The Thrall of Leif the Lucky
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Ottilie A. Liljencrantz >> The Thrall of Leif the Lucky
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"There, you have admitted that I am right!" Helga cried triumphantly.
"He was afraid of the dwarfs; and a man who is afraid of anything is a
coward."
But Sigurd could fence with his tongue as well as with his sword. "What
then is a shield-maiden who is afraid of her kinswoman?" he parried. And
they fell to wrangling laughingly between themselves.
Unheeding them, Alwin gazed away at the mysterious blue west. His eyes
were big with great thoughts. If he had a ship and a crew,--if he could
sail away exploring! Suppose kingdoms could be founded there!
Suppose--his imaginings became as lofty as the drifting clouds, and as
vague; so vague that he finally lost interest in them, and turned his
attention to the approaching shore. They had come near enough now to see
that the scattered islands had connected themselves into a peaked coast,
a broken line of dazzling whiteness, except where dark chasms made blots
upon its sides.
But sighting Greenland and landing upon it were two very different
matters, he found. A little further, and they encountered the border of
drift-ice that, travelling down from the northeast in company with
numerous icebergs, closes the fiord-mouths in summer like a magic bar.
"I shall think it great luck if this breaks up so that we can get
through it in a month," Valbrand observed phlegmatically.
"A month?" Alwin gasped, overhearing him.
The old sailor looked at him in contempt. "Does a month seem long to
you? When Eric came here from Iceland, he was obliged to lie four months
in the ice."
Four months on shipboard, with nothing more cheerful to look at than
barren cliffs and a gray sea paved with grinding ice-cakes! The
consternation of Alwin's face was so great that Sigurd took pity on him
even while he laughed.
"It will not be so bad as that. And we will steer to a point north of
the fiord and lie there in the shelter of an island."
"Shelter!" muttered the English youth. "Twelve eiderdown beds would be
insufficient to shelter one from this wind."
Nor was the island of any more inviting appearance when finally they
reached it. What of it was not barren boulders was covered with black
lichens, the only hint of green being an occasional patch of moss
nestling in some rocky fissure. To heighten the effect, icy gales blew
continually, accompanied by heavy mists and chilling fogs.
Amid these inhospitable surroundings they were penned for two
weeks,--Norse weeks of but five days each, but seemingly endless to the
captives from the south. Editha retired permanently into the big
bear-skin sleeping-bag that enveloped the whole of her little person and
was the only cure for the chattering of her teeth. Alwin wrapped himself
in every garment he owned and as many of Sigurd's as could be spared,
and strove to endure the situation with the stoicism of his companions;
but now and then his disgust got the better of his philosophy.
"How intelligent beings can find it in their hearts to return to this
country after the good God has once allowed them to leave it, passes my
understanding!" he stormed, on the tenth day of this sorry picnicking.
"At first it was in my mind to fear lest such a small ship should sink
in such a great sea; now I only dread that it will not, and that we will
be brought alive to land and forced to live there."
Rolf regarded him with his amiable smile. "If your eyes were as blue as
your lips, and your cheeks were as red as your nose, you would be
considered a handsome man," he said encouragingly.
And again it was Sigurd who took pity on Alwin. "Bear it well; it will
not last much longer," he said. "Already a passage is opening. And
inside the fiord, much is different from what is expected."
Alwin smiled with polite incredulity.
The next day's sun showed a dark channel open to them, so that before
noon they had entered upon the broad water-lane known as Eric's Fiord.
The silence between the towering walls was so absolute, so death-like,
as to be almost uncanny. Mile after mile they sailed, between bleak
cliffs ice-crowned and garbed in black lichens; mile after mile further
yet, without passing anything more cheerful than a cluster of rocky
islands or a slope covered with brownish moss. The most luxuriant of the
islands boasted only a patch of crowberry bushes or a few creeping
junipers too much abashed to lift their heads a finger's length above
the earth.
Alwin looked about him with a sigh, and then at Sigurd with a grimace.
"Do you still say that this is pleasanter than drowning?" he inquired.
Sigurd met the fling with obstinate composure. "Are you blind to the
greenness of yonder plain? And do you not feel the sun upon you?"
All at once it occurred to Alwin that the icy wind of the headlands had
ceased to blow; the fog had vanished, and there was a genial warmth in
the air about him. And yonder,--certainly yonder meadow was as green as
the camp in Norway. He threw off one of his cloaks and settled himself
to watch.
