Part 3

“A Vilgerdson!” the old man exclaimed, “and from Rogaland! We must be cousins, however distant. In my long life I have never known or heard of any Norwegian Vilgerdsons; as far as my knowledge goes our family has long been wholly Icelandic. We are descended from Floki Vilgerdson, of Rogaland, the first voyager who ever wintered in Iceland. A hundred and thirty-six years ago he sailed past the headlands of Faxafloi and wintered in the Breidifiord. But he and his associates were so carried away by the abundance of fish and the ease of catching them that they neglected to cure enough hay and their live-stock all perished. Therefore he sailed home next spring. But, twenty and more years later, when past middle age, after most of the west and north of Iceland had already been settled, Floki returned and chose a home here in the east on this very spot. I am his great-great-great-grandson and heir to him and all his.”

“I,” said Thorkell, “am great-great-great-great-grandson to Snorri Vilgerdson, younger brother to Floki the Viking and settler. For both were sons of Vilgerd Vilgerdson of Rogaland.”

“Then,” said his host, “you are a fourth cousin to my children and they are your fourth cousins. You are one of us. And now tell me your story.”

When Thorkell had said his say and had answered all his host’s questions the old man said:

“My wife opines that it will now benefit you to be out of bed and in the open air. My younger sons, Thorgils and Thorbrand, will help you to dress and will assist you to walk about, for, although you may resent the suggestion, you are not yet strong enough for it to be well for you to attempt walking unassisted.”

And he called his sons, handsome youths, who clasped hands with Thorkell, called him “cousin” after their father’s explanation, and, when the old man had gone out, assisted him to rise. He found he needed assistance. They helped him to don a shirt of the finest linen, knitted hose of soft wool, noblemen’s shoes, a doublet of the best woolen cloth, and a fine crimson mantle of wool delightful to feel and handle. They girded him with an outer belt, but there was no sign of sword-belt, sword, poniard or knife. Each of them wore a belt-knife with a staghorn heft, and a dagger and sword, with steel guards and hilts of walrus ivory, pommelled with gold.

One on each side of him they supported him as he strove to stand and they guided him through the doorway into a spacious, plank-floored, high-raftered hall, lighted by many small windows placed high up in the tall gable-ends; low, narrow doors were all down both long sides, with an ample fireplace in a big chimney-piece midway of one side; at one end was the main doorway, at the other a door almost as large. His helpers conducted him out through the main doorway and to a bench in the sunlight where they seated him. Thorbrand sat by him, Thorgils walked away.

Thorkell found the cool, soft breeze invigorating and yet mild, for it was near midsummer and as genial as it ever is in Iceland. The slant sunrays warmed him. He basked and gazed about him. He saw close by a strongly built storehouse of stone and great ash beams, high-gabled, though its roof was not as steep and tall as that of the mansion. Further away he made out a big sheepfold, with sheds, a large cattle-byre, an ample stable and two very large barns. In whatever direction he looked the extensive level space in which the buildings were grouped was bounded by a stone wall, breast-high, and not of boulders, but of roughly squared blocks.

Some two hundred yards or more distant, topping a low hill, was a temple; for, with its great size, its high and steep roof, its scalloped shingles, its horse-head and fish-tail ornaments at the ridge-pole ends and eave-ends, its carven gable-ends, it could be nothing else.

Some of the thralls were busy about the buildings and several maid-servants passed in and out. Thorkell saw no men-at-arms, nor any of the family except the two brothers. Thorbrand sat smiling, but mute. Thorkell kept mute and basked. After a time Thorgils came back and Thorbrand strolled away. When Thorbrand returned he said:

“Mother thinks that you were best back in your bed.”

Thorkell acquiesced and suffered himself to be escorted indoors. In bed he ate some food brought by a tow-headed serving-maid. Soon he slept.

He woke near dusk of the long northern day and again ate what the same maid brought him and was again soon asleep.

Next morning Thorstein was again sitting by him when he woke. As before he enquired how he felt and himself served him with food and drink. When he had reset the tray on the table and reseated himself he said:

“Young man, I and my family have talked over you and your story. I and my daughter and my nieces believe you. But all five of my sons, my two daughters-in-law, my accountant, my seneschal, my skald and everyone of my men-at-arms are convinced that you are not a castaway from any ship, though likely enough a Norwegian and no Icelander. They are unanimously of the opinion that you are a spy craftily insinuated into our community by our enemies. They point out that your clothing was dry when you were carried in here: that neither it nor your hair showed any signs of your having been swimming; that such a marvel as your having leapt ashore from a ship’s-boat drifting without sail, oars or rudder is too improbable for them to believe it other than a clumsy invention. They all insist that I would imperil myself and all my household if I were to accept your story and keep you here as a guest. My word is law here, but I feel that it would be unwise for me to disregard so unanimous, so insistent and so clamorous a dissent from my views.

