and put it on top, and he did the same, and they did this, taking turns, faster and faster. This was the one game Asta could remember playing as a child, and Sigurd enjoyed it very much and could go very fast without becoming confused. Then Asta got up and returned up the hill and gazed upon the vat of milk, and she put her finger into the mixture so that a hole was made that filled up with whey, and from this she knew that the curds were ready to be cut. She went into the steading and returned with a long blade made from the shoulder bone of a reindeer and sharpened, and she cut the curd four times, not hesitating to remove such pieces as Sigurd had a desire for, for fresh curd was a favorite treat with him. And so she went on with the cheesemaking, until the end of the day, when she set the cheese to drip over the vat, wrapped in a piece of clean wadmal and hanging from the eaves of the steading by a hook made from a reindeer antler. And on this day, Koll made no appearance.

Margret returned with the sheep and folded them, and Sigurd went to her and was pleased to see her and carried to her some stones of peculiar shapes and made a gift of them to her. In return she presented him with an ancient ram's horn she had found near the old steading farther up the fjord, and when she came into the steading she could see that Koll had not yet come, and of this she was somewhat glad, for it seemed to her when he did come that it fell upon her as mistress to put a stop to these visits, and yet she could not bring herself to do it, and made many excuses and so he came like this every half year, drawing mistress and servant deeper and deeper into sin.

And after Sigurd went to the bedcloset, the two women sat spinning just outside the door of the steading, by the light of the late sun, and though they did this almost every night of the year, even at Brattahlid, these recent nights they did something else, also, and that was wait. And this new thing that they did made the customary spinning seem especially tedious and difficult. Margret saw that this is how it is that folk are made to desire what they know they should not have, they are made to wait for it, so that when it comes, no matter how dark and full of sin and repellent it is, they are glad enough to welcome it.

It happened that Bjorn Einarsson Jorsalfari stayed among the Greenlanders year after year, and he performed his office as the king's revenue officer just as they wished he might, for he took little revenue from them, and none that he did not pay for with some goods as the Greenlanders wished to have. He traded from time to time with the skraelings and got from them good wares. In addition to this, he saw to the punishment of two men who killed a third man, in the southern part of Vatna Hverfi district, and also of a man who killed his wife out of anger, a man who lived behind Brattahlid where the river came down to Isafjord. There were some boys who smashed up the boat of a neighbor, who were required by Bjorn to put the boat in good order, and there was other business that he did in the southern region, at Herjolfsnes, having to do with a dispute over a stranded whale (for Herjolfsnes sits at the outer reaches of Herjolfs Fjord, and the folk there often have such disputes) and at Arosvik he settled a dispute between the farmers and the church concerning services owed to the church, although the church building itself was in great disrepair and Sira Audun had refused to preach there, insisting instead that the Arosvik folk, of which there were about forty, journey to Petursvik for services. Bjorn Einarsson reprimanded both the folk of Arosvik and Sira Audun and made peace between them, and he decided other cases as well, in as judicious a manner as could be wished for. When he didn't sail away by the end of the second summer, folk ceased speculating when he would leave Greenland. He was much liked by all.

It happened that during Lent of Bjorn's third winter in Greenland there was a hunger similar to the hunger of twelve winters before, only it struck differently, so that the folk in Vatna Hverfi and to the south were greatly affected but the folk at Brattahlid and at Gardar and at Hvalsey Fjord, where the summer weather had been drier and brighter, were not so affected. And the first person to die in this famine was Erlend Ketilsson. This is how it came about. It was still the case that Erlend and Vigdis were living apart, the one at Ketils Stead and the other at Gunnars Stead, and some of the servants were living with one and some were living with the other, except that Erlend's servants had a habit of leaving him and going off to Gunnars Stead, for matters were better ordered there, and Vigdis, for all her n.i.g.g.ardly ways, treated all fairly. There was much intercourse between the servants of both places, and when the servants who had stayed with Erlend gossiped with those who had gone with Vigdis, they were often persuaded to change places. Vigdis was much pleased by this, and rewarded any who came to her with extra food and pleasant tasks. In the meantime, she spoke evil of the servingmaid Ulfhild, who had recently had a daughter by Erlend.

Now this Ulfhild was only some eighteen winters in age, and the daughter of a servingwoman herself, and it was easy to see that she was not a little defeated by the variety of business at Ketils Stead. She did not see how it happened that the storehouses that had once been full had become empty and the servants who had once sat happily at the benches with their trenchers were now departed. As for Erlend, folk said that he fell upon the girl without resting or ceasing, even in the sinful time when she was with child. His antics raised a good deal of laughter about the district, and folk recalled how quickly Vigdis herself had produced a daughter and four sons, although only one of these was still alive.

At Gunnars Stead, though the summer was a cool and damp one, Vigdis' folk were out early and busily, manuring the fields where they could and making expeditions to the fjord for seaweed and to the hillside for angelica and bilberries. At Ketils Stead there was none of this, and what work the remaining servants did was done late and with little will, for the servants saw the idleness of the master and mimicked it.

The short tale of this is that Ketils Stead sheep were lost, cheeses went unmade, cows died in calving because no one was there to help them. Birds in the mountains went unsnared, herbs and berries went ungathered, and Ulfhild gave out things from the storehouses in the middle of summer. Still, everyone in the district was much taken with surprise when Erlend failed to send out messengers with invitations to the usual Ketils Stead feast, and were surprised again when only a few of the Ketils Stead folk appeared at Undir Hofdi church for the Yule services of Sira Audun. But it was also true that Erlend now drove people off sometimes when they came toward Ketils Stead, and so no one cared to go there. It was said that any number of new young women would have no effect on Erlend's temper, which used to be sour, was sour now, and would always be sour. In this fas.h.i.+on the days went by before and after Yule, until at last Vigdis yielded and sent one of her servingmen to Ketils Stead with a message, and this man went on skis and found the door to the steading drifted shut with snow, and when he got it open, he discovered only the dogs alive, and that because they had been gnawing the bones of the folk, which numbered five-Erlend, Ulfhild, two elderly servingmen, and the babe. And this was a tale told avidly in Vatna Hverfi district for a few weeks, until it became clear during Lent that this tale might not be the last such of the winter.

