grettir the outlaw 37

grettir the outlaw 37

Thereupon Glaum was dragged along to the cabin where Grettir lay, and

they treated him so roughly, that what with their blows and what with

fear, he was nearly senseless when he reached it.

 

Illugi had been sitting by the fire with his brother’s head in his lap,

whilst Grettir lay in some sheepskins beside the hearth. All that

evening the sick man’s eyes had been wandering about the roof, watching

the light play among the rafters, as the firewood blazed up or

smouldered away. Illugi saw that his fingers plucked at the wool of the

sheep-skins, riving it out, and that he knew was a bad sign. He felt

sure that Grettir would die that night, and he watched his face

intently, and could not bear to withdraw his eyes from him, for he loved

him dearly. Presently Grettir turned his head, and smiled when he saw

how he was watching him, and said that he felt easier, and would sleep.

In a few moments his eyes closed.

 

As he dozed, his face became calmer than Illugi had seen it before; the

muscles relaxed, and the wrinkles furrowed in his brow by care and

suffering were now smoothed quite away. Grettir’s face was never

handsome, but it was grave and earnest, and the sorrow and trial he had

passed through had left its trace on his features. His breath now came

more evenly in sleep.

 

All at once there sounded a crash at the door, and the sleeper opened

his eyes dreamily.

 

"It is only the old ram, brother," said Illugi. "He is butting, because

he wants to come in."

 

"He butts hard! he butts hard!" muttered Grettir, and at that moment the

door burst open. They saw faces looking in.

 

Illugi was on his feet in a moment. He seized his sword, flew to the

doorway and defended it bravely, so that no one could pass through.

 

Thorbiorn called to some of the men to get upon the roof, and he was

obeyed. The hovel was low, and in a moment four or five were on top of

it tearing off the turf that covered it. Grettir tried to rise to his

feet, but could only stagger to his knees. He seized his spear and drove

it through the roof, so that it struck Karr in the breast, and the wound

was his death.

 

Thorbiorn Hook called to the men to act more warily—they were

twenty-five in all against two men, and one dying.

 

So the men pulled at the gable ends of the house and got the ridge-piece

out, that it broke and fell, and with it a shower of turfs, into the

hut.

 

Grettir drew his short-sword—the sword he had taken from the barrow of

Karr the Old—and smote at the men as they leaped upon him from the wall.

With one blow he struck Vikarr over the left shoulder, as he was on the

point of springing down. The sword cut off his arm. But the blow was so

violent, that Grettir, having dealt it, fell forward, and before he

could raise himself Thorbiorn Hook struck him between the shoulders, and

made a fearful wound.

 

Then cried Grettir, "Bare is the back without brother behind it!" and

instantly Illugi threw his shield over him, planted one foot on each

side of him as he lay on the floor, and defended him with desperate

courage.

 

[Illustration: ILLUGI DEFENDS THE DYING GRETTIR.]

 

The mist of death was in Grettir’s eyes; he attempted in vain to raise

himself, but sank again on the sheep-skins, which were now drenched in

blood.

 

No one could touch him, for the brave boy warded off every blow that was

aimed at his brother.

 

Then Thorbiorn Hook ordered his men to form a ring round and close in on

them with their shields and with beams. They did so, and Illugi was

taken and bound; but not till he had wounded most of his opponents, and

had killed three of Thorbiorn’s men.

 

"Never have I seen one braver of your age," said The Hook. "I will say

that you have fought well."

 

Then they went to Grettir, who lay where he had fallen, unable to resist

further, for he had lost consciousness. They dealt him many a blow, but

hardly any blood flowed from his wounds. When all supposed he was dead,

then Thorbiorn tried to disengage the sword from his cold fingers,

saying that he considered Grettir had wielded it long enough. But the

strong man’s hand was clenched around the handle so firmly that his

enemy could not free the sword from his grasp.

