The Saga of Colm the Slave (18 page)

Ketil had no answer for that. He turned
on his peg leg and stumped away without a word.

Back at his farm, Ketil sat and stewed.
His wife, Ingunn, spoke to him. “I believe you need some help with
this.”

“I know who has the cows, I just don’t
know where he is.”

“Well then,” said Ingunn, “Perhaps you
need to consult someone who can find things.” Then she went back to
her spinning, for an intelligent wife knows how to plant the seed
and allow it to take root.

Ketil mumbled to himself for a while but
Ingunn’s words kept recurring to him. Finally, he got up and yelled
to a slave to make a horse ready. “I need some cloth,” he told
Ingunn. She went to her store and took three cloaks from the pile.
“Do I need so much?” said Ketil. He was calculating just how much
silver this cloth might bring.

Ingunn shrugged. “Better to overpay and
get the best answer.” Ketil agreed and bundled the cloth into a
roll. He threw it onto his horse and rode off to Spa-Gils’
house.

Spa-Gils was a well-known seer. He was
lean and pale with a long, flat nose and narrow eyes. Most people
thought he had some Sami ancestry. No one said this to him though,
for it was insulting to be called a Lapp. On the other hand, no one
really thought the worse of him. Being part Sami meant that
Spa-Gils was a good seer, since the Sami were very gifted at this
practice. It also meant that Spa-Gils was excused his
peculiarities. He had never married, for example, and lived alone.
His farm was not very prosperous and people said that was because
the Sami did not understand sheep.

Ketil rode into Spa-Gils’ yard and
shouted. Tools and pieces of equipment lay scattered about.
Chickens pecked here and there. A dog ran from behind the house and
began barking. Ketil sat patiently. After a time, Spa-Gils emerged
from inside and slowly, wordlessly, spread his open hands in
something like a show of welcome. The dog stopped barking
immediately.

Ketil clutched the roll of cloth and
rotated his wooden leg over the horse’s head, then slid off to land
on his good foot. He got right to the point. “I need your services.
I’ve brought you a gift.” He handed over the cloth. This would have
seemed abrupt and discourteous to most people but Spa-Gils just
nodded and beckoned Ketil into his house. He took the roll of cloth
and threw it onto a bench without examining it. He sat on the bench
and put his hands on his knees and waited for Ketil to speak. He
did not offer food or drink.

“I need your help with a problem,” said
Ketil. Spa-Gils said nothing, just stared into Ketil’s eyes. Ketil
became uncomfortable; for a moment he feared that Spa-Gils might be
trying to charm him in some way. He looked down at the floor. “Two
of my cattle are missing and so is the hand that was supposed to be
watching them. His name is Brand and I suspect he is the thief who
has made off with my livestock. Anyway, find my cattle for me!” He
raised his eyes and met Spa-Gils’ direct gaze. “Please,” he
added.

Spa-Gils sat silently, then nodded. “I
will look for your cows.” He went to the far end of the bench and
lay down, pulling a long cloak over his entire body. Ketil sat and
waited. He thought that, under the cloak, Spa-Gils had sent his
soul flying over the island, looking this way and that, seeking the
lost cattle. Ketil wondered what lay on the bench now – Spa-Gils’
body, shrivelled into a dry husk? Or perhaps nothing at all, just a
place where a man had once lain? But he knew better than to touch
the cloak or bother the man in any way. He caught a hint of motion
behind him and looked out through the door to see Spa-Gils’ dog
sitting patiently. A mouse scampered across the yard but the dog
did not chase it. Ketil wondered if the mouse was Spa-Gils’ fetch
and the dog recognized his master. He shivered and thought about
moving outside into the sun but he was fearful of disturbing
Spa-Gils’ dog – or any other creature for that matter.

Spa-Gils lay under his cloak for several
hours. Ketil waited motionless the entire time. Finally the cloak
stirred and Spa-Gils emerged. He rubbed his face and raised a hand
to silence Ketil. He gathered himself and moved down the bench to
sit before Ketil. His face hung with weariness and his voice
cracked. “I have seen your cattle. Listen carefully and heed every
word.” Ketil nodded. Spa-Gils glanced at him, then began to speak.
“Your cattle have not gone very far. Don’t think of Brand; he is
past blame. Remember the value of a good neighbor.” Spa-Gils waited
then repeated everything he had said, word for word as he had
spoken before. “Do you want me to repeat it again?” he asked.