“Now, young man, if you have in fact been sent here by the Miofifirthers or the Seydisfirthers you had best admit it at once and make a clean breast of the whole matter. You shall not be harmed in any way. I will have you fed and cared for until you are fit for a short journey, and then I will equip you with flint and steel, a belt-knife, a dagger, a sword and sword-belt, a horseman’s cloak, a good horse, well bitted, saddled and girthed, and a supply of food; and I will send a thrall to guide you round the head of Revdarfiord and to speed you on your way. But if you are what you assert you are and claim our protection and hospitality as the dues of a castaway, you must convince all my household of the truth of your tale.”

“I am Thorkell Vilgerdson of Rogaland in Norway,” he replied. “I know nothing of any Miofifirthers or Seydisfirthers or of any foes of yours. I never set foot on Iceland until I leapt ashore from my drifting boat soon after sunrise of the morning on which I encountered your daughter and nieces. I have never, in Iceland, set eyes on any Icelanders except members of your household. What I have told you is true in every particular. But how may I convince you of its truth?”

“As you must know from my name and my sons’ names,” Thorstein answered, “we are steadfast adherents of the old faith. Those who suspect you, and my wife, the most embittered of those against you, in particular, would be at once convinced if you take formal oath to the truth of your statements, an oath sworn upon your own blood and the sacred ring of our holy temple, calling Thor and Odin to witness. If you are willing to take oath, as I suggest, no one here will any longer doubt you.”

“I am entirely willing,” Thorkell declared. “I am more than willing, I am eager. The suspicions of your household are natural, if you have crafty enemies near at hand and live under threat of being raided. I will swear as you suggest.”

“I infer,” said Thorstein, “that you also, then, like all here at Hofstadir, are a firm believer in the gods of our fathers.”

“I am indeed,” Thorkell affirmed.

“Have you met Christians?” his host queried.

“Too many,” said Thorkell, “too many by far.”

“Have you talked with any about their beliefs?” the old man inquired.

“With many,” Thorkell said.

“And what do you think of them?” Thorstein pressed him.

“It seems to me,” said Thorkell, “that they claim to have a system of sorcery and magic far more efficacious and far cheaper than ours. That is about all I can gather from their talk. Their religion costs far less than ours because they hold that no blood-sacrifices are necessary, stating that one man, hundreds of years ago, achieved one sacrifice by which all men may benefit forever, no other being required after that one. How this could be or can be I cannot conceive. But such appears to be their view. Then they seem to think that priests can be largely dispensed with: certainly they have far fewer than we and their priests are cheaper to maintain than ours, as they require less in the way of ornaments, raiment, food and servants. Then, though no one of them has conveyed to me what they mean, they all allege that their invocations win surer and more effective responses than those which we receive from our deities. That is all I can make out about their novelties.”

“Your impressions,” Thorstein said, “tally with mine. Christians are utterly incomprehensible to me. In particular, they all rant about peace on earth and good-will to men. Yet, since they became Christians, the Miofifirthers and the Seydisfirthers are just as implacably hostile to us here as before. My father repeatedly made overtures to them proposing conferences to negotiate for a reconciliation, for mutual concessions, for laying our differences and the damage done to each side before the Althing for reference to the courts and for a decision and settlement, for a termination of the feud and the establishment of harmony and amity. I have made similar proffers. But they have been inexorably hostile. In fact, since they became Christians, they seem, if possible, even more ferocious, rancorous and blood-thirsty than before.”

“That,” said Thorkell, “is just about the attitude towards us heathen of all the Christians I have ever met or heard of. Their idea of peace is unqualified submission or total extermination for us, and complete triumph and unquestioned domination for themselves. Not one will listen to proposals of compromise, accommodation or mutual forbearance. They seem to me opinionated, bigoted, fanatical, overbearing and arrogant. We must fight or perish, there appears to be no other way.”

“You speak sensibly, my son, it seems to me,” the old man said. “You have convinced me that you are sincere. Your oath in the temple will convince all my household and all my retainers.”

Then he rose and went out.

III

Again Thorgils and Thorbrand entered the bedroom and helped Thorkill to dress. This time he needed little assistance. And this time they girt him with a sword-belt, and equipped him with a handy belt-knife, a fine dagger and a sword in a decorated scabbard. Out they escorted him, Thorkell now walking easily and unaided. In the open he found awaiting him Thorstein, his three elder sons, Thorfinn, Thorgeir and Thord; a handsome and very blond young giant who was presented to him as “Finnvard Sigurdson, of Faskrudsfiord, my future son-in-law,” Thorstein’s house-skald, Olmod Borkson; and his seneschal, Ari Gormson. There were a score of men-at-arms lounging about.

