The Saga of Colm the Slave

by Mike Culpepper

  Frosti nodded. “Even so, there are some animals you wish could escape their fate.” He sighed. “And it’s useless, too. Even if Raven’s-Mane should win, Adals will not have enough to keep the farm going much longer. I suppose he will sell up, or try to, if anyone wants this cursed place. Thorolf is still owed quite a bit for it.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will find a place as farmhand somewhere.”

  “Well, if it comes to that, come see me. I have horses that could do with fewer flies.”

  Frosti smiled. “All right. And I can help you buy and sell them, too. I’ve learned a few things about these animals by now.” He shook his head. “Horses are much easier to understand than humans.”

  So the two men sat in the meadow, watching the horses in the meadow: the mares grazing, their colts jinking about, the stallions keeping clear of one another. Frosti pointed out the personalities of each horse, speaking of the value and shortcomings of every one. Then they spoke of fate and how lives wound their way together, deeply serious stuff that made Colm wish he had some beer.

  20. A Feud Is Averted

  The Althing was troubled that year. Erik the Red was involved in a dispute with Thorgest of Breidabolstead over some stolen bench boards. He had sailed away from Iceland and gone to a new country, people said, but now he had returned. Thorgest had gathered men and arms and it seemed that there might be fighting. Armed men walked through the Thing, openly defying the lawful peace. This had happened before when groups of men had fought one another but the general feeling was that this was most improper.

  “It is absolute foolishness!” said Thorolf. Hallvard sat behind his grandfather, quietly taking in his words. And Thorolf had many words that day: “If men violate the law, if they destroy the peace, then we are all reduced to a great pack of beasts, fighting one another until only one remains. Law is what binds the community and no person alone can match a community’s accomplishments!”

  Colm voiced his thoughts, “In peace we prosper. Dead men cannot farm. Fighting diminishes us all.”

  Thorolf grabbed him by the shoulder. “Exactly! That is the truth! Exactly so!” He released Colm who wondered if there were now a great bruise on his shoulder. Thorolf kept speaking, “Fools talk about honor as though they could eat it or use it for warmth. I have no use for that asshole, Erik, but it’s not worth slaughtering one another to shut him up!”

  Erik had come to Iceland too late to take part in land-taking. He had left Norway because of some killings and had tried to establish himself in the East but soon made himself unwelcome. Now he was in the West and a source of trouble once more. He had obtained the backing of those men who valued their own honor more than those around them did, those who thought perhaps a godi or two might be displaced so that they could improve their own station. But now he had incurred the wrath of Thorgest who was able to call on a great many men himself. The two had fought before and Thorgest brought a suit against Erik and had him outlawed. Erik had returned in the spring and fought again with Thorgest. Once again he was defeated, but now he had gathered new forces, and it seemed that fighting might become general.

  Hallvard spoke up. “They say that Erik wants to establish a new settlement in this place, Greenland, that he has explored.”

  “Good! So long as he is gone from Iceland!” said Thorolf. “I, personally, will pay for some of those damned benchboards if Thorgest will put aside his honor and let this man sail away.”

  Hallvard said, “There are some trying to make this happen.”

  Now he had Thorolf’s attention. “Tell me more.”

  “Some who are beholden to Erik but who fear Thorgest have gone to Snorri Thorgrimsson, the godi at Thorsness, to see if he can settle this matter.”

  Thorolf tugged at his beard. “Well now, that is interesting information. What more do you know?”

  “Not much,” said Hallvard. “I spoke with Snorri the other day and told him you wanted peace but I didn’t say more than that because I didn’t want to indebt us to the man.”

  “Well done,” said Thorolf. “This Snorri is about your age isn’t he?”

  “A little older.”

