by Martin Regal
Early one morning just before Yule the cowherd at Karsstadir went to the cowshed as usual, where he saw a cow standing in front of the door, and at once he recognized her as the missing cow with the broken leg. He led the cow into a stall and tied her up, and then he told Thorodd. Thorodd went out to the cowshed and looked over the cow. They realized that she was in calf, and therefore could not be killed. Thorodd had already slaughtered enough cattle for his household’s needs. In the spring as summer was approaching the cow bore a calf, and it was a heifer. A little later she bore another calf, and this one was a young bull. The delivery was very difficult because the calf was so big, and a little while later the cow died. The big calf was taken into the main room. He was dapple-grey and a very fine-looking beast. Both calves were then kept in the main room, including the first-born one.
There was an old woman sitting in the main room. She was Thorodd’s foster-mother, and she was now blind. In years gone by she was thought to have been foresighted, but when she grew old, whatever she said was treated as the fancies of old age. None the less a lot of what she said came true. When the big calf had been tethered to the floor, he bellowed loudly.
On hearing that, the old woman feared the worst and said, ‘That’s the sound of a troll, not the sound of a natural beast, and you’d do well to kill this ill-boding creature.’
Thorodd replied that the calf could not be killed, since he was such a fine one, which he said would turn into an excellent beast when full-grown. Then the calf bellowed a second time.
The old woman spoke, shuddering all over, ‘Foster-son, have the calf killed because we will have nothing but ill fortune from him if he is reared.’
‘The calf will be killed, if you so wish, foster-mother,’ Thorodd replied.
Then both the calves were taken outside. Thorodd had the heifer-calf killed and the other one taken out into the barn. He warned everyone not to tell the old woman that the calf was still alive. The calf grew bigger day by day so that by the spring, when the calves were let out, he was no smaller than the calves born at the beginning of winter. He ran around a lot in the home meadow as soon as he got out and bellowed loudly like a roaring bull, so that it could be clearly heard inside the house.
Then the old woman said, ‘So the troll was not killed. We will suffer more from him than we might find words to describe.’
The calf grew quickly and grazed out on the home meadow during the summer. By autumn he was so large that few of the yearlings were any bigger. He had fine horns and was the best looking of all the cattle. The bull was named Glaesir. By the time he was two years old, he was as large as a five-year-old ox. Glaesir always stayed with the cows near the farm, and whenever Thorodd went to the milking-pen, Glaesir went up to him and sniffed around him, licking his clothing while Thorodd patted him. He was as gentle as a lamb with both people and cattle, but whenever he bellowed he caused great alarm. When the old woman heard him, she was always greatly startled. When Glaesir was four years old, he would not walk ahead of women, children or young men, and if men went up to him, he would thrash his head around and behave suspiciously, but in the end he would walk away.
One day when Glaesir came back to the milking-pen, he roared very loudly so that he was heard as clearly inside the house as if he were inside. Thorodd was in the main room and so was the old woman.
She sighed deeply and said, ‘You don’t put much store by my advice to have that bull killed, foster-son.’
‘You may rest easy, foster-mother,’ Thorodd replied. ‘Glaesir will only live until autumn, and then once he’s got his summer fat on him, he’ll be killed.’
‘That will be too late,’ she said.
‘It’s hard to see how,’ Thorodd replied.
While they were talking, the bull responded, sounding even worse than before.
Then the old woman spoke this verse:
36.
The king of the herd strains
his skull with blood-knowing bellow;
he will take the life of a man;
– the shaker of grey tresses totters – shaker of grey tresses: old
he will show you the way woman
to the sword-slashed earth-wound; sword-slashed earth-wound:
it will be: the beast will steal grave
your life – I see that clearly.
Thorodd replied, ‘Now you’re talking like an old fool, foster-mother. You can see no such thing.’
She spoke again:
37.
Often you say she is mad when
the treasure-seat stirs her tongue, treasure-seat: woman
but I see wound-tears wound-tears: blood
on your bloodied trunk.
This bull will be your killer
because it has begun to turn
in fury against men. Gerd Gerd (goddess) of the ringing gold: woman
of the ringing gold sees that.
