The Saga of Colm the Slave (13 page)

“Why do you think this bad luck is
caused by night-magic?” asked Thorolf.

“Well, what else could it be?” said
Ketil and others murmured assent.

“A hard winter, perhaps, and a late
spring. A careless lad, a woman struck by grief.”

“And the lights? The two-headed
calf?”

Thorolf shrugged. “These are things we
have seen before.”

“Perhaps we were cursed then, too,” said
Ketil. People nodded. “Perhaps we should have done something about
it then.”

“Perhaps we should quit spreading this
kind of talk and tend to our farms,” said Thorolf. “I have often
noticed that hard work leads to luck and good fortune.”

Ketil said, “Perhaps you should be more
attentive to our needs.” He meant to suggest that he and the others
might leave Thorolf’s godord and follow some other godi. The other
men nodded. Their faces were hard as they looked at Thorolf but he
looked closely at each man and saw the lack of resolve there.

“There is no one harming you but
yourselves,” said Thorolf. “If it were otherwise, I would certainly
be defending you.”

So Ketil and the others left Thorolf,
but they were unhappy and continued to grumble amongst themselves.
Thorolf knew that he had to do something to quiet the gossip.

Thorolf called on Bjorn and Colm. “You
are level-headed men. Let’s ride out to this couple’s place and see
what’s going on.”

They rode east toward Helgafeld for a
ways. South, the land sloped gently upward into meadows that became
divided where streams formed and flowed down to the river on the
other side. North the land rose to the desolate lavafields. After
they had been riding a while Colm said, “Haven’t we been here
before?”

They looked around and thought they
might be riding in circles. “How can that be?” said Thorolf. “We
kept between the ridges always.”

So they marked the place where they were
and rode east again. By and by they came upon the marker they had
left. Bjorn began to be fearful. It was a bright sunlit day and
warm, but he shivered. “Perhaps we should go back. It will be dark
soon.”

It worried Colm to see how shaken Bjorn
had become. He thought that they needed to do something now to put
an end to witch talk before people became too frightened to move.
He said, “I will ride up the hillside there ahead of us. You watch
and see that I do not go wrong. Then, when I am high up the slope I
will stop and watch you while you travel east and see what
happens.” Thorolf give his vigorous assent and Bjorn shut up and
went along.

So Bjorn and Thorolf travelled east a
long way without difficulty. Then they stopped and Colm rode along
the crest of the hill south of them and watched as they rode. They
travelled this way without any more problems and soon reached
Helgafeld.

Ogmund and Agdis had built their house
into the side of the hill. That was unusual and dangerous, too,
since a slide might bury the house or falling rocks crash through
the roof that stuck out from the hillside. The farm seemed
deserted. Long grass grew in the yard and the homefield was choked
with weeds and dead grass. No dogs barked at the riders nor did
anyone come outside to greet them. The place seemed lifeless.
Thorolf dismounted and called out. He called twice before a voice
came from inside the house. “Who is it?”

“It’s Thorolf the godi.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to speak with you.”

After a few silent minutes, Ogmund came
out into the yard. His eyes were unfriendly. Agdis followed him.
The two old people looked much alike; they even had the same amount
of wispy beard on their chins. If not for their clothing, you could
not say who was Ogmund and who was Agdis.

“I’ll be frank,” said Thorolf. “There
are some rumors going around about you and I want to hear what you
have to say about them.”

“We know about that,” said Ogmund. “Some
fools say we practice night-magic and do harm to others but we do
nothing except keep to ourselves.”

“Perhaps that is the problem,” said
Thorolf. “Why don’t you visit up at my farm so that people can see
that you are ordinary folk?”

Colm thought that a poor notion since
there was nothing ordinary about this couple’s appearance. He had
often spoken to ugly or disfigured people and he noticed that,
after a time, he became used to their faces, no matter how terrible
they seemed at first. But he did not become accustomed to these two
– in fact their appearance became more frightful the longer he
watched them and Ogmund’s voice was frightening, too, a low droning
moan that sometimes broke into a high screech.

“I don’t care what people think,” said
Ogmund, “And I don’t want to go visiting.”

“We are all neighbors,” said Thorolf,
“And we should get to know one another.”

