The Norsemen in the West. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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to get the name of a tale-bearer.”
“I did not think it was tale-bearing,” replied the lad, somewhat abashed, “for it is no secret. Leif was there, and Astrid herself, and all the house-carls in the hall must have heard her, for she spoke very loud. And oh! you should have seen her give Thorward the cold shoulder when he came in!”
“Well, well, Olaf, hold your noisy tongue,” said Gudrid, laughing, “and come, tell me how would you like to go to Vinland?”
“Like to go to Vinland!” echoed the boy, turning an ardent gaze full on Karlsefin, “are you going there, sir? Will you take me?”
Karlsefin laughed, and said, “You are too quick in jumping to conclusions, child. Perhaps I may go there; but you have not yet answered Gudrid’s question—would you like to go?”
“I would like it well,” replied Olaf, with a bright look of hopeful expectation that said far more than words could have expressed.
Just then Thorward was seen approaching along the beach. His brows were knit, his lips pursed, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He was so engrossed with his thoughts that he did not perceive his friends.
“Here he comes,” said Karlsefin—“in the blues evidently, for he does not see us.”
“We had better leave you to his company,” said Gudrid, laughing; “a man i’ the blues is no pleasure to a woman.—Come, Olaf, you and I shall to the dairy and see how the cattle fare.”
Olaf’s capacity for imbibing milk and cream being unlimited, he gladly accepted this invitation, and followed his aunt, while Karlsefin advanced to meet his friend.
“How now, Thorward, methinks an evil spirit doth possess thee!”
“An evil spirit!” echoed Thorward, with a wrathful look; “nay, a legion of evil spirits possess me! A plague on that fellow Biarne: he has poisoned the ears of Freydissa with lies about that girl Astrid, to whom I have never whispered a sweet word since we landed.”
“I trust you have not whispered sour words to her,” said Karlsefin, smiling.
“And Freydissa, forsooth, gives me the cold shoulder,” continued the exasperated Norseman, not noticing the interruption, “as if I were proved guilty by the mere assertion.”
“It is my advice to you, Thorward, that you return the compliment, and give the cold shoulder to Freydissa. The woman has a shrewish temper; she is a very vixen, and will lead you the life of a dog if you marry her.”
“I had rather,” said Thorward between his teeth, and stamping, “live a dog’s life with Freydissa than live the life of a king without her!”
Karlsefin laughed at this, and Thorward, taking offence, said fierily, and with some scorn—“Thinkest thou that because thy Gudrid is so smooth-tongued she is an angel?”
“That is what I am inclined to think,” answered Karlsefin, with a smile that still further exasperated his friend.
“Perchance you may find yourself mistaken,” said Thorward. “Since you are so free with your warnings, let me remind you that although the course of your courtship runs smooth, there is an old proverb—descended from Odin himself, I believe—which assures us that true love never did so run.”
“Then I recall my words, Thorward, and congratulate you on your true love—for assuredly your courtship runs in an uncommonly rugged course.”
At this Thorward turned on his heel and walked away in a towering passion.
It so happened that, on drawing near to Brattalid, he met Biarne coming in the opposite direction. Nothing could have pleased him better—for in the state of his mind at the time he would have turned savagely on himself, had that been possible, in order to relieve his feelings.
“So!” he cried, confronting Biarne, “well met! Tell me, Biarne, didst thou poison the ears of Freydissa by telling her that I had been courting thy cousin Astrid?”
Biarne, who was not aware of the consequences of what he had said in jest, felt inclined to laugh, but he checked himself and flushed somewhat, not being accustomed to be addressed in such haughty tones. Instead of explaining the matter, as he might otherwise have done, he merely said, “I did.”
“Liar!” exclaimed Thorward fiercely, for he was a very resolute man when roused; “go, tell her that the assertion was a falsehood. Go now, and come back to tell me thou hast done it, else will I chop thy carcase into mince-meat. Go; I will await thee here.”
He laid his hand upon his sword, but Biarne said quietly, “I go, sir;” and, turning round, hastened up to the hamlet.
Thorward could scarcely believe his eyes, for Biarne was fully as stout as himself, and somewhat taller, besides having the look of a courageous man. He had issued his imperative mandate more as a defiance and challenge than anything else, so that he gazed after the retreating Biarne with mingled feelings of surprise, contempt, and pity; but surprise predominated. He had not long to wait, however, for in about ten minutes Biarne returned.
“Well, have you told her?”
“I have,” replied Biarne.
“Hah!” exclaimed Thorward, very much perplexed, and not knowing what to say next.
“But, Thorward,” said Biarne, after a momentary pause, “methinks that you and I must fight now.”
“With all my heart,” answered Thorward, much relieved, and again grasping his sword.
“Nay, not with such weapons,” said Biarne, stepping up to him, “but with the weapons of friendship.”
With that he bestowed such a hearty buffet on Thorward’s left ear that it turned the irascible man head over heels, and laid him at full length on the sand.
Thorward rose slowly, being somewhat stunned, with a confused impression that there was something wrong with his head. Before he had quite recovered, Biarne burst into a laugh and seized him by the hand.
“Freydissa bids me tell you—” he said, and paused.
The pause was intentional. He saw that Thorward was on the point of snatching away his hand and returning the blow or drawing his sword; but he restrained himself in order to hear Freydissa’s message.
“She bids me tell you,” repeated Biarne, “that you are a goose.”
This was not calculated to soothe an angry man, but Thorward reflected that the epithet was figurative, and bore a peculiar signification when uttered by a woman; he therefore continued his self-restraint and waited for more.
“She also said,” added Biarne, “that she never for a moment believed my statement (which, by the way, was only made in jest), and that she thinks you deserve a good buffet on the ear for taking the thing up so hotly. Agreeing with her entirely in this, I have fulfilled her wish and given you your deserts. Moreover, she expects you to accompany her to Heriulfness to-night. So now,” said Biarne, releasing Thorward’s hand and touching his sword-hilt, “if you are still inclined—.”
“Well, well,” said Thorward, whose visage, while his friend was speaking, had undergone a series of contortions indicative of a wild conflict of feelings in his breast, “well, well, I am a goose, and deserved the buffet. After all, I did call you a liar, so we are quits, Biarne—tit for tat. Come, let us shake hands and go up to Leif’s cottage. You said Freydissa was there, I think.”
During that winter Karlsefin married Gudrid and Thorward Freydissa, and, in the following spring, they embarked in Karlsefin’s ship—with a large party of men, women, children, and cattle—and set sail for Vinland.
Chapter Five.
Freydissa Shows Her Temper and a Whale Checks it—Poetical and Other Touches
The expedition which now set out for Vinland was on a much larger scale than any of the expeditions which had preceded it. Biarne and Leif had acted the part of discoverers only—not colonisers—and although previous parties had passed several winters in