The Saga of Colm the Slave (37 page)

Colm slipped the coin back under his
shirt, feeling it hang about his neck like a noose.

“Do all those with unabsolved sins go to
Hell?”

“Perhaps.” Ljot cared little for
theology; he was more interested in seeing people live righteous
lives.

“What of those who died pagan?”

“Ah!” Ljot thought that he understood
Colm’s worry now. This was a great problem for all those whose
parents and kin-folk had not converted. “The righteous among them
will be saved. People will not be tormented because of their
ignorance of Christ. God is not unjust.”

Colm was uncertain about this. “What
about those who were Christian but were taken by raiders and never
saw this land become Christian?”

“Someone you knew?”

“A man who was a good friend to me. He
never did harm to anyone. I would not like to think he is in
eternal torment.”

“Then pray for his soul.”

“Pray?”

“Yes. God hears your prayers.”

“All right. Suppose I made a donation as
well? Besides my penance fee.”

“That, too, would be useful. I, and
other priests, will pray for the relief of this man’s soul. What
was his name?”

“Edgar. He was English, one of Bjorn’s
slaves. Can God identify him from that?”

“Of course. God knows all.”

Then why does He need my prayers to
remind Him of this soul, thought Colm. He said, “Then I would like
to start the prayers immediately. I would not have this man suffer
another day in Hell.”

Ljot smiled. “It will be so.”

39. Thurid Re-Marries

Thurid and Gwyneth often met at church
on Sunday and would drive back in their wagons to one or the other
of their houses and talk. Two summers after Frosti’s death, Thurid
said, “Mother, I am thinking of re-marrying.”

“Well, you are a grown woman, married
once already. This choice is yours alone.”

Thurid nodded. “I think I will marry
Cran.”

Gwyneth was amazed. The thought struck
her that Cran was an ex-robber and that Thurid was a wealthy widow.
She said, “He is younger than you.”

“A few years, not so much.” She looked
Gwyneth in the eye. “I suppose you think he is after my
wealth.”

“I think it possible,” admitted
Gwyneth.

“Well, as to that, I will ask Hallvard
and Ljot and Colm about a marriage contract that will keep everyone
from being concerned about such matters. Anyway, if wealth is what
he wants, well, I want a companion. I need a man in my house. He is
welcome to what I have.”

Gwyneth said, “Daughter, your decision
will not be questioned by me.”

Later, she told Colm, “Cran is like the
seed sowed on hard soil, but now he has found fertile ground.”

Thurid is that, all right, thought Colm,
and his mouth quirked a little but he did not allow himself to
actually smile enough so that Gwyneth would notice.

So Cran and Thurid were married. Cran
was not a spendthrift and he had taken to farming. After a time,
people ceased to be concerned that Thurid might be exploited.
Anyway, she began to have children by Cran and so that marriage
seemed solid enough.

Between her two husbands, Thurid had ten
children altogether that lived and she began to get stout. After
Thurid went a few years without a new pregnancy, she believed that
she was done with child-bearing. Of course, many a woman has
received a late surprise.

40. Gwyneth’s End

Thurid and Gwyneth often met at Church.
One Sunday, about fourteen years after Iceland became Christian,
they were driving back from services and Gwyneth collapsed in her
seat, the holy book still clutched in her lifeless hands. It was as
sudden as that. One moment alive, dead the next. Colm pondered this
for quite some time and thought there was a fact of great
importance here but he could not find the proper words to express
it, nor could he find much solace in religion. It is all over, he
thought, all my life is done. Gwyneth was buried with her book in
her hands.

Braga came to see him. She got right to
the point. “You need a housekeeper,” she said. “I need a
house.”

“You still have grandchildren at
Helgafeld,” said Colm.

“Not much longer. Only one is left there
now.” Braga’s daughter, Freydis, had Gunnora Twist-Face to deal
with. One mother or mother-in-law was enough for any house. Her
grand-daughter Ingveld had died of a sickness that struck down
several people at her farm. Her grandson Magnus was a successful
farmer with children of his own. Braga could have gone to live with
him or with her other married grandson or with the grand-daughter
that was soon to wed, but she decided that she would be
uncomfortable, living in a grandchild’s house. Only one of Frosti’s
children remained at Helgafeld, an eleven-year-old boy who seemed
intelligent and would soon go to Thorsness to begin training for
the priesthood.