  “Ah. But you are both young men. Yet he already has a reputation as being level-headed and wise. Now how is that?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Everyone knew of Snorri’s past. His mother was married to the godi Thorgrim when her brother, Gisli, had killed the man as he lay beside her. A few weeks later she bore Snorri. Many people sympathized with Gisli, for he had killed Thorgrim to avenge a friend who Thorgrim had murdered. Still, a man could not kill his godi and get away with it. Gisli had been outlawed. People protected him and he survived in outlawry for almost seventeen years until Thorgrim’s brother, Bork the Stout, sent assassins who killed him. Bork had married Snorri’s mother shortly after his brother was killed. Snorri was sixteen when Bork’s men killed Gisli. People said after, that he should have killed his uncle Bork, but before that these same people claimed that honor lay in Snorri’s killing his uncle Gisli. Instead, Snorri had refused to continue the killings at all and the feud had ended with Gisli’s death. Whatever people said about honor, they admired Snorri’s cool head and steady judgement.

  Thorolf said, “Well, I may have a chat with this young fellow...” He stopped and thought a moment. “No. You speak with him, Hallvard. After all, when I am gone you will both be godis here. Tell him I support peace between these factions, but that if it comes to fighting, it is not Erik that I will support. The man is a trouble-maker! Let him go to Greenland or Greekland or Ireland for all I care! Just away from here. See if he needs anyone to speak to Thorgest. I can do that. Offer no gifts yet – we’ll probably have to pay something before all this is over, but let’s not pledge ourselves poor.”

  Hallvard nodded and, later that day, had a talk with Snorri.

  A few days later, Snorri announced that Thorgest and Erik had come to a settlement. Erik recruited people to settle his new land and sailed back to Greenland. Thorgest was content with whatever payment he had been given. Snorri did not speak of the details. “That young man will go far,” said Thorolf, and all agreed.

  21. Some Icelanders Return

  The days became warmer and the flocks moved up the mountains as the snow melted. Foreign ships landed in the east and in the south. Colm considered travelling to Reykjavik to await the next trader, since he was too late for those first ships, but word came that a vessel was making for the bay and Colm rode over to greet it. He took samples of cloth and some other goods he had to trade and waited on the hillside above the beach where he judged the vessel would land.

  Soon enough, Colm spied the ship in the distance, a deep-bellied knarr with red and white checked sails. A wind-finder spun from the top of the mast. It was carved in Irish style: a dog whose legs and tail were interlaced in an intricate knot. Colm guessed that the ship was named Hound or Sea-Hound or something similar. Men furled the sail and headed the ship into the beach. Rowers dug deep to push the hull high up on the gravel. Two men stood in the bow. These were the ship’s masters, thought Colm, the traders. He studied them and was jolted by recognition. One was Geirrid! Colm galloped down to the beach to meet his son.

  Colm ran to embrace Geirrid who regarded him coolly. “Well, Father, have I been gone long enough?”

  Colm felt rebuffed but he did not show it. “Too long, I think. I have missed you, Son.” He threw his arms around Geirrid.

  An older, heavilly-bearded man stood watching them for a moment. “Don’t you recognize me, Colm?”

  Colm stared into the man’s weathered, lined face and tried to discover what was so familiar about his eyes. Suddenly it came to him. “Eystein!”

  “Yes, the same. I have done with raiding now and am home to tend my farm.”

  Colm’s heart sank. “Eystein, your mother, Ingveld, has been gone more than three years now.”

  “Yes,” said Eystein. “I trust the farm is still there.”

  Colm mad
e a gesture with his head that might have been a nod of agreement, then said, “But you must stay with me for now.”

  “I owe you so much already. That berserk was the second bit of vengeance you did for me, Colm. I owe you twice over.”

  “You owe me nothing. But come with me now to the Trollfarm and we will talk and have some beer.” Time enough later to tell Eystein that his farm was in the hands of strangers and that Colm guaranteed their residence there. He turned to his son. “Your mother will be glad to see you, Geirrid. We will celebrate!” Geirrid smiled a little.

  Geirrid had gifts for his parents. Gwyneth received several small presents of gems and scents that Geirrid said women in Greekland wore. And he gave her a headdress of fine lace with gold thread worked into it and colored stones circling the crown. Gwyneth put it on and it shone in the firelight like the sun itself. She looked beautiful, thought Colm, even with the grey that now streaked her black hair.

