grettir the outlaw 36

grettir the outlaw 36

Grettir replied that he felt great pain in his leg, and he thought, he

said, that some change must have taken place in the condition of the

wound.

 

Illugi at once blew up the embers on the hearth into a flame, and by its

light examined his brother’s leg. He found that the foot was swollen

and discoloured, and that the wound had reopened, and looked far more

angry than he had seen it yet. Intense pain ensued, so that poor Grettir

could not remain quiet for a moment, but tossed from side to side. His

cheeks were fevered, and his tongue parched. He could obtain no sleep

at all.

 

Illugi never left him, he sat beside him holding his hand, or bringing

him water to slake his unquenchable thirst.

 

"The worst approaches, and there is no avoiding it," said Grettir.

"This sickness is sent by the old witch in revenge for the stone I had

cast at her."

 

"I misliked the casting of that stone," said Illugi.

 

"It was ill that it did not fall on her head," said Grettir. "But what

is done may not be undone." Then he heaved himself up into a sitting

posture and sang, supporting himself against his brother’s shoulder, a

lay, of which only fragments have come down to us. A good deal of the

lay refers to incidents in Grettir’s life, of which no record remains in

the saga, and many staves have fallen away and been lost. So we give

but a few verses:—

 

"I fought with the sword in the bye-gone day,

In the day when I was young;

When the Rovers I slew in old Norway,

The land with my action rung.

 

"I entered the grave of Karr the Old,

I rived his sword away;

I strove with the Troll at Thorod’s-stead,

Before the break of day.

 

"With Thorbiorn Oxmain in the marsh

I fought, and his blood I shed;

Against Thorir of Garth have I stood in arms,

Who long would have me dead.

 

"For nineteen years, I a hunted man,

On mountain, on moor, and fen;

For nineteen years had to shun and flee

The face of my fellow men.

 

"For nineteen years all bitter to bear

Both hunger and cold and pain;

And never to know when I laid me down,

If I might awake again.

 

"And now do I lie with a burning eye,

As a wolf is fain to die;

Whilst the skies are dripping and ocean roars,

And the winds sob sadly by—"

 

 

The song was probably composed before, as otherwise it is not easy to

account for its preservation. His head was burning, his thoughts

wandered, and he ceased singing. He seemed to be dozing off. But

presently he started and shivered, and looked hastily about him.

 

"Let us be cautious now," he said, "for Thorbiorn Hook will make another

attempt. To me it matters little—but to you, brother. Glaum, watch the

ladder by day, and draw it up at night. Be a faithful servant, for now

all depends on you. Illugi will not leave me, so we are in your hands."

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XLI.*

 

*THE END OF THE OUTLAW.*

 

 

_The Shadow of Death—Thorbiorn and his Foster-mother—The Hook

sails for Drangey—Out in the Gale—The Unguarded Ladder—Glaum is

Captured—The Brothers’ last Evening—Defending the Hut—Grettir

Wounded—Illugi Taken—The Notch in the Sword—Illugi vows

Vengeance—Death of Illugi_

 

 

The weather became daily worse, and a fierce north-east wind raged over

the country, bearing with it cold and sleet, and covering the fells with

the first snows of winter. Grettir inquired every night if the ladder

had been drawn up, according to order. Glaum answered churlishly, "How

can you expect folk to live out in such a storm as this? Do you think

they are so eager to kill you that they will jeopardize their lives in

trying to do this? It is easy to see that a little cut was all that

lacked to let your courage leak out."

 

Grettir answered, "Go! and do not argue with us; guard the ladder as you

have been bidden!"

 

So Illugi drove the churl from the hut every morning, notwithstanding

his angry remonstrances; and Glaum was in the worst of humours.

 

The pain became more acute, and the whole leg inflamed and swollen,

signs of mortification appeared, and wounds opened in different parts of

the limb, so that Grettir felt that the shadow of death hung over him.

Illugi sat night and day with his brother’s head on his shoulder,

bathing his forehead, and doing his utmost to console the fleeting

spirit. A week had elapsed since the wound had been made.

 

Now, Thorbiorn Hook was at home, ill-pleased at the failure of all his

schemes for dispossessing Grettir of the island.

 

One day his foster-mother came to him, and asked whether he were ready

now to pay his final visit to the outlaw?

 

Thorbiorn replied that he had paid quite as many visits to him as he

liked, and that he should not go to Drangey again till Grettir left it;

and then, with a sneer he asked his foster-mother whether she wanted to

have her second leg broken, and was not satisfied with the fracture of

one.

 

"I will not go to Drangey myself," answered the old woman. "That is

unnecessary. I have sent him my salutation, and by this he has received

it. Speed away now to Drangey, and find how he relishes my message.

But I warn you, you must go now or you will be too late."

 

Thorbiorn would not listen; he said that her advice last time had led to

no advantage when he followed it, and that the weather was too bad to go

out in.

 

"You need go but this once," said the crone. "The storm is of my

sending, and is sent to work my ends."

 

Finally he allowed himself to be persuaded. So he got together men, and

asked his neighbours to help him; and a large vessel was manned. That

is to say, the other farmers consented to lend him men, but none of them

would accompany him themselves. The Hook took twelve of his own men;

his brother, Hialti, lent him three; Erick of Gooddale sent one man;

Tongue-stone furnished him with two; another, named Halldor, let him

have six. Of all these, the only two whose name need be mentioned are

Karr and Vikarr.

 

Thorbiorn got a large sailing-boat for his purpose, and started from

Heron-ness. None of the men were in good spirits, as the weather was

bad; moreover, they had no liking for their leader. By dusk the boat

was afloat, the sail spread, and they ran out to sea. As the wind was

from the north-east, they were under the lee of the high cliffs, and

were not exposed to the full violence of the storm.

 

Heavy scuds of rain and sleet swept the fiord; the sky was overcast with

whirling masses of vapour, charged with snow, and beneath their shadow

the waters of the firth were black as ink. For one moment the clouds

were parted by the storm, the rowers looked up, and saw the heavens

tinged with the crimson rays of the northern light. A flame ran along

the cordage, and finally settled on the masthead of the vessel, swaying

and dancing with the motion of the boat. It was that electric spark,

which is called in the Mediterranean S. Elmo’s fire.

 

A line of white foam marked the base of Drangey; and now and then a

great wave from the mouth of the fiord boomed against the crags, and

shot in spouts of foam high into the air. Along the western shore of

the firth, which was exposed to the full brunt of the gale, the mighty

billows were beaten into white yeasty heaps of water. From the top of

Drangey one tiny spark shone from the window of the hovel where lay the

dying outlaw.

 

Now let us look again at Grettir.

 

He had been in less pain that day. Illugi had not left him, but

remained faithful at his post.

 

The thrall, Glaum, had been sent out as usual to collect fuel and to

watch the ladder, and to draw it up at nightfall. But instead of doing

as he was bidden, the fellow laid himself down at the head of the steps,

under a shelter-hut of turf that had been there erected, and went to

sleep.

 

When Thorbiorn and his party reached the shore, they found to their

content that the ladder had not been removed.

 

"Good luck attends on those who wait," said The Hook "Now, my fellows!

the journey will not prove as bootless as you expected. Up the ladder