The Saga of Colm the Slave (5 page)

The next morning, Colm attended the
fringes of the great crowd assembled around one of Ingolf’s heirs,
who called on the Gods and convened the assembly. Then the
Lawspeaker, Thorarin Ragi’s-Brother, mounted the Law-rock and
proclaimed the boundaries of the Althing. No weapons could be shown
within these boundaries and all men, even outlaws, were said to be
safe here, though no outlaw had ever tested this notion.

When Iceland was first settled, the
major families and chieftains were all related by blood or marriage
and people got along well. But the generation that followed began
quarreling and some chieftains began to seek power over all. So a
code of law was brought from Norway and the Althing was created to
settle difficulties between people. Iceland had no king but only
law. The system was often tested. There were feuds and outlaws but
for the last twenty-five years the country had been more or less
stable.

There were three things to be
accomplished at Althing: the Lawspeaker would recite a third of the
law – he served for three years, so all the law would be heard
during his term; the Logretta, or Law Council, would sit and
determine new laws and revise the old – Thorolf sat on the
Logretta, Bjorn would sit with him, but not Magnus this year, since
Magnus was bringing an action; and lawsuits would be heard,
including that of Magnus demanding the outlawry of Gunnlaug.

Magnus had delivered due notice of his
suit but had been unable to find Gunnlaug to summon him. This would
be a point of law for Gunnlaug’s supporters to argue. Still, all
free men were required to attend Althing. If Gunnlaug did not
appear to answer the charges against him, most would say he was
guilty. There was little doubt Gunnlaug had killed Halldor, but the
circumstances might be such that Gunnlaug could pay a fine and
escape outlawry. Of course, no fine would be enough to satisfy
Magnus and Gunnlaug’s life would soon be forfeit unless he could
gather enough fighting men to triumph in the feud. So, perhaps it
was just as well Gunnlaug did not appear. On the other hand,
Gunnlaug had not witnessed the killing by reporting it to the first
man he saw afterward which meant this was Secret Murder, a crime
guaranteeing outlawry. No one could aid or shelter an outlaw. Any
man could kill an outlaw without penalty. Outlaws survived only so
long as they could avoid other people, unless they could find a way
off this island and flee abroad. Colm doubted Gunnlaug had the
resources for that. He thought the man was doomed. Gunnlaug’s only
course now was to seek as much honor as he might find before he was
killed, and to face his inevitable death with courage so that men
might speak of him with approval in the years to come.

Bjorn called Colm over. “I want you to
go with Magnus while I’m at the Logretta.” He turned to Magnus.
“This is a reliable man. If you need to contact me, send a message
with Colm.” Magnus nodded, hardly looking at Colm. His eyes darted
from side to side and his mouth was working. Bjorn observed him for
a few seconds, then whispered to Colm, “If he loses his temper or
does something rash, come get me right away.” Colm nodded.

“All right,” snapped Magnus, “This way!”
And he strode off. Colm jogged to catch up, staying a few steps
behind. Some of Magnus’ men joined them, along with a few farmers.
Magnus pointed at one of them, Egil Bloodhead. “We’ll go see your
cousin Thorgils now.”

Egil shook his head. “Now’s not the best
time. Thorgils has just been summoned. He’s got his own lawsuit
coming up and he’s unhappy about it. Wait till tomorrow and I’ll
talk to him about how we can help one another here.”

“I want his help now!” Magnus
exploded.

“He doesn’t know you or your family. Let
me speak to him…”

“He knows that bastard Gunnlaug murdered
my son! That’s enough for him to know! If he won’t help with this
lawsuit, then I may put a sword through him, too!”

Egil was called Bloodhead because he had
a great red birthmark across his forehead and one side of his face.
Now that mark glowed like fire. “In that case,” said Egil, stepping
back, “I may have to defend my cousin.”

Enough of this, thought Colm, and he ran
to the place where the Logretta was sitting. There were three rings
of seats. The council-members sat in the middle ring. Each had an
advisor sitting above and another below him. Bjorn sat above
Thorolf, another farmer sat below. Colm signalled to Bjorn who
nodded and leaned forward to whisper in Thorolf’s ear. Both men
leapt up from their seats and came over.

“He’s quarrelling with Egil Bloodhead
about visiting Egil’s cousin,” said Colm.

Thorolf sighed. “Not till tomorrow. Then
we can exchange gifts and a promise to help one another.”

“We’d better get over there,” said
Bjorn.