‘That’s not going to happen, foster-mother,’ said Thorodd.
‘What’s worse is that it certainly will,’ she replied.
In the summer when Thorodd had the hay from the home meadow raked into large haystacks, a heavy shower began to fall. The next morning when people came outside, they saw that Glaesir had come into the hayfield, and the wooden stocks that were put on his horns when he became vicious were off. He was not behaving in his usual manner, for he never normally destroyed haystacks when he was in the hayfield. But now he charged at the stacks and stuck his horns into them, tossing them up and flinging them all over the meadow. As soon as he had broken up one, he would go on to the next haystack, and so he went, bellowing around the meadow, sounding terrifying. People were so afraid of him that no one dared to approach him and drive him away from the hay.
When Thorodd was told how Glaesir was behaving, he rushed outside at once. There was a pile of wood stacked beside the outer door, and Thorodd took a large birch log and swung it over his shoulder, holding it by its branches. Then he ran down into the meadow to face the bull. When Glaesir saw him coming, he held his position and turned towards him. Thorodd shouted at him, but the bull was no more submissive for that. Then Thorodd hoisted the log and brought it down between the bull’s horns with such force that the log split apart at the branches. Glaesir bridled at the blow and charged Thorodd, who grabbed him by the horns and swung him to the side. This went on for a while, with Glaesir charging and Thorodd jumping out of the way and forcing him to one side or the other, until Thorodd began to tire. Then he leapt up on to the bull’s neck and clasped his arms below his throat, lying there on the bull’s head between his horns, in the hope of tiring him out. But the bull raced back and forward across the field with him on top.
Thorodd’s servants saw that the situation was looking very dangerous, but they did not dare to intervene without weapons. They went inside to get their weapons, and when they came back out, they ran down to the field with spears and other weapons. When the bull saw that, he drove his head down between his legs and twisted his head about so that he got one of his horns under Thorodd. Then he suddenly tossed his head, sending Thorodd’s torso into the air so that he seemed to be performing a headstand on the bull’s neck. As Thorodd fell back, Glaesir swung his head under him so that one of his horns plunged into Thorodd’s belly, making him sink down at once. Thorodd’s hands went loose, and the bull charged across the field and down to the river with a terrifying roar.
Thorodd’s servants raced after Glaesir, chasing him all the way across Geirvor and on until they came to a bog beneath the farm at Hellar. There the bull charged out into the bog and sank down, never to come up again. The place has been called Glaesiskelda ever since. When the servants came back up to the home meadow, Thorodd was gone. He had gone back into the farmhouse, and when they came inside, they found him lying dead in his bed. They had his body taken to the church. Thorodd’s son Kar took over the farm at Alftafjord after his father, and lived there for a long time. The farm at Karsstadir is named after him.
64 There was a man
named Gudleif who was the son of Gudlaug the Wealthy of Straumfjord, and the brother of Thorfinn from whom the Sturlung clan is descended.31 Gudleif was an experienced merchant, and owned a large knorr. Thorolf, the son of Loft from Eyri, owned another knorr, and the two of them had fought against Gyrd, the son of Earl Sigvaldi, in the battle at which Gyrd had lost an eye. In the last days of St Olaf,32 Gudleif went west on a trading journey to Dublin, intending to go on from there to Iceland. As he was sailing to the west of Ireland, he came up against an easterly gale and then a north-easterly one, which drove him far out across the sea to the west, and then south-west, so that they could not get their bearings from land. It was late in the summer and they swore many oaths in the hope they might be driven ashore.
Eventually they caught sight of land. It was a large land-mass, and none of them knew what land it was. Gudleif and his crew decided to go ashore since none of them felt like spending any longer on the high seas. They found a good place to anchor, and when they had been ashore for a little while, some men came down to meet them. They did not recognize any of them, but thought they were speaking Irish. Suddenly a large number of supporters joined them, making them several hundred strong. The inhabitants then attacked the travellers, taking them prisoner and binding them, after which they herded them farther up the shore. Then they were taken to an assembly and judgement was passed on them. They realized that some people wanted them put to death, and some wanted them divided up among various households as slaves.