This mischance was followed by another one, this one in Hrafns Fjord and Siglufjord, where the nuns' cloister and the monastery lay. Here it happened that the January thaw was followed by a driving storm of rain that drenched the sheep that had been let out to forage, and filled their eyes and noses so that they were maddened and panicked, and many of them fell over cliffs into the fjords or stumbled into clefts and broke their necks and died, and by the time the rain was over and folk had found their lost sheep, the carcases were rotten from the warm weather, and so Thord Magnusson of Siglufjord and four other farmers and their men went north to Vatna Hverfi district on horseback, although the mud was very deep, and they went seeking food from the Vatna Hverfi folk, who had little to spare. After this Thord and his friends and two men from Vatna Hverfi district went on skates to Gardar, though after the thaw it was considered by many that the ice in Einars Fjord would be treacherous and thin. But Thord would not be dissuaded, and the men arrived at Gardar safely, and at Gardar all was much as usual, and folk were getting up from their meat sated before the meat was gone. Now Sira Jon sent a messenger to Bjorn Einarsson at Thjodhilds Stead and some three days later twelve Eriks Fjord farmers and twenty servants besides appeared dragging sledges over the ice, and these sledges were laden with dried meat and cheese and sour b.u.t.ter, and to this Sira Jon added what he could, which was not a little, and thus the folk of the south were saved, and only those at Ketils Stead and three more who lived at outlying farms, including one outlaw, died in this hunger.

Now the spring came on, and the ice broke up under the winds off the inland ice, and was swept out of the fjords. The farms of the south were much diminished of their sheep and goats and especially cattle, and it happened that some farms were abandoned at Alptafjord and at the head of Ketils Fjord and the folk from these farms moved their belongings down the fjord to Herjolfsnes, where there dwelt a rich and powerful family, still after many generations the lineage of Herjolf and Bjarni Herjolfsson, who was the first man to sight Markland. These Herjolfsnes folk, because their steading had been built near the ocean, had bad years that were stormier and good years that were more prosperous than most folk, and in addition to this, they were a family of sailors. Herjolfsnes was always the first landing place for s.h.i.+ps that came to Greenland and the last for s.h.i.+ps that were leaving. The folk of Herjolfsnes wore the most outlandish clothing, and prided themselves on attending to what was going on elsewhere in the world of men. The head of this family was named Snaebjorn and he had three sons named Ari, Sigtrygg, and Flosi. All of these men were experienced sealers and whalers, and the Herjolfsnes folk relished sealmeat and whalemeat even more than the Hvalsey Fjord folk. They also had some knowledge of the ways of the skraelings in their skin boats, but, of course, little of their skills, for these are reserved to demons and closed to the minds of men. Nevertheless, between the seals and the whales and the bird cliffs and the coming of s.h.i.+ps from afar, the Herjolfsnes folk lived a life that was somewhat peculiar, and it was said in other districts that the hunger back in Alptafjord must have been severe to drive those folk to Herjolfsnes.

Another thing that happened after this hunger was that Bjorn Einarsson Jorsalfari declared his intention of remaining year round at Thjodhilds Stead, which was in Kambstead Fjord, at the back of Hvalsey Fjord, instead of spending part of the year at one farm and part of the year at the other, for he hadn't enough men to make something of both farmsteads, and he preferred the location of Thjodhilds Stead, for it gave his s.h.i.+ps easy access to the sea but also to Gardar and Brattahlid. For this reason it happened that Gunnhild Gunnarsdottir would be within a day's walk of her own home when she went to stay with Solveig for the summer. She was now fourteen winters in age, and it was necessary to take this course for her to learn the ways of her new family, who after all were not Greenlanders and would for this reason do things differently from the Greenland way.

Gunnhild was now half a head taller than her mother and fully grown, so that she seemed to be three or four winters older than she was. She held herself with pride and reserve, which also made her seem less girlish, and she knew well how to spin and weave and sew and make cheese and b.u.t.ter and look after small children, and so when she came to Birgitta one day, after Birgitta had nursed Johanna and took the baby into her arms, Birgitta smiled at her and declared that she carried the little one with as much ease as if it were her own.

"Perhaps, then," said Gunnhild, "I might stay home for another summer, because Johanna is happier with me than she is with Helga, and she cries after me when I leave her."

Birgitta smiled now and said, "Even so, Johanna is learning to walk, and everyone knows that the first thing a baby does when she learns to walk is she walks away from those who care for her. And that is a good time for parting."

"Lavrans says you were not sent off before you were married."

"But, indeed, I was wed at your age, and, in addition, Gunnars Stead daughters always went off, and then it is not so burdensome to them when they leave for good. It is the way with you that you are always reluctant to begin with, but happy when the beginning is over. I have more faith in you than I do in Helga, who rushes into things and is afterward filled with regret."

"Helga can't persuade Kollgrim or Astrid to do their tasks."

"When you are away, she will learn how."