Egil and Magnus were head-to-head, eyes
locked, snarling at one another, their hands twitching at the place
where a sword-hilt should be. Bjorn and Thorolf stepped between
them.

Bjorn told Egil, “Don’t let a hot head
rob Thorgils of the help he may want.” Egil calmed a little and
Bjorn continued to soothe him. “Tomorrow, Thorolf will see your
cousin and they will help one another.”

Thorolf told Magnus, “Best keep your
anger for your enemies. Egil and his cousin will be of great value
to your cause.”

Magnus took several breaths. “I am no
good at this politicking,” he said. “My son’s blood shouts to me of
vengeance. I can hear nothing else.”

Thorolf turned to Egil. “Sometimes anger
speaks words we would not otherwise find in our mouths.” Egil
nodded. “I have a gift for you, Egil, as a gesture of my
friendship.” He gave Egil a silver ring looted from England, set
with an excellent green stone. One of the enamel inlays was
missing, but it was a fine present anyway.

Thorolf turned to Magnus and raised an
eyebrow. Magnus took the hint. “Forgive me, Egil, if I spoke
harshly. It was the thought of not having two great fighters like
you and your cousin on my side that upset me.” And Magnus, too,
gave Egil a gift. Egil accepted both the flattery and the gift.

Thorolf said, “Magnus, friend, hard as
it may be, I suggest you go back to your stall and wait.” Magnus
nodded. He seemed deflated with his anger gone, like a sail with no
wind.

The crowd broke up. Magnus headed back
to his place. Bjorn said, “That was an expensive gift.”

Thorolf shrugged. “Magnus can afford
it.” Magnus would reward Thorolf for his help. Not only would he
give Thorolf his fealty in time of trouble but also he would pay
Thorolf well for his aid in this suit. Thorolf said, “I wonder if
it’s worth it, to be linked to a hot-head like that.” He shook his
head. “Anyway, back to the Logretta.” The issue before the Logretta
was the division of Iceland into quarters for judicial purposes.
Thorolf walked off.

Bjorn gestured to Colm. “Hang around
Magnus’ place. If there’s trouble, come get us.”

Colm settled on his haunches outside
Magnus’ booth, watching, but Magnus stayed in his place the rest of
the day.

Magnus gave no more trouble and, over
the next few days, Thorolf was able to persuade many men that
Gunnlaug should be outlawed. Colm noticed that most of them seemed
to think that no fighting would come from this matter, so they were
pleased to accept Magnus’ gifts, knowing it would cost them little
in return.

On the appointed day, Magnus brought his
suit before the Thing. He named twelve witnesses, men who had
received his gifts, who each swore that Gunnlaug had murdered
Halldor. Gunnlaug’s cousin Grim tried to defend his kinsman but
with Gunnlaug’s failure to appear, the case was never in doubt.
Gunnlaug was outlawed. No one was to aid or shelter him. He could
be killed on sight and it was understood that Magnus would probably
reward his killer.

Althing ended without further incident.
Men took up their weapons and shook them to indicate the time of
lawful peace was at an end. Magnus began assembling a group to
actively hunt Gunnlaug, find him, and kill him. Bjorn did not join
them. Nor did Thorolf, though he accepted great gifts and a
quantity of money from Magnus. Colm was pleased to be going back to
the farmstead.

When Colm reached the meadow, he knew at
once something was wrong. Old Edgar had a terrible expression on
his face – fear, guilt, shame: all showed at once. Edgar opened his
mouth but no sound emerged, then he began stuttering. Colm waited
patiently for the old man to gain control of his voice. “…your
lamb…” Colm registered the words and snapped his eyes up to the
flock. He saw one of his lambs immediately but could not spot the
other. Wordlessly, Edgar gestured to his cloak lying near a large
stone. Colm pulled back the cloak and beheld his lamb, dead. Colm
picked up the small corpse and saw a clotted hole on one side of
the lamb and similar damage on its other side. He saw right away
that his lamb had been killed by an arrow.

“When?” he asked, cradling the lamb in
his arms.

“Early yesterday.” Edgar was wringing
his hands in despair; he knew what these lambs meant to Colm.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No…no…” Edgar lost his speech again. He
stood with head bowed, waiting for blows or curses, the slave’s
lot.

Colm reflected that the old man had
covered the lamb with his own cloak to keep the birds away. He
wondered if Edgar had slept without a cover the night before,
giving it to the dead lamb instead. He made his voice quiet and
steady. “It’s not your fault, Edgar.” The old man straightened up a
bit. “Did you find the arrow?”

