The Saga of Colm the Slave (16 page)

“Funny,” said Mar. “You’d think I would
have noticed you were getting ready to have a child.”

“Notice or not, Thurid is my daughter
now.”

Mar looked at the resolute faces of the
three women and laughed. “There’s no one who will say otherwise so
far as I am concerned.”

So Thurid came into Ingveld’s household.
People called her Thurid Three-Mothers or Thurid Norns-Daughter,
after the three Norns who weave the cloth of Fate. Ingveld bought
Groa from Thorgils. She did not haggle over the price but looked at
him with such disapproval that Thorgils didn’t ask very much. Even
then, people were not proud of the practice of exposing babies and
it was seldom discussed, but it continued to happen because that
was the way things had been done for as long as anyone could
remember.

Gwyneth spent a lot of her time at
Ingveld’s farm now and became easier and more pleasant than before.
But neither Colm nor Geirrid saw her smiles increase for Gwyneth
had become set in the manner she treated them. She did not
recognize that she had become cooler and more distant toward her
son and her husband. If anyone had asked, Gwyneth would have said
that she loved them dearly and be surprised at the question. And in
fact, she did love them, she loved them both very much.

10.Egil Bloodhead And His Wife,
Gunnora

Sometimes Gwyneth considered the plight
of women. They were weak and at the mercy of men, she thought, and
became angry. Other times, she thought women very powerful, able to
lead a man around by his parts, and then she felt contempt toward
men.

Egil Bloodhead was married to a woman
called Gunnora. Sometimes Gwyneth would be chatting with Gunnora or
they would be in a group of other women and Gunnora would speak of
Egil with disdain. Gwyneth was always surprised to hear Gunnora
sneer at her husband. Egil had a great red birthmark across his
face that turned bright with blood when he became excited. Gunnora
said it made him ugly. Another woman asked if the birthmark lit up
when Egil made love. Gunnora said, “I don’t know. I shut my eyes
when he comes close.” Then she laughed and the other women joined
in.

It bothered Gwyneth to hear a woman
demean her husband. It was unfitting and didn’t help the woman’s
own status. Still, she laughed, too.

Egil’s cousin, Thorgils, lived near him.
The two men sometimes worked their fields together and cooperated
as good friends do. Thorgils was a widower. His son, Ljot, was a
good friend of Egil’s son, Styr, and he often stayed at Egil’s
farm. Sometimes Gunnora would travel to Thorgils’ farm to direct
the slave women in their tasks.

One spring, Gunnora was tugging winter
wool from Thorgils’ sheep when Thorgils came into the shed behind
her. Gunnora had taken off her apron to work and wore only her
shirt and shift and a couple of skirts. She was bent over the sheep
and Thorgils could make out the form of her body under her clothes.
Gunnora felt his eyes upon her and straightened up. She threw her
head back and thrust out her breasts. Thorgils was transfixed and
could not move. Gunnora came over to him and made a remark about
the sheep. She stood next to Thorgils and brushed one breast across
his arm. Thorgils felt the hard nipple stroke his skin like a
finger and he looked down into Gunnora’s face. She looked back up
at him and smiled. Thorgils threw Gunnora down on the straw and
raised her skirts. Gunnora wrapped her arms around him.

The slave women knew what had happened,
of course, and talked among themselves so that knowledge of the
affair spread within the community. Meanwhile, Gunnora kept
visiting Thorgils and, once or twice, he went to her farm. It was
warm now and the lovers could meet outdoors. Now everyone knew
about them and, soon enough, Egil caught a hint of the affair from
a neighbor.

Egil was uncertain if anything was
really going on or not. He tossed and turned that night until
Gunnora swore at him to be still. Then he lay still as a rock in
the bed chamber with a cold pain eating into his guts.

Egil decided not to confront Gunnora.
The next time she left the house, he followed her at a distance.
Gunnora and Thorgils had a favorite place where they met, a grassy
hollow among the rocks. They had stored some fleeces there that
they spread on the ground. So Egil came upon them, embracing there
in the place they had made. He shouted in horror to see his fears
were true.

Thorgils sprang to his feet and began
stammering. The two cousins faced each other, neither able to
speak. Gunnora lay back on the fleece, watching the two men choke
and mumble, then she pulled her shift over her naked breasts, got
dressed, and walked away.

