The Thrall of Leif the Lucky Part 22

It turned out to be even more truthful than they imagined. They had little more than left the sh.o.r.e and ventured out upon the ice, when the gentle east wind developed into a gale, that presently wrapped them in the blinding folds of a snow-storm. The ice became invisible a step ahead of their feet. They had retained their staffs when they left their skees upon the bank; but even feeling their way step by step was by no means secure. It was not long before Alwin went through, up to his neck; and if he had been uncomfortable before, he was in wretched plight now, drenched to the skin with ice-water.

"If you also get in this condition, we shall both perish," he chattered, when he had managed to clamber out again by the fortunate accident of his staff's falling crosswise over the hole. "I will continue to go first; and do you h.o.a.rd your strength to save us both when I get too stiff to move." It proved a wise precaution; for in a few minutes he broke through again, and it took all his companion's exertions to pull him out. Before they reached the opposite sh.o.r.e, he had been in four times, and was so benumbed with cold that Sigurd was obliged to drag him up the bank and into the hut of Aran Bow-Bender.

One low room was all there was of it, and that was smoky and dirty, the air thick with the smells of stale cooking and musty fur garments. Dogs were lying about, and there was a goat-pen in the corner; but a fire roared in the centre, a ring of steaming hot drinks stood around it, and behind them sat a circle of jovial-hearted sportsmen, who seemed to ask no greater pleasure than to pull off a stranger's drenched garments, rub him to a tingle, and pour him full of hot spicy liquids.

To return that night was out of the question. Alwin was too exhausted even to think of it,--beyond a sleepy wonder as to whether a scolding or a flogging would be the penalty of his involuntary truancy. He even forgot the existence of the man he had come to see, though the round, red-faced sailor dozed in a corner directly opposite him.

Sigurd, however, was less muddled; and he had, besides, a strong objection to returning the next morning, to be laughed at for his weather-foolishness.

"If we do not want to be made fun of, it would be advisable for us to take someone back with us to distract people's attention," he reasoned, and laid plans accordingly. The next day, as they began buckling up their various outer garments preparatory to departure, he suddenly struck into the conversation with a reference to the festivities at Brattahlid.

In a moment the sailor-man's eyes opened, like two round windows, above his fat cheeks.

The Silver-Tongue spoke on concerning the products of the Brattahlid kitchen, the fat beeves that were slaughtered each week, the gammons and flitches that were taken from the larder, and the barrels of ale that were tapped.

As he settled his boots with a final stamp, and stretched out his hand toward the door, Grettir the sailor arose in his corner.

"Hold on, Jarl's son," he said thickly. "If it is not against your wish, I will go with you." He made a propitiatory gesture to the group around the fire. "You will not take it ill, s.h.i.+pmates, if I leave you now, with many thanks for a good entertainment. The truth is that it has always been in my mind to visit this renowned Eric, if ever I should be in this part of Greenland; and now that some one is going that way to guide me, I think it would be unadvisable to lose the chance."

"The matter shall be as you have fixed it, Grettir," Sigurd said politely, "if you are able to run on skees with us."

Grettir laughed in a jovial roar, as he helped himself to a pair of runners that rested on antlers against the wall. "You have a sly wit, Sigurd Jarlsson. You think, because I am round, I am wont to roll like a barrel. I will show you."

And it proved that, for all his bulk, he was as light on his feet as either of them. In those days, when every landlubber could handle a boat like a seaman, every sailor knew at least something about farming, and could ride a horse like a jockey. All the way back, he kept them going at a pace that took their breath.

In the excitement of welcoming so renowned a character to Brattahlid, reprimands and curiosity were alike forgotten. By the time they had him anch.o.r.ed behind an ale-horn on the bench in the hall, he held the household's undivided attention. Good-natured with feasting, and roused by the babel around him, he began yarn-spinning at the first hint.

"The western sh.o.r.e? No man living can tell you more of the wonders of that than I,--not Biorn Herjulfsson himself!" he declared. And forthwith he related the whole adventure, from Biorn's rash setting out into unknown seas, to his final arrival on the Greenland coast.

To hear of these strange half-mythical sh.o.r.es from one who had seen them with his own eyes, was more than interesting. The jarls' sons listened breathlessly while he reeled out his tale between swallows.