“I don’t care to know the fools
gossiping about me.”

“Perhaps, if you met them, the gossip
would end. Anyway, some day you might need their help.”

“I will never ask for their aid.”

“The world can be a harsh place for
those who are alone.”

“The world suits me well enough,” said
Ogmund. And that was that. No words of Thorolf could move him.
After a while Thorolf gave up and they rode away.

“There are fools and then there are
great fools,” muttered Thorolf.

Bjorn shuddered. “Did you feel it?”

“What?”

“The wind was from the west, now it is
at our backs.”

“So the wind has shifted, so what?”

“No. I think it is we who have shifted.”
Bjorn shuddered again.

Thorolf made a face and galloped on. The
wind pushed at their backs all the way. Soon they were in familiar
country not far from the river. Now the wind came from the west
again. Bjorn was white and shaking. Thorolf said, “These are
unpleasant folk but we have nothing to fear from them.” Colm nodded
but Bjorn wouldn’t answer him.

People kept talking about the couple and
Bjorn added to their talk. Now people began saying that they were
weather-witches and blamed them when it rained too much or too
little.

Gwyneth asked Colm, “Are these people
hurting us?”

“No. They are ugly and unfriendly but I
think they are just people. They have grown old away from others
and never developed cordial ways.”

Gwyneth nodded. “Perhaps they should be
offered cordiality then, so that they may return it.”

“Thorolf tried.”

“Perhaps a woman should speak to Agdis.”
Gwyneth set her mouth and Colm could see that she was determined to
do something. He said nothing but he felt afraid for her all at
once.

Gwyneth went to see the widow Ingveld
who was a kind and thoughtful person. Together they put together a
little basket of berries and cheese, a small gift that would not
shame someone too poor to reciprocate. They gathered wildflowers to
decorate the basket and set off east in a wagon.

Late in the day, the two women returned
to the Trollfarm. Colm could see that they were very troubled. “Did
you find the place all right?”

“Yes,” said Gwyneth, “We found it.” She
said that Agdis had received them with harsh words and, when they
offered her the basket, she slapped it from their hands. The
berries flew from the basket and Agdis stamped on them, smashing
them into jam. They picked up the basket and returned.

Ingveld asked to spend the night. She
was afraid to be alone at her farm. Gwyneth made her up a place and
they sat around the fire, talking softly of pleasant things. The
flowers in the basket had withered and turned brown but no one
spoke of it, since that sometimes happens with wildflowers.

Some days later, a yellow cloud blew
along the river valley. It drifted uphill behind Ketil Treefoot’s
farm. Soon after, Ketil’s sheep began dying.

Colm went to Ketil’s place to see what
was going on. Other men, including Bjorn and Thorolf, were already
gathered there. A few dead sheep lay around; some had blood on
their muzzles. The grass seemed to glitter and Colm pulled some of
it up. Tiny needle-sharp crystals clung to the grass. Ketil led
them over to a nearby pool where some small streams emptied. The
water was a strange yellowish color and dead fish floated belly up
in the pool.

“It is time we did something about
this!” said Ketil. Bjorn and some others agreed and they began
talking among themselves, working themselves up.

“You know what this is,” said Thorolf.
“The yellow gas rises from volcanoes and condenses on the grass.
Animals are poisoned by it.”

“And where did the gas come from?”
yelled Ketil.

“From a volcano...” But Thorolf could
not make himself heard over the shouting.

“There is no volcano doing this! It is
sorcery!”

Thorolf motioned to Colm. “Ride to
Helgafeld – if you can – and warn Ogmund and Agdis that there is
trouble coming.”

Colm rode along the river and, when he
got to a place opposite the lavafields, spotted a yellow mist
rising out over the rocks. He rode toward it and saw several
fissures, long gaping slashes in the earth. Lava had poured out of
the rifts and they still glowed red in places. Yellow smoke roiled
up the gaps in the earth. All around, the bare rock was littered
with dead birds. Colm did not ride any closer but continued on
east.

He reached Helgafeld without any problem
and rode up to the house.

“Go away!” someone shouted. Colm could
not tell if it was the man or the woman.

