.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 48622
   :PG.Title: Grettir the Outlaw
   :PG.Released: 2015-03-31
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: \S. Baring-Gould
   :MARCREL.ill: \M. Zeno Diemer
   :DC.Title: Grettir the Outlaw
              A Story of Iceland
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1889
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

==================
GRETTIR THE OUTLAW
==================

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      Cover art

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   .. _`THORKELL AND THE OUTLAWED GRETTIR LEAVE THE ASSIZE`:

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      :alt: THORKELL AND THE OUTLAWED GRETTIR LEAVE THE ASSIZE.

      THORKELL AND THE OUTLAWED GRETTIR LEAVE THE ASSIZE.

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      Grettir the Outlaw

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      A Story of Iceland

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      by

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      \S. BARING-GOULD

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      Author of "John Herring" "Mehalah" "Iceland: its Scenes and Sagas" &c.

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      *WITH SIX PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY M. ZENO DIEMER*

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      BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
      LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
      1889

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   PREFACE.

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   TO MY YOUNG READERS.

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It is now just thirty years since I first began to read the
"Saga of Grettir the Strong" in Icelandic.  At that time I
had only a Danish grammar of Icelandic and an Icelandic-Danish
dictionary, and I did not know a word of Danish.  So
I had to learn Danish in order to learn Icelandic.

It was laborious work making out the Saga, and every line
when I began took me some time to understand.  Moreover,
I had not much time at my disposal, for then I was a master
in a school.

Now, after I had worked a little way into the Saga, I
became intensely interested in it myself, and it struck me that
my boys whom I taught might like to hear about Grettir.  So
I tried every day to translate, after school hours, a chapter,
hardly ever more at first, and sometimes not even as much
as that.  Then, when on half-holidays I proposed a walk
to some of my scholars, they were keen to hear the story
of Grettir.  Well, Grettir went on for some months in this
way, a fresh instalment of the tale coming every half-holiday,
and it was really wonderful how interested and delighted the
boys were with the story.  Nor was I less so; the labour of
translation which was so great at first became rapidly lighter,
and I was as much interested in the adventures of the hero as
were the boys.  The other day I met an old pupil of mine,
and almost the first thing he said to me was: "Oh! do you
remember Grettir?  Thirty years ago!  Fancy!  I am a
married man and have boys of my own, and I have often tried to
tell them the story which made such an impression on me, but
I cannot remember all the incidents nor their order.  I do
wish you would write it as a story for boys.  I should like to
read it myself again, and my boys would love it."  "Very
well," I said, "I will do so."

Now my boy readers must understand that I have told them
the story in my own words and in my own way.  I went to
Iceland in 1861, and went over nearly every bit of the ground
made famous by the adventures of Grettir.  Consequently, I
am able to help out and illustrate the tale by what I actually
saw.  In the original book there is a great deal more than I
have attempted to retell, but much has to do with the ancestors
of Grettir, and there are other incidents introduced of no
great importance and very confusing to the memory.  So I
have taken the leading points in the story, and given them.

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\S. BARING-GOULD.

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   CONTENTS.

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   CHAP.

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I.  `Winter Tales`_
II.  `How Grettir played on the Ice`_
III.  `Of the Ride to Thingvalla`_
IV.  `The Doom-day`_
V.  `The Voyage`_
VI.  `The Red Rovers`_
VII.  `The Story of the Sword`_
VIII.  `Of the Bear`_
IX.  `The Slaying of Biorn`_
X.  `Of Grettir's Return`_
XI.  `The Horse-fight`_
XII.  `Of the Fight at the Neck`_
XIII.  `How Grettir and Audun made Friends`_
XIV.  `The Vale of Shadows`_
XV.  `How Grettir fought with Glam`_
XVI.  `How Grettir Sailed to Norway`_
XVII.  `The Hostel-burning`_
XVIII.  `The Ordeal by Fire`_
XIX.  `The Winter in Norway`_
XX.  `Of what Befell at Biarg`_
XXI.  `The Return of Grettir`_
XXII.  `The Slaying of Oxmain`_
XXIII.  `At Learwood`_
XXIV.  `The Foster-brothers`_
XXV.  `How Grettir was well nigh Hung`_
XXVI.  `In the Desert`_
XXVII.  `On the Great Eagle Lake`_
XXVIII.  `On the Fell`_
XXIX.  `The Fight on the River`_
XXX.  `A Mysterious Vale`_
XXXI.  `The Death of Hallmund`_
XXXII.  `Of Another Attempt against Grettir`_
XXXIII.  `At Sandheaps`_
XXXIV.  `How Grettir was Driven About`_
XXXV.  `On the Isle`_
XXXVI.  `Of Grettir on Heron-ness`_
XXXVII.  `Of Hœring's Leap`_
XXXVIII.  `Of the Attempt made by Grettir's Friends`_
XXXIX.  `Of the Old Hag`_
XL.  `How the Log came to Drangey`_
XLI.  `The End of the Outlaw`_
XLII.  `How Asdis received the News`_
XLIII.  `How Dromund kept his Word`_

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`Epilogue`_

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   ILLUSTRATIONS.

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`Thorkell and the outlawed Grettir leave the Assize`_, *Frontis*.

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`Grettir challenges Kormak and his Party`_

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`Grettir defends Himself from the Mob`_

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`Grettir attacked in the Rift by Thorir's Party`_

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`Fording the quivering flood`_

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`Illugi defends the dying Grettir`_

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.. _`PEDIGREE OF THE FAMILY OF ASMUND OF BIARG`:

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   :alt: PEDIGREE OF THE FAMILY OF ASMUND OF BIARG

   PEDIGREE OF THE FAMILY OF ASMUND OF BIARG

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.. _`WINTER TALES`:

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   GRETTIR THE OUTLAW.

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   CHAPTER I.

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   WINTER TALES.

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..
   
   *The Birthplace of Grettir—The Peopling of
   Iceland—A History of Quarrels—Stories Round
   the Hearth—Biarg—The Great Blue Bay—The
   Boy Grettir—The Saga of Onund Treefoot—The
   Northern Pirates—The Fight with King
   Harald—Onund's Wound—After the Battle*

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It was night—drawing on to midnight—in
summer, that I who write this book
arrived at the little lonely farm of Biarg,
on the Middle River, in the north of Iceland.
It was night, near on midnight, and yet I could
hardly call it night, for the sky overhead was
full of light of the clearest amethyst, and every
stock and stone was distinctly visible.  Across the
valley rose a rugged moor, and above its shoulder a
snow-clad mountain, turned to rosy gold by the
night sun.  As I stood there watching the mist form
on the cold river in the vale below, all at once I
heard a strange sound like horns blowing far away
in the sky, and looking up, I saw a train of swans
flying from west to east, bathed in sunlight, their
wings of silver, and their feathers as gold.

I had come all the way from England to see Biarg,
for there was born, about the year A.D. 997, a man
called Grettir, whose history I had read, and which
interested me so much that I was resolved to see
his native home, and the principal scenes where his
stormy life was passed.

The landscape was the same as that on which
Grettir's childish eyes had looked more than eight
hundred and fifty years ago.  The same outline of
dreary moor, the same snowy ridge of mountain
standing above it, catching the midnight summer
sun, the same mist forming over the river; but the
house was altogether different.  Now there stood
only a poor heap of farm-buildings, erected of turf
and wood, where had once been a noble hall of
wood, with carved gable-ends, surrounded by many
out-houses.

Before we begin on the story of Grettir, it will be
well to say a few words about its claim to be history.

Iceland never was, and it is not now, a much-peopled
island.  The farmhouses are for the most part
far apart, and the farms are of very considerable
extent, because, owing to the severity of the climate,
very little pasturage is obtained over a wide extent
of country for the sheep and cattle.  The population
lives round the coast, on the fiords or creeks of the
sea, or on the rivers that flow into these fiords.
The centre of the island is occupied by a vast waste
of ice-covered mountain, and desert black as ink
strewn with volcanic ash and sand, or else with a
region of erupted lava that is impassable, because
in cooling it has exploded, and forms a country of
bristling spikes and gulfs and sharp edges, very
much like the wreck of a huge ginger-beer bottle
factory.

What are now farmhouses were the halls and
mansions of families of noble descent.  Indeed, the
original settlers in Iceland were the nobles of
Norway who left their native land to avoid the tyranny
of Harold Fairhair, who tried to crush their power
so as to make himself a despotic king in the land.

These Norse nobles came in their boats to Iceland,
bringing with them their wives, children, their
thralls or slaves, and their cattle; and they settled
all round the coast.  The present Icelanders are
descended from these first colonists.

Now, the history of Iceland for a few hundred
years consists of nothing but the history of the
quarrels of these great families.  Iceland was without
any political organization, but it had an elected
lawman or judge, and every year the heads of the
families rode to Thingvalla, a plain in the south-west,
where they brought their complaints, carried on
their lawsuits, and had them settled by the judge.
There was no army, no navy, no government in
Iceland for a long time; also no foreign wars, and
no internal revolutions.

These noble families settled in the valleys and upon
the fiords thought a good deal of themselves, and
they carefully preserved, at first orally then in
writing, the record of their pedigrees, and also the
tradition of the famous deeds of their great men.

In summer there is no night; in winter, no day.
In winter there is little or nothing to be done but
sit over the fire, sing songs, and tell yarns.  Now,
in winter the Icelanders told the tales of the brave
men of old in their families, and so the tradition
was handed on from father to son, the same stories
told every winter, till all the particulars became
well known.  At the same time there can be no
doubt that little embellishments were added, some
exaggerations were indulged in, and here and there
the grand deed of some other man was grafted into
the story of the family hero.  About two hundred
or two hundred and fifty years after the death of
Grettir, his history was committed to writing, and
then it became fixed—nothing further was added to
it, and we have his story after having travelled
down over two hundred years as a tradition.  That
was plenty of time for additions and emendations,
and the hobgoblin and ghost stories that come into
his life are some of these embellishments.  But the
main facts of his life are true history.  We are able
to decide this by comparing his story with those of
other families in the same part of the island, and to
see whether they agree as to dates, and as to the
circumstances narrated in them.

In the north-west of Iceland is an immense bay
called the Huna-floi, which branches off into several
creeks, the largest of which is called the Ramsfirth,
and the next to that is the Middlefiord.  Into this
flows a river that has its rise in the central desert, in
a perfect tangle of lakes.  Three rivers issuing from
these lakes unite just above Biarg, and pour their
waters a short morning's ride lower through sands
into the Middlefirth.

The valley is not cheerful, running from north to
south.  Biarg lies on the east side, and faces the
western sun.  The moor which lies behind it, and
forms the hill on the other side of the river, is not
broken and picturesque, and if it were not for the
peak of Burfell, covered with snow a good part of
the year, the view from Biarg would be as
uninteresting as any to be found in the land.  But then,
when one rides down to the coast, or ascends the
moor, what a splendid view bursts on the sight!
The great Polar Sea is before one, intensely blue,
not with the deep ultramarine of the Mediterranean,
but with the blue of the nemophyla or forget-me-not,
rolling in from the mysterious North; and
across the mighty bay of the Huna-floi can be seen
the snowy mountains of that extraordinary peninsula
which runs out to the north-west of Iceland, and is
only just not converted into an island because
connected with Iceland by a narrow strip of land.  That
great projection is like a hand with fiords between
the fingers of land, and glacier-mountains where are
the knuckles; but the wrist is very narrow indeed,
only about one English mile across, and there lies a
trough along this junction, with a little stream and a
lake in it.  Now, at this wrist, as we may call it, lies
the farm of Eyre, where, somewhat later, lived the
sister of Grettir, who married a man that farmed
there, named Glum.

Looking away across the great blue bay, the
mountains of the hand may be seen rising out of the
sea, and looking like icebergs.

Grettir the Strong was the son of a well-to-do
bonder, or yeoman, who lived at Biarg, and was
descended from some of the great nobles of Norway.
His father's name was Asmund with the Grey-head,
and his mother's name was Asdis.

He had a brother called Atli, a gentle, kindly
young fellow, who never wittingly quarrelled with
anyone, and was liked by all with whom he had to
do.  He had also two sisters—one was called
Thordis, and she was married to Glum of Eyre—but
neither come into the story; and he had another
sister called Rannveig, who was married to Gamli of
Melar, at the head of Ramsfirth.  He had also a
little brother called Illugi, of whom more hereafter.
Grettir was not a good-looking boy; he had reddish
hair, a pale face full of freckles, and light blue
eyes.  He was broad-built, not tall as a boy, though
in the end he grew to be a very big man.

He was not considered a good-tempered or sociable
boy.  He seemed lazy and sullen; he liked to
sit by the fire without speaking to anyone, listening
to what was said, and brooding over what he had
heard.

If his father set him a task, he did it so
unwillingly, and so badly that Asmund Greyhead regretted
having set him to do anything.

Now, during the winter, as we have already seen,
when there is but a very little daylight, and the
nights are vastly long, when, moreover, the whole
land is deep in snow, so that there is no farm-work
that can be done, and no travelling about to visit
neighbours, it was, and is still, usual in Iceland for
those in the house to tell tales, or sagas, as they
are called.  Some of these sagas relate to the old
gods of the Norsemen, some are fabulous stories of
old heroes who never existed, or, if they did exist,
have had all sorts of fantastic legends tacked on to
their histories; but other sagas are the tales of the
doings of ancestors of the family.

Now, among the sagas that Grettir used to hearken
to with greatest delight was that of old Onund
Treefoot, his great-grandfather, who first settled in
Iceland.  And this was the tale:

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Onund, the son of Ufeigh Clubfoot, son of Ivar
the Smiter, was a mighty Viking in Norway; that is,
he went about every summer harrying the coasts of
England, Ireland, and Scotland.  He joined with
three friends, and they had five ships together, and
one summer they sailed to the Hebrides—which
were then called the Sudereys, or southern isles.
The Bishop of the Isle of Man is still called Bishop
of Sodor and Man, because his diocese originally
included the Sudereys.  Then out against them came
Kiarval, king of the Hebrides, with five ships, and
they gave him battle, and there was a hard fray.
But the men of Onund were the mightiest warriors.
On each side many fell, but the end of the battle
was that the king fled with only one ship.  So
Onund took the four vessels and great spoil, and he
wrought great havoc on the coast, plundering and
burning, and so in the fall of the year returned to
Norway.  In the history of England, and in that of
Scotland and of Ireland, we read of the terrible
annoyance given to the natives of Great Britain and
Ireland by the northern pirates; and, indeed, they
conquered Dublin, and established a kingdom there,
and also took to themselves Orkney.  Well, when
Onund returned to Norway he did not find that
matters were pleasant there; for King Harald the
Unshorn had begun to establish himself sole king in
Norway.  Hitherto there had been many small
kings and earls; but Harald had taken an oath
that he would not cut or trim his hair till he had
subdued all under his power, and made himself
supreme throughout the land.

A great many bonders and all the little kings
united against him, and there was a great battle
fought at Hafrsfiord—the greatest battle that had
as yet been fought in Norway.  Onund was in the
battle along with his friend, King Thorir Longchin,
and he set his ship alongside of that of King Longchin.
King Harald ran his ship up alongside of that
of Longchin, grappled it, and boarded it.  There was a
furious fight, and Harald sent on board his Bearsarks,
a set of half-mad ruffians, who wore not bear but
wolf skins, and who were said to lead charmed lives,
so that no weapon would wound them.  Thorir
Longchin and all his men were killed; and then
King Harald cut away the ship and ran up against
that of Onund.  Onund was in the fore part, and
he fought manfully.  As the grappling-irons of
Harald caught his ship, Onund made a sweep with
his longsword at the man who threw the irons, and
in so doing he put his leg over the bulwark.  Then
one on the king's ship threw a spear at Onund.
He saw it flung, and leaned his head back to let it
fly over him, and as he did so one on the king's
ship smote at him with a battle-axe, and the axe
fell on his leg below the knee and shore his leg off.
Then Onund fell back on board his own vessel, and
his men carried him across into that of a friend
named Thrand, who lay alongside of him on the
other board.  And Thrand had a great cauldron
there of pitch boiled, and Onund set his knee in the
boiling pitch, and never blinked nor uttered a cry.
That staunched the blood.  If he had not done this
he would have bled to death.

Now, Thrand saw that King Harald was gaining
the mastery everywhere, so he fled away with his
ship and sailed west.

Onund was healed of his wound, but ever after
he walked with a wooden leg, and that is why he
got the name of Onund Treefoot.

After the battle of Hafrsfiord, Onund could only
return to Norway by stealth, and he could not
recover his lands there, so he deemed it wisest for
him to sail away and seek a home elsewhere.  That
is how he left Norway and settled in Iceland.

And when King Harald saw himself lord and
master through all the land, then he had his hair
trimmed and combed, and it was so long and so
beautiful, that ever after he who had been called
"The Unshorn" went by the name of "Fairhair,"
and in history he is known as King Harald Fairhair.





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.. _`HOW GRETTIR PLAYED ON THE ICE`:

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   CHAPTER II.


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   HOW GRETTIR PLAYED ON THE ICE.

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   *An Evil Boyhood—Golf on the Ice—Grettir Quarrels
   with Audun—A Threat of Vengeance*

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There are several tales told of Grettir when he
was a boy, which show that he was a rough
and unkindly lad.  He was set by his father to keep
geese on the moors, and this made him angry, so he
threw stones at the geese and killed or wounded
them all.

The old man suffered from lumbago, and in winter
when unwell asked his wife and the boys to rub his
back by the fire; but when Grettir was required to
do this, he lost his temper, and on one occasion he
snatched up a wool-carding comb and dug it into
his old father's back.

Many other things he did which made those at
home not like him, and there was not much love
lost between him and his father.  The fact was that
Grettir was a headstrong, wilful fellow, and bitterly
had he to pay in after life for this youthful
wilfulness and obstinacy.  It was these qualities, untamed
in him, that wrecked his whole life, and it may be
said brought ruin and extinction on his family.
There were great and good qualities in Grettir's
nature, but they did not show when he was young;
only much suffering and cruel privations brought
out in the end the higher and nobler elements that
were in him.

It is so with all who have any good in them, if
by early discipline it is not manifested, then it is
brought out by the rough usage of misfortune in
after life.

And now I will give one incident of Grettir's
boyhood.  It was a favourite amusement for young
fellows at that time to play golf on the ice, and in
winter, when the Middlefirth was frozen over, large
parties assembled there for the sport.

One winter a party was arranged for a match on
the ice, and a good many lads came to Middlefirth
from Willowdale, a valley only separated from the
Middlefirth by a long shoulder of ugly moor.  The
Willowdales-men had a much better sheet of water,
a very large lake called Hop, into which their river
flowed, before discharging itself into the sea; and
the return match was to be played on Hop.

Among the young fellows who came from Willowdale
was Audun, a fine, strapping fellow; frank,
well-built, good-looking, and amiable.

When the parties were assembled at the place,
there they were paired off according to age and
strength; and on this occasion I am speaking of,
Grettir, who was fourteen, was set to play with
Audun, who was two years older than he, and a
head taller.

Audun struck the ball and it flew over Grettir's
head, and he missed it, and it went skimming away
over the ice to a great distance, and Grettir had to
run after it.  Some of those who were looking on
laughed.  Then Grettir's anger was roused.  He got
the ball and came back carrying it, till he was
within a few yards of Audun, and then, instead of
dropping the ball, and striking it with his golfing-stick,
he suddenly threw it with all his force against his
adversary, and struck him between his eyes, so that
it half-stunned him, and cut the skin.  Audun
whirled his golfing-bat round, and struck at Grettir,
who dodged under and escaped the blow.  Then
Audun and Grettir grappled each other, and wrestled
on the ice.

Every one thought that Audun would have the
stumpy, thick-set boy down in a trice, but it was
not so; Grettir held his ground;—they swung this
way, that way; now one seemed about to be cast,
and then the other, and although Audun was almost
come to a man's strength, he could not for a long
time throw Grettir.  At last Grettir slipped on a
piece of ice where some had been sliding, and went
down.  His blood was up, so was that of Audun; and
the fight would have been continued with their sticks,
had not Grettir's brother Atli thrown himself
between the combatants and separated them.  Atli held
his brother back, and tried to patch up the quarrel.

"You need not hold me like a mad dog," said
Grettir.  "Thralls wreak their vengeance at once,
cowards never."

Audun and Grettir were distant cousins.  They
were not allowed to play against each other any
more, and the rest went on with their game.





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.. _`OF THE RIDE TO THINGVALLA`:

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   CHAPTER III.


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   OF THE RIDE TO THINGVALLA.

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..
   
   *Thorkel Mani's Find—Thorkel Krafla—The Halt
   at Biarg—A Bad Prospect—Among the Lakes—The
   Lost Meal-bags—Suspicion Confirmed—The Slaying
   of Skeggi—The Song of the Battle-ogress—Grettir
   Chooses to take his Trial*

.. vspace:: 2

There lived in Waterdale, a day's journey from
Biarg, an old bonder, named Thorkel Krafla.
He was the first Icelander who became a Christian.

In heathen times, among the Northmen as among
the Romans, it was allowable for parents to expose
their children to death, if they did not want to have
the trouble of rearing them.  Now Thorkel had
been so exposed, with a napkin over his face.  It so
happened that a great chief called Thorkel Mani
was riding along one day, thinking about the gods
that he had been taught to believe in, who drank
and got drunk, and fought each other, and, being a
grave, meditative man, he could not make out what
these rollicking, fighting gods could have had to do
with the world,—with the creation of sun, moon,
and stars, and the earth with its yield.  He thought
to himself, "There must be some God above these
tipsy, quarrelsome deities; and this higher God
must love men, and be good and kind to men."

As he thought this, he heard a little whimpering
noise from behind a stone; he got off his horse, and
went to see what produced this noise, and found
there a poor little baby, that with its tiny hands
had rumpled up the kerchief which had been spread
over its nose and mouth.  Thorkel Mani took up
the deserted babe in his arms, and looking up to
heaven, to the sun, said, "If the good God, who is
high over all, called this little being into life, gave
it eyes and mouth and ears and hands and feet, He
surely never intended His handiwork to be cast out
as a thing of no value, to die.  For the love of Him
I will take this child."

Then Thorkel Mani rode home, carrying the baby
in his arms; and he called it by his own name,
Thorkel; but to distinguish it from himself, it was
given the nickname Krafla, which means to rumple,
because the babe had rumpled up the kerchief, so
as to let its cries be heard.  So the child grew up,
and kept the name through life of Thorkel Rumple.
This Thorkel became a very great man, and
Godi, or magistrate, of the Waterdale; and, as I
have said, he was the first man to become a
Christian, when missionaries of the gospel came to
Iceland.

Very soon after Grettir's birth Christianity
became general, and in the year 1000 was sanctioned by
law; but there were few Christian priests in the land,
so that the knowledge of the truth had not spread
much, and taken hold and transformed men's lives.
Thorkel Rumple was now very old.  He was the
bosom friend of Asmund, and every year when in
the spring he rode to the great assizes at Thingvalla,
he always halted at least one night at Biarg.  Not
only were Asmund and he men of like minds, and
friends, but they were also connected.  In the spring
of the year 1011, Thorkel arrived as usual at Biarg,
attended by a great many men, and he was most
warmly received by Asmund and his wife.  He
remained with them three nights, and he and
they fell a-talking about the prospects of the two
young men, Atli and Grettir.  Asmund told his
kinsman that Atli was a quiet, amiable fellow,
now at man's estate, and likely to prove a good
farmer; a man who would worthily succeed him at
Biarg when he died, and keep the honour of the
family untarnished, and would enlarge the estate.

"Ah!  I see," said Thorkel.  "A useful man, good
and respectable, like yourself.  But what about
Grettir?"

Asmund hesitated a moment before answering;
but presently he said, "I hardly know what to say
of him.  He is unruly, sullen, makes no friends, and
he has been a constant cause of vexation to me."

Thorkel answered, "That is a bad prospect;
however, let him come with me to Thingvalla, and I
shall be able to see on the journey of what stuff he
is made."

To this Asmund agreed; and right glad was
Grettir to think he was to go to the great law-gathering.

Thorkel had sixty men with him, and he rode in
some state; for, as already said, he was a great man.
The way led over the great desolate waste, called
the Two-days-ride; but as on this expanse there were
few halting-places, the grass most scanty, and not
sufficient to allow of a stay, the party rode across it
down to the settled lands nearer the coast as quickly
as they could, and reached Fleet-tongue in time to
sleep; so they took the bridles off their horses, and
let them graze with their saddles on.  Their road
had lain among the lakes, from which issued the
rivers that united above Biarg.  In each lake floated
a pair of swans.  Often they heard the loud hoarse
cry of the great northern diver; but there was
hardly any grass, for the moor lies high, is swept
by the icy blasts from the glacier mountains to the
south, and is made up of black sand.  Before them
all day had stood towering into the sky the Eyreksjokull,
a mountain with perfectly precipitous sides of
black basalt, domed over with glittering ice.  It
resembles an immense bridecake.  At one place this
mountain in former times had gaped, and poured
forth a fiery stream of lava that ran to the lakes,
and for a while converted them to steam.  One can
still see whence this great fiery river issued from
the mountain.  Little did Grettir think then as he
passed under it, a boy of fourteen, that, for the three
most lonely, wretched years of his life, that great
glacier-crowned mountain was to be the one object
on which his eye would rest.

The men were all very tired after their long ride,
and they slept till late next morning, lying about
on the scant herbage, around a fire made of the roots
of trailing willows that they had dug out of the
sand.

When they awoke many of the horses had strayed,
and some had rolled in the sand, burst their girths
and shaken off their saddles.  But they could not
have gone any great distance, for they were all
hobbled.  In Iceland thick woollen ropes are put
round the legs of the horses, below the hocks, and
twisted together into a knot with a knuckle-bone.
This serves as a secure hobble, and the wool being
soft does not gall the skin.

It was customary in those days for every one to
take his own provisions with him, and most of those
who went to the great assize carried meal-bags
athwart their saddles.  Grettir found his horse at
last, but not his meal-bag, which had come off, and
was lost; for the saddle was turned under the belly
of his cob.

The horses could not have strayed far, not only
because they were hobbled, but also because the
Tongue where they had been turned loose was a
narrow strip of land between two rivers; but then
the slope was considerable in places, and the
meal-bag might have rolled down into the water.

As Grettir was running about hunting for his bag,
he saw another man in the same predicament.  What
is more, he saw that the rest of the party, impatient
to get on their way, would tarry no longer for them,
and were defiling down the hill to cross the river.

Grettir was in great distress.  Just then he saw
the man run very directly in one course, and at the
same moment Grettir saw something white lying
under a mass of lava.  It was towards this that the
fellow was running.  Grettir ran towards it also.  It
was a meal-sack.  The man reached it first, and
threw it over his shoulder.

"What have you got there?" asked Grettir, coming up panting.

"My meal-sack," answered the fellow.

"Let me look at it," said Grettir.  "It may be
mine, not yours.  Let me look before you
appropriate it."

This the man refused to do.

Grettir's suspicion was confirmed, and he made a
catch at the sack, and tried to drag it away from
the fellow.

"Oh, yes!" sneered the man—who was a servant
at a farm called The Ridge, in Waterdale, and his
name Skeggi,—"Oh, yes! you Middlefirthers think
you will have everything your own way."

"That is not it," answered Grettir.  "Let each
man take his own.  If the sack be yours, keep it;
if mine, I will have it."

"It is a pity Audun is not here," scoffed the
serving-man, "or he would trip up your heels and
throttle you, as he did on the ice when golfing."

"But as he is not here," retorted Grettir, "you
are not like to get the better of me."

Skeggi suddenly took his axe by the haft and
hewed at Grettir's head.  Grettir saw what he was
at, and instantly put up his left hand and caught
the handle below where Skeggi's hand held it;
wrenched it out of his grasp, and struck him with
it, so that his skull was cleft.  The thing was done
in a moment, and Grettir had done it in self-preservation
and without premeditation.  He was but a
boy of fourteen, and this was a full-grown stout
churl.

Grettir at once seized the meal-bag, saw it was
his own, and threw it across his saddle.  Then he
rode after the company.  Thorkel Krafla rode at the
head of his party, and he had no misgiving that
anything untoward had taken place.

But, when Grettir came riding up with his meal-bag,
the men asked him if he had left Skeggi still
in search of his.  Grettir answered in song:

   |  "A rock Troll did her burden throw
   |  Down on Skeggi's skull, I trow.
   |  O'er the battle-ogress saw I flow
   |  Ruby rivers all aglow.
   |  She her iron mouth a-gape
   |  Did the life of Skeggi take."
   |

This sounds like nonsense; to understand it one
must have a notion of what constituted poetry in
the minds of Icelanders and Northmen.  With them
the charm of poetry consisted in never calling
anything by its right name, but using instead of it some
far-fetched similitude or periphrasis.  Thus—the
burden of the rock Troll is iron.  The Troll is the
spirit of the mountain, and the heaviest thing found
in the mountain is iron.  The battle-ogress is the
axe which bites in battle.  The verses that the Norse
poets sang were a series of conundrums, and the
hearers puzzled their brains to make out the sense.
This time they soon understood what Grettir meant,
and the men turned and went back to the Tongue,
and there found Skeggi dead.

Grettir went on to Thorkel, and in few words,
and to the point, told how things had fallen out.
He was not the aggressor.  He had merely defended
himself.

Thorkel was much troubled, and he told Grettir
that he might either come on to the assize or go
home; that this act of man-slaughter would be
investigated at the law-gathering, and judgment given
upon it.

Grettir agreed to go on, and see how matters
would turn out for him.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE DOOM-DAY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE DOOM-DAY.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Lava Plain—The Law of Man-slaughter—Grettir's
   Sentence—The Grettir Stone*

.. vspace:: 2

That evening they arrived at Thingvalla.

The great plain of Thingvalla is entirely composed
of lava.  At some remote period before Iceland
was colonized a beautiful snowy cone of mountain,
called "The Broad Shield," poured forth a deluge
of molten rock, which ran in a fiery river down a
valley for some miles, half-choking it up, and then
spread out over a wide plain where anciently there
had been a great lake.  Then all cooled, but after
the cooling, or whilst it was in process, there came
a great crack, crack.  The great mass of lava must
have been poured over some subterranean caverns;
at any rate the whole plain snapped and sank down
a good many feet, the lava becoming cracked and
starred like glass.  Nowadays, one cannot cross the
plain because it is all traversed with these fearful
cracks, chasms the bottom of which is filled with
black water.  Where the plain sank deepest there
water settled and formed the beautiful Thingvalla
Lake.

At the side of one of the cracks where the plain
broke off and sank is a very curious pinnacle of
black rock, and this was called the Hanging Rock,
as criminals were hung from it over the chasm.

In one place two of the cracks unite, and there is
a high mound of blistered lava covered with turf
and flowers between them.  That is called the Law
Hill, because the judge and his assessors sat there,
and no one could get to them, nor could the accused
get away across the chasms.

Now it was the law at this time in Iceland that
when any man had been killed his nearest relatives
came to the assize, and the slayer appeared by
proxy and offered blood-money—that is to say, to
pay a fine to the relations, and so patch up the
quarrel.  But if they refused the money then they
were at liberty to pursue and kill him.  There were
no police then.  If the relations wanted to have
the criminal punished they must punish him themselves.

Upon this occasion the case was discussed in
the court on the finger of rock between the two
chasms, the people standing on the further sides of
these gulfs, listening, but unable to come a step
nearer; and Thorkel appeared for Grettir and offered
to pay the blood-money.  The relations of the dead
Skeggi, after a little fuss, agreed to accept a certain
sum, and Thorkel at once paid it.  But the court
ordered that, as Grettir had acted with undue
violence, and as there was no evidence except his word
that Skeggi had made the first attack, he should be
outlawed, and leave Iceland for three winters.  If
he set his foot in Iceland till three winters had
passed, his life was forfeit.  He was allowed a
moderate and reasonable time for finding a ship that
would take him out of the country.

When the assize was over all rode home, and the
way that Thorkel and Grettir went was up the
valley that had been half-choked with the lava that
rolled down from Broad Shield.  They came to a
small grassy plain with a gently-sloping hill rising
out of it, a place where games took place, the women
sitting up the slope and watching the men below.
Here Grettir is said to have heaved an enormous
stone.  The stone is still shown, and I have seen it.
I also know that Grettir never lifted it; for it has
clearly been brought there by a glacier.  But this
is an instance of the way in which stories get
magnified in telling.  No doubt that Grettir did "put"
there some big stone, and as it happened that at this
spot there was a great rock standing by itself balanced
on one point, in after days folks concluded that this
must have been the stone thrown by Grettir.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE VOYAGE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE VOYAGE.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Preparations for a Voyage—His Grandfather's
   Sword—A Bitter Jester—Vain Reproaches—Haflid's
   Stratagem—The Tables Turned—Shipwrecked*

.. vspace:: 2

Grettir, then, was doomed by the court to leave
his native land whilst only a boy, and remain
in banishment for three years—that is to say, till
he was eighteen.  He was not over sorry for this,
as he was tired of being at home, and he wanted to
see the world.

There was a man called Haflid who had a ship in
which he intended to sail that autumn to Norway,
and Asmund sent to him to ask him to take Grettir
out with him.

Haflid answered that he had not heard a good
account of the boy, and did not particularly wish
to have him in his boat; but he would stretch a
point, because of the regard he had for old Asmund,
and he would take him.

Grettir got ready to start; but Asmund would
not give him much wherewith to trade when abroad,
except some rolls of home-made wadmall, a coarse
felty cloth, and a stock of victuals for his voyage.
Grettir asked his father to give him some weapon;
but the old man answered that he did not trust him
with swords and axes, he might put them to a bad
use, and it would be better he went without till he
had learned to control his temper and keep a check
on his hand.

So Grettir parted from his father without much
love on either side; and it was noticed when he
left home that, though there were plenty of folks
ready to bid him farewell, hardly anyone said that
he hoped to see him come home again—a certain
token that he was not liked by those who had seen
most of him.  But indeed he had taken no pains to
oblige anyone and obtain the regard and love of
anyone.

His mother was an exception.  She went along
the road down the valley with him, wearing a long
cloak; and when they were alone, at some distance
from the house, she halted and drew out a sword
from under her cloak, and handing it to Grettir,
said: "This sword belonged to grandfather, and
many a hard fight has it been in, and much good
work has it done.  I give it to you, and hope it
may stand you in good stead."

Grettir was highly pleased, and told his mother
that he would rather have the sword than anything
else that could be given him.

Haflid received Grettir in a friendly manner, and
he went at once on board; the ship's anchor was
heaved, and forth they went to sea.

Now, directly Grettir got on board he looked
about for a place where he could be comfortable,
and chose to make a berth for himself under a boat
that was slung on deck; then he put up his wadmall,
making a sort of felt lining or wall round against
the wind and spray, leaving open only the side
inwards, and inside he piled his provisions and
whatever he had; then he lay down there and did not
stir from his snuggery.  Now, it was the custom in
those days for every man who went in a ship to
help in the navigation; but Grettir would not only
do nothing, but from his den he shouted or sang
lampoons—that is, spiteful songs, making fun of
every man on board.  They were not good-natured
jokes, but bitter, stinging ones.

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.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE RED ROVERS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE RED ROVERS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *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*

.. vspace:: 2

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.

"I have brought you guests for Yule," said Grettir.
"We shall not keep it in as dull a fashion as we
feared.  Here come visitors uninvited, but merry,
uncommon merry."

"Who are they?" asked the housewife.

"Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad,
and ten of their comrades."

Then she cried out: "What have you done?  These
are the worst ruffians in all Norway.  Is this the
way you repay the kindness Thorfin has shown you
in housing and keeping you here, without it's
costing you anything?"

"Stay your woman's tongue!" growled Grettir.
"Now bestir yourself and bring out dry clothes for
the guests."

Then the housewife ran away crying, and her sick
daughter, who saw the house invaded by ill-looking
men all armed, hid herself.

"Well," said Grettir, "as the women are too
scared to attend on you, I will do what is necessary;
so give me your wet clothes, and let me wipe your
weapons and set them by the fire lest they get rusted."

"You are a different fellow from all the rest in
the house."

"I do not belong to the house.  I am a stranger,
an Icelander."

"Then I don't mind taking you along with us
when we go away."

"As you will," answered the young fellow; "only
mind, I don't behave like this to every one."

Then the freebooters gave him their weapons, and he
wiped the salt water from them, and laid them aside
in a warm spot.  Next he removed their wet garments,
and brought them dry suits which he routed out of
the clothes-chests belonging to Thorfin and his men.

By this time it was night.  Grettir brought in
logs and faggots of fir branches, and made a roaring
fire that filled the great hall with ruddy light and
warmth.  In those days the halls were long buildings
with a set of hearths running down the middle,
and benches beside the fires.

"Now, then, my men," said Grettir, "come to the
table and drink, for I doubt not you are thirsty with
long rowing."

"We are ready," said they.  "But where are the cellars?"

"Oh, if you please, I will bring you ale."

"Certainly, you shall attend on us," said Thorir.

Then Grettir went and fetched the best and
strongest ale in Thorfin's cellars, and poured it out
for the men.  They were very tired and thirsty,
and they drank eagerly.  Grettir did not stint them
in meat or drink, and at last he took his place by
them, and recited many tales that made them laugh,
he also sang them songs; but they were becoming
fast too tipsy to rack their brains to find out the
meaning in the poetry.

Not one of the house-churls showed his face in
the hall that evening; they slunk about the farm,
in the stables and sheds, frightened and trembling.

Then said Thorir: "I'll tell you what, my men.
I like this young chap, and I doubt our finding
another so handy and willing.  What say you all to
our taking him into our band?"

The pirates banged their drinking-horns on the
table in token of approval.  Then Grettir stood up
and said:

"I thank you for the offer, and if you are in the
same mind to-morrow morning when the ale is no
longer in your heads, I will strike hands and go
with you."

"Let us drink brotherhood at once," shouted the
rovers.

"Not so," said Grettir calmly.  "I will not
have it said that I took advantage of you when
you were not sober.  It is said that when the wine
is in the wit is out."

They all protested that they would be of the same
mind next morning, but Grettir stuck to his decision.
They were now becoming so tipsy that he proposed
they should go to bed.

"But first of all," said he, "I think you will like
to run your eyes over Thorfin's storehouse where he
keeps all his treasures."

"That we shall!" roared Thorir, staggering to his
feet.

Then Grettir took a blazing firebrand from the
hearth, and led the way out of the hall into the
night.

The storehouse was detached from the main
buildings.  It was very strongly built of massive
logs, firmly mortised together.  The door also was
very solid, and the whole stood on a strong stone
basement, and a flight of stone steps led up to the
door.  Adjoining the storehouse was a lean-to
building divided off from it by a partition of planks.

The sharp frosty air of night striking on the faces
of the revellers increased their intoxication, and
they became very riotous, staggering against each
other, uttering howls and attempting to sing.

Drawing back the bolt Grettir flung the door
open, and showed the twelve rovers into the
treasury; and he held the flaming torch above his head
and showed the silver-mounted drinking-horns, the
embroidered garments, the rich fur mantles, gold
bracelets, and bags filled with silver coins obtained
from England.  The drunken men dashed upon the
spoil, knocking each other over and quarrelling for
the goods they wanted.

In the midst of this noise and tumult Grettir
quietly extinguished the torch, stepped outside and
ran the bolt into its place; he had shut them all—all
twelve, into the strong-room, and not one of
them had his weapons about him.

Then Grettir ran to the farm door and shouted
for the housewife.  But she would not answer, as she
mistrusted him; and no wonder, for he had seemed
to be hand and glove with the pirates.

"Come, come!" shouted Grettir, "I have caught
all twelve, and all I need now are weapons.  Call up
the thralls and arm them.  Quick! not a moment
must be lost."

"There are plenty of weapons here," answered the
poor woman, emerging from her place of concealment.
"But, Grettir, I mistrust you."

"Trust or no trust," said Grettir, "I must have
weapons.  Where are the serving-men?  Here,
Kolbein!  Swein!  Gamli!  Rolf!  Confound the rascals,
where are they skulking?"

"Over Thorfin's bed hangs a great barbed spear,"
said the housewife.  "You will also find a sword
and helmet and cuirass.  No lack of weapons, only
pluck to wield them is needed."

