The Story of Rolf and the Viking's Bow

But Grani said over his shoulder, "Leave the bill with him. No use is it to us, for we have none that can wield it."

Then Ondott was wroth that Grani did not support him in that claim, and he said: "Now, Frodi, I call to mind that ere thou wentest away, thou didst assault me here in this smithy. Outlaw will I make thee therefor."

Frodi made a sudden step, and behold! there he was within reach of Ondott, holding the bill in such wise that he might have thrust Ondott through, albeit Frodi neither raised the weapon aloft nor brandished it. He said:

"Now for the love which has always been between us, be so kind as to speak me free of guilt in that matter, when I drew weapon on thee."

In a fright Ondott stretched forth his hand and spoke Frodi free of that guilt. So Frodi suddenly shifted the bill in his hand, and the point touched the ground; none who had not looked close would have supposed any threat had been made. Said Frodi: "See how kind Ondott is to me, in asking no atonement, being in no danger from me. Witness ye all that I am clear in that matter."

Grani smiled and rode away, and the men next; Ondott followed, mightily vexed that that simple one had so bested him.

Now the time came for men to ride to the Althing, and with all state Einar rode thither with his son. Then for the first time Grani saw the power of that land which he had despised, for chiefs met there who were greater in riches than Orkney thanes, having great followings, all richly dressed. But all were obedient to the law; and a wonderful thing that was, to see men of such power yielding in lawsuits to lesser men, and bringing no cases to weapons. And Grani learned that his father was of no consequence at all in that place, for men passed him by and gave him no honor. Yet for all that Grani's pride grew, and he said that men should some day recognize him there. And he rode home moodily behind his company.

Now as men rode again toward the west, Grani saw one man whom he had oft remarked at the Thing: Kolbein the son of Burning-Flosi, destined to be a leader among men. Grani wished friendship with him greatly. And Kolbein rode to Grani and said: "Keeps thy father his harvest feast this year as before, asking company thereto?"

"Yea," answered Grani. "Wilt thou come?"

"Gladly will I come," answered Kolbein, "and will bring friends with me, if so be we shall be welcome."

"Welcome will ye all be," said Grani, and rode home cheered.

Now when they were come to Cragness, Helga met them at the door and welcomed them in. They asked if aught had happened in their absence. Said she, "Nothing save that the carline Thurid was here yestreen, and I am the first that has heard her speak since she left here in the spring."

They asked what were her words.

"I was here alone in the hall," Helga said, "for all the women were making cheeses in the out-bower. And Thurid came in and shuffled about the place, looking at things. I bade her be seated, for I would bring her milk and oat-cake; but when I brought them she had the great bow in her hands, and looked at it but would not eat. So I set the food away again; and when I returned she had the bow and the quiver, and was near the door as if to take them away. She said nothing when I asked what she did with those; so I stood in her way, thinking I was stronger than she. With one hand she set me aside, and I might resist her no more than if she were a man. So she bore the bow and arrows from the house, and I thought they were gone; but on a sudden she was back again, and laid them on the bench. And she said in a deep voice not like her own:

"'Not with women do I strive.'

"Then with great steps she went out of the hall, and came not again."

Those three, Einar and Ondott and Grani, looked at each other with alarm. For if that bow, left in the ward of women, had thus been taken, men could know neither the day nor the hour when Rolf might come, and make the shot at the oak-tree before witnesses, when all would be over with the house of Einar. And ere aught was said Einar took the bow and bestowed it under a settle, where it was well hid. Then they praised their fortune that they had it still.

So all sat down to meat, and ate gladly, for they had journeyed days long from the Thing-field. Then night fell, and they spoke of many things; at last Einar asked his son: "What said to thee Kolbein son of Flosi, there ere our roads parted?"

"He asked me," answered Grani, "whether we hold the harvest feast as last year, and if he and his company would be welcome."

Says Einar, rubbing his hands: "Now the great folk come to alliance with us; and when a few chiefs have visited here, then thou mayest count thyself their equal in all things, even as thou art in wealth. Of course thou badst him come?"

"That I did," says Grani.