Now Johanna, who had been sitting on Gunnhild's hip, leaned forward and cried to be put down, and so Gunnhild set her on her feet and she took a few steps to the bedcloset and began to walk around it, holding on and looking to Birgitta and Gunnhild for praise. Gunnhild was distracted by this from her thoughts and began to laugh, and Birgitta jumped up and made her escape, for indeed, the plans that they had made for Gunnhild made her somewhat uneasy, and she found it not a little difficult to talk to the child. Since the betrothal and Bjorn's move to Thjodhilds Stead there had been some visiting back and forth, with feasting and tale-telling and the usual amus.e.m.e.nts. The case was that Birgitta and her family did their best to show themselves happy and welcoming to the Thjodhilds Stead folk, and Bjorn and Solveig did the same, and yet, when Birgitta and Gunnar went to the other farmstead, they were annoyed by the stiffness of things, and Solveig's affected manner, and when Bjorn and Solveig visited, Birgitta could see that they, and especially Solveig, were attempting to overlook this and that, out of conscious generosity. Always Solveig's eyes went around the room with veiled dismay, and then fell upon Gunnhild, and Birgitta could see that the other woman was thinking that at least the girl was lovely to look at. Solveig herself was not, and Birgitta found this increasingly disturbing, for each time she saw the other woman she seemed to see only her jiggling chin or the peculiar way she sniffed and blinked when she was talking. During and after these times, she prayed mightily for the grace to look past Solveig's earthly appearance to her soul within, for the woman was as kind as she could be, but the next time Birgitta always failed again.

Einar, too, had an unattractive feature which Birgitta saw that others did not see as she did, and this was a habitual squint from reading and writing. Even Gunnhild had not really seen this thing, but a girl does not see with the clarity of a wife, Birgitta well knew. When she herself had been betrothed and then married to Gunnar, she had been aware mostly of Gunnar's clothes, and the gifts he gave her, and the gifts her father gave her, and her own clothes, and the weight of the sheep against her in the boat as they rowed to Vatna Hverfi, and then again the odd sense of sleeping in a different bedcloset from the one she was used to and the figure next to her that was Margret and not the Lavrans Stead dairy maid, whom she had slept with for some years before moving to Gunnars Stead.

And for a while she had been filled with hatred for all these folk and their ways, and had longed only for visits from her father, but when the first of these came, Lavrans had told her in hard terms, it seemed to her, that it was necessary and proper for a woman to sleep in bed with her husband, and he had chastised her and then himself, and had been very ashamed of the arrangements that had been made at Gunnars Stead. And Birgitta had learned that this thing that they had done after the marriage, fumbling and painful, was not something folk did once, but often, except that it got less painful and somewhat less fumbling. At the beginning she had been pleased with the relief that being with child gave her, and then she had been indifferent, and then between Maria and Johanna, it had seemed a pleasant thing, though rare enough with Astrid and Maria sleeping in the bedcloset between herself and Gunnar.

But it was well known that the years it took to settle into a new family and to learn to tolerate the husband and his ways and his say over everything could not be few, and so it was also well known that a girl should begin early, before her own habits were formed. It was not a secret to Birgitta that there had been much gossip in Vatna Hverfi district about Margret Asgeirsdottir, and folk had said more than once that by the time of her late marriage she was much accustomed to having her own way, and so when Skuli Gudmundsson presented himself, she had her own way in that, and after his death, she ordered things so that she continued to have her own way, in spite of her sin. Though Birgitta had not taken part in this gossip, she largely agreed with it, and deplored the way Margret had behaved. In addition to this, it was clear that Olaf would now be a different sort, less cross-grained with everyone, had Margret not fallen into such unrestrained habits. These things, however, were not such as Birgitta could speak of to Gunnhild, for they were beyond the understanding of a child.

As for Gunnhild, when Birgitta left the steading, she continued to watch over Johanna, and tried to entice her away from the bedcloset and across the room, which was not very big, with smiles and encouragement. Some time later it happened that Kollgrim came into the steading, and whereas Johanna had carefully ignored Gunnhild's entreaties, she turned as soon as she saw the boy and toddled straight to him, a matter of some four steps. And when he picked the child up and gave her into the arms of Gunnhild, then left the steading again, Johanna began to cry after him, and this led Gunnhild herself to weep.

Some days later, Gunnar accompanied Gunnhild to Thjodhilds Stead. They rowed across Hvalsey Fjord to the farm of Orm Guttormsson, who lived in a valley on a neck of land between Hvalsey Fjord and Kambstead Fjord. After refres.h.i.+ng themselves and hearing Orm's news, they walked through the valley to Kambstead Fjord, then along the side of the fjord, and through another valley to Thjodhilds Stead, where Einar, Bjorn, Solveig, the new baby, and some men and servants were awaiting them. This was a journey of about half a day. Solveig offered them further refreshment, including excellent goat cheese, such as Asgeir had been fond of, and sourmilk with honey and berries. After this, Gunnar was put in a good humor, and he began to speak with Einar about his ma.n.u.scripts and writings. Solveig took Gunnhild away and showed her her sleeping closet and her chest and acquainted her with the other folk about the farmstead. The fields had a northerly slope, and there was much ice to be seen in the fjord.

Einar and Gunnar sat at a bench in one of the rooms of the steading and Einar took down some of the writings he had most recently completed. They were about the districts of Greenland. Gunnar read slowly aloud as follows: "Of these many Greenland districts, one of the largest and most populous is Vatna Hverfi district, which contains some twenty farms in the north part of the district and some fifteen farms in the south part of the district, and these farms are set rather close together, by the standards of Iceland, but the land of this district is so rich and the lakes so numerous that all the farms make a good enough living. This district has but one church, called Undir Hofdi, and this is not one of the larger churches of Greenland, for it was built many years ago and has not been rebuilt or expanded as others have. The folk of this district keep many cows and horses, as well as sheep. Some of the wealthier farmers of this district are Thorkel Gellison, Erlend Ketilsson, and Magnus Arnason."

Now Gunnar stopped reading and asked Einar if he had written in this way about every district, and Einar said that he had. "But," said Gunnar, "Erlend has died in the past winter, and you have said nothing of it." But Einar smiled and said that he was little interested in such tales, about men no one knew. When he came back to Iceland, this is what folk would wish to know, about the size of the farms and the life folk made on them. Now Gunnar sat silently for a while. Then he said, "Formerly, when the bishop was alive, boys at Gardar made parchment and learned to write upon it, but now I fear that only Sira Audun has this skill."

