Chapter XX Of what Befell at Biarg
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
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.