Gradually the green patches became more numerous, until the level was
covered with nothing else. In one place, he almost thought he caught a
gleam of golden buttercups. The verdure crept up the snow-clad slopes,
hundreds and thousands of feet; and here and there, beside some foaming
little cataract tumbling down from a glacier-fed stream, a rhododendron
glowed like a rosy flame. They passed the last island, covered with a
copse of willows as high as a tall man's head, and came into an open
stretch of water bordered by rolling pasture lands, filled with daisies
and mild-eyed cattle. Sigurd clutched the English boy's arm excitedly.
"Yonder are Eric's ship-sheds! And there--over that hill, where the
smoke is rising--there is Brattahlid!"
"There?" exclaimed Alwin. "Now it was in my mind that you had told me
that Eric's house was built on Eric's Fiord."
"So it is,--or two miles from there, which is of little importance. Oh,
yes, it stands on the very banks of Einar's Fiord; but since that is a
route one takes only when he visits the other parts of the settlement,
and seldom when he runs out to sea--Is that a man I see upon the
landing?"
"If they have not already seen us and come down to meet us, their eyes
are less sharp than they were wont to be three years ago," Rolf began;
when Sigurd answered his own question.
"They are there; do you not see? Crowds of them--between the sheds.
Someone is waving a cloak. By Saint Michael, the sight of Normandy did
not gladden me like this!"
"Let down sail! drop anchor, and make the boats ready to lower," came in
Valbrand's heavy drone.
CHAPTER XIII
ERIC THE RED IN HIS DOMAIN
Givers, hail!
A guest is come in;
Where shall he sit?
Water to him is needful
Who for refection comes,
A towel and hospitable invitation,
A good reception;
If he can get it,
Discourse and answer.
Ha'vama'l
Ten by ten, the ship's boat brought them to land, and into the crowd of
armed retainers, house servants, field hands, and thralls. A roar of
delight greeted the appearance of Helga; and Sigurd was nearly
overturned by welcoming hands. It seemed that the crowd stood too much
in awe of Leif to salute him with any familiarity, but they made way for
him most respectfully; and a pack of shaggy dogs fell upon him and
almost tore him to pieces in the frenzy of their joyful recognition. A
fusillade of shoulder-slapping filled the air. Not a buxom maid but
found some brawny neck to fling her arms about, receiving a hearty smack
for her pains. Nor were the men more backward; it was only by clinging
like a burr to her mistress's side that Editha escaped a dozen vigorous
caresses. Alwin, with his short hair and his contradictorily rich dress,
was stared at in outspoken curiosity. The men whispered that Leif had
become so grand that he must have a page to carry his cloak, like the
King himself. The women said that, in any event, the youth looked
handsome, and black became his fair complexion. Kark scowled as he
stepped ashore and heard their comments.
"Where is my father, Thorhall?" he demanded, giving his hand with far
more haughtiness than the chief.
"He has gone hunting with Thorwald Ericsson," one of the house thralls
informed him. "He will not be back until to-night."
Whereupon Kark's colorless face became mottled with red temper-spots,
and he pushed rudely through the throng and disappeared among the
ship-sheds.
"Is my brother Thorstein also in Greenland?" Leif asked the servant.
But the man answered that Eric's youngest son was absent on a visit to
his mother's kin in Iceland. When the boat had brought the last man to
land, the "Sea-Deer" was left to float at rest until the time of her
unloading; and they began to move up from the shore in a boisterous
procession.
Between rich pastures and miniature forests of willow and birch and
alder, a broad lane ran east over green hill and dale. Amid a babel of
talk and laughter, they passed along the lane, the rank and file
performing many jovial capers, slipping bold arms around trim waists and
scuffling over bundles of treasure. Over hill and dale they went for
nearly two miles; then, some four hundred feet from the rocky banks of
Einar's Fiord, the lane ended before the wide-thrown gates of a high
fence.
If the gates had been closed, one might have guessed what was inside; so
unvarying was the plan of Norse manors. A huge quadrangular courtyard
was surrounded by substantial buildings. To the right was the great
hall, with the kitchens and storehouses. Across the inner side stood the
women's house, with the herb-garden on one hand, and the guest-chambers
on the other. To the left were the stables, the piggery, the
sheep-houses, the cow-sheds, and the smithies.