So Ondott praised him. "Men have marked thee, there at the Thing, and seek to ally themselves with thee."

But Helga, who had listened, burst into tears.

"What is it," asks Grani, "that makes thee weep?"

Helga dashed the tears from her eyes, and stood before those two, her father and her brother. "Much had I hoped," says she, "that wicked doings would cease in this house – for to mock the dead and the unfortunate is wicked. And if ye hold the feast as last year, and shoot at the boundary as then, laughing at Hiarandi's fortune, then ye tempt your own fate, for such deeds go not unpunished long."

"Now," asked Grani of his father, "hast thou so mocked that luckless man's fate?" Einar said he had, and it was seen that Grani thought that act far too strong.

"Yet see," said Ondott, "what friends that brings you now, for from the house of Flosi comes this offer of friendship."

Now as they spoke someone knocked at the door, and there was a housecarle of Snorri the Priest.

"My master," said he, "passes on his way home from the Althing, and sends me to ask: hold ye your harvest feast as last year, and will he and his company be welcome?"

"Oh, hold it not!" cried Helga.

Then Einar turned to Grani. "The mightiest man in Broadfirth dales offers now his friendship, and thy future is sure. Shall we not hold the feast?"

Grani turns to the housecarle of Snorri, and says: "Beg thy master to come!"

CHAPTER XXVII

ODD DOINGS AT CRAGNESS

Now time wears toward harvest, and in the dales all is quiet and busy, so that men when they meet have little gossip, save only of the doings of Thurid the crone. For she travelled far and wide in the night, and men saw her so distant from home that it was said she rode the wind; she was seen near the farm of Burning-Flosi, far to the east, and near the hall of Snorri the Priest, to the west. Ever when seen in the dark she strode furiously; by day she was always bent and slow. Old men spoke of her youth, when she was brisk and handy; it seemed as if her youth came again in these fits, foretelling her death.

Moreover by Asdis's work nothing now lagged, and the field was plowed, sowed, and harrowed, so that never had such a crop stood on those poor acres, and that by the work of two women. Some questioned whether indeed Rolf were not about; but there was no place in the hut for hiding a man, howbeit busybodies pried about there much. Now all that they found was what looked to be a grave, not far from the home-mead. So then the tale ran that Rolf was dead, and there buried; but when questioned Asdis would only laugh and say:

"Whether it is a grave, or the place where stood a little tree that I uprooted for fuel, that ye may guess."

But she was always so blithe that it was sure her son still lived.

Now on a day word came to Ondott from Thorstein Angle his cousin, that three men for sure dwelt on the island of Drangey; they were Grettir the Strong and Illugi his brother and some man unknown; but whether more men dwelt there no one could say, for so high were the cliffs that nothing could be seen from the mainland, and another three might for a twelvemonth lie there hidden. Many believed that others were there. So Ondott was satisfied that Rolf lay in hiding there afar off, and would not trouble the Cragness-dwellers for a long time to come.

Now came harvest rich and full, a bountiful year; men worked hard in the fields, the women too, and at night sleep was sound. There came a morning when it was found that Cragness had been entered at night and the whole hall ransacked, its passages, lofts, and store-rooms. Goods were taken from their places and laid aside; chests had been moved, opened, and emptied; and there was scarce a corner of the place but had been searched. Yet gold and silver, whether in money, rings, or vessels, were left behind, nor were they even gathered together for booty. So it was seen that no common thief had been there, and men wondered wherefore that had been done.

But Grani sent all his men to work in the field, and the women to righting the house; then he took the bow from under the settle where it was hid with its arrows, and he thrust it within the dais whereon were the seats of honor.

Now a night passed again, and no one heard the dogs bark; but in the morning it was seen that the thief had come again, and all the settles were out of their places, as if one had searched beneath them. No other places were searched, and nothing had been taken; all thought it strange that the dogs had not barked. Then another day passed, and men came home to sleep as tired as before; so then Grani took the bow and hid it up under the thatch, when all had gone to their beds.