Grettir seized the casque and spear, girded on the
sword and dashed into the yard, begging the woman
to send the churls after him.  She called the eight
men, and they came up timidly—that is to say, four
appeared and took the weapons, but the other four,
after showing their faces, ran and hid themselves
again, they were afraid to measure swords with the
terrible rovers.

In the meantime the pirates had been trying the
door, but it was too massive for them to break
through, so they tore down the partitions of boards
between the store and the lean-to room at the side.
They were mad with drink and fury.  They broke
down the door of the side-room easily enough, and
came out on the platform at the head of the stone
steps just as Grettir reached the bottom.

Thorir and Ogmund were together.  In the fitful
gleams of the moon they seemed like demons as
they scrambled out, armed with splinters of deal
they had broken from the planks and turned into
weapons.  The brothers plunged down the narrow
stairs with a howl that rang through the snow-clad
forest for miles.  Grettir planted the boar-spear in the
ground and caught Thorir on its point.  The sharp
double-edged blade, three feet in length, sliced into
him and came out between his shoulders, then tore
into Ogmund's breast a span deep.  The yew shaft
bent like a bow, and flipped from the ground the
stone against which the butt-end had been planted.
The wretched men crashed over the stair, tried to
rise, staggered, and fell again.  Grettir trod on
Thorir, wrenched the spear out of him, and then
running up the steps cut down another rover as he
came through the door.  Then the rest came out
stumbling over each other, some armed with bits of
broken stick, others unarmed, and as they came
forth Grettir hewed at them with the sword, or
thrust at them with the spear.

In the meantime the churls had come up, armed
indeed, but not knowing how to use the weapons,
and in a condition of too great terror to use them
to any purpose.  The pirates saw that they were
being worsted, and their danger sobered them.  They
went back into the room and ripped the planks till
they had obtained serviceable pieces, and then came
two together down the stair, warding off Grettir's
blows with their sticks, and not attempting to strike.
Then they forced him back and allowed space and
time for those behind to leap down to the ground.
If then they had combined they might have
recovered the mastery, but they did not believe that
they were assailed by a single enemy, they thought
that there must have been many; consequently
those who had leaped from the platform, instead
of attacking Grettir from behind, ran away across
the farmyard, and those who were warding off his
blows, finding themselves unsupported, lost heart,
and leaped down as well and attempted to escape.
The yard was full of flying frightened wretches, too
blinded by their fear to find the gate, and in the
wildness of their terror they climbed or leaped over
the yard wall and ran towards the boat-house.
Grettir went after them.  They plunged into the
dark boat-shed, and possessed themselves of the
oars, whilst some tried to run their boat down into
the water.  Grettir followed them in the gloom,
smiting to right and left.  The bewildered wretches
in the darkness hit each other, stumbled and fell in
the boat, and some wounded went into the water.

The thralls, content that the pirates had cleared
out of the yard, did not trouble themselves to
pursue them, but went into the farmhouse.  The good
woman in vain urged them to go after and
succour Grettir.  They thought they had done quite
enough.  It is true, they had neither killed nor
wounded anyone, but they had seen some men
killed.  So Grettir got no help from them.  He was
still in the boat-house, and he had this advantage:
the boat-house was open to the air on the side that
faced the sea, whilst the further side was closed with
a door, consequently Grettir was himself in shadow.
But the moon shone on the water, and he could see
the black figures of the rovers cut sharply against
this silver background.  So he could see where to
strike, whilst he himself was unseen.

One stroke from an oar reached him on the
shoulder, and for the moment numbed his arm; but
he speedily recovered sensation, and killed two more
of the ruffians; then the remaining four made a dash
together, past him, through the door, and separating
into pairs, fled in opposite directions.  Grettir went
after one of the couples and tracked them to a
neighbouring farm, where they dashed into a granary
and hid among the straw.  Unfortunately for them
most of the wheat had been thrashed out, so that
only a few bundles remained.  Grettir shut and
bolted the door behind him, then chased the poor
wretches like rats from corner to corner, till he had
cut them both down.  Then he opened the door,
and cast the corpses outside.

In the meanwhile the weather was changing, the
sky had become overcast with a thick snow fog that
rolled up from the sea, so that Grettir, on coming
out, saw that he must abandon the pursuit of the
remaining two.  Moreover, his arm pained him, his
strength was failing him, and a sense of overpowering
fatigue stole over him.

The housewife had placed a lamp in a window of
a loft as a guide to Grettir in the fog; the stupid
house-thralls could not be induced by her to go out
in search of him, and she was becoming uneasy at
his protracted absence.  The fog turned into small
snow, thick and blinding, and Grettir struggled
through it with difficulty, as the weariness he felt
became almost overpowering.  At last he reached
the farm and staggered in through the door.  He
could hardly speak.  He went to the table, took a
horn of mead, drank some, and then threw himself
down among the rushes on the floor by the fire, full
armed grasping the sword, and in a moment was
asleep.

He did not wake for twelve hours; but the
cautious and prudent housewife had sent out the
carles in search of the pirates.  The dead bodies
were found, some in the yard, some in the
boat-house; then Grettir woke and came to them and
pointed out in what direction the only remaining
two had run.  The snow had fallen so thick that
their traces could not be followed, but before
nightfall they were discovered, dead, under a rock where
they had taken refuge; they had died of cold and
loss of blood.  All the bodies were collected and a
great cairn of stones was piled over them.

When they had been buried, then the housewife
made Grettir take the high seat in the hall, and
she treated him with the utmost respect, as he deserved.

Time passed, and Thorfin prepared to return home;
he dismissed his guests, and he and his men got into
their boat to return home.  No tidings had reached
him of the events that had happened whilst he had
been away.  The first thing he saw as he came
rowing to his harbour was his punt lying stranded.
This surprised and alarmed him, and he bade his
men row harder.  They ran to the boat-house, and
then saw it occupied by a vessel, on the rollers,
which there was no mistaking; he knew it well,
it belonged to those redoubted pirates Thorir and
Ogmund.  For a moment he was silent with the
terror and grief that came on him.  "The Red
Rovers!" he said, when he recovered the stunning
sense of alarm.  "The Red Rovers are here—they
are on my farm.  God grant they have not hurt my
wife and daughter!"

Then he considered what was to be done, whether
it was best to go at once to the farm, or to make a
secret approach to it from different quarters, and
surprise the enemy.

Grettir was to blame.  He ought not to have
allowed Thorfin to be thus thrown into uncertainty
and distress.  He had seen the master's boat round
the headland and enter the bay, but he would neither
go himself to meet him on the strand, nor suffer
anyone else to go.

"I do not care even if the bonder be a bit
disturbed at what he sees," said the young man.

"Then let me go," urged the wife.

"You are mistress, do as you like," said Grettir
bluntly.

So the housewife and her daughter went down
towards the boat-house, and when Thorfin saw them
he ran to meet them, greatly relieved but much
perplexed, and he clasped his wife to his heart and
said, "God be praised that you and my child are
safe!  But tell me how matters have stood whilst I
have been away, for I cannot understand the boat
being where I found it."

"We have been in grievous peril," answered his
wife.  "But the shipwrecked boy whom you sheltered
has been our protector, better than a dozen men."

Then he said, "Sit down on this rock by me and
tell me all."

They took each other by the hand and sat on a
stone; and the attendants gathered round, and the
housewife told them the whole story from beginning
to end.  When she spoke of the way in which the
young Icelander had led the tipsy rovers into the
storehouse and fastened them in, without their
swords, the men burst into a shout of joy; and
when her tale was concluded, their exultant cries
rang so loud that Grettir heard them in the farmhouse.

Thorfin said nothing to interrupt the thread of
his wife's story; and after she had done he remained
silent, rapt in thought.  No one ventured to disturb
him.  Presently he looked up, and said quietly,
"That is a good proverb which says, 'Never despair
of anyone.'  Now I must speak a word with
Grettir."

Thorfin walked with his wife to the farm, and
when he saw Grettir he held out both his hands to
him, and thanked him.

"This I say to you," said Thorfin, "which few
would say to their best of friends—that I hope some
day you may need my help, and then I will prove
to you how thankful I am for what you have done.
I can say no more."

Grettir thanked him, and spent the rest of the
winter at his house.  The story of what he had done
spread through all the country, and was much
praised, especially by such as had suffered from the
violence of the Ked Rovers.  But Thorfin made to
Grettir a present, in acknowledgment of what he
had done; and that present was the sword that had
hung above his bed, with which Grettir had killed
so many of the rovers.  Now, concerning this sword
a tale has to be told.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE STORY OF THE SWORD`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE STORY OF THE SWORD.

..
   
   *The Light on the Cliff—The Grave of Karr the
   Old—The Visit to the Ness—The Chamber of the
   Dead—The Shape on the Throne—In the Dead Man's
   Arms—A Fearful Wrestle—The Dead Vanquished—The
   Dragon's Treasure—The Tale of the Sword—The
   Two Swords of Grettir*

.. vspace:: 2

Some little while before the slaying of the Red
Rovers, a strange event had taken place.

Grettir had made the acquaintance of a man called
Audun, who lived at a little farm at some distance
from the house of Thorfin, and he walked over
there occasionally to sit and talk with his friend.  As
he returned late at night he noticed that a strange
light used to dance at the end of a cliff that
overhung the sea, at the end of a headland; a lonely
desolate headland it was, without house or stall near
it.  Grettir had never been there, and as it was so
bare, he knew that no one lived on that headland,
so he could not account for the light.  One day he
said to Audun that he had seen this strange light,
which was not steady but flickered; and he asked
him what it meant.

Audun at once became very grave, and after a
moment's hesitation said, "You are right.  No one
lives on that ness, but there is a great mound there,
under which is buried Karr the Old, the forefather of
your host Thorfin; and it is said that much treasure
was buried with him.  That is why the ghostly light
burns above the mound, for—you must know that
flames dance over hidden treasure."

"If treasure be hidden there, I will dig it up,"
said Grettir.

"Attempt nothing of the kind," said Audun, "or
Thorfin will be angry.  Besides, Karr the Old is a
dangerous fellow to have to deal with.  He walks
at night, and haunts all that headland and has scared
away the dwellers in the nearest farms.  No one dare
live there because of him.  That is why the Ness is
all desolate without houses."

"I will stay the night here," said Grettir, "and
to-morrow we will go together to the Ness, and take
spade and pick and a rope, and I will see what can
be found."

Audun did not relish the proposal, but he did
not like to seem behindhand with Grettir, and he
reluctantly agreed to go with him.

So next day the two went out on the Ness together.
They passed two ruined farmhouses, the buildings
rotting, the roofs fallen in.  Those who had lived in
them had been driven away by the dweller in the
old burial mound, or barrow.  The Norse name for
these sepulchral mounds is *Haug*, pronounced almost
like How; and where in England we have places
with the names ending in *hoe*, there undoubtedly in
former times were such mounds.  Thus, in Essex are
Langenhoe and Fingringhoe, that is to say the Long
Barrow and Fingar's How.  Also, the Hoe, the great
walk at Plymouth above the sea, derives its name
from some old burial mound now long ago destroyed.

The Ness was a finger of land running out into
the sea, and on it grew no trees, only a little coarse
grass; at the end rose a great circular bell-shaped
mound, with a ring of stones set round it, to mark
its circumference.  Grettir began to dig at the
summit, and he worked hard.  The day was short,
and the sun was touching the sea as his pickaxe
went through an oak plank, into a hollow space
beneath, and he knew at once that he had struck
into the chamber of the dead.  He worked with
redoubled energy, and tore away the planks, leaving
a black hole beneath of unknown depth, but which
to his thinking could not be more than seven feet
beneath him.  Then he called to Audun for the
rope.  The end he fastened round his waist, and
bade his friend secure the other end to a pole thrown
across the pit mouth.  When this was done, Audun
cautiously let Grettir down into the chamber of the
dead.

Now, you must know that in heathen times what
was often done with old warriors was to draw up a
boat on the shore, and to seat the dead man in the
cabin, with his horse slain beside him, sometimes
some of his slaves or thralls were also killed and put
in with him, and his choicest treasures were heaped
about him.  This men did because they thought
that the dead man would want his weapons, his
raiment, his ornaments, his horse and his servants
in the spirit world.  Of late years such a mound
has been opened in Norway, and a great ship found
in it, well preserved, with the old dead chief's bones
in it.  When a ship was not buried, then a chamber
of strong planks was built, and he was put in that,
and the earth heaped over him.  Into such a chamber
had Grettir now dug.

He soon reached the bottom, and was in darkness,
only a little light came in from above, through the
hole he had broken in the roof of the cabin or
chamber.  His feet were among bones, and these he
was quite sure were horse bones.  Then he groped
about.

As his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness,
he discerned a figure seated in a throne.  It
was the long-dead Karr the Old.  He was in full
harness, with a helmet on his head with bull's horns
sticking out, one on each side; his hands were on
his knees, and his feet on a great chest.  Round his
neck was a gold torque or necklet, made of bars of
twisted gold, hooked together behind the head.
Grettir in the dark could only just make out the
glimmer of the gold, but it seemed to him that a
phosphorescent light played about the face of the
dead chief.

So little light was left, that Grettir hasted to
collect what he could.  There stood a brazen vessel
near the chair, in which were various articles, probably
of worth, but it was too dark for Grettir to see what
they were.  He brought the vessel to the rope and
fastened the end of the cord to its handle.  Then he
went back to the old dead man and drew away a
short sword that lay on his lap, and this he placed
in the brass vessel.  Next he began to unhook the
gold torque from his neck, and as he did this the
phosphorescent flame glared strangely about the dead
man's face.

Then, all at once, as both his hands were engaged
undoing the hook behind Karr's neck, he was clipped.
The dead man's arms had clutched him, and with a
roar like a bull Karr the Old stood up, holding him
fast, and now all the light that had played over
his features gathered into and glared out of his eyes.

When Audun heard the roar, he was so frightened
that he ran from the barrow, and did not stay his
feet till he reached home, feeling convinced that the
ghost or whatever it was that lived in the tomb had
torn Grettir to pieces.

Then began in the chamber of the dead a fearful
wrestle.  Grettir was at times nigh on smothered
by the gray beard of the dead chief, that had been
growing, growing, in the vault, ever since he had
been buried.

How long that terrible struggle continued no one
can tell.  Grettir had to use his utmost force to
stand against Karr the Old.  The two wrestled up
and down in the chamber, kicking the horse bones
about from side to side, stumbling over the coffer,
and the brass vessel, and the horse's skull, striking
against the sides, and when they did this then
masses of earth and portions of broken plank fell in
from above.

At last Karr's feet gave way under him and he
fell, and Grettir fell over him.  Then instantly he
laid hold of his sword, and smote off Old Karr's head
and laid it beside his thigh.

This, according to Norse belief, was the only way
in which to prevent a dead man from walking, who
had haunted the neighbourhood of his tomb, and in
the Icelandic sagas we hear of other cases where the
same proceeding was gone through.  The Norsemen
held to something more dreadful than ghosts walking;
they thought that some evil spirit entered into
the bodies of the dead, that when this happened the
dead no longer decayed, but walked, and ate, and
drank, and fought, very much like living ruffians,
but with redoubled strength.  Then, when this
happened, nothing was of any avail save the digging
up of the dead man, cutting off his head and laying
it at his thigh.

When Grettir had done this, he despoiled Karr
the Old of his helm, his breast-plate, his torque,
and he took the box on which the feet had rested.
He fastened all together to the rope, and called to
Audun to haul up.  He received no answer, so he
swarmed up himself, and finding that his friend had
run away he pulled up what he had tied together,
and carried the whole lot in his arms to the house of
Thorfin.  Thorfin and his party were at supper; and
when Grettir came in, the bonder looked up, and
asked why he did not keep regular hours, and be at
the table when the meal began.  Grettir made no
other answer than to throw all he carried down on
the supper-table before the master.  Thorfin raised
his eyebrows when he saw so much treasure.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked.

Then Grettir answered in one of his enigmatical songs:

   |  "Thou who dost the wave-shine shorten,
   |    My attempt has been to find
   |  In the barrow what was hidden,
   |    Deep in darkness black and blind.
   |  Nothing of the dragon's treasure
   |    With the dead is left behind."
   |

By the wave-shine shortener he meant Thorfin;
the dragon's treasure meant gold, because dragons
were thought to line their lairs with that metal.

Thorfin saw that Grettir's eye looked longingly at
the short sword that had lain on the knees of Karr.
He said: "It was a heathen custom in old times to
bury very much that was precious along with the
dead.  I do not blame you for what you have done;
but this I will say, that there is no one else about
this place who would have ventured to attempt
what you have done.  As for that sword on which
you cast your eyes so longingly, it has ever been in
our family, and I cannot part with it till you have
shown that you are worthy to wear it."

Then that sword was hung up over Thorfin's bed.
You have heard how Grettir did show that he was
worthy to wear it, and also how Thorfin gave it him.

Now, this tale about the sword will very well
illustrate what was said at the beginning, that the
history of Grettir contains, in the main, truth; but
that this substance of truth has been embroidered
over by fancy.  What is true is, that during the
winter in which he was with Thorfin he did dig into
the mound in which Karr was buried, and did take
thence his treasures and his sword.  But all the
story of his fight with the dead man was added.
The same story occurs in a good many other sagas,
as in that of Hromund Greip's son, who also got a
sword by digging into a barrow for it.  When the
history of Grettir was told, and this adventure of his
was related, those who told the story imported into
it the legend of the fight of Hromund in the grave
with the dead man, so as to make the history of
Grettir more amusing.  As you will see by the tale,
no one else was present when it happened, for
Audun had run away, and it was not like Grettir to
boast of what he had done.  This was an embellishment
added by the story-teller, and from the storyteller
the incident passed into the volume of the
story-writer.

Grettir had now two good swords; one long,
which he called Jokull's Gift, that he had received
from his mother, and this short one that he wore at
his girdle, which he had taken out of the grave of
Karr the Old, and which he had won fairly by his
bravery in the defence of the house and family of
Thorfin.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF THE BEAR`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF THE BEAR.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grettir goes North—Biorn the Braggart—The
   Bear's Den—Biorn's Feat—A Hunting Party—The
   Lost Cloak—Grettir Seeks the Bear Alone—Grettir's
   Hardest Tussle—The Fall Over the Cliff—Thorgils
   Acts as Peacemaker—Grettir Restrains Himself*

.. vspace:: 2

When spring came, then Grettir left his friend
Thorfin, and went north along the Norwegian
coast, and was everywhere well received, because
the story of how he had killed twelve rovers, he
being as yet but a boy, was noised through all the
country, and every one who had anything to lose
felt safer because that wicked gang was broken up.
Nothing of consequence is told about him during
that summer.  For the winter he did not return to
Thorfin as asked, but accepted the invitation of
another bonder, named Thorgils.

Thorgils was a merry, pleasant man, and he had
a great company in his house that winter.  Among
his visitors was a certain Biorn, a distant cousin, a
man whom Thorgils did not like, as he was a
slanderous-tongued fellow, and moreover he was a
braggart.  He was one of those persons we meet with
not infrequently who cannot endure to hear another
praised; who, the moment a good word is spoken
of someone, immediately puts in a nasty, spiteful
word, and tells an unkind story, so as to drag that
person down in the general opinion.  At the same
time, concerning himself he had only praiseworthy
and wonderful feats to relate about his wit, his
wisdom, his craft, his knowledge of the world, about
his strength and courage.

Thorgils knew how much, or rather how little,
to believe of what Biorn said, and he did not pay
much regard to his talk.  But now Grettir had an
opportunity of seeing and of feeling how mistaken
had been his conduct on board the ship upon which
he had come to Norway, when he made lampoons on
the sailors and chapmen, and stung them with sharp
words.  He saw how disagreeable a fellow Biorn
was, how much he was disliked, and by some
despised; and he kept very greatly to himself and
out of Biorn's way.  He did not wish to quarrel
with him, because he was the relative of his host,
and he was afraid that his anger would get the better
of him if he did come to words with the braggart.

Grettir had grown a great deal since he left
Iceland, and he was now a strapping fellow, broad
built but not short.  He was not handsome, but his
face was intelligent.

It fell out that a bear gave much trouble that
winter to Thorgils and the neighbouring farmers.
It was so strong and so daring that no folds were
secure against it, and Thorgils and the other farmers
endured severe losses through the depredations of
Bruin.

Before Yule, a party was formed to go in search
of and kill the bear, but all that was done was to
find the lair.

The bear had taken up his abode in the face of a
tremendous cliff that overhung the sea.  There was
but one path up to the cave, and that was so narrow
that only one man could creep along it at a time.
Moreover, if his foot slipped he would be flung over
the edge upon the rocks or skerries below against
which the waves dashed.

"When the den of the bear had been discovered,"
Biorn said, "That is the main thing.  Now I know
where the rogue lies, I'll settle with him, trust me.
I've been the death of scores of bears.  My only
dread is lest he be afraid of me, and will not
come on."

And, actually, Biorn went out on several moonlit
nights to watch for the bear.  He saw that the only
way to deal with him would be to stop the track
from the den, and fight him as he attempted to
come away.  He took his short sword and great
shield with him covered with ox-hide, and one night
he laid himself down on the path of the bear, and
put his shield over him.  He thought that Bruin
would come smelling at the great hide-covered
shield, and then all at once he (Biorn) would spring
up and drive his sword into the heart of the bear.
That was his plan—and not a bad plan—only,
unfortunately for Biorn, the bear did not come out for
a long time.  He had got an inkling that a man was
watching for him, so he was shy, and whilst he
waited before venturing forth, Biorn, who had
been drinking pretty freely that evening, went to sleep.

Presently the bear came out, crept cautiously down
the narrow track, snuffing about, and when he came
to Biorn, he plucked with his claws at the shield,
and with one wrench had it off and tumbled it
down the cliff.

Biorn woke with a start, rose to his knees, saw
the huge bear before him, and in a moment turned
tail, and ran as hard as he could run to Thorgils'
house, and was too scared to be able to boast that
he had killed or wounded the bear.

Next morning his shield was found where the
bear had thrown it, and much fun did this adventure
of the braggart occasion.  This made him very
irritable and more spiteful than ever.

Thorgils now said that really something must be
done to rid the neighbourhood of the bear, so a
party of eight set out well armed with spears; of
this party were Biorn and Grettir.  They reached the
point where the track to the den ran up the cliff to
the lair, and one man after another tried it.  But
there was no getting at the bear; for as soon as a
man came near the beast put his great forepaws
forth and caught and snapped the spear-heads or
beat them down.  As already said, only one could
crawl up at a time.

Grettir had gone out that day in a fur coat that
his friend Thorfin had given him, and which he
greatly valued.  When the onslaught against the
bear began, he took off his fur coat, and folded it,
and put it on a stone.  Biorn saw this, and, when
none observed, he took the fur coat and threw it
into the cave of the bear.  Grettir did not see what
had been done till the party, disappointed with
their want of success, made ready to depart, when
he missed it, and then some suspicion entered his
head as to what had been done with it, and by
whom, but he said nothing.

As they walked home, Biorn began to taunt
Grettir with having done nothing all day.  He
could kill robbers who were unarmed and were
drunk, perhaps asleep, but a bear was too serious an
adversary for him.

Grettir said nothing, but as his gaiter thong
became broken, he stopped and stooped to mend it.
Thorgils asked if they should wait for him.  Grettir
declined.

"Oh," said Biorn, "it is all nonsense.  It is a
pretence.  He means to have all the glory of
fighting the bear alone when we have gone on."

He said the truth, but he had no idea when he
spoke that it was the truth.

Grettir tarried till the party had crossed a hill
and was out of sight, then he turned and went back
to the bear's den.  He slipped his hand through the
loop at the end of the handle of his short sword
that he had taken from the grave of Karr the Old,
and let it hang on his wrist, but he held the long
sword, Jokull's gift, by the pommel.  His plan was
to use the long sword if needed, but if the bear
came to close quarters he would throw it down and
grasp the short one without having to put his hand
to his girdle for it.  Very cautiously he crept along
the path.  Bruin saw him, and was now angry and
hungry, and came down to meet him.  The bear
was somewhat above him; Grettir halted, and the
bear stood up growling on his hind-legs.

At once the long sword was whirled and fell on
the right wrist above the paw, and cut it off.  The
bear immediately fell down on all-fours; but the
amputated paw was on the side away from the wall of
rock, and when he went down on the stump he was
overbalanced, and came down with his whole weight
on Grettir.

Grettir let fall his long sword at once, and with
both hands grasped the brute's ears, and held his
head off lest he should get a bite at him.  Grettir,
in after years, was wont to say that this was the
hardest tussle he had in his life—it was even worse
than anything he had to do with the rovers.  For if
the beast had but been able to nip him on the
breast, or shoulder, or face with his great fangs, all
would have been up with him.  Moreover, the ears
were so smooth that he had to do his utmost not to
let them slip.  Grettir had the wit to drag back the
brute's head to the rock, and by so doing the bear
could not use his only uninjured fore-leg, armed
with terrible claws, which would have ripped
Grettir's clothes and flesh.

In the struggle the two went over the edge, and
for a moment Grettir thought, as they spun in the
air, that he was lost.  But the bear was heavier than
the lad, consequently he fell crash on the rocks at the
bottom first, and Grettir on him, breaking Grettir's
fall by his great body.  The bear's back was broken.

Then Grettir got up, shook himself, left the bear,
went up the path and found his fur coat torn to
tatters, and he put it about him, recovered also his
long sword, and took the cut-off paw of the bear.

He now went back to Thorgils' house, and when
he came into the hall where the fires were blazing,
every one laughed to see him in his tattered coat;
but when he gave the paw of the bear to Thorgils
the general merriment exchanged to surprise.  Biorn,
however, could not contain himself for vexation,
and launched forth some coarse jest that made
Grettir's blood tingle in his veins.

"Do not listen to him," said Thorgils.  "You are
a brave fellow, and there are not many your like."  Then
turning to Biorn, he said, "Kinsman, I advise
and warn you to keep a civil tongue in your head,
or you will come to rue it, and have to be taught
better manners."

"Oh, if I am to learn manners from Grettir, that
is sending me to a cub indeed!"

"I want to know," said Grettir, "whether you
threw my fur coat into the den?"

"I am not afraid of saying that I did."

"Will you give me another in its place?"

"I have not the smallest intention of doing charity
to beggars."

The braggart knew that Grettir was restraining
himself because he did not wish to quarrel with his
host's kinsman, and he took advantage of his
knowledge.  But Thorgils was greatly distressed and
ashamed, and he said to Grettir:

"Pay no attention to his words.  He has insulted
you, and I will pay you a fine in compensation
for his insult, that it may be buried and forgotten."

That was customary then.  When one had hurt
another in body or in honour by blow or foul word,
he was bound to pay a sum of money; if he did not
then the man injured was required by the laws of
honour to revenge the injury.

But when Biorn heard this proposal, he shouted
out that he would not suffer the matter to be so
compromised; he was not ashamed of his words.
Thorgils drew Grettir aside, and said to him that
his kinsman was a badly-behaved, brutal fellow,
but that he hoped Grettir would not take up the
quarrel in his house; and Grettir promised him
solemnly that he would not attempt to take revenge
for the rudeness of Biorn so long as they were both
inmates of his house.

"As for what may happen between you later,"
said Thorgils, "I wash my hands of responsibility.
If Biorn is offensive to those who have never hurt
him, he must take the consequences."

So matters remained; only that Biorn, presuming
on his position, became daily more arrogant, intolerable,
and abusive, so that Grettir had to exercise
daily self-restraint to keep his hands off him.  And
glad he was when spring came, that he might get
away to another part of Norway.

As for Biorn, he went in the summer to England
in a ship that belonged to Thorgils, trading there
for Thorgils and for himself.  Consequently, all that
summer he and Grettir did not meet.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE SLAYING OF BIORN`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE SLAYING OF BIORN.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Meeting on the Island—Biorn's Death—Thorfin
   Comes to Grettir's Aid—Grettir's Life in
   Danger—Hiarandi's Revenge—A Doomed Man*

.. vspace:: 2

Grettir left Thorgils very good friends, and he
went with some merchants to the north, but
when the summer was over he came back south, and
arrived at a little island in the entrance of the
Drontheim firth.  His intention was to see Earl Sweyn,
and perhaps take service under him; but if so,
things fell out other than he had reckoned.  For, as
he was in this island, there came in a large merchant
vessel from England, and Grettir and those with him
at once went to see the shipmen, and among them
was Biorn.  The ship was, in fact, that of Thorgils,
and it was laden with commodities bought in England,
or obtained by exchange for the wool, and furs,
and women's embroidery sent out in the spring by
Thorgils.

Directly Biorn saw Grettir he turned red, and
pretended not to recognize him; but Grettir went
to him at once and said:

"Now has come the time when we two can settle
our differences."

"Oh," said Biorn, "that is soon done.  I don't
object to paying a trifle."

"The time for paying is over," said Grettir.
"Thorgils offered an indemnity for your insolence,
and you refused to consent to it."

Then Biorn saw that there was no help for him
but that he must fight.  So he girded him for the
conflict, and he and Grettir went down on the sand,
and they fought.

The fight did not last long.  Grettir's sword cut
him that he fell and died.

When the news reached Thorgils, he got ready,
and came by boat as fast as he could to see the earl
at Drontheim.  He found the earl very angry, but
he said to him:

"I am a kinsman of the fallen man, and I know
that he treated Grettir with intolerable insolence,
and that he refused every compromise.  Then
remember what a benefit has been done to the
country by Grettir, who ridded it of the Red Rovers,
Thorir wi' the Paunch and Ogmund the Bad."

Thorfin also came to Drontheim when he heard
of the straits into which Grettir had come through
killing Biorn.  The earl called a council on the
matter, and said he would not come to a decision
till he had heard what Biorn's brother Hiarandi had
to say on the matter.  Hiarandi was a violent man,
and he was very wroth.  He would hear of no
patching up of the matter, and he vowed he would
not, as he expressed it, "bring his brother into his
purse."  As already said, it was customary when a
man had been killed to offer a sum of money to the
next of kin, and if he accepted the money the
quarrel was at an end.  When we now speak of
"pocketing an injury," reference is made to this
same ancient usage, by which every offence was
estimated at so much money, and if the wronged
man took money for the offence committed against
him, he was said *to pocket it*.  When the earl went
into the matter, and heard how Grettir had been
wronged and outraged by Biorn, he gave his
decision that Grettir had not acted contrary to law,
and that Biorn had justly forfeited his life.  Thorfin
offered the sum of money which the earl considered
was sufficient to atone to the relations for the death
of Biorn, but Hiarandi refused absolutely to touch it.

Then Thorfin knew that Grettir's life was in
danger, for Hiarandi would certainly try to take it;
so he begged his kinsman Arinbiorn to go about
with Grettir, and keep on the look-out against the
mischief that threatened.

Now it fell out one day that Grettir and
Arinbiorn were walking down a street in Drontheim
when their way led before a narrow lane opening
into it.  They did not see any danger in the way,
and were unaware of this lane.  But just as they
had passed it a man jumped out from behind, in the
shadow, swinging an axe, and he struck at Grettir
between the shoulder-blades.  Fortunately,
Arinbiorn had looked round at the lane, and he saw the
man leap out, so he suddenly dragged Grettir forward
with such a jerk that Grettir fell on his knee.
This saved his life, for the axe came on his shoulder-blade,
made a gash that cut to his armpit, and then
the axe buried itself in the roadway.  Instantly
Grettir started to his feet, turned round, and with
his short sword smote in the very nick of time as
the man, who was Hiarandi, was pulling up his axe
to cut at Grettir again.  Grettir's sword fell on his
upper arm near the shoulder, and cut it off.  Then
out rushed some servants of Hiarandi on Arinbiorn
and Grettir, who set their backs against a house-wall
and defended themselves with such valour that
they killed or put to flight all who had assailed
them.

Now, this had been a base and cowardly attempt
on the life of Grettir, and Hiarandi richly deserved
his fate.  But the earl was exceedingly angry when
he heard the news, and he called a council together.
Thorfin and Grettir attended, and the earl angrily
charged Grettir with having committed great
violence, and being the cause of the death of Hiarandi
and some of his servants.

Grettir acknowledged this; but showed his wound,
and stated how he had been attacked from behind;
how his life had been saved by the promptitude of
Arinbiorn, and how he had but defended himself
against enemies who sought his life.

"I wish you had been killed," said the earl, "and
then there would have been an end to these disorders."

"You would not have a man not raise his hands
to save his head?" said Grettir.

"I see one thing," exclaimed the earl.  "Ill luck
attends you, and you are doomed to commit
violences wherever you are."

The end of it was that Earl Sweyn said he would
not have Grettir to live in Norway any longer, lest
he should be the cause of fresh troubles.  But he
remained over the third winter, and next spring
sailed for Iceland, the time of his outlawing being
ended.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF GRETTIR'S RETURN`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER X.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF GRETTIR'S RETURN.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Iceland Once More—Life's Bitter Lessons—Grettir
   Pays Audun a Visit—Some Icelandic Terms—Byres
   and Sels—A Chief's Hall—The Return of
   Audun—Grettir's Second Wrestle with Audun—Bard
   Interposes—The Cousins Reconciled*

.. vspace:: 2

When Grettir came back to Biarg, he found his
father so old and infirm as to be no more
able to stir abroad, and Atli managed the farm for
him along with Illugi, Grettir's youngest brother,
now grown up to be a big boy.  Grettir was now
aged eighteen, but he looked and was a man.  Illugi
was about fifteen, a gentle, pleasant boy.  He and
the kindly, careful Atli were as unlike Grettir as
well could be; they avoided quarrels, they had a
civil word for every one, and took pains to make
themselves agreeable, whether to guests in their
house, or when staying anywhere, to their hosts.
Grettir never troubled himself to be courteous or
to be obliging to anyone.  Now that he was back
from Norway he was rather disposed to think much
of himself as a man more brave and audacious than
his fellows, for, had he not killed twelve rovers,
broken into a barrow, slain a bear, and been the
death of one man in a duel, and another who had
attempted to assassinate him?  Atli did not much
like his manner, and cautioned him not to be
overbearing whilst at home, lest he should involve
himself in fresh troubles.  But words were wasted on
Grettir.  He was not the fellow to listen to advice,
but one of those men who must learn the bitter
lessons of life by personal experience.  It is so with
men always.  Some, who are thoughtful, see what
God's law is which is impressed on all society, and
listen to what others have found out as the lessons
taught them by their lives, so they are able to go
out equipped against the trials and difficulties of
life.  But others will neither look nor listen, and
such have to go through every sort of adversity, till
they have learned the great truths of social life, and
perhaps they only acquire them when it is too late
to put them in practice.

It is with laws and courtesies of life as with the
three R's.  A man will fare badly who cannot read,
write, and cipher.  If he learns these accomplishments
as a child, he does well; he is furnished for
the struggle of life, and starts on the same footing
as other men; but if as a child he is morose and
indifferent, and refuses to learn, then all through
his life he is met with difficulties, owing to his
ignorance, and he finds that he must learn to read,
write, and do sums; and he has to acquire these in
after years with much less ease than he might have
learnt as a child, and after he has lost many chances
of getting on which might have been seized, had he
known these things before.

Grettir's temper on his return may be judged by
one incident that happened almost directly.  He
had not forgotten his struggle on the ice with his
cousin Audun, and he was resolved to have another
trial of strength with him.  So he had not been
home many days before he rode over the hill to
Audunstead in his best harness, and with a beautiful
saddle on his horse that had been given him by
Thorfin.  The time was that of hay, and he saw the
field round Audun's farm full of rich grass, ready to
be cut.  He took the bridle off his horse and turned
it into Audun's meadow.  This was not out of
thoughtlessness, but out of insolence, and was
intended to exasperate Audun.  In Iceland grass grows
very little, and only fit to be cut for hay round the
farms in what is called the *tun*, where it is richly
dressed with stable-dung.  Consequently hay is very
scarce and very precious.  The grass never grows
much longer than one's fingers, and so even in the
tun it is not plentiful.  He knocked at the door of
the farm and asked for his cousin, and was told that
Audun had gone to the highland *sel* to fetch curds,
and would be back later.  The *sel* was a farm on
the highland, only occupied in summer, when the
cattle were driven to the moors and hills to feed on
the grass there, and to save that in the lowlands
against winter.

Here a word or two must be said about Icelandic
names of places and people.  When Iceland was
colonized, those who first settled in the land and
built farms, called the places after their own names
in a great many cases; they called them so-and-so's
*stead*, or so-and-so's *by* or farm.  A *by* is the Scotch
byre, and in Icelandic is *bœr*, pronounced exactly
like the Scotch word.  Wherever, in the north and
east of England, Norse settlers came, there we find
names of places ending in the same way, and we
know that these were farms and dwellings of old
Norse settlers.  Thus in Northumberland, Yorkshire,
and Lincolnshire, are plenty of Norse place-names.
Near Thirsk is Thirkelby or Thorkel's-byre, near
Ripon is Enderby or Andrew's-byre.  Not only so,
but where there are high hills there we find also
*sels*, that is summer-farms, like the Alps to which
the cattle are driven in Switzerland.  Next as to
the names of people.  What is a little puzzling to
remember is the number of persons whose names begin
with Thor.  Thor, the god of thunder, was regarded
with the highest reverence by the Icelanders; they
thought of him even more than they did of Odin,
the chief god of all, who had one eye, and his one
fiery eye was the sun.  Thor was called the Redbeard,
and the aurora borealis was thought to be his
waving red-beard in the sky.  The thunderbolt they
regarded as his hammer.  To show their respect for
him, children were named after him: Thor-grim
means Thor's wrath; Thor-kel, Thor's kettle, in
which the sacrificial meat was cooked in offering to
Thor; Thor-gil was Thor's boy or servant; Thor-hall
was Thor's flint spear-head, and so on.  The
Northumbrian king, St. Osmund, takes his name
from the Hand of God, and the name is the same
as Asmund, the father of Grettir.  Oswald means the
elect of the god; in Icelandic the name would be
Aswald.

When Grettir found that Audun was from home,
he went into the hall and lay down on the bench
nearest the door.  The hall was dark.

The halls of the Icelandic chiefs were like bodies
of churches, and were divided into a nave with side
aisles; and were lighted by windows in a clere-story
that were covered with the skin of the lining of a
sheep's stomach, to let in light and keep out cold,
because they had no glass.  In the side aisles were
the beds of those who lived in the house, some with
doors and shutters, which could be fastened from
within; and a man in danger of his life would so
sleep.  He would go to bed, and then close himself
in and lock the shutters, that no one could get at
him when he was asleep.  The fires and benches
and tables were in the nave, or middle of the great
hall.  Over the partitions for the beds were hung
shields and swords and spears, and on grand
occasions hangings were put up all along the sides,
hiding the beds and berths in the side aisles.  The
arrangement in an Icelandic house at the present
day is much the same, only on a very much reduced
scale.  The people live and eat and sleep in the
same room, like the saloon-cabin of a ship, with the
berths round the walls.

Audun arrived in the afternoon with a horse that
carried curds in skins on its back; that is to say,
skins were made into bottles, as is still common in
Palestine.  When he saw that a horse with a saddle
on it was wandering about in his meadow, trampling
down the grass and eating it, he was very vexed;
and throwing one bottle of curd over his back, and
hanging another in front on his breast to counterbalance
it, he ran into the house to ask who had
done this.

The hall was dusky, and Audun's eyes were
accustomed to the bright summer-light.  As he entered
Grettir put out his foot; Audun did not see it, and
stumbled over it, fell on the skin of curds and burst
it.  Then he jumped up, very angry, and asked who
had played him this scurvy trick.  Grettir named
himself, and said he had come over about that
matter of the wrestle on the ice.  Audun, still very
irate, all at once stooped, picked up the burst skin,
and dashed it in Grettir's face, smothering him with
curds.  Then he threw down the other curd-bottle,
and began to wrestle with Grettir.  They swung up
and down the hall, kicking over the benches, now
upon the floor, then on the stone-paved fire-hearth
in the midst; then they crashed against the walls
and pillars of the bed-chambers, and as they did so
the shields and weapons hung over them clashed
like bells.  Some frightened servant-maids came in,
and ran out again in alarm, calling for aid.