"And the fair winds ceased, and northern winds with fog blew continually, so that for many days we did not know even in what direction we were sailing. Then the sun came into sight, and we could distinguish the quarters of heaven. We hoisted sail, and sailed all day before we saw land, but when we came to it we knew no more what it was than this horn here. Biorn said he did not think it was Greenland, but he wished to go near it. It had no mountains but low hills, and was forest-clad. We kept the land on our left and sailed for two days before we came to other land. This time it was flat and covered with woods.

Biorn said that he did not think this was Greenland, for very large glaciers were said to be there. We wished to go ash.o.r.e, as we lacked both wood and water, and the fair wind had fallen. There were some cross words when Biorn would not, but gave orders to turn the prow seaward.

This time we sailed three days with a southwest wind, and more land came in view, which rose high with mountains and a glacier. Biorn said this had an inhospitable look, and he would not allow that we should land here either. But we sailed along the sh.o.r.e, and saw that it was an island. After this we had no more chances, for the fourth land we saw was Greenland."

A buzz of comment rose from all sides. "Is that all that you made of such a chance as that?"--"Certainly the G.o.ds waste their favors on such as Biorn Herjulfsson."--"Is he a coward, or what does he lack?" "He is as dull as a wooden sword."

Now whether or no all this coincided with the private opinion of Grettir the Fat, has nothing to do with the matter. Biorn Herjulfsson had been his chief. The sailor rose suddenly to his feet, with his hand on his knife and an angry look on his red face.

"Biorn Herjulfsson is no coward!" he shouted fiercely. "I will avenge it in blood on the head of him who says so."

Eric was not there to keep order; a dozen mouths opened to take up the challenge. But before any sound could come out of them, Leif had risen to his feet. "Are you such mannerless churls that I must remind you of what is due to a guest?" he said, sternly. "Learn to be quicker with your hospitality, and slower with your judgment of every act you cannot under-stand. Grettir, I invite you to sit here by me and tell me more concerning your chief's voyage."

When Grettir had gone proudly up to take his seat of honor, and the others had returned to their back-gammon and ale, Sigurd looked at Alwin with a comical grimace.

"Now I wonder if my cleverness in bringing this fellow here has happened to overshoot the mark! Leif is eager to get renown; suppose he takes it into his head to make this voyage himself?"

Alwin sank his voice to a whisper: "The idea came to me as soon as he called Grettir to him. But it was not your doing. Now the saying is proved true that 'things that are fated take place.' Do you remember the prophecy,--that when I stand on that ground I shall stand there by the side of Leif Ericsson?"

CHAPTER XX

ALWIN'S BANE

Much goes worse than is expected.

Ha'vama'l

The light of the short day had faded, but the wind had not gone down with the sun. Powdery snow choked the air in a blinding storm. One could not distinguish a house, though it were within a foot of his eyes.

"If I do not come to the gate before long," Alwin observed to the s.h.a.ggy little Norwegian pony along whose neck he was bending, "I shall believe that the fences have been snowed under."

He had been sent out to find another of Biorn's sailors who chanced to be visiting in the neighborhood, to invite him to come to Brattahlid and tell what else he might know concerning his chiefs voyage,--a subject in which Leif had become strangely interested. Alwin had accomplished his errand, and was returning half-frozen and with a ravenous appet.i.te that made him doubly impatient over their slow progress.

"If we do not get there before long," he repeated to the pony, with a dig into his flanks, "I shall get afraid that the drifts have covered the houses also, and that we are already riding over the roofs without knowing it."

But as he said it, a tall gate-post rose on either side of him; and the pony turned to the left and began groping his way across the courtyard to his stable.

The windows of the great hall glowed with light, and warmth and jovial voices and fragrant smells burst out upon the storm with every swing of the broad door. As soon as he had stabled his horse, Alwin hurried toward it eagerly, and, stamping and shaking off the snow, pushed his way in through the crowd of house-thralls, who were running to and from the pantry with bowls and trenchers and loads of food. He hoped that Leif was there, so that he should not have to go back across the snowy courtyard to the sleeping-loft to make his report. Stopping just inside the threshold, he looked about for him, blinking in the strong light and shaking back the wet fur of his collar.

