The Greenlanders (64 page)

“And then they greeted us with that tale, the tale of the Virgin and Child walking upon the grass. I see now that it was a concocted story, meant to distract us from our purpose, but it seemed so simple and marvelous then, that the Child should be robust and playful, and clothed only in a white shirt, and that the Mother should take such delight in Him, and that They should laugh together among the flowers. It seemed to me that all my doubts, about going off from my uncle, about the Greenlanders, whatever my doubts might have been at the time, the foolish doubts of a young man about the nature of worldly things, let us say, all of these were answered, and what this girl said she had seen, it entered my own mind as an indelible vision of joy, as if I had seen it myself. And then, when I was sufficiently transported, our business was conducted to their satisfaction, and we departed, once again nearly running, hungry as we could be, so that we ate up the food at Undir Hofdi church with relish, and then dragged the boat down to the water and threw ourselves into it, and came, in the dark, back to Gardar, where the bishop was already asleep, and when I slept myself, which was almost instantly, I dreamt over and over of the Two, strolling on the grass, and when the bell rang for vespers, I went to my prayers as to the greatest joy, without a jot of fatigue or pride or dutifulness. I was as if subdued to a jelly, and the love of God rose off me like an odor.” He smiled. “These are the things I think on of late, although as always, these thoughts will leave me, and others will come in that are not so pleasant. My mind is like a room where the door swings free in the breeze, and many visitors come and go and stay and vanish as they will.”

It seemed to Sira Pall Hallvardsson as he went away to other duties that Sira Jon must die now, in such a state of peace, but he had no faith of this outcome. He himself had never felt such pleasure as the other priest described, but he did not envy it. He saw that he was a man made for this world. It was true that he had never solaced himself with images of Heaven, nor frightened himself with images of Hell. Even as a boy in his monastery, his attention had wandered during the course of such catalogs, and he had never convincingly made a sermon about any world beside the one he was right just then standing in. Such thoughts cast him down, for it is the duty of priests to cause men to think upon their eternal deserts. He came into the great Gardar hall and found Bjorn Bollason the lawspeaker and most of his household loitering about. He saw that among them was the old woman Margret Asgeirsdottir.

The folk who lived at Solar Fell had gotten into the habit of wearing amulets around their necks that looked like small faces and were carved of bone. These white bits had “O.G.N.S.” incised into their obverse sides, which meant “Olaf the Greenlander preserves us.” Bjorn Bollason’s wife, Signy, and his daughter, Sigrid, wore amulets that were very large, strung about their necks on intricately woven ribbons. Sira Pall Hallvardsson considered that they were ostentatious as well as against church teaching, but he had never said anything about it, and he did not say anything now. Bjorn Bollason came up to him as soon as he saw him, and inquired after his health in a friendly way, then brought Signy and Sigrid forward, and they knelt and kissed his finger, and then the boys bowed and spoke to him respectfully. The lawspeaker and some servants had skied over to Gardar once before since the stranding of the whales, and so Sira Pall Hallvardsson knew the news from there, about how stores had just begun to run out when the whales were discovered, and so everyone, even old Hoskuld, even the least regarded of the servants, had survived the hunger. But no one was fat, Pall Hallvardsson could see that. Everyone looked just as he or she should. Pall Hallvardsson buried his suspicions and walked toward the high seat. He disliked sitting in the high seat unless he was entertaining Bjorn Bollason in some way.

Bjorn Bollason followed him, saying, “You see we have with us your old friend Margret Asgeirsdottir. We think very highly of her. Sigrid is especially fond of her. She is a very courteous person, and it is hard to believe she has lived in such places as she has lived for so many years. You will certainly want to speak with her later on.”

“I was hoping for an occasion.”

“Now that we have her to stay with us, for that is what we think of her, that she is our guest, though she came seeking work as a servant, and she won’t let a day go by without turning her hand to some sort of cooking or weaving, I greatly regret the death of Sira Isleif, for they, too, were friends, and could have had some pleasant talks beside our fire.”

“Yes, I’m sure—”

“Which is not to say that she chatters on and on. She is much too courteous for that, but only speaks when she must, and Sigrid takes her for a model in all of these things.”

“But this can’t be the business which has brought you with all your train to Gardar?”