Audun felt now that Grettir had outgrown him
in strength, but he would not give in; then they
slipped on the curd and both fell, parted for a
moment, rose, and flew at each other once more.
Again, up and down, banging, stumbling, writhing
in each other's arms, twisting legs round each other,
to try to trip each other up, and ever Grettir
bearing Audun backwards, but never wholly mastering
him.  Audun could not trust his cousin, for though
they were akin, and though he had not really done
him an injury, there was no telling to what a pitch
Grettir's blood might mount and blind him; so as
they wrestled, Audun took care to twist the short
sword out of Grettir's belt and throw it away.  As,
to do this, he had to disengage his hand from
Grettir's shoulder, he lost an advantage.  Grettir
managed to trip him, and throw him flat on his back.

At that moment, fortunately, a man, big, wearing
a red kirtle, and in full harness, entered the hall and
asked what was the meaning of the noise and fight?
As he did not receive an immediate answer, he came
to the rescue of Audun, and drew Grettir from him.

"We are only in play with each other," said Grettir.

"Rather rough play," said the man, "and likely
to end in tears rather than laughter."

"Who are you that interfere?" asked Grettir.

"My name is Bard."

Then Audun scrambled to his feet.

"What is the reason of this rough play?" asked Bard.

Then Grettir answered, by singing:

   |  "Prithee, Audun, will you say
   |  How, upon the ice one day,
   |  You to throttle did essay?
   |  Now, for that I this have done,
   |  On Audun honour I have won;
   |  Curds and wrestle make good fun."
   |

"Oh, I see," said Bard; "fighting out an old
grudge.  I have nothing to say against that.  Now,
shake hands, and be loving cousins again."

Audun held out his hand, and Grettir agreed to
let the matter end thus.  But he was dissatisfied,
and ever after bore Bard a grudge.  However, he
never again wrestled with Audun, and remained on
good terms with him.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE HORSE-FIGHT`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE HORSE-FIGHT.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Atli's Roan—The Coming Fight—Unfair
   Play—Grettir Retaliation—Smouldering Fire*

.. vspace:: 2

One of the rude and cruel sports that amused the
Icelanders in summer time was horse-fighting.
A smooth piece of turf was chosen, and was staked
round.  Into this inclosure two or sometimes more
horses were introduced, and a man attended each,
who urged on his own horse, armed with a goad.
By means of these goads the horses were stung to
madness, and attacked each other, biting each other
savagely.  Now, Atli had a beautiful roan, with a
black mane, which he and his old father were very
proud of.  Lower down the valley, near the sea,
was a farm called Mais, in which lived a bonder
named Kormak, and his brother; they had in their
house a man called Odd the Foundling, a sly,
captious fellow, who, like Grettir, made verses; but his
verses were not generally thought to be so good as
those of Grettir.  On the opposite side of the river
is a hot-spring; it is still hot, but not so hot as it
was in those days, when it boiled up and poured
forth a cloud of steam, and ran in a scalding rill
down to the river.  There was a convenient level
place near the river for a horse-fight, and it stood
above the water on one side rather steeply, so that
it needed only fencing on three sides.  Kormak had
a brown horse that fought well, and it was resolved
that autumn to have a fight between the horse of
Kormak and the roan of Atli.  Odd was to goad on
Kormak's brown, and Grettir offered himself to his
brother to run with the roan.  Atli did not much
like the proposal, as he feared Grettir's temper; but
he could not well decline his offer, so he said, "I
will consent, brother; only I pray you, be peaceable,
for we have to do with overbearing men, and it will
be very unfortunate if a broil should come of this."

"If they begin, I shall not run away," said Grettir.

"Not if they begin; but be very careful not to
provoke a quarrel."

"Quarrels come and are not made," said Grettir.

"That I do not hold," answered Atli.

The day of the horse-fight arrived, and the horses
were led to the place of contest.  They had been
fed up and groomed for the occasion, and each had
a band round his middle of colour, by which he who
went with the horse could hold, and the goad of each
was tied with a tuft of feathers at the head, stained
the same colour as the belt about the horse.

The two horses were introduced within the inclosure,
and were soon goaded into anger, and began
to plunge, and snort, and snap at each other.  The
by-standers outside the railing cheered and shouted,
and the horses seemed to understand that they were
to do their best; so they pranced about each other,
struck at each other, and tried to get round each
other so as to bite the flank.  At one moment the
roan bit the side of the brown, and held.  Odd ran
his goad into the horse of Grettir to make it let
go;—this was against the rules; he did it to save his
own horse from a terrible wound.  Grettir saw what
he did, but he said nothing.  Now the horses bore
towards the river, and were rearing and plunging close
to the edge, and the two men had much ado to hold
on.  Then Odd took the opportunity when Grettir's
back was turned to drive at him with his goad
between the shoulders, where was the great scar still
red, and only just fully healed, that he had received
from the axe of Hiarandi.  It was a cruel blow, and
this also was against all rule of fair play.

At that moment the roan reared, and instantly
Grettir ran under him, and struck Odd with such a
blow that he reeled back towards the water edge,
and in so doing dragged the brown horse he was
holding over the edge, and both went down into the
water together.  The river was very full with the
melted snows, and Odd was brought ashore with
difficulty.  It was found that three of his ribs were
broken; but whether with the blow dealt by Grettir,
or by his fall on the rock, or by the hoof of the horse
as it fell and struggled in the river, cannot be said;
but the party of Kormak, of course, charged Grettir
with having broken Odd's ribs with his stick, and
they flew to arms, and threatened the party from
Biarg.  However, the people of the nearest vales
and firths interfered, and no bloodshed ensued.  But
the men of Mais and of Biarg separated bearing
each other much ill-will, each charging the other
with having broken the laws of the sport.

Atli did not say what he felt, he was greatly
annoyed; but Grettir was less careful of his words, he
said that the matter was by no means ended, and
that he hoped there would be a meeting between
the men of Mais and the men of Biarg, and then—it
would not be a fight of horses, but of men; not a
biting of horses, but of sharp blades.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF THE FIGHT AT THE NECK`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF THE FIGHT AT THE NECK.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Desolate Moor—Grettir challenges Kormak—Oxmain
   comes on the Scene—Slow-coach taunts Grettir—Grettir's
   Vexation*

.. vspace:: 2

The next fiord on the west of that into which the
river that flowed past Biarg poured was called
the Ramsfirth, and at the head of it lived Grettir's
married sister.

In the following summer, that is in 1014, Grettir
paid his sister a visit; he had with him two servant-men
from Biarg, and he spent three days and nights
at his sister's.  Whilst there, news reached him that
Kormak, who had been away from Mais for a week
or two, was on his road home, and who was now
staying at a house called Tongue.  Grettir at once
made ready to depart, and his brother-in-law sent
two men with him, for it was not safe that Grettir
should have only two churls with him, as there was
ill blood between him and Kormak about that affair
of the horse-fight.

A high, long shoulder of desolate moor lies
between the Ramsfirth and the Westriver-dale, in
which is a confluent of the river that flows past
Biarg.  This shoulder rises to the north into a great
hump, called Burfell, and on the saddle is a little
lake.  A very fine view is obtained from this shoulder
of moor over the northern immense bay of Hunafloi,
towards the glaciers and mountains of that curious
excrescence of land that lies on the north-west of
Iceland.  I know exactly the road taken by Grettir on
this occasion, for I have ridden over it.  Along the top
of this shoulder the rocks are scraped by glaciers,
that must at one time have occupied the whole
centre of the island, and have slowly slidden down
into the firths on all sides.  Here, what is curious
is, that the rocks are furrowed, just as if carved with
a graving tool, in lines from south to north, showing
the direction from which the glaciers slipped down.
Now, on the slope of this bit of upland is a great
stone poised on a point, which I have seen.  Grettir
came to this stone, and spent a long time in trying
to upset it.  It is called Grettir's-heave to this day.
The men who were with him rather wondered at
him why he wasted time over this, instead of pushing
on.  But his sharp eye had noticed the party of
Kormak leaving Tongue, and he was bent on an
encounter.  He thought that if Odd had seen him
going over the hill he would make a lampoon about
him running away from his sister's house the moment
he heard that danger was threatening.  So he
determined to tarry till Kormak came up and fight
him.  He had not long to wait, for presently over
the top of the hill came Kormak with Odd and some
others.  Grettir at once rode to meet them, and
said, "Now we have our weapons on both sides, let
us fight like men of good birth, and not with sticks
as churls."

Then Kormak turned to his men and bade them
accept the challenge and fight.

Accordingly they ran at one another and fought.
Grettir bade his two serving-men stand behind his
back and defend that, and he, sweeping his
longsword from left to right, went forward against
Kormak.  Thus they fought for a while, and some
were wounded on both sides.

Now it so happened that at a rich farm in the
Ramsfirth-dale lived a well-to-do, and very strong
man, called Thorbiorn—that is, Thor's Bear—nicknamed
Oxmain.  He had ridden that day over
Burfell-heath, with a party, and was now returning.
As he came along he heard shouts and the clashing
of arms, so he quickened his pace, and presently
came in sight of the fighters.  He at once ordered
his men to dash in between the combatants.  But
by this time the passions of those engaged were so
furious that they would not be separated.  Grettir
sweeping his long-sword about him strode
forward, and the men of Kormak fell back before him.
Down went two of those who were with Kormak,
and one servant of Atli, Grettir's brother, was killed.

.. _`GRETTIR CHALLENGES KORMAK AND HIS PARTY`:

.. figure:: images/img-116.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: GRETTIR CHALLENGES KORMAK AND HIS PARTY.

   GRETTIR CHALLENGES KORMAK AND HIS PARTY.

Then Thorbiorn Oxmain raised his great voice
and roared out, that he and his party would take
sides against the first man who dealt another blow.
Grettir saw that it would hardly do if Thorbiorn
Oxmain brought all his force against him, so he gave
up the battle; but they did not part till every one
of those engaged was wounded, and two were killed
on one side, and one on the other.  Grettir was ill
pleased that the affray had ended in this manner,
and he felt resentment against Oxmain for his
interference.  Unfortunately, Oxmain's brother, who went
by the name of the Slow-coach, made fun of the
matter, and laughed about Grettir sneaking away
from the fight directly he saw that he was getting
the worst of it.  Whatever he said was reported at
Biarg, and, as may well be imagined, did not
improve Grettir's temper, or liking for Oxmain and
Slow-coach.  Nothing further occurred between him
and Kormak, probably he and Kormak were content
with the trial of strength that had taken place, and
were disinclined to renew a profitless contest.

Atli took no notice of the loss of his house-churl;
he desired peace, and not a stirring afresh of the
fires of discord.  To his peaceable behaviour it was
doubtless due that the quarrel with Kormak came
to an end.  But the vexation felt by Grettir against
Oxmain for his meddlesomeness, and against Slow-coach
for his gibes, rankled in his breast.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW GRETTIR AND AUDUN MADE FRIENDS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW GRETTIR AND AUDUN MADE FRIENDS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Audun's Pedigree—His relation to
   Grettir—Grettir's-heaves—In Willowdale—The
   Place called Tongue—A very strange Tale*

.. vspace:: 2

Grettir remained through the autumn at Biarg,
after the skirmish at the Neck, till September,
and then he thought he would ride away east and
see Audun again, with whom he had had that little
ruffle that was almost a quarrel, and which was
fortunately interrupted by the entrance of Bard.
Audun was a cousin, though not a near one, and
Grettir had no desire that any bad blood should
exist between kinsfolk.  Audun belonged to what
was called the Madpate family; for it had had in it
at least two who had been so odd in their ways that
folk said they were not quite right in their minds.
The relationship will easily be understood by a look
at the pedigree.  It will be remembered that old
Onund Treefoot, who had settled in Iceland, had to
wife secondly Thordis, an Icelandic woman, and his
son by her was Thorgrim Grizzlepate, and this
Thorgrim bought the estate and house of Biarg about the
year 935.  Onund Treefoot died in or about 920, and
then his widow Thordis married again a man called
Audun Skokull, and they had a son who was called
Asgeir, who settled in Willowdale, and either went
off his head or proved so queer in his ways that
folks called him Madpate.  This Madpate married
and had a son Audun, and a daughter Thurid who
married away west into a very good family; and
she had a son called Thorstein Kuggson, of whom
we shall hear more presently.  Audun of Willowdale's
son was Madpate the Second, and the lad
Audun who wrestled with Grettir and burst the
bottle of curds was the son of this Madpate the
Second.  Consequently the relationship to Grettir
was through Grettir's great-grandmother, and Audun
belonged to a generation younger than that of Grettir,
because Grettir was the son of Asmund's old age.
Moreover, Asmund's father Thorgrim had married
somewhat late in life, whereas all the Madpate
family had dashed into marriage at a very early
age.  Thus it came about that Grettir's great-grandmother
was Audun's great-great-grandmother, and
that, nevertheless, Audun was somewhat older than
Grettir.

Grettir rode straight up over the hill behind his
house.  Now this hill like the Neck, already
described, is rather curious, for on it are a number
of rocks that have been deposited by glaciers, and
not only so, but they have been dragged along by ice,
scratching the rocks over which they were driven
forward, and so these beds of rock are rubbed and
scored with lines made by the stones forced over
them by ice.  Above Biarg there is one large stone
that has scratched a deep furrow in the bed of rock
and then has stopped at the end of the furrow it had
itself scored.  This remarkable phenomenon tells us
of a time when the whole of the centre of Iceland
was covered with glaciers, like the centre of Greenland
now.  These glaciers slided down the slopes of
the hills, and were thrust along to the sea, where
they broke off and floated away as icebergs.

Nowadays folk in Iceland do not understand these
odd stones perched in queer places, which were
deposited by the ancient glaciers, and they call them
Grettir-taks or Grettir's-heaves.  So the farmer at
Biarg told me that the curious stone at the end of
the furrow in the bed of rock on top of the hill was a
Grettir-tak; it had been rubbed along the rock and
left where it stands by Grettir.  But I knew better.
I knew that it was put there by an ancient glacier
ages before Grettir was born, and before Iceland was
discovered by the Norsemen.  I have no doubt that
in Grettir's time this stone was said to have been
put there by some troll.  Afterwards, when people
ceased to believe in trolls, they said it was put there
by Grettir.

Grettir's ride led him by a pretty little blue lake
that lies folded in between high hills and has a
stream flowing from it into a very large lake near
Hop.  But he did not follow the stream down; he
crossed another hill, not very steep and high, and
reached his cousin's house at Audun stead in
Willowdale.  Now this valley took its name from the woods
of willows that grew in it when first settled, but
at the present day none remain; all have in course
of time been burnt for fuel, and except for scanty
grass the Willowdale is very dreary-looking.  We
may be sure that Iceland presented a much more
smiling and green appearance eight hundred or a
thousand years ago than it does at present.

When Grettir came to Willowdale, Audun received
him in a friendly manner, and Grettir made
him a present of a handsome axe he had.  He
remained with him some little while, and they talked
over old tales of Onund Treefoot and his doings, and
every shadow of rivalry and anger disappeared, so
that they parted at length in the best of tempers
and as true and affectionate cousins.

Audun would have desired to keep Grettir there
longer, but Grettir would not stay.  He desired to
get on to the head of Waterdale, where lived an
uncle of his called Jokull, his mother's brother, at
a place called Tongue.

So he rode away over the moor, and reached
Tongue.  Here a stream comes rushing through a
gorge in a series of waterfalls, and meets another
stream that comes down a valley called the Valley
of Shadows further east.

Tongue is so called because it lies on a grassy
slope exactly in the tongue of land between these
two streams.  There is now a good farm there and
a church, and there I stayed a few days.  At the
back of Tongue the hill rises rapidly to a fell called
Tongue-heath.  This hill was covered with snow
when Grettir arrived.  This uncle Jokull was glad
to see him.

He was a rough and violent man, very big and
strong; and it was clear to everyone that his
nephew took after his mother's family more than
his father's, for there was a strong likeness both in
build and face and in character between Jokull and
Grettir.

He received Grettir heartily in his rough, blunt
way, and bade him stay there as long as he liked.
Jokull had been a seafaring man, and had made
much by his merchant trips.  He would probably
have been a richer and more respected man had he
not been so violent and overbearing and ready to
pick quarrels.

Now Grettir had not been at Tongue three days
before he heard a very strange tale.  Jokull's mouth
was full of it, and with good reason, for the events
had taken place not an hour's ride distant.  It was
a tale about the nearest farm in the Valley of
Shadows, a farm called Thorhall's-stead, which was
reported to be haunted; and so serious had affairs
become there that no servants would remain, and
the farmer and his family had been driven from
house and home by the hauntings last winter, and
had come and lodged with Jokull at Tongue, and
he had entertained them for some two or three
months.  Now this was not a case of mere fancy
and fantastic fear.  It was something very real and
very marvellous.  But it is a long story, and must
be consigned to another chapter.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE VALE OF SHADOWS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE VALE OF SHADOWS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *A Turning-point in Grettir's Life—The Farm in
   the Valley—The haunted Sheep-walks—A
   strange-looking Fellow—"Here is my Hand"—Glam
   keeps Faith—Glam is missing—Following the Red
   Track—The Ghost of Glam—Glam's Successor—Thorgaut
   is Missing—From Bad to Worse—Fate of the old
   Serving-man—Thorhall's Perplexity—Grettir offers Aid*

.. vspace:: 2

We have come now to an incident which formed
a turning-point in Grettir's life.  It is a very
mysterious and inexplicable story, not one that can
be put aside as we have that of his fight in the tomb
with Karr the Old.  This is a story even more gruesome.
It relates to an event that so shook Grettir's
nerves that he never after could endure to be alone
in the dark, and would risk all kinds of dangers to
escape solitude.  How much of truth lies under this
strange narrative we cannot now say, but that something
really did take place is certain from the effect
it had on Grettir ever after.

The richest valley for grass in all this quarter of
Iceland, and the most peopled, is the Waterdale.
On the east rises a mountain ridge of precipitous
basaltic cliffs, down which leap waterfalls from the
snows above.  The river that flows through this
valley is fed by two main streams that unite at the
farm called Tongue.  The stream on the east rises
a long way inland in a mass of lava, and flows
through a valley so narrow and so gloomy that it
goes by the name of the Valley of Shadows.  The high
ranges of moor and waste to the south shut off the
southern sun, and the lofty banks of mountain to
east and west so close it in that it gets no sun
morning or evening.

A little way up this valley—not far, and not where
it is most gloomy—are now the scanty ruins of a
farm called Thorhall's-stead.  Above this the valley
so contracts and the hills are so steep that it is only
with great difficulty that a horse can be led along.
This I know very well; for in crossing an avalanche
slide my horse and I were almost precipitated into
the torrent below.  Further up the valley stands a
tongue of high land with a waterfall on one side and
the ravine on the other, and here at one time some
robbers had their fortress who were the terror of the
neighbourhood.  No trace of their fortress remains
at present, but it was to find this place that I
explored the valley.

In the farm that is now but a heap of ruins lived
a bonder named Thorhall and his wife.  He was not
a man of much consideration in the district, for
he was planted on cold, poor land, and his wealth
was but small.  Moreover, he had no servants;
and the reason was that his sheep-walks were
haunted.

Not a herdsman would remain with him.  He
offered high wages, he threatened, he entreated, all
in vain.  One shepherd after another left his service,
and things came to such a pass that he determined
to have the advice of the law-man or chief judge at
the next annual assize.

He saddled his horses and rode to Thingvalla.
Skapti was the name of the judge then, a man with
a long head, and deemed the best of men for giving
counsel.  Thorhall told him his trouble.

"I can help you," said Skapti.  "There is a
shepherd who has been with me, a rude, strange man,
but afraid of neither man nor hobgoblin, and strong
as a bull; but he is not very clear in his intellect."

"That does not matter," said Thorhall, "so long
as he can mind sheep."

"You may trust him for that," said Skapti.  "He
is a Swede, and his name is Glam."

Towards the end of the assize two gray horses
belonging to Thorhall slipped their hobbles and
strayed; so, as he had no serving-man, he went
after them himself, and on his way met a strange-looking
fellow, driving before him an ass laden with
faggots.  The man was tall and stalwart; his face
attracted Torhall's attention, for the eyes were ashen
gray and staring.  The powerful jaw was furnished
with white protruding teeth, and about his low brow
hung bunches of coarse wolf-gray hair.

"Pray, what are you called?" asked Thorhall, for
he suspected that this was the man Skapti had
spoken about.

"Glam, at your service."

"Do you like your present duties—wood-cutting?"
asked the farmer.

"No, I do not.  I am properly a shepherd."

"Then, will you come with me?  Skapti has
spoken of you and offered you to me."

"What are the drawbacks to your service?" asked
Glam cautiously.

"None, save that my sheep-walks are haunted."

"Oh! is that all?  Ghosts won't scare me.  Here
is my hand.  I will come to you before winter."

They separated, and soon after the farmer found
his horses; they had got into a little wood, and were
nibbling the willow tops.  He went home, having
thanked Skapti.

Summer passed, then autumn, and nothing further
was heard of Glam.  The winter storms began to
bluster up the valley from the cold Polar Sea, driving
the flying snowflakes and heaping them in drifts at
every turn of the vale.  Ice formed in the shallows
of the river, and the streams which in summer
trickled down the sides were now turned to icicles.
I was there the very end of June, and then the
whole of the mountain flank to the west was covered
with frozen streams spread like a net of icicle over
the black and red striped bare rock.

One gusty night a violent blow at the door startled
all in the farm.  In another moment Glam, tall and
wild, stood in the hall glowering out of his gray
staring eyes, his hair matted with frost, his teeth
rattling and snapping with cold, his face blood-red
in the glare of the fire that glowed in the centre of
the hall.

He was well received by Thorhall, but the housewife
did not like the man's looks, and did not welcome
him with much heartiness.  Time passed, and
the shepherd was on the moors every day with the
flock; his loud and deep-toned voice was often borne
down on the wind as he shouted to the sheep,
driving them to fold.  His presence always produced
a chill in the house, and when he spoke it sent
a thrill through the women, who did not like him.

Christmas-eve was raw and windy; masses of
gray vapour rolled up from the Arctic Ocean, and
hung in piles about the mountain tops.  Now and
then a scud of frozen fog, covering bar and beam
with feathery hoar-frost, swept up the glen.  As the
day declined snow began to fall in large flakes.

When the wind lulled there could be heard the
shout of Glam high up on the hillside.  Darkness
closed in, and with the darkness the snow fell thicker.
There was a church then at Thorhall's farm; there
is none there now, since the valley has been
abandoned from its cold and ill name.

The lights were kindled in the church, and every
snowflake as it sailed down past the open door burned
like a golden feather in the light.

When the service was over, and the farmer and
his party returned to the house, Glam had not come
home.  This was strange; as he could not live
abroad in the cold, and the sheep would also require
shelter.  Thorhall was uneasy and proposed a search,
but no one would go with him; and no wonder, it
was not a night for a dog to be out in, and the
tracks would all be buried in snow.  So the family
sat up all night listening, trembling and anxious.

Day broke at last faintly in the south over the
great white masses of mountains.  Now a party
was formed to search for the missing man.  A sharp
climb brought them to the top of the moor above
Tongue.  Here and there a sheep was found shivering
under a rock or half buried in a snowdrift, but
of Glam—not a sign.

Presently the whole party was called together
about a spot on the hilltop where the snow was
trampled and kicked about, and it was clear that
some desperate struggle had taken place there.
There the snow was also dabbled with frozen blood.
A red track led further up the mountain side, and
the searchers were following it when a boy uttered
a shriek of fear.  In looking behind a rock he
had come on the corpse of the shepherd lying on
its back with the arms extended.  The body was
taken up and carried to the edge of the gorge, and
was there buried under a pile of stones, heaped over
it to the height of about six feet.  *How* Glam had
died, *by whom* killed, no one knew, nor could they
make a guess.

Two nights after this one of the thralls who had
gone for the cows burst into the hall with a face
blank from terror; he staggered to a seat and
fainted.  On recovering his senses, in a broken voice
he assured those who were round him that he had
seen Glam walking past him, with huge strides, as
he left the stable door.  The shepherd had turned
his head and looked at him fixedly from his great
gray staring eyes.  On the following day a stable
lad was found in a fit under a wall, and he never
after recovered his senses.  It was thought he must
have seen something that had scared him.  Next,
some of the women, declared that they had seen
Glam looking in on them through a window of
the dairy.  In the dusk Thorhall himself met the
dead man, who stood and glowered at him, but
made no attempt to injure his master, and uttered
not a word.  The haunting did not end thus.
Nightly a heavy tread was heard round the house,
and a hand groping along the walls, and sometimes
a hand came in at the windows, a great coarse hand,
that in the red light from the fire seemed as though
steeped in blood.

When the spring came round the disturbances
lessened, and as the sun obtained full power, ceased
altogether.

During the course of the summer a Norwegian
vessel came into the fiord; Thorhall went on board
and found there a man named Thorgaut, who had
come out in search of work.  Thorhall engaged him
as a shepherd, but not without honestly telling him
his trouble, and what there was uncanny about his
sheep-walks, and how Glam had fared.  The man
did not regard this, he laughed, and promised to be
with Thorhall at the appointed season.

Accordingly he arrived in autumn, and he soon
established himself as a favourite in the house; he
romped with the children, helped his fellow-servants,
and was as much liked as his predecessor had been
detested.  He was such a merry careless fellow that
he did not think anything of the risks that lay
before him, and joked about them.

When winter set in strange sights and sounds
began to alarm the folk at the farm, but Thorgaut
was not troubled; he slept too soundly at night
to be disturbed by the heavy tread round the house.

On the day before Yule, as was his wont, Thorgaut
drove out the sheep to pasture.  Thorhall was
uneasy.  He said to him: "I pray you be careful,
and do not go near the barrow under which Glam
was laid."

"Don't fear for me," laughed Thorgaut, "I shall
be back in time for supper, and shall attend you to
church."

Night settled in, but no Thorgaut arrived.  There
was little mirth at table when the supper was
brought in.  All were anxious and fearful.

The wind was cold and wetting.  Blocks of ice
were driving about in the bay, grinding against
each other, and the sound could be heard far up the
valley.  Aloft, the aurora flames were lighting up
the heavens with an arch of fire.  Again this
Christmas night the dwellers in the farm sat up
and did not go to bed, waiting for the return of
Thorgaut, but he did not arrive.

Next morning he was sought, and was found
lying dead across the barrow of Glam, with his
spine and one leg and one arm broken.  He was
brought home and laid in the churchyard.

Matters now rapidly became worse.  Outbuildings
were broken into of a night, and their woodwork
was rent and shattered; the house door was violently
shaken, and great pieces of it were torn away; the
gables of the house were also pulled furiously to
and fro.

Now it fell out that one morning the only man
who remained in the service of the family went out
early.  Not another servant dared to remain in the
place, and this man remained because he had been
with Thorhall and with his father, and he could not
make up his mind to desert his master in his need.
About an hour after he had gone out Thorhall's
wife took her milking cans and went to the cow-house
that she might milk the cows, as she had now
not a maid in the house, and had to do everything
herself.  On reaching the door of the cow-house she
heard a terrible sound from within, the bellowing of
the cattle, and the deep bell-notes of an unearthly
voice.  She was so frightened that she dropped her
pails and ran back to the house and called her
husband.  Thorhall was in bed, but he rose
instantly, caught up a weapon, and hastened to the
cow-house.

On opening the door he found all the cattle loose
and goring each other.  Slung across the stone that
separated their stalls was the old serving-man,
perfectly dead, with his back broken.  He had,
apparently, been tossed by the cows, and had fallen on
this stone backwards.

Neither Thorhall nor his wife explained his death
in this way; they thought that Glam must have
been there, have driven the cattle wild, and that
just as he had broken the back of Thorgaut, so had
he now broken that of the poor old serving-man.

It was impossible for the bonder to remain longer
in that place; he and his wife therefore removed
down to Tongue, which lies at the junction of the
two rivers, and there things were quiet.  There he
was hospitably received by Jokull.  Thorhall was
able to persuade some of his runaway servants to
come back to him, but no man all that winter
would go near the moor where was the barrow of
the shepherd Glam.

Not till the summer returned, and the sun had
dispelled the darkness, did Thorhall venture back to the
Vale of Shadows.  In the meanwhile his daughter's
health had given way under the repeated alarms of
the winter; she became paler every day; with the
autumn flowers she faded, and was laid in the
churchyard before the first snowflakes fell.  What
was Thorhall to do through the winter?  He knew
that it was not possible for him to secure servants
if he remained on his own farm; besides, he did not
know what loss might come to his stock.  Then, he
could not spend the whole winter at Tongue, for
that was another bonder's house, and though the
farmer there had kindly received him and
entertained him for three months the winter before, he
could not ask him to give him houseroom to
himself, his cattle, and servants for a whole long
winter.

So he was in the greatest possible perplexity
what to do.  Help came to him from an unexpected
quarter.

Grettir had heard the story of the hauntings,
and he rode to Thorhall's farm and asked if he
might be accommodated there for the night.  He
said that it was his great desire to encounter Glam.

Thorhall was surprised, but not exactly pleased,
for he thought that the family at Biarg would
attribute the wrong to him were anything to happen
to Grettir.

Grettir put his horse into the stable, and retired
for the night to one of the beds in the hall and
slept soundly.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW GRETTIR FOUGHT WITH GLAM`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW GRETTIR FOUGHT WITH GLAM.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grettir awaits Glam—The Sound of Feet—Glam breaks
   into the Hall—A Strange Figure—Grettir seizes
   Glam—Grettir's Last Chance—Glam's Curse—The End
   of Glam—Was it True?*

.. vspace:: 2

Next morning Grettir went with Thorhall to
the stable for his horse.  The strong wooden
door was shivered and driven in.  They stepped
across it; Grettir called to his horse, but there was
no responsive whinny.  Grettir dashed into the
stall and found his horse dead; its neck was
broken.

"Now," said Thorhall, "I will give you a horse in
exchange for that you have lost.  You had better
ride home to Biarg at once."

"Not at all.  My horse has been killed, and I
must avenge it."  So Grettir remained.

Night set in.  Grettir ate a hearty supper, and
was right merry.  But not so Thorhall, who had
his misgivings.  At bed-time the latter crept into a
locked bedstead beside the hall; but Grettir said he
would not go into a bed, he would lie by the fire in
the hall.  So he wrapped himself up in a long fur
cloak and flung himself on a bench, with his feet
against the posts of the high seat.  The fur cloak
was over his head, and he kept an opening through
which he could look out.

There was a fire burning on the hearth, a smouldering
heap of glowing embers, and by the red light
Grettir looked up at the rafters of the blackened
roof.  The smoke escaped by a *louvre* in the middle.
The wind whistled mournfully.  The windows high
up were covered with parchment, and admitted
now and then a sickly yellow glare from the full
moon, which, however, shone in through the smoke
hole, silvering the rising smoke.  A dog began to
bark, then bay at the moon.  Then the cat, which
had been sitting demurely watching the fire, stood
up with raised back and bristling tail, and darted
behind some chests.  The hall-door was in a sad
plight.  It had been so torn by Glam that it had
to be patched up with wattles.  Soothingly the river
prattled over its shingly bed as it swept round the
knoll on which stood the farm.  Grettir heard the
breathing of the sleeping women in the adjoining
chamber, and the sigh of the housewife as she turned
in her bed.

Then suddenly he heard something that shook all
the sleep out of him, had any been stealing over his
eyes.  He heard a heavy tread, beneath which the
snow crackled.  Every footfall went straight to
Grettir's heart.  A crash on the turf overhead.
The strange visitant had scrambled on the roof, and
was walking over that.  The roofs of the houses in
Iceland are of turf.  For a moment the chimney
gap was completely darkened—the monster was
looking down it—the flash of the red fire illumined
the horrible face with its lack-lustre eyes.  Then
the moon shone in again, and the heavy tramp of
Glam was heard as he walked to the other end of
the hall.  A thud—he had leaped down.

Then Grettir heard his steps passing to the back of
the house, then the snapping of wood showed that
Glam was destroying some of the outhouse doors.
Presently the tread was heard again approaching
the house, and this time the main entrance.  Grettir
thought he could distinguish a pair of great hands
thrust in over the broken door.  In another moment
he heard a loud snap—a long plank had been torn
out of place, and the light of the moon shone in
where the gap had been made.  Then Glam began
to unrip the wattles.

There was a cross-beam to the door, acting as bolt.
Against the gray light Grettir saw a huge black arm
thrust in trying to remove the bar.  It was done,
and then all the broken door was driven in and
went down on the floor in shivers.  Now Grettir
could see a tall dark figure, almost naked, with wild
locks of hair about the head standing in the
doorway.  That was but for a minute, and then Glam
came in stealthily; he entered the hall and was
illumined by the firelight.  The figure Grettir now
saw was unlike anything he had seen before.  A few
rags hung from the shoulders and waist, the long
wolf-gray hair was matted.  The eyes were staring
and strange.  Grettir could hear Thorhall within his
locked bed trembling and breathing fast.

Presently Glam's eyes rested on the shaggy bundle
by the high seat.  He stepped towards it, and Grettir
felt him groping about him.  Then Glam laid hold
of one end of the fur cloak and began to pull at it.
The cloak did not come away.  Another jerk.  Grettir
kept his feet firmly pressed against the posts, so that
the fur was not pulled away.  Glam seemed puzzled;
he went to the other end of the bundle and began
to pull at that.  Grettir held to the bench, so that
he was not moved himself, but the fur cloak was
torn in half, and the strange visitant staggered back
holding the portion in his hand wonderingly before
his eyes.  Before he could recover from his surprise,
Grettir started to his feet, bent his body, flung his
arms round Glam, and driving his head into the
breast of the visitor, tried to bend him backward and
so snap his spine.  This was in vain, the cold hands
grasped Grettir's arms and tore them from their hold.
Grettir clasped them again about his body, and then
Glam threw his also round Grettir, and they began
to wrestle.  Grettir saw that Glam was trying to
drag him to the door, and he was sure that if he
were got outside he would be at a disadvantage, and
Glam would break his back.  He therefore made a
desperate effort not to be drawn forth.  He clung
to benches and posts, but the posts gave way, and
the benches were torn from their places.

At each moment he was being dragged nearer
to the door.  Sharply twisting himself loose, Grettir
flung his arms round a beam of the roof, for the hall
was low.  He was dragged off his feet at once.
Glam clenched him about the waist, and tore at him
to get him loose.  Every tendon in Grettir's breast
was strained; still he held on.  The nails of Glam
cut into his side like knives, then his hands gave
way.  He could endure the strain no longer, and
Glam drew him towards the doorway, in so doing
trampling over the broken fragments of the door,
and the wattles that lay about.  Grettir knew that
the last chance was come for saving himself.  Here,
in the hall, he could hold to posts and beams, and
so make some resistance; but outside he would have
nothing to cling to, and strong though he was, his
strength did not equal that of his opponent.

Now the door-posts were of stone, and the beam
that had served as bolt went across the door, slid
into a hollow on one side cut in the door-post, and
was pulled across and fitted into another hollow in
the other post.  As the wrestlers neared the opening,
Grettir planted both his feet against the stone
posts, one against each, and put his arms round
Glam.  He had the enemy now at an advantage;
but then, he merely held him, and could not hold him
so for ever.  He called to Thorhall, but Thorhall was
too greatly frightened to leave his place of refuge.

"Now," thought Grettir, "if I can but break his
back!" Then drawing Glam to him by the middle,
he put his head beneath the chin of his opponent
and forced back the head.  If he could only drive the
head far enough back he would break his neck.

At that moment one or both of the door-posts
gave way; down crashed the gable-trees, ripping
beams and rafters from their places, frozen clods of
turf rattled from the roof and thumped into the snow.

Glam fell on his back outside the door, and Grettir
on top of him.  The moon was, as I said before, at
her full; large white clouds chased each other across
the sky.  Grettir's strength was failing him, his hands
quivered in the snow, and he knew that he could
not support himself from dropping flat on the
mysterious and dreadful visitant, eye to eye, lip
to lip.

Then Glam said: "You have done ill matching
yourself with me; now know that never shall you be
stronger than you are to-day, and that, to your
dying day, whenever you are in the dark you will
see my eyes staring at you, so that for very horror
you will not dare to be alone."

At this moment Grettir saw his short sword in
the snow, it had slipped from his belt as he fell.
He put out his hand at once, clutched the handle,
and with a blow cut off Glam's head, and at once
laid it beside his thigh.

Thorhall came out at this juncture, his face
blanched; but when he saw how the fray had
ended, he joyfully assisted Grettir to roll the dead
man to the top of a pile of faggots that had been
collected for winter fuel.  Fire was applied, and
soon far down the Waterdale the flames of the pyre
startled folks, and made them wonder what new
horror was being enacted in the Vale of Shadows.

Next day the charred bones were conveyed a
long way—some hours' ride—into the great desert
in the interior, and in one of the most lonely spots
there a cairn or pile of stones was heaped over them.
I have seen this mound, which is still pointed out
as that under which the redoubted Glam lies.

And now we may well ask, what truth is there
in the story?  That there is a basis of truth can
hardly be denied.  The facts have been embellished,
worked up, but not invented.  The only probable
explanation of the story is this.

As already said, further up the valley, in a spot
difficult to be reached, stood the old fortress of some
robbers, with many caves in the sandstone about it
very convenient for shelter.  Now, it is not
improbable that some madman may have taken refuge in
this safe retreat, and may have come out at night
in search of food, and carried off the sheep of
Thorhall.  It may be that Glam caught him attempting
to steal a sheep, and fought with him, and was
killed, and that in like manner Thorgaut was killed.
Then when people saw a great wild man wandering
about they thought it was Glam, whereas it was
the man who had haunted the region before Glam
came there, and had killed Glam.  This is the
simplest and easiest explanation of this wild and
fearful tale.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW GRETTIR SAILED TO NORWAY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW GRETTIR SAILED TO NORWAY.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Olaf the Saint—Slowcoach with the Nimble
   Tongue—Slowcoach insults Grettir—Ill Words—Death
   of Slowcoach—In Search of Luck*

.. vspace:: 2

Early in the spring of the year 1015, news
reached Iceland of a change of rulers in
Norway.  Olaf Harald's son, commonly known as Olaf
the Saint, had come to be King of Norway; Earl
Sweyn had been defeated in battle and driven out of
the country.  Now Grettir was remotely connected
with the king, that is to say, his father's grandfather
was brother to the grandfather of Asta, Olaf's
mother.  The cousinship was somewhat distant; but
in those days folk held to their kin more than they
do now.  Grettir thought that a good chance had
opened to him for doing well in Norway, so he
resolved to leave Iceland, and enter the service of
his relative, the king.  There was a ship bound for
Norway lying in Eyjafiord, and Grettir engaged a
berth in her, and made ready for the voyage.

Now his father Asmund was very old and feeble,
and was well nigh bedridden.  He had given over
the entire management of the farm to his eldest son
Atli, and to young Illugi, who was a few years
younger than Grettir.  Atli was everywhere liked,
he was such a prudent, peaceable, and kindly man.

Grettir's ill-luck still followed him; for, as it
chanced, Thorbiorn, the Slowcoach, the relation of
Thorbiorn Oxmain, had resolved to go to Norway
also, and in the same ship.  Now the Slowcoach
may have been overslow in his movements, but
he was overnimble with his tongue, and he was
strongly advised either not to go in the same boat
with Grettir, or, if he did, to mind his words.

Such advice was thrown away on the Slowcoach,
who, instead of practising caution, in order to show
himself off, began to brag of his strength, and to say
scurvy things of Grettir, which were duly reported
by tale-bearers to Grettir.  Consequently, when
Grettir arrived in the Eyjafiord with his goods, he
was not very amiably disposed towards the
Slowcoach.  However Atli had impressed on him the
necessity of controlling himself, and Grettir was
resolved not to quarrel with the man unless he
could not help it.

At the side of the shore, those who were about to
sail had run up booths and cabins for themselves
and their stores.  Many of those going in the boat
were chapmen, and they took with them goods with
which to traffic in Norway.

Just as the vessel was ready, and about to sail
next day, Slowcoach arrived, slow as usual, and after
every one else was ready, and their goods on board.
As it was the last evening on shore, all the
merchants and seamen were sitting about their booths,
when Thorbiorn Slowcoach arrived, and rode along
the lane between the wooden cabins.  The men
shouted to him to know if he had any news to
tell them.

