Grettir the Outlaw 14

Grettir the Outlaw 14

On opening the door he found all the cattle loose and goring each other.

Slung across the stone that separated their stalls was the old

serving-man, perfectly dead, with his back broken. He had, apparently,

been tossed by the cows, and had fallen on this stone backwards.

 

Neither Thorhall nor his wife explained his death in this way; they

thought that Glam must have been there, have driven the cattle wild, and

that just as he had broken the back of Thorgaut, so had he now broken

that of the poor old serving-man.

 

It was impossible for the bonder to remain longer in that place; he and

his wife therefore removed down to Tongue, which lies at the junction of

the two rivers, and there things were quiet. There he was hospitably

received by Jokull. Thorhall was able to persuade some of his runaway

servants to come back to him, but no man all that winter would go near

the moor where was the barrow of the shepherd Glam.

 

Not till the summer returned, and the sun had dispelled the darkness,

did Thorhall venture back to the Vale of Shadows. In the meanwhile his

daughter’s health had given way under the repeated alarms of the winter;

she became paler every day; with the autumn flowers she faded, and was

laid in the churchyard before the first snowflakes fell. What was

Thorhall to do through the winter? He knew that it was not possible for

him to secure servants if he remained on his own farm; besides, he did

not know what loss might come to his stock. Then, he could not spend

the whole winter at Tongue, for that was another bonder’s house, and

though the farmer there had kindly received him and entertained him for

three months the winter before, he could not ask him to give him

houseroom to himself, his cattle, and servants for a whole long winter.

 

So he was in the greatest possible perplexity what to do. Help came to

him from an unexpected quarter.

 

Grettir had heard the story of the hauntings, and he rode to Thorhall’s

farm and asked if he might be accommodated there for the night. He said

that it was his great desire to encounter Glam.

 

Thorhall was surprised, but not exactly pleased, for he thought that the

family at Biarg would attribute the wrong to him were anything to happen

to Grettir.

 

Grettir put his horse into the stable, and retired for the night to one

of the beds in the hall and slept soundly.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XV.*

 

*HOW GRETTIR FOUGHT WITH GLAM.*

 

 

_Grettir awaits Glam—The Sound of Feet—Glam breaks into the

Hall—A Strange Figure—Grettir seizes Glam—Grettir’s Last

Chance—Glam’s Curse—The End of Glam—Was it True?_

 

 

Next morning Grettir went with Thorhall to the stable for his horse.

The strong wooden door was shivered and driven in. They stepped across

it; Grettir called to his horse, but there was no responsive whinny.

Grettir dashed into the stall and found his horse dead; its neck was

broken.

 

"Now," said Thorhall, "I will give you a horse in exchange for that you

have lost. You had better ride home to Biarg at once."

 

"Not at all. My horse has been killed, and I must avenge it." So

Grettir remained.

 

Night set in. Grettir ate a hearty supper, and was right merry. But

not so Thorhall, who had his misgivings. At bed-time the latter crept

into a locked bedstead beside the hall; but Grettir said he would not go

into a bed, he would lie by the fire in the hall. So he wrapped himself

up in a long fur cloak and flung himself on a bench, with his feet

against the posts of the high seat. The fur cloak was over his head,

and he kept an opening through which he could look out.

 

There was a fire burning on the hearth, a smouldering heap of glowing

embers, and by the red light Grettir looked up at the rafters of the

blackened roof. The smoke escaped by a _louvre_ in the middle. The wind

whistled mournfully. The windows high up were covered with parchment,

and admitted now and then a sickly yellow glare from the full moon,

which, however, shone in through the smoke hole, silvering the rising

smoke. A dog began to bark, then bay at the moon. Then the cat, which

had been sitting demurely watching the fire, stood up with raised back

and bristling tail, and darted behind some chests. The hall-door was in

a sad plight. It had been so torn by Glam that it had to be patched up

with wattles. Soothingly the river prattled over its shingly bed as it

swept round the knoll on which stood the farm. Grettir heard the

breathing of the sleeping women in the adjoining chamber, and the sigh

of the housewife as she turned in her bed.

 

Then suddenly he heard something that shook all the sleep out of him,

had any been stealing over his eyes. He heard a heavy tread, beneath

which the snow crackled. Every footfall went straight to Grettir’s

heart. A crash on the turf overhead. The strange visitant had scrambled

on the roof, and was walking over that. The roofs of the houses in

Iceland are of turf. For a moment the chimney gap was completely

darkened—the monster was looking down it—the flash of the red fire

illumined the horrible face with its lack-lustre eyes. Then the moon

shone in again, and the heavy tramp of Glam was heard as he walked to

the other end of the hall. A thud—he had leaped down.

 

Then Grettir heard his steps passing to the back of the house, then the

snapping of wood showed that Glam was destroying some of the outhouse

doors. Presently the tread was heard again approaching the house, and

this time the main entrance. Grettir thought he could distinguish a

pair of great hands thrust in over the broken door. In another moment

he heard a loud snap—a long plank had been torn out of place, and the

light of the moon shone in where the gap had been made. Then Glam began

to unrip the wattles.