“No.” Edgar had recovered his voice. “I
thought it went on through and over the cliffs.”

Colm nodded. There was no use looking.
Anyway, it wasn’t likely that the arrow would bear any
distinguishing marks. “Who would kill a lamb and leave it?”

“Maybe it was a troll,” said Edgar. Colm
looked at him. The old man had something to say. Colm waited. “I
saw some smoke from the Trollfarm the day before. A little
smoke.”

Colm nodded. Edgar knew perfectly well
that trolls needed no fires. Still holding the lamb, Colm squatted
on his haunches and thought. Edgar stood silent and waited.
Finally, Colm reached a decision. He stood up and handed the lamb
to Edgar. “Take this to Bjorn. Tell him it is a gift for his pantry
and that I am gone to the Trollfarm to find the giver.”

Once this had been a good farm, thought
Colm, but now the home field was a tangle of unreaped hay, patches
of dead grass from last year spotting the green of this year’s
crop. The fence that surrounded the field had fallen apart in one
or two places where frost had heaved the earth or split some
stones, but it was basically sound. The turf walls of the house
stood strong but the roof had collapsed at one end. The place was
dead and beginning to decay. Colm listened carefully but heard
nothing, not even a bird song or an insect buzz. This was a fearful
place now, without men and women and animals to liven it. He
shivered in the strong noon sun. Gathering his courage, Colm ducked
into the front passage and entered the house.

Blinking in the darkness, Colm heard the
rustling in the corner before he saw anything. He leapt away from
the sound, crouching.

“Ha!” Gunnlaug stepped into the shaft of
light from the broken roof. He carried a naked sword. “I know you,”
he said, peering closer. “You’re the slave that saw me at Thorolf’s
place. You did well not to raise any fuss then.” He slid his sword
back into its scabbard and came closer. “Have you anything to
eat?”

Colm shook his head. His eyes adjusted
to the gloom and he saw Gunnlaug’s belongings piled on what
remained of the benches. A bow and a quiver of arrows lay on top.
“Did you kill a lamb up in the meadow?”

“Yes, but I heard someone coming and
hid. If I had known it was just that old slave… Anyway, he got it
and I have no food.”

“That was my lamb.”

“Yes? Do you have another? Listen, go
get me one. Or a sheep, even. I could eat a whole cow, I think.
Come on, slave! Go get me some food!”

Colm bowed his head and moved forward.
When he was next to Gunnlaug he pulled the scramasax from under his
shirt and thrust it into the man’s belly. The long knife entered
below Gunnlaug’s ribs and Colm pushed the blade up, seeking his
heart, lifting, for an instant, the man’s body from the floor. Then
Gunnlaug dropped and his weight pulled Colm’s blade down as his
body slid onto the dirt. His shirt darkened with blood. “You
shouldn’t have killed my lamb,” whispered Colm. But Gunnlaug’s eyes
glazed over and there was no reply. Colm squatted beside the corpse
and waited. A fly buzzed onto Gunnlaug’s face. Soon there was
another.

“Well,” said Bjorn, “Magnus will be
pleased.”

“Or perhaps disappointed that he didn’t
stick the blade in himself,” said Thorolf.

The two men stared down at Gunnlaug’s
body. Colm stood nearby, waiting. Bjorn said, “Perhaps you should
run your sword into the wound and take credit for this
killing.”

Thorolf shook his head. “No. The truth
comes out and then I would look a fool without honor.” He glanced
at Colm. “Though there might be some talk about a slave having done
this deed.”

“A slave! Do you think I would let a
slave go armed?” said Bjorn. “Colm’s a free man! Of course he owes
me,” he added hastily, looking Colm’s way, “Um, seven years labor.
Not all his labor, mind you. He has still one lamb to look after.”
He peered at Colm through narrowed eyes. Colm was dumbfounded. He
managed to nod.

“Well,” Thorolf’s eyebrows raised, “And
here I thought he was a slave. Perhaps you told me at Althing and I
forgot.”

“I should have announced it there,” said
Bjorn, “But so much was going on.”

“Yes. Well, he is a very capable man, I
think. You know, he could prove to be a farmer of quality. Suppose…
Now consider this: Suppose he spent your seven years working this
abandoned farm here and, beginning the harvest after this next one,
gave you a tenth part of his crop and increase in herds.”