“I have to tell you…”

“Go away!” They both shouted at once but
their voices broke at different times and it sounded to Colm like a
cacophony of birds. He was going to call out again when Agdis
backed out of the doorway. She walked backwards a few paces, then
bent over and threw her dress over her head. She looked at Colm
from between her legs. Her eyes stared wide and her lips were
turned up in a huge toothless grin that, upside down, was an awful
frown. Agdis came toward him quickly and Colm could not say if she
was walking backwards or had somehow turned her feet on her ankles
or her legs on her hips and was striding forward. The earth seemed
to spin about him and he felt himself hang upside down. His horse
whinnied and Colm pulled at the bridle but his horse went in a
circle and he still faced Agdis who was almost on him. He bolted
forward, past her, and away.

Colm stopped fifty yards from the house
and looked back. Agdis stood watching him. He saw her, a shrunken
old woman, and was ashamed of his fear. “People are coming!” he
shouted. “You should hide!” But Agdis went back inside.

Colm rode back along the way and waited.
It was almost dusk when he saw the mounted men approaching. Thorolf
rode up to him. “Are they inside?”

“Yes. They wouldn’t listen.”

Thorolf nodded. “We got lost again
coming down here but this time I saw what happened. There’s a place
that gets you turned around.”

Colm told Thorolf about Agdis. “It
seemed to me that everything ran backwards and that she caused
it.”

Thorolf said, “Well, I can’t say I’ve
seen many people standing on their heads lately.”

“Even so, I think that is what she meant
to do.”

“Do you believe she has that power?”

“No,” said Colm. “But perhaps she
believes that she does.”

Thorolf nodded. “Well, perhaps she can
make others believe in her power, too, but she is foolish to
try.”

Colm said, “Did you see the yellow mist
above the fissures?”

Thorolf nodded. “Oh yes. But these say
that it isn’t natural, that Ogmund and Agdis must have done it
somehow. It doesn’t matter that they have seen such things before.”
He sighed. “Nothing now I can do. Sometimes a tooth must be pulled
to save the jaw.”

Men gathered around the house set into
the hillside at Helgafeld. Ketil Treefoot stumped about on his new
wooden leg. Anyone who gave him the opportunity soon heard a
complete description of the berserk fight near Ketil’s sauna. He
gestured at his leg and mimicked Svart’s moans and Snaekulf’s
howls. He had quite the story now. Ketil didn’t speak of the
berserk’s fate; that was for Gwyneth or Colm to do and they kept
quiet. People might find the notion of a killer-woman difficult to
accept. Colm did not want to see Gwyneth the subject of gossip.
People might say she upset the order of things and blame her in
times of trouble. Colm looked about at the milling crowd and
shuddered to think of it coming after Gwyneth.

Bjorn was over with Ketil now, waving
his hands about as he described the killing of the twins. He made
certain to quote the witty dialogue he had with Thorolf about the
well-struck blow. People laughed and he recited it again. He was
very excited and jumped about like a young sheep at first grass.
Thorolf came up to Colm. “Bjorn is getting very frisky,” he
said.

Gerda thinks so, thought Colm, but he
didn’t say it aloud for Gerda was Thorolf’s daughter. Still he
smiled and Thorolf caught it. “Yes,” he said, “Gerda thinks
so.”

“She looks good these days.” Gerda was
pregnant.

“Yes. But I am a little concerned about
Bjorn. I think he is losing his balance. Some days he is moody and
other days like this.” He nodded at the man. Bjorn was gesturing
wildly and shouting as he performed. “I don’t think Gerda can calm
him.” He looked at Colm. “Perhaps he needs the words of a quiet
friend.”

“Perhaps,” Colm nodded. “I don’t know
what I can do but I will try. I can’t stop this, though.” He waved
at the crowd of excited people.

“No,” said Thorolf, “This is beyond
helping.”

Colm heard a racket and looked west to
see wagons approaching. Women from the area led by Gerda, Bjorn’s
wife! A great shouting rose from some of the wagons, but one was
quiet. Gwyneth was in it and Ingveld and Thorolf’s Marta. Colm rode
over.

“Are they inside?” asked Gwyneth.

“Yes.”