Chapter XXIV The Foster-brothers
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
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.3 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.
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.4
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.
Notes
3 A troll is a mountain demon or giant.
4 There is an entire saga relating to the history of these brothers, called the Foster-Brothers’ Saga.