“No, indeed, but it is partly a pleasure trip, partly a pilgrimage to the relics you have here, and partly for doing business, and of that I will say at once, that if you are planning a feast of thanksgiving here, it seems to Hoskuld, Signy, and myself a happy thought that the feast should take place at Solar Fell rather than at Gardar, in the field above our shrine to St. Olaf the Greenlander there. For it is to him that we attribute the salvation of the Greenlanders.”

Now Sira Pall Hallvardsson sent up a little prayer for the courage to contradict Bjorn Bollason, and speak the truth about “St. Olaf the Greenlander,” that he could not be called a saint until his case had been argued in Rome, and many uncontested miracles had been observed as his doing. In addition to this, it was a great sin for someone to ride the “sainthood” of this unfortunate child as a horse that would carry him where he wished to go in the world. But even as his temper rose, a countervailing pity for Bjorn Bollason’s tiny battle against the limits of the world he lived in filled Pall Hallvardsson’s breast, and he looked across the room at the well-dressed and haughty pride of Signy and her daughter, such a small flickering lamp sending out a single ray into the darkness of the western ocean. Their careful robes and their headdresses, which many women had given up now, made him feel as far from Europe as he had ever felt in his life, farther, perhaps, than it was possible to be from Europe, measured in mere travel. And so, once again, he did not speak. He had not thought to have a celebration, anyway. Bjorn Bollason’s plans seemed as good as any. He shrugged and nodded, and Bjorn Bollason smiled with pleasure. Pall Hallvardsson said, “Surely you have had a difficult trip, at least difficult enough to warrant a little refreshment?” and he called in Andres Eindridason, and told him to order some refreshments from the cook, something like sourmilk, that did not have to go over the fire. Then he confided to Bjorn Bollason that the cooking had fallen to such a low state that the servants were loud in their complaints.

After this food, the folk from Solar Fell went into the cathedral and prayed there. Though they did not have a regular mass, Eindridi Andresson was pleased to lead them in a Te Deum and other responsive thanksgiving prayers. Eindridi admired Bjorn Bollason and Bjorn Bollason was much pleased with Eindridi. These prayers went on for a long time, for Signy was a great one for praying, and so it was not until dusk and time for departure that Pall Hallvardsson was able to speak to Margret Asgeirsdottir. He asked if he could walk with her over the hill to the Eriks Fjord jetty, and speak with her on the way, and this is what they did, so as not to delay Bjorn Bollason and risk having him and his whole party spend the night at Gardar.

“So you have found a good place,” he said, when the group had stretched out and left them alone.

“It seemed to me at the time that I had found the only place in all of the north where there was an extra bit of food for an extra mouth. Such trials as folk endured in Dyrnes I hope never to witness again. When I went to my previous place, I agreed never to take food from the mouths of the children, but as Lent went on, I began to dream that I could feed them with my own flesh. Such a happy course of action was not available to me, though, and I had to leave them. Even so, the two little ones died and their mother, who is Freya, the wife of Gudleif Finnleifsson, is much cast down, almost to madness, it is said. And others have died, as well, Finna Eyvindsdottir, and many more. None at Solar Fell, though the broth was thin enough at the end. It must be said that Bjorn Bollason and Signy did all that was within their duty, and maybe all that was within their power. They welcomed me with smiles, though I brought nothing for my service besides a piece of cloth.”

“It is true that they are generous folk, and the rewards that they hope to receive are only such as men should give to anyone who benefits them.”

“Another thing seems to me to be true about Signy, although of Bjorn Bollason I know little, and that is that whatever rewards she gets, she is happy enough with them, and she is not jealous of those she does not get. Still—”

“Still what?”

“They make much of me, and it is uncomfortable to be with them. They would like to be made much of, themselves, and so they think that this is everyone’s desire.” She walked along for a while, and Pall Hallvardsson was hard put to stay with her, for she still walked with a free, swinging stride and a straight back. The joint ill, he could see, had not touched her. She said, “I hope that I will be forgiven for such unreasonable complaints. Truly, when I came scratching at the steading for a place, Signy herself welcomed me in and begged me to sit on the bench and offered me dry socks and asked me no questions until I had slept.”

“I wish you had come to Gardar.”