“Well,” said Colm, “It’s true enough
that I need help. Come to the Trollfarm and keep house.”

Braga nodded. “All right. Will you want
me to share your bed?”

“No,” said Colm, “I am past all that
now.”

“Good,” said Braga. “So am I.”

41. Colm Reflects

Colm sat nodding over his chess board.
It was very warm in the stove-room and he felt drowsy, but if he
had less of a fire then his bones began to ache with cold. A
servant girl brought him a cup of broth and he drank it down. It
seemed all that he ate any more was broth and skyr. He still had
most of his teeth, too, but chewing seemed much of a bother. He
watched the girl moving about the room and thought how pretty she
was. All the young girls were so pretty! And they were so very
young! Sometimes Colm saw them flirting with the young men and
smiled to himself to watch the young people so excited to be alive.
Well, his remaining days were few and Colm was not unhappy about
that. He thought he had done all a man could do, or at least all
that the man he was could do and he was not much interested in
doing more. He was wealthy now and had land and livestock and a
hoard of silver. He reminded himself again to go see Hallvard and
work out how his property would be divided on his death. It would
be irresponsible to die without a will. People would quarrel over
his property and there would be trouble. That would be a fine
legacy!

Thurid would be alright -- she and Cran
had the Helgafeld farm -- and other properties he owned would fall
to the people who farmed them -- that had to be made clear -- but
there was still the Trollfarm that belonged to him alone. And that
was a problem. A freedman's property would revert to his former
master when he died. Bjorn was long dead, of course, but still,
Colm's farm was open to anyone who might seize it. Hallvard would
fight for it, and Cran and Styr would back him. Orm might, but he
was being courted by Snorri godi who might neutralize him if it
came to a feud. Snorri was the man who might try to take the
Trollfarm. But beforehand, he would make an ally of every man who
might oppose him. Perhaps Snorri's overtures to Orm were a signal
of his intentions. Colm had to think how to stop this fight from
happening. Perhaps he ought to just gift the Trollfarm to Snorri.
Or to the Church.

The Church would have its share in any
case, of course, enough so that prayers for Edgar’s soul would
continue. Colm had not arranged such prayers for Gwyneth or Geirrid
or himself. In fact, he had little to do with religion and had not
been confessed since Ljot had heard him. But the penance he did for
Edgar was meant to buy them all a measure of mercy from the harsh
judgement of God.

Once, Colm had seen little beyond
himself and the clothes on his back. Then his world had expanded to
include a farm and the concerns of his neighbors. He had become
important to the community and had been an advisor to chieftains.
When important decisions had been made, he had been there. Now his
world had shrunk to what it had been when he was a slave. Sometimes
he thought of those days and Gwyneth, in her youth. He called up
her face as it had been then or, at least, as he repainted it in
memory. He recalled the soft touch of her hand on his arm as she
tried to sway his decision about something, he couldn’t remember
what, but he could feel that gentle hand as though it were touching
him now.

Colm hung his face over the chessmen
that Geirrid had given him. The amber glowed in the firelight and
Colm thought he felt warmth rise from the pieces against his face.
He wondered, as he sometimes did, about Geirrid and whether he had
found the center of the world. Several Icelanders had been to
Novgorod or Miklagard and returned but none had reported seeing
him. But the world was large and there were many places a man might
go that were unknown in Iceland.

Great changes had happened in the world
in the last while. Icelanders had taken part in many of them while
Colm stayed home. Canute was king in England now but the Danes had
lost control of Norway after Olaf the Large had taken power away
from their vassals. The Irish had driven the Norse out of their
country, except for those who had married there, of course, but
they were Irish themselves now, Colm supposed. He seldom thought of
Ireland any more and had little desire to visit that island. But
then, he had no desire to travel anywhere. “I have not travelled
much,” he said aloud.

“Nor I.” Colm raised his head to see
Snorri godi sitting opposite him. “Except to Norway once,” said
Snorri, “But then I became godi and this land seemed most important
to me.”

“I am a poor host,” said Colm. “I did
not notice you come in. I must have been asleep.”

