Grettir the Outlaw 16

Grettir the Outlaw 16

At once every one caught up the first weapon to hand, and rushed to the

attack. Grettir defended himself with a fire-brand plucked from the

hearth; the sons of Thorir stumbled over the fire, and the embers were

strewn about over the floor that was covered with fresh straw.

 

In a few moments the hall was filled with flame and smoke, and Grettir

took advantage of the confusion to effect his escape. He ran down to

the shore, plunged into the sea and swam across.

 

He found his companions waiting for him behind a rock, with a pile of

dry wood which they had collected during his absence. The cinders were

blown upon, and twigs applied, till a blaze was produced, and before

long the whole party sat rubbing their almost frozen hands over a

cheerful fire.

 

Next morning the merchants recognized the fiord, and, remembering that a

hostel stood on the further side, they crossed the water to see it,

when—what was their dismay to find of it only a heap of smoking embers!

From under some of the charred timber were thrust scorched human limbs.

The chapmen, in alarm and horror, turned upon Grettir and charged him

with having maliciously burned the house with all its inmates.

 

"See, now," said Grettir, "I had a thought that this expedition would

not bring luck. I would I had not taken the trouble to get fire for

such a set of thankless churls."

 

The ship’s crew raked out the embers, pulled aside the smoking rafters,

in their search for the bodies. Some of these were not so disfigured but

that they could recognize them. Moreover, they knew the ship that lay

at anchor under the lee, hard by, and they saw that Grettir had brought

the sons of Thorir to an untimely end. The indignation of the merchants

became so vehement, and their fear so great that they might be

implicated in the matter, that they drove Grettir from their company,

and refused to receive him into their vessel for the remainder of their

voyage. Grettir, in sullen wrath, would say no word of self-defence; he

had to make his way on foot to Drontheim, where he resolved to lay the

whole matter before the king.

 

The vessel reached Drontheim before him, and the news of the hostel

burning roused universal indignation against Grettir.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XVIII.*

 

*THE ORDEAL BY FIRE.*

 

 

_Grettir tells his Story—Preparing for the Ordeal—The

Procession—Attacked by the Mob—The King Intervenes—Wicked or

Unlucky_

 

 

One day, as King Olaf sat in audience in his great hall, Grettir strode

in, and going before his seat, greeted the king. Olaf looked at him and

said:

 

"Are you Grettir the Strong?"

 

He answered: "That is my name, and I have come hither, kinsman, to get a

fair hearing, and to clear myself of the charge of having burned men

maliciously. Of that I am guiltless."

 

King Olaf replied: "I heartily trust that what you say is true, and that

you will be able to rid yourself of a charge so bad."

 

Grettir replied that he was ready to do whatsoever the king desired, in

order to prove his innocence.

 

Then said the king to him, "Tell me the whole story, that I may be able

to judge."

 

Grettir answered by relating the circumstances. He had simply taken fire

from the hearth, when he was fallen upon by those who were drinking, and

who were too tipsy to understand his explanation. He went away with the

red-hot embers, and did not set fire to anything, but the drunken men

kicked the glowing coals about amidst the straw.

 

The king remained silent some moments, and then he said: "There are no

witnesses either on your behalf or against you. No man was by who is

not dead. God and his angels alone know whether you speak the truth or

not, therefore I must refer you to the judgment of God."

 

"What must I do?" asked Grettir.

 

"You will have to go through the ordeal of fire," said the king.

 

"What is that?" asked the young man.

 

"You must lift bars of red-hot iron, and walk with bare feet on

ploughshares heated red in a furnace."

 

"And what if I am burnt?"

 

"Then will you be adjudged guilty."

 

Grettir shrugged his shoulders: "If it must be so, let it be at once;

but whether I be burnt or not, I declare that I am clear of all intent

to hurt those men."

 

"You cannot undergo the ordeal now," said the king. "You would be

burned to a certainty. You must go through preparation first."

 

"What preparation?"

 

"A week of fasting and prayer," was the reply.