No sooner had they passed the gates than a second avalanche of greetings
fell upon them. Gathered together in the grassy space were more armed
retainers, more white-clad thralls, more barking dogs, more house
servants in holiday attire, and, at the head of them, the far-famed Eric
the Red and his strong-minded Thorhild.
One glance at the Red One convinced Alwin that his reputation did not
belie him. It was not alone his floating hair and his long beard that
were fiery; his whole person looked capable of instantaneous combustion.
His choleric blue eyes, now twinkling with good humor, a spark could
kindle into a blaze. A breath could fan the ruddy spots on his cheeks
into flames.
As Alwin watched him, he said to himself, "It is not that he was three
times exiled for manslaughter which surprises me,--it is that he was not
exiled thirty times."
Alwin looked curiously at the plump matron, with the stately head-dress
of white linen and the bunch of jingling keys at her girdle, and had a
surprise of a different kind. Certainly there were no soft curves in her
resolute mouth, and her eyes were as keen as Leif's; yet it was neither
a cruel face nor a shrewish one. It was full of truth and strength, and
there was comeliness in her broad smooth brow and in the unfaded roses
of her cheeks. Ah, and now that the keen eyes had fallen upon Leif, they
were no longer sharp; they were soft and deep with mother-love, and
radiant with pride. Her hands stirred as though they could not wait to
touch him.
There was a pause of some decorum, while the chief embraced his parents;
then the tumult burst forth. No man could hear himself, much less his
neighbor.
Under cover of the confusion, Alwin approached Helga. Having no
greetings of his own to occupy him, he made over his interest to others.
The shield-maiden was standing on the very spot where Leif had left her,
Editha clinging to her side. She was gazing at Thorhild and nervously
clasping and unclasping her hands.
Alwin said in her ear: "She will make you a better mother than Bertha of
Trondhjem. It is my advice that you reconcile yourself to her at once."
"It was in my mind," Helga said slowly, "it was in my mind that I could
love her!"
Shaking off Editha, she took a hesitating step forward. Thorhild had
parted from Leif, and turned to welcome Sigurd. Helga took another step.
Thorhild raised her head and looked at her. When she saw the picturesque
figure, with its short kirtle and its shirt of steel, she drew herself
up stiffly, and it was evident that she tried to frown; but Helga walked
quickly up to her and put her arms about her neck and laid her head upon
her breast and clung there.
By and by the matron slipped an arm around the girl's waist, then one
around her shoulders. Finally she bent her head and kissed her. Directly
after, she pushed her off and held her at arm's length.
"You have grown like a leek. I wonder that such a life has not ruined
your complexion. Was cloth so costly in Norway that Leif could afford no
more for a skirt? You shall put on one of mine the instant we get
indoors. It is time you had a woman to look after you."
But Helga was no longer repelled by her severity; she could appreciate
now what lay beneath it. She said, "Yes, kinswoman," with proper
submissiveness, and then looked over at Alwin with laughing eyes.
Eric's voice now made itself heard above the din. "Bring them into the
house, you simpletons! Bring them indoors! Will you keep them starving
while you gabble? Bring them in, and spread the tables, and fill up the
horns. Drink to the Lucky One in the best mead in Greenland. Come in,
come in! In the Troll's name, come in, and be welcome!"
Rolf smiled his guileless smile aside to Egil. "It is likely that he
will say other things 'in the Troll's name' when he finds out why the
Lucky One has come," he murmured.
CHAPTER XIV
FOR THE SAKE OF THE CROSS
A wary guest
Who to refection comes
Keeps a cautious silence;
With his ears listens,
And with his eyes observes:
So explores every prudent man.
Ha'vama'l
In accordance with the fashion of the day, Brattahlid was a hall not
only in the sense of being a large room, but in being a building by
itself,--and a building it was of entirely unique appearance. Instead of
consisting of huge logs, as Norse houses almost invariably did, three
sides of it had been built of immense blocks of red sandstone; and for
the fourth side, a low, perpendicular, smooth rock had been used, so
that one of the inner walls was formed by a natural cliff between ten
and twelve feet high. Undoubtedly it was from this peculiarity that the
name Brattahlid had been bestowed upon it, Brattahlid signifying 'steep
side of a rock.' Its style was the extreme of simplicity, for a square
opening in the roof took the place of a chimney, and it had few windows,
and those were small and filled with a bladder-like membrane instead of
glass; yet it was not without a certain impressiveness. The hall was so
large that nearly two hundred men could find seats on the two benches
that ran through it from end to end. Its walls were of a symmetry and
massiveness to outlast the wear of centuries; and the interior had even
a certain splendor.