After the presentations they set off towards the temple, Thorstein linking arms with Thorkell and leading the way.

“I myself,” he said, “am Gothi of this temple, which my grandfather, Thorleif Vilgerdson, built with timber fetched from Norway.”

The temple, Thorkell judged, was a full hundred feet long. Temple fashion the end under the gable which they approached was doorless. The side-wall had two ample doorways, each near an end. They passed in by that nearest them towards the right end of the side-wall, and turned to their left. In behind them straggled the men-at-arms, who had trooped after them. Thorkell could feel the reverential awe with which the great, hulking, burly, truculent spearmen entered the holy place. Midway of the opposite long-wall they passed the High-Seat, between the tall pillars, each with its three consecrated bolts of gilded bronze. They were visible even in the dim light afforded by the small latticed windows, gut-paned, high up in the gable ends. Towards the end of the temple they entered the oval, defined by a ring of thin slabs of stone set on edge. Inside the oval, near the end of it towards the further gable of the building, was an altar of the customary form, a great thick slab of dressed stone, full three ells square, supported by four stone posts, squared, carved with runes, and set deep in the beaten earth floor. The slab of the altar was also carved with runes. On it lay the great holy ring, of solid silver, weighing full thirty pounds.

Thorstein lifted the great ring and slid it up his right arm to the shoulder. There Thorfinn tied it with a crimson wool ribbon, slipped under his father’s left arm-pit and crossed on his left shoulder; so that the ring would not slide down the arm. Then, standing on Thorstein’s right, Thorkell unsheathed his dagger and with its point lightly slashed the back of his left hand, tilting it till the dagger-blade ran with blood. Then, placing his left hand on the temple-ring and holding the dagger point down over the center of the altar, he swore:

“As my blood drips upon this altar from the point of this dirk, so may my blood and the heart’s blood of all my kin, of any wife I may wed, of any children I may have, of all those dear to me, be spilt upon the earth, if my oath is not truthful. I swear by my own blood, by the holy ring which I grasp, by this altar, by the pillars of the High Seat, by their sacred bolts, before Thor and Odin, that I am Thorkell Vilgerdson of Rogaland in Norway, and that I am newly castaway on the coast of Iceland and have never, in Iceland, seen or spoken with any Icelander excepting dwellers here at Hofstadir.

“If my oath is false may my heart’s blood and the blood of all those dear to me be spilt upon the earth as my blood now drips from the point of my dirk. Before Odin and Thor I have sworn.”

Thereafter Thorfinn removed the Gothi’s ring from his father’s arm and he and Thorstein laid it in its place midway of the altar-slab.

Outside the temple Thorgils dressed the slash on the back of Thorkell’s left hand. Then Thorstein first and after him his sons in the order of their ages, clasped hands with Thorkell, each uttering the formula:

“You are our dear and trusted cousin.”

Finnvard followed. Then Ari, Olmod and the men-at-arms saluted Thorkell, crying:

“We are brothers in arms.”

From the temple Thorstein led Thorkell into the storehouse and into that part of it which was used as an armory.

“Look over these weapons,” he said, “and select a sword, poniard and belt-knife to your mind. Try first those you now have; if they suit you, keep them. But be sure that the balance of the sword is precisely what you prefer and that you are armed as you desire.”

Outside, in the mild sunshine of a day unusually mellow for Iceland, they sat on the benches flanking the doorway and chatted until after midday. Then Thorstein cautioned Thorkell that a man who had been exposed and exhausted as he had had best lie down an hour or so before his first heavy meal after his privations.

When Thorgils wakened and summoned him he found in the great hall a numerous assemblage. He was presented by Thorstein to Thorkatla his wife, to his daughter Thorgerd and his two nieces Thorarna and Thordis, whom he had encountered on the beach. Thorarna was the tall, full-contoured, black-tressed beauty, and Thordis the exquisite blonde whom he had thought the most beautiful of the three. Thorfinn’s wife Arnora and Thord’s wife Valdis were personable young women.

