The Saga of Colm the Slave (19 page)

Colm went on back down the path until he
came to the small meadow. Gagarr came running up to him, barking.
“What is it?” Colm looked into the meadow. Gagarr began growling.
“Hush, hush.” Colm listened carefully. There was a sound, a low
moaning, from somewhere. He was afraid. Perhaps it was a troll or
some other creature come to destroy him. Gagarr ran back into the
meadow, still barking, and Colm cautiously followed him.

The meadow was narrow, trapped between
mountains, and sloped in a gentle grade away from the path for
about a hundred yards until it dropped off into a canyon. Gagarr
stood on a small rise about three quarters of the way down the
meadow. When Colm mounted the rise, he saw what had excited
Gagarr.

There was a gash in the meadow, a gap
revealing a hole beneath the turf. Colm could see movement in the
hole and heard a cow lowing. He started to clamber down then
stopped to study the situation. He saw a cow’s head raise as it
moaned. Above the cow, a half-circle of grass was missing – grazed
away no doubt – and Colm could see that turf protruded in a thin
lip over the hole. He went around to the side of the rise and
crawled forward toward the opening. He punched the ground ahead of
him as he moved. He took his time. Colm knew what to expect but he
was still surprised when the sod caved and folded under his punch.
He cut into the turf as deeply as his knife would allow, then
inserted both his hands and pulled the cut apart. The grass ripped
away and flopped on either side like cloth. A face stared up at
Colm and he started.

Colm pulled back on the grass until he
opened the turf all the way to the loose gravel at the side of the
hole, then he lay on the solid earth and looked down at the face
below. Open eyes, clouded and opaque, stared back up at him. Now
Colm could see the flies that swarmed about the face and caught the
stink of death rising from below. He pulled away the turf to reveal
the edge of the pit all the way along until, at the far end, it
abruptly closed in a tumble of rocks, gravel, and loose soil. This
hole had been slashed from the earth by erosion or ancient glacial
action and now was slowly filling up with gravel and soil washed
down from the meadow above. The hole had become narrow enough so
that a mantle of turf hid most of the opening.

Colm rose to his knees and shielded his
eyes from the light. He could see a cow standing, raising its head
and lowing from time to time. Colm thought it was Mikla-Tit.
Another cow lay on its side, moaning weakly. One of its legs seemed
bent and was probably broken. Under the cow lay the man’s body,
just his head and lower legs visible. Brand, thought Colm. He rose
to his feet, caught his horse, and made his way quickly down the
mountain to the cattle byre.

Berta and Arnfrith were inside, working
at separate chores. Colm thought a minute, then went to Arnfrith.
“I need you to go down the mountain to your master’s farm. Can you
ride?” Arnfrith nodded and Colm led her to his horse. “Tell Gunnar
I have found the cattle. Tell him to fetch men and tools. We’ll
need rope and shovels. Can you remember that?” Arnfrith repeated it
back for him. She hitched her skirts up above her hips and Colm
helped her mount the horse.

“What about my master?” asked Berta.

“Walk down and get him,” said Colm. He
knew that meant Gunnar would get the message before Ketil. “There
is a dead man, too. Brand, I think.” He nodded toward Arnfrith to
remind Berta that this was Gunnar’s man who was dead. But perhaps
it would be just as well not to have Gunnar and Ketil both here
unsupervised. “Tell Gunnar to send for Thorolf, too,” said Colm.
The women left and Colm made his way back up to the meadow.

Gagarr stood at the edge of the hole,
barking at his master. “All right, Gagarr, I hear you. Now, hush!”
Gagarr continued to bark while Colm studied the situation. The hole
was about eight feet deep and he thought that he could climb down
at the far end in the gravel scree and, more important, climb out
the same way. So he walked carefully to the end of the hole and put
one foot past the turf. Loose soil and gravel collapsed under him
and Colm sat down and slid into the hole in a flurry of stones.

The base of the pit was firm and Colm
stood upright. Now the death-stink was stronger, along with the
acrid stench of cow piss. The prostrate cow raised its head a
little but it was obviously far gone. Mikla-Tit stood facing the
other direction; the fallen cow’s rear legs and Brand’s feet lay
beneath her. There was no room for the cow to turn around; she
could not make it out of the pit. Colm wondered if she had dropped
to her knees during her trial but when he saw her swollen bag, he
doubted if it was possible for the animal to do anything but stand.
Mikla-Tit was so hefty with milk that her udder dragged the
ground.