 

Several of the men came up, and tried to unweave the fingers, but were

unable to do so. Then the Hook said, "Why should we spare this wretched

outlaw? Off with his hand!" And his men held down the arm whilst

Thorbiorn hewed off the hand at the wrist with his axe.

 

After that, standing over the body, and grasping the hilt of the sword

in both hands, he smote at Grettir’s head; the edge of the blade was

notched by the blow.

 

"Look!" laughed Thorbiorn. "This notch will be famous in story for many

generations; for men will point to it and say, ’This was made by

Grettir’s skull.’" He struck twice and thrice at the outlaw’s neck,

till the head came off in his hands.

 

"Now have I slain a notable man!" exclaimed Thorbiorn. "I will take

this head with me to land, and claim the price that was set on it; and

none shall deny that it was my hand that slew that Grettir whom all else

feared."

 

The men present said he might say what he liked, but that they believed

Grettir was already dead when he smote him.

 

Thorbiorn now turned to Illugi, and said, "It is a pity that a brave lad

like you should die, because you are associated with outlaws and

evil-doers."

 

"I tell you this," said Illugi, "that I will appear before you at the

great assize, and there will charge you with having practised witchcraft

to effect my brother’s death."

 

"You hearken to me, boy," said Thorbiorn. "Put your hand to mine, and

swear that you will not seek to avenge the death of your brother, and I

will let you go; but if you will not take this oath, you shall die."

 

"And hearken to me, Thorbiorn," said lllugi. "If I live, but one thought

shall occupy my heart night and day, and that will be how I may best

avenge my brother. Now that you know what to expect of me—take what

course you will."

 

Thorbiorn drew his companions aside to ask their advice; but they

shrugged their shoulders, and replied that, as he had planned the

expedition, he must carry it out as he thought best.

 

"Well," said The Hook, "I have no fancy for having the young viper lying

in wait to sting me wherever I tread. He shall die."

 

Now, when Illugi knew that they had determined on slaying him, he smiled

and said, "You have chosen that course which is best to my mind. I do

not desire to be parted from my brother."

 

The day was breaking. They led Illugi to the east side of the island,

and there they slew him.

 

It is told that they neither bound his eyes nor his hands, and that he

looked fearlessly at them when they smote him, and neither changed

colour nor even blinked.

 

Then they buried the brothers beneath a cairn in the island, but they

took the head of Grettir and bore it to land. On the way they also slew

the thrall Glaum.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XLII.*

 

*HOW ASDIS RECEIVED THE NEWS.*

 

 

_A Charge of Witchcraft—A Heroic Mother—Thorbiorn’s

Sentence—Burial of the Brothers_

 

 

Had the old hag, Thorbiorn’s foster-mother, any hand in the death of

Grettir? Certainly none. It was true that Grettir was wounded in the

way described, by his own axe, but the condition of the wound was due to

the scorbutic condition of his blood, through lack of green food. This

the Icelanders did not understand; they could not comprehend how a wound

could seem to be healing well and then break out and mortify afterwards,

and they supposed that this was due to witchcraft. Then, again,

Grettir’s kin could not take the case of Grettir’s murder into court,

because Thorbiorn had acted within the law when killing him; but by

charging him with the practice of witchcraft they made him amenable to

the law. So, partly, no doubt, in good faith, they trumped up against

Thorbiorn the accusation of having effected Grettir’s death by

witchcraft.

 

Now, it must be told how that, one day after the slaying of Grettir,

Thorbiorn Hook at the head of twenty armed men rode to Biarg, in the

Midfirth-dale, with Grettir’s head slung from his saddlebow. On reaching

the house he dismounted and strode into the hall, where Grettir’s mother

was seated with a servant. Thorbiorn threw her son’s head at her feet,

and said: "See! I have been to the island and have prevailed."

 

The lady sat proudly in her seat, and did not shed a tear; but lifting

her voice in reply, she sang:

 

"Milk-sop—as timid sheep

Before a fox all cow’ring keep;

So did you—nor could prevail

So long as Grettir’s strength was hale.

Woe is on the Northland side,

Nor can I my loat