Chapter XXIII At Learwood
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
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
The Story of Bottle-Back
“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.1
Cold—cold, icy back behind,
This is what alone I find,
Hard the lot that fate doth yield
To the bearer of the shield.”
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.
The Story of the Stranded Whale
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.2
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.”
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.”
Notes
1 i.e. a ship.
2 It is still so called, Trèkyllis-víc.