To-night, decked for a feast, it was magnificent to behold. Gay-hued
tapestries covered the sides, along which rows of round shields
overlapped each other like bright painted scales. Over the benches were
laid embroidered cloths; while the floor was strewn with straw until it
sparkled as with a carpet of spun gold. Before the benches, on either
side of the long stone hearth that ran through the centre of the hall,
stood tables spread with covers of flax bleached white as foam. The
light of the crackling pine torches quivered and flashed from gilded
vessels, and silver-covered trenchers, and goblets of rarely beautiful
glass, ruby and amber and emerald green.
"I have nowhere seen a finer hall," Alwin admitted to Sigurd, as they
pushed their way in through the crowd. "If the high-seats were
different, and the fire-place was against the wall, and there were reeds
upon the floor instead of straw, it would not be unlike what my father's
castle was."
"If I were altogether different, would I look like a Saxon maiden also?"
Helga's voice laughed in his ear. She had come in through the women's
door, with Thorhild and a throng of high-born women. Already she was
transformed. A trailing gown of blue made her seem to have grown a head
taller. Bits of finery--a gold belt at her waist, a gold brooch on her
breast, a string of amber beads around the white neck that showed
coquettishly above the snowy kerchief--banished the last traces of the
shield-maiden, For the first time, it occurred to Alwin that she was
more than a good comrade,--she was a girl, a beautiful girl, the kind
that some day a man would love and woo and win. He gazed at her with
wonder and admiration, and something more; gazed so intently that he did
not see Egil's eyes fastened upon him.
Helga laughed at his surprise; then she frowned. "If you say that you
like me better in these clothes, I shall be angry with you," she
whispered sharply.
Fortunately, Alwin was not obliged to commit himself. At that moment the
headwoman or housekeeper, who was also mistress of ceremonies in the
absence of the steward, came bustling through the crowd, and divided the
men from the women, indicating to every one his place according to the
strictest interpretation of the laws of precedence.
If there had been more time for preparation there would have been a
larger company to greet the returned guardsman. Yet the messengers
Thorhild had hastily despatched had brought back nearly a score of
chiefs and their families; and what with their additional attendants,
and Leif's band of followers, and Eric's own household, there were few
empty places along the walls.
According to custom, Eric sat in his high-seat between two lofty carved
pillars midway the northern length of the hall. Thorhild sat in the seat
with him; the high-born men were placed upon his right; the high-born
women were upon her left. Opposite them, as became the guest of honor
and his father's eldest son, Leif was established in the other
high-seat. Tyrker, weazened and blinking, and swaddled in furs, sat on
one side of him; Jarl Harald's son was on the other, merry-eyed,
fresh-faced, and dressed like a prince. On either hand, like beads on a
necklace, the crew of the "Sea-Deer" were strung along. Kark came the
very last of the line, in the lowest seat by the door. Alwin had fresh
cause to be grateful to the fate that had changed their stations. His
place was on the foot-stool before Leif's high-seat, guarding the
chief's cup. It was an honorable place, and one from which he could see
and hear, and even speak with Sigurd when anything happened that was too
interesting to keep to himself.
Among Leif's men there were many temptations to consult together. Not
one but was waiting in tense expectancy for the move that should
disclose the guardsman's mission. They had sternest commands from Leif
to take no step without his order. They had equally positive word from
Valbrand to defend their chief at all hazards. Between the two, they sat
breathless and strained, even while they swallowed the delicacies before
them.
When the towels and hand-basins had gone quite around, and all the food
had been put upon the table, and the feast was well under way, three
musicians were brought in bearing fiddles and a harp. Their performance
formed a cover under which the guests could relieve their minds.
"Do you observe that he has let his crucifix slide around under his
cloak where it is not likely to be noticed?" one whispered to another.
"It is my belief that he wishes to put off the evil hour."
"When the horse-flesh is passed to him he will be obliged to refuse, and
that will betray him," the other answered.
But Eric did not see when Leif shook his head at the bearer of the
forbidden meat; and that danger passed.
Rolf murmured approvingly in Sigurd's ear: "He is wise to lie low as
long as possible. It is a great thing to get a good foothold before the
whirlwind overtakes one."
Sigurd shook his head in his goblet. "When you wish to disarm a serpent,
it is best to provoke him into striking at once, and so draw the poison
out of his fangs."