“No,” said Ketil, “I have it all
now.”

“Every word is important.”

Ketil nodded. “I understand.” He rose
and thanked Spa-Gils and mounted his horse. His brain whirled. The
cattle weren’t far. Brand hadn’t taken them. A good neighbor is
valuable. Ah, what then of a bad neighbor? And if the cattle were
nearby then that meant Gunnar must have them! All the way home,
Ketil thought and planned his next move.

“So what did he say?” asked Ingunn.

“He said that Gunnar has taken
them!”

“Really? Did he say where they
were?”

“Nearby. My cows are still nearby!”
Ketil was seething. He rummaged through a chest and pulled out his
sword. “But I’ll get them back!”

“No use going off half-armored,” said
Ingunn. “Go speak to Thorolf and get his aid.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“No, of course not. But you will later,
when this becomes a matter of law. Suppose you go kill Gunnar now.
Someone will demand wergild later. Then you will need Thorolf. Best
to bring him on side now.” This was a long speech for Ingunn. She
dropped her eyes to her work and closed her mouth though she felt
like shouting.

Ketil clutched his sword and stood stock
still, breathing hard. He hadn’t reckoned the cost of wergild into
his scheme. Killing Gunnar might cost him more than two cows. “I’ll
go see Thorolf first,” he said. “A man shouldn’t act without
informing his godi.”

“That is wisdom,” said Ingunn. “You are
a wise man to think of that.”

Ketil rode to Thorolf’s farm and told
him what had happened. “What were Spa-Gils’ exact words?” asked
Thorolf. Hallvard stood behind him, taking it all in.

“Just that. He said my cows were close
by and that Brand didn’t take them. Oh, and he warned me about bad
neighbors.”

“Hmm. Do you think Gunnar is a bad
neighbor?”

“He took my cows, didn’t he?”

“Well,” said Thorolf, “Let us look ahead
to the lawsuit that may follow any action that you take. After all,
best to know what rocks lie under water before diving in.”

“True enough.”

“The best thing would be to summons
Gunnar for theft.” Thorolf held up his hand. “I know it’s not as
satisfactory as slicing off his head but you may get to do that
later anyway.” He waited for Ketil to nod. “But it’s hard to
summons a man on what we know now. Let me find out more about where
the cattle might be...”

“He has them! I know it!”

“Then we will find them and that will be
all we need to summons him for theft.” Thorolf laid his hand on
Ketil’s shoulder. “Let me look into this. I give you my word that
you will have justice.”

By now Ketil had cooled down and he was
tired from all the riding around he had done that day, so he agreed
and went back to his farm.

Thorolf considered the situation for a
time. He sent a man to see Spa-Gils and discover exactly what the
seer said. And he decided to visit Colm the next morning.

“You are a sensible, level-headed man,”
said Thorolf, “And you understand priorities. It is important that
peace is preserved in the community, no neighbor against neighbor
here. It is better a criminal escape then have fighting and
bloodshed.”

“Yes,” said Colm. He wondered if Thorolf
were hinting about Geirrid and Gudbrand. Thorolf was an intelligent
man; he might have pieced out the truth of that matter. “Of course,
that’s assuming that the criminal has learned a lesson and won’t
re-offend. We can’t have people committing crimes all the time.” He
looked closely at Colm.

“No,” said Colm, “We can’t.” Sometimes
Colm went for days without thinking of Edgar, then the man’s face
would suddenly appear before his mind’s eye. At least he didn’t
dream of him so much any more.

Thorolf said, “So I want you to go up to
the summer pasture there and find out what you can.”

“All right,” said Colm, “I’ll see what I
can do.”

Colm should have been flattered that
Thorolf asked for his assistance but he was worried instead. He was
a man of standing in the community – but he was still a freed man
and would bear the stain of slavery for all his life. Nothing could
wipe it out; only Geirrid might escape it, if Colm did well enough.
So every testing of Colm affected Geirrid’s future.

After Thorolf left, Colm took his time
saddling a horse and packing some provisions. He was thinking all
the while. “Are you going somewhere?” asked Gwyneth.

“Up to the cattle shieling that Ketil
and Gunnar share. I’ll probably be back by dark. Thorolf wants me
to stop a feud.”

“Oh, well, that certainly won’t take
more than an hour or two. I’ll see you at supper.”

Colm grinned. “All right, laugh. I don’t
know what I can do but Thorolf has asked me and so I must try.
Anyway, I’ll go up and have a look.”