Colm stepped over the fallen cow’s
forelegs and squatted beside Mikla-Tit. He grasped her teats and
began milking the animal. It was difficult at first; milk had
curdled and thickened in her udder. Colm worked the foul-smelling
bloody curds from the animal and eventually got milk streaming from
her teats. He milked her straight onto the ground. She lowed in
relief and gratitude.

After milking Mikla-Tit, Colm looked to
the other cow. He could not see how to milk her while she lay on
her broken rear leg. There was blood on her udder and flies crawled
over the milk that had expressed there. Unable to reach the turf at
the edge of the pit, the cow had not eaten in days. The cow was
going to die. Colm thought about cutting her throat, but he did not
want to excite Mikla-Tit. These were close quarters and an excited
animal could crush him.

Colm crawled back out of the pit. The
loose earth flowed like water as he clawed at it. He was breathing
hard by the time he managed to haul himself up onto the turf. Even
Gagarr had difficulty scrambling out of the hole. Colm lay on his
belly and grabbed a handful of the dog’s fur, helping pull the
animal out. The two of them sat there, looking down at the cows and
the dead man. Colm tried to understand what had happened. Had this
cow wandered off and Brand gone after and the two fallen into the
pit together? Her leg broken and him underneath? Or had they been
uninjured in the fall and then, when Brand tried to lead the animal
out had her slip in the loose soil and collapse on him with a
broken leg? Either way, Colm hoped that the man hadn’t lain here,
crushed beneath this cow, for a long time before he died. And what
of Mikla-Tit? Had she come back after the missing cow or had she,
herself, been at fault by leading the animal into this ungrazed
meadow? Anyway, perhaps others would look at this tableau and come
up with another story.

It was late afternoon when Colm glimpsed
people on the path at the far end of the meadow. He shouted and
waved and Gagarr barked until the men noticed them and rode into
the meadow.

Gunnar greeted Colm and took in the
scene in the pit. Colm showed him where the lip of turf grew over
and looked deceptively like good footing. Gunnar called over a man
with a turf knife who cut away the grass all around back to the
edge of the hole. Then there was much discussion of how to get
Mikla-Tit out. Ketil arrived then and stared down at the cattle.
“How did this happen?”

Colm said, “I think the cattle came into
this little meadow because it was untouched grazing. They went into
the hole and Brand was hurt trying to get them out.” No one came up
with a better story.

Thorolf rode up soon after with Hallvard
riding right behind him. Immediately Thorolf took charge. He had
men dig away at the side of the pit so that it was no longer a
sheer wall but sloped at an angle down to Mikla-Tit. A man went
into the hole and wound ropes under her belly. Cloth was put under
the ropes for padding. The man was pulled back up out of the hole.
Then the rescuers took the ropes around Mikla-Tit and tied some of
them to horses. Strong men took hold of the others. Slowly they
dragged Mikla-Tit from the hole. The cow complained all the while
but, when she was once up out of the pit and onto the grass, raised
her head to the sky and gave a little dancing kick with her hind
legs that made men laugh.

The rest of the herd was coming down the
path now, heading for the byre, and some men led Mikla-Tit to the
other cattle. Skeggi was with the herd. He walked slowly across the
meadow and stared down into the hole. He didn’t say anything.

A man picked up an axe and started to
climb down into the hole but Gunnar stopped him. “It’s Ketil’s
cow,” he said. “It’s up to him what happens.”

Ketil turned red but he grabbed the axe,
slid down into the hole, and killed the cow. His peg leg gave him
trouble and he had difficulty standing. He tied a rope around his
waist and men pulled him out as he lay on his back. Then they
hauled out the animal’s carcass, sliding it out the far end where
men scrambled in and out of the pit. Brand’s body pulled to the
side as the cow was dragged across it. Colm saw that the man’s
lower abdomen was crushed and some of his entrails protruded.
Gunnar said, “That was a good man.”

Skeggi hung his head. He knew the words
were a reproach to him. Ketil’s face stayed red. Gunnar slid into
the hole and wrapped a cloak around Brand’s body and slung it over
his shoulder. He grabbed a rope that men threw down to him and
hauled himself out of the pit, hand over hand. It was quite a show
of strength.