Gunnora was sitting on her woman’s
platform, spinning, when Egil returned. He walked up to her.
“Well?” he said.

Gunnora shrugged. “Well, what?” She went
on spinning.

“You were lying with Thorgils!”

“Yes. So what?”

Egil’s birthmark blazed like a fire.
“You filthy whore! Get out of my house!”

“Well,” said Gunnora, “As to that, this
is my house. Our marriage agreement said that, should we dissolve
our marriage, I would remain here, with our children.”

Egil’s head rocked as though he had
taken a blow. Like most couples, he and Gunnora had a marriage
agreement that spelled out what property each brought to the
marriage and could take back after divorce. Egil and Gunnora’s
terms were that, if there were children, then Gunnora would keep
the house and half the farm’s output until she remarried and moved
to her new husband’s place. The property itself would still be
owned by Egil and it was intended that any children of the union
would live there and inherit. They had only the one child, Styr,
who was almost five now. Egil thought what it would mean for him to
have to work the farm and only keep half the income. Gunnora
watched him through lidded eyes, a half smile on her lips. Then she
came down off the platform and put her arms around Egil.

“Why worry over this little thing?” she
said. “It is you that I love.” She stroked him and whispered to him
and suggested they lie in the bed chamber.

But Egil could only see her nakedness
under his cousin’s body. He pushed Gunnora away.

“All right then,” she spat, “Be a fool!
Be a worm! You certainly aren’t a man!”

Then Egil knew there was only one thing
he could do. He walked out of the house and into a turf hut where
tools were kept. He picked up an axe and walked away across the
fields to Thorgils’ farm.

Thorgils was in the main hall, sitting
on a bench near the firepit. A spear lay beside him. He leapt up
when Egil walked in. “Oh, no,” he groaned, when he saw the axe,
“This cannot be!”

“Yes,” said Egil, “This is the only
way.”

“I swear I will never touch Gunnora
again!”

Egil shook his head. “I could never
trust you or her again. One of us may have her but not both.
Anyway,” he said, “I believe you have already come to that way of
thinking.” He gestured at the spear lying close to Thorgils’
hand.

Thorgils shook his head but Egil rushed
at him, axe held high over head. Thorgils grabbed the spear and
raised it. Egil caught the spearpoint in his belly. It pierced deep
inside because Egil rushed forward against it until he was close
enough to bring the axe down on Thorgils’ skull, splashing the
man’s brains against the wall. Then Egil fell back on the floor. It
took him a little while to die. He stared at his cousin’s body the
whole time. The house slaves were afraid to come into the hall so
Egil died without anyone knowing his last thoughts.

The women went to see Gunnora. “Your
husband is dead.”

Gunnora shrugged. “It won’t be the last
time I’m married.”

Gwyneth thought that was probably true.
Gunnora was still young and had her looks. Until her son was old
enough to run the farm, she had its income. And she had all of the
money she and Egil had accumulated during their marriage. Probably,
thought Gwyneth, she could use the same dowry all over again.
Perhaps someone who needed a wife would take over Thorgils’ farm.
Wouldn’t that be convenient, thought Gwyneth. She watched as
Gunnora preened before the other women and felt bile gather in her
throat.

“At least,” said Gunnora, “Egil died
with honor.” And some of the women agreed that this was a good
thing. Gwyneth held her tongue.

That night, in her bed chamber, Gwyneth
rolled over and hugged Colm’s body to her. She held him so tightly
that she hurt him. Colm was surprised. He put his arms around
Gwyneth and embraced her as he wondered what fierce storm of
feeling was rocking her. But he had given up any hope of ever
understanding that.

11.The Crossfield

The Crossfield stood in the west of
Iceland. Many of the first settlers were Christian, especially
those from Ireland and Britain, and they raised crosses on a flat
meadow near Thordarholt above the seacliffs. Some of the crosses
were large and meant as monuments to the faith, others were small,
placed there by supplicants who prayed for abundant harvests or
good health or another child. But there were no priests in Iceland
then, and no church organization. The next generation fell away
from their parents’ faith into paganism. The Crossfield was
abandoned. People said it was an unlucky place and avoided it now,
even if that meant walking through the marshy lowland rather than
the grassy meadow.