While this was being debated, they saw a band of men carrying a banner riding towards them. They thought a chieftain of some kind might be in the band. When the band drew nearer, they saw that beneath the banner rode a tall, brave-looking man, very advanced in years, with a head of white hair. Everyone present bowed before this man and greeted him as their lord. The travellers quickly realized that all matters of importance and decisions were left up to him. After a while this man sent for Gudleif and his men, and when they came before him, he spoke to them in Icelandic, and asked them what lands they came from. They told him that they were mainly Icelanders, and the man asked which of them were the Icelanders. Gudleif stepped forward and greeted the man, who responded warmly and asked him what part of Iceland he came from. Gudleif told him he was from Borgarfjord. Then the man asked him whereabouts in Borgarfjord he lived, and Gudleif told him. After that the man asked for details about all the leading men of Borgarfjord and Breidafjord. When they had told him, he asked about Snorri the Godi and his sister, Thurid of Froda, making precise enquiries about every detail concerning Froda, in particular about the boy Kjartan, who was now the farmer there.
The inhabitants called out that something had to be done about the ship’s crew. The tall man walked away from them and named twelve of his own men to come with him. They sat together for a long time talking, and then they rejoined the meeting.
The tall man said to Gudleif and his crew, ‘The people of this land have discussed your case, and have left the judgement up to me. I wish to give you leave to travel wherever you want to go. Even though you might think it very late in the summer, I would advise you to get away from here, because the people here are untrustworthy, and very difficult to deal with. And they think that their laws have been broken.’
‘What will we say about who has given us our freedom, if we get back to our homeland?’ Gudleif asked.
‘I can’t tell you that,’ the man replied, ‘because I love my kinsmen and foster-brothers too much to want them to come here and be treated as you might have been, if you had not had the benefit of my intervention. I am now so old that I expect old age will overcome me at any moment. Even if I live a little while longer, there are more powerful men than me here in this land who won’t grant much freedom to foreigners. It just so happens they weren’t nearby when you arrived.’
Then the man had their ship made ready and stayed with them until a fresh wind arose, enabling them to sail out to sea. Before they parted the man took a gold ring from his finger and gave it to Gudleif, along with a fine sword.
Then he said to Gudleif, ‘If you manage to get back to your foster-land, give this sword to Kjartan, the farmer at Froda, and the ring to his mother Thurid.’
‘What will I tell them about the man who sent them these valuable things?’ asked Gudleif.
‘Say that the sender was a better friend to the mistress of the house at Froda than to her brother, the godi at Helgafell,’ he replied. ‘If anyone thinks they know from this who has sent these valuable things, tell them I forbid anyone coming to look for me, because this is a most dangerous place to get to, unless you have the kind of luck you had in landing here. This is a big country, without good harbours, and foreigners will be greeted with hostility everywhere, unless things turn out as they have for you.’
After that they parted. Gudleif and his men set out to sea and arrived in Ireland late in autumn, spending the winter in Dublin. The next summer they sailed to Iceland and Gudleif handed over the valuables. People came to the conclusion that the man must have been Bjorn the Champion of the Breidavik People, but there is no other evidence for this except what has just been narrated.
65 Snorri the Godi lived at Tunga for twenty years and held a rather precarious position while powerful men such as Thorstein Kuggason, Thorgils Holluson and the other important men who were his enemies were still alive. He plays a part in many other sagas other than this one, including The Saga of the People of Laxardal, as many people know. He was a great friend of Gudrun Osvifsdottir and her sons. He also comes into The Saga of the Slayings on the Heath, where, apart from Gudmund the Powerful, he was the strongest supporter of Bardi after the slayings on the heath.