“We will take him back for burial,” said
Gunnar. “I will leave another man at the byre.” He glanced at
Skeggi. “In fact, I will leave two men.”

Skeggi hung his head. Ketil shouted at
him, “You good-for-nothing!” and hit him with a hard backhand. “Get
off my land! Don’t let me ever see you again!” He kept hitting him.
Skeggi stood, arms at his side, until Ketil finally managed to
knock the boy down. Skeggi lay on the ground not even trying to
protect himself. Ketil tried to kick him but lost his balance and
fell down. No one laughed then but Ketil knew that they would later
when they told people what had happened. On his hands and knees,
Ketil leaned into Skeggi’s face shouting and cursing until Thorolf
walked over.

Thorolf took Skeggi’s arm and pulled him
to his feet. “Best you leave now, I think,” he said. Skeggi wiped
blood and tears from his face and stumbled off toward the path.
Then Thorolf helped Ketil to his feet. “I think this matter is
finished,” he said. “What do you say?” he asked Gunnar.

“There is nothing more to be done. I
cannot completely blame the boy. My girl was the reason he
neglected his duties. So this is done, I think.”

Thorolf turned to Ketil. He was still
huffing with rage but nodded and said, “Done.”

“Good,” said Thorolf, “And let us all
remember the value of a good neighbor.”

Some men stayed behind to butcher the
cow while the others headed home. Colm decided to stop on the way
by a hot spring pool that he knew of and clean up. “Come on,
Gagarr.” He pulled the dog’s ears. “You did well.”

“So did you,” said Thorolf, “You did
very well indeed.” Hallvard smiled at Colm when his grandfather
did.

Afterwards, Gunnar and Ketil no longer
shared the cattle pasturage. For a time they did not speak, then
one day, Ketil offered Gunnar a generous sum of money for his share
of the byre and the milk shed. He did not say it was compensation
for Brand’s death nor did he apologize for calling Gunnar a thief.
Gunnar accepted the money. They were very cool and civil to one
another from this time forward but there was no enmity between
them.

Although Mikla-Tit calved that winter,
she gave no milk and seemed to have dried up completely. Ketil had
her slaughtered. He did not wait for a sacrifice.

Arnfrith stayed on with Gunnar’s
household, though he never sent her up with the cattle or away from
the farmstead again. Her baby was a boy and Gunnar did not expose
it. After a few years she and her boy moved into an abandoned house
several miles from Gunnar’s steading. She had a few animals and did
chores during the busy seasons at different farms. When work was
slack it was said she entertained men at her place who brought her
gifts or food. When her son was old enough, he got work here and
there and eventually got a permanent place on a farm in the south.
People there seemed to find him a good worker.

Skeggi left the area entirely. From time
to time word came back that had found work somewhere but he never
managed to stay on anyplace. The last people heard, he had just
lost a place on a farm in the North Fjords. Then there was no more
about him, not for a long time.

14. Gunnar’s Gift

People thought well of Colm after the
lost cows incident. He had helped out the community and prevented
trouble. His farm was doing well and he had acquired some wealth.
He was a man-killer. He was treated as an equal by most men and no
one ever mentioned his and Gwyneth’s enslavement, at least not to
their face.

Shortly after the cows were discovered,
Gunnar sent Colm a gift. One of his farmhands, a free man, acted as
messenger. Colm brought the man in and called for skyr. He sat the
man beside him on the benches and asked after his comfort and
needs. He offered beer, which the man accepted. After these
amenities were out of the way, Colm accepted Gunnar’s gift.

Colm received a great rolled hanging.
Four cloaks had been stitched together down their lengths, then the
cloth was embroidered with colored threads. These depicted the
voyage of Floki Vilgerdarson searching for the place called Snow
Land by those who had found it. He had ravens aboard and, when he
thought land might be near, he set one free. If the bird returned
then Floki knew that land was still far off. But when a raven did
not return but flew straight away, then he knew land was close by.
He steered in the direction the raven had flown and came upon the
place he sought. But Floki was disappointed in the new land and did
not stay. He called it Ice Land and sailed away, though others soon
made the voyage and settled the new country. After a time Floki
returned to Iceland but he had lost the opportunity of being a
great man there.