In the morning nothing had happened save that the seats on the dais had all been moved, and the dais was found set up against the wall. Now the dais was heavy, and that work had been done with much strength. While men were marvelling the neatherd came in, and said he had been awake early in the byre, with a sick calf. Before sunrise he looked out of the window; the light was not strong, but he could see a little way. There he saw the crone Thurid standing, near the house; but when he ran out to speak with her, she had moved toward the cliffs. Whether she saw or heard him he could not say, but suddenly she began to go with long strides. A little mist hung above the crags; into that mist she went, seeming to walk upon the air; and while he stood astonished the mist wreathed around her, and she was lost from sight. He said to himself that was the end of the old woman; but in an hour, looking toward the upland, he saw her walking to the hut of Asdis, and that matter he could not explain.

Grani sent all men about their work again; he took the bow from the hall, with its quiver, and carried them to the great store-house, and hid them beneath sacks of grain. Then a night passed, and nothing happened; but on the second night noises were heard; men took lights and searched in the hall, finding nothing. Yet in the morning it was seen that someone had been at work under the thatch of the hall, by every rafter; and it was a bold deed to do that ransacking in the dark, for a fall might mean death. No one had seen Thurid nor any living soul; yet a tatter of cloth was found, like as it had been torn from the old woman's gray cloak.

Now Grani takes the bow from the store-house, and thinks much by himself, and at last hides it in a haystack, an old one; and there the bow lies deep within. That night he sets men to watch in the store-house, and fetches dogs from a tenants farm, and hopes now to catch the thief.

But one comes by night, and enters the store-house by the thatch, and takes the watchmen asleep, binding them with their heads in the bags that lay there. And all the store-house was searched and everything moved, and the thief away before day, but nothing taken. Those dogs which had been brought and tied by the door had had their leashes cut, and were off to their master; but the dogs of the place had given no sign. Those were the best watch-dogs in the dales, and had belonged to Hiarandi. No footprints were found about the place, and the watchmen said but one person had been there, marvellous silent and strong.

Grani took much thought where now to hide the bow, and bespoke the matter with Einar and Ondott; but they found no better place than where it lay, so there they let it bide. And Ondott went with men to the hut of Asdis, and called for the woman Thurid. Asdis said she slept within, and would not come out. So Ondott spoke to her from the doorway, as the crone lay within by the hearth; a bundle of rags she was.

"Is it thou that comest to our house," asked Ondott, "making this mischief there?"

"She speaks to no one save me," said Asdis, "and never when questioned."

"Tell her," said Ondott, "that if more searchings go on at Cragness, we will hale the old woman before the bishop and exorcise her for sorcery, since there must be witchcraft in these doings. So take heed to her, goodwife, and thyself as well."

"Thou art brave," said Asdis, "to threaten two women."

So Ondott rides away again, and that was the end of those happenings at Cragness. Some said the thief could not find what he sought; but some that Thurid was the thief, and Ondott had frighted her.

Time now fell for the harvest feast, and all preparations were made for receiving guests; great store of good things was made ready, and food and fodder for man and beast.

Comes at last Helga to Grani, and begs him not to hold the feast at all, for her mind misgives her because of it. He says that the guests must be on the way, and bids her work at the cooking, and forget those thoughts. She goes away sorrowful, and says no more of this to anyone.

Then on the morrow the guests are seen riding, both Snorri the Priest, that old man, and Kolbein Flosi's son, each with a large company.

CHAPTER XXVIII

OF THAT HARVEST FEAST

Now Einar's shepherd came in haste, and said the folk of the country-side were coming from all directions, and a great number would be at the feast. "Yet many," said he, "bear weapons, and I know not what that may mean."

So men looked, and it was seen that the farmers and bonders were coming over the hills, in small companies or large. Those of keen eyes said that most carried short-swords. Then Ondott looked at those two large parties that came riding, one from the east and one from the north, and thought them very numerous.

"Meseems," said he, "that Snorri and Kolbein bring more men than they need."

"Fearest thou, Ondott?" asked Grani. "This only do I fear, that we have not enough food ready. Only on going to church do men lay aside weapons; not strange were it if Snorri and Kolbein, coming from so far, bade their men bring longswords, spears, and shields. Yet they wear no mail, and bear only the one weapon – clear token of peace. Come, bid the women prepare more food; and do thou, father, let bring out more casks of ale, to welcome so many guests!"