It seemed as though every member of the house-hold except Leif were lounging along the benches, waiting for the evening meal. Eric leaned against one arm of his high-seat, talking jovially with Thorhall the steward, who had returned that morning from seal-hunting. Thorhild bent over the other arm, and gesticulated vigorously with her keys, as she gave her housekeeper some last directions regarding the food. Further along, Sigurd and Helga sat at draughts. Near at hand, a big fur ball, which was the outward and visible sign of Tyrker, was rolled up close to a chess-board. Only Leif's cus.h.i.+oned seat was empty.

With petulant force, Alwin jammed his bearskin cap down upon his head and turned to retrace his steps. Turning, his eye fell upon an object that Eric had just taken from the steward and held up to the light to examine. The flames caught at it eagerly, flas.h.i.+ng and sparkling, so that even at that distance Alwin had no difficulty in recognizing the bra.s.s-hilted knife. Eric burst into a mighty roar of laughter. His voice, never greatly subdued, penetrated to every corner of the room. "I could stake my head that it is Leif's! I myself gave it to him for a name-fastening. And you found it in Skroppa's den? Oh, this is worth a hearing! Here is mirth! In Skroppa's den,--Leif the Christian! Ho, Flein, Asmund, Adils, comrades,--listen to this! No jester ever invented such a jest."

He got on his feet and beckoned them with both arms, stamping with laughter. Catching sight of Alwin's white face at the door,--for it was ashen white,--he beckoned him also, with a fresh burst of malicious laughter.

"And you, you little priest-robed puppet, come nearer, so you shall not lose a word. Oh, it will be great fun for you! And for you, my Thorhild,--and the haughty-headed Helga! And gray old Tyrker too! Listen now, Graybeard, and learn, even with one foot in the grave. Saw you never such a game as this foster-son of yours has played with unchanging face!" He choked with his laughter, so that his face grew purple; and the household waited, leaning from the benches, nudging and whispering; the servants gaping over the dishes in their hands; Alwin standing by the door, motionless as the dead; Sigurd sitting, still as the dead, in his place.

Stamping and rocking himself back and forth, and banging on the arm of his seat, the Red One got his breath at last, and bellowed it out. "Leif the Christian in the den of Skroppa the Witch! His knife proves it; Thorhall found it among the rocks at her very door. Saw I never such slyness! Think of it, comrades; he is driven to ask help of Skroppa,--he who feigns to scowl at her very name!--he who would have us believe in a G.o.d that he does not trust in himself! Here is an unheard-of two-facedness! Never was such a fraud since Loki. Here is merriment for all!"

He continued to shout it over and over, roaring with mocking laughter; his men nudging each other, sn.i.g.g.e.ring and grinning and calling gibes across the fire. Leif's men sprang up, burning with rage and shame,--then stood speechless, daring neither to deny nor resent it.

Alwin made a quick step forward to where the firelight revealed him to all in the room, and cried out hoa.r.s.ely: "Here is falsehood! My hand, and no other, took Leif Ericsson's knife to the den of Skroppa the Witch."

Motion and sound stopped for a moment,--as though the icy blast, that came just then through the opening door, had frozen all the life in the room. Then a voice called out that the thrall was lying to cover his master; and Eric's laughter burst out anew, and the jeering redoubled.

But Alwin's voice rose high above it. "Fools! Is it worth while for me to give my life for a lie? Ask Sigurd Haraldsson, if you will not believe me. He knows that I went there on Yule Eve, to ask concerning my freedom. The knife slipped from my belt as I was climbing the rocks.

Leif knew of it no more than you. Ask Sigurd Haraldsson, if you will not believe me."

Sigurd rose and tried to speak, but his tongue had become like a withered leaf in his mouth, so that he could only bow his head.

Yet from him, that was enough. Such an uproar of delight broke from Leif's men as drowned all the jeering that had gone before, and made the rafters ring with exulting. Alwin knew that, whatever else he would have to bear, at least that lie was not upon him, and he drew a deep breath of relief. All the light did not die out of his face, even when Leif stepped out of the shadow of the door and stood before him.

She had not spoken falsely who had said that the fire of Eric burned in the veins of his son. In his white-hot anger, the guardsman's face was terrible. Death was in his stern-set mouth, and death blazed from his eyes. Rolf, Sigurd, Helga, even Valbrand, cried out for mercy; but Alwin read the look aright, and asked for nothing that was not there.

While their cries were still in the air, Leif's blade leaped from its scabbard, quivered in the light, and flashed down, biting through fur and hair and flesh and bone. Without a sound, Alwin fell forward heavily, and lay upon his face at his master's feet.