  Geirrid gave Colm a set of chess-men, the new kind of chess where both players have the same number of pieces, and an inlaid board to play on. It was a very fine present. The pieces were set with carved amber, dark amber and light. Colm thanked his son warmly, but he felt inside that things were amiss between them. He resolved to put that right but he also had other problems to deal with.

  Colm topped up Eystein’s beer and the man drank it off in one draught but he covered the cup with his hand when Colm tried to pour him another. “No, not yet. I don’t want to be puking that fine supper all over my shirt.” Gwyneth had prepared beef with onions and garlic. She had some bread too, made from grain off the ship, and plenty of butter. Eystein shook his head. “I am grown old.” He looked at Colm. “I have learned caution.”

  “Caution and wisdom are brothers,” said Colm. “Tell me, what happened to Grani Lopear?”

  Eystein shook his head. “We were in Frankia. We joined with some other bands in a big expedition, five ships in all. We left the ships behind a longphort and went inland. The Emperor’s troops were all South, fighting his brother, so we thought we would have our way in the place. But a local duke refused to pay us off and charged into us while we were still marching to camp. That damned Frankish cavalry! They drove us up to a river and hacked or lanced any man ashore. Then archers shot arrows into those who tried to swim. I saw Grani pierced through and through by a lance and then someone sliced off his head. I went into the water. It was red with blood. I lay among the floating corpses and drifted downstream until the riverbank was clear of soldiers. I made my way back to the ships, where we had left them, but locals had killed our guards and set three ships ablaze. The other two had sailed away. I stayed the night in a forest, wet and cold and afraid to sleep.” Eystein shivered at the memory and this time did not refuse some more beer. “I wandered north, staying clear of men and houses, until I came to a stream that I thought fed a river that opened into the sea near Danish territory. I thought I was more likely to receive aid from the Danes than from the Franks, though neither have cause to love me. I followed the stream along a ways to the river and there I saw a traders’ camp. I hung about and heard them speaking of Iceland. I waited for daybreak then walked up to them.” Eystein nodded at Geirrid. “This young man was their leader. He rescued me and fed me and brought me back here.”

  Everyone was silent for a while, thinking of Eystein’s ordeal. Time to get it out, thought Colm. “Your farm is not as you left it,” he said.

  “How is that?” said Eystein.

  “Well, after your father was killed by the berserk, your mother took up with a man named Mar. They never married, but on her death-bed she gave over the farm to him and to a girl she helped raise, our foster-daughter, Thurid. Thurid is there now with her mother, Groa, who has married Mar.”

  Eystein stared into his cup. “I see. What sort of man is this Mar?”

  “He is a good farmer,” said Colm. “The farm is doing well.”

  “He is a good man,” said Gwyneth. “He was good to your mother and they loved one another very much.”

  “I see,” said Eystein again. “Well, I don’t mean to cause trouble, but I think I should be able to live there.”

  “Let me speak to Mar and see what can be arranged. In the meantime, stay here with me.”

  Eystein sat with lowered head. He slowly nodded. “All right. I will leave this to you, Colm.” He lifted his eyes to Colm’s face. “Do right by me, I beg you.” And Colm agreed that he would.

  Mar glowered at Colm. Groa sat with her mouth pressed into a hard line. Mar said, “You promised me certain things.”

  “And I mean to keep my promise,” said Colm. “This farm is yours so long as you live and goes to Thurid when you die. All I ask is that you show a little consideration for this man’s plight.”

  “Consideration! Pah! This man spent years murdering farmers like me! Now he wants consideration?” Mar was shouting again.

  Colm decided to take a harder line. “Many a farmer in Iceland got his start by raiding. I myself have gone raiding. There can be no judgement on this now.” He looked into Mar’s eyes. “Meanwhile, here is a man who comes home to find his mother dead and her farm in the hands of strangers. Yes, I ask for consideration.” Colm drew a breath, took a quieter tone. “This man has no family, no resources, but he is part of this community even so.”

  Mar grumbled, then asked, “What do you want me to do?” Groa shot an angry glance at her husband. She had come into freedom and property by a stroke of fortune, now she saw the possibility of it disappearing.