Thus he shamed the household, and all went quickly to make ready more food and drink. Then the neighbors began to arrive, some on horses and some on foot, all in holiday guise save that each man bore a single weapon. Grani and Einar welcomed each as he came; and then the companies of those chiefs rode in, and there was great bustle to receive them. The horses were taken to the stalls, and the men led within the hall.

Gracious to Einar was Snorri the Priest, and he said fine words of Grani's growth and fair looks, and the goodly house. Kolbein was more silent, but looked about him much; and all those at Cragness were pleased with their great guests, save only Helga, who worked among her women and looked sad. When Grani saw that, he sought to cheer her, bidding her mark the pleasure of the visitors.

"Methinks," said Helga, "the old man smiles too much and the young man too little. Little good does my heart prophesy of this visit."

Grani was impatient with her and left her alone.

Now guests continued to come in, a great number, so many that they were not all able to come into the hall; those of lesser condition sat outside on the mead. And the time drew near noon before all were there. So at last Einar asked if more were to be seen coming, and his men looked abroad from the hilltop, and saw no one travelling. They saw only three living souls: two were Asdis and Thurid where they worked in the garden by the little hut across the valley, and one was a great man who lolled on a nearer hillside and seemed to look out upon Broadfirth. Something glittered in the grass by his side, but no one knew who or what it might be. So Einar let call all forth from the house, and he stood on a stool, and spake to them.

First he bade them welcome, and then he spoke of that custom which the last year had seen begun: shooting at the boundary in memory of his ownership of those lands and that hall. Some, he knew, had been displeased thereat, yet he trusted that now they saw his reasons for it. "For in the sight of all," quoth Einar, "I will have it known that my title is just, and will prove that all which made me master here was done within the law."

Very reasonable was that speech: Snorri smiled and nodded graciously, and Einar's folk applauded, but the others not so much.

"Now," Einar said, "men claim that Grettir the Strong can make this shot and put me from my lands, but since the law allows no outlaw to meddle in suits, he may not make the trial. Yet I invite all other men hither to prove me guiltless; therefore come ye with me to the brookside, and let all try who will. Few do I think will assay, but all are free to it. In token of peace leave your arms here, and let us go down to the boundary."

When they heard that, Einar's men laid aside what weapons they had; but those strangers made as if they heard not, yet all together began walking to the meadow by the brook. And Einar, when he saw they took no heed to his request, was of two minds: whether to say no more, or to ask them again to lay aside their swords. But that seemed a slight to his guests; so he spoke not of it again, and all together they went down the hillside, leaving at the hall only the women, still cooking for so many people. Einar had given orders that no ribald mocking should be made in shooting, such as the baser of his men had done before, for all should be decorous. So bows were brought, the best there were; his bowmen made ready, and one by one they shot before the guests. Snorri sat on a dais which Einar had let make, and Kolbein and Einar sat on either hand; but Grani stood. He was very anxious to see how near the arrows would fall to the oak; but the nearest fell roods away, and he said to himself, "Now my father is completely justified, for not even Grettir could shoot so much farther than these men."

So he begged the visitors to shoot, and of Snorri's men and Kolbein's some few made the trial, but shot no better than those who assayed afore. Grani was much pleased.

Then Einar stood up with smiles, and said he, "Let us now go to the feast, for it is ready at the hall."

"Here cometh one," said Snorri, "who may wish to try; wait we here for yet a little while."

Men looked, and there was a great man coming down the hill, and they knew him for the huge fellow who had been lolling across the valley. On his shoulder he bore a bill with a shaft big as a beam. Coming so, down the hillside above them, he looked so large that Einar was uneasy, wondering what champion he should be; the sun was behind him, and he seemed like one who might do all manner of feats of strength, even to making the long shot with the bow. Einar felt fear.

But when the large man reached the first of the people, and they could see his face, then laughter began among them, and one cried aloud, "'Tis only Frodi the Smith!"