Thorbiorn's eye caught that of Grettir, who was
sitting on a bench, and he answered, "I don't hear
any news, except that the old idiot Asmund of
Biarg is dead."

This was not true; the old man was not dead, but
very ill.  Some of those who heard him said, "That
is sad news indeed, for he was a worthy and
honourable old man, and he could ill be spared."

"I don't know that," said Thorbiorn with a
scornful laugh.

"But how did he die?  What did he die of?"

"Die of?" repeated the Slowcoach loud enough to
be heard by Grettir.  "Smothered like a dog in the
poky little kennel they call their hall at Biarg.  As
for any loss in him, it is news to me that the world
is not well rid of dotards."

"These are ill words," said those who heard him.
"No good man will speak slightingly of old and
blameless chiefs.  Besides, such words as these
Grettir will not endure."

"Grettir!" scoffed Thorbiorn.  "Before I face him
I must see him use his weapons better than he did
last summer, when engaged with Kormak.  Then I
put my elbow between them, and Grettir was but
too ready to accept the interference.  I never saw a
man before so shake in his shoes."

Thereat Grettir stood up, and controlling himself,
said, "If I have any faculty of foresight, Slowcoach,
I see that you will not be smothered with smoke
like a dog.  You should have done other than speak
foul words of very aged men.  Gray hairs deserve
respect."

"I don't think more of your foresight than I do
of the wisdom of your old fool of a father," said
Thorbiorn.

The end was that they fought.  The insult was
too gross to be endured, and Grettir felt it
incumbent on him to strike for his father's honour.  The
fight did not last long; the Slowcoach was slow in
his fighting, slow of hand, only not slow of tongue,
and Grettir's sharp sword wounded him to death.

Slowcoach was buried in the nearest churchyard;
and the chapmen gave Grettir credit for having
restrained himself as long as possible, and allowed
that, according to the ideas of the time, he was
justified in fighting and killing the Slowcoach for his
spiteful and strife-provoking words.  But Grettir
was not pleased, he regretted the contest, because
he knew that it left occasion of strife behind, which
might occasion Atli trouble.  Thorbiorn Oxmain
would, lie feared, be sure to take up the quarrel, and
then Atli would have to pay a heavy fine in silver
to atone for the death.

The vessel set sail, and reached the south of
Norway.  There Grettir took ship in a trading keel, to
go north to Drontheim, because he heard that the
king was there, and his heart beat high with hopes
that Olaf would acknowledge him as a cousin, and
would take him into his body-guard, and treat him
with honour; and that so, though he had had
ill-luck in Iceland, good luck might attend him in
Norway.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE HOSTEL-BURNING`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE HOSTEL BURNING.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Aground in the Fiord—The Light over the Water—Grettir
   Swims Across—The Fight for Fire—The Burned Hostel—At
   Drontheim*

.. vspace:: 2

There lived a man named Thorir at Garth in
Iceland who had spent the summer in Norway
when Olaf returned from England, and he had stood
in great favour with the king.  He had two sons,
and at this time both were well-grown men.

Thorir left Norway for Iceland, where he broke up
his ship, not intending again to go a seafaring.
But when he heard the tidings that Olaf was king
over the whole of Norway, then he deemed it would
be well for his sons to go there and pay their respects
to the king, and remind him of his old friendship
for their father.

On reaching Norway much about the same time
as had Grettir, they took a long rowing-boat, and
skirted the coast on their way north to Drontheim.
They preceded Grettir by a few days.  On reaching
a fine fiord, in which there was shelter from the gales
that began to bluster violently with the approach of
winter, the sons of Thorir ran in their boat, and as
there was a large wooden hostelry there built for the
shelter of weather-bound travellers, they took refuge
in it, and spent their days in hunting and their
nights in revelry.

Now it so fell out that Grettir's merchant ship
came into this same fiord one evening and ran
aground on the opposite shore to that on which was
the hostel.  The night was bitterly cold; storms of
snow drove over the country, whitening the
mountains.  The men from the ship were worn out
and numbed with cold, and they had no means of
kindling a fire.  Then, all at once, they saw a light
spring up on the opposite side of the firth, twinkling
cheerfully between the trees.  This was a sight
to make them more eager for a fire, and they began
to wish that some one of their number would swim
across and bring over a light.

"In the good old times there must have been men
who would have thought nothing of swimming across
the streak of water at night," said Grettir.

"No comfort to us to know that," said one of the
crew.  "It does not concern us what may have been
in the past, we are shivering in the present.  Why
do you not get us fire?"

Grettir hesitated.  The night was very like that
on which he had fought with Glam: the same full
moon, with snow-laden clouds rolling over its face
for a while obscuring it, and then the full glare falling
over the face of earth again; and, unaccountably, a
sense of doubt and depression had come over him,
as though that evil adversary were now about to
revenge his downfall upon him.  He looked round
suddenly, for he thought that the fearful eyes were
staring at him from out of the black shadows of the
fir-wood.

The rest of the crew united in urging him, and at
length, reluctantly, Grettir yielded.  He flung his
clothes off, and prepared himself to swim.  He had
on him a fur cape, and a pair of wadmal breeches.
He took up an iron pot, and jumped into the sea
and swam safely across.

On reaching the further shore, he shook the water
off him, but before long his trousers froze like boards,
and the water formed in icicles about the cape.
Grettir ascended through the pine-wood towards the
light, and on reaching the hostel from which it
proceeded, walked in without speaking to anyone, and
striding up to the fire, stooped and began to scrape
the red-hot embers into his iron pot.  The hall was
full of revellers, and these revellers were the sons of
Thorir and their boat's crew.  They were already
more than half intoxicated, and when they saw a
wild-looking man enter the hall, half naked and
hung with icicles, they thought he must be a troll
or mountain-spirit.

At once every one caught up the first weapon to
hand, and rushed to the attack.  Grettir defended
himself with a fire-brand plucked from the hearth;
the sons of Thorir stumbled over the fire, and the
embers were strewn about over the floor that was
covered with fresh straw.

In a few moments the hall was filled with flame
and smoke, and Grettir took advantage of the
confusion to effect his escape.  He ran down to the
shore, plunged into the sea and swam across.

He found his companions waiting for him behind
a rock, with a pile of dry wood which they had
collected during his absence.  The cinders were
blown upon, and twigs applied, till a blaze was
produced, and before long the whole party sat
rubbing their almost frozen hands over a cheerful
fire.

Next morning the merchants recognized the fiord,
and, remembering that a hostel stood on the further
side, they crossed the water to see it, when—what
was their dismay to find of it only a heap of smoking
embers!  From under some of the charred timber
were thrust scorched human limbs.  The chapmen,
in alarm and horror, turned upon Grettir and
charged him with having maliciously burned the
house with all its inmates.

"See, now," said Grettir, "I had a thought that
this expedition would not bring luck.  I would I
had not taken the trouble to get fire for such a set
of thankless churls."

The ship's crew raked out the embers, pulled aside
the smoking rafters, in their search for the bodies.
Some of these were not so disfigured but that they
could recognize them.  Moreover, they knew the ship
that lay at anchor under the lee, hard by, and they
saw that Grettir had brought the sons of Thorir to
an untimely end.  The indignation of the merchants
became so vehement, and their fear so great that they
might be implicated in the matter, that they drove
Grettir from their company, and refused to receive
him into their vessel for the remainder of their
voyage.  Grettir, in sullen wrath, would say no
word of self-defence; he had to make his way on
foot to Drontheim, where he resolved to lay the
whole matter before the king.

The vessel reached Drontheim before him, and
the news of the hostel burning roused universal
indignation against Grettir.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ORDEAL BY FIRE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE ORDEAL BY FIRE.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grettir tells his Story—Preparing for the Ordeal—The
   Procession—Attacked by the Mob—The King
   Intervenes—Wicked or Unlucky*

.. vspace:: 2

One day, as King Olaf sat in audience in his great
hall, Grettir strode in, and going before his
seat, greeted the king.  Olaf looked at him and said:

"Are you Grettir the Strong?"

He answered: "That is my name, and I have
come hither, kinsman, to get a fair hearing, and to
clear myself of the charge of having burned men
maliciously.  Of that I am guiltless."

King Olaf replied: "I heartily trust that what
you say is true, and that you will be able to rid
yourself of a charge so bad."

Grettir replied that he was ready to do whatsoever
the king desired, in order to prove his innocence.

Then said the king to him, "Tell me the whole
story, that I may be able to judge."

Grettir answered by relating the circumstances.
He had simply taken fire from the hearth, when he
was fallen upon by those who were drinking, and
who were too tipsy to understand his explanation.
He went away with the red-hot embers, and did not
set fire to anything, but the drunken men kicked the
glowing coals about amidst the straw.

The king remained silent some moments, and then
he said: "There are no witnesses either on your behalf
or against you.  No man was by who is not dead.
God and his angels alone know whether you speak
the truth or not, therefore I must refer you to the
judgment of God."

"What must I do?" asked Grettir.

"You will have to go through the ordeal of fire,"
said the king.

"What is that?" asked the young man.

"You must lift bars of red-hot iron, and walk
with bare feet on ploughshares heated red in a
furnace."

"And what if I am burnt?"

"Then will you be adjudged guilty."

Grettir shrugged his shoulders: "If it must be
so, let it be at once; but whether I be burnt or not,
I declare that I am clear of all intent to hurt those
men."

"You cannot undergo the ordeal now," said the
king.  "You would be burned to a certainty.  You
must go through preparation first."

"What preparation?"

"A week of fasting and prayer," was the reply.

Then Grettir was taken away and put in ward,
and fed with bread and water for a week, and the
bishop visited him and taught him to pray that if
he were innocent, God would reveal his innocence
by enabling him to pass unscathed through the
ordeal.

The day came, and Drontheim was thronged with
people from all the country round, to see the
Icelander of whom such tales were told.  A procession
was formed; first went the king's body-guard
followed by the king himself, wearing his crown,
then came the bishop, the choir, and the clergy, and
last of all Grettir, his wild red hair flying loose in
the breeze, his arms folded, and his eyes wandering
over the sea of heads that filled the square before
the cathedral doors.  The crowd pressed in closer
and closer.  Opinions differed as to whether he
were guilty or not.  Among the mob was a
young man of dark complexion, who made a great
noise, shouldering his way to the front, and shouting.

"Look at the fellow!" he exclaimed.  "This is the
man who, in cold blood, burnt down a house over
helpless men, and now he is to be given u chance of
escape."

"But he says he is guiltless," argued one in the
crowd.

"Guiltless!" exclaimed the youth.  "If one of us
had done the deed, should we have been trifled
with?  The king wants him for his body-guard,
because he is so strong."

"He should be given a chance of clearing
himself," said one who stood near.

"Yes—of course—because he is a kinsman of the
king.  So the irons have been painted red, to look
as if hot.  I know how the trick is done.  But he
shall not escape me."

Thereupon the young man sprang at Grettir and
drove his nails into his face so that they drew blood;
at the same time he poured forth against him a
stream of insulting names.

This was more than the Icelander could bear; he
caught the young man, as a cat catches a mouse,
held him aloft, shook him, and then threw him
away, when he fell on the ground and was stunned.
It was feared he might be killed.  This act gave
occasion to a general uproar; the mob wanted to
lay hands on Grettir; some threw stones, others
assaulted him with sticks; but he, planting his
back against the church wall, turned up his sleeves,
guarded off the blows, shouting to his assailants to
come on.  Not a man came within his reach but
was sent reeling back or was felled to the ground.
In the meantime the king and the bishop were in
the choir waiting.  The red-hot ploughshares which
had been laid on the pavement were gradually
cooling, but no Grettir appeared.

.. _`GRETTIR DEFENDS HIMSELF FROM THE MOB`:

.. figure:: images/img-165.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: GRETTIR DEFENDS HIMSELF FROM THE MOB.

   GRETTIR DEFENDS HIMSELF FROM THE MOB.

At last the sounds of the uproar reached the
king's ear, and he sent out to know the occasion.
His messenger returned a moment after to report
that the Icelander was fighting the whole town and
had knocked down and well nigh killed several
persons.  The king thereupon sprang from his throne,
hastened down the nave, and came out of the
great western door when the conflict was at its
height.

"Oh, sire," exclaimed Grettir, "see how I can
fight the rascals!" and at the word he knocked a
man over at the king's feet.

With difficulty the tumult was arrested, and
Grettir separated from the combatants; and then
he wanted to go with the king and try the ordeal
of fire.

"Not so," answered Olaf, "you have already
incurred sin.  It is possible that some of those you
have knocked down may never recover, so that their
blood will lie at your door."

"What is to be done?" asked Grettir.

The king considered.

"I see you are a very wicked or at all events a
very unlucky man.  When you were here before
you were the occasion of several deaths.  I do not
desire to keep you in Norway, but as winter has set
in you may tarry here till next spring, and then
you shall be outlawed and return to Iceland."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE WINTER IN NORWAY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE WINTER IN NORWAY.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *At Einar's Farm—The Bearsarks—A Visit from
   Snœkoll—The Bearsark's Demand—Grettir
   Temporizes—The Bearsark has a Fit—Death
   of Snœkoll—Dromund's History—Grettir's
   Arms—A Pair of Tongs*

.. vspace:: 2

King Olaf had decided that Grettir must
leave Norway and return to Iceland.  If he
was not a guilty man he was a most unfortunate
one.  Now, the Norse race, whether in Denmark,
Norway, Sweden, or Iceland, believed in luck.  They
said that certain men were born to ill-luck, and
such men they avoided, because they feared lest the
ill-luck that clung to them might attach itself
to, and involve those who came in contact with them.

It was not possible for Grettir to return that year
to Iceland, for all the ships bound for his native
land had sailed before winter set in, so King Olaf
agreed to allow him to remain in the kingdom
through the winter, but bound him to depart on the
first opportunity next year.

Somewhat sad at heart with disappointment, and
with the impression that perhaps Olaf the king was
right, and that ill-luck really did weigh on him,
Grettir left the court, and went at Yule to the
house of a bonder or yeoman called Einar, and
remained with him awhile.  The farm was in a
lonely place in a fiord opening back to the snowy
mountains.  Einar was a kindly man, hospitable,
and he did his best to make Grettir's stay with him
pleasant.  He had a daughter, a fair, beautiful girl,
with blue eyes, and hair like amber silk, and her
name was Gyrid.  Perhaps the beautiful Gyrid was
one attraction to Grettir, but if so he never spoke
what was on his heart, because he knew it would
be useless.  He was an unlucky man; he had made
himself a name, indeed, as one of great daring, but
he had won for himself neither home, nor riches,
nor favour.

Now it fell out that at this time there were some
savage ruffians in the country who were called
Bearsarks.  They were outlaws in most cases, and
they lived in secret dens in the dense forests, whence
they issued and swooped down on the farms, and
there challenged the bonders to fight with them, or
to give up to them whatever they needed.  These
ruffians wore bear-skins drawn over their bodies,
and they thrust their heads through the jaws of the
beasts, so that they presented a hideous and
frightening appearance.  Then they worked themselves
into paroxysms of rage, when they were like madmen;
they rolled their eyes, they roared and howled
like wild beasts, and foam formed on their mouths
and dropped on the ground.  They were wont also,
when these fits came on them, to bite the edges of
their shields, and with their fangs they were known
to have dinted the metal quite deep.  Some folks
even said they had bitten pieces out of solid shields.
It was usually supposed that these Bearsarks were
possessed by evil spirits, and it is probable that in
many cases they were really mad—mad through
having given way to their violent passions, till they
knew no law, and thought to carry everything
before them by their violence.  It was even at one
time thought by the superstitious that they could
change their shapes, and run about at will in the
forms of bears or wolves; but this idea grew out of
the fact of their clothing themselves in bear or wolf
skins, and drawing the skull of the beast over their
heads as a rude helmet, and looking out through
the open jaws that thus formed a visor.

One day, just after Yule, to the terror and dismay
of Einar, one of the most redoubtable of these
Bearsarks, a fellow called Snœkoll, came thundering up
to his door on a huge black horse, followed by three
or four others on foot, all clothed in skins; but
Snœkoll, instead of wearing the bear's skin over
his head, had on a helmet with great tusks of a
boar protruding from it, and a boar's head drawn
over the metal.

It is worth remark that the crests worn later by
knights, and which we have still on our plate and
on harness, are derived from similar adornments
to helmets.  Some warriors put wings of eagles on
their head-pieces, others put the paws of bears or
representations of lions.  These were badges of their
prowess, or marks whereby they might be known.

Snœkoll struck the door of the farmhouse with
his spear, and roared to the owner to come forth.
At once Einar and Grettir issued from the hall, and
Einar in great trepidation asked the Bearsark what
he wanted.

"What do I want?" shouted Snœkoll.  "I want
one of two things.  Either that you give me up your
beautiful daughter to be my wife, and with her
five-score bags of silver, or else that you fight me here.
If you kill me, then luck is yours.  If I kill you,
then I shall carry off your daughter and all that
you possess."

Einar turned to Grettir and asked him in a
whisper what he was to do.  He himself was an old
man whose fighting days were over, and he had no
chance against this savage.

Grettir answered that he had better consult his
honour and the happiness of Gyrid, and not give
way to a bully.  The Bearsark sat on his horse
rolling his eyes from one to another.  He had a
great iron-rimmed shield before him.

Then he bellowed forth: "Come!  I am not going
to wait here whilst you consider matters.  Make
your selection of the two alternatives at once.
What is that great lout at your side whispering?
Does he want to play a little game of who is master
along with me?"

"For my part," said Grettir, "the farmer and I
are about in equal predicament; he is too old to
fight, and I am unskilled in arms."

"I see!  I see!" roared Snœkoll.  "You are both
trembling in your shoes.  Wait till my fit is on
me, and then you will shake indeed."

"Let us see how you look in your Bearsark fit,"
said Grettir.

Then Snœkoll waxed wroth, and worked himself
up into one of the fits of madness.  There can be
no doubt that in some cases this was all bluster and
sham.  But in many cases these fellows really roused
themselves into perfect frenzies of madness in which
they did not know what they did.

Now Snœkoll began to bellow like a bull, and to
roll his eyes, and he put the edge of the great
shield in his mouth and bit at it, and blew foam
from his lips that rolled down the face of the shield.
Grettir fixed his eyes steadily on him, and put his
hands into his pockets.  Snœkoll rocked himself on
his horse, and his companions began also to bellow,
and stir themselves up into madness.  Grettir, with
his eye fixed steadily on the ruffian, drew little by
little nearer to him; but as he had no weapon, and
held his hands confined, Snœkoll, if he did observe
him, disregarded him.  When Grettir stood close
beside him and looked up at the red glaring eyes,
the foaming lips of Snœkoll, and heard his howls
and the crunching of his great teeth against the
strong oak and iron of the shield, he suddenly
laughed, lifted his foot, caught the bottom of the
shield a sudden kick upwards, and the shield with
the violence of the upward shock broke Snœkoll's
jaw.  Instantly the Bearsark stopped his bellows,
let fall the shield, and before he could draw his
sword Grettir caught his helmet by the great boar
tusks, gave them a twist, and rolled Snœkoll down
off his horse on the ground, knelt on him, and with
the ruffian's own sword dealt him his death-blow.

When the others saw the fall of their chief they
ceased their antics, turned and ran away to hide in
the woods.

The bonder, Einar, thanked Grettir for his
assistance, and the lovely Gyrid gave him also her
grateful acknowledgments and a sweet smile; but
Grettir knew that a portionless unlucky man like
himself could not aspire to her hand, and feeling
that he was daily becoming more attached to her,
he deemed it right at once to leave, and he went
away to a place called Tunsberg, where lived his
half-brother, Thorstein Dromund.

Now, to understand the relationship of Dromund
to Grettir, you must know that his father, Asmund,
had been twice married.  He had been in Norway
when a young man with a merchant ship, and he
had also gone with his wares to England and
France, and had gained great wealth; and as he
had many relations in Norway he was well received
there in winter, when he came back from his
merchant trips.  On one of these occasions he had met
a damsel called Ranveig, whose father and mother
were dead.  She was of good birth, and was wealthy.
Asmund asked for her hand and married her, and
settled on the lands that belonged to her in Norway.
They had a son called Thorstein, who, because he
was rather slow of speech and manner, was
nicknamed Dromund; but as we meet with other
Thorsteins in this story, to prevent confusion we will
speak of him as Dromund.

After a while Asmund's wife Ranveig died, and
then her relatives insisted on taking away all her
lands and possessions and keeping them in trust for
little Dromund.  Asmund did not care to quarrel
with them, so he left Dromund with his late wife's
relatives and went home to Iceland, where, after a
few years, he married Asdis, and by her became the
father of Atli, Grettir, and Illugi, and of two
daughters, one of whom he named after his first wife.

Dromund grew up in Norway on his estates at
Tunsberg, and became a man of wealth and renown,
a quiet man, but one who held his own, and was
generally respected.

Now Grettir went to him, and his half-brother
received him very affectionately, and insisted on
his remaining with him all the rest of the winter
till it was time for him to sail to Iceland.

One little incident is mentioned concerning that
time that deserves to be recorded.

Grettir slept in the same apartment as did his
brother.

One morning Dromund awoke early, and he saw
how that Grettir's arms were out of bed, and he
wondered at their size.

Presently Grettir awoke, and then Dromund said
to him: "Grettir, I have been amused with looking
at your bare arms.  What muscles you have got!
I never saw the like."

"I need strong muscles to do what I have to do."

"True enough, brother," said Dromund.  "But I
could wish there were a little more luck as well as
muscle attached to those bones."

"Let me look at your arms," said Grettir.

Then Dromund put his arms out of bed, and
when he saw them Grettir burst out laughing, for
they were so thin and scraggy.

"Upon my word, brother, I never saw such a
wretched pair of tongs in my life," he said.

"They may be a pair of tongs, old boy," answered
Dromund, "but they are tongs that shall ever be
extended to help you when in need.  And," added
Dromund in a lower tone, "if it should ever befall
you that your ill-luck should overmaster you, and
you not die in your bed; then, Grettir, I promise
you, if I am alive, that I shall not let this pair of
tongs rest till, with them, I have avenged you."

No more is related of their talk together.  The
spring wore on, and in summer Grettir took ship.

The brothers parted with much affection, and
they never again saw each other's face.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF WHAT BEFELL AT BIARG`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF WHAT BEFELL AT BIARG.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Thorbiorn's Servant—Ali at Biarg—Seeking a
   Quarrel—A Fair Answer—Atli's Dilemma—Thorbiorn's
   Revenge—The Slaying of Atli—Atli's Grave*

.. vspace:: 2

Whilst Grettir was in Norway, that ill-luck
which pursued him did not fail to touch and
trouble his Icelandic home as well.

It will be remembered that Grettir had been
forced to fight the Slowcoach, and had killed him.
Now the cousin of this man was Thorbiorn Oxmain,
who lived in the Ramsfirth.  This Thorbiorn had
got a serving-man named Ali, a somewhat lazy man,
strong, but unruly.  As he did his work badly, and
was slow about it, his master rebuked him, and when
rebukes failed, he threatened him.  Threats also
proved unavailing, so Thorbiorn one day took the stick
to his back, and beat him till he danced.  After this
Ali would remain no longer in his service; he ran
away, crossed the ridge to the Midfiord, and came
to Biarg, where he presented himself before Atli,
who asked him what he wanted.

The fellow said that he was in quest of service.

"But," said Atli, "you are, I understand, one of
Thorbiorn's workmen."

"I was so, but I have left his service because I
was badly treated.  He beat me till I was black
and blue; no one can remain with him, he is so
rough with his men, and he exacts of them too much
work.  I have come here because I hear that you
treat your servants well."

Atli replied: "I have hands enough, you had
better go back to Thorbiorn, for I do not want you."

"I will never go back to him, that I declare,"
said the churl.  "If you turn me away, I have
nowhere to which I can go."

So he remained for a few nights at Biarg; and
Atli did not like to turn him out of the house.  Then
one day he went to work with Atli's men, and
worked hard and well, for he was a powerful man.
So time passed.  Atli did not agree to pay him any
wage, and he did not send him away.  He did not
feel best pleased at having the man there, but he
was too kind-hearted to drive him away.

Not only did he remain there and work well, but
he showed himself ready to turn his hand to anything,
and was the most useful man about the place.

Now Thorbiorn heard that his churl was at Biarg.
The death of Slowcoach had rankled in his breast.
He had felt that it was his duty to take up the case
and demand recompense, yet he had not done so;
now he was angered that Atli had opened his doors
to his runaway servant.  He had covenanted with
the man for a year, but the fellow was so disagreeable
that he would have gladly dispensed with his
service; but that Atli should have received him,
and that the man should be making himself useful
at Biarg,—that made him very angry indeed.

So he mounted his horse and rode to Biarg, attended
by two men, and called out Atli to talk with him.

Atli came forth and welcomed him.

Then Thorbiorn said: "You are determined to
pick up fresh occasion of quarrel, and stir ill-will
between us.  Why have you enticed away my
servant?  You had no right to behave thus to me."

Atli replied quietly: "You are mistaken.  I did
not entice him away.  The fellow came to me.  I
did not know for certain that he was your servant,
nor did I know for how long he was engaged to you.
Show me that I have done wrong and I will make
reparation.  If he is yours, reclaim him, I will not
keep him.  At the same time I do not like to shut
him out of my house."

"I claim the man," said Thorbiorn; "I forbid him
to do a stroke of work here.  I expect him returned
to me."

"Nay," said Atli, "take the man, you are welcome
to him; but I cannot bind him hand and foot and
convey him to your house.  If you can get him to
go with you, well and good, I will not detain him."

Atli had answered fairly, but this did not satisfy
Thorbiorn; he knew that he could not drag the man
back to his farm, nor could he persuade him to
follow, so he rode home in a mighty bad temper,
his heart boiling with anger against Atli.  And now
he thought that he would at one and the same time
punish Atli for taking away his servant, and wipe
out the wrong of the slaying of the Slowcoach.

In the evening when the men came in from work,
Atli said that Thorbiorn had been there and had
reclaimed his churl, and Atli bade the fellow depart
and go back to his master.

Then the man said: "That's a true proverb, He
who is most praised is found most faulty at the test.
I came to you because I heard so much good of you,
and now that I have toiled for you without wages
all the early summer, as I have worked for none
else, you want to kick me out of doors as winter
draws on.  I will not go.  You will have to beat
me as Thorbiorn beat me to make me leave this
house, and then, even, I am not sure but that I
shall remain in spite of being beaten."

Atli did not know exactly what to do.  He did
not wish to ill-treat the fellow, and yet without
ill-treatment there was no getting rid of him.  So he
let him remain on.

One day a warm wet rainy mist covered the land,
the hills were enveloped in cloud; Atli sent out
some of his men to mow at a distance where there
was some grass, and others he sent out fishing.  He
remained at home himself with only two or three men.

That day Thorbiorn rode over the ridge that
divided the dales, with a helmet on his head, a
sword at his side, and a barbed spear in his hand.
He came to Biarg, and no one noticed his approach.
He went to the main door, and knocked at it.  Then
he drew back behind the buildings, so that no one
might see him from the door.  In Iceland the walls
of a house between the gables are buttressed with
turf—thick walls or buttresses that project several
feet, and are about six or nine feet thick.  Such
buttresses stood one on each side of the hall door
at Biarg, and behind one of these Thorbiorn
concealed himself.

When he had knocked at the door, a woman came
to it, unbarred and looked up and down the terrace
or platform on which the house was built, but saw
no one.  Thorbiorn peeped from behind the wall of
turf and caught a glimpse of her, and then backed
again into his hiding-place.  The woman then
returned into the house, and told Atli that there
was no one outside.

She had hardly spoken before Thorbiorn knocked
again.  Then Atli jumped up and said: "There must
be someone there, and I will go and see myself who
it is."

Then he went forth and looked out of the door,
but saw no one, as Thorbiorn had again retreated
behind the bank of turf.  The water was streaming
down, so Atli did not go from under cover, but laid
a hand on each of the door-posts, and looked up and
down the valley.

Just as he was looking away from where Thorbiorn
was concealed, that man suddenly swung himself
round the bank of turf, and with all his might
drove the spear against Atli, using both his hands.
The spear entered him below the ribs, and ran right
through him.  Atli uttered no cry, and fell forward
over the threshold.  At that the women rushed
forth, and they took Atli up, but he was dead.

Then Thorbiorn, who had run to his horse, which
was tied up behind the house, rode out on the
terrace, and halting before the door proclaimed that
he had done this deed.

Now this was a formality which, according to
Icelandic law, made his act to be not regarded as a
murder.  A murder by law was the slaying of a
man by one who concealed his name.

Then Thorbiorn rode home.

The goodwife, Asdis, sent for her men, and Atli's
body was laid out, and he was buried beside his
father, old Asmund, who had died during the winter.
There was a church in those days at Biarg, but there
is none there now.  When I was there I asked of the
farmer now living in Biarg where was the old
churchyard, but its site was lost; so I could not tell
where were the graves of Atli the kind-hearted,
honourable man, and the rest of the family.

Great was the lamentation through the district
at the death of one so loved and respected, and hard
things were said of Thorbiorn for what he had done.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE RETURN OF GRETTIR`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE RETURN OF GRETTIR.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *An Old Charge—Trial in Absence—Three Messengers
   of Ill—Grettir and his Mother—Grettir goes to
   Revenge Atli*

.. vspace:: 2

That same summer news reached Iceland of the
burning of the hostel by Grettir.  When Thorir
of Garth heard of the death of his sons he was
furious.  He rode to the great annual assize at
Thingvalla, with a large retinue, and charged Grettir
with having killed his boys maliciously; and he
demanded that for this offence Grettir should be
outlawed.

Then Skapti the judge said: "If things are as
reported, then surely Grettir has committed an evil
deed; but we have only heard one side of the story,
and we only know of what has happened at third
hand, by report; there are two ways of telling every
story.  Let us wait till Grettir returns to Iceland.
There will be time enough for this action to be
taken.  I will not give my word that Grettir is guilty
till we have heard what he has to say for himself."

But Thorir was such a powerful chieftain that he
overbore all resistance.  It was said that he could
not lawfully take action against a man in his
absence; but this was overridden by Thorir, who by
packing the court was able to carry out what he
wanted.  Moreover, owing to the death of Atli there
was no one to oppose him vigorously.

He pushed on matters so hard that nought could
avail to acquit Grettir, and he was proclaimed an
outlaw throughout the whole of Iceland, and Thorir
also put a price on his head of many ounces of silver,
which he said he would pay to that man who would
kill him in Norway or Iceland, or wherever he might
find him.

Towards the close of the summer Grettir arrived
in a vessel off the mouth of the White-river, an exile
from Norway.

It was a still summer night when the ship
dropped anchor.  A boat came from the shore, and
was rowed to the ship.  Grettir stood watching it
from the bows, leaning on his sword.  As it touched
the side of the ship, he called, "What news do you
bring?"

"Are you Grettir, Asmund's son?" asked a man
rising in the boat.

"I am," replied Grettir.

"Then we bear you ill news: your father is dead."

Another man stood up in the boat, and said:
"Grettir, he was an old man, and you can hardly
have expected to hear that he was still alive.  But
what I have to say concerns you as closely, and is
unexpected.  Your brother Atli has been slain by
Thorbiorn Oxmain."

Then a third man rose and said: "But these tidings
concern others first and you secondly.  What I
have to say concerns you mainly.  You have been
made an outlaw throughout the length and breadth
of the land, and a price is set on your head."

It is said that Grettir did not change colour, nor
did a muscle in his whole body quiver; but he lifted
up his voice and sang this strain—

   |  "All at once are showered
   |  Round me, the Rhymer,
   |  Tidings sad—my exile,
   |  Father's loss and brother's,
   |  Branching boughs of battle!
   |  Many a blue-blade-breaker
   |  Shall suffer for my sorrow."
   |

The branching bough of battle is a periphrasis for
a man, so also is a blue-blade-breaker; and it is the
use of such periphrases that constituted poetry to
Icelandic ideas.  One night Grettir swam ashore.
He thought that his enemies would be awaiting him,
and should he venture to land in a boat would fall
on him in overwhelming numbers; so he took to
the water and swam to a point at some distance.
Then he took a horse that he found in a farm near
where he came ashore, and he rode across country to
the Middle-firth, and reached home in two days.  He
reached Biarg during the night when all were asleep;
so instead of disturbing the household, he opened a
private door, stepped into the hall, stole up to his
mother's bed, and threw his arms round her neck.

She started up, and asked who was there.  When
he told her, she clasped him to her heart, and laid
her head, sobbing, on his breast, saying.  "Oh, my
son!  I am bereaved of my children!  Atli, my
eldest, has been foully murdered, and you are
outlawed; only Illugi remains."

Grettir remained at home a few days in close
concealment.  Even the men of the farm were not
suffered to know that he was there.  He heard the
story of how Thorbiorn Oxmain had basely and in
cowardly manner slain his brother, when Atli was
unarmed; and Grettir considered that it was his duty
to avenge his death.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE SLAYING OF OXMAIN`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE SLAYING OF OXMAIN.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *By the Boiling Spring—Grettir
   knocks the Nail from his Spear—Oxmain places his
   Son in Ambush—The Fight with Oxmain—Grettir's
   Spear-head—The Law concerning Manslaying—A
   Rising Black Cloud*

.. vspace:: 2

One fine day, soon after his return, Grettir
mounted a horse, and without an attendant
rode over the hill to the Ramsfirth, and came down
to Thorod's-stead.  This is still a good farm, the
best on the fiord, and it is by far the best built pile
of buildings thereabouts.  It faces the south and is
banked up with turf to the north, to shelter it
against the cold and furious gales from the Polar
Sea.  The soil is comparatively rich there, and there
are tracts of good grass land on the slope of the
hill by the side of the inlet of sea.  The farm
buildings consists at present of a set of wooden
gable ends painted red, and the roofs are all of turf,
where the buttercups grow and shine luxuriantly.

Grettir rode up to the farmhouse, about noon, and
knocked at the door.  Some women came out and
welcomed him; they did not know who he was,
or they would have been more sparing in their
welcome.  He asked after Thorbiorn, and was told
that he was gone to the meadow, a little way further
down the firth, where he had gone to bind hay, and
that he had taken with him his son, called Arnor,
who was a boy of sixteen.

When Grettir heard this, he said farewell to the
women, and turned his horse's head to ride down
the fiord towards a boiling spring that bubbles up
out of the rock, throwing up a cloud of steam, and
running in a scalding rill into the sea.  Now the
rock is perhaps warm there, or the warm water helps
vegetation; certain it is that thereabouts the grass
grows thickly, and there it was that Thorbiorn was
making his bundles of hay.  As Grettir rode along
near the water, below the field, Thorbiorn saw him.
He had just made up one bundle of hay, and he was
engaged on another.  He had set his shield and
sword against the load, and his lad Arnor had a
hand-axe beside him.

Thorbiorn looked hard at Grettir as he came along,
and he said to the boy: "There is a fellow riding this
way.  I wonder who he is, and whether he wants us.
Leave tying up the hay, and let us find out what his
errand is."

Then Grettir leaped off his horse; he had a helmet
on his head, and was girt with the short sword, and
he bore a great spear in his hand that had a long
sharp blade but no barbs.  The socket was inlaid
with silver, and a nail went through the socket
fastening it on to the staff of the spear.  He sat
down on a stone, and knocked the nail out.  His
reason was that he intended to throw the spear at
Thorbiorn, and if he missed him, he thought the
spear-head and the haft would come apart, and would
be of no use to Thorbiorn to fling back at him.

Oxmain said to his son: "I verily believe that is
Grettir, Asmund's son, he is so big; I know no one
else so big.  He has got occasion enough against us,
and if he is come here it is not with peaceable
intentions.  Now we must manage cunningly.  I
do not know that he has seen you; so you hide
behind the bundle of hay, and lie hid till you see
him engaged with me.  Then you steal up noiselessly
behind with your axe, and strike him one blow with
all your might between the shoulder-blades.  When
I see you coming up, I will fight the more furiously
so as to draw off his attention, that he may not be
able to look round.  Have no fear, he cannot hurt
you, as his back will be turned to you.  Get close
enough to make sure, and you will kill him with one
blow."

Now Grettir came uphill into the field, and when
he came within a spear-throw of them, he cast his
spear at Thorbiorn; but the head was looser on the
shaft than he had expected it would be, and it
became detached in its flight, and fell off and
dropped into a marshy place and sank, and the shaft
flew on but a little way and then fell harmlessly to
the ground.

Then Thorbiorn took his shield, put it before him,
drew his sword and ran against Grettir and engaged
him.  Grettir had, as already said, the short sword
that he had taken out of the barrow, and with that
he warded off the blows of Thorbiorn and smote at
him.  Oxmain was a very strong man, and his
shield was covered with well-tanned hide stretched
over oak, and the blade of Grettir fell on it, hacked
into it, and sometimes caught so that he could not at
once withdraw it.  Thorbiorn now began to deal more
furious blows.  Now just as Grettir was wrenching his
sword away from the shield, into which it had bitten
deep, he saw someone close behind him with an axe
raised.  Instantly he tore out his sword and smote
back over his head to protect his back from his
assailant behind, and the blow came on Arnor just
as he was on the point of driving his axe in between
the shoulders of Grettir, so that he staggered back,
mortally wounded.  Thorbiorn, whose eye was on
his son, retreated a step, lost his presence of mind for
a moment, and thereupon down came Grettir's sword
on his shield and split it in half.  Grettir pursued
his advantage, pressed on him, and struck him down
at his feet, dead at a blow.

Then he went in search of his silver-inlaid
spear-head, but could not find it.  So he mounted his
horse again, rode on to the nearest farmhouse, and
there told what he had done.  Many, many years
after, about 1250, the spear-head was found in the
marsh.  When I was in Iceland I also obtained a
very similar spear-head, only not silver-inlaid, that
was found in the volcanic sand; it had probably been
lost in a very similar manner.

It seems to us in these civilized times very horrible
this continual slaying that took place in Iceland;
but we must remember that, as already said, there
were in those days not a single policeman, soldier,
or officer of justice in the island.  When a trial took
place, the prosecutor was the person aggrieved, or
the nearest akin.  The court pronounced sentence,
and then the prosecutor was required to carry out
what the law had ordered.  He was to be constable
and executioner.  Now the law, or custom which
was the same as law, for there was no written code,
was that when one man had been killed, the next of
kin was bound to prosecute the slayer and obtain
from him money compensation, or outlawry, or else
he might kill the slayer himself, or one of his kin.
This latter provision seems to us outrageous, that
because A kills B, therefore that C, who is B's
brother, may kill D, who is brother to A.  But so the
law or custom stood and was recognized as binding,
and not to carry out the law or custom was regarded
as dishonourable.  It must be remembered that
Iceland was colonized about A.D. 900, and that Grettir
was born only about 97 years after, and that
Christianity was adopted in 1000; that is to say, it
was sanctioned by law, but no one was forced to
become a Christian unless he liked.  Also, that there
was no government in the island, no central authority,
and that the colonists lived much as do the first
settlers now in a new colony which is not under the
crown, or like the diggers at the gold mines.

