Grettir the Outlaw 5

Grettir the Outlaw 5

Naturally enough the other men were annoyed, and they were not slow to

tell Grettir what they thought of him. He made no other reply than a

lampoon.

 

After the ship had lost sight of land a heavy sea was encountered, and

unfortunately the vessel was rather leaky and hardly seaworthy in dirty

weather. The weather was squally and very cold, so that the men suffered

much. Moreover, they had to bale out the water from the hold, and this

was laborious work. They had not pumps in those days.

 

The gale increased, and the crew and passengers had been engaged for

several days and nights in baling without intermission, but Grettir

would not help. He lay coiled up in his wadmall under the boat, peering

out at the men and throwing irritating snatches of song at them. This

exasperated them to such an extent that they determined to take him and

throw him overboard. Haflid heard what they said, and he went to

Grettir and reproached him, and told him what was menaced.

 

"Let them try to use force if they will," said Grettir. "All I can say

is that I sha’n’t go overboard alone as long as my sword will bite."

 

"How can you behave as you do?" said Haflid. "Keep silence at least, and

do not madden the men with your mockery and sneers."

 

"I cannot hold my tongue from stabbing," said Grettir.

 

"Very well, then, stab on, but stab me."

 

"No; you have not hurt me."

 

"I say, stab me. Then, if the fellows hear you sing or say something

spiteful of me, and I disregard it, they will not mind so much the

ill-natured things you say of them."

 

Grettir considered a moment, and then, remembering that he had heard of

something ridiculous that had once occurred to Haflid, he composed a

verse about it and shouted it derisively at Haflid as he walked away.

 

"Just listen to him," said Haflid to the men. "Now he is slandering and

insulting me. He is an ill-conditioned cur, so ill-conditioned that I

will not stoop to take notice of his insolence. And if you take my

advice you will disregard him as I do."

 

"Well," said the men, "if you shrug your shoulders and pay no regard to

his bark, why should we?"

 

So Haflid, by his tact, smoothed over this difficulty, and averted a

danger from Grettir’s head.

 

The weather slowly began to mend, and the sun shone out between the

clouds; but the wind was still strong, and the leak gained on the ship,

for her bottom was rotten. Now that the sun shone, the poor women who

had been aboard and under cover during the gale, crawled forth and came

to the side where the boat was, and where was a little shelter, and

there sat sewing; whilst Grettir still lay, like a dog in his hutch,

within. Then the men began to laugh, and say that Grettir had found

suitable company at last—he was not a man among men, but a milksop among

women. This was turning the tables on him, and this roused him. Out he

came crawling from his den, and ran aft to where the men were baling,

and asked to be given the buckets. The way in which it was done was for

one to go down into the hold into the water, and fill a tub or cask and

hoist it over his head to another man, who carried it up on deck and

poured it over the bulwarks. Grettir swung himself down into the hold,

and filled and heaved so fast that there had to be two men set to carry

up the baling casks, and then two more, four in all attending to him.

At one time he even kept eight going, so vigorously did he work;—but

then he was fresh, and they exhausted.

 

When the men saw what a strong, active fellow Grettir was, they praised

him greatly, and Grettir, unaccustomed to praise, was delighted and

worked on vigorously, and thenceforth was of the utmost assistance in

the ship.

 

They still had bad weather, thick mist, in which they drifted and lost

their bearings, and one night unawares they ran suddenly on a rock, and

the rotten bottom of the ship was crushed in. They had the utmost

difficulty in rescuing their goods and getting the boat ready; but

fortunately they were able to put all the women and the loose goods into

the boat, man her, and row off before the ship went to pieces. They

came to a sandy island, ran the boat ashore, and disembarked in the cold

and wet and darkness.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER VI.*

 

*THE RED ROVERS.*

 

 

_Rescued from the Holm—The Sullen Guest—The Outlawed

Rovers—Yule-tide Gatherings—The Suspicious Craft—Grettir Guides

the Rovers—The Worst Ruffians in Norway—Grettir Entertains the

Band—A Crew of Revellers—When the Wine is in—Thorfin’s

Treasures—Prisoners and Unarmed—Mad with Drink and Fury—One

Against Twelve—In Hot Pursuit—The Slaughter in the Boat-shed—The

Last of the Band—Wearied with Slaying—Thorfin’s Return—A Moment

of Perplexity—Better than a Dozen Men—The Gift of the Sword_

 

 

One morning, after a night of storm on the coast of Norway, the servants

ran into the hall of a wealthy bonder, named Thorfin, to tell him that

during the night a ship had been wrecked off the coast, and that the

crew and passengers were crowded on a little sandy holm, and were

signalling for help.

 

The bonder sprang up and ran down to the shore. He ordered out a great

punt from his boat-house, and jumping in with his thralls, rowed to the

holm to rescue those who were there.

