The Greenlanders (79 page)

It also happened on this hunt that Kollgrim Gunnarsson did a great deed, and prevented a man from his district, whose boat capsized and went under the waves, from drowning, or even getting more than his legs wet, for Kollgrim saw the danger he was in from the seething pod of seals, and maneuvered his boat near to the fellow, and so when the other boat began to turn over, Kollgrim leapt forward and grabbed this man under the arms, and dragged him into his boat, which might have capsized it, except that Kollgrim was known to have uncanny balance. Men made much of this, but Kollgrim only said that he regretted the lines and spears and oars that were lost, and the boat, too, for it was waterlogged, and could not be saved.

After the seal hunt, the autumn came on, and slaughtering of sheep, and Sira Pall Hallvardsson sent about messengers, calling folk to a great feast, in honor of St. Michael the Archangel, although some time after that feast day actually takes place. All the Greenlanders knew that the Icelanders would be there, and that they would have a great many tales and rhymes to tell, and so, although they feigned inconvenience at the trek, especially in the autumn, before the fjords were certain to be frozen, all made great efforts to get there, and those who were bedridden or otherwise incapable, called their folk together and pledged them to commit to memory as much as they could of these outlandish rhymes they were to hear.

Jon Andres, Helga, Kollgrim, Elisabet, and Egil also intended to go to this feast, although Helga was very far gone with her first child. One day while Helga was standing about the fire on which the servingmen had seared the sheeps’ heads for svid, and she was stirring up the bits of wood, so that the ashes could burn all the way down for soapmaking, it came to her that she must go around the hill to Gunnars Stead, although it also seemed to her that this would be a great labor for her, as her ankles and legs were much swollen with the humors of the coming child. Still, she could not put this thought of seeing Kollgrim off from her mind, and so she called a servingman to her, and sent him to find Jon Andres, who was about the farm buildings somewhere. But the servingman returned to say that Jon Andres had gone off after some horses that were hobbled in the hills above Undir Hofdi church, and could not be found, and then Helga was tempted to send the servingman to Kollgrim, and she began to give him the message, that the knowledge had come to her that he must not go to the Gardar feast. She saw at once that the message did not fit the man, and when he repeated it back to her, she saw that it was unconvincing in his mouth, and would have no effect on Kollgrim—indeed, he would not even remember it as soon as the man was departed, and so she took a few steps away from the fire, thinking that she might go off to Gunnars Stead herself after all, but these few steps gave her such burning pains in the tops of her legs, that she sat down upon the ground, and sent the servingman off after all. And this seemed to be the case to Helga, that her own child would bring about the death of her brother. And this was something else that she thought, that folk had been expecting Kollgrim’s death through misadventure for the whole of his life, and he was still walking about. So it happened that the message was given, but not heard, and all of the Ketils Stead folk and the Gunnars Stead folk went together in the large Gunnars Stead boat to Gardar, and it was so late in the season that two servingmen had to push off the ice floes with ax handles.

Sira Pall Hallvardsson was much bent with the joint ill and went about on two sticks. His knees and hips were much misshapen, and he was unable to kneel at prayer, but indeed, he said to Gunnar, if the Lord has no eyes in his head to see the burdens of his folk, then no one has such eyes. Whatever men see, the Lord sees with infinitely greater clarity. Sira Jon, he said, was indeed still alive, and he asked Gunnar please to come into the man’s chamber and speak to him, for it was the case that Jon spoke of Gunnar from time to time. “My friend,” said Sira Pall, “it may not soothe his spirits to see you, but it will help his eternal soul.” And Gunnar followed Sira Pall Hallvardsson to the other priest’s chamber with some trepidation.

Sira Jon was as small as a handful of twigs lashed together, and he lay covered with a piece of wadmal on a pallet of woven rushes. The room was close and damp, small enough so that the breathings of the man warmed it. Gunnar stood hunched beneath the low ceiling. Sira Jon’s hands lay upon the coverlet. The fingers were so afflicted with the joint ill that they were turned back upon themselves, and the flesh of the man’s arms had wasted away to bone. Sira Pall Hallvardsson said, “My brother, here is a soul who seeks comfort from you.”

“He is a Greenlander, I see by his brawn.” He spoke with bitterness.

Gunnar looked at Sira Pall Hallvardsson, and then at Sira Jon, and said, “All men seek the Lord’s forgiveness for their sins. I, as well.”

“It may be that the Lord forgives them, it may be that He does not. Such things are not for a priest to know, that is the substance of the tale I have to tell. Seek nothing from me, Gunnar Asgeirsson.”