"It may be so. Gardar does not seem to me to be a thriving place under the direction of the priest Jon. But it may be that the new bishop will appear soon."

"It may be, indeed." And Gunnar fingered a bit of the parchment. "I have heard that the making of parchment is a difficult thing, asking much skill."

"Most men have such skills. They are a farmer's skills." He lifted up a roll and put it down. "Forming the letters, this is the skill of a priest. Forming the ideas is a rarer thing."

"For now, some would be content to make the parchment."

"It is easily taught."

And in this way Gunnar was kept from his evening meat, for he pa.s.sed so much time at Thjodhilds Stead watching Einar stretch a sheepskin by laces onto a frame he had carried with him from Iceland, and then shave it with a handsome rounded knife that he did not return to Lavrans Stead until all the people there had gone to their bedclosets. After this, he got into the habit of going off to Thjodhilds Stead whenever he could borrow time from the summer's tasks. Gunnhild seemed to him well enough employed. Whenever he saw her, she was going from the dairy to the steading or the storehouse to the dairy, or she was sitting with the baby and the two skraeling children who nursed him, or she was spinning and talking with Solveig about this or that. She knew better than to make much of his visits or to ask to accompany him back to Lavrans Stead, even for a few nights. And so the summer pa.s.sed quietly, and there were no killings or other disturbances in the district and Bjorn Einarsson stayed home for the most part after the end of the Thing.

And the winter, too, pa.s.sed quietly, except that Gunnar was engaged in stretching his own sheepskins over a frame he had made of whale bone, and shaving them with a curved knife sharpened from the shoulder blade of a reindeer, and Gunnhild, who returned at the end of the summer nights, helped him with this work. These tools worked surprisingly well, so that his parchments were smooth and pale and took the merest stroke of bearberry ink, and after Yule he began to write upon them in a large and awkward hand, and the first thing he wrote was as follows: "A man named Erlend Ketilsson lived at Ketils Stead in Vatna Hverfi district, in much conflict with his neighbors. All considered him an ill-tempered and quarrelsome fellow. He was a very prosperous farmer, with a large steading and many outbuildings. Through his entire life he fornicated with a servant woman named Vigdis, and when she grew old, he chose another to fornicate with. As a result of his sin, he and his servant and the child of his servant and two others starved to death at a certain Yule season and were partly eaten by their dogs."

Gunnar was much dissatisfied with this writing and sc.r.a.ped it off the parchment. As for Gunnhild, she was much dissatisfied with everything about Lavrans Stead, and complained without ceasing of how cramped the rooms were, and how humble all the household arrangements. Tales of Solveig and the baby and Bjorn were always on her lips, so that Helga and Kollgrim tormented her with mockery of the way Solveig blinked and talked and took turns breaking into each other's conversation with corrections and other remarks, as was Einar's habit. Even Johanna was unpleasing to Gunnhild, for she greeted her oldest sister as a stranger after so much time, and clung to Astrid, who was a very playful nurse, and fond of games and silliness.

It happened that a few days before Yule there was a great battle among the three older children, in which all ended up weeping, and it was clear to Birgitta that although Helga and especially Kollgrim were excessively teasing toward Gunnhild, she had brought this upon herself by condemning their ways and their clothes and everything about them for the previous two days, and doing her best to make them seem mean and unworthy in their own eyes. Now when they had all been sent to separate bedclosets, Gunnar came to Birgitta in great anger and complained of the uproar, and of Gunnhild especially. Birgitta took a deep breath, and glanced about the room, at her father sleeping by the fire, and the smoky lights cast by the lamps against the turfing of the walls, and at such cloths and tapestries as they had put up to help keep out the wind. A few stools were stacked in the corner and the floor was a heap of moss and much else that didn't bear looking into, and she saw these things, it seemed to her, with Solveig's eyes, and Gunnhild's, and she sighed. Then she turned to Gunnar and declared that as a child of but fifteen years, Gunnhild could not be asked to keep two things in her mind at once, namely the Thjodhilds Stead way and the Lavrans Stead way. And since one had to make way for the other, it was necessary that the old go out and the new come in. The result of this was that on the feast of St. Stephen, Gunnhild and Gunnar went on skis across the fjord and over the hills to Thjodhilds Stead, and Gunnhild stayed there, as a maiden, and came home no more. And this was also the case, that in the disorder of departure, she never once looked over her shoulder, nor did she see her brother and sisters and mother waving after her, but she only went forward, looking for her new home, and this came to Birgitta as an unaccountable grief, no matter how she prayed and told herself that this was the pain of bearing daughters, and folk must always accustom themselves to it. At midsummer, Bjorn Einarsson declared that he was becoming intolerably restless, and had made up his mind to return to Iceland and Norway. And, as his decision was so sudden, there was no time for Gunnhild's wedding feast, but Solveig promised that she should have a brilliant one in Iceland.

And one thing that happened after Bjorn Einarsson, Einar, Solveig, the baby, Gunnhild, and the others left in their four neat s.h.i.+ps was that the farmer Orm Guttormsson agreed to take some of Bjorn's ewes and lambs in trade for a number of sheepskins equal to the number of ewes, but it happened that his seal nets became fouled together, and he was unable to make the trip to Thjodhilds Stead until the day after Bjorn's departure. When he got there, he expected to find the sheep folded, and he did, but before taking them home, he made up his mind to look about the steading and see if anything else had been left behind that might be useful, for Bjorn and his family had a great quant.i.ty of belongings. And he did find something, a nicely carved lamp, of small size, good for lighting, though not for heat. And he also found something else, the corpuses of the two skraeling children who had nursed Solveig's baby. It seemed to Orm that they had climbed an outcropping overlooking Thjodhilds inlet, and pitched themselves into the fjord. The boy's corpus floated in the shallows, catching on the strand, and the girl's was caught by the headdress on some rocks. Orm did not quite know what to do with these corpuses, and so he fished them from the sea and put them in the cowbyre, then a day or so later, he came to Sira Pall Hallvardsson and told of his discovery. These children had been baptized with the names of Josef and Maria, and so Sira Pall Hallvardsson went with Orm and Gunnar and another man and found the corpuses. There was some talk about whether these two children should be buried at the church or not, for it was the law among the Greenlanders that this was prohibited if they had done away with themselves. And so the men spent the greater part of a day walking back and forth around the steading, and looking at the places Orm had found them, and hearing Orm tell his tale over and over.

