Grettir the Outlaw

CHAPTER XVIII

THE ORDEAL BY FIRE

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

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.

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."

CHAPTER XIX

THE WINTER IN NORWAY

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

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.

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."