“Ah.” Thorolf took the Arab dirham and bent it between his thumb and forefinger. He examined the crease. “Looks good,” he said. “Suppose this penny and two chickens for the year?”
Colm nodded, relieved at not having to pay more and embarrassed at paying so little. A good farm should pay six pence or more in rent and more to buy it over time.
Bjorn cleared his throat. “That sounds right.” He was also owed a tenth. He would take the same amount named by Thorolf so as not to put his chieftain in the wrong. He reached for the Frankish coin.
“No,” said Colm, “Take the good penny. I’ll keep this one as a souvenir.” And to remind me of truth and counterfeit, he thought. So the three men slapped hands and, business done, set to drink and talk.
Colm was only a freedman but he had a certain status in the community. Magnus honoured him for avenging his son and others were interested in hearing about his raiding adventure. He spoke with Ketil for a time and, though neither man bragged about the ram he had gotten from the other, both had pregnant ewes and were satisfied with the trade. Gwyneth, too, found women she could talk to, though she had harder going than Colm, for women tend to be very serious about status. But both felt good about their reception at the feast. Colm made hearty toasts to the gods, especially Frey, who brought abundance, and Gwyneth also made silent pledges to Frey and Freya as well, praying that she would soon be with child. Both drank a little too much but neither was sick or foolish or embarrassed. It was a successful feast for them.
Winter drew on. The wolf ate the sun and daylight lasted only a few hours. Cold darkness waited outside, a great emptiness, and the three at the Trollfarm spent hours huddled near the smoky firepit, doing small chores and talking of this or that. There was some gossip, of course, and they knew some tales remembered from the places they had been born and others that they learned from the Norse. So they talked and told stories until they had said everything they had to say several times over.
One morning, Gwyneth rose, went into the yard, and killed a cockerel. She pitched the bird into a stewpot and set it cooking. “The sun is coming back,” she announced. “The days are getting longer.” And Colm and Edgar breathed in the cooking aroma and felt warm and glad.
They ate the chicken, sucking the bones clean before they threw them to the dog. They laughed and told all their tales again and defied Winter and were happy to be alive in the cold season of death.
The days did get longer and the ewes’ wool began to tug away as the lambing time approached. Three lambs birthed successfully! Again, Colm’s first ewe had twins. He loved that sheep almost as much as he loved Gwyneth! Gwyneth had named the ewe, something in her own tongue. She never called its name in front of other people but Colm heard her muttering to it once as she pulled wool from its fleece. Colm never asked her about it since he thought this might be woman’s magic and something he should not know. He left this to Gwyneth and never called the sheep by name himself.
So the spring came on, the first green showing, the air warming as the sun grew stronger, and Colm was pleased and thought himself a lucky man. Then he shuddered and caught himself for the elves delight in turning a man’s brag into a curse. At least he hadn’t said it aloud, he thought, and glanced over his shoulder to make certain no grinning spirit was watching him.
Colm was in a somber mood as he went into his house. He found fault with everything and soon angered Gwyneth. They quarrelled and it was a while before they managed to make it up, Edgar finding something to do in the sheepfold where he spent the night. There was something coming, Colm knew, something ominous, and he cursed himself for lacking the foresight and intelligence to see what it could be.
Edgar returned to Bjorn’s stead and took up the chore of watching the flock at the summer shieling, Colm’s few sheep as well. Colm set himself to repairing the Trollfarm. He was hauling stones to mend a fence, dragging the stoneboat by hand, when he saw the riders in the distance. He studied them, wondering if he should go back to the house and take his sword from the chest where it lay wrapped in rags. But he recognized one of the riders as Bjorn, and, after they came a little closer, saw that the others were Thorolf and Magnus. Colm shouted to Gwyneth to make ready for visitors, then walked toward the riders, his hands spread in greeting. “Come to the house. We will have some refreshment.”
But Magnus leapt from his horse and began chattering. The words came so fast that Colm couldn’t take them in. He saw Thorolf and Bjorn exchange a glance. “Well enough,” said Colm, “But let’s go indoors and speak of this.” In fact, he didn’t yet know what the man was going on about.