When Snorri started growing old, his honour and popularity began to grow, partly because his enemies grew fewer. His popularity was boosted by the marriage alliances he arranged between his family and the men of distinction in Breidafjord and farther afield. He married his daughter Sigrid to Brand Vermundarson the Generous, and she later married Kolli, the son of Thormod Thorlaksson of Eyri, and they lived at Bjarnarhofn. Snorri married his daughter, Unn, to Killer-Bardi, and she later married Sigurd, the son of Thorir Dog from Bjarkoy island in Halogaland. Their daughter, Rannveig, married Jon, the son of Arni Arnason and the great-grandson of Arnmod, and their son was Vidkunn of Bjarkoy, who was one of the noblest of the landholders in Norway. Snorri the Godi married his daughter, Thordis, to Bolli Bollason, and the Gilsbakki family are descended from them. And Snorri married his daughter, Hallbera, to Thord, the son of Sturla Thjodreksson. Their daughter was named Thurid and she married Haflidi Masson, and from them comes a great family line. Snorri’s daughter, Thora, was married by him to Cart-Bersi, the son of Halldor Olafsson from Hjardarholt. She later married Thorgrim Svidi, and from them comes a great and noble family line.
Snorri’s other daughters were all married after his death. His daughter Thurid the Wise was married to Gunnlaug, the son of Steinthor of Eyri. Gudrun Snorradottir was married to Kolfinn from Solheimar, Halldora Snorradottir to Thorgeir from Asgardsholar, and Alof Snorradottir to Jorund Thorfinnsson, the brother of Gunnlaug from Straumfjord.
Halldor was the most eminent of Snorri the Godi’s sons. He lived at Hjardarholt in Laxardal, and the Sturlung and Vatnsfjord families are descended from him. Thorodd was the second most eminent of Snorri the Godi’s sons, and he lived at Spakonufell in Skagastrond. Snorri’s son, Mani, lived at Saudafell, and his son Ljot, who was nicknamed Mani-Ljot, was known as the greatest of Snorri the Godi’s grandsons. Thorstein, another of Snorri the Godi’s sons, lived at Laugarbrekka and the Asbjorn clan of Skagafjord are descended from him, as are many other people. Snorri the Godi’s son Thord Cat lived at Dufgusdal, while Snorri the Godi’s son Eyjolf lived at Lambastadir in Myrar. Snorri the Godi’s son Thorleif lived at Medalfellsstrond, and the Ballara clan are descended from him. Snorri the Godi’s son Snorri lived at Saelingsdalstunga after his father died. Snorri the Godi had another son, named Klepp, but no one knows where he lived
, nor whether he had any descendants known from the sagas.
Snorri the Godi died at Saelingsdalstunga a year after the killing of St Olaf. He was buried there at the church he himself had established. When the graveyard there was dug up, his bones were taken up and moved to where the church now is on their estate. When this happened Gudny Bodvarsdottir was present, and she is the mother of Sturla’s sons Snorri, Thord and Sighvat, and she reported that they were the bones of a medium-sized man, and not a tall one. She also said that the bones of Bork the Stout, Snorri the Godi’s uncle, were moved at the same time, and they were extremely large. The bones of the old woman, Thordis, the daughter of Thorbjorn Sur and the mother of Snorri the Godi, were also moved, and Gudny said they were small female bones, and as black as if they had been singed. All of these bones were reburied in the graveyard where the church now stands.
This is the end of the saga of the people of Thorsnes, Eyri and Alftafjord.
Translated by JUDY QUINN
Translator’s note: The translation of this saga began as a collaboration between myself and Kristín Hafsteinsdóttir, who unfortunately was unable to continue because of other commitments. Nevertheless, her insights and wit gave the translation its impetus, as well as making the task of collaborating by e-mail a delight.
Notes
GISLI SURSSON’S SAGA
1. King Hakon, foster-son of King Athelstan of England: Ruler of Norway c.934–60. He was the son of King Harald Fair-hair, and was born around 920 and died in 960 or 961. King Athelstan reigned 924–39.
2. Gisli: Gisli, son of Thorkel, is the uncle of the eponymous hero of the saga. Gisli Sursson himself is not introduced until Ch. 2.
3. Grasida (Grey-blade): A feminine word in Icelandic (all other sword names are masculine) which may refer simply to the metal colour of the weapon. However, grey has symbolic associations with trickery and deception. The noun used for blade (síða) has a verbal homograph meaning ‘to perform magic’. The sword is later forged into a spear (Ch. 11) which plays a vital role in the saga.