When Grettir had slain Thorbiorn Oxmain, he went
home to Biarg and told his mother, who said it was
well that Atli's blood was wiped out by the death of
the man who had so basely and in such cowardly
fashion slain him; but she said she foresaw more
trouble coming like a rising black cloud, and that
this would make it more difficult for Grettir to get
relief from his outlawry.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AT LEARWOOD`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   AT LEARWOOD.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *At Hvamsfiord—Iceland Scenery—An Iceland
   Paradise—One Lucky Chance—Kuggson's Story—Onund's
   Voyage—In Search of Uninhabited Land—The
   Landing—Eric's Gift—A Cold Back!—Better than
   Nothing—An Oversight—Death of Onund—Planning
   a Murder—Killing the Curd Bottle—The Churl's
   Axe—The Red Stream—Hard Times—The "Wooden-tub"—The
   Stranded Whale—The Fight over the Whale—Retreat
   of the Coldbackers—Before the Assize—The Judgment—An
   Evil Act—Ill-luck follows Ill*

.. vspace:: 2

After the slaying of Thorbiorn Oxmain, Grettir
would not remain at home, lest trouble should
come on his mother; so he rode across the Neck first
of all to his brother-in-law, at Melar, at the head of
the Ramsfirth, to ask his advice.  His brother-in-law
there was called Gamli; he was not very rich or
powerful, and he represented to Grettir that it would
never do for him to remain in such near proximity
to Thorod's-stead, in the same valley, at the head of
the same firth.  This Grettir acknowledged, so he
stayed there but a few days, and then rode over the
high table-land to the Lax, or Salmon-dale, where
was the watershed, and the river of the salmon
ran west into Hvamsfiord.  One of the most interesting
and best written of the Icelandic sagas relates
to the history of this valley.  The Hvamsfiord is by
nature wonderfully protected against western storms,
for the entrance is almost blocked to the west by a
countless multitude of islands, of which only one is
moderately large, and to the north-west is not only
a grassy promontory, but also a natural breakwater
of three long narrow islands.

Outside the cluster of islands are eddies and
whirlpools, and the passage between them is not
always safe; but when a vessel has passed through
between the islets it enters as into a wide beautiful
inland lake, the shape of which is that of a boot,
with the sole to the east and the toe turned up
north.  Moreover, along the north side of this
sheltered firth are high and steep hills that
screen from the water all gales sweeping from the
Pole; and in the glens and under the crags of these
hills exposed to the south are beautiful woods of
birch.

Formerly in Iceland the woods were much more
extensive than they are now; for the old settlers
found in them plenty of fuel, and the birch-trees
grew to a fair size.  Now, alas, with fatal want of
consideration, the trees have been so cut down that
the woods are rare and the trees are small.  There
is hardly a birch-tree whose top one cannot touch
when riding through a wood on a little pony no
bigger than a Shetlander.

Exactly at the toe of the boot is a rich grassy
basin, where two streams flow into the fiord, and
here is a beautiful view from the water.  One sees
in front the green basin, and above it rise the
mountains to Skeggoxl, a cone covered with eternal snows
and with glaciers streaming down its flanks.  Here, in
a sweet sheltered nook, basking in the sun, in spring
with the river-side and the marshes blazing with
immense marigolds, and with the short grass slopes
speckled with blue tiny gentianella, is the farm, and
near it the wooden church of Hvam.  In another
part of the basin is a settlement called Asgard, the
"Home of the gods;" for those who settled there first
thought the spot so delightful, so warm, that they
named it after the sunny land of fable, where it
was said that their ancestors, the hero-gods of the
northern race, had lived in the east before ever they
crossed Russia and settled in Norway.  Asgard to
their minds was Paradise.

Paradise in Iceland is not a paradise elsewhere;
nevertheless, to one who has travelled over barren
hills and between glaciers, this warm nook with its
green grass and woods of glistening birch was a place
of inexpressible charm.  Now, just to the east, where
would come the ball of the toe, looking across the
end of this still blue lake-like fiord, up the valleys
to the snows of Skeggoxl, is the farm of Learwood,
in a grassy flat by the water, backed by birchwood
and hills, and screened from the east as well as from
the north winds.  Here lived Thorstein Kuggson.
Kuggson's mother was the daughter of Asgeir, the
father of Audun of Willowdale, with whom Grettir
had a tussle on the ice, and whom he afterwards
upset with his foot when he was carrying curds.
Kuggson through his father was related to the
influential and wealthy family in the Laxdale, whose
history is well known through the noble saga that
relates the story of that valley.

Grettir spent the autumn with his relative
Kuggson.  Now, whilst he was there he fell to talking
one day with Kuggson about his trial of strength
with Audun, and Grettir said how glad he was that
nothing had come of it.  It was said that he was
a man of ill-luck; yet luck had befriended him on
that occasion in sending Bard to interrupt the
struggle before both lost their tempers and the
quarrel became serious.

Then said Kuggson: "You remind me of the story
of Bottle-back, which, of course, you know."

"It is many years since I have heard the tale,"
answered Grettir; "for, indeed, I can be little at
home now, and am out of the way of hearing stories
of one's forefathers.  Tell me the tale."

Then Kuggson told Grettir

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center bold

   The Story of Bottle-Back

.. vspace:: 2

"You know very surely, Grettir, that your
great-grandfather was Onund Treefoot.  He was so called
because in the great battle of Haf's fiord, fought
against King Harald, he had one of his legs cut off
below the knee.  You have been told how that
Onund had first to wife Asa, and that he settled at
Cold-back; and he had by his first wife two sons,
Thorgeir and Ufeig, who was also called Grettir,
and it is after him that you are named.  Onund's
second wife was the mother of Thorgrim Grizzlepate,
your grandfather.

"The story I am going to tell you relates to
Thorgeir, the eldest son of Onund, and how he got the
name of Bottle-back.  You might think he acquired
the designation from a rounded back.  It was not
so, he had a back as straight as yours.

"But to understand the story of how he got the
name, I must go back to the time when Onund,
your great-grandfather, came to Iceland.  That was
in the year of Christ 900; he was unable to remain
any longer in Norway, because the king, Harald, was
in such enmity with him.  So he resolved that he
would come to Iceland and seek there a new home.
Now this was somewhat late, for the colonization
of this island had begun some five or six and twenty
years before, and there had come out great numbers
of Norwegian chiefs, who fled from the rapacity and
the vengeance of King Harald Fairhair, who
outlawed every man who took up arms against him."

But the story shall be told not in Kuggson's
words, but in mine.

Onund sailed to Iceland from Norway in the
summer of A.D. 900, and he had a hard voyage and
baffling winds from the south that drove him far
away to the north into the Polar Sea, till he came
near the pack-ice; and then there came a change, and
he made south, and after much beating about, for
he had lost his reckoning, he made land, and found
that he had come upon the north coast of Iceland,
and those who knew the looks of the land said he
was off the Strand Bay.  To the west rose the rocks
and glaciers of the Drang Jokull, and to the east
the long promontory that separated the Hunafloi
from Skagafiord.

Presently a ten-oared boat put off from shore,
rowed by six men, and approached Onund's vessel,
and the men in the boat hailed the vessel and asked
whose it was.  Onund gave his name and inquired
to whom the men belonged.  They said they were
servant men belonging to a farm at Drangar, just
under the mighty field of glacier of Drang Jokull.
Onund asked if all the land was taken up by settlers,
and the men answered that along the north coast all
such land as was worth anything was taken already,
and that most was also settled to the south.

Then Onund consulted with his shipmates what
was to be done, whether coast along the north
protuberance of Iceland in search of uninhabited land,
or go into the great bay and see whether any chance
opened for them there.  They had arrived so late
in Iceland after the main rush of settlers that they
could not expect to get any really favourable quarters.
The men advised against exploring the north,
exposed to the cold gales from the Polar Sea, where
the fiords would be blocked with ice half the year;
and thought there would be no harm trying what
they could find further south.

So Onund turned his vessel in towards the head
of the splendid bay Hunafloi; but seeing a creek that
seemed fairly sheltered, having on the north some
quaint spikes of rock, and a great mountain to the
south like a horn, and finding that this fiord gave
a turn northwards under the shelter of the mountains,
the men with Onund's consent ran in there,
and having anchored the vessel, entered a boat and
rowed ashore.  On reaching the strand they were
met by men who asked them who they were and
what they did there.  Onund said he had come
with peaceable intentions, and then he was told that
all that fiord was occupied, and that the owner of
the land was Eric Trap, a wealthy man.  Eric came
to the beach and hospitably invited Onund and his
ship's crew to his house.  There Onund told him his
difficulty.  He had come to Iceland too late, and
he feared that he would be able nowhere to find
unclaimed lands.

Eric considered a while, and then said there was
more land that he had claimed than he could well
keep in hand, and that he would be pleased to
accommodate a man of such noble family and character
as was Onund.  Onund pressed him to receive
payment for the land, but this Eric generously refused.
When he had come there, said Eric, the country had
been unpeopled, and he had just claimed what he
liked, and had claimed more than he wanted.  Now
he desired to have neighbours, and if Onund would
be friendly none would be better pleased than
himself to have him near.

This gratifying offer satisfied Onund, but, as the
saying is, 'Don't look a gift-horse in the mouth,' he
did not at once close with the offer, but asked to be
allowed to see the land Eric was so ready to part
with.

Accordingly he rode with Eric along the coast,
passed the headland where was the horn-shaped
mountain, and came upon a fiord where some boiling
springs poured up in the sea out of its depths; the
mountains on the north came down so abruptly to
the water's edge that the only habitable ground lay
at the head of the firth and on the south side, having
a northern aspect.  Moreover there was a lofty range
to the south, so that in winter the sun would never
light up this firth.  Onund did not much like it, he
thought that Eric had offered him the place because
he did not care for it himself; so he went across the
mountain range and down into the little bay south
of it.  As they rode it was over snow, a long
descent of wintry mountain, till they reached a valley
in which was a hot spring, a little lake, and some
grass.  The situation was somewhat more inviting
than that Onund had already seen, but it was not
very attractive, and looking back on the long dreary
slope of snow he said, "A cold back! a cold back!
I would like to have had one warmer."  "That is not
easily acquired," answered Eric.  "Further south there
is no fiord for many miles till you come to one
occupied by a man called Biarni.  That I can tell
you is a fertile settlement, there are woods and
pastures, and hot springs and good anchorage; but
that is not my land to give you."

Then Onund sang a stave:

   |  "All across life's strands do run,
   |  I who many war-wagers won,
   |  Meadows green and pastures fair
   |  Once were mine, and woods to spare.
   |  Left behind, I rid the steed
   |  That o'er wave, with wind doth speed.[#]
   |  Cold—cold, icy back behind,
   |  This is what alone I find,
   |  Hard the lot that fate doth yield
   |  To the bearer of the shield."

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent small

[#] *i.e.* a ship.

.. vspace:: 2

Eric answered, "Many men have lost everything
in Norway, and have got nothing in exchange.
Cold may be the back against which to lean; but
better cold back than none at all."

This was true.  Onund had not received Eric's
offer graciously; but he now accepted it, and he
called the second bay he saw—that into which he
had descended over snow—Coldback, and that
remains the name to this day.

Eric behaved very nobly; he gave up to Onund
the whole tract of land from the Horn-headland to
the limit where Biarni's land began.  He received
the whole of Reykjafiord, Fishless Creek, and
Coldback Bay.

Then Onund built himself a house at Coldback;
and there was no difficulty about wood, for the
Gulfstream flowed up past the great north-west
promontory of Iceland, curled round into Hunafloi, and
deposited a quantity of American timber as drift
all along that coast.  Indeed, the drift was so
abundant that neither Eric nor Onund made any
agreement about it.  Now, as it happened in the sequel,
this was an oversight.

Onund prospered at Coldback, and even set up
for himself a second farm at the head of the firth to
the north, called Reykja-firth, from the boiling
springs that puffed and bubbled up in the sea
at the entrance; and a hot spring is in
Icelandic—Reykr.

Now, a few years after Onund had settled in
Iceland, his good wife Asa died.  He had by her
two sons—the elder was called Thorgeir, and the
younger Ufeig Grettir.  After a while Onund went
courting a woman called Thordis, in Middle-firth,
and he married her, and by her had a son called
Thorgrim; he grew to be a big man, very strong,
wise, and a capital man at husbandry.  When he
was twenty-five years old his hair grew gray, and
so he went by the name of Thorgrim Grizzle-pate,
and he was the grandfather of Grettir.  After the
death of Onund, his widow married, as already
said, Audun of Willowdale, and their son was
Asgeir, the father of Grettir's cousin Audun, with
whom he had that affray on the ice, and then with
the bottle of curds.

When Onund was a very old man, then he died
in his bed, and he was buried under a great mound,
which you may see at Coldback if you go there.  It
is called Old Treefoot's cairn.  When he was dead,
then Thorgrim Grizzlepate and his half-brothers,
Thorgeir and Ufeig Grettir, lived together on the
best of terms at Coldback, and managed the property
between them.

In time Eric Trap of Arness died also, and left
his lands to his son Flossi.  He had remained in
friendship with Onund all his life; but Flossi, his
son, was a grasping man, and he was often heard to
grumble about the Coldback family, and say that
they were squatters on his father's land, and had no
title to show for the land they held.  Thorgrim
Grizzlepate and his half-brothers did not wish to
quarrel with Flossi, so they kept out of his company;
and when there were sports of hurling, and wrestling,
and horse-fighting, strayed away, so as not to be
involved in a quarrel with him.

Now, Thorgeir was the eldest of the three
brothers at Coldback, and he was mightily fond of
fishing.  This was known to Flossi, and he made a
plot for slaying him; for he was envious of the
brothers, and wanted to get back all their lands into
his own possession.  He had got a house-churl
called Finn, and he and Finn had some talk together.
The end of this talk was that Finn started secretly
for Coldback armed with a hatchet, and he hid
himself in the boat-house at Coldback.

Early in the morning Thorgeir got ready to
go out fishing, for the weather was good, the sea
calm and was alive with fish.  His nets were in the
boat, and before sunrise he left his bed and dressed,
and went to the boat-house to start on his excursion.
He had not the smallest suspicion of mischief, and
as he was like to be on the water for a long time, he
flung a great leather bottle of curds over his back.
As already said, these leather bottles were no other
than the hides of goats or sheep, sewn up and
converted into receptacles for liquid.

So Thorgeir went to the boat-house with the
bottle of curd over his back, opened the door, and
went in.  He did not look round, he had no suspicion
of evil, and he did not see Finn lurking in the
dark corner.  It was, moreover, very dark in the
boat-house.  Thorgeir stooped to get hold of the
boat and thrust her out, when all at once out from
the dark corner leaped the churl, and brought the
axe down on Thorgeir's back.  The blow made the
bottle squeak, and all the curds gushed out.  That
was enough for Finn.  He made sure he had killed
Thorgeir, so he ran away as fast as he could back to
Arness, burst into the house, and shouted to his
master "I have killed him!  I have killed him!  And
he squeaked!  he squeaked!"

"Let me look at the axe," said Flossi.  Then, when
he had the axe in his hand he turned it about and
laughed, and said, "Verily, I did not think that
Thorgeir had milk in his veins instead of blood.
That accounts for it, that you have been able to
slay him."

This affair was a subject of much comment, and
much laughter did it provoke.  Thorgeir had not
received the smallest wound, only his bottle was split,
and ever after he went by the name of Bottle-back.

But a song was made about this event which was
never forgotten.  It runs thus:—

   |    "Of the days of old
   |    Great tales are told
   |  How heroes went forth to fight,
   |    Their shields, for show
   |    Were whitened as snow,
   |  And their weapons were burnished bright
   |    The battle began,
   |    In the weapon-clang,
   |  The red blood flowed apace
   |    In rivers shed
   |    It dyed red
   |  The shields o'er all their face.
   |    But nowaday
   |    We tune our lay
   |  To tell a different story.
   |    The churls who fight
   |    Bring axes white,
   |  With curds and whey made gory."
   |

When Kuggson ceased, Grettir laughed heartily.
"Ah!" said he, "that cannot be said now, for indeed
there flows much blood."

"You speak the truth," answered Kuggson; "and
I wish that this red stream flowed less abundantly."

"That may be," said Grettir; "but I would fain
hear the rest of the story.  I have not heard it told
me for a long time; and, indeed, to speak the truth,
much of it I have clean forgotten, though I did hear
it when I was a boy at home."

"If you will hear what follows, it must be as a
new story," said Kuggson.  Again I will tell it in
my own words.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center bold

   The Story of the Stranded Whale

.. vspace:: 2

Hard times came to Iceland, such as had not been
known since it was settled, for the timber that had
been thrown up by the sea came to an end, or very
nearly so.  There had been great accumulations,
and these were exhausted, and for some reason or
other that cannot now be explained the Gulf-stream
ceased to carry on its current the amount of timber
it had formerly, the wreckage of the forests on the
Mississippi, swept down into the great Mexican
Gulf, and thence washed out over the vast Atlantic,
borne on the warm stream to the north, to give fuel
to those lands which were by nature unprovided
with trees.  At this time the axe was laid against
the largest and finest birch that grew in the forests
in Iceland.  But none of that timber was big and
good enough for building purposes.

This deficiency in drift-wood continued for many
seasons, and if men required building timber they
were constrained to send to Norway for it.  Now,
it happened that about this time a great merchant
vessel was wrecked in the fiord in the lap of which
was Arness, where lived Flossi, and he took four or
five of the chapmen to his house, and lodged them
there well and hospitably, and the other wrecked
men were quartered in other farmhouses near.  All
winter the men were engaged in building a new ship
out of the wreck and what other timber they could
get; but they were not skilful over their work, and
they built a badly-proportioned vessel, over small at
the stem and stern and over big amidships; and
this vessel was much laughed at, and men called it
the Wooden-tub, and that bay where Flossi lived
was ever after called Wooden-tub Bay, because this
broad-beamed, comical vessel was built there.[#]


[#] It is still so called, Trèkyllis-víc.


Now, it fell out that at the spring equinox there
was a great storm from the north, and it lasted a
week.  The waves came in huge rollers against the
cliffs, and spouted like geysers into the air, and all
the air was in a haze with spray, and was full of the
noise of the sea.  Those who lived on the coast were
not sorry for the storm, because they hoped it would
blow in drift-wood and other spoils of the deep upon
the shores; and sure enough, when it abated, a man
who lived out on Reykja-ness came and told Flossi
that there was a great whale washed ashore there.
Then Flossi sent word to all the farms round to the
north.  But hard-by where the whale had come
ashore lived a farmer named Einar, who was a
tenant under the brothers at Coldback, so he took a
boat and rowed off to Coldback, and told them about
the monster that was stranded.

When Thorgrim and his brothers Thorgeir and
Ufeig heard this, they got ready at once, and were
twelve in a ten-oared boat, with axes and knives for
cutting up the whale.  Another boat put off from
another of their farms, with six men in it, and others
were sure to come as soon as they could get ready.

In the meantime, Flossi and all his company,
his kindred, servants, and tenants, had hurried to
the spot, and were already engaged in cutting up
the whale, when round the ness came the boat of
the brothers.  Now, the shore where the whale was
cast up belonged to the brothers, and they called out
to Flossi to assert their right to whatever was found
on the strand.  Flossi answered that if they had
any right to the drift they must show their claim.
They had, he said, been allowed by his father to
squat on his land, but his father had never given over
to them all his rights, certainly not the lordship
over the strand, and claim to flotsam and jetsam.
Whilst the dispute continued, up came other boats
of the Coldback party, and then a long boat, that
contained a fellow called Swan, who lived in
Biornfiord, to the south of Coldback, a very warm friend
of the brothers, and a plucky, resolute man.

Thorgrim was hesitating what to do, when Swan
told him it would be mean to allow himself to be
robbed.  Moreover, this assault on his rights, if not
resisted would establish a precedent, and Flossi
would claim everything found on their strand, even
at their very doors.

So a fight began.  The Coldback men came
ashore, and Thorgeir Bottle-back mounted the carcase
of the whale, to drive off the servants of Flossi.
Among these was Finn; he was near the head of
the whale, and stood in a foothold he had cut for
himself.  Then Thorgeir Bottle-back said, "Ah!  I
owe you a stroke of the axe, which has not been
repaid as yet," and he smote at him, and felled him.

Flossi egged on his men, and a desperate fight
ensued; some fought on the body of the whale, some
about it.  There were hardly any present who had
other weapons save choppers and axes, and they
hewed at each other with these.  But some had no
other weapons than the ribs of the whale, and it is
even said that some of the churls flourished great
strips of blubber, with which they banged each other
about, nearly smothering each other in oil, but not
doing much harm.

The battle was going ill with Flossi, when there
arrived a contingent of men from Drangar, with
many boats, and gave help to Flossi, and then those
of Coldback were borne back overpowered; but they
did not retreat till they had loaded their boats.
Swan shouted to the Coldbackers to get on board as
quickly as they could, for he saw more men coming
against them from the north.  Flossi received a wound,
but Ufeig, one of the three brothers, was dealt his
death-wound before he could get into the boat, and
he fell on the strand.  Thorgeir Bottle-back at once
leaped out of the vessel, ran to his brother, heaved
him up in his arms and plunged back through the
surf with him, and lifted him into the boat, where
he died.  It is told that in this battle one man was
beaten to death by the rib of a whale, and that was
one of the chapmen of the wrecked vessel.

After this, the matter was brought before the
assize, for the question of the right to the shore had
to be decided one way or the other.  And it was
decided in this manner: Flossi was condemned
to outlawry for his high-handed proceeding, and
because of the death of Ufeig Grettir; but the
question of the rights was thus settled by the judge,
Thorkel Moon.  He said, "I cannot see that the
claim made by the Coldback men is established, for
no money passed between Onund and Eric.  I know
this about the land that was possessed by my
grandfather Ingolf, and which is now my own.  He
received it from Steinver the Old; but then he gave
her a mottled cloak, and that was a pledge of sale;
and this has never been contested.  In the matter
of the lands inhabited by the Coldback men, as far
as I can learn, not even a straw was given in
exchange.  However, it is proved that they have held
the land, and have taken the drift for a long time;
and that the original owner, Eric, did not dispute their
doing so.  I therefore decide that a compromise shall
hold good.  The Coldback brothers must surrender
all the Reykja-firth, and content themselves with the
land south of that.  And I also decide that they shall
exercise full and undisputed rights to the land, to
all that grows on it, to the sea and what it throws
up, along that bit of strand that remains to them."

.. vspace:: 2

Now when Kuggson had finished this story, then
Grettir said, "You have not told how my grandfather
and great-uncle parted."

"No," said Kuggson.  "There is not much to tell
about that.  The two brothers agreed to separate,
as your grandfather wanted to marry in the Middlefirth.
Bottle-back remained at Coldback."

"Now that you have spoken so much about Coldback,"
said Grettir, "I will tell you something,
though it is to my discredit."

"Say on," answered Kuggson.  "Men are generally
more ready to boast than to discredit themselves."

"When I was a little boy," said Grettir, "my
father suffered from a cold back and great pains in
it, in winter, and he only got ease when it was
rubbed with a hot flannel.  I was a bad, idle boy,
and I was set in winter to rub his cold back.  This
I resented.  I thought it was a work fit only for
servants, and one day when my father had made me
rub his old back till I was tired, then he said to me,
'You are growing slack; rub harder, that I may feel
your hand.'  'Do you so want to feel my hand,
father,' I said.  Then I saw a wool-comb hard by
that the women had used for carding wool, and I
caught it and rubbed down my father's back with
that—so that he shrieked with pain, and I made the
blood flow.  It was a wicked act.  I think of it now
the old man is dead, and I am sorry."

"Yes," said Kuggson, "it was an evil act.  Men
say that you are an unlucky man.  Now, I do not
wonder at your ill-luck, for none ever raised his
hand against his father but there followed him ill
in consequence of so doing all his days."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE FOSTER-BROTHERS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE FOSTER-BROTHERS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grettir's Promise—The Yule Ox—Holding the Boat—A
   Hard Pull—Grettir and the Ox—Thorgeir's Hatred—The
   Concealed Axe—Evil Sport—An Iceland Moor*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, the kinsmen of Oxmain heard where Grettir
was, so they resolved to form a party, and fall
upon him at Learwood.  But Grettir's brother-in-law
was aware of this and forewarned Grettir, so he
went away to the north, and he followed Gilsfiord
till he reached Reyk-knolls, where was a pleasant
farm near the sea, where also were a great number
of ever-boiling springs, that poured and squirted and
fizzed out of mounds of red-clay.  Here lived a man
called Thorgils Arison, and he asked this man if he
would give him shelter through the winter.

Arison said that he would.  "But," said he, "there
is only plain fare in my house."

"I am not choice as to my food, so long as I have
a roof over my head," answered Grettir.

"There is one matter further," said Arison.
"Somehow or other I get men come to me and offer
to become my guests who cannot settle elsewhere,
and I get a rough lot at times.  That comes of
being too good-hearted to bid them pack.  Even now
I have two such good-for-naughts guesting with me,
two foster-brothers, Thorgeir and Thormod; rough,
unkempt men, of bad tempers both, and I wot not
how you will agree together.  You may come and
put your head within my doors if you will, but on
one condition, that there be no fighting and
knocking about of my other guests."

Grettir answered that he would not be the first
to raise strife, and that if the foster-brothers
provoked him beyond endurance he would go elsewhere,
and not give his host annoyance by a brawl in his
house.

With this promise Arison was content.

Thorgils Arison was a firm man, and he told the
foster-brothers that he would have no disturbance
whilst they were with him, and they also promised
to be orderly.  Thorgeir did not like Grettir.  He
scowled at him and contradicted him, but did not
pursue his rudeness beyond bounds; and when
Grettir was ruffled, a word from the master of the
house served to appease the rising blood.

So the early winter wore away.

Now, the good man, Thorgils Arison, owned a
cluster of islands in the firth that are called Olaf's
Isles; they lie a good sea-mile and a half beyond the
ness.  On them grass grows, and there the bonder
kept his cattle to fatten in autumn.  Now, there was
an ox on one of these isles that Arison said he must
have home before the snows and storms of winter
came on, as he intended to kill the beast for the
feastings of Yule.  So the foster-brothers and
Grettir volunteered to go out to the island, and fetch
the ox home.

They went down to the sea and got out a ten-oared
boat, and there were but these three to man
it.  The weather was cold, and the wind was
shifting from the north and not settled.  They rowed
hard, and reached the island; but the sea was
running and foaming over the shore, and they saw it
would be no easy matter to get the ox on board
with such a surf.  So the brothers told Grettir he
must hold the boat, whilst they got the ox in.  He
agreed, and went into the water, and stood
amidships on the side out to sea, and thrust the boat
towards the shore, whilst the brothers laboured to
get the ox in.  Thorgeir took up the ox by the hind
legs, and Thormod by the fore legs, as the beast
refused to be driven on board, and so they carried the
animal into the boat; but Grettir, who held the
craft, had the sea up to his shoulder-blades, and he
held her perfectly fast.

When the ox was hove in, Grettir let go and
got into the boat.  Thormod took oar in the bows,
Thorgeir amidships, and Grettir aft, and so they
made out into the open bay.  As they came out from
the lee of the island the squall caught them, the
waves leaped and foamed, and Thorgeir shouted
"Now then, stern!  Have you gone to sleep?  Why
are you lagging?"

Grettir answered, "The stern will not lag when
the rowing afore is good."

Thereupon Thorgeir fell to rowing so furiously that
both the tholes were broken.  So he called to Grettir,
"Row on steadily whilst I mend the thole-pins."

Then Grettir rowed so mightily, whilst Thorgeir
was engaged mending the pins, that he wore through
the oars, and when Thorgeir was ready they snapped
like matches.

"Better row with less haste and more caution,"
growled Thormod.

Then Grettir stooped and picked out of the bottom
of the boat two unshapen oar-beams that lay there;
but as they were too big to go between the
thole-pins, he bored large holes in the gunwales, and
thrust the oars through, and rowed thus so mightily
that every rib and plank of the boat creaked,
and the foster-brothers were in fear lest with his
rowing he would tear the craft to pieces.  However,
they reached the shore in safety.

Then Grettir asked whether the brothers would
rather haul up the boat, or go home with the ox.
They preferred to haul the boat ashore, and found
that it was hung with icicles, for the water had frozen
on the sides; but Grettir led home the ox, which
was very fat, and very unwilling to be dragged
along, so that Grettir became impatient.

When the foster-brothers had finished bailing out
the boat, and had put her under cover, they went up
to the house, and on reaching it Thorgeir inquired
after Grettir, but Arisen the bonder said he had not
seen him or the ox.  Then he sent out men in quest
of him, for he supposed something must have befallen
him; and when they came to where the land dipped
towards the sea they saw a strange object indeed
coming towards them, and did not know at first
whether what they saw was a human being or a troll.[#]  On
approaching nearer they saw that this strange
object was Grettir, who was carrying the ox on his
back, and striding up the hill with the beast, which had
the head hanging over his shoulder, the tongue out,
and was lowing plaintively.  The sight was infinitely
comical, and the men who saw it burst out laughing,
and this made Grettir also laugh, so that he dropped the ox.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] A troll is a mountain demon or giant.

.. vspace:: 2

Now, it must be known that this story is not
manifestly absurd, for the Icelandic cattle are very
small, like Brittany cows, and bear the same relation
to a good English ox that a pony does to a horse.
Nevertheless the feat was only such as a strong man
could have accomplished.  It had taken the two
brothers to carry the ox down into the boat, and
here was Grettir alone carrying him up hill.

This deed of Grettir was much talked of, and this
made Thorgeir, the elder of the foster-brothers, very
jealous of Grettir, and he hated him, and sought to
do him an injury.  One day after Yule, Grettir
went down to the bath that was made by turning a
stream of hot water from one of the natural boiling
springs into a walled basin into which also cold
water could be turned from a rill.  In former times
the Icelanders were very particular about bathing,
and were a clean people.  At the present day they
never bathe at all, and such of the old baths as
remain are out of order and full of grass and mud.

Thorgeir said to his brother, "Let us go now and
try how Grettir will start, if I set upon him as he
comes away from his bath."

"I do not like this," answered Thormod; "you will
vex our host, and get no advantage over Grettir."

"I will try what I can do," said the elder; and he
took his axe, hid it under his cloak, and went down
towards the bathing-place.

When he had reached it he said, "Grettir, there
is a talk that you have boasted that no man could
make you take to your heels."

"I never said that," answered Grettir, "but
anyhow you are not the man to make me run."

Then Thorgier swung up his axe and would have
cut at Grettir; but Grettir suspected that the man
meant mischief, and he was ready, so that the
instant he drew out the axe and swung it, Grettir
clashed forward at him, struck him in the chest and
sent him staggering back, so that he sprawled his
length on the ground.

Then Thorgeir shouted to his brother, "Why do
you stand by and let this savage kill me?"

Thormod then laid hold of Grettir, and endeavoured
to drag him away, but his strength was not sufficient
to effect this.

At that moment up came Arison, the bonder, and
he bade them be quiet and have nought to do with Grettir.

So the brothers stood up, and Thorgeir pretended
it was all sport, that he had only proposed giving
Grettir a fright; but the bonder hardly believed
him.  As for the younger of the brothers, it was
well seen that he had been drawn into the matter
against his will.  So the winter passed, and peace
was kept.  This little struggle with Grettir had
shown Thorgeir that it would be ill for him to have
dealings with a man so prompt and strong as Grettir,
and he controlled himself and did not seek to pick
a quarrel with him any more.  At the same time he
did not like him any better.  Thorgils Arison got
great credit, when it was reported that throughout
an entire winter he had maintained such turbulent
men as the foster-brothers and Grettir under his
roof without their having fought.[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] There is an entire saga relating to the history
of these brothers, called the
Foster-Brothers' Saga.

.. vspace:: 2

But when spring came then they went away, all
of them, away over the heaths and moors of the
interior.

When we say that Grettir was on the heaths and
moors, it must not be supposed that the region so
called was at all like the moors of Scotland or
England.  The heaths and moors of Iceland are
upland desert regions with only here and there a
scanty growth of vegetation, a little whortleberry,
no heath at all, but vast tracts of broken stone and
mud and black sand, with perhaps here and there
an occasional hill of yellow sandstone.  Most of the
rock is perfectly black, and breaks into pieces with
sharp angles.  What is called Icelandic moss is a
black lichen that grows on the stones, and there is
a very little gray moss to be seen.  Where there is
a burn or a stream a little grass may grow, but the
amount is small indeed.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW GRETTIR WAS WELL NIGH HUNG`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW GRETTIR WAS WELL-NIGH HUNG.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Law-man's Judgment—Snorri's Compromise—The
   Compromise Declined—Grettir Helps Himself—The
   Spy—Thirty to One—An Undesirable Prisoner—The
   Gallows for Grettir—Thorbiorg Saves Grettir—Grettir
   Conquers Himself*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, after the slaying of Thorbiorn Oxmain, his
kinsman Thorod took the matter up, and rode
to the great assize with a large train of men.

The relatives of Grettir also appeared at the
assize, and they took advice of Skapti, the
law-man; and he said that Atli was slain a week before
the sentence of outlawry was pronounced against
Grettir, that Thorbiorn Oxmain was guilty of that,
and his relatives must pay a heavy fine for the
murder.  But he said that Grettir was an
outlaw when he slew Thorbiorn.  Now being an
outlaw he was outside the cognizance of the law, he
was as one not a native of the country, as one over
whom the law had no longer jurisdiction; that,
therefore, his slaying of Thorbiorn could not count
as expiation of the slaying of Atli; that,
moreover, no suit against an outlawed man could
stand—it was illegal: that the only way in which Grettir
could be brought into court was by the removal of
the sentence of outlawry, when at once he could be
prosecuted.

Thorod was disconcerted at this; for he could not
bring an action against Grettir, and the Biarg people
did now bring an action against him for the slaying
of Atli, and the court gave sentence that he should
pay down two hundred ounces of silver as blood fine
for Atli.

Now, at this court, Snorri the judge proposed a
compromise.  He suggested that the fine should be
let drop, and that Grettir should be held scatheless,
that the outlawry should be set aside, and the
slaying of Thorbiorn be put against the slaying of
Atli, and so reconciliation be made.

Thorod did not at all want to pay down two
hundred ounces of silver, and the Biarg family were
very willing to have the outlawry done away with;
so both parties were quite willing to accept this
compromise, but Thorir of Garth had to be reckoned
with.  Grettir was outlawed at his suit for the
burning of his sons, and he must be brought to
consent, or this arrangement could not take place.

But Thorir was not to be moved.  In vain did
the law-man Snorri urge him, and represent to him
that Grettir, at large, an outlaw, was a danger
menacing the country, that he was driven to
desperation, Thorir absolutely refused to allow the
sentence to be withdrawn.  Not only so, but he said he
would set a higher price on his head than had been
set on the head of any outlaw before, and that was
three marks of silver.  Then Thorod, not to be
behind with him, offered three more.

Grettir resolved to get as much out of the way of
his enemies as he could, so he went into that strange
excrescence, like a hand joined on by a narrow wrist
to Iceland, that extends to the north-west.  In this
peninsula are two great masses of snow and glacier
mountain, called Glam-jokull and Drang-jokull.  They
do not rise to any great height, hardly three
thousand feet, but they are vast domes of snow, with
glaciers sliding from them to the firths, and these
fall over the edges of the precipitous cliffs in huge
blocks of ice that float away on the tide as icebergs.
The largest of all the fiords that penetrates this
region is called the Ice-firth, and it runs between
these great mountains of snow and glaciers.  At
the extremity of the estuary the valleys are
well-wooded—that is to say, well-wooded for Iceland—with
birch-trees, for their valleys are very sheltered,
and the sea-water that roll in bears with it a certain
amount of heat, for it has been affected by the Gulf-stream.

One of these valleys is called Waterdale, and at
the time of our story there lived there a man named
Vermund the Slim, and his wife's name was
Thorbiorg; she was a big, fine woman.  Another valley
is Lang-dale.  Grettir went to Lang-dale—there
he demanded of the farmers whatever he wanted,
food and clothing, and if they would not give him
what he asked, he took it.  This was not to their
taste at all, and they wished that they were rid of
Grettir.  He could not remain long in one place, so
he rode along the side of the Ice-firth demanding
food, and sleeping and concealing himself in the
woods.  So in his course he came to the upland
pastures and dairy that belonged to Vermund Slim,
and he slept there many nights, and hid about in
the woods.

The shepherds on the moors were afraid of him,
and they ran down into the valleys and told the
farmers everywhere that there was a big strange
man on the heights, who took from them their curd
and milk, and dried fish, and that they were afraid
to resist his demands.  They did not quite know
what he was, whether a man or a mountain spirit.

So the farmers gathered together and took advice,
and there were about thirty of them.  They set a
shepherd to watch Grettir's movements, and let
them know when he could be fallen upon.  Now, it
fell out one warm day that Grettir threw himself
down in a sunny spot to sleep.  The glistening beech
leaves were flickering behind him, the rocks were
covered with the pale lemon flowers of the dry as,
and between the clefts of the stones masses of large
purple-flowered geranium stood up and made a glow
of colour deep into the wood.

It is a mistake to suppose that Iceland is bare of
flowers; on the contrary, there are more flowers there
than grass.  Beneath Grettir the turf was full of
tiny deep-blue gentianellas, just as if the turf were
green velvet, with a thread of blue in it coming
through here and there.

The shepherd stole near enough to see that Grettir
really was fast asleep, and then he ran and told the
bonders, who came noiselessly to the spot.  It was
arranged among them that ten men should fling
themselves on him, whilst the others fastened his
feet with strong cords.

They made a noose, and cautiously without waking
him managed to get it about his legs; then, all at
once, ten of them threw themselves on his body, and
tried to pin down his arms.  Grettir started from
his sleep, and with one toss sent the men rolling off
him, and he even managed to get to his knees.
Then they pulled the noose tighter and brought him
down, he, however, kicked out at two, whom he
tumbled head over heels, and they lay stunned on
the earth.  Then one after another rushed at him,
some from behind.  He could not get at his weapons,
which they had removed, and though he made a
long and hard fight, and struggled furiously, they
were too many for him, and they overcame him in
the end, and bound his hands.

Now, as he lay on the grass, powerless, they held
a council over him what should be done.  The chief
man of that district was Vermund Slim, but he was
from home.  So it was settled that a farmer named
Helgi should take Grettir and keep him in ward till
Vermund came home.

"Thank you gratefully," said Helgi; "but I have
other business to attend to than to keep sentinel
over this man.  My hands are fully occupied without
this.  Not if I know it shall he cross my threshold."

So the farmers considered, and decided that another
man who lived at Giorvidale should have the custody
of Grettir.

"You are most obliging," said he; "but I have
only my old woman with me at home, and how can
we two manage him?  Lay on a man only such a
burden as he can bear."

They considered again, and came to the conclusion
that one Therolf of Ere should have the charge
of Grettir.

But he replied, "No, thank you, I am short of
provisions, there is hardly food enough at my house
for my own party."

Then they appointed that he should be put with
another farmer; but he said, "If he had been taken
in my land, well and good, but as he has not, I won't
be encumbered with him."

Then every farmer was tried, and all had excuses
why they should not have the care of Grettir; and
consequently, as no one would have him, they
resolved to hang him.  So they set to work and
constructed a rude gallows there in the wood, and a
mighty clatter they made over it.

Whilst thus engaged, it happened that Thorbiorg,
Vermund's wife, was riding up to her mountain dairy,
attended by five servants.  She was a stirring, clever
woman, and when she saw so many men gathered
together and making such a noise, she rode towards
them to inquire what they were about.

"Who is that lying in bonds there?" she asked.

Then Grettir answered and gave his name.

"Why, now, is it, Grettir," she said, "that you
have given so much trouble in this neighbourhood?"

"I must needs be somewhere," he answered.  "And
wherever I am, there I must have food."

"It is a piece of ill-luck that you should have
fallen into the hands of these bumpkins," said she.
Then turning to the farmers she asked what they
purposed doing with Grettir.

"Hang him," answered they.

"I do not deny that Grettir may have deserved
the rope," said Thorbiorg; "but I doubt if you are
doing wisely in taking his life.  He belongs to a
great family, and his death will not be to your
quietness and content if you kill him."  Then she
said to Grettir, "What will you do if your life be
given you?"

"You propose the conditions," said he.

"Very well, then you must swear not to revenge
on these men what they have done to you to-day,
and not to do any violence more in the Ice-firth."

Grettir took the required oath, and so he was
loosed from his bonds.  He said afterwards that
never had he a harder thing to do than to control
his temper, when set free, and not to knock the
farmers' heads together like nuts and crack them,
for what they had done to him.