His words brought Magnus up short. “You’re a cool one,” he said, shaking his head, “Pure courage through and through. I swear, if I had a young son I would foster him with you!”
“I’m sure I would be honored,” murmured Colm. In reality, he could think of little he wanted less than to be attached to this man’s family.
Thorolf cleared his throat. “Yes, let’s sort out the horses and go inside.” It was while he was forking hay for the horses that Colm began to wonder: What was Magnus saying that should have caused him to be afraid? And right then he felt a chill clutch in his guts.
Gwyneth served them skyr and retired to her workplace, close enough so that she could hear whatever was said. Magnus started in again but Thorolf raised a hand and quieted him. “You recall,” he said to Colm, “At the Thing where Gunnlaug was outlawed that he had a cousin who spoke for him.”
“Yes. Grim was his name. But he was alone.”
“Well, he is alone no longer. His cousins have been in Norway and they are returning to Iceland. They are twins, Glum and Glam, and swore brotherhood with Grim in childhood.”
“And the berserk!” Magnus burst in.
“Yes,” said Thorolf, “They bring a companion with them who, it is said, is a berserk.” All three men paused to consider what this meant. Berserks were unstoppable killers, warriors of inhuman strength who fearlessly charged everything in their path.
“There are many things said about berserks,” said Colm.
Thorolf nodded. “And some of them may be true. Anyway, it is thought these four – Grim, his cousins, and the berserk – may try to avenge Gunnlaug.” Colm nodded. He understood this meant he would be their target.
Bjorn said, “I will offer them something. There is no penalty for killing an outlaw, of course, but…”
Thorolf said, “Of course, we will offer gifts for their friendship, but…”
“Why offer anything?” Magnus shouted, “We can take them! And others will help! You’ve proven yourself,” he gestured at Colm, “Berserk or not, you’re a match for any man!”
Colm stared at the red-faced man. Magnus’ eyes were angry, almost popping from his skull, spittle flew from his lips, and he flailed about in the air with his hands. All bluster, thought Colm, and no brains.
“As I said,” Thorolf continued, “We will try to mend this situation but you should know that it is said that these men have already forsworn any wergild. They demand blood.”
“‘It is said…’?” Colm inquired.
“All is rumor now. But the cousins and the berserk are expected to arrive in time for Althing. We will seek them there.”
Colm nodded. “I am in your debt.”
“No,” said Thorolf, “You killed the man who murdered my daughter’s intended husband. It is not you who owes me. Nor do you owe anyone else.” He looked at Magnus. “We should all consider the service you did us and then think what the best outcome of this matter should be.”
Magnus shrugged and muttered, “We owe them, I think. We owe them a blade between their ribs!”
“That may be,” said Thorolf, “And it may come to that, but let’s see if there may not be another solution.”
“Pah! This is women’s counsel! We can take them! What say you, Colm?” Magnus gripped Colm by the shoulder.
“I say,” Colm spoke deliberately, “That I will listen carefully to the
wisdom of those older than I.”
Magnus released him. “I thought you had more… Never mind! They will be here soon enough and then you’ll be fighting!”
“Then I will be glad to have strong men aiding me.”
“Oh, I’ll be there! But these two…” Magnus glared at Thorolf and Bjorn, then leapt up and stalked out the door. The other men sat silently until they heard the sound of Magnus’ horse galloping away.
Thorolf asked Colm, “Has Magnus ever rewarded you for avenging Gunnlaug?”
Colm shook his head. “No, but his other son gave me a handsome sword.”
“May you never need to use it,” said Thorolf. “Well, different men have different ideas of honor, I suppose.”
Colm shrugged. “I won’t judge the honor of someone whose sword I may need to rely on.”
Thorolf laughed. “You are wise indeed. All right, let us wise men see what plan we can come up with.”
“More skyr?” asked Colm as he beckoned to Gwyneth.
In the end there wasn’t much to say. Thorolf would speak to those men that had helped outlaw Gunnlaug. They would all gather at Althing and make an intimidating show for Grim’s party. Then Thorolf would try to placate them with gifts. Also, he would speak with Grim’s godi and try to insure that, if things did come to blows, the conflict would be confined to the four men they knew about and not become general.