So Frodi came before them, and Einar was wroth because he had feared such an one, who was all softness. Said Einar: "What dost thou here with that great weapon at our feast, where no man comes in war? Seekest thou to take up the feud for this land?" And he gave sign that his men should be near, ready to seize Frodi if only cause were given.

But Frodi laid the bill at the feet of Einar, and said: "I bring thee the bill which is thine own, since it came ashore on thy beaches. As for that feud, it is not mine, but it belongs to the nearest of kin. Who knows where he is? Let me stay here a space, I beg, and watch the shooting."

"The shooting is past," said Einar, "but stay if it pleases thee. As for that bill, keep it for thine own, if it is at all dear to thee." Then he turned to Snorri, and said, "Shall we not go to the feast?"

"But tell us of this great bill," said Snorri. "And were there not perchance other heathen weapons which are thine, coming ashore in that great storm?"

So Grani told of the bill, how it had belonged to that dead viking; and he said there had been a bow with it, which was useless because no one could string it.

"Much would I like to see that bow," says Snorri.

Grani knows not what to answer and looks at Einar, and Einar looks back at Grani; but at last Einar says: "Old and useless is the bow, and it is in some out-of-the-way place. Come now to the feast, for it is all ready."

"It is not yet noon," answered Snorri, "and before noon I am never ready to feast. But here comes another one down the hill, who may give us sport until we sit down."

So men looked again up the hillside, and there was another figure coming, seen against the sun. (Now in Iceland, even in summer noon, the sun never stands overhead.) Fast the figure strode, all muffled in a cloak which flapped in the wind; and so wild and large did the newcomer seem that again Einar was afraid at the strange sight. But when it came near the figure dwindled, and the people laughed again, crying to make way for Thurid. With slow and halting step the crone came through the lane of men to Einar.

"Wishes the strange woman anything here?" asked Snorri.

"Give her money," said Einar to Ondott, "and bid her begone."

But she turned her back on Ondott with his purse, and went nearer Einar; and then she saw the bill which Frodi had left lying at Einar's feet. A strong shudder seized her, and there she stood shuddering, gazing beneath her hood at that great weapon.

"What is wrong with the woman?" asked Snorri as if impatient. "Bid her to speak."

"She speaks never," answered Einar.

But it seemed as if she were talking to herself, for first she began to mumble hoarsely, and then a little louder, and then at last she began to drone a song, in a cracked voice which, to those who had known her, seemed not her own. She sang thus:

"Here is come from foreign shore,A heathen weapon and one more.First the bill which can be swungBy the peaceful smith alone;Next the bow which can be strungNor by him nor anyone.Yet I say in one of those,Laid in spells by Christ his foes,Danger lies to Einar's house."

When she had sung thus, she drew her hood still closer over her head and crouched down there by the dais.

Mark now all that which next was said and done, as if those visitors knew the fearsome nature of Einar, and played with it.

First Kolbein drew his feet away from the blade of the bill which lay before them; and he looked uneasy, saying to Einar: "Of human force I have no fear, but evil and witchcraft like I not."

But Snorri leaned forward and looked in the face of Frodi. "Tell us," says Snorri the Priest, "for what reason thou hast brought the bill here."

Answered Frodi: "I live alone in my smithy, and the bill stands always in the corner. Now sometimes it gives out a strong humming, there as I work, or as I sit by myself of nights; and at such times I think evil thoughts of vengeance, longing to do violence with the bill, until sometimes I fear I will snatch the weapon and rush forth and slay. And methinks the thing must be like the terrible bill of Gunnar of Lithend, which before every one of his slayings gave forth a singing sound. Yet Gunnar got his bill by the mere death of a man; but I won this in fight with a ghost, and so I fear more dreadful things will happen from mine than ever came from his. Lest blood-guilt come on my soul I brought the bill hither, to restore it to its rightful owner."

"But he gave it thee again," says Snorri.

"So," answered Frodi, "I see no way at all to avoid that blood-guiltiness."

"Thou canst cast the bill in the sea," says Snorri.

On a sudden Frodi started back from the bill, and clutched at the clothes on his breast, and cried: "Heard ye how it hummed even then?"

Said Grani, "I heard naught."