 

These were, I need not tell you, the crew and passengers of Haflid’s

merchant vessel. Thorfin took the half-frozen wretches on board his

boat and rowed them to his farm, after which he returned to the islet

and brought away the wares. In the meantime his good housewife had been

lighting fires, preparing beds, brewing hot ale with honey to sweeten

it, and making every preparation she could think of for the sufferers.

 

Haflid and the rest of the merchants or chapmen who had sailed with him

remained at the farm a week, whilst the women were recovering from the

cold and exposure and their goods were being dried and sorted. Then

they departed, with many thanks for the hospitality shown them, on their

way to Drontheim.

 

Grettir, however, remained. Thorfin, the master of the house, did not

much like him. He did not ask him to stay; but then he had not the lack

of hospitality to bid him depart. In the farm Grettir never offered to

lend a hand in any of the work; he never joined in conversation, he sat

over the fire warming himself, and ate and drank heartily.

 

Thorfin was much abroad, hunting or seeing after the wood-cutting, and

he often asked Grettir to come with him. But he was granted no other

answer than a shake of the head and a growl. Now the bonder was a

merry, kindly-hearted fellow, and he liked to have all about him

cheerful. It is no wonder, then, that Grettir, morose and indolent,

found no favour with him.

 

Yule drew near, and Thorfin busked him to depart, with a number of his

attendants, to keep the festival at one of his farms distant a good

day’s journey. His wife was unable to accompany him, as his eldest

daughter was ill and needed careful nursing. Grettir he did not invite,

as his sullenness would have acted as a damper on the joviality of the

banquet.

 

The farmer started for his house where he was going to spend Yule some

days before. A large company of guests were invited to meet him, so he

took thirty serving-men to attend on him and them.

 

Norway was at this time being brought into order by Earl Erik, who was

putting down with a high hand the bands of rovers who had been the

terror of the country. He had outlawed all these men, and that meant

that whoever killed them could not be fined or punished in any way for

the slaying. Now Thorfin, the farmer with whom Grettir was staying, had

been very active against these rovers, and they bore him a grudge.

Among the worst of them were two brothers, Thorir wi’ the Paunch and Bad

Ogmund. They had not yet been caught, and they defied the power of the

Earl. They robbed wherever they went, burned farms over the heads of

the sleeping inmates, and with the points of their spears drove the

shrieking victims back into the flames when they attempted to escape.

 

Christmas Eve was bright and sunny, and the sick girl was sufficiently

recovered to be brought out to take the air on the sunny side of the

great hall, leaning on her mother’s arm.

 

Grettir spent the whole day out of doors, not in the most amiable mood

at being shut out from the merry-makings, and left to keep house with

the women and eight dunderheaded churls. He fed his discontent by

sitting on a headland watching the boats glide by, as parties went to

convivial gatherings at the houses of their friends. The deep blue sea

was speckled with sails, as though gulls were plunging in the waters.

Now a stately dragon-ship rolled past, her fearful carved head

glittering with golden scales, her sails spread like wings before the

breeze, and her banks of oars dipping into the sea and flashing as they

rose. Now a wherry was rowed by laden with cakes and ale, and the

boatmen’s song rang merrily through the crisp air.

 

The day began to decline, and Grettir was on the point of returning to

the farm, when the strange proceedings of a craft at no great distance

attracted his attention. He noticed that she stole along in the shadows

of the islets, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Grettir could

make out of her just this much, that she was floating low in the water,

and was built for speed. As she stranded the rowers jumped on the

beach. Grettir counted them, and found they were twelve, all armed men.

They burst into Thorfin’s boat-house, thrust out his punt, and in its

place drew in their own vessel, and pulled her up on the rollers.

 

Mischief was a-brewing—that was clear. So Grettir went down the hill,

and sauntered up to the strangers, with his hands in his pockets,

kicking the pebbles before him.

 

"Who is your leader?" he asked curtly.

 

"I am. What do you want with me?" answered a stout coarse man—"Thorir,

whom they nickname ’wi’ the Paunch.’ Here is my brother Ogmund. I

reckon that Thorfin knows our names well enough. Don’t you think so,

brother? We have come here to settle a little outstanding reckoning.

Is he at home?"

 

"You are lucky fellows," laughed Grettir, "coming here in the very nick

of time. The bonder is away with all his able-bodied and fighting men,

and won’t be back for a couple of days. His wife and daughter are,

however, at the farm. Now is your time if you have old scores to wipe

off; for he has left all his things that he values unprotected, silver,

clothing, ale, and food in abundance."

 

Thorir listened, then turning to Ogmund he said, "This is as I had

expected. But what a chatterbox this fellow is, he lets out everything

without being asked questions."

 

"Every man knows the use of his tongue," said Grettir. "Now, follow me,

and I will do what I can for you."

 

The rovers at once followed. Then Grettir took fat Thorir by the hand

and led him to the farm, talking all the way as hard as his tongue could

wag. Now the housewife happened at the time to be in the hall, and

hearing Grettir thus talking, she was filled with surprise, and called out to know whom he had with him.