The body of An Twist-Limb lay in the
Crossfield for a long time before it was discovered. People counted
back and no one could remember seeing An more recently than the
Winter Sacrifice and now it was spring. The body was identified by
some of the remnants of clothing that clung to it, and by a belt
buckle in the shape of a dragon’s head that An always wore, and by
its bent limbs. An had become more and more crippled over time. His
arms had drawn in against his chest and his hands bent inward so
that his fingers almost touched his wrists. An’s legs were
affected, too, and he walked with a strange waddle, his knees
almost touching and his legs bent.

Geirrid, Colm’s son, discovered the
body. He had been out with his friends, Orm, Ketil-Treefoot’s son,
and Frosti Bragason. The boys had dared one another to walk through
the Crossfield. Geirrid was half expecting to run into a ghost when
he stumbled across An’s corpse. The gaping jaw and empty
eye-sockets shocked Geirrid and he gave an involuntary shout. The
other boys shouted back, ready to run. Geirrid took hold of
himself; he had seen a dead body before. “Come see what I have
found!”

Orm and Frosti ran up and Geirrid
grinned to see them recoil at the sight. “It’s only a dead man,” he
said, acting cool and calm. “You needn’t act so frightened.”

“I’ve seen dead men before,” snapped
Frosti, “As has anyone who’s attended a funeral. But this one is
quite a sight!”

Orm said, “We should go tell someone so
that the man may be properly buried and not walk around and hurt
us.” The boys did not run away from the Crossfield but they did not
tarry, either.

Colm and some others examined the body.
There were no signs of violence and most thought that An had gotten
lost one night and died of exposure. Since few people ever went
through the Crossfield, his body had escaped detection until now.
But some others believed that An had been struck down by elves
because he trespassed on forbidden land.

They buried An’s body near
Ketil-Treefoot’s farm. Right away the hauntings started. A slave
reported seeing An walking about in the fields. He went closer and
An sank into the earth. Then others claimed to have seen An walking
about as well. Soon slaves and farmhands refused to work in certain
places on Ketil’s farm.

Ketil decided that he could not put up
with this and dug up An’s body. Then he and some other men pitched
the corpse into the sea.

Not long after, some men who were out
fishing reported that they had seen a strange seal, one with eyes
like a human, that had followed their boat and watched them all the
time they were on the water. A great storm blew in that night. The
next day, Ketil-Treefoot and Orm Ketilsson were walking the
shoreline, looking for driftwood, when they found An’s body that
had washed up on the beach.

“He is following me!” said Orm. His
father turned very pale but said nothing.

Men decided that this was a serious
matter. They sewed up An’s corpse in a sealskin shroud and buried
it in an out of the way place. Then they rolled a huge boulder on
top so that he could not walk.

A few days after An was re-buried,
Geirrid came to his father. “I fear the walking dead.” He hung his
head, ashamed to admit his fear, but he was shaking, so afraid of
haunts that he abandoned dignity.

Colm took his son by the shoulders and
told him, “There will be no more walking dead. They are sealed in
their graves.”

Geirrid looked him directly in the eye.
“Do you swear it?”

“I swear it.”

“Swear by your charm, the one you wear
about your neck.”

Colm was puzzled. “You mean this?” He
pulled the counterfeit silver penny from his shirt. He had punched
a hole in it and hung it around his neck after he got back from
raiding. “This is no sacred charm. It is a reminder that there are
untrue things in this world.” He let Geirrid hold the coin as he
explained false metal. He brought a real penny from his hoard and
showed the boy how much thinner it was than the counterfeit, which
was a lesser metal silvered with mercury. He showed Geirrid how to
bend a coin between his fingers so that a crease formed that
allowed examination of the metal inside. He brought out a set of
scales and demonstrated how to weigh one coin against another.

Geirrid took a great interest in
everything Colm told him. He calmed down and asked intelligent
questions. Colm was pleased to see this, for he was concerned about
Geirrid – the boy often seemed uninterested or distracted and Colm
was afraid that he had no grip. So father and son parted, both
feeling better about the world than when they began talking. This
lasted several days.