Bjorn and Thorolf left and Colm faced Gwyneth. He forced a smile. “Don’t worry. This will all come right. You’ll see.”
Gwyneth shook her head. “If only you had never killed that man.”
“But look what it got me – a farm, my freedom, and, let’s not forget, you!”
“No. I had my freedom from Aud. Perhaps I could have gotten yours somehow. Then we could still be together without this.”
“Well, this is my fate. I did the one thing, other things followed. I think I am better off.”
“Which is better: to have nothing and know only hope? Or to have everything and see it taken away?”
“Ask a scholar. That’s too much for me. I’m only a poor farmer.” He took Gwyneth in his arms and tried to comfort her and make her laugh but she held hard to her despair. She had these moods occasionally when, to her, everything appeared black. Sometimes Colm could jolly her out of them, other times, it seemed to him, that she resisted and stubbornly clung to hopelessness. This irritated him but he never shouted at her. How could he demand that she be happy?
Colm waited until Gwyneth was occupied with her chickens before he opened the chest that sat just past the entry and took out his sword. He unwrapped the rags that covered the weapon and put them back into the chest. A spear stood ready near the doorway for use against unwelcome visitors. Colm put the sword on top the turf wall near the spear, where he could get to it quickly if need be and where he could find it easily when he went out to work, for Colm meant to have a weapon always near from now on. He pushed the sword back into the shadow under the roof, hoping Gwyneth wouldn’t see it.
The spring was warm and sunny with just enough rain. The sheep fattened and the hay crop was growing well. The Trollfarm looked like a real farm now, not abandoned and unkempt, but messy with life. This should have been a good time for Colm and Gwyneth but both were nervous and withdrawn, brooding over things unspoken.
Colm was working in the home field when he heard Gagarr barking. There were four riders in the distance. He put down his rock-lever and walked slowly and deliberately to the place he had left his sword. The riders were close enough now so that he could see one of them was Grim, Gunnlaug’s cousin. He didn’t recognize the other three. Colm stepped into the angle where a hayguard jutted from the stone fence. He didn’t want them to be able to come at him from all sides at once. He used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead so that it wouldn’t run into his eyes and he waited. He stood erect and motionless, though his heart was pounding.
Gagarr kept barking as the four men reined in about ten yards in front of him. No one paid attention to the dog. “That’s the one.” Grim pointed at Colm.
“Well, look! It has a sword!”
“So it does! Perhaps it means to use it. Do you think?”
The two men were as much alike as Colm’s two hands. They were pink-faced and plump, with sweat-matted hair the color of hay turned sour. Glum and Glam, thought Colm. He looked past them to the fourth man who sat silently on his horse.
“Oh, well, it doesn’t care for us.”
“No, it only wants Snaekulf. Is that so, you slave scum? Do you want Snaekulf to play with?”
Colm said nothing, but studied Snaekulf. Tall, the berserk’s feet hung far past his horse’s belly. He was lean and hard and strong looking. Colm thought he looked quick as well. He stared back at Colm with unblinking blue eyes that had pupils small as if they were picked out by needles. Snaekulf’s lips were pulled back from his teeth as though he wanted terribly to smile but was unable to raise the corners of his mouth. He was fearful to look at and Colm almost trembled but then he thought of other fearsome men he had seen. He remembered Grani Lopear and thought, all things being equal, he would sooner face this man than Grani. An involuntary smile twitched at his lips. The twins caught it and turned red, both at once, like a conjure trick. Colm’s smile widened.
“Are you laughing at us?” The twins’ eyes widened in anger, all four of them.
“Slave dog…” sputtered one twin, “I’ll swat you like a fly! Crush you like… like…”
“A bug!” shouted the other.
Grim pulled his horse in front of theirs. “Not yet. I have promised to speak to Thorolf the godi first. After, we’ll see.” He glared at Colm. “Where did you get the sword, slave?”
Colm made his voice steady. “I am a free man. This sword was a gift from someone whose brother had been murdered.”