 

There was a cross-beam to the door, acting as bolt. Against the gray

light Grettir saw a huge black arm thrust in trying to remove the bar.

It was done, and then all the broken door was driven in and went down on

the floor in shivers. Now Grettir could see a tall dark figure, almost

naked, with wild locks of hair about the head standing in the doorway.

That was but for a minute, and then Glam came in stealthily; he entered

the hall and was illumined by the firelight. The figure Grettir now saw

was unlike anything he had seen before. A few rags hung from the

shoulders and waist, the long wolf-gray hair was matted. The eyes were

staring and strange. Grettir could hear Thorhall within his locked bed

trembling and breathing fast.

 

Presently Glam’s eyes rested on the shaggy bundle by the high seat. He

stepped towards it, and Grettir felt him groping about him. Then Glam

laid hold of one end of the fur cloak and began to pull at it. The cloak

did not come away. Another jerk. Grettir kept his feet firmly pressed

against the posts, so that the fur was not pulled away. Glam seemed

puzzled; he went to the other end of the bundle and began to pull at

that. Grettir held to the bench, so that he was not moved himself, but

the fur cloak was torn in half, and the strange visitant staggered back

holding the portion in his hand wonderingly before his eyes. Before he

could recover from his surprise, Grettir started to his feet, bent his

body, flung his arms round Glam, and driving his head into the breast of

the visitor, tried to bend him backward and so snap his spine. This was

in vain, the cold hands grasped Grettir’s arms and tore them from their

hold. Grettir clasped them again about his body, and then Glam threw his

also round Grettir, and they began to wrestle. Grettir saw that Glam

was trying to drag him to the door, and he was sure that if he were got

outside he would be at a disadvantage, and Glam would break his back.

He therefore made a desperate effort not to be drawn forth. He clung to

benches and posts, but the posts gave way, and the benches were torn

from their places.

 

At each moment he was being dragged nearer to the door. Sharply

twisting himself loose, Grettir flung his arms round a beam of the roof,

for the hall was low. He was dragged off his feet at once. Glam

clenched him about the waist, and tore at him to get him loose. Every

tendon in Grettir’s breast was strained; still he held on. The nails of

Glam cut into his side like knives, then his hands gave way. He could

endure the strain no longer, and Glam drew him towards the doorway, in

so doing trampling over the broken fragments of the door, and the

wattles that lay about. Grettir knew that the last chance was come for

saving himself. Here, in the hall, he could hold to posts and beams,

and so make some resistance; but outside he would have nothing to cling

to, and strong though he was, his strength did not equal that of his

opponent.

 

Now the door-posts were of stone, and the beam that had served as bolt

went across the door, slid into a hollow on one side cut in the

door-post, and was pulled across and fitted into another hollow in the

other post. As the wrestlers neared the opening, Grettir planted both

his feet against the stone posts, one against each, and put his arms

round Glam. He had the enemy now at an advantage; but then, he merely

held him, and could not hold him so for ever. He called to Thorhall,

but Thorhall was too greatly frightened to leave his place of refuge.

 

"Now," thought Grettir, "if I can but break his back!" Then drawing Glam

to him by the middle, he put his head beneath the chin of his opponent

and forced back the head. If he could only drive the head far enough

back he would break his neck.

 

At that moment one or both of the door-posts gave way; down crashed the

gable-trees, ripping beams and rafters from their places, frozen clods

of turf rattled from the roof and thumped into the snow.

 

Glam fell on his back outside the door, and Grettir on top of him. The

moon was, as I said before, at her full; large white clouds chased each

other across the sky. Grettir’s strength was failing him, his hands

quivered in the snow, and he knew that he could not support himself from

dropping flat on the mysterious and dreadful visitant, eye to eye, lip

to lip.

 

Then Glam said: "You have done ill matching yourself with me; now know

that never shall you be stronger than you are to-day, and that, to your

dying day, whenever you are in the dark you will see my eyes staring at

you, so that for very horror you will not dare to be alone."

 

At this moment Grettir saw his short sword in the snow, it had slipped

from his belt as he fell. He put out his hand at once, clutched the

handle, and with a blow cut off Glam’s head, and at once laid it beside

his thigh.

 

Thorhall came out at this juncture, his face blanched; but when he saw

how the fray had ended, he joyfully assisted Grettir to roll the dead

man to the top of a pile of faggots that had been collected for winter

fuel. Fire was applied, and soon far down the Waterdale the flames of

the pyre startled folks, and made them wonder what new horror was being

enacted in the Vale of Shadows.

 

Next day the charred bones were conveyed a long way—some hours’

ride—into the great desert in the interior, and in one of the most

lonely spots there a cairn or pile of stones was heaped over them. I

have seen this mound, which is still pointed out as that under which the

redoubted Glam lies.

 

And now we may well ask, what truth is there in the story? That there

is a basis of truth can hardly be denied. The facts have been

embellished, worked up, but not invented. The only probable explanation of the story is this.