The Saga of Colm the Slave (27 page)

Everyone was silent for a while,
thinking of Eystein’s ordeal. Time to get it out, thought Colm.
“Your farm is not as you left it,” he said.

“How is that?” said Eystein.

“Well, after your father was killed by
the berserk, your mother took up with a man named Mar. They never
married, but on her death-bed she gave over the farm to him and to
a girl she helped raise, our foster-daughter, Thurid. Thurid is
there now with her mother, Groa, who has married Mar.”

Eystein stared into his cup. “I see.
What sort of man is this Mar?”

“He is a good farmer,” said Colm. “The
farm is doing well.”

“He is a good man,” said Gwyneth. “He
was good to your mother and they loved one another very much.”

“I see,” said Eystein again. “Well, I
don’t mean to cause trouble, but I think I should be able to live
there.”

“Let me speak to Mar and see what can be
arranged. In the meantime, stay here with me.”

Eystein sat with lowered head. He slowly
nodded. “All right. I will leave this to you, Colm.” He lifted his
eyes to Colm’s face. “Do right by me, I beg you.” And Colm agreed
that he would.

Mar glowered at Colm. Groa sat with her
mouth pressed into a hard line. Mar said, “You promised me certain
things.”

“And I mean to keep my promise,” said
Colm. “This farm is yours so long as you live and goes to Thurid
when you die. All I ask is that you show a little consideration for
this man’s plight.”

“Consideration! Pah! This man spent
years murdering farmers like me! Now he wants consideration?” Mar
was shouting again.

Colm decided to take a harder line.
“Many a farmer in Iceland got his start by raiding. I myself have
gone raiding. There can be no judgement on this now.” He looked
into Mar’s eyes. “Meanwhile, here is a man who comes home to find
his mother dead and her farm in the hands of strangers. Yes, I ask
for consideration.” Colm drew a breath, took a quieter tone. “This
man has no family, no resources, but he is part of this community
even so.”

Mar grumbled, then asked, “What do you
want me to do?” Groa shot an angry glance at her husband. She had
come into freedom and property by a stroke of fortune, now she saw
the possibility of it disappearing.

“First, I say again that I personally
guarantee your ownership of this farm. No one, including Eystein,
will take it from you.” Colm waited until Mar nodded. “Now, I ask
that you make a place for him here. He will work and earn his keep.
But he needs a higher status than simply that of a farmhand. You
must accept him as part of this farm.”

“Why not you?” spat Groa. “Give him part
of your farm!”

“I don’t ask that you give this man
anything except some respect. He will work to pay his board and
lodging. He has a connection to this farm and ought to be able to
live here without being made to feel that he is a charity case.”
Which is what he would be, if he lived with Colm. Even so, if Mar
and Groa remained adamant, Colm saw that he would have to take
Eystein in. “Here he has a certain place and I ask that you
recognize it.”

Mar and Groa continued to argue but Colm
sensed that they had begun to weaken. Finally, a few hours later,
Mar said, “Well, bring this man by and we will see if we can live
with him.” Groa remained silent, arms crossed over her chest. Colm
resolved to find some extra gift for Groa besides those he had
already brought over from the Trollfarm for her and Mar.

Eystein was nervous and apprehensive on
the way over to his mother’s old farm. Colm wondered if Mar and
Groa would see Eystein the way that he did: a man grown old, his
bravado gone with the hair on top his head. Show him mercy, he
thought, but don’t break his heart by pitying him. Then he recalled
Eystein in Frisia, more than twenty years past, and how little
mercy he had for those he attacked. Eystein had shown no mercy in
his life; he probably expected none now.

Mar greeted them with open palms. They
went inside and Groa served them skyr. She kept silent as she did
so. The men sat and talked about the weather and such. After a
time, Eystein remarked that the house seemed in very good shape.
“You must have done a lot of work on it,” he told Mar.

“Well, yes, a bit. The roof gave us a
bit of a problem there.” Mar pointed to a certain point. “It leaked
so much that the dwarf began to rot. The ridge-pole stayed solid,
though.” The posts that rested on the cross-beams and supported the
ridge-pole were called dwarves, after the dwarves who support the
vault of heaven. Mar launched into a lengthy description of how the
ridge-pole had to be supported while the roof was rebuilt around
that spot. Slaves were hoisted on ropes up to the rafters and
rebuilt the area under the sod.