“Indeed, I know not what I seek, except a kindness between men.”

“The Lord cares nothing for the kindness of men.”

“But men care for it.”

“I care not for it. You and your sister were as ripe figs, swollen with pride in your beauty and the sweetness of your wayward natures.”

“I remember this not.”

“It was the case that the vision came to your wife, the vision of the Virgin and the Child, and in your carelessness you deserved it not.”

“Indeed, Sira Jon, I saw it not, for I was sleeping. Only the girl saw it. You must forgive her, my Birgitta, for she has suffered from her visions, and never gained pleasure from them.”

“Greenlanders know little of suffering.”

“It seems to me that each man knows the suffering of others through the suffering he feels. If you say to me that Greenlanders know little of suffering, then I must reply that it is you who know little of suffering.”

“You Greenlanders have always held my office in small respect. I am not surprised to hear such speeches from you.”

All of this time, Sira Pall Hallvardsson had been leaning himself partly against the wall and partly against his two sticks. Now he stumbled, and Gunnar reached out and lifted him up, and then said, “It seems to me that we are old men wrangling as young men. On the day of my Helga’s wedding I gave up the Greenlander’s pastime of cherishing enmity. I seek the forgiveness of the Lord and the kindness of men from you, Sira Jon.”

“Nay, Gunnar Asgeirsson, these goods are not mine to give you. Look elsewhere than in this coffin. Be off now, for I care not to have you stooping about here any longer.” And he closed his eyes. Gunnar helped Sira Pall Hallvardsson through the door and followed him into the passage. Sira Pall Hallvardsson smiled sadly into Gunnar’s face, and said, “Here is the brother who was given to me. His flesh is as well known to me as my own, his words pour into my ears. I am his priest, his nurse, and his only companion, for the others about the place fear him. He nears death, and I can give him nothing for the journey.”

“Thus it is that I think of my son, Kollgrim. It seems to me that there are men whose way through life is so lonely that they shun the Grace of God itself.”

“Every man may be saved in the last moment of his life.”

“Do all men wish to be?”

“It is said that they do.”

“Then it must be the case. We are old men who will soon know for ourselves.”

“Sira Audun made a prayer for me once, to tease me with it. It goes, ‘Our Lord, this is I, Pall Hallvardsson, far out on the western ocean. I am the priest in this place who thinks well of You.’ ”

Gunnar laughed. Sira Pall Hallvardsson said, “This is my daily prayer.” And they walked out of the hall and into the field, where many folk were milling about and exchanging news of the autumn.

Birgitta was sitting on the hillside, between Helga and Kollgrim, and she had her arms through theirs. Below her on the hillside sat Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, with little Egil at the breast, and though Birgitta clung tightly to Helga and Kollgrim, it was Elisabet that she was speaking to. She said, “My girl, you must sit up and hold the boy up, and let him suck the teat far into his little mouth, and then, indeed, he will not be able to bite you. But he is too young yet even to have his meat chewed for him.”

Elisabet murmured, “Yes, well,” in a low voice, but the child shifted and fell away from the teat again, and the mother made no effort to lift him. He began to whimper. Birgitta said again, still with patience, “Indeed, girl, your child is hungry and desires suck. Does this not give your ears pain to hear his cries?” And Elisabet remembered herself and sat up straighter on the hillside. Birgitta turned to Helga and said, so that Kollgrim could hear, “This child is as small as a puppy and prattles not, though he has lived most of a winter and a summer.”

“Yes, my mother,” said Helga.

“Every one of my children was standing and looking about after such a time as has passed with this one. My boy Kollgrim was already walking out of the steading. These are a poor stock, this lineage of Thorolf. Their blood is thinned by too much fish, it seems to me. They are like priests. Thorolf is willing about the steading, but indeed, at times in the winter he cannot lift himself out of the bedcloset. The son will be as bad when he has gotten on a few years. Have you hope for this child, Helga?”

“I hope in the morning that I will see him in the evening, and I hope in the evening that I will see him in the morning, and my hopes are always fulfilled.”

“But soon you will have your own child, and have to give over your visits to this one.”

“We may yet persuade Elisabet to bring the child to Ketils Stead. But, indeed, it is a hard thing to move her. Jon Andres declares that she looks like a bird but is as heavy as a whale.”