Then Thorbiorg invited him to her house, and he
went with her to the Water-firth, and there abode
till her husband returned, and when Vermund heard
all, then he was well pleased; and deemed that
his wife had acted with great prudence and kindness.
He asked Grettir to remain there as long as
was consistent with his safety, and Grettir accepted
his hospitality, and continued there as his guest till
late in the autumn, when he went south to
Learwood, where was Kuggson, with whom he
purposed spending the winter.  However, he was not
able to stay there, for it soon became known where
he was, and his enemies prepared to take him.  He
accordingly left and went to a friend in another
fiord, and remained a short while with him, but was
obliged for the same reason to fly thence also; and so
he spent the winter dodging about from place to
place, never able to remain long anywhere, because
his enemies were so resolved on his death, and were
on the alert to fall on him wherever they heard he
was sheltering.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IN THE DESERT`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   IN THE DESERT.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Center of the Island—Ice, Desert, and
   Volcanoes—The Bubble-Caves—A Dweller in the
   Desert—Grettir Stops the Rider—Hall-mund
   Stronger than Grettir—Grettir Seeks Skapti's
   Advice—Grettir's Night Fears—Grettir Builds a House*

.. vspace:: 2

The island of Iceland is one-third larger than
Ireland, but then the population is entirely
confined to the coast.  All the centre of the island
is desert and mountain.  One mighty mass of
mountain covered with eternal snow and ice occupies
the south of the island and approaches the sea very
closely in the south-east.  Much of this is unexplored;
it has of recent years been traversed once, across the
great Vatna-jokull, but there are passes west of the
Vatna.  The mountain masses are broken into three
main masses.  The vast Vatna-jokull is to the east,
then comes a pass, and next the circular Arnafells-jokull,
then another pass, and lastly the jumble of
snow mountains that form the Ball-jokull and the
Lang-jokull, the Goatland and the Erick's-jokull.
North of the Vatna-jokull is a vast region, as large
as a big county, covered with lava broken up into
bristling spikes and deep clefts of glass-like rock,
which no one can possibly get across.  In the midst
of it, inaccessible, rise the cones of volcanoes that
have poured forth this sea of molten rock.  East and
west of this mighty tract of broken-up lava come
extensive moors also quite desert, covered with
inky-black sand which has been erupted by volcanoes,
burying and destroying what vegetation there was.
The extent of desert may be understood when you
learn that there are twenty thousand square miles of
country perfectly barren and uninhabitable, and only
partially explored.  There are but four thousand
square miles in Iceland that are inhabited; the rest
of the country is a chaos of ice, desert, and volcanoes.
The great lava region mentioned north of the Vatna
covers one thousand one hundred and sixty square
miles, and the Vatna envelopes three thousand five
hundred square miles in ice.  Now, here and there
in this vast region there are certain sheltered spots
where some grass grows, valleys that have escaped
the overflow of the molten rock, or the thrust of the
glacier; and during the ninety years that Iceland
had been inhabited, every now and then a churl who
got tired of service, or a murderer afraid of his life,
ran away into the centre of the island, and lived
a precarious existence on the wild birds, their eggs,
and on the fish that abounded in the countless lakes.
Probably also they stole sheep, and carried them
away to the mysterious recesses of the desert where
they had made for themselves homes.  They lived
chiefly in caverns, of which there are plenty thus
formed:—When the lava poured as a fiery stream
out of the volcanoes, in cooling great bubbles were
formed in it, sometimes these bubbles exploded, blew
the fragments into the air, which fell back and made
a mass of broken bits of rock like an exploded
soda-water bottle; but all the bubbles did not burst, and
such hardened when the rock became cool.  These
bubbles remain as great domed halls, and some of
them run deep underground, forming a succession
of chambers.  I have explored one where a band of
outlaws once lived, and found numbers of sheep-bones
frozen up in ice in the place where, after they
had eaten the mutton, they threw away what they
could not devour.  At the end of the cave they had
erected a wall so as to inclose a space as a store
chamber.

These men, living in the desert and rarely seen,
were the subject of many tales, and it was not clearly
known who and what they really were, whether
altogether human, or half mountain-spirits.
Imagination invested them with supernatural powers.

When spring came and the snows melted, then
Grettir left the farmhouse where he had been last
in hiding, and went into the desert, to find food and
shelter for himself.

One day he saw a man on horseback alone riding
over a ridge of hill.  He was a very big man, and
he led another horse that had bags of goods on his
back.  The man wore a slouched hat so that his face
could not clearly be seen.

Grettir looked hard at the horse and the goods on
the pack-saddle, and thought he would probably find
some of these latter serviceable to him, and in his
need he was not particular how he got those things
which he wanted.  So he went up to the rider and
peremptorily ordered him to stand and deliver.

"Why should I give you things that are my own?"
asked the stranger.  "I will sell some of my wares if
you can pay for them."

"I have no money," answered Grettir, "what I
want I take.  You must have heard that by report."

"Then I know with whom I have to deal; you
are Grettir the outlaw, the son of Asmund of
Biarg."  Thereat he struck spurs into his horse and tried to
ride past.

"Nay, nay!  We part not like this," said Grettir,
and he laid his hands on the reins of the horse the
stranger rode.

"You had better let go," said the mounted man.

"Nay, that I will not," answered Grettir.

Then the rider stooped and put his hands to the
reins above those of Grettir, between them and the
bit, and he dragged them along, forcing Grettir's
hands along the bridle to the end and then wrenched
them out of his grasp.

Grettir looked at his palms and saw that the skin
had been torn in the struggle.  Then he found out
that he had met with a man who was stronger
than himself.

"Give me your name," said he.  "For, good faith!
I have not encountered a man like you."

Then the horseman laughed and sang:

   |  "By the Caldron's side
   |  Away I ride,
   |  Where the waters rush and fall
   |  Adown the crystal glacier wall
   |  There you will find a stone
   |  Joined to a hand—alone."
   |

This was a puzzling answer.  The meaning was
that he lived near a waterfall that poured out of the
Ice mountain, and that his name was Hall-mund,
*hall* is a stone and *mund* is the hand.

Grettir and he parted good friends; and as he rode
away Hall-mund called out to Grettir that he would
remember this meeting, and as it ended in
friendliness he hoped to do him a good turn yet,—that
when every other place of refuge failed he was to
seek him "by the Caldron's side, where the waters
rush and fall, adown the crystal glacier wall" under
Ball-jokull, and there he would give him shelter.

After this Grettir went to the house of his friend
the law-man Skapti, and asked his advice, and whether
he would house him for the ensuing winter.

"No, friend," answered Skapti, "you have been
acting somewhat lawlessly, laying hands on other
men's goods, and this ill becomes a well-born man
such as you.  Now, it would be better for you not to
rob and reive, but get your living in other fashion,
even though it were poorer fare you got, and
sometimes you had to go without food.  I cannot house
you, for I am a law-man, and it would not be proper
for me who lay down the law to shelter such a
notorious law-breaker as yourself.  But I will give
you my advice what to do.  To the north of the
Erick's-jokull is a tangle of lakes and streams.  The
lakes have never been counted they are in such
quantities, and no one knows how to find his way
among them.  These lakes are full of fish, and swarm
with birds in summer.  There is also a little creeping
willow growing in the sand, and some scanty grass.  It
is only one hard day's ride over the waste to Biarg,
so that your mother can supply you thence with
those things of which you stand in absolute need, as
clothing, and you can fish and kill birds for your
subsistence, and will have no need to rob folk and
exact food from the bonders, thereby making
yourself a common object of terror and dislike.  One
more piece of advice I give you—Beware how you
trust anyone to be with you."

Grettir thought this advice was good—only in one
point was it hard for him to follow.  He was haunted
with these fearful dreams at night which followed the
wrestle with Glam, and in the long darkness of
winter the dreadful eyes stared at him from every
quarter whither he turned his, so that it was
unendurable for him to be alone in the dark.

Still—he went.  He followed up the White River
to the desert strewn with lakes from which that river
flowed, and there found himself in utter solitude and
desolation.

A good map of Iceland was made in 1844, and on
that fifty-three lakes are marked, but the smaller
tarns were not all set down.  In such a tangle of
water and moor Grettir might be in comparative
security.  He settled himself on a spot of land that
runs out into the waters of the largest of the sheets
of water, which goes by the name of the Great Eagle
Lake, and thereon he built himself a hovel of stones
and turf, the ruins of which remain to this day, and
I have examined them.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`ON THE GREAT EAGLE LAKE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   ON THE GREAT EAGLE LAKE.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Ruins of the Hut—Erick's-jokull—A Craving for
   Companionship—A Traitor—Grim Tries to Kill
   Grettir—Redbeard Undertakes the Task—Redbeard's
   Stratagem—A Base Fellow—Grettir sinks to the
   Bottom—Caught in his own Trap—Grettir attacked
   by Thorir—The Attack Baffled—The Guardian of
   Grettir's Back—A Summer with Hallmund*

.. vspace:: 2

Grettir was settled now on the Great Eagle
Lake.  This lake is shaped like the figure 8,
only that the spot of land between the upper and
lower portion of the lake does not run quite across.
On one side of this spot the rock falls away precipitously
into the water, whereas it slopes on the other.
If I had had a spade and pick, and if there had been
more grass on the moor so as to allow of a longer
stay, I would have dug about the foundations of
Grettir's hut, and, who can tell!  I might perhaps
have found some relic of him.  There is no record of
anyone else having inhabited it since he was there,
and in the middle of the 13th century, when the
Saga of Grettir was committed to writing, there
remained the ruins of his hut, but no one lived at
the place.  Now there is no human habitation for
many miles; the lake was a day's journey on
horseback from the nearest farm, where I had spent the
night.  You must get some idea of the place where
now for some years Grettir was to live.

The moor is made up of rock split to fragments
by the frost, and with wide tracts between the ridges
of rock strewn with black volcanic ash and sand.  It
lies high; when I camped out there at the end of
June, there was no grass visible, only angelica shoots,
and a little trailing willow, so that my horses had to
feed on these.  The willow does not rise above the
surface of the ground, but its roots trail long distances
under the surface, groping for nutriment; and for
fuel one has to dig out these roots with one's fingers,
and employ those which are dryest.  Every dip in
the moor is filled with a lake, and every lake has in
it a pair of swans; in addition there are abundance of
other wild fowl, and on the moor are ptarmigan that
live on the flowers of the whortle or blae-berry.

Above the rolling horizon of moor, to the south
rises the great snowy dome of Erick's-jokull.  This
is in reality a huge volcano, with precipitous sides
of black lava towering up like an immense giant's
castle.  The great crater has been choked up with
the snow of centuries, and the snow in falling
had piled up a vast cupola of snow and ice standing
high above the black walls, and sliding and falling
over the edges in a succession of avalanches.  When,
at eleven o'clock at night, I looked out of my tent at
Erick's-jokull, the scene was sublime.  The sun had
just gone under the northern horizon of snow and
hill, but shone on the great dome of Erick's-jokull,
turning it to the purest and most delicate rose colour,
and the walls of upright basalt that sustained the
dome were of the purple of a plum.  Grettir obtained
nets and a boat from home, and such things as he
wanted for his hut.  One great advantage of his
present situation was that three different roads or
rather tracks led to it from Biarg, so that those who
wanted to come to him from home could select their
way and avoid observation, till they got among the
lakes, when they were in a labyrinth in which anyone
might easily be lost, and any one could escape a pursuer.
It is true that it was a long and arduous day's ride
from Biarg to the Eagle Lake, but the whole of the
course along each of the ways lay through
uninhabited land.

Now, when other outlaws heard that Grettir was
on the Eagle Lake Heath, they had a mind to join
themselves to him, and Grettir was not unwilling to
have a companion, so lonely did he feel on this waste,
and also so fearful was he of being by himself in the
dark.

There was a man called Grim, who was an outlaw;
and Grettir's enemies made a bargain with him, that
he should go to the Eagle Lake Heath, pretend to be
friends with Grettir, seek opportunity, and kill him.
They on their side undertook, if he would do this, to
get his sentence of outlawry reversed, and to furnish
him liberally with money.

Accordingly he went to the moor, and after some
trouble, found Grettir, and asked if he might live
with him.

Grettir replied, "I do not much relish such company
as yours, for you have got into outlawry through very
infamous deeds.  I mistrust you; nevertheless I will
suffer you to remain if you work hard and be obedient.
I do not want idle hands here."

Grim said he was willing, and prayed hard that he
might dwell there, and carried his point.  He
remained with Grettir the whole of the winter; there
was not much friendship between them.  Grettir
mistrusted him all along, and was never parted from
his weapons, night or day, and Grim did not venture
to attack him whilst he was awake.

But one morning, when Grim came in from fishing,
he went into the hut and stamped his foot and made
a noise, seeing that Grettir lay in his bed asleep;
and he was desirous to know how soundly he slept.
Grettir did not start and open his eyes, but lay quite
still.  Then Grim made more noise, thinking that if
Grettir were awake he would chide him; but Grettir
made no motion.  Then Grim made sure that he was
fast asleep, and he stepped to his side.  Now, the
short sword that had been taken out of the barrow
of Karr the Old hung above the bed-head.  Grim
leaned over Grettir and laid hold of the sword, and
put both hands to it to draw it out of the sheath.
At that instant Grettir started up, caught Grim round
the waist and flung him backwards so that he was
stunned, and the sword fell from his hand.  So
Grettir made him confess that he had been bribed
to set on him and murder him.  And then Grettir
would have no more of him, and resolved to live
entirely alone.  Yet—directly he was alone, his
dreams, and his horror of the dark, returned on him.
Now, Thorir of Garth heard of an outlaw named
Thorir Redbeard, a very big man, who for murder
had been outlawed, and was therefore in hiding
somewhere.  Thorir of Garth sent out messengers
in search of him, and at last brought about a
meeting, and then he offered him a great deal of
money if he would kill Grettir.  Redbeard said
it was no easy task, for that Grettir was wise and wary.

"It is because it is no easy task that I set you to
do it," said Thorir of Garth.  "You are no milksop
to do easy jobs."

This flattered Redbeard, and he undertook to do
what was required.  He came out on the Eagle Lake
Heath in the autumn after that winter when Grim
had been with Grettir and made the attempt on his
life.  Grettir was feeling uneasy and troubled, as the
days grew shorter, with the eyes that he thought
stared at him from every quarter, and although his
judgment prompted him to refuse hospitality to
Redbeard, yet his dread of being alone in the dark
induced him to disregard his doubts.  So he
reluctantly admitted Redbeard to be an inmate of his cot.

"Now, mind this," said Grettir.  "I let a man be
with me here last winter, and he lay wait for my
life.  If I find that you are false, then I shall not
spare you."

Redbeard said he wished for nothing else; and so
Grettir received him, and found him to be a very
powerful man, and so energetic that he was of the
greatest assistance to Grettir.

Redbeard was with him all that winter (1019-1020)
and found no occasion on which he could
take Grettir unawares.  Then set in the next winter
1020-1021, and Redbeard had begun to loathe his
life on the heath, and no wonder, for he saw no one
save Grettir; the cold and desolation of the spot was
surpassingly wretched.  Now he became impatient
to kill Grettir and get away.

One night a great storm broke over the moor
whilst he and Grettir were asleep.  The roar of the
wind woke Redbeard and he ran outside the hut,
down to the water-side, and with a huge stone he
smashed the fishing-boat, so that it sank; and the
oars and bits he had broken off he threw away into
the lake.  So did he with the nets.

When he came in Grettir was awake also, and he
asked how fared the boat.

"She has broken from her mooring," answered
Redbeard, "and has been dashed to bits on the rocks."

Then Grettir jumped up, and taking his weapons
ran out to the end of the spit of land on which his
hut was built, and saw how the nets were drifting
in the waves and were entangled with the oars.

"Jump in, swim out, and bring them to shore,"
said he to Redbeard.  The man shook his head and
answered:

"I can do anything save swim.  I have not held
back from any other work you have set me, but
swim I cannot."

Then Grettir laid his weapons down by the
waterside and prepared to jump in.  But he mistrusted
Redbeard, so he said, "I will get in the nets, as you
cannot; but I trust you will not deal treacherously
by me."

Redbeard answered, "I should be a base fellow
and unworthy to live if I were false to you
now—after you have housed me so long."

Then Grettir put off his clothes, and went into the
water, and swam out to the nets.

He swept them up together and brought them
towards the land, and cast them up on the bank;
but the moment he attempted to land Redbeard
caught up the short sword, drew it hastily and ran
at Grettir and smote at him, just as he was heaving
himself up out of the water.  The blade would have
cut into his neck, or between his shoulder-blades, had
not Grettir instantly let go, and fallen backwards
into the water and sunk like a stone.  Sinking thus
headlong he reached the bottom, and instead of rising
to the surface again he clung to the rocks under
water, and groped his way along as close as he could
to the bank, so that Redbeard might not see him
till he had reached the back of the creek and got
aland.

Now, Redbeard stood at the end of the promontory,
looking into the water, much puzzled.  He had not
cut Grettir with the sword, and yet Grettir was
gone down, and did not rise.  He thought he must
have struck his head against a stone, and so have
sunk, and he looked out into the water wondering
where and when he would rise.  Meanwhile Grettir
had come ashore behind him and was approaching
stealthily.  Redbeard was unaware of his danger
till Grettir had his arms about him, had heaved him
over his head and dashed him down on the rocks, so
that his skull was broken.  After that Grettir resolved
not to take another outlaw into his house, though he
could hardly endure to be alone.

Thorir of Garth did not hear of the death of Redbeard
till next summer at the great assize; and then
he was so angry, and so resolved to make an end of
Grettir, that he collected a body of resolute men, his
servants and others whom he hired for the purpose,
to the number of nearly eighty, to sweep the Eagle
Lake Heath and take and kill Grettir.

One day, when Grettir was out on the moor, he
saw a large body of armed men riding towards the
lake.  He had time to fly to a hill that rises at a
little distance, where there is a rift in the rock that
traverses the top of the hill.  When I read the
account in the saga I could not quite understand
what follows, but no sooner was I on the spot than
all appeared quite clear.  One could see, at once,
that Grettir, taken by surprise, would run to this
very spot and no other.  It was the nearest available
place of vantage, with stone and crag.  The situation
was not the best that might have been chosen, as it
left Grettir's back unprotected; however, he had no
time to seek a better.

.. _`GRETTIR ATTACKED IN THE RIFT BY THORIR'S PARTY`:

.. figure:: images/img-261.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: GRETTIR ATTACKED IN THE RIFT BY THORIR'S PARTY.

   GRETTIR ATTACKED IN THE RIFT BY THORIR'S PARTY.

Thorir came with his men to the bottom of the
hill, and shouted to Grettir and taunted him.

Grettir replied, "Though you may have put the
spoon to your lips you have not swallowed the
broth."

Then Thorir egged on his men to go up the slope
at Grettir, but this was not easy.  It was steep, and
the rocks were close on either side so that Grettir
could not be surrounded.  Only one man could get
at him from before at once.  Several attempts were
made, but all failed; some of the assailants were
killed, some wounded.  Then Thorir broke up his
party into two, and sent one detachment round to
the back of the rocks, to fall on Grettir from behind.
Grettir saw the manoeuvre, and did not see how to
meet it.  All he could do would be to sell his life
dearly.  He could not hold out long when assailed
simultaneously from before and behind.

Thorir bade the attack slacken till he thought
those sent to the rear would be ready, and then he
ordered a grand, and, as he believed, a combined
assault.  Grettir fought with desperation, expecting
every moment to be cut down from behind, but to
his surprise and that of Thorir he was left unmolested
in the rear.

Thorir called off his men, and went round the hill
to inquire why the attack from behind had not taken
place.  To his amazement he came on a discomfited
party bleeding, faint, and baffled, and to find that
twelve men had fallen in it.[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] At the time, or rather shortly after
I had been on the spot, I wrote,
"There is a nook like a sentry-box
in the side of the cleft, and it was in this
that Hallmund ensconced himself,
so that he could hew down anyone who
attempted to pass through this cleft
to get at Grettir's back, whilst remaining
himself screened from observation.
I could not understand the saga
account before I saw the spot,
and how it was that those attacking Grettir
from behind did not see Hallmund.
The sight of the place made all plain."

.. vspace:: 2

Then he bade a retreat.  "Oft," he said, "have I
heard that Grettir is a man of marvel for prowess,
but I never knew before that he was a wizard, and
able to kill as many at his back as he does in front
of him."

When he numbered his men, Thorir found that he
had lost eighteen.  Then he and his retinue rode
away, and they carried on them many and grievous
wounds.

Now Grettir was no less perplexed with the event
than was Thorir, and when the latter had withdrawn
he went through the rift in the rocks to see why he
had not been fallen on from the rear,—and he lighted
on a tall strong man leaning against the rocks, sore
wounded.

Grettir asked his name, and the tall man replied
that he was Hallmund.

"Do you remember meeting me on the heath one
day?" asked the wounded man, "when you tried to
stop my horse, and I pulled the reins through your
hands so as to skin the palms'?  Then I promised if
I had the chance to back you up."

"Indeed," said Grettir, much moved, "I remember
that right well, and now I thank you with all my
heart, for this day you have saved my life."

Then Hallmund said, "You must now come with
me, for time must drag with you solitary here on the
heath."

Grettir said he was glad to accept the offer; so
they went together south to the Ball-jokull, and
there Hallmund had a great cave, and his daughter,
a big muscular girl, lived there with him; there the
girl applied plasters to the wounds of her father and
healed him.

Grettir remained with them in the cave all the
ensuing summer.  But when summer came to an
end, he wearied of being so long in the desert, and
longed to see and be with his fellow-men in inhabited
parts once more; so he bade farewell to Hallmund,
and went away to the west to Hit-dale that opens on
the Marshland, through which six or seven large
rivers flow.  Here he had a friend named Biorn
living at Holm.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`ON THE FELL`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   ON THE FELL.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Hollow of Fairwood Fell—Above the Shale
   Slide—The Outlaw's Lair—The Boaster—A Dandified
   Warrior—Hunter and Hunted—A Skin-dressing—Sadder
   and Wiser*

.. vspace:: 2

Biorn when asked by Grettir to give him shelter
declined to do so, not that the will was lacking,
but that he had not the power to protect him.  "You
have made," he said, "enemies on all sides, and if I
were to take you under my roof all your enemies
would become mine also, and I would be involved
in endless and bitter quarrels.  I cannot give you
direct assistance and shelter, but indirectly I will do
what I can for you.  There is a long hill, called
Fairwood Fell, that runs in front of my house
on the other side of the river, and ends just above
the marshes.  Now, in one place there is a steep shale
slide, and above this is a hollow through the mountain,
that might very well be made into a dry and
comfortable place of abode.  From the entrance every one
who passes along the highway, all who come across
the marshes, can be seen.  I can supply you with a
few necessaries to fit the place up, but when there
you must shift for yourself.  I must not risk too
much by supporting you."

Grettir consented to this.  So he went up to
Fairwood Fell and built up the cave, and hung gray
wadmal before the entrance, so that no one below
could notice that there was anything peculiar or
anyone living there.  In this eagle's nest among the
rocks Grettir spent the time from the autumn of
1022 to the spring of 1024, that is, two winters.
Whatever fuel he wanted, all he had to eat, everything
he wanted, had to be carried up this slippery
and steep ascent by him.  Down the shale slide he
came when short of provisions, and went over the
marshes to this or that farm and demanded or carried
off, sometimes a sheep, sometimes curds, dried fish,
in a word what he required; and a very great nuisance
the men of the district found him.  Heartily did they
wish they were rid of him, yet they could not drive
him from his place of abode, for it was so difficult of
access and so easy of defence.

Now, some years ago, in the summer of 1862,
the year after I was in Iceland, a very similar lair
which Grettir inhabited a little later in the east of
Iceland was explored by an Icelandic farmer.  This
is his description of it: "The lair stands in the lower
part of a slip of stones beneath some sheer rocks.
It is built up of stones, straight as a line 4-3/4 ells long
and 10 inches wide, and is within the walls 7/8 of an
ell deep.  Half of it is roofed over with flat stones,
small thin splinters of stone are wedged in between
these to fill up the joints, and these are so firmly
fixed that they could not be removed without tools.
One stone in the south wall is so large that it requires
six men to move it.  The north wall is beginning to
give way.  On the outside the walls are overgrown
with black lichen and gray moss."

Something like this was the den of Grettir on the
Fairwood Fell, but it was less built up, as he had the
natural rock for two of the sides and for the roof.

Whilst Grettir was there, there came a ship into
harbour, in which was a man named Gisli, a merchant,
very fond of wearing smart clothes, and an inordinately
vain man.  He heard the farmers talking about
Grettir, and what a vexation it was to them to have
him in their neighbourhood.

"Don't talk to me about Grettir," said Gisli; "I've
had battles with harder men than he.  I hope he
may came in my way, that I may dress his skin for him."

The farmer to whom he said this shook his head.
"You don't know of whom you are speaking.  If you
were to kill him you would be well off,—six marks
of silver were set on his head, and Thorir of Garth has
added three more, so that there stand on him nine
marks of silver."

"All things can be done for money," said Gisli;
"and as I am a merchant I'll see to it.  And when
we meet—I'll dress his skin for him."

The farmer said it would be well not to talk about
the matter.  Gisli agreed.  "I will abide this winter
in Snowfell-ness," he said.  "If his lair is on my road
thither I'll look out for him, and dress his skin as I
go along."

Now, whether he talked in spite of the caution given
him, or whether some one overheard what he said, who
was a friend of Biorn of Holm, is uncertain.  Any
how Gisli's threat reached the ears of Biorn, who at
once warned Grettir to be on his guard against the
merchant.

"If he comes your way," said Biorn, "teach him a
lesson; but don't kill him."

"No," said Grettir with a grim smile, "I'll merely
dress his skin for him."

Now it happened one day that Grettir was looking
out of the entrance to his lair, when he saw a man
with two attendants riding along the highway.  His
kirtle was of scarlet, and his helmet and shield flashed
in the sun.  Then it occurred to him that this must
be the dandified Gisli, of whom he had heard, so he
came running down the shale descent to the road.
He reached the man, and at once he went to his
horse, clapped his hand on a bundle of clothes behind
the saddle, and said, "This I am going to take."

"Nay, not so," answered Gisli, for it was he.
"You do not know whom you are addressing."

"Nor do I care," said Grettir.  "I have little
respect for persons.  I am in poor and lowly
condition myself, so low that I am driven to be a
highway robber."

Then Gisli drew his sword, and called to his men
to attack Grettir, who gave way a little before them.
But he soon saw that Gisli kept behind his servants,
and never risked himself where the blows fell; so
Grettir put the two churls aside with well-dealt
strokes, and went direct upon the merchant, who,
seeing that he was menaced, turned and took to his
heels.  Grettir pursued him, and Gisli in his fear
cast aside his shield, then, a little further, threw
away his helmet, and so as he ran he cast away one
thing after another that he had with him.  There
was a heavy purse of silver at his girdle.  This
encumbered him, and as he ran he unbuckled his
belt and dropped it and the purse with it.  Grettir
did not purposely come up with him; he could have
outstripped him had he willed, but he let the fellow
run a couple of horse lengths before him.  The end
of the Fell is above an old lava bed that has flowed
from a crater called Eldborg or the Castle of Fire, and
like an old ruined castle it looks.  Gisli ran over
this lava bed, jumping the cracks, then dived through
a wood of birch that intervened between the lava
and the river Haf.  The stream was swollen with
ice, and ill to ford.  Gisli halted hesitating before
plunging in, and that allowed Grettir to run in on
him, seize him and throw him down.

"Are you the Gisli who were so eager to meet
Grettir Asmund's son?" asked the outlaw.

"I have had enough of him," gasped the fallen
man.  "Keep my saddle-bags and what I have
thrown away, and let me go free."

"Hardly yet," said Grettir grimly.  "I think
something was said about skin-dressing, that is not
to be overlooked."

Then Grettir drew him back to the wood, took a
good handful of birch rods, pulled Gisli's clothes up
over his head, and laid the twigs against his back in
none of the gentlest fashion.  Gisli danced and
skipped about, but Grettir had him by his garments
twisted about his head and neck, and continued to
flog till the poor fellow threw himself down on the
ground screaming.  Then Grettir let go, and went
quietly back to his lair, picking up as he went the
purse and the belt, the shield, casque, and whatever
else Gisli had thrown away, also he had the contents
of his saddle-bags.

Gisli never came back to Fairwood Fell to ask for
them.  When he got on his legs he ran up the river
to where it was not so dangerous, swam it, and
reached a farmhouse, where he entreated to be taken
in.  There he lay a week with his body swollen and
striped; after which he went home, and much was
he laughed at for his adventure with Grettir.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE FIGHT ON THE RIVER`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE FIGHT ON THE RIVER.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Angry Farmers—A Large Band of Men—The Marshmen
   are Driven Back—The Attacking Party Reinforced—Fighting
   in Desperation—Wearied but Unwounded—The Song of
   Victory*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, whilst Grettir was on Fairwood Fell,
favoured by Biorn of Hit-dale, his presence after
a while became unendurable to the bonders who
lived in the marshes.  He had been for two winters
in his den on the hill, and when they saw that he
intended to remain there a third winter, and rob
them of sheep and whatever he needed, then they
took counsel together how they might rid
themselves of the annoyance.

One day in the winter of 1023, Grettir came
down from his place of vantage, and went over the
marshes to a farm called Acres, and drove away
from it two bullocks fit for slaughtering, and several
sheep, and he had got on with them some way over
the marshes, on his way to his lair, before the
farmer at Acres was aware of his loss; he had taken
six wethers beside from another farm named Brookbend.
This angered the farmers greatly, and they
sent a message to the chief man of the district,
Thord at Hitness, and urged him to waylay Grettir
before he could reach his den.  Thord shrank from
doing anything; however, they pressed him so much
that at last he consented to let his son Arnor go
with them.  Then messengers were sent throughout
all the country side, to every farmer who was
concerned.  And it was so planned that two bodies of
men should march to the taking of Grettir, one on
the right, the other on the left bank of the Hit
River, so as to take him for certain.

Grettir was soon aware that the country was
roused.  He was not alone, he had two men with
him—one the son of the farmer at Fairwood Fell, with
whom he was on good terms, the other a farm-servant.
They advised him to desert the cattle and
sheep and run for it, cross the river and take
refuge in his place of vantage; but this Grettir was too
proud to do.

Presently he could see coming on behind him a
large band of men, about twenty in all, under
Thorarin of Acres and Thorfin of Brookbend.  Now, as
these were pursuing him over the marshes, up the
opposite side of the river came Arnor, the son of
Thord of Hitness, and with him a farmer named
Biarni of Jorvi.

Grettir managed to reach the river before his
enemies came up with him, and he had also time to
secure a place of vantage.  This was a ness of rock
that ran out into the river, or round which the river
swept, so that he was protected by the water on all
sides but one.  Grettir said to the two men with
him, that they must guard his back, see that none
came up the sides in his rear, and then he took his
short-sword in both his hands, planted his feet wide
apart on the rock, and prepared to sell his life dear.

The party headed by Thorarin of Acres and
Thorfin of Brookbend came up, twenty in all,—but
more were coming, for Thorarin had begun the
pursuit before all the farmers were collected, and he
knew that a body of some twenty or thirty more
would arrive before long.  Thorarin himself was an
old man, and he did not enter into the fray, but
urged on his men.

The fight was hard.  Grettir was not easily
reached where he stood, and he smote at all who
approached.  Some of the Marshmen fell, and several
were wounded.  In vain did they attempt to
dislodge him by combined rushes, he drove them over
the edge into the water, or cut them down with his
sword.  At last his arm was weary, and he called
to the farmer's son to step into his place.  He did
so, and held the ground valiantly, whilst Grettir
rested.  Then the party drew back, discomfited.  At
that moment up came the fresh body of men under
Thrand, the brother of Thorarin of Acres, and
Stonewolf of Lavadale.  These egged on their men eagerly,
and they thought they would obtain an easy victory,
for Grettir had been fighting for some time, and was weary.

Then Thorarin of Acres called out and advised delay.

"For," said he, "the third party of men under
Arnor and Biarni of Jorvi have not come up on the
other side of the river."

This piece of advice was rejected by the
newcomers.  What did they want with more men?
They were a large party, fresh and untired, and
Grettir had but two men with him, and they were
wearied with fighting.  So the signal was given for
the onslaught.

Then Grettir saw that he must either jump into
the river, swim across, and desert the sheep and
bullocks he had driven there, or use almost
superhuman exertions to defend himself.

His position was, indeed, desperate; for, even if
he did hold his own against this second body of
men, a third was on its way up the other bank of
the river to intercept him on his way up to the
Fell.  For one moment he hesitated, and then was
resolved.  No, he would not run.  He would die
there, and die only after having strewn the ground
with his foes.  Foremost among his assailants was
Stonewolf of Lavadale, and Grettir made a sudden
rush at him, and with a tremendous stroke of his
sword he clove his head down to the shoulders.
Thrand, who sprang forward to avenge him, Grettir
struck on the thigh, and the blow took off all the
muscle, and he fell, crippled for life.  Then Grettir
fell back to his place of safety, and dared others to
come on.  They sprang out on the neck of rock,
but would not meet his weapon, one after another
fell or was beaten back.

Then Thorarin cried out, and bade all draw off.

"The longer ye fight," said he, "the worse ye
fare.  He picks out what men among you he chooses."

The party withdrew, and there were ten men
fallen, and five had received mortal wounds, or were
crippled; and hardly one of the two parties was
without some hurt or other.

Grettir, moreover, was marvellously wearied, but
had received no wounds to speak of.

Now, hardly had the men withdrawn, carrying
their dead and wounded, than up came the third
detachment under Arnor and Biarni, on the other
side of the river.  There can be no question but that,
had they crossed and fallen on Grettir, he could not
have defended himself longer, so overcome was he
with weariness; but Arnor knew that his father
had entered on the matter reluctantly, and he was
discouraged by the ill-success of the other companies.
Consequently, he neither waded through the river
at the ford, a little higher, nor did he maintain his
ground and cut off Grettir's retreat.  Instead, he
withdrew with all his men, and left Grettir to
recover his strength, and cross and escape to the Fell.
This conduct of Arnor provoked much comment;
and he was accused of cowardice, an accusation that
clung to him through life.  Even his father
rebuked him, for the father saw what discredit he had
brought upon himself.

The point on the river Hit where this affray took
place is still shown; and is called Grettir's-point to
this day.

When the fight was over Grettir and the two
men went to the Fell, and as they passed the farm
the farmer's daughter came out of the door, and
asked for tidings.

Then Grettir sang:—

   |  "Brewer of strong barley-corn,
   |  Pourer forth of drinking-horn,
   |  Lo! to-day the Stonewolf fell,
   |  Ne'er again his head be well.
   |  Many more have got their bane,
   |  Many in their blood lie slain;
   |  Little life has Thorgils now,
   |  After that bone-breaking blow.
   |  Eight upon the river's bank
   |  In their gore expiring sank."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A MYSTERIOUS VALE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   A MYSTERIOUS VALE.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Dome of Snow—Cold Dale—A Fair Valley—The
   Mottled Ewe—With Thorir and his Daughters—The
   Stone on Broad-shield—Thorir's Cave*

.. vspace:: 2

In the spring of 1024 Grettir went away from
Fairwood Fell; for he had been there so long,
and had preyed for such a time on the bonders of the
marshes, that he himself saw that it would be best
for him to remove into quite another part of the
island.  So he visited his friend Hallmund once
more, under the ice of Ball-jokull, and Hallmund
advised him where to go.  He could not give him
hospitality himself that winter, because his stock of
goods was run so short that it would hardly suffice
for his daughter and himself; but he told him of a
valley unknown to anyone, save a friend of his
called Thorir and himself.  And he informed him
how it was to be reached.

Now, as already said, there are passes in Iceland
between the several blocks of ice mountains, and
such a pass exists between Goatland-jokull and a
curious domed snowy mountain called Ok.  The
pass is called the Cold Dale, because it lies for many
hours ride between ice mountains, and under the
precipitous Goatland-jokull, whose rocks are crowned
with green ice that falls over incessantly in great
avalanches.  It is seven hours' ride from one blade of
grass to another through that dale.  I went through
it on midsummer-day, and saw the bones of horses
lying about that had died unable to get through;
perhaps becoming lame or exhausted on the way.

Half through this long trough of the Cold Dale
stands up a buttress of rock, or rather a sort of ness,
projecting from Goatland-jokull, so precipitous that
hardly any snow rests on it, and this is called the
Half-way Fell.

Now, Hallmund told Grettir he must go through
the Cold Dale till he reached the Half-way Fell,
and there he must strike up over the snow and
glaciers of Goatland-jokull, due south, and he would
all at once drop into a valley known to few.

So Grettir went up the moor till he struck the
White River, that flowed out of the Eagle Lakes he
knew so well, and under the cliffs and icy crown of
Erick's-jokull, then he climbed over broken trachyte
rocks for several hundreds of feet, till he found
himself in the Cold Dale, and along that he trudged till
he had reached Half-way Fell, standing up like a
wall as though to stop the pass.  There he turned
to the left, and as at this point Goatland is no
longer precipitous, but slopes in a series of steps to
the Cold Dale, he climbed up through the snow, a
long and tedious ascent, till he stood on the neck of
the mountain, and there he saw that the snow slopes
fell away rapidly to the south, and he descended and
soon beheld before him a valley in which were a great
many boiling springs that threw up clouds of steam,
and he saw also, what greatly pleased him, that
there was rich and abundant grass in this valley.
This is what the saga says: "The dale was long
and somewhat narrow, locked up by glaciers all
round, in such a manner that the ice walls
overhung the dale.  He scrambled down into it, as best
he could, and there he saw fair hillsides grass-grown
and set with bushes.  Hot springs were
there, and it appeared to him that it was the
earth-fires which prevented the ice walls from closing in
on the valley.  A little river ran down the dale,
with level banks.  The sun rarely shone into the
valley; but the number of sheep there could hardly
be reckoned, they were so many; and nowhere had
he seen any so fat and in such good condition."

Grettir did not see Thorir, Hallmund's friend, at
first; so he built himself a hut of such wood as he
could get, and with turf.  He killed the sheep he
wanted, and found that there was more meat on one
of them than on two elsewhere.

The Saga says:—

"There was one ewe there, brown mottled, with
a lamb, and she was a beauty.  Grettir killed the
lamb, and took three stone of suet off it, the meat
was some of the best he had ever eaten.  But when
the mottled ewe missed her lamb, she went up on
Grettir's hut every night, and bleated so plaintively
as to trouble his sleep, and made Grettir quite
troubled that he had killed her lamb."

Now Grettir noticed that at evening the sheep
ran in one direction, and once or twice he heard a
call; so he went after the sheep one evening, and was
led by them to the hut where Thorir dwelt.  He
was a strange man, who had spent so many years
away from the society of his fellow-men as not to
care any more to meet them, so he did not welcome
Grettir very warmly.  However he had three
daughters, and they were glad to have someone to talk
to, and as the winter crept on Thorir himself
became more amiable, and so the winter did not pass
as drearily as Grettir had feared it would.  He sang
his songs and related stories, and the party played
draughts with knuckle-bones of sheep.

When spring came, however, he was fain to go;
and he did not leave by the way he came, but
followed the little river, and it led him out between
rock and glaciers into a piece of desert, covered with
lava beds that have poured out of a volcano, or
rather two that stand opposite this entrance to
Thorir's valley.  These two volcanoes are quite unlike
each other, though side by side, one, called Hlothu-fell
has upright walls, like Erick's-jokull, and a
crater filled up and brimming over with ice; but
the other Skialdbreith, or the Broad-shield, is like
a conical round silver shield laid on the ground.
The entrance to Thorir's Dale is completely hidden
by a round snowy mountain that blocks it, and then
a second snowy mountain stands further out in front
of the opening, so that not a sign of any valley can
be seen from anywhere.

So difficult did Grettir think it would be to find
it, that he ascended on Broad-shield and set up a
stone there with a hole in it, so that anyone
looking through this hole would see directly into the
narrow entrance of Thorir's Dale.  This stone still
stands where Grettir had placed it; but has sunk on
one side, so that by looking through the hole the
eye is no longer directed to the entrance.

No one had ever visited Thorir's Dale since Grettir
left it till the year 1654, when it was explored by
two Icelandic clergymen, and an account of their
expedition in Icelandic is to be found in the British
Museum.[#]  The valley as far as I know has not
been explored since.  It is marked on the map of
Iceland, but apparently from the description left by
the two clergymen, not from any visit made to it
by the map-maker.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] I have given a translation of it
in my *Curiosities of Olden Times*, London, Hayes, 1869.