“I heard of Olaf and Petur, as well. You are hard put without Olaf, I suspect.”

“It seems to me that I am as a man who is walking down the road and hears the footsteps of robbers behind him. He fears to look or to stop, and only thanks the Lord that they aren’t upon him yet.”

She glanced at him briefly, and then away, her face white in the deepening twilight. He said, “The folk at Lavrans Stead are well, although it was a close thing with Birgitta, or so Thorkel Gellison says. Olaf has died.” Margret nodded. Now they came to the top of the hill that overlooks Eriks Fjord, and Pall Hallvardsson stopped and gave Margret his hand. At the bottom of the hill, the younger folk were pushing the boat off the strand, and behind them, Signy was calling out names and admonishments to make haste. Margret said, “I think often of Olaf these days. It was a great sin that we always used Olaf as a tool, and overlooked him when it suited our pleasure to do so. I wish he were here to replace Petur, and to care for the Gardar cows.” She turned away and began down the slope, then turned back and called, “There is a lovely valley behind Solar Fell that they say is abundant with both northern and southern sorts of herbs. I will bring some in the summer for the Gardar stores!” She waved, then walked and trotted down the slope. Bjorn Bollason himself helped her into the boat, with that smile of his. Pall Hallvardsson saw that he wouldn’t get to the escarpment above Gardar before dark.

It seemed to Margret that Solar Fell was to be her final home, and that her final trial was to be watched and imitated without cease by Sigrid and even Signy herself, who had a habit of glancing at Margret as she worked, and then cocking her head or fixing her hand so that it imitated a gesture that Margret might be making. She was always admonishing Sigrid, by pokes and nods in Margret’s direction, to stand up proudly. This attention discomfited her for more reasons than one. It seemed to Margret that no Greenlander could be without knowledge of her adultery with Skuli the Norwegian, but indeed, Signy had been but a child of fourteen in those times, and Bjorn Bollason himself only nine. Hoskuld would have been at the Thing where Gunnar tricked Kollbein Sigurdsson out of his judgment, but even Hoskuld seemed not to remember or to recognize her. Perhaps it was only that he was an old man and had his own ancient quarrels to ruminate upon. Or perhaps folk didn’t care about such things as they once had. Bjorn Bollason and Signy, for example, had a number of friends in both Brattahlid and Dyrnes who had left their families during one year of the hunger or another and gone to live with mates before the wedding. And most folk, it was said, were too poor for weddings now, anyway. Too poor to send for the priest, too poor to give a feast, too poor to carry gifts to the bridal couple, too poor to leave off the farm work for such pleasures. And even if there were no weddings, there had to be children, didn’t there? Of all folk, children had suffered and dwindled the most during the hunger. Perhaps, Margret thought as they rowed the short trip across the fjord to Solar Fell, folk hadn’t cared much then. Perhaps only she and Gunnar had cared so much.

Always, when they came up the slope toward the steading, the Solar Fell folk stopped at the shrine of St. Olaf and said a prayer to him, or looked for evidence of a miracle, and it was Margret’s habit to linger behind so that her failure to do this wouldn’t be noticed. This time, however, even in the dark, Sigrid did notice, and came up to her and took her hand, saying, “Do you not love St. Olaf for his innocence?”

“He was surely a good little boy, and much loved by his family, but I do not know the truth about his holy nature.”

“But my father says that he has saved us from the hunger, and that it was our great good fortune to live so close to the shrine.”

“I would not contradict him, if Sira Pall Hallvardsson does not.”

Now Sigrid fell silent but continued to hold Margret’s hand as they entered the steading. She was a handsome child, with surprising dark hair and bright blue eyes, for indeed, it was said that some Irishmen had come with a boat of Icelanders to Greenland in the time of King Sverri and left their mark on the lineage of a few Dyrnes families. At any rate, both Bjorn Bollason and Signy thought a great deal of the girl, more perhaps, than they thought of any one of their four sons, although Bjorn Bollason always brought the boys forward as a group and bade them to plant their feet just so and straighten their shoulders and look folk in the eye, and on and on. The regard of the parents had not spoiled Sigrid’s temperament, though, and she had the open manner of one who thought well of herself but knew that pride was a sin.