"Perhaps," Gunnar said, "these children merely ran into the water, and were seized by the cold," for Kambstead Fjord was close to freezing at all times of the year. But no, it was apparent that their bodies were broken from falling, as Orm had said.

"Perhaps," said Hakon, the fourth man, "they merely climbed upon the rock to get a last look at the s.h.i.+ps as they sailed away." And it did seem possible that they might have clutched at each other and in this way pulled each other down, but when Sira Pall Hallvardsson climbed the rock, he saw that the ascent was so easy and full of holds and places to stand that no man could simply slip down into the water.

Now Orm said, "Only I have seen them, and only we have spoken of this. When folk ask, we can tell them that they fell from the rock." But Sira Pall Hallvardsson looked gloomy, and he shook his head, for indeed, the eye of G.o.d sees all, including acts of false mercy. And so these skraeling children, Maria and Josef, were buried a bow shot beyond the homefield wall of Thjodhilds Stead, in sight of the fjord, among some rocks and away from the watercourse that ran down to the steading. Sira Pall Hallvardsson spoke over them, and all of the men were rendered oddly despondent.

Walking back to Orm Guttormsson's farm, Sira Pall Hallvardsson and Gunnar fell to talking of Gunnhild. "Never in Greenland," said Pall Hallvardsson, "can there have been many maidens such as Gunnhild, so fair as to take a man's breath, and yet withal as modest as an alpine blossom and as skillful at her tasks as a maiden twice her age."

Gunnar smiled a little, thinking of Gunnhild's quarrels with Helga and Kollgrim, but said only, "Birgitta Lavransdottir has taken her going much to heart, for indeed, we packed her things up and gave to her sisters what she did not need as if she were going to the grave. We must not hide from ourselves the knowledge that we are likely never to see her again."

"It may be that Bjorn will return, or Einar."

"Folk say that."

"Bjorn himself said it. Perhaps he will go to Norway and gain the ear of the king and queen. They would surely let him come back, for it is not every revenue officer and ombudsman who wishes to come here." And the two men smiled at the memory of Kollbein Sigurdsson.

"Perhaps," said Gunnar, "but Bjorn himself told me that it is common knowledge among sailing folk that the seas get more treacherous every year. He said that twenty s.h.i.+ps used to leave Bergen for Iceland each summer, but now Bergen is much shrunk, and those who send the s.h.i.+ps, as folk have said before, are uninterested in Iceland or Greenland, for they are Germans, not Nors.e.m.e.n."

"It is true that Germans care little for the sea, though they care greatly for trade."

"Perhaps folk will see what Bjorn carries back from Greenland and long to have it themselves. That has happened before."

"Perhaps," said Sira Pall Hallvardsson, "Bjorn will long to have more."

Now Gunnar cast him a glance. "Did you not see in the last half year of Bjorn's stay that look of a man who has eaten his fill? Who turns from the table half-disgusted at the dishes still remaining? Birgitta Lavransdottir says that Bjorn is a man with a great appet.i.te for new things, not so much for accustomed things." He sighed. "Nay, it is best for those such as ourselves, who send our children after what we once wished to have, to make up our minds to give these children up." Now he spoke in a lower voice. "And even if Bjorn or Einar did return, it is the lives of married women that are the most slippery."

"Then," said Sira Pall Hallvardsson, "we must satisfy ourselves with the knowledge of our heavenly meeting."

"We must, indeed. But it seems to me that this thing is hard for a father to do, and for one reason, that much of what draws me to them is the manner in which the pa.s.sing days flit across them, so that they are themselves and yet not the same as they were. When we put off our flesh and appear in the raiment of our eternal souls, perhaps we shall long for this earthly quality."

"It is promised that we shall long for nothing." And Sira Pall Hallvardsson spoke with such longing that Gunnar glanced at him sharply, and when he came home he declared to Birgitta that Sira Pall Hallvardsson was in love with Gunnhild. But Birgitta was more interested to hear of the skraeling children, and she pondered what Gunnar told her of them for a long time, and then, as they were getting under the old bearskin in their bedcloset, she said, "It seems to me that even such grief as theirs was hardly great enough for this event, and I am frightened." But Gunnar did not know how to answer this remark, and said nothing.

After the departure of Bjorn Einarsson Jorsalfari, it fell to Osmund Thordarson to take up his position as lawspeaker again, and he did this with the help of his nephew Isleif. On the one hand, folk didn't care for this unorthodox procedure, but on the other, it was easy to see that Osmund was on his last legs and ready for death, and there was no other farmer of the Brattahlid district who wished to take up the position of lawspeaker. Fridjon, the son of Gizur, the former lawspeaker, had never learned the laws, and was too old to begin, although he was a prosperous man, and Ragnleif, the brother of Isleif, considered that he had too much work to do on his steading, although folk said he had no more than any other man. It was easy to see that the position would fall to Isleif, and soon, for Osmund was old and Isleif knew the laws, but Isleif was a priest, and nearly blind, and without powerful friends in other districts. Osmund called a special Thing in the autumn after Bjorn left, and on each of three days, with the help of Isleif, he spoke one-third of the laws in a weak, reedy voice. There were twenty farmers and their servants and men there to hear him, all of them from Brattahlid, Vatna Hverfi, and Dyrnes districts. Sira Jon was there, along with Sira Pall Hallvardsson and Gunnar Asgeirsson, who came on the second day. And just after the ending of the Thing, there was a storm in Eriks Fjord, and the boat carrying the three farmers and their servants from Dyrnes district was capsized and broken up, and all the men were drowned and all the wood of the boat was swept out of the fjord by the winds and lost.