“I admit that I took a little nap
myself,” said Snorri. “It is warm here, and pleasant.”

Colm called for refreshments. Snorri
often came by to play chess and the servants knew what to bring
him.

“I also visited Norway,” said Colm,
“Though I never left the harbor. And I saw a bit of Frisia on a
raid once, but that’s not exactly what I meant by travel.”

“No,” agreed Snorri.

“So,” said Colm, “You think travelling
about the world is not so important?”

“I think this is world enough for me. It
is all that I can handle most days. Why should I seek more
problems?”

Colm nodded. He noticed the lines in
Snorri’s face and the grey in his hair. It struck him that Snorri
was only a year or two older than Geirrid. “There are important
matters to take care of here,” he said.

“Yes,” said Snorri, “What could be more
important than making a community where people can work together
and raise their families in peace and prosperity?”

“Well,” said Colm, “One important matter
to consider is that poor chess move you tried last time you were
here. I don’t recall that working out very well for you.”

Snorri smiled, “It may be our memories
differ. But I have been giving some thought to these problems and
have a few moves to try that might disturb your peace.”

So the two men bent over the board and
began a game.

HERE ENDS

THE SAGA OF COLM THE SLAVE

CHRONOLOGY

943—Colm born in Ireland

945—Gwyneth born in Wales

953—Colm taken by raiders

955—Bjorn takes his household, including
the slaves Colm and Gwyneth, to Iceland

960—Death of Hastein

961—Halldor dies and Colm freed in
summer; Aud dies; Colm and Gwyneth marry

962—Colm goes raiding

963—Berserk feud

964—Birth of Gudbrand

965—Birth of Hallvard

967—Birth of Geirrid

968—Colm pays off Bjorn, is led into
Althing

970—Thorolf paid off; Colm fosters
Gudbrand

971—Thurid rescued

975—Gudbrand dies

976—Ljot and Styr born

977—Gisli the Outlaw killed, his nephew
Snorri becomes godi

979—Bjorn dies

980—Deaths of Egil Bloodhead and his
cousin, Thorgils

982—Ingveld dies

983— Erik the Red returns to Iceland;
Geirrid goes trading

984—Orm and Marta marry

986—Geirrid returns

987—Thurid marries

995—Albert’s mission to Iceland; Asgrim
killed

998—Thangbrand’s mission

999—Iceland converts to Christianity

1000—Thorolf dies and Hallvard becomes
godi

1001—Fight with Skeggi and the
robbers

1003—Frosti dies

1005—Thurid marries Cran

1013—Gwyneth dies

1014—Norse driven out of Ireland for
good

1015—Olaf the Large, later canonized as
St.Olaf, becomes King of Norway

1016—Canute King of England

AFTERWORD

This work is fiction though certain
historic events are mentioned within the narrative. I have tried to
stay close to the evidence of archaeology and the written legacy of
the Sagas. A few items are invented – the bloody thumbprint at
Sacrifice, for instance, though I think this does not violate the
spirit of what we are told happened at these events.

No attempt has been made to spell Norse
words properly. The word
godi
has a "dh" symbol instead of a
"d", for instance, but I do not trust e-readers to not garble the
symbols.

Settlers began coming to Iceland around
874. They came from Norway and from Norse holdings in the British
Isles, especially the Hebrides, and they brought their British and
Irish slaves with them. These first settlers took land as they saw
fit wherever they wished. By 930 most of the land was spoken for
and Iceland was closed to new land-taking.

The new country was governed by people
who were related to one another through blood or marriage. This
worked well for the first generation of settlers, but their
children began to quarrel with one another and people sought a new
organizing principle. So the frontier society introduced a code of
law and the Althing. The chieftains or godis held power not through
control of a bounded division of land but through the allegiance of
free men who accepted their rule. A man could shift his allegiance
from one godi to another if he desired, thus the godord was a fluid
concept rather than a geographic fact. In 960, when Colm’s saga
begins, the Icelandic system was new and subject to tinkering and
adjustment until the end of the century. The conversion of Iceland
was the last major change in the country’s governance for more than
two hundred years until the system collapsed and Iceland became a
possession of the Norwegian crown.