Now Kollgrim said, “Things are not ill for her at Gunnars Stead. There is plenty of food about the place, and warm furs in the bedclosets.” And after this, Birgitta and Helga gave over their talk of Elisabet and the child. Now a procession of finely dressed folk came down the hillside, and the group was comprised of Sigrid Bjornsdottir and some other Solar Fell folk and some Icelanders, including Thorstein the rhymer, Thorgrim, his wife Steinunn, her sister Thorunn, Snorri the ship’s master, and some other folk. All the Greenlanders turned their heads to gaze upon these newcomers, and Kollgrim gazed upon them, too, Helga saw, as if his eyes were starting out of his head, and Helga had not known that he cared so much for Sigrid. She grew frightened, and gripped her mother’s arm tightly. Now the group passed where they were sitting, and Sigrid’s gaze fell first upon Helga and then upon Kollgrim, and she smiled, but as much in embarrassment as in pleasure. Helga saw that her eyes searched Kollgrim’s face for a moment before dropping to the grass. Helga turned and looked at Kollgrim. He looked at Sigrid not at all, but at someone else in the group. Helga could not discover who this might be, for all were bunched together and talking merrily. Sigrid joined them with hardly a hesitation, only the hesitation of her fleeting look at Kollgrim, then at Elisabet Thorolfsdottir, then at the child. The procession passed on. Now Helga looked at her mother, and Birgitta looked as well at her daughter, and it seemed to Helga that some knowledge passed between them, and Helga was much afraid, for Birgitta had a great reputation for sight.

It was the case with this Gardar feast that there were actually two days of eating, as well as four services, for indeed, if many men were to make their way to St. Nikolaus Cathedral, then they must gorge themselves on liturgy and prayer, for they would see little enough of it through the winter, in spite of the efforts of Sira Eindridi and Sira Andres. The cathedral was always full of folk, for folk like to pray in the presence of a relic, though it be only the last finger bone of the least finger. Many offerings were left to this St. Olaf the Norwegian, and folk felt better for it. Larus the Prophet himself spent a deal of time kneeling before the reliquary, and folk remarked at the stillness of his posture and the length of his prayer. Ashild stood nearby, with little Tota, watching him, and when he was finished, she helped him to his feet, and he staggered away leaning upon her shoulder.

Now folk were called into the cathedral for the first service, and they packed in so tightly that they sat upon one another on the benches, and although there was no fire, there was sufficient warmth. Sira Eindridi pronounced the mass, and it seemed to some folk that he filled out the parts he didn’t know with bits of prayers that he remembered from elsewhere, or had made up. As usual, he gave a great long sermon, full of damnation and sorrow, and dire predictions of Hell, where, he said, fire burned like ice, and damned souls eked a bit of rotten cheese out for eternity and their bellies were never full, and always raging with the stomach ill, so that they covered themselves with shit, and suchlike predictions, and during this sermon, as usual, folk began to talk quietly among themselves, which drove the priest to an even greater pitch of anger, so that his face grew as red as ash berries and he had to stop speaking for gales of breath that shook him. But now came the communion time in the service, and men fell quiet and attended to their prayers.

It happened that Sira Eindridi’s sermon went on so long, and the cathedral was so close with folk that some of them had to go out into the air toward the end of the service, and one of these was Steinunn Hrafnsdottir, the Icelandic woman. She slipped away from the side of her sister Thorunn, and when she stepped onto the grass, she saw that the fjord below the cathedral was lit by the red and white glow of the setting sun, and so she thought to stroll down beside the landing place, where all the boats were drawn up on the strand. Her sister Thorunn was somewhat afraid of the Greenlanders, and disliked to walk among them alone, but Steinunn could not see this. These folk had rather poor manners, and were inclined to stare, and knew not how to speak with the proper forms, but in Steinunn’s view, they were no worse than some Icelanders who lived in remote districts. The field before the cathedral sloped gently downward, and Steinunn took some deep breaths of the chilly air. She was not a little pleased to be by herself, for indeed, Thorgrim, her husband, was a hovering, attentive fellow, and his hands were always upon her. Now she walked among the little boats and marveled at them, for they were patched together any old way, out of scraps and pieces of planking, and they stank strongly of seal oil. All of Greenland stank strongly of seal oil, Steinunn had discovered. Even so, she had no longing to return to Iceland, but rather a horror of it, although Thorgrim was a powerful man there. It seemed to her that Thorgrim would do well to settle in Greenland, since he had not chosen to settle in Norway. It was said among the Greenlanders that there were many good abandoned farms, and it would not be so hard, after all, to go off to Iceland or Norway for a cargo of sheep and cows. Snorri’s ship was big enough for that. Whatever Thorgrim chose to do, it seemed to Steinunn that she could not go back to Iceland, for indeed, everyone there, it was said, had died. The thought made her heart flutter, and she put her hand to her breast and stopped walking to catch her breath.