Thorstein occupied the High Seat, facing the fireplace. To the left and right of him sat his family, on benches ranged along that side of the hall, but far enough from the wall to leave space for anyone to walk behind them and to pass in or out of any door. On the opposite side of the hall, flanking the chimney-piece, was a similar row of benches, occupied by the men-at-arms, more than forty together. Towards the ends of the hall sat such dependents and thralls as were not busy serving the feast. The servitors carried in more than eighty light, collapsible tables, each in three parts, a square top and two trestles. One was placed before each diner. The fare was varied and abundant, but notably characteristic of Iceland. There were unlimited supplies of fresh whey in jars, pitchers and bowls; bowls of curd; platters heaped with slices of cheese, both new and aged; there was even an overabundance of smoked and fresh fish, cooked in every known manner; plenty of tender fat mutton, beef and veal, and, each borne in by two brawny thralls, two great platters, one piled with convenient cuts of stewed horseflesh, the other with similar collops of horseflesh roasted. There was a moderate supply of manchets of excellent rye, barley and wheaten bread, handed along in smallish flat osier baskets or on similar trays. Maids continually passed and repassed proffering basins of warm water and towels; for, in those days, forks were unknown, and, besides plates and spoons of beechwood from Norway and belt knives, fingers were the only table implements, and frequent washing of the hands was necessary for comfort.

Thorgils and Thorbrand, between whom Thorkell sat, plied him with offerings of every viand brought in and saw that his goblet was kept full of well-aged, fragrant mead. Even more than the large household and lavish fare Thorkill was impressed by the chimney-piece, which faced him on his left, and by its fireplace, not aglow with smouldering peat, but ablaze with a generous heap of crackling driftwood. He commented on this to Thorbrand.

“I have never seen any other chimney or fireplace except ours,” was his reply. “It is said that two halls in the river-valleys about Faxafloi have chimney fireplaces, and that there is another in a mansion on Breidifiord. But none of us have seen any. My great grandfather had this built of native stone, for there is much fire-resisting rock on our island.”

“This,” Thorkell said, “is the only chimney fireplace I have myself ever seen. My home, like every other hall I have ever entered till now, has only a fireplace midway of its floor, so that the smoke blackens the rafters before it finds the hole in the roof.”

After the feast Thorstein called for silence.

“We have with us,” he said, “what is almost as good as a visiting skald, a guest who has had marvellous adventures. All of us will now listen to Thorkell Vilgerdson of Rogaland in Norway, if he will be so good as to accede to my request that he tell us of his dangers and of his escape.”

Thorkell blushed, but was encouraged by the smiling, eager faces turned towards him. He took courage, stood up, and told his tale, haltingly at first, later more fluently.

After he had finished and sat down Olmod twanged his harp and recited a drapa describing and praising the exploits of Floki Vilgerdson the viking and settler. When he ceased the company dispersed to bed.

During the ensuing days Thorkell became well acquainted with Hofstadir, its denizens and its neighborhood. As soon as he felt his full strength and vigor return he spent his mornings with Thorgir, Thorbrand, Thorgils and Finnvard at fencing, target practice with spears or arrows, wrestling, and other such manly exercises. At all of these he excelled, yet his genial demeanor was so winsome that his easy victories gave no offence to his companions.

They also went swimming together, and fishing, both in the many nearby streams, and offshore in a very handy small boat, heavily built, blunt bowed, yet a good sailor. Thorkell was amazed at the numbers of fish and at the rapidity with which they could be caught. A hook thrown into the water was taken almost at once.

They rode about the neighborhood on fine mounts, for, in those early days, Icelandic horses were still fully equal to Norwegian horses, as the breed was kept up by constant importations of tall, strong, speedy and spirited stallions.

After not many days Thorkell learned the country further afield, for he was invited to accompany Thorstein on a tour of inspection of his district; for he was not only Gothi, that is, priest, of the temple at Hofstadir, but also Gothi, that is, magistrate, of a district called a gothorth, all Iceland being divided into gothorths. Thorstein made his tour attended by his five sons; by several cousins, among whom were Thorlak Vilgerdson of Thelmark and Thorvald Vilgerdson of Husavik; by many thingmen, dependents and yeomen; and by a strong guard of well-horsed spearmen.

Thorkell was much edified by Thorstein’s promptness at settling controversies and redressing grievances. The old man displayed an uncanny intuition and seemed to know all his vassals’ thoughts, motives, wants, desires and needs without being told.

After the tour was over, at a moment when Thorstein was at ease, Thorkell ventured to express his admiration.

His host smiled.

“A chieftain,” he said, “must possess the faculty of seeing into his vassals’ hearts and of knowing their thoughts without question asked and answer given; even without any uttered word. A man who cannot divine the unspoken thoughts of his dependents will not long retain the prestige vital for a Gothi, or for any sort of chieftainship. Necessarily, I know much without being told, with hardly even a glance. Mostly for instance, I can foresee months in advance, sometimes even years in advance, what girl each youth will woo for his wife, what maiden each lad desires, even what lad finds favor in each maiden’s eyes. Such must any chieftain divine.”