“Thorolf is a lucky man to have you
around. You are good at working out these problems.” She glanced
away, then back. “I mean that.”

Colm nodded. He noticed Gagarr in the
yard and an idea came to him. “I’ll take the dog.”

“Gagarr? Go ahead. I’ll tell the
chickens to watch the place. They’ll be about as much use.”

So Colm slung Gagarr across the saddle
and rode off. Gagarr was startled at being put on a horse but soon
was grinning with excitement. When they were far enough from the
Trollfarm that Colm thought Gagarr wouldn’t run back, he put the
dog down to run alongside. Colm reached the cattle byre about
midday.

The two women, Arnfrith and Berta, were
in the shed. “What can you tell me about the day the cattle
disappeared?” asked Colm.

Arnfrith shrugged. “It was like any
other day. We milked. The cows went up to pasture. We worked
here.”

Berta’s mouth twisted. “Yes, some of us
worked...”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Berta, “That I was here
in the shed all the afternoon, working.”

“And you were alone?”

Berta shrugged. Colm turned to ask
Arnfrith where she had been but the girl’s face suddenly widened
with distress and she ran out of the shed, clutching her belly.
Outside, she puked on the grass. Colm thought he knew what that
meant. “How long has this been going on?” he asked Berta.

“About a week or two.”

“So that would make her, what, about two
months pregnant? A little more? Less?”

Berta shrugged. “Why ask me?”

“And you’ve been up here almost three
months.” Berta nodded. “So,” Colm went on, “Skeggi and Arnfrith, is
it? Or Arnfrith and Brand? Or both?”

“Just Skeggi so far as I know,” said
Berta, “But who can tell with girls these days? She could have been
polishing every cock from here to the Hebrides!”

Colm walked outside. “How long have you
been pregnant?” Arnfrith shrugged but didn’t speak. “Is it Skeggi?”
Arnfrith nodded. “So that’s where he was the day the cattle
disappeared, right? The two of you were off together.” Arnfrith
shrugged again, then burst into tears. Colm tried a few more
questions but could get nothing out of the girl.

Colm walked his horse up the path that
the cattle took to go to pasture. He looked down the cliffs and
crevasses along the way, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The
path was bounded by a rockface on one side and a drop off on the
other. The rockface decreased in height as the path climbed. Colm
rounded a huge boulder and was above the face. A small meadow
sloped away on one side, a cliff dropped off on Colm’s right.
Ahead, Colm saw a new rockface thrusting from the meadow, above the
path. Gagarr raised his nose into the wind and began growling. Colm
looked about, but could see nothing. “Come on,” he said to the dog,
and went on up the path. Above the second rockface, a vast pasture
opened out. Cattle could be seen grazing here and there. This was
rich grass and fairly flat land except, of course, for the drop off
on the other side of the path. Colm looked about and located
Skeggi, sitting on a boulder above the meadow.

They made their greetings, then Colm
said, “Well, Skeggi, what can you tell me about the day the cattle
disappeared?” Skeggi looked away, then started on some story about
an errand. Colm cut him off. “You were lying with Arnfrith, right?
Somewhere back down the path. In that little sloping meadow? Or
closer to the shed?”

Skeggi gave up trying to lie. “Near the
shed.” He was thin and some ribs showed through a hole in his
shirt. Pimples peeked through the froth of fresh beard that curled
from his cheeks.

“So you weren’t with the herd at
all?”

“Brand didn’t mind. He could look after
the cattle himself without much trouble. So I met with Arnfrith and
left Brand to this work.”

“So you didn’t see what happened to the
cattle?”

“I came up the path about the time the
cattle were going back to the byre. Mikla-Tit wasn’t leading them,
which was strange. I let them all go by and counted. Mikla-tit and
another cow were missing.”

Colm knew that Skeggi was lying about
counting the cattle – Berta had done that – but he let it go. “And
Brand?”

“He wasn’t with the cows, either.”

Colm led his horse back down the path.
So perhaps Brand had run off with the cattle, no matter what
Spa-Gils said. But that hardly made sense. A man of Brand’s age was
unlikely to think that stealing two cows was worth the penalty.
Better he stayed with the master that had provided him food and
shelter for years. So where were the cattle? Colm looked around.
And where was Gagarr? The dog had wandered off somewhere. Colm
turned his face toward the cliffs. Oh, no! He shouted, “Gagarr!”
And heard a bark in the distance.