Grim nodded, still glaring. “Well, should there be a settlement for my cousin’s killing, that sword may be part of it. Or maybe I’ll let you keep it so that I may have the pleasure of removing it from your corpse. Because, settlement or no, I mean for you to die.”
“So you mean to take money for your cousin’s death and then to dishonor the settlement?”
Grim spat on the ground. “If I agree not to kill you, then I will keep to the agreement. And Glum and Glam will as well.” He closed his mouth, still staring straight at Colm.
Colm took his meaning. Snaekulf was the man delegated to murder him. Colm raised his eyes to Snaekulf’s and slowly spread his lips in a wide grin, showing all his teeth. He said nothing. A little shock rippled over the twins’ faces and they both rocked back in their saddles. Gutless, thought Colm, and felt some satisfaction. But Snaekulf never changed his expression and Grim snarled, “Laugh now, laugh later, die laughing! Then we will laugh as well!” Then he turned his horse and rode off, the others following. The twins glanced back at Colm, both at once, but Snaekulf never turned his head.
“Hush, Gagarr. They’re gone now.” The dog had kept barking throughout the confrontation.
Colm picked up his tools and walked back to the house. He felt shaky on his legs and had a great urge to sit down in the cool of his own place. Gwyneth awaited him in the doorway. She gripped the spear. Colm decided not to try to joke with her. She said, “Are those the ones?” Colm nodded. “The tall one in back, is he the dangerous one?”
“Any man can be dangerous...” began Colm, but he saw Gwyneth’s eyes blaze up and reversed himself. “Yes. But the others bear watching as well.”
Gwyneth furrowed her brow. “I’ll find out where they are staying. We’ll go at night and kill them in their sleep!”
Colm shook his head. “No. We’ll follow Thorolf’s plan. Perhaps we can avoid killing anyone.”
“I doubt it,” said Gwyneth. Colm said nothing. Gwyneth asked, “Did you really laugh at them?”
“A little,” said Colm. “Those twins are really funny. One does something and the other is already doing exactly the same thing like they were att
ached somehow. You know, I bet they even fart together!”
Gwyneth sighed and shook her head. “You and your smart Irish mouth.”
Colm thought, You and your dark Welsh heart. But he didn’t say it.
“Well, I’m glad you’re my husband anyway.” She gave him a sudden fierce look. “But don’t forget I’m your wife. And I can help kill these bastards!”
Speechless, Colm could only nod.
A great crowd bustled about Althing: chieftains come to make law or settle disputes, farmers arranging business deals, boys and girls flirting under the eyes of parents considering the future marriage of their offspring, and conjurors, jugglers, gamblers, and fortune-tellers persuading people to part with a coin or two. Not only was Althing government, it was a great social event where people affirmed the bonds of loyalty and friendship that shaped the community.
Most important families had specific areas that they used year after year. They had raised walls of stone and turf on these places and, after repairing winter damage, they raised cloth and skin roofs to make a pavilion or booth where they received visitors.
Thorolf addressed the group of men in his booth. “I have spoken with Ozurr, Grim’s godi. He says that Grim has no other kin in Iceland than the twins he fetched from Norway.”
Bjorn nodded. “Good.”
Thorolf went on. “He says that, if Grim should start a feud in our quarter, he would feel no obligation to assist the man. And Ozurr says that berserks are dangerous to have around and he would feel friendly toward any man that could remove this one.”
The men all glanced at Colm. There were seven of them: Thorolf, Bjorn, Magnus, Egil Bloodhead, his cousin Thorgils, Ketil, and a farmer named Svart, who now worked the place once owned by Hastein. Colm realized that he was the most experienced fighter in the room. Egil Bloodhead and his cousin were thought strong and fearsome but neither had been tested. Colm had wielded a sword in battle and killed a man with it and he had killed an outlaw, stood next to the man and shoved a knife in him. None of these others had ever done anything like that. Colm had carried a small, cold lump of fear in his guts for weeks and now he felt it growing. He was to be the fighter in this group.
The Saga of Colm the Slave Page 7