.. vspace:: 2

When the two men visited the valley they went
to it in the same way as did Grettir.  They found no
hot springs, and the valley was utterly barren; but
then they had no time to descend it, they only
looked down on it from above.  They found the cave
with a door, and a window to it, which was probably
the habitation of Thorir and his daughters.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE DEATH OF HALLMUND`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE DEATH OF HALLMUND.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grim's Fish Disappear—The Thief Wounded and
   Tracked—Death of Hallmund*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, there was a man called Grim, who was an
outlaw for his ill-deeds, and he thought that
as Grettir no longer abode in his hut on the Eagle
Lake, he might go there and occupy it.  This did not
please Hallmund, for Grettir had left him his nets,
and he was wont to fish in the lake.

Grim had supplied himself with nets, and he one
day caught a hundred char, large red-fleshed fish,
delicious eating; so he piled them up outside his
hut.  Next morning to his great surprise all his
char had disappeared.  Then he went fishing again,
and caught even more fish, and he brought them to
land, and heaped them up as before.

Next morning they also had disappeared.

He could not understand it; so he fished again,
and had on this occasion extraordinary luck: he
must have netted nearly three hundred fish.  He
brought them home, and put them in the same
place as before; but he did not go to sleep this
time: he remained within, and watched his store
through a peep-hole in the door.

During the night he heard someone who trod
heavily coming along the ness, and then he saw a
man picking up his fish, and putting them into a
basket he had on his back.  Grim watched till he
had filled the basket, which he now heaved upon
his shoulders.  Instantly Grim threw open the
door, rushed out, and whilst the man was still
stooping adjusting his load, he swung up a very sharp
axe he held, holding it in both hands, and smote at
the man's neck.  The axe hit the basket, and that
somewhat broke its force, but it glanced aside and
sank into the shoulder.  Then the man started aside,
and set off running with the basket to the south,
skirting a lava field that had flowed out of
Erick's-jokull, and which now goes by the name of
Hallmund's Lava-bed.

Grim ran after him, and saw that he was making
for Ball-jokull; but the man, who was of great
size and strength, though wounded and losing blood,
ran on, and did not stay till he reached a cave in
the face of the cliff, above which was the ice, and
with long icicles hanging over the front.  Into this
he entered.  There was a fire burning inside, and a
young woman sitting by it.

Grim heard her welcome the man, and call him
her father, and name him Hallmund.  He cast his
basket of fish down, and groaned aloud.

Then the girl saw that blood was flowing from
him, and she asked him what had happened.

Hallmund told what had befallen him, and said
that he was wounded to the death, and that he
trusted Grettir would avenge him, for he had no
other friend to do so.

After that Hallmund began a lay, and sang the
history of his life, the achievements he had wrought,
and he sang on till his breath failed, and either he was
unable to finish his lay, or Grim could not remember
all of it.  A good deal, however, of Hallmund's
death-song has been retained and is given in the saga.

But Hallmund's hope or expectation that Grettir
would avenge him was disappointed, for Grim
managed to get away from Iceland, and did not
return to it again during the lifetime of Grettir.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF ANOTHER ATTEMPT AGAINST GRETTIR`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF ANOTHER ATTEMPT AGAINST GRETTIR.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Thorir raises a Party against Grettir—Grettir
   plays the Herdsman—A Daring Trick—Thorir a
   Laughing-Stock*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, during the summer, tidings came to Thorir
of Garth that Grettir was somewhere about on
Reekheath in the north-east.  There was his lair
which was examined a few years ago, and which
remains in tolerable condition, as already mentioned
when his lair at Fairwood Fell was described.  Now,
Thorir of Garth, when he got this tidings was
resolved to make another attempt to kill him; and
no wonder, for with singular audacity Grettir had
come into his neighbourhood.  Grettir no doubt
thought that he had preyed long enough on men
who had not harmed him, and that now he would
prey on the goods and cattle of the man who had
made an outlaw of him, and who pursued him with
such remorseless hostility.  Thorir gathered a
number of men together and went in pursuit of Grettir.
Grettir was not at that time in his den but out on
the moor, and he was near a mountain-dairy that
stood back somewhat from the wayside, and there
was another man with him, when they spied the party
of Thorir, all armed, coming along.  They had not
been observed, so they hastily led their horses into
the shed attached to the dairy, and concealed
themselves.  Thorir came along, went to the dairy,
looked about to see if anyone were there who could
inform him if Grettir had been seen, noticed only a
couple of horses tied up, but supposed they belonged
to the farmer whose summer dairy this was, and,
without looking further, went on.

As soon as Thorir and his band had gone out of
sight, Grettir crept from his place of hiding, and
said to his companion:

"It is a pity they should have come such a ride
to see me, and should be disappointed.  You watch
the horses, and I will go on and have a word with
them."

"You surely will not be so rash?" exclaimed the
other man.

"I cannot let them come all this way without
exchanging words with me," said Grettir, and
leaving the horses under the care of his comrade, he
strode away over the moor to a place where he was
sure he could be observed.  Now, Grettir had a
slouched hat on and a long staff in his hand, and at
the dairy he had found some clothes belonging to
the herdsman usually there, and these he had put on.

Directly Thorir and his party saw a man with a
staff striding about on the moor they rode to him.
None of them knew Grettir's face, for, indeed, they
had not been given the chance.  So they thought
this great rough man was the herdsman, and they
asked him if he had seen the outlaw Grettir.

"What sort of man is he?" asked Grettir.  "Is he
armed?"

"Armed indeed is he, with a casque on his head,
a long sword, and also a short one in his girdle."

"Is he riding?"

"Most certainly he is."

"Then," said Grettir, "you had better get you
along after him due south; he has gone that way
not so long agone."

When they heard this Thorir and his party struck
spurs into their horses, put them into a gallop, and
away they went as hard as they could in the direction
indicated.  Now, Grettir knew the country very
well, and he was well aware that south of where he
stood were impassable bogs.  Thorir and his fellows
were too eager in pursuit to attend to the nature of
the ground over which they rode; besides, they
thought that if Grettir had ridden that way they
could ride it as well.  They were speedily mistaken,
for in they floundered into a bottomless morass;
some of the horses were in to their saddles; the men
got off and got out with difficulty, and they had
much ado to get their horses out at all.  Indeed,
some were wallowing there more than half the day.
Many curses were heaped on the churl who had
befooled them, but they could not find him when
the went after him to chastise him.

Grettir hastened back to the dairy, mounted his
horse, and rode to Garth itself, whilst the master
was floundering in the bog.  As he came to the
farm he saw a tall, well-dressed girl by the door,
and he asked who she was.  He was told this was
Thorir's daughter.  Then Grettir sang a stave to her,
the meaning of which was that he who came there
was the man whom Thorir was vainly pursuing.

Much laughter was occasioned by this failure of
Thorir to take Grettir when he was in his own
neighbourhood, and by his being so deceived and
befooled by Grettir when he had him in his power.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AT SANDHEAPS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   AT SANDHEAPS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *A Deadly Enemy—In the Service of Steinvor—The
   Way to Church—Crossing the Quivering Flood—The
   Priest's Caution—A Weird Tale—The Old Hag—The
   Stream-churl—Steinvor's Husband's Death—The
   Foundation of the Story—The Troll-woman of
   Grettir—The Basaltic Troll-wife—The Search
   under Goda-foss—Grettir's Dive—The Fight with the
   Stream-churl—Runes of the Fight—A Bag of Bones*

.. vspace:: 2

The summer was passing away, and Grettir could
not remain without shelter through the winter;
so he considered what was best to be done.  He
could not ask any farmer in the north-east to shelter
him, because they were all afraid of Thorir of Garth,
who would have pursued with implacable animosity
the man who befriended and housed the outlaw.
Moreover, Thorir had his spies everywhere, and
Grettir found he had to shift quarters repeatedly to
escape his deadly enemy.

Now, when the first snows fell Grettir sent his man
away with his horses across country to Biarg, and
he went further away from where Thorir was; but
never stayed long anywhere, nor gave his real
name.  He had no relatives in this part of the
island, and no friends.

Now, a little before Yule—that is Christmas—he
came to a farm called Sandheaps, on that river
which is called the Quivering Flood.  This farm
belonged to a widow woman called Steinvor, who
had recently lost her husband.

Grettir came and offered his services; he said his
name was Guest, that he was out of work, and that
he had come there because he heard she was short
of hands.

Steinvor looked at him, and saw that he was a
very powerfully-built man, and that there was a
certain dignity and nobility in his face; so she
accepted him, against the opinion of the rest in the
house, who were frightened at the appearance of
Grettir, and did not know what to make of him,
whether he were an ordinary human being or a wild
man, half mountain-goblin or troll.

It came to pass on Christmas-eve that the widow
Steinvor was very desirous to go to church, but the
church was on the further side of the river, and
there was no bridge.

Grettir heard Steinvor lament that she could not
go to church, so he said bluntly: "You can go.  I
will attend you and see you over the water."

Then she made ready for worship, and took her
little daughter with her.  Now, at times the river
froze hard across, and then it was possible to cross
on the ice.  At other times it might be traversed at
a ford.  But when Grettir came to the side of the
Quivering Flood, it was plain to him that by the ice
the water could not be crossed.  For there had been
a rapid thaw, and now the river was overflowed and
very full of water; and, moreover, it was rolling
down great masses of ice.

When Steinvor saw the condition of the river, she
said, "There is plainly no way across for horse or
man."

"I suppose there is a ford somewhere," said
Grettir.

"Yes," answered Steinvor, "there is a ford at
this place; but I do not see how it is to be traversed."

"I will carry you across," said Grettir.

"Carry over the little maiden first," said the
widow.  "She is the lightest."

"I don't care about making two journeys when
one will suffice," answered Grettir.  "Come, jump
up; I will carry you in my arms."

.. _`FORDING THE QUIVERING FLOOD`:

.. figure:: images/img-297.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: FORDING THE QUIVERING FLOOD.

   FORDING THE QUIVERING FLOOD.

The widow crossed herself, and said, "That will
never do.  How can you manage such a burden?"

But without more ado Grettir caught up Steinvor
on his arm, and then he picked up the little girl
and set her on her mother's lap, and strode into the
water; they were on his left arm, but he kept the
right free.  They were so frightened that they durst
not cry out.  He waded on in the river, and the
water foamed up to his breast; and then he saw a
great ice-floe coming bearing down upon him.  He
put out his right hand, gave the mass of ice a thrust,
and it was whirled past them by the current.  Then
he waded further, and the water washed about his
shoulders, and that was the deepest point.  After
that the river shallowed, and he bore the mother
and child safely to the shore and set them down.

Now Grettir turned to go back, and he took up a
great stone and set it on his head, and so waded
back.  If he had tried to go through the water
without a stone he would have been washed away;
but the great stone on his head enabled him to stand
firm and resist the current of the water.  Those who
have not been through an Icelandic river can hardly
imagine the intensity of the cold.  I have ridden
through these rivers, my horse swimming under me,
and when I reached the further side have thrown
myself off and lain on the sand for a quarter of an
hour before I could recover from the numbness
caused by the deadly cold; for some of these rivers
are as broad as the Thames at London Bridge, and
the water is milky because full of undissolved snow.

When Steinvor reached the church every one was
astonished to see her, and asked how she had
managed to get across the Quivering Flood.  But when
the priest heard the story, he called Steinvor aside,
and said:

"Mind and do not say too much about your new
man; do not talk about his strength, and set folk
a-wondering who he may be.  I have my own
opinion, and I think you will do well to house him,
and say nothing to anyone about his being in any
way remarkable."

And now there comes into the saga of Grettir a
story which is certainly untrue, but how it comes in
can be made out pretty easily.

The real truth was, as the saga writer confesses,
that Grettir remained hidden at Sandheaps all that
winter, and no one in the country round knew that
he was there.  But then, the saga writer did not feel
satisfied with such a dull winter, in which nothing
happened; so, to fill out his story and say
something interesting, he worked into his history a
wonderful tale.  The story, which I tell in my own
words, is this:—

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center large bold

   The Story of the Stream-Troll

.. vspace:: 2

There is on the Quivering Flood some miles below
Sandheaps a mighty foss, or waterfall.  The whole
river pours over a ledge in a thundering, magnificent
cascade.  The stream in the middle is broken
by an island.  You can hear the roar of the falling
water for a long way around, and see the spray
thrown up from the fall like a cloud or column of
steam rising high into the air.  This waterfall is
called Goda-foss, and was long supposed to be the
finest in the island; but there is another, which I
was the first to see, on the Jokull-river, called
Detti-foss, which is infinitely finer, but which is in a
region of utter desert of sand and volcanic crater,
many miles from any human habitation.

It happens that there is a curious black lava rock
standing near the river, higher up than the fall,
which bears a quaint resemblance to an old woman,
and this stone is called The Old Hag; and the story
goes that it is a troll-woman turned to stone.

Now, you must know that throughout Norway and
Iceland, and, indeed, wherever the Scandinavian race
is found, a superstition exists that every river has
its spirit, that lives in the river; and it was held
that these river-spirits demanded a sacrifice of a
human life, at least once a year.  If a sacrifice were
not given to them, then they took some man or
woman, when crossing the water, and carried the
victim away.  And in heathen times there can be
no doubt whatever that human sacrifices were
offered to every river; generally an evildoer or a
prisoner was thrown in and drowned, to propitiate
the Stream-churl, as he was called, so that he should
not snap at and carry off other and more valuable
lives.  Wherever there was a cataract, there the
Stream-churl was believed to live, hidden away
behind the curtain of falling water.  If the stream was
small, then this spirit or demon was small; if,
however, it were a mighty river, then the spirit was a
great troll or giant.  Even to this day in Iceland
and Norway, the ignorant and superstitious believe
that there are these Stream-churls, and tell stories
about them, and cannot but suspect that, when anyone
is drowned, it is the Stream-churl exacting his toll.

Now, it is quite certain that Steinvor, although
she was a Christian, believed in there being a great
Stream-churl living under Goda-foss; and as she had
lost her husband and one of her servants who had
been drowned in the Quivering Flood, she held that
they had been carried off by the Troll of the waterfall.

There had been, as it happened, something
mysterious about the death of Steinvor's husband.  Two
years before Grettir came to Sandheaps, on Christmas-eve,
he had disappeared.  She had gone off to see
some friends at a distance, and when she returned
home next day she heard that her husband had not
been seen—he was gone, and not a trace of him
remained.  It occurred to her that in all probability
he had gone across the river to church, and had been
carried off by the river—that is, by the Stream-churl.
But she could be certain of nothing, and she was
greatly distressed because she could not give his
body burial.  A year passed and not a word about her
husband could she hear.  His body had not be
found anywhere washed up by the river, supposing
he had been drowned.

Next year she lost one of her men-servants in the
same way.  He vanished, and none knew how or
whither he had gone.  If he had run away, she
would probably have had tidings of him; but she
heard none, and his body was also never found.

I have no doubt that she told Grettir about this,
and also that she believed that the Stream-churl
who lived under Goda-foss had carried off both her
husband and the servant.  I believe also that, to
satisfy her, Grettir undertook to look, and that he
actually dived under the fall, and came up and
searched between the sheet of falling water and the
rock, and found—nothing.

That is the foundation of a wonderful story which
has found its way into the saga.  It did not satisfy
those who told the tale of Grettir that he should
have spent the winter at Sandheaps and done
nothing—that he should have dived under Goda-foss
and found nothing.

So by degrees old nursery tales got mixed up with
this incident about Grettir's search for the
Stream-churl, and all was worked into a wonderful story,
which you shall hear.

On that night on which Grettir had carried Steinvor
across the river, he returned to the farm, and
lay down in his bed.

When midnight arrived, then a great din was
heard outside, and presently the hall door was thrown
open and in through it came a gigantic woman, a
Troll-wife, with a trough in one hand and a huge
chopper in the other.

As she entered she peered about her, and saw
Grettir where he lay, and she ran at him.  Then
he jumped up and went to meet her, and they fell
a-wrestling terribly, and struggled together so
furiously, that all the panelling of the hall side was
broken.

She was the stronger, and she dragged Grettir
towards the door, and forth towards the entrance,
in spite of all his efforts.  She had got him as far
as the entrance, when there he made a final struggle,
and in the struggle the door-posts and fittings were
torn from their place, and fell outwards.

Then the Troll-woman laboured away with him
towards the river, and right down towards the gulfs.

Grettir was exceedingly weary, yet he saw that
his only chance was to make a last effort, or be flung
by her over the edge into the deep, boiling river.

All night they contended in such fashion, and
ever was he drawing nearer to the edge.  But just
as she was preparing to fling him into the water, he
got his right hand free, and he swiftly seized his
short-sword, and struck off her arm; and at that
moment the sun rose, and the Troll-woman was
turned into stone.  There she stands with her
amputated arm-socket, as a mass of black basalt or lava
to this day.

If the reader will recall the story of Grettir's
struggle with Glam at Thorod's-stead, in the valley
of Shadows, he will see that this is only the same
story over again almost in every particular,—except
that the first fight was with a man, and this is with
a woman.  The reason why this story was concocted
and put in here, was to account for the stone figure
which stands by the river, and which is called the
Troll-wife.  So far the story carries its character on
its face.

Now we will go on to the next part of the tale.
It did not satisfy people that Grettir should have
dived under Goda-foss and found nothing, so the
story was thus told:

When the goodwife, Steinvor, came from church,
she thought that her house had been rudely handled;
so she went to Grettir and asked him what had
occurred.  Then he told her all, and she prayed him
to go and make a search for her husband's bones,
under Goda-foss.

Grettir consented, but he asked that the priest
might be sent for.  His name was Stone.  Steinvor
sent for him, and Stone was curious to know whether
his suspicions about this stranger were true.  So he
asked him questions, but Grettir answered that if
the priest wanted to know who he was, he must find
out.  The priest laughed at the story of the Troll-wife,
and said he did not believe a word about the
struggle.

Then Grettir said, "Well, priest, I see that you
have no faith in my tale; now I propose that you
accompany me to Goda-foss, and we will search for
the Troll himself, and see if we can recover the bones
of Steinvor's husband."

The priest, Stone, agreed, and they went together
to the side of the waterfall, and they had a rope with
them.

Stone shook his head, and he said, "It would be
too risky for anyone to venture down there."

"I will go," said Grettir.  "But you mind the rope."

The priest drove a peg into the sward on the cliff,
and heaped stones over it, so as to make the end
firm, and then he seated himself by the heap.

Then Grettir made a loop in the end of the rope,
and put a stone through the loop, and threw the
stone down, and the end of the rope went to the
bottom of the gulf.

"How are you going down?" asked Stone.

"I shall dive," said Grettir.

Then he stripped, but girt on a short-sword, and
so leaped off the cliff into the foss.  The priest saw
only the soles of his feet as he went into the water,
and then saw no more.

Now, Grettir had gone in below the fall, and he
dived and went under the curtain of water and
came up near the rock.  The whirlpool below the
falls was so strong that he had a desperate struggle
with the water before he could reach the rock.

When he rose, he saw that the water fell over a
lip of rock, quite clear, and that in the face of the
rock was a cavern, and that smoke issued from this
cave, and mingling with the spray and foam passed
away, and was not discerned beyond.

Grettir climbed over the stones into the cave, and
there he saw a great fire flaming from amidst brands
of drift-wood; and there was the Stream-churl seated
there, a great Troll with a hideous face.  When he
saw Grettir he roared and jumped up, and caught
a glaive that was near him, and smote at the
newcomer.  Grettir hewed back at him with his
short-sword, and smote the handle of the glaive and broke
it.  Then the giant stretched back for a sword that
hung up to a peg against the side of the cave, but as
he was thus leaning back Grettir smote him across
the breast, and cut through to the ribs, and gashed
open his belly.  The blood poured forth out of the
cave and mingled with the stream.  When the priest
saw the bloody foam beneath the fall, he was so
frightened that he ran away, for he made sure that
Grettir was dead.

Grettir remained in the cave, standing across the
giant, till he had killed him.  Then he took up a
flaming brand and searched the cave through.  He
found nothing more than dead men's bones, and
these he put together into a bag, threw that over
his shoulder, and went again into the water.

He rose beyond the foss and looked up, but could
see nothing of the priest; so he caught the rope,
and by means of that he swarmed up to the top of
the cliff.

Then he sat down, and with a sharp knife he cut
runes on a staff.  And what he wrote was this:

   |  "Down into the gulf I went,
   |  Where the rocks are widely rent;
   |  Where the swirling waters fall
   |  O'er the black basaltic wall;
   |  Where, with voice of thunder, leap
   |  In the foaming darkling deep.
   |  There the stream with icy wave
   |  Washes the grim giant's cave."

He had cut as much as he could on one stick, so
now he took another, and on that he cut:

   |  "Dreadful dweller in the cave
   |  Underneath the falling wave,
   |  Fierce at me he brandished glaive;
   |  Full of rage at me he drove,
   |  Desperate we together strove.
   |  Lo!  I smote his halft in twain,
   |  Lo!  I smote and he was slain,
   |  Bleeding from each riven vein."
   |

Then Grettir carried the bag of bones and the
staves to the church, and laid them in the porch.

Next morning when the priest came to the church
he found the bag of bones and the staves.

Such is the story.

Now, it is clear that a good bit of it is simply
transferred from the story of Grettir going down
into the cairn of Karr the Old.

The real truth of the tale is no more than what
has been stated, that Grettir went under the
waterfall and found nothing.  It is, of course, possible
that he may have hoaxed the priest; but I think it
more probable that all this marvellous matter is
simply tacked on to one simple fact, and that it was
taken, partly from the story of Grettir in the barrow
of Karr, and partly from that of his struggle with Glam.

What the saga writer does admit is that the
versions of the story do not quite agree, and that—in
spite of this wonderful achievement, folks did not
know that Grettir was at Sandheaps that winter.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW GRETTIR WAS DRIVEN ABOUT`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXIV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW GRETTIR WAS DRIVEN ABOUT.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Thorir comes too Late—The Needle of Basalt—The
   Island of Drangey—The Terrors of the Dark—Brother
   holds to Brother*

.. vspace:: 2

After a while rumours reached Thorir of Garth
that either Grettir, or someone very like
Grettir,—a tall, powerful man with reddish hair,
and one who gave no account of whence he came,—was
lodging at Sandheaps, and Thorir made ready
to go there after him.  Fortunately Grettir, or
rather the housewife Steinvor, heard of his intention,
and so Grettir made off out of the valley of
the Quivering Flood before Thorir came there in
quest of him.

He escaped to Maddervales, in the Horg-river
Dale.  This is a noble valley of the Horg River,
with chains of snowy peaks on each side, of peculiar
shape, barred with precipices of basalt, on which lie
slopes of snow.

Some way up this valley are some very remarkable
spires of basaltic rock, one of which that is like
a needle is said to have been climbed by Grettir
whilst staying in this valley.  It is not so said in
the saga, but I was told so on the spot, and the tale
goes that when he climbed to the top he slipped his
belt round the needle, and there it hangs round it
still—but no one has been up since to find if it be
there where he left it.

He could not remain long there, for Gudmund
the Rich, who was farmer at Maddervales, was afraid
to house him for long.  Thorir of Garth would come
and burn his house if he harboured Grettir.  However,
he kept him for some little while, and then he
gave him advice what he should do.

It had come to such a pass with Grettir now that
no one dared to shelter him for long, and Thorir had
spies everywhere to inform him where Grettir was.

Gudmund the Rich said to Grettir: "You can
find no safety anywhere that men dwell; for if there
be not treachery, yet the news flies about that you
are there.  So I advise you to go where you shall
be alone."

"Where shall I go?" asked Grettir.  "I am hunted
like a dog."

"There is an island," answered Gudmund, "lying
in the Skagafirth, called Drangey.  It is a place
excellent for defence, as no one can reach it without
a ladder.  If you could get upon Drangey, no one
could come on you unawares.  You would see
anyone who came by boat to the island, and you could
pull up a rope-ladder, without which no one would
be able to ascend."

"I will try that," said Grettir; "but I have
become so fearsome in the dark that not even at the
risk of my life can I endure to be alone."

"Well," said Gudmund, "that is my counsel.
Trust none but yourself.  Treachery lies where least
expected."

Grettir thanked him for his advice, and went
away west to see his mother.  And he was most
joyfully welcomed by her and his young brother
Illugi at Biarg.  There he remained some nights—not
many; for Ramsfirth was only over a brow of
hill, and the tidings of his return home was sure in
a few days to reach the relatives of Oxmain, when
he would again be set on.

I said, after giving an account of Grettir's
adventure at Thorhall's-stead with Glam, that there must
have been something of fact in that story, and not
pure fiction; and now it has been seen how that
event coloured and affected his whole after life,
leaving his nerves so shaken, that he could not
drive off the impression then made on him, and
he was ready to run serious risks rather than be
subject to the terrors that came on him in the dark
when alone.

He told his mother and Illugi how it was with
him, and how that he had been advised to go to
Drangey, but that he could not; he dare not, in the
long winter night, be on that lonely islet by himself.

Then Illugi his brother said, "Grettir, I will be
with you."

"Brother holds to brother as hand clasps hand,"
answered Grettir, and so they parted.  All that
summer he wandered about in wild places, shifting
his quarters repeatedly, and living how he could.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`ON THE ISLE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   ON THE ISLE.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Illugi will go to Drangey—Asdis gives Consent—Asdis
   prophesies Woe—Within Sight of Drangey—Glaum
   becomes Grettir's Servant—Thorwald rows Grettir
   to Drangey—Thorbiorn Hook—The Bonders visit the
   Island—Grettir in Possession—An Inaccessible Spot*

.. vspace:: 2

When summer was now over, and the first snow
of winter began to fall, when the days were
rapidly shortening, and the sun had gone out of the
north to the south, where it began to move in a
rapidly narrowing arc, Grettir returned to Biarg
and remained there a while.  "But," says the saga,
"so great grew his fear in the dark that he durst
go nowhere as soon as dusk set in."  We can see
that the many years strain on his nerves had broken
them.  Hunted about as a wild beast, always forced
to be on his guard, never able to sleep without fear
of being murdered in his sleep, the trial had told on
him.  This was now the winter of 1028.  He was
aged but thirty-one; his strength of body was not
abated, only his nervous force.  He had been in
outlawry altogether fifteen years, three for the
slaying of Skeggi, then he had been outlawed by King
Olaf in 1016.  On his return to Iceland he had
been outlawed in 1017; this was the eleventh year
of his outlawry at the suit of Thorir of Garth, an
outlawry not only unjust, but according to general
opinion illegal, because he had been tried and
sentenced in his absence, and without any witnesses
having been called to establish his guilt—condemned
on hearsay evidence, and he never allowed to defend
himself.

Now Illugi, Grettir's sole surviving brother, was
aged fifteen, and was a very handsome, honest-looking
boy.

"Grettir," said he, "you know what I said.  I
will go with you to Drangey, if you will take me.
I know not that I will be of much help to you, but
this I know, that I will be ever true to you, and
will never run from you so long as you stand up.
Besides, I shall like to be with you, for here at home
we are ever in anxiety for news about you, always
fearing the worst; but if I am at your side, I shall
know how you fare."

"I would rather have you with me than anyone
else," answered Grettir.  "But I cannot take you
unless our mother consent."

Then said Asdis, "Now I can see that I have the
choice of evils.  I can ill spare Illugi; yet I know
your trouble, Grettir, and that something must be
done for you.  It grieves me, my sons, to see you
both leave me; yet I will not withhold my youngest
from you, Grettir.  It is right that brother should
help brother."

That rejoiced Illugi.  Then Asdis gave her sons
what things she thought they might want on the
island, and they made them ready to depart.

She led them outside the farm inclosure, and then
she took farewell of them, saying, "My two sons!
There you depart from me, and I dreamed last night
that you left me for ever, and would fall together.
What is fated none may fly from.  Never shall I see
you again, either of you.  Be it so, that one fate
overtake you both.  In my dream I saw your bones
whitening on Drangey.  Be careful and watchful.
My dreams have troubled me greatly.  Above all
beware of witchcraft.  None can cope with the craft
of the old."

When she had said this she wept sore.

Then said Grettir, "Weep not, mother, for if we
be set on with weapons it will be said of thee that
thou hadst men and not girls for thy children.  Live
on well, and be hale."

So they parted.  Grettir and Illugi went to their
relatives and visited them, never, however, staying
long in any place, and so on by Swine Lake, a long
sheet of water in a shallow basin, to the Blend River.
This river is of the colour of milk and water, because
it is so full of undissolved snow, and milk and water
is called Bland, *i.e.* Blend, in Icelandic.  Another
river enters it that is called the Black Stream,
because of the dark colour of the water.  Grettir
turned up the valley of the Black River and then
over a pass by a pretty lake lying in a mountain
lap, down into a broad marshy valley in which are
three or four rivers, and boiling springs pouring
forth clouds of steam on the hill-slopes.  The valley
is commanded by a beautiful mountain peak, called
the Measuring Peak, because the natives thereabouts
reckon distances from it.

Grettir and Illugi went down this valley till they
reached the sea, and now there opened before them
a glorious view of the fiord, extending out north
about forty miles, and from ten to fifteen miles
across, between mountains and precipitous cliffs.  A
little way back from the eastern shore stood up the
Unadals Jokull, crowned with perpetual snows and
with glaciers rolling down the sides, and on the
west, close to the sea, seeming to rise in a wall out
of it and running up into fantastic peaks, was the
range of Tindastoll, famous for its cornelians and
agates and other precious stones.  In the offing,
fifteen miles out, right in the midst of the fiord,
stood up the isle of Drangey with sheer cliffs, about
which the sea perpetually danced and foamed.

Grettir and Illugi skirted the shore on the west.
The wind was blowing cold, and snow was driving
before it, as they passed a farm.  The farmer stood
in his door, and saw a great man stride by with an
axe over his shoulder, his hood thrown back, and his
wild red hair blowing about in the gale.  "Verily,"
said the farmer, "that must be a strange fellow not
to cover his head with his hood in such weather as
this."  Near this little farm the brothers stumbled
upon a tall, thin man, dressed in rags and with a
very big head.  They asked each other's names, and
the fellow called himself Glaum.  He was out of
work, and he went along with the brothers chatting,
and telling them all the gossip of the neighbourhood.
Then Glaum asked if they were in want of
a servant, and Grettir gladly accepted him, and the
man became thenceforth his constant attendant.
But the fellow was a sad boaster, and most people
thought him both a fool and a coward.  He was
not fond of work, and he spent his time strolling
about the country picking up and retailing news.

Grettir and his brother and Glaum reached a
farm called Reykir as the day closed in, where was
a hot spring in the farm paddock.  The farmer's
name was Thorwald; and Grettir asked him to put
him across in a boat to Drangey.  Thorwald shook
his head and said, "I shall get into trouble with
those who have rights of pasturage on the island.
I had rather not."

Then Grettir offered him a bag of silver which his
mother had given him, and at the sight of this,
Thorwald raised his eyebrows and thought that he
might perhaps do what was asked.  The distance
was just five miles.

So on a moonshiny night Thorwald got three of
his churls and they rowed Grettir and the two who
went with him over.  On reaching his destination
Grettir was well pleased with the spot, for it was
covered with a profusion of grass, and the sides were
so precipitous that it seemed a sheer impossibility
for anyone to ascend it without the aid of the
rope-ladder that hung from strong staples at the summit.
In summer the place would swarm with sea-birds,
and at the time there were eighty sheep left on the
island for fattening.

A good many farmers had rights of pasturage on
the island.  Hialti of Hof was one, whose brother's
name was Thorbiorn Hook, of whom more hereafter.
Another was Haldor, who lived at Head-strand; he
had married the sister of these brothers.  Biorn, Eric,
and Tongue-stone were the names of three others.

Thorbiorn Hook was a hard-headed, ill-disposed
fellow.  His father had married a second time, and
there was no love lost between the stepmother and
Thorbiorn.  It is said that one day as The Hook was
sitting at draughts, she passed, and looking over his
shoulder laughed, because he had made a bad move.
Thorbiorn Hook thereupon said something abusive
and insulting; this so enraged her that she snatched
up a draught-man, and pressing it against his
eye-socket, drove the eyeball out.  He started to his
feet, and with the draught-board struck her over the
head such a blow that she took to her bed, and
died of the injury.  The Hook now went from bad
to worse, and leaving home settled at Woodwick
on the fiord, a small farm.  It will be understood
from this story that he was a violent and brutal
fellow, and that, indeed, the life in his father's house
had not been of an orderly description.

As many as twenty farmers claimed rights to
turn out their sheep on Drangey in summer.  The
way they managed it is the way still employed by
their successors.  They take the sheep out in boats,
and then put them over their shoulders, with the
feet tied under their chins, and so they climb the
rope-ladder, carrying the sheep up on their backs.
Though all these farmers claimed rights on Drangey,
The Hook and his brother had the largest share,
that is to say, the right to turn out more sheep
than the rest.

Now, about the time of the winter solstice, that
is just before Yule, the bonders made ready to visit
the island, and bring home their sheep for slaughtering
for the Christmas feasting.  They rowed out
in a large boat, and on nearing the island were
much surprised to see figures moving on top of the
cliffs.  How anyone had got there without their
knowledge puzzled them, for Thorwald had kept his
counsel, and told no one what he had done for
Grettir.  They pulled hard for the landing-place,
where hung the ladder, but Grettir drew it up
before they landed.

The bonders shouted to know who were on the
crags, and Grettir, looking over, told his name and
those of his companions.  The farmers then asked
how he had got there? who had put him across?

Grettir answered, "If you very much wish to
know, it was not one of you below now speaking to
us.  It was someone else, who had a good boat and
a pair of lusty arms."

"Let us fetch our sheep away," called the bonders,
"then you come to land with us.  We will not
make you pay for the sheep you have eaten, and we
will do you no harm."

"Well offered," answered Grettir; "but he who
takes keeps hold; and a bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush.  Believe me, I will not leave this
island till the time of my outlawry is expired,
unless I be carried from it dead."

The bonders were silenced, it seemed to them
that they had got an ugly customer on Drangey, to
get rid of whom would be no easy matter; so they
rowed home, very ill-satisfied with the result of
their expedition.

The news spread like wildfire, and was talked
about all through the neighbourhood.  Thorir of
Garth was the more embittered, because he could
see no way in which Grettir could be reached and
overmastered in this inaccessible spot.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF GRETTIR ON HERON-NESS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXVI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF GRETTIR ON HERON-NESS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Grettir goes to Heron-ness—At the Games—The Hook's
   Challenge—Amongst Strangers—The Oath of Safe-conduct—An
   old Formula—A Surprise for the Bonders—Regretting the
   Oath—The two Brothers—Grettir returns to Drangey*

.. vspace:: 2

Winter passed, and at the beginning of summer
the whole district met at an assize held
on the Herons'-ness, a headland in the Skaga-firth,
between the rivers that discharge into the fiord.
It is, in fact, the seaward point of a large island in
the delta of the river that divides about eight miles
higher up, inland.  The gathering was thronged, and
the litigations and merry-makings made the assize
last over many days.  Grettir guessed what was
going on by seeing a number of boats pass to the
head of the fiord.  He became restless, and at last
announced to his brother that he intended being
present at the assize, cost what it might.  Illugi
thought it was sheer madness, but Grettir was
resolute.  He begged his brother and Glaum to watch
the ladder and await his return.

Now, Grettir was on very good terms with the
farmer at Reykir, and with some others on that
side of the firth, and they were not unwilling to
help him.  Sometimes his mother sent things to
the brothers that she thought they would need, and
then there were not wanting men to take these over
to the island.  So Grettir got put across by his
friend Thorwald to the mainland, and he borrowed
of him a set of old clothes, and thus attired he went
along the coast boldly to Heron-ness.  He had on a
fur cap, which was drawn closely over his eyes, and
concealed his face, so that no one might recognize
him.  Now, in parts of Iceland, the flies are such
torments that men have to wear literally cloth
helmets, with only nose and eyes showing, the cloth
fitting tight to the head, and round over the ears
and neck, exactly like a helmet, or a German knitted
sledging cap.  When I was in Iceland, when the
flies were troublesome, I put my head into a
butterfly net, and buckled it round my neck tightly with
a leather strap.  Now, Grettir's cap was something
like those I have described, and no one was surprised
at his wearing it, as the whole of that valley
is one vast marsh, and is infested with flies that
blacken the air and madden men and beasts.

Grettir thus attired sauntered between the booths
erected on the headland, till he reached the spot
where games were going on.

Now, Hialti and Thorbiorn Hook were the chief
men in these sports.  Hook was specially noisy and
boisterous, and drove men together to the sports,
and whether men liked it or not, he insisted on
their attendance.  He would take this man and that
by the hands and drag him forth to the field, where
the wrestling and other games went on.

Now, first wrestled those who were weakest, and
then each man in turn, and great fun there was.
But when most men had tried their strength
except the very strongest, it was asked who would be
a match for Hialti and The Hook.  These two being
the strongest and the roughest of all, went round
inviting each man in turn to wrestle with them,
but all declined.

Then Thorbiorn Hook, looking round, spied a tall
fellow in the shabbiest and quaintest of suits, sitting
by himself, speaking to no one.  Thorbiorn walked
up to him, laid his hands on his shoulders and asked
him to wrestle.

The man sat still, and The Hook could not drag
him from his seat.

"Well!" exclaimed The Hook, "no one else has
kept his place before me to-day.  Who are you?"

"Guest," answered Grettir shortly.

"A wished-for guest thou wilt be, if thou
furnish some entertainment to the company," said
Thorbiorn Hook.

Grettir answered, "I am indisposed to make a
fool of myself before strangers.  How am I to know,
supposing that I give you a fall, that I shall not be
set upon by you or your kindred, and be unfairly treated?"

Then many exclaimed that there should be fair play.

"It is all very well your saying Fair-play now; but
will you say Fair-play, and stick to it, supposing I
get the better of this man.  You are all akin, or
friends, and I am a stranger to you all."

Again he was assured that no one would resent
what he did.

"But see," said Grettir, "I have not wrestled
for many years, and have lost all skill in the
matter."

Yet they pressed him the more.

Then he said, "I will wrestle with whom you
will, if you will swear to show me no violence so
long as I am among you as a guest."

This all agreed to, and an oath of safe conduct
was made, the form of which is so curious that it
must be given.

A man named Hafr recited the terms of the oath,
and the rest agreed to it.

"Here set I peace among all men towards this
man Guest, who sits before us, and in this oath I
bind all magistrates and well-to-do bonders, and all
men who bear swords, and all men whatsoever in
this district, present or absent, named or unnamed.
These are to show peace to, and give free passage
to the aforenamed stranger, that he may sport,
wrestle, make merry, abide with us and depart from
us, without stay, whether he go by land or flood.
He shall have peace where he is, in all places where
he may be till he reaches his house whence he set
out, so long and no longer.

"I set this treaty of peace between him and us,
our kinsmen male and female, our servants and
children.  May the breaker of this compact be cast
out of the favour of God and good men, out of his
heavenly inheritance and the society of just men
and angels.  May he be an outcast from land to its
farthest limits, far as men chase wolves, as Christians
frequent churches, as heathen men offer sacrifices,
as flame burns, earth produces herb, as baby calls its
mother, and mother rocks her child; far as fire is
kindled, ships glide, lightnings flicker, sun shines,
snow lies, Finns slide on snow-shoes, fir-trees grow,
falcons fly on a spring day with a breeze under their
wings; far as heaven bends, earth is peopled, winds
sweep the water into waves, churls till corn; he
shall be banished from churches and the company
of Christian men, from heathen folk, from house
and den, from every house—save hell!  Now let us
be agreed whether we be on mountain or shore, on
ship or skate, on ground or glacier, at sea or in
saddle, as friend with friend, as brother with
brother, as father with son, in this our compact.  Lay
we now hand to hand, and hold we true peace and
keep every word of this oath."

Now, this formula is very curious.  It must have
been brought by the Icelandic settlers with them
from Norway, for parts of it are inappropriate to
their land.  There are no Finns there, nor do
fir-trees grow there, nor is any corn tilled.  But all
that about Christians is of later origin.

After a little hesitation the oath was taken by all.

Then said Grettir, "You have done well, only
beware of breaking your oath.  I am ready to do my
part, without delay, to fulfil your wishes."