Upon hearing this news from Sira Pall Hallvardsson, who had it from Orm Guttormsson, who had relatives in Dyrnes district, Birgitta Lavransdottir became much cast down, and wished only to remain in her bedcloset all day, although these men were unknown to her. The autumn work was left to others. And on the third day, Gunnar came to her and asked her to get up and went away again, but she did not get up, and when it was time for the evening meat, she got up neither to prepare it nor to eat what was prepared by Helga and the servingmaid. And during the evening Gunnar said nothing about this, nor did he show anger toward Birgitta; nevertheless, he was much disturbed. Lavrans dozed beside the fire. Olaf sat over the chessboard with Kollgrim. Helga and the servingwomen sat spinning, and Astrid and Maria played a game with Johanna, in which the little girl was spun about and then sent staggering from one sister to the other, and all three children shouted with laughter. Finally, when it appeared that Kollgrim was about to give to Olaf's patience the uttermost test, Gunnar began the following tale: It happened in the time of Erik the Red that there lived in Greenland a young woman named Skadi, who had come on one of Erik's s.h.i.+ps with her father, Thorir. And this man Thorir chose as his steading a large piece of land in the western settlement, and indeed, he and Skadi were the first folk to live there. In addition to this, they chose a piece of land in the north part of that settlement, far from the church and near to the inland ice, for Thorir was a great hunter and he and his daughter much preferred the land of ice and snow. This Thorir was a big, strong fellow, and likewise his daughter was as big as a man, with huge arms and huge legs, but also huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s and long flowing hair, and she was not unpretty, for a certain type. Thorir was a simple fellow, and it happened once that when he was visiting Erik at Brattahlid, a man named Larus tricked him into stealing three silver apples from one of Erik's chests and giving them to him, Larus.

It is well known to all that Erik the Red was a wrathful and impatient man, and when he was told by one of the servingwomen that Thorir had stolen these apples, which were very valuable, and prized very highly by their owner, he went to Thorir and dealt him a heavy blow with his sword, for in those days all Nors.e.m.e.n carried swords, and many had the knowledge of tempering and sharpening a keen blade, and Thorir was badly injured from this blow and soon died, although Erik had repented of his anger and himself nursed the man. Now Erik said to his wife Thjodhild that something must be done for the daughter Skadi, for she would be full of revenge when she heard the news of the death of her father, and of course such news would travel, even as far as Thoristead, and quickly as the blink of an eye or the taking of a breath. And sure enough, some days later, Skadi appeared in the six-oared boat, and she was rowing the boat by herself, she was that strong.

Skadi rowed up Eriks Fjord, and all along the way, the folk in the farms could hear great bellowing as she wept and sighed after Thorir, her father. Now she pulled up to the Brattahlid jetty, and called Erik out of his steading. When he appeared before her, before she could speak, he said, "Now Skadi, what is the price of your father's death? I have much gold, and I will give you self-judgment."

But Skadi said, "My father was a great hunter and a rich man.

And I am his only heir. Your gold is worthless to me." And all this time she was casting her eye upon Leif the Lucky, who was by all accounts very fair to behold. And Erik said, "What will you have, then? For I am very repentant of my wrath."

"I will settle for a husband and a bellyful of laughter," said Skadi, and she looked again, with longing, at Leif. But Erik had other plans for Leif, and Leif himself was little inclined toward the woman, who indeed stood some half a head taller than he did. So Erik said, "Then you may choose any man you would have, with this provision, you must choose according to their feet, and you may not see the man you have married until after the bridal." Skadi agreed to this, and all the men of the farmstead stood behind a tapestry, and Skadi chose the most shapely pair of feet, and she was married. But her husband turned out to be not Leif the Lucky but another man, Erik's best s.h.i.+p pilot, a man by the name of Njord. He was a fine man, but weather-beaten and somewhat old, for he had been on the sea all of his life. Skadi declared that she had been tricked, and was much angered. Njord, on the other hand, was pleased with his wife, and smiled upon her with warmth and kindness. She stepped back and opened her mouth, and he said, "Take care, wife. Remember that these are the first words of your marriage." And so Skadi remained silent, and Erik said to her, "You have found a good husband, and such a one as would not be tricked by Larus. Indeed, you might have chosen Larus, had you been less lucky."

"But," said Skadi, "I have no laughter, and I expect none, now."

"Bring out Larus," said Erik. Some men did so. "Now," said Erik, "it is up to you to make this woman laugh, as you are the author of her grief."

"She does not look to be the laughing sort, sir," was Larus' reply.

"Then your payment will be all the greater," said Erik.

"But let me first tell you what happened to me," said Larus to Erik, and he took a thin strap of walrus hide out of his pocket. "Remember that you told me to take that goat over there and tie him in the upper pasture?" Now Larus looked at Skadi. "You know how goats are, my dear. Wayward and independent." He went across the field to the goat and tied one end of the strap to the goat's beard. "But of course I had other things to carry, as one always does, and so I could only think of one way to lead the goat." He tied the other end of the strap to his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es. "And this was the case, too, that it was early morning, and the flies and fleas were biting something fierce." And just then the goat jumped away, and the strap between the two of them tightened. Larus gave out a great squawk and pulled back. Now the goat became annoyed with this, as goats do, and he began to step backward, and Larus, too, began to step backward, and soon the strap was tight enough to sing when plucked. And now the goat shook its head and Larus stepped backward again, and he grew red in the face and squawked again. Then he said, "Truly, master, this is an unhealthy way to lead a goat," and suddenly the goat lost his footing, then caught it again, and ran at Larus and knocked him down right into the arms of Skadi, who laughed aloud. And then she forgave him for causing the death of her father.