“That was ingenious,” said Eystein.
“Many would have just torn the whole thing down and started
over.”

“That seemed a waste to me,” said Mar,
“A waste of time and materials.”

“Well, it was well-done,” said Eystein.
“I know that place leaked when I was a boy. My father always said
he would do something about it, but he never did.” He was silent
for a moment, recalling Magnus. “My father sometimes spoke of more
than he could accomplish.” Colm recalled the tongueless head
staring from the grass near Svart’s sauna.

“Well,” said Mar, “Sometimes we grow to
ignore the flaws in things around us. They become familiar and even
a faulty roof seems an old companion.”

Eystein flashed a smile. “Yes. So it is,
sometimes.”

Colm caught the kindness in Mar’s
softened speech and thought that his task of settling Eystein might
succeed after all.

Eystein waved a hand at the benches.
“This all seems well cared for.”

“Some boards have been replaced, but
they are mostly the ones you remember, just grown smoother over the
years.” At one end of the benches sat a bed-closet. It had been the
place where Eystein’s parents had slept; now Mar and Groa used it.
Mar said, “We need to put up a bed-closet for you.”

“I can sleep on the bench,” said
Eystein.

“No,” said Mar, “You are neither a guest
nor a farmhand. You shall have your own place.”

Eystein looked down and nodded. “Thank
you.” His voice was thick. Groa brought him more skyr and smiled as
she dished it out. Colm felt great relief.

Mar said, “Where are your weapons?”

“I have none left. I traded my sword for
food on the way back to Iceland. If the place needs defending,
perhaps you will loan me an axe.”

“Of course. I will gladly give you
one.”

Colm thought this the proper time to say
to Eystein, “You are under my protection now. Any man who harms you
becomes my enemy.” He thought that message would be understood by
all who heard it. Mar nodded. Then Colm said, “There is a place in
my roof that also leaks and has for years. Perhaps someone from
your farm can take a look and tell me what needs to be done.”

“Of course,” smiled Mar. They all parted
on good terms.

22. Geirrid’s Travels

In the evenings, Geirrid told his
parents tales of the places he had seen. He had travelled as far
east as Kurland. He had wanted to go on to Novgorod the Great and
perhaps then south to Miklagard in Greekland, the greatest city in
the world, but that had to wait for another voyage. Geirrid enjoyed
travel, he said, and seeing strange places and people. He told of
the Finnish wooden shrines built like small houses for their
land-spirits to live in and the outdoor temples the Slavs built for
their terrible four-headed god. He told Gwyneth of the distaffs
built into seats that were used by women across the Baltic and he
told Colm of the North Finns who farmed reindeer instead of sheep
and milked them like cattle. He had seen sea monsters, too, great
whales and huge fish and a giant thing, longer than his ship, whose
head was a mass of writhing snakes. And he spoke of things he had
not seen but had only heard about from other travellers. He spoke
of these things with such relish that Colm understood his son meant
to leave Iceland and go trading once again. Tentatively, he
mentioned Greenland, where Eric the Red had started a settlement.
Geirrid shook his head. “This is as close to the edge of the world
as I ever want to be. I mean to go to its center, the place that is
the pivot for all the people and activity that there is!”

Gwyneth had stopped spinning. She sat
with lowered head. She had hoped her son would stay close by and
not go sailing off again. Colm said, “At least you’ll stay the
winter with us?” It was a question, not a statement.

Geirrid smiled and it seemed to Colm as
though his son wore a mask of skin over his own face, a trader’s
mask that might smile and dissemble as it gulled a customer. “We’ll
see,” said Geirrid.

“Well, is it safe, then, for me to
attend this horsefight?” Geirrid smiled at his father and Colm
wondered what he was thinking.

“Yes. All that is past now. Orm and
Marta have a child and another on the way, I think, but your mother
would know for sure. Frosti realizes that he had no chance with
her. So there is no harsh feeling there.”

“Ah, good,” said Geirrid, “Then I think
I will attend.”