Thereupon he flung aside his hood and garments,
and the assembled bonders looked at each other,
and were disconcerted, for they saw that they had
in their midst Grettir Asmund's son.  They were
silent, and thought that they had taken the oath
somewhat unadvisedly, and they whispered the one
into another, to find if there were not some
loophole by which they might evade the obligation to
observe the oath.

"Come now," said Grettir, "let me know your
purpose, for I shall not long stand stripped.  It will
be worse for you than for me if you break your
oath, for it will go down in story to the end of time
that the men of Heron-ness swore and were perjured."

He received no answer.  The chiefs moved away;
some wanted to break the truce, and argued that
an oath taken to an outlaw was not legally binding;
others insisted that the oath must be observed.
Then Grettir sang:

   |  "Many trees-of-wealth (*men*) this morn,
   |  Failed the well-known well to know,
   |  Two ways turn the sea-flame-branches (*men*),
   |  When a trick on them is tried;
   |  Falter folk in oath fulfilling,
   |  Hafr's talking lips are dumb."
   |

Then Tongue-stone said, "You think so, do you,
Grettir?  Well, I will say this of you, you are a
man of dauntless courage.  Look how the chiefs are
deep in discussion how to deal with you."

Then Grettir sang:

   |  "Shield-lifters (*men*) rubbing of noses,
   |  Shield-tempest-senders (men) shake beards,
   |  Fierce-hearted serpent's-lair-scatterers (*men*),
   |  Lay their heads one 'gainst another,
   |  Now that they know, are regretting
   |  The peace they have sworn to to-day."
   |

In these staves a number of periphrases for men
or warriors are used—and the use of these
periphrases constitute the charm of these verses.

Then Hialti of Hof burst away from the rest, and
said, "No, never, never shall it be said of us men of
Heron-ness, that we have broken an oath because
we have found it inconvenient to keep it.  Grettir
shall be at full liberty to go to his place in peace,
and woe betide him who lays hand on him, to do
him an injury.  But an oath no longer binds us
should he venture ashore again."

All except Thorbiorn Hook, Hialti's brother, agreed
to this, and felt their minds and consciences relieved,
that he had spoken out as a man of honour.  And
thus was seen how of those two brothers, rude and
violent though both were, Hialti had some nobleness
in him that was lacking in the other.

The wrestling began by Grettir being matched
with Thorbiorn Hook, and after a very brief struggle
Grettir freed himself from his antagonist, leaped
over his back, caught him by the belt, lifted him off
his legs, and flung him over his back.  This is a
throw called "showing the white mare," among
Cornish wrestlers of the present day, and a very
dangerous throw it is, for it sometimes breaks the
back of the man thrown.  The Hook, however, picked
himself up, and the wrestling continued with unabated
vigour, and it was impossible to tell which side had
the mastery, for, though Grettir was matched against
both brothers, and after each bout with one brother
fell to with the other, he was never thrown down.
After all three were covered with blood and bruises
the match was closed, the judges deciding that the
two brothers conjointly were not stronger than
Grettir alone, though they were each of them as
powerful as two ordinary able-bodied men.

Grettir at once left the place of gathering, rejecting
all the entreaties of the farmers that he would leave
Drangey.  And, so, after all but The Hook had thanked
him for his wrestling and praised his activity and
strength, he departed.  He was put across from
Reykir to his island, and was received with open
arms by Illugi.

There now they abode peaceably, and Grettir told
his brother and his churl Glaum the story of what
had taken place at the assize, and thus the summer
wore away.

There was much talk through the island of Iceland
about this adventure, and all good men approved the
conduct of the men of the Skagafiord that they had
kept the oath they had so inconsiderately taken.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF HŒRING'S LEAP`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXVII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF HŒRING'S LEAP.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Piebald Ram—In want of Fire—Not born to be
   Drowned—Thorwald aids Grettir—A Stratagem—Hœring
   climbs the Cliff—Hœring's Leap*

.. vspace:: 2

The smaller farmers began seriously to feel their
want of the islet Drangey for pasture in summer,
and, as there seemed no chance of their getting rid
of Grettir, they sold their rights to Thorbiorn Hook,
who set himself in earnest to devise a plan by which
he might possess himself of the island.

When Grettir had been two winters on the island,
he had eaten all the sheep except one piebald ram,
with magnificent horns, which became so tame that
he ran after them wherever they went, and in the
evening came to the hut Grettir had erected and
butted at the door till let in.

The brothers liked this place of exile, as there was
no dearth of eggs and birds, besides which, some
drift-wood was thrown upon the strand, and served
as fuel.

Grettir and Illugi spent their days in clambering
among the rocks, and rifling nests, and the occupation
of the thrall was to collect drift timber and keep
up the fire in the hut.  He was expected to remain
awake and watch the fire whilst the others slept.
He got very tired of his life on the islet, became
idle, morose, and reserved.  One night,
notwithstanding Grettir's warnings to him to be more
careful, as they had no boat, he let the fire go out.
Grettir was very angry, and told Glaum that he
deserved a sound thrashing for his neglect.  The
thrall replied that he loathed the life he led; and
that it seemed it was not enough to Grettir that he
should keep him there as a prisoner, he must also
maltreat him.

Grettir consulted his brother what was best to be
done, and Illugi replied that the only thing that could
be done was to await the arrival of a boat from the
friendly farmer at Reykir.

"We shall have to wait long enough for that,"
said Grettir.  "The bonders have taken it ill that
he has favoured us, and he is now unwilling to be
seen visiting Drangey.  The only chance is for me
to swim ashore and secure a light."

"Do not attempt that!" exclaimed Illugi.  "That
is what you did in Norway, and that led to all your
misfortune."

"This case is different," answered Grettir.  "Then
I brought fire for ill-conditioned men, now it is for
ourselves.  Then I knew not who was on the other
side, but now I can get the fire for the asking from
Thorwald."

"But the distance is so great!" remonstrated Illugi.

"Do not fear for me," said Grettir; "I was not
born to be drowned."

From Drangey to Reykir is, as already said, about
five English miles.

Grettir prepared for swimming, by dressing in
loose thin drawers and a sealskin hood; he tied his
fingers together, that they might offer more resistance
to the water when he struck out.

The day was fine and warm.  Grettir started in
the evening, when the tide was in his favour, setting
in; and his brother anxiously watched him from the
rocks.  At sunset he reached the land, after having
floated and swum the whole distance.  Immediately
on coming ashore, he went to the warm spring and
bathed in it, before entering the house.  The hall
door was open, and Grettir stepped in.  A large fire
had been burning on the hearth, so that the room
was very warm; Grettir was so thoroughly exhausted
that he lay down beside the hot embers, and was
soon fast asleep.  In the morning he was found by
the farmer's daughter, who gave him a bowl of milk,
and brought her father to him.  Thorwald furnished
him with fire, and rowed him back to the island,
astonished beyond measure at his achievement, in
having swum such a distance.

Now, the farmers on the Skagafiord began to taunt
Thorbiorn Hook with his unprofitable purchase of
the island, and Hook was greatly irritated and
perplexed what to do.

During the summer, a ship arrived in the firth,
the captain of which was a young and active man
called Hœring.  He lodged with Thorbiorn Hook
during the autumn, and was continually urging his
host to row him out to Drangey, that he might try
to climb the precipitous sides of the island.  The
Hook required very little pressing; and one fine
afternoon he rowed his guest out to Drangey, and
put him stealthily ashore, without attracting the
notice of those on the height.  For in some places
the cliffs overhung, so that a boat passing beneath
could not be seen from above.  Now Hœring had
lain in the bottom of the boat, covered with a piece
of sailcloth, so that the brothers saw nothing of him
as the boat was approaching the islet.

They saw and recognized Thorbiorn Hook and his
churls, and at once drew up the ladder.  Now it was
whilst they were watching at the landing-place that
Thorbiorn put Hœring out on another point, where
the cliffs seemed possible to be climbed by a very
skilful man, and then came on to the usual landing
place, and there shouted to Grettir.  Grettir replied,
and then Thorbiorn began the usual arguments to
persuade the outlaw to leave the isle.  He promised
to give him shelter in his house the winter, if he
would do so.  All was in vain.  What he sought
was to divert Grettir's attention so as to allow time
and occasion for Hœring to climb the cliffs
unobserved and unresisted.

The discussion went on but led to nothing.  In the
meantime Hœring had managed most cleverly to get
up by a way never ascended by man before or after;
and when he came to the top and had his feet on the
turf, he saw where the brothers stood with their backs
turned towards him, and he thought that now an
opportunity had come for him to make himself a
great name.  Grettir suspected nothing, and
continued talking to Thorbiorn, who was getting, or
feigning to get, angry, and used big and violent
words.

Now, as luck would have it, Illugi chanced to
turn his head, and he saw a man approaching from
behind.

Then he cried out, "Brother!  Brother!  Here
comes a man at us with uplifted axe!"

"You go after him," said Grettir.  "I will watch
at the ladder."

So Illugi started to his feet and went to meet
Hœring, and when the young merchant saw that he
was discovered, he fled away across the islet, and
Illugi went after him.  And when Hœring came to
the edge he leaped down, hoping to fall into the sea;
but he had missed his reckoning, and he went upon
some skerries over which the waves tossed, and broke
every bone in his body, and so ended his life.  The
spot is called Hœring's Leap to this day.

Illugi came back, and Grettir asked him what had
been the end of the encounter.  Illugi told him.

"Now, Thorbiorn," shouted Grettir; "we have had
enough of profitless talk.  Go round to the other
side of the island and gather up the remains of your
friend."

The Hook pushed off from the strand and returned
home, ill pleased with the result of the expedition,
and Grettir remained unmolested on Drangey the
ensuing winter.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF THE ATTEMPT MADE BY GRETTIR's FRIENDS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXVIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF THE ATTEMPT MADE BY GRETTIR's FRIENDS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The New Law-man—The Outlawry almost at an End*

.. vspace:: 2

The ensuing summer, that is to say, the summer
of 1031, at the great annual assize at Thingvalla,
all Grettir's kin and friends brought up the
matter of outlawry, and contended that he ought to
have his sentence done away with.  They said that
no man could be an outlaw all his life, that was not
a condition contemplated by their laws.  They said
that he had been outlawed first in 1011 for the
slaying of Skeggi, and that he had been in outlawry
ever since, which made nineteen years.

The old law-man was dead, and now there was
another at the assize, whose name was Stein.  He laid
down that no man might by law be in outlawry more
than twenty years.  Now, when they came to reckon
since 1011 it was nineteen years.  It was true that
he had been outlawed thrice, once for Skeggi, then
by King Olaf, and lastly by the court for the burning
of the sons of Thorir of Garth, still—the fact
remained that for nineteen years he had been an
outlaw, and Stein laid down that by next assize, that is
to say in one year, his outlawry would have expired.

Thereat Grettir's kinsfolk were pleased, for they
thought that he would only have to spend one winter
more on Drangey, and afterwards his troubles
would be at an end; Thorir of Garth and his other
foes could no more pursue him, and the price set on
his head would fall away.

But on the other hand, Thorir of Garth, who had
not become more charitable and forgiving as he grew
old, became still more incensed and impatient to have
Grettir killed before this year would expire, also
Thorbiorn Hook cast about how he might be avenged
for the deprivation of his rights over Drangey.  The
men who had sold their claims came to Thorbiorn,
and told him he must do one of two things: get rid
of Grettir and assert his rights by turning out sheep
on the islet, or they would regard the sale as quashed,
by his non-usance of the pasture, and they would
reclaim their shares of the island as soon as Grettir's
outlawry was at an end, and he left the place.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OF THE OLD HAG`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXIX.


.. class:: center medium bold

   OF THE OLD HAG.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Hook's Foster-mother—The Hag's Request—The
   Witch in the Boat—The Hag's Dooming—An Unlucky
   Throw—Working Bane—The Magic Runes*

.. vspace:: 2

Now it was so, that Thorbiorn Hook had a
foster-mother, a woman advanced in age, and of a
very malicious disposition.  When the people of
Iceland accepted Christianity, she, in her heart,
remained a heathen, and would not be baptized and
have anything to do with the new religion.  She
had always been reckoned a witch, but with the
introduction of Christianity witchcraft had been
made illegal, and anyone who had recourse to
sorcery was severely dealt with.  The old woman had
not forgotten her incantations and strange
ceremonies, whereby she thought to be able to conjure
the spirits of evil, and send ill on such as offended her.

When Thorbiorn Hook found that he could contrive
in no way to get Grettir out of Drangey, and
when he saw that if his expulsion were delayed, and
Grettir left of his own accord, he would forfeit the
money he had paid for the rights of pasturage on the
island, he went to his foster-mother, and told her
his difficulty, and pretty plainly let her understand
that as he could get help nowhere else, he did not
mind having recourse to the black art.

"Ah!" cackled she, "I see how it is, when all else
fails, man's arms and man's wit, then you come to
the bed-ridden crone and seek her aid.  Well, I will
assist you to the best of my power, on one condition,
and that is, that you obey me without questioning."

The Hook agreed to what she said, and so all
rested till August without the matter being again
alluded to.

Then one beautiful day the hag said to Thorbiorn,
"Foster-son, the sea is calm and the sky bright, what
say you to our rowing over to Drangey and stirring
up the old strife with Grettir?  I will go with you
and hear what he says, then I shall be able to judge
what fate lies before him, and I can death-doom him
accordingly."

The Hook answered, "It is waste of labour going
out to Drangey.  I have been there several times
and never return better off than when I went."

"You promised to obey me without questioning,"
said the crone.  "Follow my advice and all will be
well for you and ill for Grettir."

"I will do as you bid me, foster-mother," said
Thorbiorn, "though I had sworn not to go back to
Drangey till I was sure I could work the bane of
Grettir."

"That man is not laid low hastily, and patience
is needed; but his time will come, and may be close
at hand.  What the end of this visit will be I
cannot say.  It is hid from me, but I know very well
that it will lead to his or to your destruction."

Thorbiorn ran out a long boat, and entered it
with twelve men.  The hag sat in the bows coiled
up amongst rugs and wadmal.  When they reached
the island, at once Grettir and Illugi ran to the
ladder, and Thorbiorn again asked if Grettir would
come to his house for the winter.

Grettir made the same reply as before, "Do what
you will, in this spot I await my fate."

Now Thorbiorn saw that this expedition also was
likely to be resultless, and he became very angry.
"I see," he said, "that I have to do with an
ill-conditioned churl, who does not know how to accept a
good offer when made.  I shall not come here again
with such an offer."

"That pleases me well," said Grettir, "for you and I
are not like to come to terms that will satisfy both."

At that moment the hag began to wriggle out of
her wraps in the bows.  Grettir had not perceived
her hitherto.  Now she screamed out, "These men
may be strong, but their strength is ebbing.  They
may have had luck, but luck has left.  See what a
difference there is between men.  Thorbiorn makes
good offers, and such they blindly, foolishly reject.
Those who are blinded and cast away chances do
not have chances come to them again.  And now
Grettir"—she raised her withered arms over her head—"I
doom you to all ill, I doom you to loss of health,
to loss of wisdom and of foresight.  I doom you to
decline and to death.  I doom your blood to fester,
and your brain to be clouded.  I doom your marrow
to curdle and chill.  Henceforth, so is my doom, all
good things will wane from you, and all evil things
will wax and overwhelm you.  So be it."  As she
spoke a shudder ran over Grettir's limbs, and he
asked who that imp was in the boat.  Illugi told
him he fancied it must be that old heathen woman,
the foster-mother of Thorbiorn Hook.

"Since the powers of evil are with our foes," said
Grettir, "how may we oppose them?  Never before
has anything so shaken me with presentiment of evil
as have the curses of this witch.  But she shall have
a reminder of her visit to Drangey."

Thereupon he snatched up a large stone and threw
it at the boat, and it fell on the bundle of rags, in
the midst of which lay the old hag.  As it struck
there rose a wild shriek from the witch, for the stone
had hit and broken her leg.

"Brother!" exclaimed Illugi, "you should not
have done this."

"Blame me not," answered Grettir gloomily.  "It
had been well had the stone fallen on her head.  But
I trow the working of her curse is begun, and what
I have done has been because my understanding and
wit are already clouded."

On the return of Thorbiorn to the mainland the
crone was put to bed, and The Hook was less pleased
than ever with his trip to the island.  His
foster-mother, however, consoled him.

"Do not be discouraged," she said.  "Now is
come the turning-point of Grettir's fortunes, and
his luck will leave him more and more as the light
dies away up to Yule.  But the light dies and comes
again.  With Grettir it will not be so, it will die,
and die, till it goes out in endless night."

"You are a confident woman, foster-mother," said
Thorbiorn.

When a month had elapsed, the old woman was
able to leave her bed, and to limp across the room.

One day she asked to be led down to the beach.
Thorbiorn gave her his arm, and she had her crutch,
and she hobbled down to where the water was lapping
on the shingle.  And there, just washed up on
the beach, lay a log of drift-timber, just large enough
for a man to carry upon his shoulder.  Then she
gave command that the log should be rolled over
and over that she might examine each side.  The
log on one side seemed to have been charred, and
she sent to the house for a plane, and had the burnt
wood smoothed away.

When that was done she dismissed every one save
her foster-son, and then with a long knife she cut
runes on the wood where it had been planed—that
is to say, words written in the peculiar characters
made of strokes which Odin was supposed to have
invented.  Then she cut herself on the arm, and
smeared the letters she had cut with her blood.
After that she rose and began to leap and dance,
screaming a wild spell round the log, making the
most strange and uncouth contortions, and waving
her crutch in the air, making with it mysterious
signs over the log.  Presently, when the incantation
was over, she ordered the log to be rolled back
into the sea.  The tide was now ebbing, and with
the tide the log went out to sea further and further
from land till Thorbiorn saw it no more.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW THE LOG CAME TO DRANGEY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XL.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW THE LOG CAME TO DRANGEY.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Food for the Winter—Cast up by the Sea—The Log
   comes back again—The Worst is come—An ugly
   Wound—The Hag's Revenge—Grettir sings his Great
   Deeds—Presage of Evil*

.. vspace:: 2

In the meantime Grettir, Illugi, and the churl
Glaum were on Drangey catching fish and fowl
for winter supplies.  The fish in Iceland are beaten
hard with stones and then dried in the wind, that
makes them like leather; but it preserves them for
a very long time, and they form the staple of food,
as the people have no corn, and consequently no
bread.  They put butter on these dry fish, and tear
them with their teeth.  What Grettir did with the fowl
he caught was to pickle them with salt water from
the sea, and when the frost and snow came on
then he would take them out of pickle and freeze
them.  Now, the whole of the sheep had been eaten
some time ago, except the old mottled ram, which
Grettir could not find in his heart to kill; and, as
may be supposed, he and his brother suffered from
want of change of food.  Especially deficient were
they in any green food; and we know, though he
did not, that the eating of green food is a very
essential element of health.  He had nothing for
consumption but salted birds and dried fish—no
milk, no bread, no vegetables.  Such a diet was
certain to disorder his health.

The day after that on which the hag had charmed
the piece of timber, the two brothers were walking
on the little strand to the west of the island looking
for drift-wood.

"Here is a fine beam!" exclaimed Illugi.  "Help
me to lift it on to my shoulder, and I will carry it
up the ladder."

Grettir spurned the log with his foot, saying, "I
do not like the looks of it, Little brother.  Runes are
cut on it, and what they portend I do not know.
There may be written there something that may
bring ill.  Who can tell but this log may have been
sent with ill wishes against us."  They set the log
adrift, and Grettir warned his brother not to bring
it to their fire.

In the evening they returned to their cabin, and
nothing was said about the log to Glaum.  Next
day they found the same beam washed up not far
from the foot of the ladder.  Grettir was dissatisfied,
and again he thrust it from the shore, saying that
he hoped they had seen the last of it, and that the
stream and tide would catch it and waft it elsewhere.
And now the equinoctial gales began to rage.  The
fine Martinmas summer was over.  The weather
changed to storm and rain; and so bad was it that
the three men remained indoors till their supply of
firewood was exhausted.

Then Grettir ordered the thrall to search the shore
for fuel.  Glaum started up with an angry
remonstrance that the weather was not such as a dog
should be turned out in, with unreason, not
considering that a fire was as necessary to him as
to his master.  He went to the ladder, crawled
down it, and found the same beam cast at its very
foot.

Glad not to have to go far in his search, Glaum
shouldered the log, crept up the ladder, bore it to
the hut, and throwing open the door, cast it down
in the midst.

Grettir jumped up, "Well done," said he, "you
have been quick in your quest."

"Now I have brought it, you must chop it up,"
said Glaum.  "I have done my part."

Grettir took his axe.  The fire was low and
wanted replenishing, and without paying much
attention to the log, he swung his axe and brought
it down on the log.  But the wood was wet and
greasy with sea-weed, and the axe slipped, glanced
off the beam, and cut into Grettir's leg below the knee,
on the shin, with such force that it stuck in the bone.

Grettir looked at the beam; the fire leaped up,
and by its light the runic inscription on it was
visible.  Grettir at once saw evil.  "The worst is
come upon us," he said sadly, as he cast the axe
away, and threw himself down by the fire.  "This
is the same log that I have twice rejected.  Glaum,
you have done us two ill turns, first when you
neglected the fire and let it go out, and now in that
you have brought this beam to us.  Beware how
you commit a third, for that I foresee will be your
bane as well as ours."

Illugi bound up his brother's wound with rag;
there was but a slight flow of blood, but it was an
ugly gash.  That night Grettir slept soundly.  For
three days and nights he was without pain, and the
wound seemed to be healing healthily, the skin to
be forming over it.

"My dear brother," said Illugi, "I do not think
that this cut will trouble you long."

"I hope not," answered Grettir.  "But none can
see where a road leads till they have gone through
to the end."

On the fourth evening they laid them down to
sleep as usual.  About midnight the lad, Illugi,
awoke hearing Grettir tossing in his bed as though
suffering.

"Why are you so uneasy?" asked the boy.

Grettir replied that he felt great pain in his leg,
and he thought, he said, that some change must
have taken place in the condition of the wound.

Illugi at once blew up the embers on the hearth
into a flame, and by its light examined his brother's
leg.  He found that the foot was swollen and
discoloured, and that the wound had reopened, and
looked far more angry than he had seen it yet.
Intense pain ensued, so that poor Grettir could not
remain quiet for a moment, but tossed from side to
side.  His cheeks were fevered, and his tongue
parched.  He could obtain no sleep at all.

Illugi never left him, he sat beside him holding
his hand, or bringing him water to slake his
unquenchable thirst.

"The worst approaches, and there is no avoiding
it," said Grettir.  "This sickness is sent by the old
witch in revenge for the stone I had cast at her."

"I misliked the casting of that stone," said Illugi.

"It was ill that it did not fall on her head," said
Grettir.  "But what is done may not be undone."  Then
he heaved himself up into a sitting posture
and sang, supporting himself against his brother's
shoulder, a lay, of which only fragments have come
down to us.  A good deal of the lay refers to incidents
in Grettir's life, of which no record remains in
the saga, and many staves have fallen away and
been lost.  So we give but a few verses:—

   |  "I fought with the sword in the bye-gone day,
   |    In the day when I was young;
   |  When the Rovers I slew in old Norway,
   |    The land with my action rung.

   |  "I entered the grave of Karr the Old,
   |    I rived his sword away;
   |  I strove with the Troll at Thorod's-stead,
   |    Before the break of day.

   |  "With Thorbiorn Oxmain in the marsh
   |    I fought, and his blood I shed;
   |  Against Thorir of Garth have I stood in arms,
   |    Who long would have me dead.

   |  "For nineteen years, I a hunted man,
   |    On mountain, on moor, and fen;
   |  For nineteen years had to shun and flee
   |    The face of my fellow men.

   |  "For nineteen years all bitter to bear
   |    Both hunger and cold and pain;
   |  And never to know when I laid me down,
   |    If I might awake again.

   |  "And now do I lie with a burning eye,
   |    As a wolf is fain to die;
   |  Whilst the skies are dripping and ocean roars,
   |    And the winds sob sadly by—"
   |

The song was probably composed before, as otherwise
it is not easy to account for its preservation.
His head was burning, his thoughts wandered, and
he ceased singing.  He seemed to be dozing off.  But
presently he started and shivered, and looked hastily
about him.

"Let us be cautious now," he said, "for Thorbiorn
Hook will make another attempt.  To me it matters
little—but to you, brother.  Glaum, watch the
ladder by day, and draw it up at night.  Be a faithful
servant, for now all depends on you.  Illugi will
not leave me, so we are in your hands."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE END OF THE OUTLAW`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XLI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE END OF THE OUTLAW.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *The Shadow of Death—Thorbiorn and his
   Foster-mother—The Hook sails for Drangey—Out in
   the Gale—The Unguarded Ladder—Glaum is Captured—The
   Brothers' last Evening—Defending the Hut—Grettir
   Wounded—Illugi Taken—The Notch in the Sword—Illugi
   vows Vengeance—Death of Illugi*

.. vspace:: 2

The weather became daily worse, and a fierce
north-east wind raged over the country, bearing
with it cold and sleet, and covering the fells
with the first snows of winter.  Grettir inquired
every night if the ladder had been drawn up, according
to order.  Glaum answered churlishly, "How
can you expect folk to live out in such a storm as
this?  Do you think they are so eager to kill you
that they will jeopardize their lives in trying to do
this?  It is easy to see that a little cut was all that
lacked to let your courage leak out."

Grettir answered, "Go! and do not argue with
us; guard the ladder as you have been bidden!"

So Illugi drove the churl from the hut every
morning, notwithstanding his angry remonstrances;
and Glaum was in the worst of humours.

The pain became more acute, and the whole leg
inflamed and swollen, signs of mortification
appeared, and wounds opened in different parts of the
limb, so that Grettir felt that the shadow of death
hung over him.  Illugi sat night and day with his
brother's head on his shoulder, bathing his forehead,
and doing his utmost to console the fleeting spirit.
A week had elapsed since the wound had been made.

Now, Thorbiorn Hook was at home, ill-pleased at
the failure of all his schemes for dispossessing Grettir
of the island.

One day his foster-mother came to him, and asked
whether he were ready now to pay his final visit to
the outlaw?

Thorbiorn replied that he had paid quite as many
visits to him as he liked, and that he should not go
to Drangey again till Grettir left it; and then, with
a sneer he asked his foster-mother whether she
wanted to have her second leg broken, and was not
satisfied with the fracture of one.

"I will not go to Drangey myself," answered the
old woman.  "That is unnecessary.  I have sent him
my salutation, and by this he has received it.  Speed
away now to Drangey, and find how he relishes my
message.  But I warn you, you must go now or you
will be too late."

Thorbiorn would not listen; he said that her advice
last time had led to no advantage when he followed
it, and that the weather was too bad to go out in.

"You need go but this once," said the crone.
"The storm is of my sending, and is sent to work
my ends."

Finally he allowed himself to be persuaded.  So
he got together men, and asked his neighbours to
help him; and a large vessel was manned.  That
is to say, the other farmers consented to lend him
men, but none of them would accompany him
themselves.  The Hook took twelve of his own men;
his brother, Hialti, lent him three; Erick of
Gooddale sent one man; Tongue-stone furnished him
with two; another, named Halldor, let him have
six.  Of all these, the only two whose name need
be mentioned are Karr and Vikarr.

Thorbiorn got a large sailing-boat for his purpose,
and started from Heron-ness.  None of the men
were in good spirits, as the weather was bad;
moreover, they had no liking for their leader.  By dusk
the boat was afloat, the sail spread, and they ran
out to sea.  As the wind was from the north-east,
they were under the lee of the high cliffs, and were
not exposed to the full violence of the storm.

Heavy scuds of rain and sleet swept the fiord;
the sky was overcast with whirling masses of vapour,
charged with snow, and beneath their shadow the
waters of the firth were black as ink.  For one
moment the clouds were parted by the storm, the
rowers looked up, and saw the heavens tinged with
the crimson rays of the northern light.  A flame ran
along the cordage, and finally settled on the
masthead of the vessel, swaying and dancing with the
motion of the boat.  It was that electric spark, which
is called in the Mediterranean S. Elmo's fire.

A line of white foam marked the base of Drangey;
and now and then a great wave from the mouth of
the fiord boomed against the crags, and shot in
spouts of foam high into the air.  Along the western
shore of the firth, which was exposed to the full
brunt of the gale, the mighty billows were beaten
into white yeasty heaps of water.  From the top
of Drangey one tiny spark shone from the window
of the hovel where lay the dying outlaw.

Now let us look again at Grettir.

He had been in less pain that day.  Illugi had
not left him, but remained faithful at his post.

The thrall, Glaum, had been sent out as usual to
collect fuel and to watch the ladder, and to draw it
up at nightfall.  But instead of doing as he was
bidden, the fellow laid himself down at the head of
the steps, under a shelter-hut of turf that had been
there erected, and went to sleep.

When Thorbiorn and his party reached the shore,
they found to their content that the ladder had not
been removed.

"Good luck attends on those who wait," said The
Hook "Now, my fellows! the journey will not
prove as bootless as you expected.  Up the ladder
with you! and let us all be cautious and bold!"

So they ascended, one after the other, The Hook
taking the lead.  On reaching the top he looked
into the shelter-hut, and there found Glaum, asleep
and snoring.  Thorbiorn struck him over the
shoulders, and asked him who he was.

Glaum turned on his side, rubbed his eyes, and
growled forth, "Can you not leave a poor wretch
alone?  Never was a man so ill-treated as am I.  I
may not even sleep out here in the cold."

The Hook then knew who this was.  "Fool!"
shouted he.  "Look up, and see who are come.  We
are your foes, and intend to kill every one of
you."

Glaum started now to his feet full awake, and
shrieked with dismay when he saw the black figures
crowding up from the ladder and surrounding him.

"Make no noise," said Thorbiorn Hook.  "I give
you the choice of two things; answer the questions
I put to you truthfully, or die at once."

The churl answered sullenly that he would speak,
and he had nothing to conceal.

"Then tell me where the brothers are?"

"In the hovel I left them, where there is a fire.
Not out in the cold.  Grettir is sick and nigh on
death, and Illugi is with him."

The Hook asked for particulars, and then Glaum
told him about the log, and how Grettir was
wounded.  Thereat the Hook burst out laughing,
and said, "Woe to the man that leans on a churl!
That is a true proverb.  Shamefully have you
betrayed your trust, Glaum."

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.

.. _`ILLUGI DEFENDS THE DYING GRETTIR`:

.. figure:: images/img-368.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: ILLUGI DEFENDS THE DYING GRETTIR.

   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.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW ASDIS RECEIVED THE NEWS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XLII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW ASDIS RECEIVED THE NEWS.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *A Charge of Witchcraft—A Heroic Mother—Thorbiorn's
   Sentence—Burial of the Brothers*

.. vspace:: 2

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 loathing hide!"
   |

After this The Hook returned home, and folk
wondered at Asdis, saying that only a heroic
mother could have had sons so heroic.  When Yule
was over The Hook rode east away to Garth, and
told Thorir what he had done, and claimed the
money set on Grettir's head.

But Thorir was crafty, and just as the Biarg folk
sought a charge against Thorbiorn for his deed, so
did Thorir, that he might escape having to pay the
silver.  He answered, "I do not deny that I offered
the money on Grettir's head, promising it to
whomsoever should slay Grettir, but I will pay nothing
to him who compassed his death by witchcraft;
and if what the men who went with you say be
true, you did not slay him with a sword, but hacked
off his head after he was dead."

This made Thorbiorn Hook very angry, and when
summer came he brought his suit against Thorir
for the money.  But simultaneously Grettir's kin
brought a charge against Thorbiorn for having
practised witchcraft.  Also they had a summons
against him for the slaying of Illugi.  Now, the case
was tried, and hotly discussed, and it ended this
way:—It was judged that Thorbiorn had struck off
the head of a man who was already dead, and that
he had brought about the death of that man by
witchcraft; thereupon it was judged that he should
receive nothing of the money, and that he should be
outlawed from Iceland.

So he went away and never returned.

Now, Grettir and Illugi were brought to land, and
their bones lie at Reykir, where was the friendly
farmer who had helped them when they were at
Drangey.  But Grettir's head was buried at Biarg.
There is now no church or churchyard there, but
there is a mound in the *tún* where his head is said
to lie.  I obtained leave to dig there, and I
examined the spot, but found only a great stone under
the turf, and this we had not the appliances to move.
And perhaps it was as well; for if Grettir's head be
there, it were better that there it should rest
undisturbed.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HOW DROMUND KEPT HIS WORD`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XLIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   HOW DROMUND KEPT HIS WORD.

.. vspace:: 2

..
   
   *Thorbiorn Hook in Norway—Dromund on Thorbiorn's
   Track—The Varangians—Grettir's Sword—Grettir is
   Avenged*

.. vspace:: 2

Now, after that Thorbiorn Hook had been outlawed,
he found that he had gotten to himself
no advantage, but great harm by what he had done
upon Drangey.  He was forced to leave Iceland;
and he saw, withal, that never again might he set
foot therein again with safety, for all the relatives
of the Biarg family would seek his life.  Accordingly
he made over his farm at Woodwick to his brother
Hialti, and also all his rights over the island of
Drangey, such as they were.  Then he collected
together what moveable goods he had, and went on
board ship and sailed for Norway.

On reaching Norway he bragged much of what
he had done in having slain Grettir, of whom tales
were told in Norway; and, as may well be understood,
he told the tale of the slaying of Grettir in
his own way, magnifying his heroism, and saying
nothing about such matters as lessened the greatness
of his deed.

During the early winter tidings reached Thorstein
Dromund at Tunsberg that his brother Grettir
was dead, and also that the man who slew him was
in the north of the country.  When Dromund heard
the tidings he was very sorrowful, and he called to
mind the words he had said to Grettir when they
showed each other what sort of arms they had.
Dromund considered that he was bound to avenge
his brother's death on his murderer.

Thorbiorn Hook also was aware that there was a
half-brother of Grettir in Norway, and when he
knew that he was wary, for he suspected that
Dromund would seek his life.  And, indeed, Thorstein
Dromund sent spies to watch Thorbiorn Hook; but
the latter was so careful of himself that Dromund
was not able to attempt anything against him all
that winter.  No sooner did the soft, warm, spring
breezes begin to blow, than The Hook got away out
of Norway by the earliest opportunity.  He had
heard much talk how that the Emperors of the East,
at Constantinople, kept a guard of Norsemen about
them, and paid them well, and how that this guard
was held in high esteem.  So Thorbiorn Hook
considered he could not do better than go to
Constantinople, and try his fortune there.  But before
he left Norway he talked of his intention, and this
was reported to Dromund at Tunsberg.  So Dromund
put his lands and affairs into the hands of his
kinsmen, and got ready for journeying in search of
Hook, whom he had never seen.

He sailed away after him, and wherever he came
he made inquiries after the ship in which Thorbiorn
Hook had been, and he was always just too late.
He never could catch the ship up.  And then finally
Thorbiorn left the vessel and journeyed overland,
and Thorstein lost his traces.

However, Dromund knew that Thorbiorn Hook
was going to Constantinople, so he travelled thither
also, and reached the imperial city.  Now there
were a great many Norsemen and Icelanders there
in the company called the Varangians, who acted as
a bodyguard to the Emperor, and among these men
were some twenty or more called Thorbiorn, and
which among them was the murderer of Grettir,
Thorstein Dromund did not know.  The Hook, as
may well be imagined, did not tell anyone what his
nickname was; not that he imagined he was pursued,
but because it was not a pretty and flattering name.
Thorstein also offered himself as a soldier in the
guard, and was enrolled.  He also merely gave his
name as Thorstein, and told no one of his nickname
of Dromund, lest the man he pursued should take
alarm and leave.

So time passed, and Thorstein Dromund could not
find out his man; and he lay awake in bed many
nights musing on what he had undertaken, on the
sad lot of Grettir, and on his ill-success in finding
the murderer of his half-brother.  Now, it fell out
that on a certain day the order came to the Varangian
guard that they were to be ready, as they were
about to be sent on an expedition of importance.

It was usual, before any such an expedition, that
all the men of the guard should burnish up their
weapons and armour, and show them, that they were in condition.

So was it on this occasion also.  They were
assembled in the guard-room, and each produced his
weapon.  Then Thorbiorn held forth his short-sword—the
very weapon that Grettir had taken from the
tomb of Karr the Old, the sword with which he
The Hook had hewed off Grettir's head.

Now, when Thorbiorn held forth the sword all the
other guardsmen praised it, and said it was an
excellent weapon; but it had one grievous blemish,
for that there was a notch in the edge.

"Oh!" laughed Thorbiorn, "that notch is no
blemish at all.  It is a memorial of one of my
greatest achievements."

"What was that?" asked one of the Varangians.

"With this sword," answered Thorbiorn, "I slew
the man who was esteemed the greatest and most
powerful champion of his time; a man who was in
outlawry for twenty years, who had in his time
fought and beaten off as many as thirty or forty
who attacked him.  But I was too much for him.
When I went against him, then he had to give way.
We fought for an hour without flagging, and finally
I smote him down.  Then I took from him his own
sword, and with it I smote off his neck; and thus
got the sword its notch."

"And his name?" asked Thorstein Dromund.

"His name was Grettir the Strong."

There was a pause; and in that pause the sword
was handed to Dromund for him to look at.

"Thus is Grettir avenged!" suddenly exclaimed
Dromund.  He struck across the table at Thorbiorn
with Grettir's own sword; and so great was the
stroke that it smote through his skull to the
jaw-teeth, and The Hook fell without a word, dead.

It was said, in after times, that Grettir was
wonderful in his life, and wonderful in his death—for
in life no man had been his equal in strength, and
had had a sadder span of life; and in death he was
wonderful—for of all Icelanders he was the only one
who was avenged far away from home by the shores
of the Bosphorus, in the City of the Emperors.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`EPILOGUE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   EPILOGUE.

.. vspace:: 2

..

   *Date of Grettir's Death—Mention of Grettir in other
   Sagas—Historical Basis of the Grettir Story*

.. vspace:: 2

In the Icelandic annals the death of Grettir is set
down as having occurred in 1033, but the dates
are not quite correct, and the real date should be
1031.

Grettir is mentioned in other Icelandic sagas.
He is spoken of and his pedigree given in the
Landnama Book, the Icelandic Domesday, the most
reliable book for history they have.  The persons
spoken of in the saga of Grettir are heard of in
several other quite independent sagas, and in no
case is there any serious anachronism.

Grettir, it will be recalled, was taken by the
farmers in the Ice-firth.  This incident is also related
in the saga of the Foster-brothers; so is another
incident about a contest concerning a dead whale I
have not related, as likely to break the continuity
of the history.  In the saga of Thord, the hero is
said to have blessed the Middle-firth in these words:
"Let the man who grows up in this vale never be
hung."  And this blessing was thought to have had
something to do with the saving of Grettir's neck
in the Ice-firth.  The story of Gisli has been told
whom Grettir whipped.  Now, in the Viga-styr saga,
the most ancient of all Icelandic sagas, we hear of
this same Gisli, and his character is painted in the
same colours as in the saga of Grettir, but no
mention is made of the whipping administered by
Grettir.  The murder of Atli, the brother of our
outlaw, and the consequent slaying of Thorbiorn
Oxmain is spoken of in the saga of Bard.  The
circumstance of Grettir having lived in a cave on the
farm in Hit-dale is spoken of in the saga of Biorn.
In the history of Grettir mention is made of the
strife which took place between Biorn and Thord,
but the full particulars of what is there alluded to
casually are given in the saga of Biorn of Hit-dale.
In our saga, Grettir is spoken of as meeting Bard
wounded after a hard fight, in which he had avenged
the death of his brother, but no particulars are given.
In the saga of the Heath-fights we recover the
whole story.  Thus one saga explains and supports
another.

It is therefore impossible to set down the story
of Grettir as fabulous.  It is historical; but the
history has been somewhat embellished, partly by
family vanity which led to the undue glorification of
their hero, and partly by superstition which
imagined the marvellous where all was really natural.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center

   THE END.

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center

   Transcriber's note:

.. vspace:: 1

..

   The source book's pages had variant headers.  These headers
   have been collected into the introductory paragraph
   at the start of each chapter.

.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::