Now Gunnar paused, for he had heard a sound from the bedcloset where Birgitta lay in the dark, but there was no other sound after the first one. The story was finished, and the folk went to their bedclosets, and Birgitta gave no sign that she had heard the story, except that in the morning she got up and went about her tasks, although all could see that she was still in low spirits.

The winter nights came on, and Gunnar began again to sit over his parchment, and as he did this, he too felt a longing for Gunnhild, who only one year before had helped him at this task of parchment making. And then he noticed another thing, and that was that his thoughts were led through Gunnhild to Margret Asgeirsdottir, whom Gunnhild somewhat resembled in stature and manner, and as he sat quietly over his work, the two became a little mixed up in his thoughts-Gunnhild as she had been a year before and Margret as she had been many many years before, when she was thirteen and Gunnar was six winters of age, as Astrid was now, and Hauk Gunnarsson would come and go, and Ingrid and his father stood above him at every turn.

Asta had given birth to another child by the skraeling, and this girl, Bryndis, was now one winter old and more. During the year since her birth, Margret had spent a great deal of time with Sigurd, who was now some seven winters old and more. The reason for this was that Bryndis had been born so small that Asta could fit her in the palm of her hand, and the two women had considered that the child would surely die. Sira Isleif, who came with his servants in answer to the signal fire they made, gave the child baptism and last rites at the same time. Koll, who had stayed not far off, waiting for the birth of another son, was little pleased at such a daughter, and Asta had expressed some fear that he would steal the child and expose it, as skraelings were known to do with girl children. But indeed, Bryndis suckled heartily and slept soundly in the robe of foxskins, and did not die after all, but grew and sat up and crept and walked, just as other children do. She looked like Sigurd, though tiny, and she was exquisite in her tininess, like an ivory miniature. Asta was very fond of her and carried her about on her back, as skraelings do, for when Koll saw that the child would live, he arranged a harness for the baby as his wives used. Then he went off, as always.

Sigurd stayed beside Margret, and was little trouble. In the winter, at Brattahlid, she taught him to spin, and he sat beside her loom, spinning bits of different colored wools together. In the summer, she took him into the mountains with her and showed him the patches of blueberries, where they ate their fill. From time to time she gathered other green things, and she explained the uses of these to him and he listened carefully. He was not like other children she had known, who hung upon her, chattering, or else ran off and got into mischief. He was as silent by nature as she was, but withal very observant and attentive. When he grew playful, it was with an inward sort of amus.e.m.e.nt at her or at some other unusual event. At these times he would laugh and laugh to himself until Margret had to laugh as well, although she rarely knew what she was laughing at. He was not popular at Brattahlid, and in the fall after the departure of Bjorn Einarsson, Margret put off their moving to the estate across the fjord day after day.

Now that Marta Thordardottir was dead, Margret had little desire to live among Osmund's family. Osmund's young wife, Gudrunn, was a meek, hiding sort of person who nevertheless had strong likes and dislikes, and it happened, as it often does, that after her husband's sister died, it turned out that she disliked all those things that the other woman had liked. Osmund himself was palsied and old, particularly since the special autumn Thing, for the saying of the laws had been beyond his strength, and he spent much of the rest of the autumn in his bedcloset. Sira Isleif stayed among his mother's brother's family and gave services and buried folk at Thjodhilds church, but he was no longer honored as he had once been. Gudrunn blamed him for his dim eyesight, and thought him clumsy and troublesome, and was, in addition, annoyed with him for his pride in himself. Soon enough it would be time for him to go off to live with Ragnleif, but then the trek to Thjodhilds church would be longer and his duties more difficult, and so he was putting off this move. In the meantime, he was not especially welcoming toward Margret, for after the death of Marta, she had ceased accepting his ministrations or counsel.

As she put off the trip from day to day, it seemed to Margret just possible that they might winter at Steinstraumstead, if they prepared for it for the entire previous summer and if the winter was a short, snowy one, and if some large pieces of driftwood could be obtained and if they surrounded the tiny steading with another course of turf and if, to be honest, Koll appeared after Yule with extra provisions. Except that he would look for them at Brattahlid. And this was another provocation to Gudrunn, the yearly visit of Koll, whom she called, "that servingmaid's demon." In this view, as in no other, she was supported by Sira Isleif.

And so the first winter nights came, but this was earlier than Margret had ever gone to Brattahlid. And then, according to the stick calendar Margret had made herself, came the ma.s.s of St. Kolumban, and soon enough after that the feast of St. Andrew. Always by this time in past years they had made their pa.s.sage across the fjord. In early years, in fact, Marta had sent servingmen for them, to help them over the ice, for the fjord was well iced up, a smooth surface for skating or skiing. But still the coldest part of the winter had not set in, and the four of them were comfortable enough. Another few days went by, and it was the feast of St. Nikolaus; Advent had begun. They sat down at their morning meat and Margret saw that there were but three cheeses and some dried sealmeat remaining, and in addition to this, the sheep could no longer paw through the snow to any gra.s.s, as the snow was too deep. Margret said, "We will take two of these cheeses to Gudrunn Jonsdottir tomorrow." Asta nodded.

But on the next day, they awoke to a snowstorm that blanketed sight and this storm continued for still another day, and on the morning of the third day there was but a single cheese to be taken to Brattahlid, and a wedge cut out of it to boot. Margret considered, as she had never done in the days of Marta Thordardottir, how she might make her party welcome, or at least avoid scorn until she could finish some weaving. She went through her belongings to find some little gift, and her hand came upon some tablet weaving, a border for a shawl in bluish-gray and white, and she folded this up and put it in her bundle.