 

Then Grettir was taken away and put in ward, and fed with bread and

water for a week, and the bishop visited him and taught him to pray that

if he were innocent, God would reveal his innocence by enabling him to

pass unscathed through the ordeal.

 

The day came, and Drontheim was thronged with people from all the

country round, to see the Icelander of whom such tales were told. A

procession was formed; first went the king’s body-guard followed by the

king himself, wearing his crown, then came the bishop, the choir, and

the clergy, and last of all Grettir, his wild red hair flying loose in

the breeze, his arms folded, and his eyes wandering over the sea of

heads that filled the square before the cathedral doors. The crowd

pressed in closer and closer. Opinions differed as to whether he were

guilty or not. Among the mob was a young man of dark complexion, who

made a great noise, shouldering his way to the front, and shouting.

 

"Look at the fellow!" he exclaimed. "This is the man who, in cold

blood, burnt down a house over helpless men, and now he is to be given u

chance of escape."

 

"But he says he is guiltless," argued one in the crowd.

 

"Guiltless!" exclaimed the youth. "If one of us had done the deed,

should we have been trifled with? The king wants him for his

body-guard, because he is so strong."

 

"He should be given a chance of clearing himself," said one who stood

near.

 

"Yes—of course—because he is a kinsman of the king. So the irons have

been painted red, to look as if hot. I know how the trick is done. But

he shall not escape me."

 

Thereupon the young man sprang at Grettir and drove his nails into his

face so that they drew blood; at the same time he poured forth against

him a stream of insulting names.

 

This was more than the Icelander could bear; he caught the young man, as

a cat catches a mouse, held him aloft, shook him, and then threw him

away, when he fell on the ground and was stunned. It was feared he might

be killed. This act gave occasion to a general uproar; the mob wanted

to lay hands on Grettir; some threw stones, others assaulted him with

sticks; but he, planting his back against the church wall, turned up his

sleeves, guarded off the blows, shouting to his assailants to come on.

Not a man came within his reach but was sent reeling back or was felled

to the ground. In the meantime the king and the bishop were in the choir

waiting. The red-hot ploughshares which had been laid on the pavement

were gradually cooling, but no Grettir appeared.

 

[Illustration: GRETTIR DEFENDS HIMSELF FROM THE MOB.]

 

At last the sounds of the uproar reached the king’s ear, and he sent out

to know the occasion. His messenger returned a moment after to report

that the Icelander was fighting the whole town and had knocked down and

well nigh killed several persons. The king thereupon sprang from his

throne, hastened down the nave, and came out of the great western door

when the conflict was at its height.

 

"Oh, sire," exclaimed Grettir, "see how I can fight the rascals!" and at

the word he knocked a man over at the king’s feet.

 

With difficulty the tumult was arrested, and Grettir separated from the

combatants; and then he wanted to go with the king and try the ordeal of

fire.

 

"Not so," answered Olaf, "you have already incurred sin. It is possible

that some of those you have knocked down may never recover, so that

their blood will lie at your door."

 

"What is to be done?" asked Grettir.

 

The king considered.

 

"I see you are a very wicked or at all events a very unlucky man. When

you were here before you were the occasion of several deaths. I do not

desire to keep you in Norway, but as winter has set in you may tarry

here till next spring, and then you shall be outlawed and return to

Iceland."

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XIX.*

 

*THE WINTER IN NORWAY.*

 

 

_At Einar’s Farm—The Bearsarks—A Visit from Snœkoll—The

Bearsark’s Demand—Grettir Temporizes—The Bearsark has a

Fit—Death of Snœkoll—Dromund’s History—Grettir’s Arms—A Pair of

Tongs_

 

 

King Olaf had decided that Grettir must leave Norway and return to

Iceland. If he was not a guilty man he was a most unfortunate one.

Now, the Norse race, whether in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, or Iceland,

believed in luck. They said that certain men were born to ill-luck, and

such men they avoided, because they feared lest the ill-luck that clung

to them might attach itself to, and involve those who came in contact with them.