  “First, I say again that I personally guarantee your ownership of this farm. No one, including Eystein, will take it from you.” Colm waited until Mar nodded. “Now, I ask that you make a place for him here. He will work and earn his keep. But he needs a higher status than simply that of a farmhand. You must accept him as part of this farm.”

  “Why not you?” spat Groa. “Give him part of your farm!”

  “I don’t ask that you give this man anything except some respect. He will work to pay his board and lodging. He has a connection to this farm and ought to be able to live here without being made to feel that he is a charity case.” Which is what he would be, if he lived with Colm. Even so, if Mar and Groa remained adamant, Colm saw that he would have to take Eystein in. “Here he has a certain place and I ask that you recognize it.”

  Mar and Groa continued to argue but Colm sensed that they had begun to weaken. Finally, a few hours later, Mar said, “Well, bring this man by and we will see if we can live with him.” Groa remained silent, arms crossed over her chest. Colm resolved to find some extra gift for Groa besides those he had already brought over from the Trollfarm for her and Mar.

  Eystein was nervous and apprehensive on the way over to his mother’s old farm. Colm wondered if Mar and Groa would see Eystein the way that he did: a man grown old, his bravado gone with the hair on top his head. Show him mercy, he thought, but don’t break his heart by pitying him. Then he recalled Eystein in Frisia, more than twenty years past, and how little mercy he had for those he attacked. Eystein had shown no mercy in his life; he probably expected none now.

  Mar greeted them with open palms. They went inside and Groa served them skyr. She kept silent as she did so. The men sat and talked about the weather and such. After a time, Eystein remarked that the house seemed in very good shape. “You must have done a lot of work on it,” he told Mar.

  “Well, yes, a bit. The roof gave us a bit of a problem there.” Mar pointed to a certain point. “It leaked so much that the dwarf began to rot. The ridge-pole stayed solid, though.” The posts that rested on the cross-beams and supported the ridge-pole were called dwarves, after the dwarves who support the vault of heaven. Mar launched into a lengthy description of how the ridge-pole had to be supported while the roof was rebuilt around that spot. Slaves were hoisted on ropes up to the rafters and rebuilt the area under the sod.

  “That was ingenious,” said Eystein. “Many would have just torn the whole thing down and started over.
”

  “That seemed a waste to me,” said Mar, “A waste of time and materials.”

  “Well, it was well-done,” said Eystein. “I know that place leaked when I was a boy. My father always said he would do something about it, but he never did.” He was silent for a moment, recalling Magnus. “My father sometimes spoke of more than he could accomplish.” Colm recalled the tongueless head staring from the grass near Svart’s sauna.

  “Well,” said Mar, “Sometimes we grow to ignore the flaws in things around us. They become familiar and even a faulty roof seems an old companion.”

  Eystein flashed a smile. “Yes. So it is, sometimes.”

  Colm caught the kindness in Mar’s softened speech and thought that his task of settling Eystein might succeed after all.

  Eystein waved a hand at the benches. “This all seems well cared for.”

  “Some boards have been replaced, but they are mostly the ones you remember, just grown smoother over the years.” At one end of the benches sat a bed-closet. It had been the place where Eystein’s parents had slept; now Mar and Groa used it. Mar said, “We need to put up a bed-closet for you.”

  “I can sleep on the bench,” said Eystein.

  “No,” said Mar, “You are neither a guest nor a farmhand. You shall have your own place.”

  Eystein looked down and nodded. “Thank you.” His voice was thick. Groa brought him more skyr and smiled as she dished it out. Colm felt great relief.

  Mar said, “Where are your weapons?”

  “I have none left. I traded my sword for food on the way back to Iceland. If the place needs defending, perhaps you will loan me an axe.”

  “Of course. I will gladly give you one.”

  Colm thought this the proper time to say to Eystein, “You are under my protection now. Any man who harms you becomes my enemy.” He thought that message would be understood by all who heard it. Mar nodded. Then Colm said, “There is a place in my roof that also leaks and has for years. Perhaps someone from your farm can take a look and tell me what needs to be done.”