Under the shelter of some twanging chords, Alwin whispered up to them:
"If you could sit here and see Kark's face, you would think of a dog
that is going to bite. And he keeps watching the door. What is it that
he expects to come through it?"
Neither could say. They also took to watching the entrance.
Meanwhile the feasting went merrily on. The table was piled with what
were considered the daintiest of dishes,--reindeer tongues, fish,
broiled veal, horse-steaks, roast birds, shining white pork; wine by the
jugful, besides vats of beer and casks of mead; curds, and loaves of rye
bread, mounds of butter, and mountains of cheese. Toasts and compliments
flew back and forth. Alwin was kept leaping to supply his master's
goblet, so many wished the honor of drinking with him. His news of
Norway was listened to with breathless attention; his opinion was
received with deference. Often it seemed to Alwin that he had only to
speak to have his mission instantly accomplished. The English youth
noticed, however, that amid all Leif's flowing eloquence there was no
reference to the new faith.
The feast waxed merrier and noisier. One of the fiddlers began to shout
a ballad, to the accompaniment of the harp. It happened to be the "Song
of the Dwarf-Cursed Sword." Sigurd swallowed a curd the wrong way when
the words struck his ear; even Valbrand looked sideways at his chief.
But Leif's face was immovable; and only his followers noticed that he
did not join in the applause that followed the song. Some of the crew
let out sighs of impatience. They could fight,--it was their pleasure
next after drinking,--but these waits of diplomacy were almost too much
for them. It was fortunate that some trick-dogs were brought in at this
point. Watching their antics, the spectators forgot impatience in
boisterous delight.
While they were cheering the dog that had jumped highest over his pole,
and pounding on the table to express their approval, through chinks in
the uproar there came from outside a sound of voices, and horses
neighing.
"It is Thorwald, home from hunting!" Sigurd said eagerly, looking toward
the door. In a moment he was proved correct, for the door had opened and
admitted the sportsman and his companion.
Thorwald Ericsson was as unlike his brother Leif as the guardsman was
different from some of the plain farmers around him. He was long and
lean and wiry, and his thin lips were set in cruel lines. His dress was
shabby, and out of all decent order. Patches of fur had been torn out of
his cloak; he was muddy up to his knees, and there was blood on his
tunic and on his hands. He stood staring at the gay company in surprise,
blinking in the sudden light, until his gaze en-countered Leif, when he
cried out joyously and hastened forward to seize his hand.
Alwin drew away in disgust from the touch of his ill-smelling garments.
As he did so, his eye fell upon Kark, who had laid hold of Thorwald's
companion and was talking rapidly in his ear.
The new-comer was not an amiable-looking man. Above his gigantic body
was a lowering face that showed a capacity for slyness or viciousness,
whichever better served his turn. As Kark talked to him, his brow grew
blacker and he plucked savagely at his knife-hilt. It dawned upon Alwin
then that he must be Kark's father, the steward Thorhall of whom
Valbrand had spoken.
"In which case it is likely that something is about to happen," he told
himself, and tried to communicate the news to Sigurd. But Thorwald stood
between them, still pressing Leif's hand.
When the hunter had passed on down the line of the crew, Thorhall came
forward and greeted Leif with great civility. Only as he was retiring
his eye appeared to fall upon Alwin for the first time; he stopped in
pained surprise.
"What is this I see, chief? You have got another bowerman in place of my
son, whom your father gave to you? It must be that Kark has done
something which you dislike. Tell me what it is, and I will slay him
with my own hand."
Again Valbrand looked sideways at his master, as if to remind him that
he had warned him of this. Tyrker began to fumble at his beard with
shaking hands, and to blink across at Eric. This time they had attracted
the Red One's attention. His palm was curved around his ear that he
might not lose a word; his eyes were fastened upon Leif.
The guardsman's face was as inscrutable as the side of his goblet. "If
Kark had deserved to be slain, he would not be living now. He is less
accomplished than this man, therefore I changed them."
The steward bent his head in apparent submission. "Now, as always, you
are right. Rather than a boorish Odin-man, better is it to have a man of
accomplishments,--even though he be a hound of a Christian." He turned
away, as one quite innocent of the barb in his words.
An audible murmur passed down the line of Leif's men. No one doubted
that this was Thorhall's trap to avenge the slights upon his son. Would
the chief let this also pass by? Though their faces remained set to the
front, their eyes slid around to watch him.
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