The two women had decided that Asta would carry Bryndis and some other articles on her back, and also drag behind her a sealskin bag full of necessities. Margret and Sigurd would herd the five sheep before themselves, and the trip would take a morning or a little more. When they got outside the steading, however, they saw that the snow was much deeper now than when they had made their plans, and that Sigurd would have to go on someone's back, namely Margret's, although he was almost too large for her to carry. And so they strapped on their short skis and made their way, with the sheep in front of them, down the hillside to the fjord. Sigurd sat in a piece of wadmal tied around Margret's back and neck, as Gunnar had done once. The sheep were weak from hunger, which had this advantage, that they did not care to frisk away or wander off, but this disadvantage, that even under the best circ.u.mstances, one or more of them might not make it all the way to Brattahlid. On a day in summer, the red buildings of Brattahlid were clearly visible across the fjord, and shadows playing on the hillside, and sometimes, folk moving back and forth across it, but on such a day as this, when whiteness shrouded every surface, no sight of the goal drew them forward, or carried their eyes out of their heads, making the way seem short.

Only once did Margret dare look back at Steinstraumstead, and when she did, she saw that her own hillside loomed above her. Momentarily it seemed to her that the ice she was walking on was slipping backwards underneath her feet, so that no matter how she stepped forward, the ice carried her back. She shook off this feeling and looked at Bryndis, shrouded in the foxskins so that nothing of her skin could be seen, only the movement of the fox fur as she breathed against it. She would be sleeping with Asta's walking, and warm in the furs. Margret turned her mind upon this, the sight of the little girl sleeping warmly among the furs, and she thought about it with absorption, so that when she had to go off to bring a sheep closer into the group, she longed for the sight of Bryndis asleep as if it were her own warm bedcloset or a seat beside a fire. On her back, Sigurd sat still and calm, as Gunnar never had. Now Asta forged forward in front of the sheep, breaking a path through drifted snow. Margret saw that good luck alone would carry them across the fjord, and she could not help giving herself up to contemplating her luck, which was little enough, all things considered. But then the thought of Skuli Gudmundsson came to her, and with it something that her father had often said, that a man's luck shows itself differently to him than it does to his neighbors. And in the midst of these thoughts she saw that they were more than halfway across the fjord.

Not long after this, one of the ewes stumbled and fell down, and then did not get up. Margret called out to Asta, who turned and saw the sheep, which was lying on its side with its eyes closed. And Asta made her way back to the sheep, and hefted it into the crook of her arm and began to carry it forward. But then another sheep fell over, and there was no carrying two. Margret went to the second sheep and began to coax it to its feet, and briefly it stood up, while she was slapping it and urging it, for sheep are fearful beasts and they distrust the touch of hands. But after stumbling a step or two, the second ewe fell into the snow again, and Margret saw that it would have to be left there to freeze to death.

In this way they trudged forward, and some time later they came to the Brattahlid jetty, and Margret began to look about for a servingman or someone else to help them, for indeed she felt like falling down herself from the weight of Sigurd Kolsson on her back, but no one was there, so they began the steep climb to Osmund's steading, only stopping at the cowbyre to fold the sheep in with the others that were already folded there, and to gather for them a few handfuls of hay from the stack in front of the byre. And it was the case with Margret that the sight of the buildings filled her, not with the desire to go forward into them, but with the false a.s.surance that if she were to founder just where she was standing, she would be discovered and preserved. And from this she knew that she had nearly died on this journey across the fjord. Asta, too, labored painfully up the hillside, and looked about for folk but saw none.

And now it happened that they came to the door of the large steading, and still they had seen no one in the byres, no one in the storehouses, no one in the dairy, no one gathering snow to be melted for drinking water. Asta put her shoulder against the door and it swung open, and she stepped inside with Margret just behind her. The room was warm and humid, but dark, for no lamps had been lit. Margret and Asta stood still and peered about. In the master bedcloset, a figure rustled among the furs, and then a thin, high voice said, "Who is it? Who has come?" And Margret said, in a low voice, to Asta, "This stench I remember from many years ago. This is the stench of the vomiting ill, and, no doubt, partly the stench of death." Then she spoke up and said, "It is Margret Asgeirsdottir and Asta Thorbergsdottir. We have a great fear of what we have discovered here."

"You would have done better," said the thin voice of Gudrunn Jonsdottir, "to have stayed where you were, even starving, than to have come here," and her voice faded away as she fell back into the bedcloset. Now Asta put Bryndis in her foxskins down on the bench, and Sigurd huddled beside her, and Asta covered them with whatever furs she could find, so that they would get their warmth back, and then she and Margret went about the bedclosets and took note of the inhabitants, and these were dead: Osmund, his daughter, two servingwomen, and a servingman; Gudrunn seemed well enough, while her son, Ozur, appeared to be sleeping. A servingwoman and three servingmen were weak, but recovering, for it is the case with the vomiting ill that its course is straight. If a man goes to the bottom of it and does not find death, he will come up again with time.

And now it was with some dread that Margret and Asta began to minister to the living and see to the dead. Asta carried Osmund and the others out and buried them in a s...o...b..nk for the time being. Margret went to the storehouses and brought out dried reindeer meat and sourmilk. The first of these she seethed in broth, and with this she cooked some pieces of mutton, and she also found some salt to add to it, for Brattahlid was a rich farm, and sometimes in the summer when a fire was built for other purposes, such as butchering or was.h.i.+ng clothes, the servingmaids made salt from the water of the fjord. In addition to these things, she found much dried dulse and dried angelica, and these, too, she added to the broth, so that it was thick and smooth and nouris.h.i.+ng, and on this food, first the broth, then the bits of meat, then the sourmilk, the folk of the steading began to revive. Sira Isleif, they said, had gone off with one servingman to Ragnleif's steading, upon hearing that Ragnleif was ill. This was some six or seven days before.

After feeding the folk, Margret and Asta went about and washed them with heated water, for all of them were covered with vomit and other dirt. Then