“It may or may not be a good match,”
said Colm. He told Geirrid of the fight between Gryr and
Raven’s-Mane. “The horse is still a champion fighter but has never
really recovered from that battle.”

“You think he may die in the fight?”

“If Adals goes with him into the ring,
Raven’s-Mane will fight until he wins or dies. Adals has put
everything on this match.”

“As he did before.”

“Yes, and then he won. But if Frosti
manages the horse, he will stop the match and take a loss rather
than see Raven’s-Mane die.”

“Well, I’ll remember that before I
bet.”

For a moment, Colm regretted telling
Geirrid what he knew. Then he thought, what of it, this was common
knowledge. Many would be watching to see who entered the ring with
Raven’s-Mane.

The two men were silent for a moment.
They were sitting in an out-building where Colm had pretended to
find a chore for the two of them. In fact, he had only wanted to
talk. Though the doorway he could see the bright day outside and
seed-wool drifting through the sunlight white as snowflakes. A
thought struck Colm. “Did you trade for Eystein’s sword?”

Geirrid shrugged. “He insisted that I
take it when we reached Iceland, in exchange for feeding him. I
didn’t want to, but he is a proud man...” Geirrid suddenly looked
up at his father. “You think I took it from him! Took an old man’s
last possession when he was in need! Eystein was a great help to
me! I told him there was no need for payment! I would sail with him
any day! He...he...” The trader’s mask slipped from Geirrid’s face
and his mouth twisted in pain. “You’ve never thought I was any
good! You’ve always thought I was a cheat and a sneak and...”

“No! No! I always... I wanted...”

“So you brought in Gudbrand to be your
son! To be the one you wanted!”

“Oh, no! Geirrid, I had no choice! I had
to foster him! And I never wanted to show him favoritism but I
could not risk Bjorn’s displeasure.”

“So you bartered me to better yourself!”
Geirrid’s expression had melted into one of great hurt and Colm saw
him now as he had been as a child. He recognized Geirrid’s
expression and knew that he must have seen it before, more than
once, to find it now so familiar.

“Oh, Geirrid, stay with us now! I will
buy a farm for you...”

“And I would live my days always under
your gaze! Always in judgement!” Geirrid dropped his eyes. When he
raised his face, he wore the trader’s mask once more. “But I do
appreciate the offer, Father. It is quite generous.” He gave Colm a
wide, bright smile.

Colm was speechless. He felt as though
an iron spike had been driven through his heart. Geirrid stood up
to go. Thurid ran past the doorway, shouting in the sunshine,
drifting seed-wool shining about her. “It is good that Mother has
found a child like that,” said Geirrid, “One that can gladden her
heart and make her feel happy.” His smile was bright but his eyes
were cold.

23. Raven’s-Mane Fights Again

Everyone from the community and some
from neighboring areas came to see the horsefight. Raven’s-Mane had
achieved some fame and many wanted to watch him fight. Some people
called him Wolf-Biter but they kept that from anyone who wanted to
wager against the horse. This time, three horses had been brought
to meet him, one match after another. No one doubted that
Raven’s-Mane could defeat any of the three other stallions, but
there was some question that he could beat three in a single
afternoon.

Colm surveyed the crowd. Everyone was
dressed in their best, most colorful clothes. The men swaggered,
the women preened. The sun was high and hot and the air smelled of
sweat.

Thorolf came over to Colm. Hallvard
walked a little behind him. The three men exchanged greetings.
“Will there be trouble?” asked Thorolf.

“No,” said Colm, “Not that I can tell.”
He could not see either Geirrid or Frosti but thought that there
would be no problems between them.

Thorolf nodded. “Good. Although there is
always a chance that things turn violent at an event like this.” He
went off to make his rounds, Hallvard at his heels, greeting this
man and that, making certain that no one felt snubbed by his
godi.

A shout went up from the crowd as the
mare was brought into the ring. Then Raven’s-Mane’s first opponent
was led around for everyone to examine. The stallion’s nostrils
flared as he passed the mare and people laughed, for they knew that
this horse had little chance of mounting her this day.

“Good day, Colm.” Frosti was there
beside him.

“Ah, Frosti, I thought you might be
managing Raven’s-Mane today.”